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Also Malfoy! Finally Yayyy.
Part One: Great Expectations
Chapter Twenty-Three: Trigger Happy
Deputy Director Maria Hill is waiting for them in what Tony can only call SHIELD's equivalent of a conference room, in that it looks the same as your usual boardroom- with its overly large table and an abundance of mildly uncomfortable chairs- but made up for the initial conventionality of the room by making it twice the size with half the furniture to fill it, and stuffing it with a crap load of screens; most of which have been inserted in the table itself. Tony wouldn't be surprised if there were a holographic projector or three in there somewhere too.
Which he bets will be all kinds of fun to replace with taxpayers dollars when one of their magic users inevitably blew a fuse and burnt out every piece of technology in the room. And then some. Even with Queenie and Greenbean's apparent good moods, Tony has the unmistakable feeling that today is going to go off, and not in the good way. If he were a betting man, he'd put his money down on Potter. Queenie may have a short fuse, but what he'd witnessed of her magic so far was restrained and controlled. Harry (who did have another wand, it turned out, but he's so far refused to use it, on what he claimed was principle but what Tony suspected was fear, which seemed irrational given the reaction he'd had to the last wand) on the other hand, held his magic to him like a cloak, and more than a few times, when they were all emotionally strung out like strings on a guitar, Tony could feel the fizzle in the air and the taste of ozone on his lips.
Hermione smiles fondly at the Agent when they enter- they'd been friendly during her time on the helicarrier, "Commander Hill! It's a pleasure to see you again."
Hill offers her a smirk, "It's good to see you too Ms Granger."
Tony kind of respects Hermione for not doing the stereotypical thing and insist on being called by her first name. The woman had style.
"Pity it's not under better circumstances-" you never meet with SHIELD under better circumstances, "- But I thank-you for retrieving Malfoy." He doesn't miss the slight hesitation between the 'retrieving' and 'Malfoy'.
"Malfoy was a potential threat were he to be left alone." Which was probably SHIELD's way of saying 'don't mention it'.
"What will happen to him?" Harry asks as Hermione moves around the table to sit down. The screen activates when she taps her fingers on the glass impatiently and she withdraws her hand sheepishly.
Hill's arm ever so slightly stutters in its gesturing movement for them to take their seats, "Malfoy's Welcome Wagon encountered some… resistance when asked to accompany them. He was sedated for the safety of himself and the team."
Hermione and Harry just roll their eyes, and the Agent seems to relax ever so slightly at the lack of response.
"His wand was removed from his person as soon as he went under. We've kept him in a secure cell since. I'd prefer to keep him here until we can determine if he's a threat or not. It's a…" she pauses, searching for the right words, "delicate matter; according to your accounts he saved you, but our agents on the ground felt that he displayed a certain level of hostility. SHIELD would prefer to hold a positive relationship with you and yours, but we don't think it would be advantageous to allow him to be allowed out into the public at this moment in time. And certainly not whilst armed."
Hermione leans back coolly, "I understand your reluctance, Commander Hill. But please, don't take his wariness personally; Draco Malfoy is an abrasive man at the best of times. High stress situations like ours were bound to be met with distrust. I don't believe Malfoy would have acted outside of reason, but it was likely fortunate your agents defused the situation before it could get out of hand. I trust we can negotiate some freedoms for him whilst you assess his character." Her brown eyes are hooded, but sharp as razors and Tony can see why Harry often deferred to the woman's judgement. It was more than clear that she didn't like the man, but here she was talking the talk like a seasoned defense attorney, for a man she disliked enough to go on a destruction spree on her bedroom for.
Hill seems unfazed by the business-like tone the witch's voice has gained. If anything, she is pleased, "That should be possible. We won't return his wand to him, however. For obvious reasons."
Hermione gives her a sharp nod, "I understand. But Malfoy should be given the freedom to walk about this facility; keeping him locked away like a common prisoner when he has done no wrong to you does nothing but harm for our… alliance." Hermione almost grimaces at the word; he can see it in the way her lips press together. She doesn't like the term, for some reason.
Hill stays silent for a long moment, thinking on it, "I can assign him some guards, to accompany him at all times. But there are places no one has free reign to visit. And we aren't babysitters. If they are needed elsewhere, he will be detained until they return."
Hermione shrugs, "That's acceptable. I'd like him to be assigned to Harry and I, when you're confident you can let him leave this facility. We're the best equipped at handling people with our kind of abilities. And you will not hold onto his wand indefinitely. Nor will you study it without our written permission."
"I'll have to refer to the Director on those requests."
"Very well."
Agent Hill smiles, "He asked to see the two of you."
"Did he?" And suddenly, Queenie's voice is all sickly sweet, layered with the kind of syrupy words that you shouldn't go near with a ten foot pole.
"As soon as he woke up. More or less demanded it." To his right, Harry snorts in amusement.
"I bet he did. And will you? Let him see us?"
I'd like to speak to him," Hermione remarks coldly, "There are answers I'd like to get from him."
Agent Hill nods, "We were willing to allow a meeting, were you to agree, yes."
"Now?" Harry asks, a little impolitely. The Deputy Director just smiles approvingly. She turns to the side out of reflex as she issues commands into her ear-com.
"He'll be brought up soon." The magic users nod in satisfaction and the woman's gaze turns curious, "So how's it going? I read the report from Scotland."
"Good," Harry replies slowly- Hermione leans back in her chair and chooses to say nothing, "We had already expected there to be nothing here. Finding the castle was definitely a surprise. It's odd to be back in the Mu- the usual world, but it would be nice to get out a bit more."
Tony just barely refrains himself from rolling his eyes petulantly. Harry's idea of 'getting out a bit more' involved buggering off to find himself a job. It was shamelessly plebeian of him.
"Speaking of which- we've assigned a few of our researchers to do a little digging. There are a few characters they've been able to find in the history books that we can possibly attribute to your universe."
Hermione sits up straight again, "Really? Have they found any pattern to their original appearances?"
"So far they've only found a few candidates. All of the accounts are hundreds of years old, but from what they've found so far, there's no clear pattern. Some are from Europe, a couple from America. There's one account from the Middle East."
"I'd like to talk to them at some point, if it's possible."
"I can give you a referral. They're based in London."
"Oh," she sinks back down in her seat, disappointed, "Well could you have someone send me their reports when you have the time? I'd love to see what they've got so far."
"Of course."
A short buzz from the table breaks the mind-numbingly awkward conversation. Tony breathes a sigh of relief. That had felt somewhat painful. Agent Hill glances at the table, where the image of the men standing outside is displayed. They're not quite visible from Tony's vantage point. She presses a button.
"We have Mr Malfoy for you Ma'am." The voice sounds tinny and artificial through the small speaker. Half the team straighten in their seats- for various reasons, Tony's sure. The Deputy Director sends them a thin smile.
"Send him in."
The sound of a chair scraping loudly across cheap commercial carpet masks the tsnk of the door on their side of the room sliding open as Hermione stands. He sees the movement out of the corner of his eye; he and the rest of the room have their eyes trained on the door. Four men stand just outside of the doorway; three of them are obviously SHIELD agents, with their conspicuously placed weapons and military-like stances. And their uniforms. That was probably also a giveaway. Two of them sandwich the fourth man, and the third looms behind him, at least half a foot taller.
The middle man is presumably Malfoy. He stands in a way sorely reminiscent of Loki, and Tony automatically flinches at the thought. It's true though; he can see the similarities between the men, with shoulders set rigid and straight, and countered by the fluid grace of their limbs. His hands are un-cuffed, but there are the tell-tale red marks lining his wrists that show they weren't always free. His hair is so blonde it's almost white, swept to the side casually in a style oddly similar to Steve's. He studies them in the typical way elitists consider others; staring down his nose with thinly veiled contempt. His gaze lingers on Harry and Hermione.
"Potter; Granger. Good to see you're both alive." Malfoy remarks, striding into the room as if he owned the place. The agents stand to attention on either side of the doors. Tony already wants him gone. There's way too much Loki in him for his own good.
"You." She breathes from across the room. The blonde studies her a moment, eyes raking over her form in a way that sets Tony's teeth on edge. He smirks.
"Careful there Granger. Wouldn't want you popping an artery so close to your valiant retrieval."
"Saved me?" The pair meet halfway; Queenie vibrating with emotion, hair bristling like an angry cat, and Malfoy- the picture of composure. She grabs the front of his shirt violently, "You bloody bastard. Do you have any idea- any idea- what you've done?"
"Why Hermione," Malfoy sneers, unaffected by his proximity to the seething witch, "Keeping your dignity as usual, I see."
The hard crack of her slap seems to echo through the room.
The blonde reels back, released from her grasp. He cups the side of his face in shock for a long moment, before wiping the blood away from his lip, scowling fiercely.
"Fucking hell Granger. It's only an alternate universe. If you want to go back, all you have to do is find the fucking Ministry and walk through their Veil. Problem solved."
Queenie hisses at him, eyes flashing dangerously and the way her fist is curling makes him think she might punch the man next. Harry is suddenly at her side, tugging the furious woman behind him. He looks far calmer than the witch, but his jaw is clenched and there's a muscle in his throat that tics regularly.
"You don't understand- there is no wizarding community here, Malfoy. There's no Ministry, there's noVeil, and there is no way home."
The blonde freezes and stares back at him, his composure quickly disappearing.
"How can there be no wizards? Did you look?"
"OF COURSE WE FUCKING LOOKED!" Jesus, but doesn't that girl have a set of lungs on her. He almost feels guilty to the newcomer. Almost.
Malfoy wipes at his face again, taking in the new information. He staggers over to the closest chair- which happens to be Hermione's old one- and collapses into it, staring at the duo like they've just told him his mother's died.
"Well shit."
"Well shit's the right of it Draco Malfoy! We had a life! It was our world!"
Malfoy bristles and leaps back up; the antagonism returning to him easily, "And shit," he sneers, "But wasn't it such a great life you were living? Potter forced into hiding by yet another group of psychopaths and Granger- the golden girl who's not been laid in a fucking decade."
Harry has to forcibly restrain Hermione from cursing the blonde man. Unfortunately for Malfoy, with Potter's attention focussed on Queenie, Tony takes it upon himself to jump to the witch's defence instead. He grabs the blond by the neck and pushes him along until his back slams against the wall. The wizard's pale hands rise to scrabble at his ruthless grasp in surprise.
"You shut the fuck up," he snarls, the wiry muscles in his arms bulging satisfyingly, "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but don't you dare talk to her like that again!"
Malfoy stills and eyes the genius warily, not panicking at the choking hold Tony has on his neck. His upper lips curls in disdain even as his pale skin flushes at the pressure on his throat.
"Tony," Hermione warns beside him, placing a placating hand on his shoulder though her voice is still simmering with anger, "Let him go."
Tony complies with barely contained disgust. Who even said things like that? Queenie hadn't deserved to be spoken to like that, and the blonde shit had said everything right to rub him up the wrong way. Malfoy breathes in deeply the moment his hands withdraw, rubbing at the reddening skin of his neck with a grimace.
"Forget what I said Granger. I guess you move fast now there's no Prophet watching your every move."
Tony can't stop the animalistic snarl the escapes, moving forward again as Malfoy goads him with his eyes. Hermione's arm flies out and catches the back of his shirt.
"No Tony. He's not worth it."
"Tch- easy for you to say Granger."
"Shut-up Malfoy." Miraculously, he complies, though Tony pegs it down more to the wand pointed right between his eyes that any sense of obedience.
In the silence that follows, Harry glances at the men who'd accompanied Malfoy. His face reddens, realising exactly how they'd acted in front of a group of strangers, and people who were pretty close to. He clears his throat, turning to Agent Hill, "Can ah… can these men be trusted?"
Tony snorts as he sits back down, "Bit late for that now, don't you think?" Harry scowls at him.
"Agents Baird, Singer and Kincaid have been assigned as Mr Malfoy's guard for the immediate future. They have had full disclosure of your… backgrounds and abilities."
Malfoy raises and eyebrow and regards the men in amusement, "Well aren't you three lucky. What'd you lot do to pull that sort of job?"
"These agents are the best equipped men in this facility to deal with anything you may throw at them." Commander Hill's voice is sharp and stern in what Tony's guessing is an imitation of Fury.
"And I suppose I'd be planning on doing a lot of things that will require their intervention?"
She regards him coolly, "You tell me."
Malfoy moves to sit at the end of the table, isolating himself from everyone else in the room (bar his guards). He grins wickedly, "Well, if I get my hands on that retrieval team…"
"Agent Ward acted perfectly within his bounds."
"He shot me! In the shoulder- I could have died!"
"Agent FitzSimmon's bullets are designed to break immediately upon impact with the subcutaneous tissue. The dendrotoxin introduced to the bloodstream is harmless in such small amounts."
"The case still stands that the bastard shot me. It was unnecessary."
"You were going to pull your own weapon. Ward's pre-emptive action prevented anyone from being harmed and ensured that you would meet your companions as quickly as possible." Malfoy can't fault the woman there, and the sour lemon look on his face says he realises it.
"Then what do you plan on doing to me?" he asks, mulishly admitting defeat.
"Let you out- if you play nice. But until we decide that you're not a threat to Earth and its people, you're in our custody."
"Well that's just great, Nurse Ratched. I look forward to my indefinite captivity."
"Since when have you read muggle literature?" Hermione cuts in, disbelieving.
"Please Granger; my father may have been a bigot, but I didn't live with my head in the sand. Muggles have always been far superior at writing fiction."
"…"
"So, my wand? Can I expect to see that any time in the near future?"
"When you are released, we will return it."
"Lovely. I'm a hobo and defenceless."
"Ah," Tony interjects in complete contradiction of his last actions and entirely unable to stop his mouth, "but you're a hobo with an entourage. It could be worse." Malfoy's razor sharp gaze transfers to him, and Tony is reminded of the first time he met Queenie.
"And you are?"
He smirks at the blonde, "Tony Stark. It seems none us have been introduced yet."
Harry clears his throat, his face still slightly red in embarrassment, "Er, right. Malfoy, this is Commander Hill, Deputy Director of SHIELD. And this is Agent Natasha Romanov, Captain Steve Rogers, Doctor Bruce Banner, and- uh- Tony Stark. They're our-"
"-Housemates." Tony offers, before the wizard can come up with something unintelligent.
"Ah- right. We've been staying with them this past week." And gone on a few roadtrips.
"And what makes you so special to be let out on good behaviour?"
"Uhh… Good behaviour I guess." Malfoy's eyes close for a moment, as if composing himself, before he turns to Queenie to find answers.
"We're still not free to do as we please," she admits, shrugging away the implications of that phrase with a slight toss of her unmanageable hair, "But we do have some liberties. Think of it like witness protection, if you like," The downwards turn of Malfoy's lips says that he doesn't, "And Tony, Bruce, Steve- Natasha- they're the first muggles I've met that wouldn't struggle to meet us on equal ground."
Tony feels oddly honoured and indignant at the revelation.
The blonde stares down at his lap, the contrariety that had so far been a constant expression on his face momentarily absent. By the time he looks back up it's back in full force, "Can I expect to see the two of your more then?" The tone of his voice sounds as though he's rather he didn't and automatically makes Tony sceptical.
Harry smiles at the man like he sees right through him; he probably does, "I'd dare say so."
The line of Malfoy's shoulders relaxes infinitesimally. As though breaking through some indeterminable threshold, Hermione slouches into her seat, sighing heavily.
"Malfoy, why did you do it?" Her words are tremulous, tentative and entirely un-Hermione-like, "We had friends; family. All of us."
The sneer returns, "Friends can be replaced. And what family? The Potters have been dead for decades, and your father died a year ago."
"That doesn't mean we were alone! We had the Weasleys."
"Please, it's been common knowledge for years now that that ship sailed a long time ago. Neither of you have been attached to the remaining brood for years."
"Malfoy." Harry warns, the tone of his voice dangerous. The blonde scoffs.
"Oh face it Potter, I did the two of you a favour. In reality I've had the most to lose from falling through the Veil." His face takes on a wistful cast, "I was going to be their king. The fallen Malfoy saves the wizarding world on the verge of the third wizarding war, whilst Potter and his ilk hid away, twiddling their thumbs, content in watching the world end. I would have been the noble spy- like Severus- sacrificing my happiness for the greater good. They were going to worship me. And, unlike you, I was going to take full advantage of that adoration."
Hermione and Harry stare at the blonde, aghast, but Tony just wants to laugh. It was one of the most ridiculous things he'd heard all week, and yet part of him can't help but think that it could well have worked. From what he'd heard of their universe, magic users seemed pretty content in supporting anything the papers put forward to them. Including genocide. Why shouldn't they have taken this Malfoy asshole on as their future leader?
"That… that is so- so twisted." Hermione breathes. Malfoy sends her a wicked grin, all teeth.
"I know." He says in delight. His face suddenly falls, "And it would have been glorious, had you not fucking led me into the Death Chamber."
"Me? I didn't lead you there you prat! That was purely your doing! What were you doing leading us into the Department of Mysteries anyway!"
"I'd heard on the grapevine that one of your lackeys had been developing an artefact that could bypass the anti-apparition wards without destroying them. I needed to get out of there but didn't want the others getting away too."
Hermione stares at him for a long moment, the gears in her head clearly whirring away, "You bastard," she gasps, "You've got an informant!"
Malfoy looks unimpressed, "That this hasn't occurred to you before now makes me think that maybe you're not as smart as you've been lauded as. Of course I had an informant… fat lot of good it does me now."
"Who is it?"
Harry moves forward, resting his hand on her shoulder, "Leave it Hermione. It doesn't matter now anyway." She glares venomously at the wizard, but doesn't protest. Harry turns back to Malfoy, staunchly avoiding the death-glare and Tony applauds him for the effort, "Why did you save us, Malfoy?"
A pause as the blonde's eyes carry across the room. He looks like he's tossing up whether to tell the truth or not.
"Because if they'd killed you- either of you- you would have turned into martyrs. It was bad enough that Weasley died." Queenie visibly flinches, "You were supposed to remain in hiding, allowing the masses to grow resentful of your non-cooperation. You were never supposed to have even been caught, but it's not as if I had complete control over their actions- I was only ever their manipulator."
Tony blinks in shock. That was probably the most astute thing to come out of Malfoy's mouth so far. It was a surprisingly insightful view of human nature, coming from the man who'd only moment before been fantasizing over a public that adored him, for very vague reasons. Tony bet it hadn't even occurred to Greenbean that his people would have resented his self-induced isolation policy. He glances around the room; his teammates are all considering him in a new light- especially Steve, who'd so far taken to the antagonistic man about as well as he first had to Tony. Now there's a deeply thoughtful look on his face that has him wishing he knew what the super-soldier was thinking.
He looks at the others. Harry and Hermione look shocked, like they hadn't even expected that level of candidness from the blonde wizard. Maria Hill is sitting back in her chair, eyes narrowed warily. Two of the other agents are impassive, but the other- Agent Baird, his patch says- is smiling slightly, as though Malfoy's words were amusing. When Tony catches his eye, the man turns his head fully towards him, the smile growing slightly wider, and winks.
Flirtatiously.
Tony stares; the smile turns into a leer.
What, the fuck.
Malfoy clears his throat when the stunned silence becomes too uncomfortably, "So," Tony tears his eyes away from the weirdo agent, "What's the deal here? They the same, or wildly different?"
Harry shakes off his dumbfounded expression, "The same; more or less. Muggle history is somewhat identical- in the parts that matter, anyhow. They're at least five years ahead of us technology-wise. And they've got mutants instead of wizards."
A look of disgust spreads across the blonde wizard's face. Harry laughs and stands up.
"Not that kind of mutant." He amends, "More like people born with special abilities- like super-healing, or telekinesis or controlling the weather. Others have, like, physical mutations- claws, blue skin, tongues like frogs! There's even this one mutant who can turn into metal!"
It's so odd, watching Harry move about and speak with all the enthusiasm of a teenager- for once matching the youthful façade he wears- when he knows the man is 33.
Malfoy's look of disgust morphs into a nose wrinkled in disbelief, "You're still not selling the concept to me."
"Even cooler; they have superheroes!" Tony can see Bruce and the rest of his team shifting uncomfortably in their seats. He kind of hopes the man doesn't go all fanboy on them. He had to live with them, for christssake. Harry's arm extends backwards, gesturing to everyone seated at the conference table (Goddammit), "There are people here taken straight out of a comic book-" the blank look on Malfoys face tells Tony he's probably never even read a comic before, "-and best of all, they're all mugg-"
Harry suddenly freezes mid-speech, as though in the middle of forgetting his lines.
The agent who'd winked at Tony suddenly smiles, the wicked curl of his lips manic and unhinged. For a moment Tony sees a flicker of green; the momentary impression of a face that shouldn't be there and in the next instant he knows the man is Loki, masquerading as Agent Baird.
His stomach drops.
"Get away from him!" He snarls, bursting away from his seat as though possessed, but not fast enough and Steve has already launched himself halfway across the room but he's still too slow- still too fucking slow as Loki draws the agent's handgun ( and a gun, why a gun? Guns weren't Loki's style they were too dramatic with not nearly the right kind of theatricality!)
Loki's grin just grows wider. A careless hand swats Steve against the far wall, before the super-soldier can even reach them.
"Your help's been much appreciated." He gloats, maliciously cheerful. He levels the gun at an immobilised Harry almost lazily, point blank range. His finger squeezes as if in slow motion.
The shattering CRACK that rips and tears at them echoes in his skull for hours; days. Blood, thick and red, splatters across the wall behind them.
Harry staggers and falls to the ground, clutching at his destroyed chest. Hermione cries out somewhere to Tony's left as Loki turns his head to stare straight at him.
"Later, Stark." He remarks, still grinning like a nutjob. He lowers the gun to point at Harry's chest once again- the wizard is twitching on the ground, eyes wide and terrified.
The Asgardian pulls the trigger again, and in the space between the second deafening CRACK and Tony reaching the dying wizard, both Loki and Harry are gone.
Ehehehhe...
Please don't kill me.
PLEASE READ:
This chapter officially ends the first part of Great Expectations. Lovely place to end it, I know, but that's just the structure of the story. As such, I am actually going to take a break for a month- or four weeks- between updating this with chapter twenty-four. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME: this is mostly because I really need to restock my chapter log, which is running low at the moment.
I know this will probably rub a lot of people up the wrong; especially because it's the absolute worst place to pause it at, but I suppose I could pull out the reason card- I mean, there are tonnes of better fics out there that don't have regular updates and we're all forced to wait months in between updates. All I'm asking for is some patience, and then we'll be back in business with fortnightly updates.
I'm sorry; so sorry. But it'll be worth it in the end, I swear.