Boop, new chapter, which I only just managed to finish in time for today's deadline... Hope you guys enjoy it... there are a few things that just sort of happened here, which I'd originally planned on doing at some later point, but it just fit, putting it in here.
WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THOR 2 BELOW! BEWARE THE SPOILERY SPOILERS!
Other than that- thanks to everyone who left a review! People are awesome. For those that don't know what AO3 is (which included myself for a long time, even though I had actually used it before)- it stands for Archive of Our Own (get it? A and 3 O's! It took me ages to make the connection :I), which is another ff website- not as navigable as FFN I feel, but they use tags, and you can include more than just two fandoms for crossovers, and have more than just two characters in your content descriptors, which I find pretty nifty. Not to mention you can link stories together, which is a feature FFN unfortunately doesn't offer.
But anyway, I'll get off my soap-box and let you guys read :)
Part Two: Gifts Not For Giving
Chapter Twenty-Six: Praying to a Smiling God
The aftermath of The Incident had not been pretty.
In the minutes immediately after Harry and Loki had disappeared without a trace (quite literally- there wasn't even a speck of the wizard's blood left on the shitty commercial carpet for them to find), Hermione had been close to hysterics, scrambling over to the spot where Harry's twitching body had fallen and kneeling on the ground. A constant flow of 'nononononnoNO' fell from her lips. Steve and Tony had just stood there dumbly, staring in shock at the witch as her frantic words grew more desperate by the second, her diagnostic spells giving her nothing of use.
It didn't take long for her voice to turn tearful, her breath hitching, sounds coming out in wretched gasps. Something inside of Tony snapped at the sight of it. It reminded him far too much of the mess she'd been in that first day on the Helicarrier, screaming and bleeding and crying for men who couldn't come for her. It was almost physically painful to see her like this, when he was so used to her standing tall and proud and dignified and sad.
He's moving forward before he can even fully register what he's doing, his arm reaching out to rest of her good shoulder in some weak display of the comfort he wished he could give her.
Hermione physically flinches away from his hand, the litany of words cutting off abruptly. She hunches further into herself and he tries not to take it personally (even though it's all his fault fuck how was ever going to explain this?). He doesn't remove his hand. After a long moment, the trembling stops and she very deliberately puts her wand back into the space in her sling.
"Who was that?" She asks slowly, each word spoken perfectly, the sounds drawn out deliberately. The murderous intent in her voice is as clear as day.
"Loki." He breathes. His voice sounds as if it was coming from far away.
She looks up sharply; her eyes hold a savage and wild light that makes him want to turn and run away, but he braves the rage and holds his ground.
"The Asgardian."
Tony can't tear his eyes away from hers; can't even bring himself to answer.
"Yes." Steve rumbles behind them. Hermione's gaze doesn't so much as flicker in his direction.
"I was under the impression Loki was dead."
Tony's throat swallows convulsively and something in Hermione's expression hardens and closes off.
She knows.
The thought rises; as bright as true as anything he'd even known, and in that moment he can't even bring himself to be mad at her for reading his mind again.
His fault. It was all his fault.
"I- guess he's not as dead as we were led to believe."
This time she turns to Steve. It feels like a dismissal.
"How," she asks slowly as she stands, jerking her should away from Tony's hand as though it were diseased, "Did he get into SHIELD? Better yet-" and now she turns to face an impressively blank-faced Maria Hill, "-How did he find out about us? I was informed that our existence was of a strictly need-to-know basis."
She is, Tony thinks in an oddly detached sort of way, remarkably unaffected by the fact that her closest friend was missing, with two fatal bullet wounds to his chest, now that her initial hysterics are out of the way.
"SHIELD has protocols in place for the event of a hostile infiltration by a magic user." Hill replies in an impressive display of stoicism, though her face has a distinctive pallor to it that gives away her shock nonetheless.
"And yet, Harry has been stolen, for right under your nose. By a documented madman impersonating one of your agents, no less."
Hill says nothing. The muscles around her mouth twitch ominously.
Steve makes a distressed sound and moves towards the witch, a large hand rising to rest right where Tony's had been.
"Hermione," he starts quietly, fingers squeezing softly at her fabric-covered shoulder, "Shot's like that… they're-"
"-No." She cuts him off, "He's not dead."
His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, his big, stupid blue eyes unnaturally shiny and full to the brim with pity and angst. Or maybe it was sympathy, "I just think that-"
"-No." She repeats firmly. She steps away from the super-soldier and his hand falls to his side like and dead and useless thing, "He is not dead. He can't die."
And she delivers that line with such honest, sober conviction that Tony is fully inclined to believe her; until he remembers the ringing in his ears and way Harry's blood had spattered across the wall.
"Queenie, you don't just walk away from wounds like that." The gaze she levels him with is flat and unforgiving and so saturated with contempt that he has to restrain himself from flinching. It hurts in more ways than he'd like to analyse that she looks at him like so; like he'd stolen something precious of hers and reduced it to dust in front of her.
"You don't understand." She replies, brown eyes sliding over him finally to rest on each face in the room, "Harry can't die. At all. It wasn't just accidental magic that saved him when he fell."
Oh. Oh shit.
He suddenly remembers her debriefing, what feels like months ago now, when she'd talked about how Harry had changed; how something they'd found during their war had frozen him in time. Whatever she'd been talking about then- whatever they'd found- it had done more than just halt his aging. He'd suspected it- had voiced it even- but it was one thing to suspect, another to have it confirmed. His mind casts back to the conversation he'd had with Bruce and Steve, and Loki's warning of an object that reeked of death. It was obvious now that the two were connected- were probably the same thing (who was he kidding? It had always been obvious, he'd just wanted it to not be so, and it should have been so fucking obvious that Loki had been interested in them- in Harry- and maybe, if he'd just fucking said something, they'd have been more careful and Harry wouldn't have been kidnapped and Hermione wouldn't hate him-). He wonders what it was Harry had paid in exchange for the object.
A shiver runs down his spine.
"So I'm telling you- Harry is alive, and he's just been stolen by the alien who quite recently tried to subjugate the world to his will." Her voice almost- almost- grows hysterical then; the fury in her manner leaking through the calm mask before she gains control of herself again.
"I promise you," Hill says, deadly serious but obviously in placation mode, "SHIELD will do all it can to find your partner."
Hermione contemplates the woman coolly; her lawyer-mode firmly back in place, "I would very much like to believe that, Deputy Director, but SHIELD has just proven itself woefully inadequate at detecting Loki's presence within their own headquarters. I fail to see how anyone in your organisation- beyond those in this room- could possibly hope to find him." Tony watches in an odd sort of muted horror, as hostile, agitated energy gathers around her again, her hair frizzing and crackling around her weakening poker face.
"In the wrong hands, Harry could be potentially devastating, and he's just been kidnapped by an Asgardian madman and a magic-user to boot. I'd like to think you can understand my vexation."
A snort from behind him, sharp and derisive, "One day, Granger. One day, and you've already managed to land us in a diplomatic nightmare. Fucking hell, but you lot don't do anything by halves, do you?"
"Say another word Malfoy, and I will personally see to it that you never see your wand again."
The mouthy blonde wisely closes his mouth. Tony looks on unhappily.
In the strained silence that follows, Hermione's eyes slide up to a corner of the room, "Do you have that on film?"
If Tony didn't feel like he's been punched in the gut multiple times, he probably would have snorted. Of course it's recorded. And backed up on a million different servers around the globe, if they were anything like SI.
Hill nods tightly.
"Good. Can you have it sent to Jarvis, please? I think we need to show the footage to Thor." She turns to the rest of them, "And I think it's time for us to leave. No, Agent Hill-" she says sharply, before the other woman can interject, "I am not remaining in this facility any longer than I have to. And I feel it would be prudent for Malfoy to return with us."
Tony twitches. She hadn't exactly asked if they were going to be okay with that, "Queenie, I don't think that's the best idea."
She turns on him; her face is cold, expressionless in a way that lets him know exactly how much of a say he now has in the proceedings, "Harry was targeted- most likely because of the three of us, he was the most vulnerable. But I don't think it will take long for Loki to work out that Harry won't succumb to any of his… persuasion techniques. If he comes for the rest of us, I'd rather we were prepared, and it is far harder to defend ourselves when separated. Not only that, but the chances are high that I will need his help in locating Harry.
"Speaking of which-" she turns back to Hill, dismissing him, "I think it would be prudent to renegotiate the terms of Malfoy's release. If Loki returns, out best line of defence is being at full capability- I'd like to have his wand returned, under certain restrictions."
He doesn't pay much attention after that, too lost in the growing whirlwind of his thoughts. Her frostiness after receiving for so long those flirtatious smirks and coquettish banter leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He'd found a real connection in Hermione, achingly close to the one he still shares with Pepper. And call him a sucker for punishment, but he'd wanted more of it. The possibility of that are ruined, now. There's no chance Hermione won't take this as some kind betrayal. He should have said something- should have let them know right at the start of it all that Loki was alive and on Earth. Should have told them of Loki's interest in the newcomers, but he hadn't and now Hermione wouldn't even look at him because she knew; she knew he knew about Loki and had never even bothered to open his mouth.
God, but he was so fucked.
Part of him wonders if Loki had known this would happen. If so, he'd played right into the bastard's hands.
Thor didn't believe them, at first. Loki had died in his arms, why did they have to slight his brother's final act of heroism with such slander?
They show him the security footage. He leaves the tower for several hours.
His hands shake as he picks up Mjolnir; no one speaks of it.
Beyond coordinating their efforts in searching for Harry, not once does Hermione speak to him in the next three days.
Not that Tony can bring himself to say anything to her; further than offering her the use of one of the many labs in the tower, he's loathe to bring himself under her scathing scrutiny, and not a small bit terrified of her telling everyone else about his 'acquaintance' with Loki. Bruce- bless his green, anger-issue-ridden soul- takes it upon himself to liaison between Hermione's group (which generally consists of just her and occasionally Malfoy, and sometimes Natasha, whom Tony suspects is only there to ensure Hermione doesn't work herself to death) and himself and Tony when it becomes clear that neither are speaking to each other. He's not-so-secretly grateful for the not-so-subtle interference, because her cold silence leaves him feeling as though there were a gaping pit festering deep inside his gut.
An irrational part of him fears that this is how it's going to be between them forever; the thought scares him far more than he'll ever admit.
Meals are a strained affair. Even when Hermione doesn't turn up (which is admittedly, most of the time), conversations are strained, troubled and in Thor's case, bordering on the morose. Hermione speaks only when prompted; Malfoy is a trenchant prick at the best of times; and their dour moods have managed to bring even Clint down. Natasha sends him pointed and vaguely terrifying looks at every meal Hermione actually managed to turn up to, looking like hell with her unkempt hair, sallow, greasy skin and dark circles beneath her eyes.
In complete contrast, her companion seems almost cheery- despite his acidic tongue. He keeps mostly to himself (thankfully) when not forced to work with Queenie, though, according to Bruce (who sees far more of the 'outside world' that Tony does), he's been getting on quite well with Clint and Natasha. Something to do with 'a platonic appreciation for all things espionage and subterfuge'. Typical.
The usually verbose Queenie only responds in monosyllabic words now; terse responses to the same cautious questions Steve, Bruce and Natasha ask:
'How's your day been?'
'Fine.'
'It's good to see you out of the lab, Hermione.'
'Mm, I guess.'
'Have you made any progress today?'
A tight smile, and a quick extraction.
From what Tony's gathered, Hermione's made about as much progress as he as in the Harry department; absolutely fuck-all. Wherever Loki is, he's hidden himself perfectly, and so far, none of the various instruments SI and SHIELD have around the world have picked up so much as a peep of energy. Fucking magic.
And they can't even call up for help- his money would have been Xavier's lot. He'd heard for decades now about a machine that was able to pinpoint the location of any mutant in the world, but none of the magic users fell under the mutant category, so he didn't exactly have high hope there- and besides that, he wasn't exactly keen on broadcasting the magic user's appearance any further than those in the tower.
In his honest opinion, their best bet was to simply wait it out; Loki may be a millennia old, but he was still a man, and sooner or later he was going to slip up. His track record almost guaranteed it (he told himself). In the meantime, Tony made sure his network of satellites were calibrated to pick up any hint of Loki's energy signature- and the magic users, for good measure- and he has Jarvis running facial recognition software through all of the camera footage he can get his electronic hands on.
Even Thor has no idea where Loki could have hidden himself (though he'd assured them he wasn't on Asgard) and Heimdall had apparently been unable to spot him either. There wasn't really anything else he could do. In the ample amounts of spare time he had left over he busied himself with designs for a magic resistant suit (and resolutely not thinking about Hermione). He couldn't forget the way Harry's accident on the Helicarrier had fried all of the electronics in the room. It was… well, slow going, given he couldn't bring himself to ask help from Hermione, and Malfoy had been restricted to only being able to use his wand in Queenie's presence, but he putters along determinedly. Part of him is guilty, for not running himself into the ground like Hermione is clearly doing, but he knows there's not really that much more he can do.
It all comes to a head on day five.
Tony's been half-heartedly working on the schematics for a protection unit over his arc-reactor for the past four hours (he thinks); thought if he's honest with himself, most of his efforts have been spend second guessing his actions of the past month- just like he's been doing for the past four fucking days, and fervently praying to a Smiling God that they won't end up finding Harry's body discarded in a ditch somewhere, because Hermione really would kill him then. And yeah, okay, they guy supposedly couldn't die, but surely that ability could be taken away, and if there was a way, he was sure Loki would find it. He was wily like that.
He'd skipped out on dinner the night previous in the hopes of avoiding Hermione and her sombre, judgey eyes and Natasha's pointed looks, but really only succeeded in thinking about the witch to the point of obsession. Even so, he fully intends to do the same again tonight; it wasn't as if it was an uncharacteristic behavioural trait of his.
Bruce, as it turns out, has some objections to this decision.
"Tony," the scientist pleads- as much as Bruce can plead, at any rate, the serene bastard, "You can't hide from Hermione forever."
He freezes, halfway through expanding the circuitry designs around the reactor, and tries to pass if off as pausing to inspect the clean, electronic lines. He'd forgotten how much the man liked to hit the heart of the problem.
"I was working."
Not quite a lie, but pretty close to one.
Bruce huffs and moves so Tony can't pretend to not be paying attention to him, "No, you weren't. I asked Jarvis; you spend the majority of the night staring aimlessly at the walls."
"Traitor." He glares at the ceiling. Bruce rolls his eyes.
"Look Tony, I don't know what's happened between you and Hermione, but I'm starting to worry that it'll start screwing with the relations between us and them. Because if push comes to shove and we're forced to take sides, you know we're going to pick yours."
He sighs, sitting back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. His hands fight the urge to fiddle guiltily with the hem of his shirt.
"I fucked up Bruce… and I don't think it's a fixer."
A rustle and the sound of metal clinking about as his friend sits on a workbench, "You're being stupid."
Tony looks up sharply, glaring, "Am not."
"Are so." He gives him an exasperated smile, "She wouldn't still be here if it were irreparable. Hermione's… wilful. If you did something irredeemable in her eyes, I can guarantee that she would be long gone."
"Irredeemable? Have you seen the way she looks at me now?"
"I have, actually. It's…" he swallows, the small smile fading, "I'm not going to lie; she looks betrayed. I don't know what you did- or what you said, but it's made her pretty angry. But I do think that it's something you can fix. And yeah, okay; she could actually turn you into a newt, but the good news is; I'm pretty sure she'd turn you back."
He stares at Bruce, nonplussed, "You're not really selling your argument here Bruce." The scientist rolls his eyes.
"Just apologise Tony! And you'd better do it soon, before Natasha forces you to. She's kind of protective of Hermione."
The nonplussed look morphs into one of consternation. Bruce grimaces in vexation, "It's not the end of the world, Tony."
He does not pout, "Says you."
"Do I need to get Natasha? Is that what I'm going to have to do?"
He flinches at the threat, "Nooo." God knows what Nat would do to him. Bruce nods in satisfaction, that stupid, subtle smile on his face that says he's immensely amused by Tony's infantile behaviour.
"Good. Because I have it on excellent authority that she's alone in her lab right now; if you didn't want an audience."
He stares at the man with narrowed eyes, "You're in league with Nat, aren't you."
The scientist blinks at him guilelessly, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're a filthy liar. I don't know why you're so good a poker."
He shrugs, "It's a skill. Now git, before I get the broom out."
He fights the small smiles threatening to spread across his face as he stands and moves away, "You'd have to find one first."
"Dum-E would help; I'm his favourite."
Tony snorts, "Only 'cause you let him near you with that bloody fire extinguisher."
"Get out, Tony."
"Yes Mom."
The doors close silently behind him, and the anxiety that had been alleviated by Bruce's advice suddenly returns full force. He sighs heavily into the silence of the empty corridor and rests his head on the concrete wall.
"Jarvis, is Hermione in her lab?"
"Yes sir, Miss Granger has not emerged from her lab since 0637 hours."
Huh. Not nearly as bad as him on one of his science benders, for sure. Then again, he didn't have a superspy on his back to ensure he was fed and watered. Or at least, not anymore.
Hermione's lab is two floors below his, in the lower realms of the Avengers (and approved companions) only access areas- one of the many labs he'd had built into the floors. They were technically separate from SI's R and D levels, with their own secure connection to Jarvis' mainframe and spending budgets (that more or less came straight out of his own pocket). Most of the labs and rooms were empty and waiting to be filled, which was advantageous when looking for a spot to fit Queenie and her research that could effectively buffer any of the potentially disastrous effects that her magic could have on the surrounding expensive and incredibly sensitive tech. The last thing they needed was an 'explosion' frying their electronics.
He makes his way down to her lab more-or-less on autopilot. The apprehension churning viciously in his gut is enough to distract him from the journey and he finds himself standing outside the shatter-proof doors before he can even register the trip. The light on the panel beside the doors shows that she hasn't enforced level one lock-out mode to prevent distractions. He'd take it as a good sign, usually, but right now there are a million places he'd rather be. He stares at the interface module determinedly- not quite able to bring himself to look through the doors. He hasn't seen Hermione for almost 48 hours, and it feels almost like forever.
"Doctor Banner has requested I convey the message; 'If you don't open that door in the next ten seconds Tony, I'm sending Natasha down.'" Jarvis interrupts his thoughts. Disconcertingly, the intimation seems even more effective when delivered in the AI's dry, unassuming voice. He scowls; Bruce isn't exactly known to fail to follow through with his threats.
"Fine." He mutters mulishly, feeling for all the world like he should not be here. But only because Natasha terrifies me. To be fair though, so did Queenie; seriously, magic. How was he supposed to compete against someone (without his armour) who regularly flipped the bird at the laws of physics; with whom he sort of/kind of/definitely held a flame for?
Totally not fair.
He presses his thumb against the biometric scanner on the interface and the doors slide open with a faint beep. The soft notes of classical music reach his ears immediately as his eyes zero in on the curly-haired woman. She works with her back turned to the door, poring over a large sheet of paper spread across a worktop. Her wild hair is pulled back in a sloppy ponytail.
"I know it's dinner time Nat, but can't it wait? I'm kind of in the middle of something here." She says irritably, speaking only just loud enough to bypass the music playing, not bothering to turn around. She sounds tired.
He swallows nervously. The cocky mask he wears so often comes up sluggishly.
"Guess I'm not the only one caught trying to skive off."
The witch stiffens and Tony braces himself for the inevitable explosion.
"Tony."
"Hermione."
"What are you doing here?" She straightens up but doesn't turn around. He's almost grateful.
"I'm sorry."
She spins around, eyes sparking dangerously, "Sorry. You're sorry." She echoes tightly, "Harry is missing; kidnapped by a man everyone thought was dead- everyone except for you, that is- and that's all you have to say?"
"What else do you want me to say?"
"I trusted you!" She cries, arm flinging something at him. He dodges on instinct and a pen bounces ineffectually to the floor, "Out of all the people here, I trusted you the most."
"I didn't-"
"-And then I find out that you slept with him!"
"I didn't know at the fucking time! Jesus Christ Hermione, he was six foot one with a rack and a-" She cuts him off there, and this time he is grateful.
"-And you never said a single thing afterwards. Nothing. Thor- he thought his little brother was dead- had died in his arms almost straight after the death of his own bloody mother!" Another pen is thrown his way and he doesn't try to dodge. She moves closer, her pale skin turning a splotchy red in her anger.
Resolutely, he stands his ground.
"Your team- they're clueless. They've no idea you let a mass murderer and a madman into their home- their sanctuary! No clue that perhaps they should be on guard for the man who very nearly succeeded in taking over your world! You and your blood pride, Tony Stark!"
A stapler flies at him this time and he moves out of the path of its trajectory quickly. Staples explode from it violently as it smashes into the durable glass of a computer screen. She moves forward another step.
"You never said a single thing, Tony Stark. Never even bothered to give them a heads up about Loki's return to Earth, let alone his vested interest in Harry and I! You knew, and you never said anything and now-" her voice hitches, tears making her voice weedy and unsteady, "-Any now Harry's gone and I can't find him."
He takes a step forward, throat closing up uncomfortably.
"We never stood a fucking chance." And then she smiles at him, and it's a sharp and bitter thing, angry in a way that no woman's smile should be. Her eyes are pink and irritated as she obviously fights the tears threatening to fall.
"I never meant for any of this to happen." He murmurs softly. His stomach feels as though it will turn itself inside out at any moment.
"Oh screw you, Tony. Nobody ever means for shit like this to happen." She sobs at him and then they're crashing into each other, before he can register his limbs moving, wrapping around each other like two missing pieces of a puzzle.
"I thought we were finally safe." He buries his nose in her hair at the broken words, a hand rises to cradle her head. She sniffles indelicately at the contact.
"I'm sorry," He breathes, holding her tightly, "If I- if I'd known, I would have made the alert weeks ago."
"I know Tony. I just want him back. I-" want to go home. He remembers the sentiment. His fingers tighten imperceptibly.
"I know."
She pulls back, watery eyes locking on his. She's a mess; blotchy skin; lips red-raw from biting; eyes an angry, inflamed pink. He can't bring himself to care though, as he cradles a tear-stained cheek with callused fingers. Her jaw clenches beneath his palm, but she doesn't pull away. Go on, muddy brown eyes dare him, do it. He bites the inside of his lip as he debates it; it felt like poor form to kiss her when she was upset like this.
As if in challenge, her chin juts upwards.
Even so, he hesitates, unsure for long enough that Hermione rolls her eyes, snarls a quiet, "For Chrissakes," and grabs him by the nape of the neck, crashing his lips down on hers shamelessly.
For a long moment his brain shorts out as her roughened, dry lips press against his; surprised more than anything. Fingers curl into his hair and tug and the witch presses closers to him and he suddenly remembers that he's supposed to be doing something. Tentatively he moves his lips against hers and she huffs through her nose, tugging on his hair again in reprimand. His fingers dig into the soft flesh along her jawline and this time she breathes in sharply, lips parting; the passive act in stark contrast to the way she surges into him. She kisses like it's a test- the determination to succeed written in each of her movements and he rise to the challenge readily. He never really was one to back down from a challenge.
And somewhere in the crimson shift of lips on tongues; of teeth and flesh and bones; words finally begin to fail him; because it may not be earth-shattering, or perfect or any of those other things Romantics like to describe the act as, but it's still pretty bloody fantastic. Instinct kicks in. His body temperature rises in response to Hermione's proximity and beneath his fevered hands she's softened skin and textured hair and the push and pull of air through lungs and veins and arteries. Sliding across his skin are fingers and nails and little noises from the back of her throat that urge him to press into her further, to bite hard at the supple skin of her neck and own her-
-He pulls back- mildly disturbed by the thought and suddenly realises that he's practically crowded her up onto her workbench, cradled tightly between her legs. He swallows and licks at lips that taste like salt. His hands slide down to rest on her clavicles, thumbs resting side by side upon her voice box. His index fingers underline her chin. Her skin feels blazingly hot beneath his own.
He could kill her like this, the objective part of his brain offers unhelpfully. Squeeze his hands until the writhing stops and the shine of her eyes goes dull.
If she realises it, she makes no effort to move. A hand rises- rests on his cheek as her canny, defiant eyes scan his face. She licks her lips unconsciously.
"What?"
He smiles; acts like the thought had never crossed his mind, "Nothing." He lies, knowing that he could never do something like it. Even if they hated each other; even if they were arch enemies. To steal a mind as bright as hers would be a crime worse than murder. But it's humbling, how much she trusts him- even after finding out about Loki. He remembers the wounded creature of their first meeting; feral and ready to bite at any moment, with a crackling wit and intelligence that entranced him before he'd even had a chance to get her name.
The smallest of smirks grace her lips, "Well doesn't that just stroke a girl's ego, Mister Stark." She murmurs, rising on her feet to brush her smile against his own.
He laughs though his nose and rests his forehead on hers, rubbing at the skin of her neck lightly. She smells like rain on hot, dry earth and ozone and spice.
"I'm still mad at you."
"Okay."
"If it happens again, I'll turn you into a newt; I know how to do that, you know."
"Okay."
"And…" She looks away guiltily, "I'm sorry for reading your mind. I'm usually far more scrupulous when it comes to legilimency. It wasn't right and I shouldn't have done it."
He nods dumbly; he hadn't expected her to even bother to apologise for that. In a way he's almost grateful that she had done it, because it saved him the embarrassment of having to explain it himself. And yeah, okay, she'd read his mind, but it wasn't like he hadn't pushed (and overstepped) the privacy boundary on numerous occasions with his hacking.
"If it's any consolation, I only skimmed the surface of your psyche, where the scene was already at the forefront."
"Unlike the first time?"
She smiles wryly, "I won't apologise for that. It was a matter of survival; I needed to know if you were someone I could trust."
He bites the inside of his cheek nervously, "And do you? Still?"
The smile turns melancholic, "Do you think I'd be here if I didn't?" he shakes his head mutely, "I had a lot of time to think about what you did- I knew you hadn't done it maliciously, but I… I wanted someone to blame, and you were so guilty you were almost asking to be a scapegoat."
He looks away, shamefaced and she sighs heavily, patting his cheek, "I know it wasn't really your fault, Tony. SHIELD doesn't know enough about us or our kind to safeguard themselves from an infiltration- let alone a full blown attack- and we should have been more diligent in light of that. Even so, Loki would have gotten his hands on one of us at some point."
"We could have been more prepared- more aware. I shouldn't have kept the knowledge to myself."
She nods slowly, "Yeah, you shouldn't have. But it's okay." she shrugs, face sad, "What's done is done. The best thing for us to do now is to focus on finding Harry." Her hand slides back to lightly pull at his hair, mischief lighting up her eyes as she tilts her head, "But I think… in the meantime, you should probably kiss me again."
He stares at her mouth, "What about finding Harry?"
Hermione shrugs again, "I've got a monitoring spell active. Kind of like what Jarvis is doing on your end. If he emerges from wherever Loki's got them hiding, I'll know." She moves in, chapped lips stopping an inch away from his, "Now I think I asked you to kiss me, Tin Man."
"Okay."
He could do that for her, at the very least.
*hums*
Soo... like I said... hadn't originally planned to put the kiss in yet... but I felt like it fit, I guess. What do you guys think? Too soon? Too sudden?
Also, a question:
Is Tony a fan of Welcome to Nightvale?
Or is he StrexCorp?
*dun dun DUNN*