Over the next few days, Hermione told him everything about herself and her life read like a book. He could feel she had softened some parts and glossed over others completely, but he was so grateful she would trust him to even share this much. And his girl wasn't just sweet and smart and beautiful, she was also a bad-ass who had kicked nazi-wizards arse during her magical war. But at such a young age… It made him angry.

"War touches everyone, whether you fight in it or not. I just happened to be right in the eye of the storm and had to give it my all if I wanted to live through it. I paid for it, in blood and nightmares… it changed me. But if I had to do it all over again, I would," she finished with a nod, putting down the "sock-juice" as she had called the only tea she could find at the grocers. "Maybe that's why I'm here."

She dropped her head into his lap, her unbound hair hiding the sketchbook on which he had been trying to capture her likeness.

"Because you're a blood-thirsty, vengeful little soldier who can't get enough of fighting nazis?"

"Maybe," she said with a smile. "And maybe you should kiss me with that smart mouth of yours."

He didn't need any more encouragement. He dropped his pencil and buried his fingers in her wild curls. Bucky had been right: practice makes perfect. He wondered if that applied to the bedroom too, but they weren't there quite yet, not with Hermione still processing being in what she called "an alternate dimension". A carbon copy of her own Earth but with one major difference: the absence of magic, or rather of magical society since her own magic worked just fine.

She had seemed to be grieving for a couple of days, before snapping out of it somehow and resuming her life just like before that damned letter had returned, using little magic except in case of emergency, which to be honest, could be anything from a mislaid hairbrush to the stove breaking down. Not to mention she could fill her bath in record time and heat the water much more efficiently that using the tip, much hotter too, and less expensive. It was difficult not to love magic. And then she said she could enlarge the tub to fit for two and he had done an about face and fled to his bedroom. He wasn't much to look at with his clothes on, without his clothes, he just looked sad. Bony and pasty white… his only saving grace was that she didn't have many points of comparison to other male specimens, but he doubted she'd like what she saw.

He sketched in his bedroom while she bathed, listening to the water splashing about and the way she hummed upbeat tunes he had never heard before, when she suddenly screeched and something crashed against the wall. Steve was up like a shot and he yanked the door to the main room open, only to find Bucky standing there with a stupid grin on his face.

"Buck!"

Steve threw his arms around him, getting the same in return.

"Hey, Stevey! You've got a naked dame in your bath."

Steve grinned despite knowing Hermione was probably one second away from hexing them both out of the room.

"Yeah, I do. And what did you bring?"

A wet washcloth hit him square in the head and he laughed, putting his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright, we're leaving!" Steve said as he pushed Bucky out.

They sat on the steps leading up to his flat, Bucky looking out of place in his crisp uniform while Steve only wore one of his old shirts and baggy slacks.

"So, things have changed during my absence. Did the dames start flocking to you when the better looking of us left?"

Steve snorted.

"No. They still avoid me like the plague. Your flock of bird is still out there somewhere, ripe for the taking."

"Except the doll up there. She's pretty."

"She's much more than that."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his smile growing wide as he clapped him on the shoulder.

"Look at you all grown up! Smitten and all. Thought I'd never see the day."

"Neither did I, to be honest. I still can't believe it."

Steve told him how they'd met and how it started, but then had to omit the parts about the magic because it was not his secret to tell, but at the same time, he felt a twist of guilt at doing so, because he'd never lied to Bucky before and keeping this from him felt wrong. They'd always shared everything before. And Bucky looked so genuinely happy for him, it made his guilt grow. So he changed the subject and asked his friend about boot camp and how he'd fared over there. Quite well judging by his sergeant stripes. Just like Hermione. Those two always seemed to collide on some level or other. Maybe alternate dimension Hermione really was Bucky.

"Boys! Dinner's on the table," Hermione called from above,

Steve hadn't realized they'd been talking for so long.

"You better apologize for walking in on her bathing, Buck."

"But I'm not sorry. Thoroughly enjoyed the view in fact."

Steve scowled darkly. He hadn't seen Hermione naked. The Universe was being unnecessarily cruel to give that privilege to Bucky when he could just look at any woman to make her panties drop.

"Be careful or she'll make you sorry."

"I seriously doubt that pal, just because you're whipped doesn't -"

Bucky trailed off as he caught sight of Hermione, thankfully dressed, in her uniform. He glanced at him with a scandalized look on his face he had never seen before, then stared back at her.

"Sergeant," she said.

Steve could see the aforementioned whip now, only it wasn't directed at him.

"Sergeant," Bucky replied smoothly, but seemed to be standing at attention.

A beat passed during which they could have heard a fly buzz. Bucky coughed, clearing his throat.

"I apologize for earlier. I should have knocked."

Hermione relaxed and smiled now that was out of the way.

"Bucky, right? Steve told me so much about you."

Bucky relaxed too.

"All good I hope."

"Depends on your definition of good, I suppose."

As Steve had suspected, once the bath incident was forgiven, the two hit it right off the bat, talking mostly about him at first, then about the army and the war. Observing the two of them over his slice of the pie Maggie had brought up earlier, he couldn't help but think they'd make a far better couple, well matched in everything including looks. A familiar warm hand on his own brought him out of his musings.

"You look exhausted," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I should probably rest. Guess I'm still not a hundred percent over that cold. You around here for a bit, Buck?"

Bucky looked tense, as he always did when he learned he had been sick and he hadn't been there to help. He nodded.

"I'll just crash on the couch, if you don't mind."

Steve exchanged a look with Hermione whose cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. Bucky looked between them with a puzzled expression.

"Unless you do?"

"That's where Hermione sleeps," Steve said, words tumbling out of him.

Bucky frowned,

"But aren't you two, you know…"

Steve's cheeks burned with the fires of a thousand hell pits.

"We're just…"

Words. Failing him as always when he most needed them.

"It's fine," Hermione continued. "I… We can…"

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, and he was either sighing heavily or laughing his arse off.

"I can't believe it, Stevey. You manage to snag yourself a lovely dame and you give up one step away from the bedroom? Do I have to show you kids how it's done?"

"Bucky!" Steve exclaimed. "You can't just say things like that!"

Hermione ruined his outrage by succumbing to a fit of giggles. Bucky elbowed him to catch his attention.

"I like her," he said in a stage whisper. "I fully expected her to throw me out: problem solved."

Steve smiled at him, the devious punk.

"Stay. It's fine. Hermione?"

He offered her his hand and she took it, wiping away her tears of mirth with her other hand.

"Good night, Bucky," she said as she walked past him.

"Night, Buck."

He'd barely closed the door when Bucky hollered back at them.

"If you need pointers, I'll be right here! Pretending I'm not listening!"

Hermione laughed again.

"He's just like you described him," she said. "And here I thought you were exaggerating."

"Never," Steve said, shaking his head.

He looked at the bed. He didn't mind sleeping with Hermione. They had shared the couch and he had loved it, even with the embarrassment of the next morning, but he had had the excuse of accidentally falling asleep to stay dressed. Here in the privacy of his bedroom, it was impossible to justify.

"It's alright, Steve," Hermione said as she squeezed his hand. "We don't have to do anything."

Steve pursed his lips. He certainly didn't deserve Hermione's patience with his issues. Just getting naked was a challenge for him, not to mention all the other stuff. Why couldn't he be more like Bucky?

"What if I want to?" he said defiantly, jutting his chin out in a show of courage he didn't truly feel.

She shifted so she could face him and catch his eye.

"Really? You're not just saying that because Bucky was teasing us?"

"No."

Maybe a little. Everything was so easy for him.

"Alright. I… I'll start," she said and shed her tie, throwing it on the chair next to the bed.

She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse next, then another two, revealing a slither of pale skin and the hint of her cleavage, causing his breathing to hitch. He took a deep, slow breath. He had to stay in control. Or even take control. He raised tentative fingers, ignoring the way they seemed to shake. Hermione didn't comment on it in any case, and she let her own hands drop. It was easier to breathe now that he had a focus, one button, then another. He tucked her shirt out of her skirt and undid the last two buttons. The shirt opened of its own volition, no longer held together by its fastenings, and it slipped off her left shoulder, revealing more white skin which seemed to glow in the dim of the room. She was breathing hard too now, her breast heaving up and down behind the constraints of her simple white bra. He pushed the right side of her shirt off her right shoulder, like unveiling a work of art. She really was beautiful, all curves and softness. The rest of her shirt slipped off, sliding down her arms and falling on the floor with barely a rustle as he looked back up at her.

She smiled and looked flushed, her eyes shining as they reflected the light behind the curtains. She guided his hand to her waist where he found the button to her skirt, the zipper. Once undone, the skirt fell off and she was standing in just her underwear, far more revealing than the strange clothes she had slept in on her first few days living with him. As his eyes travelled back up from the new territory unveiled, his eye caught on the raised flesh peeking out from under her bra, reflecting with a silver sheen. He trailed his fingers over it, a light touch, barely there in case the old scar hurt, wondering when she had gotten it.

"Can I?" she asked with a breathy voice that stirred him from deep within.

Her hands rested on his chest, her desire to reciprocate and undress him evident. Unable to speak just yet, he nodded. How could he refuse her when she offered herself so willingly to him? She unbuttoned his shirt, her eyes intent on her task. She would see him. He knew she wouldn't care about his sickly appearance, but his logic was being beaten to a pulp by his fear like a skinny boy in an alleyway pummeled by a bully. His chest tightened painfully under the onslaught of emotions by the time she undid the last button and what little control he had over his breathing snapped like a rubber band. He coughed, then wheezed and he hated himself so much.

"Steve!" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh Merlin, I'm sorry! Here, sit down. Breathe!"

But the note of fear in her voice alarmed him, caused him to tense up even more.

"Steve, no! Relax, please!"

She tried to uncurl him, free his lungs but it hurt so much.

"Steve?"

And now Bucky, but he couldn't be here right now.

"Oh, fuck! Hold on, bud."

Bucky was efficient, forceful when necessary. He had done this dozens of times before and gave Hermione directions with a military edge to his voice he had never heard before. In no time, which felt like an eternity, his breathing eased.

"Sorry," he managed to say.

To her. To him. For being who he was.

"Shush, Steve. You just focus on getting air in those pesky lungs."

So he did, and, exhausted, he closed his eyes but felt Hermione settle next to him, holding his hand while Bucky sat at the head of his bed on his other side, a strong hand on his shoulder so he would know he was there too. Steve was surprised they all managed to fit in the bed but he supposed he and Hermione were rather on the small side.

"Happen often?" Bucky asked, thinking no doubt he was asleep already, although he didn't have the strength to let him know otherwise.

"No, just the once, but it wasn't this bad. We'd just been laughing and I didn't know at the time he had asthma. I dealt better with it back then, but tonight- I didn't expect him to-"

"Was pretty bad, yeah."

Silence fell for a while, his slight wheezing the only sound in the room.

"You know you're still naked, right?" Bucky asked.

Steve tried to move, to tell him off, but he couldn't so much as look his way.

"I'm not naked," she hissed back like an angry cat. "Just don't look at me."

"I'm having a hard time being in bed with a naked dame and not looking at her."

Steve huffed but it got lost in the noise Hermione made as she left his side. He was going to kill Bucky if he managed to drive her away where he hadn't. But she returned soon after and let her fingers play in his hair.

"You wearing Steve's shirt is oddly appealing."

"And I think Steve was being overly polite when he called you a lady's man."

"Really? And what would you call me, darling?"

"A horndog."

"Is that some Brit expression?"

Try a futuristic one, Steve thought wryly. Hermione hummed, then explained herself.

"Horny dog."

Bucky chuckled.

"Harsh. Funny. I see why Steve likes you," Bucky slumped lower in the bed. They'd shared a bed often enough since they were kids. Because he was sick, or scared, or because it was the only way to keep warm during the harshest winters. "I won't worry so much when I'm shipped off, knowing he'll have someone to take care of him."

"We take care of each other," Hermione corrected.

"Must be nice."

There was a willful tone to his voice. It was silly. Bucky wasn't the sort to settle down. He liked to play the field. Maybe it was knowing he was being shipped off, with no ties back home save his sickly friend? He made a mental note to talk about it to Bucky on the morrow and fell asleep to the comforting tones of the two people who mattered most to him.

Steve woke up alone in bed the next morning and wondered if he'd dreamed the whole night. He hoped he had. How the heck was he going to look either of them in the eye today?

An argument sounded next door and he decided he'd better get over himself and keep the peace between them before one strangled the other. Still, he didn't expect them to be arm wrestling over the table.

"What-"

He didn't have time to ask anymore. Hermione slammed Bucky's hand against the table, declaring herself the winner.

"I got distracted! It's not fair. I demand a rematch!"

"No way, you sissy boy. I won fair and square. You better hold your end of the bargain, or I'll tell everyone you lost against a girl half your size."

"Steve!" Bucky whined. "Your girl is evil."

"Why? Did you just bet your soul?"

Hermione snorted and poured him his coffee, pushing it his way with a wink. Given her size and utter lack of muscles, it was a safe bet to assume she had used her magic to pull one over on Bucky. Steve sat between his friends, waiting to hear what trouble Bucky had managed to get himself into.

"A dame! She'll never get over the disappointment."

"You don't need two girls on your arm, Barns. You can't sully your uniform in such a way."

"Two?" Steve asked, eyebrows shooting up. That was a bit crass, even by his standards.

"Hey! One of them was for you, bud. I didn't know you'd already gotten yourself a beauty of your own."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And this cad here said he was going to bring both."

"I'm gonna have to side with Hermione on this one, Buck. Just one thing though, where are we going exactly?"

Bucky reached into his vest, depositing four tickets to the Stark Expo in flushing Meadows that night. Steve grinned. He'd wanted to take Hermione, but by the time he'd gotten around to buying tickets, they were already sold out.

"Wait a minute," Hermione said, eyeing the tickets. "Were you going to make those poor girls fight for one of those tickets?"

Bucky grinned.

"No… But I like how you think!"

Hermione shook her head and finished her cup. Standing, she smoothed out her uniform and pecked him on the lips, just as she always did, as if last night had never happened. He knew this wasn't the time to have that discussion when she had to leave for work, so he wished her a good day.

"Hermione! Don't I get a kiss too?" Bucky shouted before she could close the door.

"You've got cooties!" she shot back.

"Damn. I think I'm jealous," Bucky told him.

"Well, that's a first." His laugh died on his lips as he recalled the previous night. "About last night…"

"Hey, think nothing of it. Hermione understands. You know I do. I feel like I should be the one apologizing though. I didn't realize pushing you two together would trigger an attack."

Steve looked at the table, the cracks and stains in the old wood.

"So you two never…"

He shook his head.

"I panicked. Not because of… that, because I want to. I really want to. But just the thought she would see what's under…"

Steve gestured at his bony shoulders, sunken chest, meaning everything.

"I'm sure she wouldn't think any less of you. In fact, I think she loves you for who you really are. That's a rare gift, Steve."

"I know, I know. I think I love her too. I never told her. I'm an idiot. I should tell her."

"Don't wait too long. Time is a precious thing nowadays."