CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Summary:When Hermione's contract with SHIELD is sold to Stark Industries and she's traded like she's prized cattle, she is far from pleased. But then, she meets the notorious man for herself and she finds herself thinking that perhaps, it wasn't all that bad a trade.

Disclaimer:All original characters and canon events belong to J.K. Rowling and Marvel. Non-canon events and characters are my own. I am not making any profit from posting this fanfic. Characters are likely to be OOC. This takes place after Iron Man 2, and I will be taking liberties with the timeline/canon events. Rated for language, violence and sexual content.

Page count: 18

She needed time for herself. Time away from her lab, away from the Tower, away from Tony. Away from everyone and everything. She needed time to think and contemplate the happenings of the last few weeks and decide on a course of action and there was certainly a lot to think about. Her past, her present and her future.

She hadn't been able to sleep once George had left with a sleeping Fred in his arms and she'd returned to the couch, perching on the edge of the cushion as her focus was held by a slumbering Tony and her cat that loved him so much. That in itself was a great feat.

The unease continued to grow until she felt her magic buzzing beneath her skin, her hair frizzing out uncontrollably and her stomach swimming with discomfort. Unable to take it, she returned to her bedroom and threw on some clothes before she took her leave from the Tower, in need of fresh air. She knew it was stupid and unsafe for her to go wandering the streets alone at such an hour but at the time, she needed it and hadn't cared. When the hour grew later and daylight was on the cusp of breaking, Hermione stopped at a diner to grab a warm drink, hoping it would help fend off the chill in the air.

Once the diner grew busy with patrons stopping by for breakfast, she left a tip on the table and exited the door, getting caught up in the crowds and morning traffic. She had no destination in mind, just allowed her feet to carry her and before she knew it, she was standing before the wall inside a bookshop that guarded the entrance to Wizarding Manhattan. Sighing, she pressed the tip of her wand to the wall and a door appeared, swinging open for her.

As Hermione stepped through the door and into a corridor, not wanting to be potentially recognised, she silently changed her appearance; the colour of her hair, the shape of her nose and the colour of her eyes. A final door swung open and granted access to the cold cobblestone and the aged buildings, so different to Muggle Manhattan.

She made her way through the crowds and allowed the magic surrounding her to flow over her and brush against her exposed skin. Even a Warming Charm did little to fend off the cold. It had been some time since she'd last visited Wizarding Manhattan and not wanting to waste an opportunity, she allowed her mind to quiet and her body to run on autopilot as she went about something that was familiar and calming; restocking and browsing. Usually, should she require anything from the Wizarding part of Manhattan she would send correspondence and order through Owl Post as she was much too busy to attend in person. At least now, it gave her the chance to ensure the quality of her purchases and see how they were stored.

Hours later, her pockets were filled with shrunken down purchases including a number of new books, some of which she admittedly didn't need but they had took her fancy. Not yet being ready to return home and face any further decisions or discussions, she found herself in a park, observing the laughing children as they played and flew on brooms and the gathered group of mothers that perched on magically heated benches.

She stayed for almost an hour before her stomach grumbled in protest that she find something to eat, having not eaten since the day before. She stepped into a pub, The Banshee's Inn and Keep, finding herself a seat in the back of the room and glancing over the menu. She pursed her lips unhappily when a house-elf appeared beside her, wishing to take her food and drink order and despite her disapproving thoughts on the matter and her current mood, that did not stop her from being polite.

Moments later, a butterbeer appeared on the table and ten minutes after that, her food arrived, a generous portion of meat pie and mashed potato. When her stomach was satisfied, the empty plate and dirty cutlery blinked out of existence and her empty butterbeer was replaced by a full tankard. She quietly sipped at her drink and observed the comings and goings of the patrons, the crowd growing bigger as time passed and evening arrived. By the time the pub was almost filled to capacity and noise filled every corner of the room, Hermione had swapped from butterbeer to fire whiskey. There had been several wizards that had seen her sitting alone and had tried to approach her but she simply grasped her wand in her hand, giving them the message that she did not want company and she wished to be alone.

As time continued to pass, she sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face and tired eyes, knowing she'd been gone far too long and she had to get home. She couldn't hide forever and it was time she faced the music, no matter how much she didn't wish to. Besides, she could feel the magic of her altered appearance fading and she wasn't in the mood to be recognised, nor could she be bothered to repeat the alterations she'd made.

Leaving payment for her meal and drinks on the table, she stood from her seat and slipped between the busy crowd and out of the pub, slowly making her way towards the gateway between the two worlds. Once she stepped back into the Muggle World, Hermione checked her surroundings before she spun on her heel, apparating into an alleyway a few blocks away from Stark Tower.

Within fifteen minutes she was surrounded by warmth as she stepped into the building, nodding in greeting to the security guards that perched at their stations and she entered the lift, tiredly leaning back against the metal wall as she felt the jerk of the lift as it headed up to the penthouse.

When she exited, she was surprised and a little unnerved by the darkness and silence that met her, a motion sensor being triggered and bathing the room in a soft glow at her presence. Her eyes swept her surroundings, seeing no sign of Tony and there were no lights on in his lab either. Admittedly, she was a little concerned but pushed the thought aside. Tony was a grown man and he had his own responsibilities and business to deal with.

After greeting and feeding Sally, Hermione headed for her bedroom, removing her purchases from her pocket and stashing them away until she had the opportunity to correctly store and sort them later. She stripped off her clothes and jumped in the shower, taking longer than she usually would as she took comfort in the hot water helping to ease the aches and tension in her body. After drying and dressing in an old Quidditch jersey once belonging to George, and a pair of shorts she'd stolen from Ginny years ago, she fitted her feet into her slippers and took her leave from her room, returning to the living area.

Much to her surprise, she heard heavy footsteps and metal clinking and it all became too obvious as to the reasoning when a suit of red and gold filled her vision. She halted to a stop, staring dumbly and silently as the metal face plate opened, revealing a very unhappy Tony Stark. She had only seen him in his suit once before and it had been on the rooftop, not inside the penthouse. The red and gold certainly stood out in the space.

"Where the hell were you?" Tony demanded. She was rooted to the spot, his footsteps growing louder and heavier as he approached her. "I woke up and you were gone. I thought you'd come back but you never did. Jarvis couldn't find you and I've been looking for you for hours."

He'd been out searching for her, Hermione surmised. He'd been literally flying around Manhattan in hopes of finding her. Amongst the myriad of emotions and feelings currently taking up home in her stomach, chest and head, she felt guilt among them.

Hermione closed her mouth, not realising it had parted in surprise in the first place, and she swallowed and cleared her throat, folding her arms over her chest defensively and shifting on her feet. Seeing this, the anger in Tony's expression faded somewhat and he halted to a stop before her.

"Where were you?" He repeated, a little calmer this time, although it was clear he was still unhappy with her. "I've been flying around looking for you for hours."

Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall, noting it was almost eight o'clock at night. She hadn't realised she'd been gone for so long. She knew it had grown dark and she'd been gone most of the day, but she hadn't realised that almost fifteen hours had passed since she'd left that morning.

"I was in my world," she admitted, her voice not as strong as she'd have liked it to be. "It's why you couldn't find me and Jarvis couldn't track me. I hadn't realised the time or that I'd been gone for so long. I am sorry for worrying you. Once George left after collecting Fred, I needed some fresh air and time alone. I hadn't intended to cross into my world but I found myself there and whilst I was, I took the opportunity to stock up on some supplies."

Tony's dark eyes searched her expression closely and he was still not happy with her but he nodded, not pushing the matter further.

"Have you eaten?"

"Yes," she nodded. He narrowed his eyes, not believing her. "I've eaten, I promise," she vowed softly. "Have you?" She returned to question and he nodded.

Silence fell and for the first time since meeting Tony, she felt awkward in his presence. Her eyes darted between the floor and a spot over his shoulder, feeling uncomfortable with any form of eye contact.

She heard Tony sigh and when she lifted her gaze, he turned his back to her and headed for the roof, presumably to rid of his Iron Man armour. She forced herself to move from her spot, moving to take a seat on the couch, her fingers twisting into the red and gold fabric of the Quidditch jersey.

When Tony returned no longer wearing his Iron Man suit, he took a seat beside her, the atmosphere in the room growing to be rather uncomfortable and tense. She didn't like it, hated it, in fact. It was one of the things she was most afraid of should she take Tony seriously and they entered into a relationship. The ease and comfort they shared with one another was one of the things she loved the most about their friendship.

He cleared his throat and shifted to get more comfortable and sensing he was gearing up to ask her a question she wasn't yet ready to answer, she interrupted.

"Not yet, Tony," she voiced in a little above a whisper. "I'm not ready."

She felt his eyes on her, she didn't need to be looking in his direction to know that he was looking at her, willing her to look at him too and give him answers. She knew she was being unfair to him but she wasn't ready and she needed more time.

She knew she had taken him off guard when she shuffled backwards further onto the couch and she pulled her legs up, leaning to the left until she was able to cuddle into Tony's side. Hermione's cheek pressed against Tony's chest, the blue glow of his arc reactor breaking through the material of his cotton t-shirt and bathing her face in the light. He shifted once more, altering his posture and slouching a little more, his arm moving to slot around her waist and hold her to him gently.

"I need more time."

She heard him sigh before his head tipped forward and his chin rested against the top of her head.

Silence reigned and time passed slowly, Hermione allowing the steady and rhythmic beating of Tony's heart to calm and soothe her, hearing the strong thumps in her ear and feeling it against her cheek. It was so soothing in fact, that she almost dozed off, and she most likely would have had Tony not muttered to her that he was dying to use the toilet. Those were the first words he'd spoken to her for some time and it almost made her laugh.

Reluctantly, she drew away from him and straightened her posture. She felt his eyes on her until she was no longer in his line of sight and whilst he was gone, she stood from the couch and journeyed to the kitchen, pulling two wine glasses from the cupboard and removing a bottle of her favourite elf wine from the built-in wine bar. Tony much preferred whiskey, scotch and bourbon as opposed to wine; he had the wine bar stocked mostly with her in mind and although she wasn't much of a drinker, she'd still slipped a couple of bottles of elf wine into the collection, knowing that even if Tony were to pull one from the bar he wouldn't know the difference between muggle and elf wine.

She pulled the cork free and poured a measure of the dark red liquid into her glass before taking a sip, savouring the burst of the fruity flavour against her tongue. The reason she preferred elf wine was that it didn't much taste like alcohol, and in that regard, it made it dangerous. It was quite easy to forget the alcohol percentage and it was the reason most witches preferred it over fire whiskey. It was also the reason that wizarding folk tended to have a slightly higher tolerance to alcohol than muggles did. Their alcohol percentage was almost double that of muggle alcohol.

She heard Tony's return and feeling his eyes on her, she slowly turned around and leaned back into the counter behind her, lifting the wine glass to her lips and taking another sip, her eyes meeting his. Silently, she grabbed the bottle and the second wine glass and she crossed to the couch, placing both items on the coffee table before taking her seat, still yet to relinquish her own drink.

Tony followed her lead and retook his seat, leaning back into the cushions and twisting slightly to face her.

"How are you feeling?" He asked after a pause of silence.

"Confused and conflicted," Hermione confessed, giving a shrug with only one shoulder.

"That's my fault," he commented. "I never meant for that to happen."

She shrugged again, taking another sip of her wine.

"George wants me to tell you the truth," she admitted. Tony had been in the process of reaching for the wine bottle and empty glass but at her words, his head and eyes snapped to her. "About everything."

"I told you, Poppins, I don't care if I never learn the secret behind your abilities..."

"I was always going to tell you, Tony," she interrupted, being reminded of their conversation that had started it all off in the first place and she wasn't ready to discuss that just yet. "I just wanted to ease you into it. I know from experience that it can be quite jarring and overwhelming at first and I wished to avoid that. And I imagine that you would have a million questions. By slowly revealing certain aspects to you, I was hoping to relieve some of your initial surprise. To be honest, I'm tired, Tony. I'm tired of having to hide and sensor my actions and words around you. And should you know the truth, it would make things a lot easier and I imagine, it would explain a lot of things and put things into perspective for you, particularly regarding some of my habits and behaviour."

"Meaning?" He prompted.

She sighed and downed the last of her wine before reaching for the bottle and refilling her glass, pouring some of the dark red beverage into the other glass for Tony. He arched an eyebrow at the action, his mouth twitching in amusement when she took a hearty swig from her glass.

"Liquid courage," she grumbled in reply to his unasked question.

She shifted on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her and turning to face him, her arm on the back of the couch with her hand propping her head up and she held her wine glass in her other hand. Seeing this, Tony reached for his glass and took a healthy sip, both of his eyebrows shifting upwards at the flavour.

"That's different," he remarked.

"Elf wine," she shrugged in response, taking another sip from her own glass.

"Excuse me? Elf wine? As in elves?"

Hermione snorted into her glass, this line of conversation and Tony's surprise was familiar to her. Familiar and comforting, and the elf wine was certainly helping to soothe her frazzled nerves.

"Yes, as in elves," she confirmed.

Tony's brow furrowed, his calculating gaze moving between her and his glass of wine.

"Are you hinting that Santa's real?"

Hermione mouth twitched. "No, I wasn't hinting at anything, merely stating a fact. But as you broached the subject, yes, Saint Claus is real."

"Fuck off!" He exclaimed. Hermione tried but she was unable to fight off the snigger. "No, I don't believe you. You're not taking this genius on a wild goose chase. Not a chance in Hell."

"He is," she argued.

"Nah, nope, non, nein, nyet, nei, I don't care what language you wish to hear it in but no, he's not. Ghosts? Fair enough, I'll admit there's no scientific proof either way. And owls-turned-mail-men? Fine, carrier pigeons were a thing back in the day. Vampires and werewolves? I suppose it's possible with all the weird experiments happening and there could be gene mutations and defects that alter behaviours and appearances. I'll even admit to believing you regarding ogres and dragons, because, why the hell not? Dinosaurs exist and dragons are similar. But if you expect me to believe that good old jolly Saint Nick is real, then you're nuttier than a Snickers. Nice try but you're going to have to work harder to fool this genius."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

"I'm telling the truth, Tony. Santa Claus is real."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "The Tooth Fairy?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"The Abominable Snowman?"

"Yes."

"Bigfoot?"

"Yes."

"Oh come on," he scoffed, "Now I know you're messing with me," he accused. She looked him dead in the eye, her expression serious and unmoving. "Fuck's sake," Tony grumbled in defeat. "The Easter Bunny?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Hermione rolled her eyes and sipped at her wine.

"Ha!" He called victoriously.

"But the Loch Ness Monster is," she added.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," Tony grouched and slouched slightly.

"To be honest, I'm not certain about that one," Hermione offered lightly. "There's not much religion in my community, or at least, they don't follow the faiths and religions present in this world. And, I myself, am not religious. Whether he or God are real is just as much a mystery to me as it is to everyone else. Though I suppose it is a matter of belief. If a person believes they are real, then they are real to them and nothing can convince them otherwise."

"That same logic can be applied to you believing that ghosts and dragons are real," he argued.

Hermione smiled knowingly. "I suppose," she agreed, "However, I have proof they are real. I have seen them and they have been present in my world for a very long time. We keep them from crossing over into the Muggle World in order to keep you all safe. We have the ability and means to guard, protect and defend against them. You don't."

"You're giving me a headache," Tony complained.

"It's only going to get worse," Hermione promised.

Tony eyed her when she took another sip from her wine, noting there was only one mouthful left before the glass would be empty. She wasn't much of a drink (although he admitted she had drunk more in the last few weeks than he'd seen) and although she seemed to be quite sober still, he was unsure if she planned to remain that way, especially since she was drinking quicker than he'd seen her.

Hermione's eyes closed briefly and she inhaled deeply, seeming to gather herself. She drank the remainder of her drink before she set the glass aside on the table and then looked to him once more.

"The truth is..." She began but paused, hesitating. She shook her head before sighing. Tony, sensing things were about to get serious, set his own wine aside and gave her his full attention. "The truth is, Tony, that I've told you what I am before. Several times in fact, but you never believed me and always thought I was joking."

Tony's gaze scanned her face, his head tipping to the side in thought.

"I had thought you'd figure it out on your own, I mean, although I am careful with my words and actions, there are quite a few giveaways."

"Such as?" Tony prompted.

"I use cauldrons. I've threatened you with hexes, I use odd ingredients in my experiments, the abilities you already know I possess..."

Tony blinked, appearing to be quite puzzled by her words.

How could a genius be so dense?

"Tony," she sighed, "I'm a witch."

She held her breath as Tony gave slow and measured blinks before he shook his head, a laugh leaving him.

"That's the worst one yet. You almost had me."

"I'm not lying."

"Sure you're not," he rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Whilst you were out, did you fall and bump your head? You did, didn't you?"

Hermione heaved out a heavy sigh before she pushed herself to her feet, withdrew her wand from beneath her sleeve and without a word, she spun on her heel, disappearing from view with a loud crack. She reappeared moments later on the staircase, Hermione hearing Tony's comical shriek of surprise as he twisted to peer over his shoulder to see her on the other side of the penthouse in a literal blink of an eye. Silently, she spun once more, appearing in front of him with the coffee table separating them and he was visibly startled, his body actually leaving the couch for a moment. She bit back her laugh.

"But...How did you...What the fuck?"

"Accio wine glass," she said, directing her wand towards her empty glass and it lifted from the table and soared over to her outstretched hand. She folded her fingers around the stem in order not to drop it, and then she pointed her wand inside the glass, saying, "Aguamenti," and a jet of water streamed from her wand, filling the glass before she cancelled the spell.

Hermione silently drank all of the liquid before setting the empty glass back on the table. "Wingardium Leviosa," she muttered, deliberately levitating the coffee table, allowing it to rise above Tony's height before she lowered it to the ground. And for her final display, she removed her slipper and aimed her wand at it, saying, "Avifors," transfiguring it into a beautiful dove that took flight in the room and soared above their heads.

Once it had done a few laps of the room, Hermione countered the spell and slipped her foot back into her slipper before she retook her seat, hid her wand back up her sleeve and reached for the wine bottle, pouring herself another glass before topping up Tony's with the remainder of the bottle until it was empty.

She sank back into the cushions, sipping at her drink and eyeing Tony over the rim of her glass. He stared at her blankly, his eyes and mouth physically parted, rather, his jaw almost seemed to be glued to the ground. She remained silent, allowing him the space and time to process her reveal. It was Sally who brought him back to reality when she jumped onto the couch and laid down beside him, her tail swishing back and forth and catching his arm.

He snapped his mouth shut and swallowed before it opened again, no words or sound leaving him. She didn't know whether to be amused or concerned when he reached for his wine and downed the full glass in one go, setting it back on the table with such force, it was a wonder it didn't shatter.

He exhaled a slow, steady breath. "Right, a witch?"

"Yes, a witch," she confirmed with a sharp nod.

"And your community and people?"

"Witches and wizards. This is the Muggle World or No-Majs as the American Community calls it. My community is called the Wizarding World."

"So your family?"

"All witches and wizards," she explained. "Even the children, although, some of them are not yet old enough to or have not yet started showing signs of magic."

"Magic," he echoed, breathing the word out slowly. He reached for her glass of wine and without asking, he removed it from her grasp, downing the rest of it before setting the glass aside, too.

She supposed she'd literally just turned his world upside down. He was a scientist and inventor and to him, magic was nothing but illusions and parlour tricks. To him, true magic did not exist. It was the reason she'd chosen to show him the things she had. She'd shown him things that he wouldn't be able to explain away, disprove or argue against.

"As you know, my parents didn't have magic but I do, Harry is a Half-blood, and the Weasleys are Purebloods. They come from a long line of magic users; they're a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"And what's that?"

"The Sacred Twenty-Eight are the oldest magical families in Britain. So old, they are said to be the first settlers in Britain and they helped to shape and build the Wizarding World as it is now. The reason we live separate from the muggles is largely down to the Witch Trials. Magic users once lived amongst muggles but once they turned on us, believing us to be devil worshippers, which we are not, I might add, we retreated for our safety and the existence of magic was wiped from the world. The Statute of Secrecy was brought into effect to prevent us from being exposed. And only five percent of wizarding folk were correctly identified and killed, the remainder were muggles. We've remained hidden ever since and to be honest, I don't think we ever will reintegrate in muggle society."

"The Wizarding World is wary of muggles and they know that they are safe and they would rather not have history repeat itself. It is better that we continue to live our separate lives, the muggles oblivious to the truth. As you might imagine, there are a select few that know the truth. The Queen of England, the American and Russian President, Kings and Queens and other leaders and government officials of the world. They work together with our own leaders to keep magic a secret, and they employ our people as politicians and protectors."

Tony fell silent for a moment before he shook his head and his eyes locked with hers.

"I have questions."

Her mouth pulled into a smile. "I presumed you would. Now can you see my reasoning as to wanting to ease you into this?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Is Santa really real?"

"He is," Hermione promised. "Think about it," she suggested, "A man that has an endless sack of presents, with a sleigh and flying reindeer that are able to travel around the world in a single day? Only magic is capable of that."

"Fucking Hell," he grumbled, rubbing both of his hands over his face and then dragging them through his hair. "You can..." He paused, seeming to search for the correct word. "Teleport?" He settled for and his eyes moved to the staircase and then back to her.

"I can, yes. We call it apparition," she explained. "Just like how you need a licence to drive, we need a licence to apparate, and we must be over the age of seventeen to do so. We have several modes of transport. Apparition is used for short-distance travel and port-keys are used for long-distance travel, which is how George was able to go between here and England so quickly. We are also able to move between locations through the use of a fireplace, which is called flooing, we use trains and..."

"And?" He encouraged her to continue with an arched eyebrow.

She sighed, bracing herself for his reaction. "Brooms."

"Brooms?" He echoed.

"Brooms," she nodded. "We fly on brooms. Well, I say we, I hate it. I never had the talent for it. Remember when I told you that you were missing a key factor about Quidditch? This is it, the sport is so dangerous and difficult because all of the players are on brooms and it takes place hundreds of feet above the ground. It's why Fred said George could fly."

His laughter burst from him and she scowled, unhappily pursing her lips.

"God, do you have pointy hats and toads, too?"

Her scowl deepened and upon seeing this, he laughed louder.

"I'll have you know, those are stereotypes. Whilst we do have pointed hats, they are mostly worn by the older and more traditional witches, and they are worn by children in school during important holidays and events, most notably the first day of school at the Welcoming and Sorting Feast and Halloween. As for toads, we are able to turn people and things into toads, but again, that's stereotypical and some wizarding folk have toads as familiars, others might have cats, owls and rats."

"Hang on," Tony sobered, glancing her way. "School?" He tipped his head, comprehension seemed to dawn on him. "This school that you went to, it was a school of magic?"

"It was. Children attend between the ages of eleven and eighteen, where we are taught to hone and control our magic."

Tony's eyes lowered and moved to his left, finding a piercing blue gaze staring back up at him before his gaze moved back to her.

"Sally's your familiar, isn't she?" He said knowingly.

She smiled a little. "Yes. Not all witches and wizards have a familiar, but their purpose is to guide us and protect us. I had a familiar in school, a cat named Crookshanks. He was the devil incarnated," she laughed a little, thinking back on her familiar fondly. "He only seemed to like me and attacked or hissed at everyone else. He was quite protective of me. Unfortunately, he died whilst I was still a teenager."

Tony glanced at her cat once more. "She's not a regular cat," he stated confidently.

Hermione nodded. "Not quite, no. She's half Kneazle. A Kneazle is a magical creature that is similar to cats. They are highly intelligent and individual beings, and they have the ability to detect untrustworthy people. Although to be honest, no one knows the true extent of their abilities, which is why when you ask me how Sally is able to do the things she does, I genuinely don't know. For all I know, it's a Kneazle thing. And because she likes you so much, I know she trusts you, which makes it easier for me to trust you."

"And this conductor?"

Her mouth twitched. "Wand," she corrected. Tony rolled his eyes, because of course she had a wand. Hermione drew her wand from beneath her sleeve and held it out to him in an offering. He almost snatched it from her in his haste to get a closer look.

"It looks like a stick," he remarked.

"Don't be fooled, Tony. That is an extremely powerful weapon in my hands. It will not react to you as you don't have magic. Should another magic user hold it, it will warn them off."

"Why?"

"The wand chooses the wizard," she shrugged. "It's hard to explain, I don't rightfully understand myself," she admitted. "Wand lore and wand making is an extremely complicated bit of magic, one that takes decades to learn and master, and it is a profession that is generally kept within wand-making families. All you need to know is that wands are semi-sentient. They are magical objects that can sometimes have a mind of their own and for a lack of a better term, are alive. Wands can be made from different woods and they have different cores, and this factors into the behaviour of the wand."

"And that means?"

"My wand is made from vine wood and it has a dragon heartstring core. Vine wood is a less commonly used material for wands, but it is said that they are better suited for magic users that seek a greater purpose and who have visions beyond the ordinary. As for the dragon heartstring, they produce wands with the greatest magical power and they learn spells more quickly compared to other cores. They are also most prone to accidental outbursts and can be quite temperamental."

Tony snorted, giving her a knowing look which she chose to ignore.

"Dragon heartstring core wands are also exceptionally loyal. Whilst a magical user's wand's allegiance may be won by another, it will only ever truly be loyal to its original master. Ollivander told me that he made my wand in the 60s and before it chose me, it had been held by two-hundred and twenty-three other magic users."

"I'm disappointed," he admitted. Hermione cocked a questioning eyebrow. "I was expecting more sparkle and glitter," he said as he gave her wand an overly exaggerated swish, only for nothing to happen.

Hermione scowled at him before she snatched her wand back and slipped it up her sleeve, out of reach.

"Fairy wands are not real. In fact, witches and wizards are the only magical beings to have and use wands. Fairies, pixies, elves... They all have their own forms of magic."

"I still have a lot of questions."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't," Hermione replied. "You're taking this all remarkably well," she complimented.

"Give it time to properly sink in, then I'll pass out," he told her and she snorted. "Why do you have a military medal?"

Hermione inhaled a sharp breath and her hand gripped the back of the couch tightly. The atmosphere in the room suddenly plummeted and Tony felt it.

"How do you know that?" Was her response.

"I may have snooped through your coat pocket in London and found the challenge coin," he admitted. "Not recognising it, I had Jarvis run a search which lead me to the Victoria Cross, and once I had Jarvis hack the royal database, I discovered that both you and Potter were a recipient. So why do you have a war medal?"

Hermione gritted her teeth and her eyes shut tightly before she forced herself to relax and push the memories to the back of her mind.

"Two."

"What?"

"Two. I have two medals," she corrected. Tony tipped his head, encouraging her to continue. "It's true, I do have a Victoria Cross that was awarded to me in 1998, and I also have an Order of Merlin: First Class, which is a medal given in my world."

"For?" Tony prompted.

Hermione dragged a hand through her hair and sighed before she stood from the couch and headed for the kitchen, pulling another bottle of elf wine free from the bar. She'd already opened the bottle and taken a hearty swig before she'd retaken her seat and this time, she forewent the glass; just grasping the bottle with such a tight grip, it was as if her life was dependent on it.

"This is the part I didn't wish to initially tell you but I know I must. This is where you understand where my habits and behaviours and trauma was instilled."

She took another swig from the bottle and Tony eyed her warily.

"Don't do it."

"Do what?"

"Whatever it was you did last time when you told me about your capture," Tony clarified. "I know you said it helps, but I can't go through that again."

"If I don't..."

"We'll deal with it," Tony interrupted, not giving her the opportunity to argue.

Hermione took another swig from the bottle and her eyes lowered, locking on the ground. She felt the shift of the couch cushions as Tony moved closer to her.

"Harry, Ron and I, although we were best friends through school, we didn't start out that way; it wasn't until Halloween our first year that I found myself trapped in the girl's bathroom with a rampaging troll." She glanced up at him, seeing both of his eyebrows high on his forehead. It almost made her smile. "They rescued me and from that point, we became inseparable. We were referred to as the Golden Trio. No matter what we did or where we went, trouble always seemed to follow or find us."

"During the 80s, there was a powerful and charismatic man by the name of Tom Riddle who believed Muggleborns did not deserve to have their magic and he was a supporter of Pureblood Supremacy. I find it ironic the prick was a Half-blood, although he was the Heir of Slytherin. Slytherin was an incredibly powerful wizard and one of the four founders of Hogwarts a thousand years ago. He gathered a following of Purebloods and grew his power and efforts to rid Wizarding Britain of Muggleborns and take control. Albus Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards our world had seen for a long time and he was most known for defeating a dark wizard in the 40's, one that wished to dissolve the Statue of Secrecy and rule over muggles. Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts when we attended school and he was the only person Riddle feared. In order to prevent Riddle from succeeding, Dumbledore forged his own army, the Order of Phoenix, and they were dedicated to protecting the innocent and thwarting Riddle."

Hermione swigged from the bottle once more.

"As difficult as you may find it to believe there are forms of magic that allow one to see or interpret the future, and there are such things as prophecies that are given by Seers, although it is rare to find a legitimate one. Riddle learned of a prophecy that foretold his downfall and it would come at the hands of a young boy. Harry's family were members of the Order and they were forced into hiding but they had a spy in their ranks, one they believed to be a good friend and as a result, Riddle found them. Harry's mother and father were killed and when Riddle turned his wand on Harry, his attempt to kill him backfired. Harry, not even one year old, survived and Riddle was defeated. Harry was put into the custody of his muggle relatives and the First War was won."

"First War?" Tony picked up on. She could feel his eyes on her but she couldn't lift her eyes from the floor.

"Yes. Like I said, once we became friends, trouble always seemed to follow us where we went. Riddle was not dead as people believed, he was simply biding his time and plotting to return to his full power. When he turned his wand on Harry and Harry survived, he was marked as Riddle's equal. The prophecy stated that neither could survive whilst the other lived. One of them had to die. Four years we spent jumping headfirst into danger, derailing his plans and fighting him off but Riddle returned to full power at the end of our fourth year. No one believed Harry or Dumbledore, they all thought we were lying. Dumbledore worked to bring back the Order to take him down once more. By the end of our fifth year, we found ourselves in a trap at the Ministry. Riddle's followers were known as Death Eaters and we fought and duelled. That night, Harry lost his Godfather and I almost died."

Her free hand automatically moved to press against the centre of her chest and she felt herself wince, despite it being painless.

"Dumbledore and the Order arrived to help us, and at that point, the world had no option but to admit we were telling the truth. By the end of our sixth year, the Death Eaters infiltrated Hogwarts and we battled to protect the younger children and students and rid of them. Dumbledore was killed and Bill, the eldest Weasley son, was mauled by a werewolf. We almost lost him, too."

Hermione sighed and swigged from the bottle again. She knew she was worrying Tony but he'd asked her not to decompartmentalise, and at this point, drinking was all she had.

"The Death Eaters took control of Hogwarts and during the summer, we had to retrieve Harry from his muggle relatives and bring him back to the Weasleys safely. We had a plan but we had a spy and he tipped off the Death Eaters. They were waiting for us and Riddle himself made an appearance. That night, we lost a legendary Auror and respected Order member, and George lost his ear. Before Dumbledore's death, he issued Harry with a mission, one that would see an end to the war and Riddle. I can't say what it was exactly because we all made a vow never to speak of it again, but Riddle had dabbled in some dark nature-defying magic which made it extremely difficult to kill him. As a result, we were tasked with finding and destroying certain objects and Riddle couldn't be defeated until that was done."

"Once Harry had been retrieved, at Bill's wedding we were told that the Ministry had been infiltrated and Riddle had taken control of the government, and the wedding reception was attacked by Death Eaters. Harry, Ron and I left for the mission. We were on the run for almost a year. We were frightened, starving, cold, angry, hopeless... We had no idea what we were doing but the outcome of the war was dependent on our success. Whilst we were on the run, we were captured." Her hand came up to her throat and she swallowed. "Which you already know about. We were able to escape but in the process, a good friend, an elf, died."

"Less than a week later, we infiltrated Hogwarts and took control away from the Death Eaters and we forced the Final Battle. It lasted for hours and there were too many fatalities to name. I saw things and did things I'm not proud of. We were able to find and destroy all of the objects, leaving Riddle vulnerable. But what we didn't know at the time was that Harry was one of the objects, too. Riddle had unintentionally made him one when he tried to kill him as a baby. Harry sacrificed himself and handed himself over to Riddle. He killed him."

She finally lifted her gaze, seeing his horrified yet confused expression. She knew why. Harry was alive, he'd met and spoken to him.

"There's a legend in my world. The Deathly Hallows. There's three of them; the Elder Wand, Invisibility Cloak and Resurrection Stone. If one possesses all three, they control Death. Through some clever manipulation, Dumbledore ensured that Harry would have all three and so when Riddle killed him at the Final Battle, not only did Harry control Death, but Riddle destroyed his own object. Harry came back to life and fought Riddle for a final time and he prevailed. The war was not over straight away, it took three hours to end the fighting and even longer to round up the Death Eaters. There are still fugitives to this day roaming free. Fred, George's twin, we lost him in the Final Battle. We lost students and friends we went to school with, professors and mentors, fellow Order members and comrades. The castle was in ruins and it took months to restore the damage, even with magic. And it took us weeks to get through all the funerals. Seeing as Harry, Ron and I were the three biggest players, and whilst on the run, we were the three most wanted people in the world, we received medals for our efforts. The same for the Victoria Cross. Riddle wasn't just targeting those in the Wizarding World, he ventured out over here too and harmed muggles. You most likely heard about the terrorist attacks in '97, in Paris, Rome, London and Lisbon. Those were him."

She swigged from the bottle once more but it was starting to make her feel sick and so she set it on the table. It wasn't until she moved that she realised Tony's hands were cradling her face, and it wasn't until his thumbs swiped across her cheeks that she realised she'd been crying.

"Do you understand now?"

"I do," he muttered and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut. "I understand more than I thought I would. And although I'm sure you only told me the bare minimum and you left plenty out, I do appreciate you telling me the truth."

"Fifty-eight."

"What?"

She swallowed thickly. "Fifty-eight," she repeated. "I took fifty-eight lives, that I know of. Most likely more. There were too many ricocheting spells and curses to be sure who killed whom. But I have fifty-eight confirmed kills, and not all of them were witches and wizards; there were some werewolves, vampires and giants, too."

"Hold the fuck up!" Tony drew back from her but his hands remained on her cheeks. "Giants!"

Despite herself, she felt her mouth twitch. She suspected he'd done it on purpose, knowing she always found his reaction of denial amusing. He was trying to offer comfort by making her feel better.

"Giants," she confirmed. "I know one personally, Grawp. He took a liking to me when I was sixteen."

Tony gave his head a slight shake before his expression grew serious.

"You did what you had to do. There are always casualties in war. It's not your fault you were more skilled than they were. You prevailed because you were stronger and smarter. The lives you took, you did so in defence of yourself and others."

"They were rapists, murderers, torturers, criminals. They harmed men, women and children no matter their ages or classification, and despite knowing that, despite knowing they were monsters and it would be easier if they were dead rather than rotting in prison, it's still hard to know that I am the reason they are no longer alive."

"Yes, but imagine the amount of people you saved because you did what you did. You took a life but you may have saved five, ten, fifty, maybe more."

She sighed and closed her eyes. There was no point in arguing further. He would always be adamant that she'd done nothing wrong, and she would argue otherwise. Her eyes opened when she felt Tony press a kiss to her forehead and he pulled her into a hug. Hermione buried her face in his chest and the fabric of his t-shirt bunched in her hands.

"Is that everything?" Tony muttered but in the silence that surrounded them, it may as well have been shouted.

She felt herself stiffen.

"I'll take that as a no."

"George wants me to tell you my secret. Everyone in my world knows about the war and the role I played. They may not know the specifics or certain aspects such as my capture and torture, but they know who I am and what I did. There is a secret I have, one only George knows and it doesn't pertain to the war. It happened much later."

"The reason behind the anniversary," Tony assumed.

"Yes," she whispered, feeling her throat constrict painfully and she fought off a fresh wave of tears. She'd told him about the war, but she wasn't certain she could reveal her secret, too.

She drew back from him despite feeling his reluctance to let her go and she stood to her feet, and before she knew it, she was pacing back and forth and tugging at her hair.

"Whatever it is, it won't change how I feel about you. And neither does discovering you're a witch."

Hermione paused in her steps and her wide eyes looked to him in surprise at his words.

How he feels about her?

"You are an incredible woman. You are kind and compassionate, brave and strong, loving and smart, fearless and considerate. Your magic is a part of you but it does not define you, nor does it factor into your personality."

"But you don't know everything, Tony," she tried to dissuade him.

"I know all I need to know."

"Not everything," she disagreed.

"Then tell me," he encouraged. "Whatever this secret is..."

"It's worse than my being a witch." She felt a tear break free.

"Why?"

Hermione wiped at her eyes before she moved towards the kitchen, needing to put some distance between them and unable to take his penetrating and understanding gaze any longer. Unfortunately, Tony had other ideas and he followed her. As she reached the kitchen island and breakfast bar, his hand circled her wrist and he gave a gentle tug, pulling her to a stop and turning her to face him.

"What did I say to you?"

"What?" She refused to look at him.

"You know what. What did I say to you?" He repeated.

His hand came up to her chin and tipped her head back until their gazes locked, his eyes boring into hers and seeing the sadness and pain and hope and the unshed tears that swam through them.

"What did I say?" He asked once more. "Don't lie to me and don't say it didn't matter because it does. It matters to me."

She inhaled deeply and he pressed his forehead to hers.

"You told me..." She paused, not being sure if she was able to voice those words.

"I told you?" He prompted.

"You were drunk," she shook her head and tried to draw back but he released her wrist only to slot his arm around her and hold her tighter, refusing to let her go.

"I was but I still want to know what I said to you. I'd have asked Jarvis weeks ago only he doesn't record conversations in the bedrooms or bathrooms for privacy. Things have been weird between us since and I want to know why. I deserve to know what it is I did wrong that upset you so much."

"You did nothing wrong, Tony."

"Great, then tell me what I said."

She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes.

She was a Gryffindor was she not? It was something she had to keep reminding herself as of late, but as the familiar red and gold colouring of her beloved house flittered through her mind, she found her thoughts being drawn to Iron Man. To Tony. Why did his suit have to adorn the colours that she loved so much?

She could feel his dark gaze on her, almost as if he were trying to see through her closed eyelids in order to see her own chocolate orbs.

"You told me you loved me."