Archive of Our Own

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UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

(let's be real- it's just in the basement of the Avenger's Tower)

Well this was awkward...

Harry looked around the room unimpressed. It was made up of white and steel and lacked the embellishment needed nowadays to make him fearful. Harry didn't want to be disrespectful to those holding him captive and was kind enough not to mention that Snape's Potions Lab was more terrifying than all of this.

Harry let out another pitiful sigh. He was so bored, he'd been here forever.

"Let's go through this one more time." The bland-looking man—call me Agent Coulson, standing in front of where Harry sat, handcuffed to the steel interrogation table—gave an almost unnoticeable twitch of his left eye. Harry had been getting quite a lot of those out of this man. "What's your name?"

"What's your name?" Harry asked back.

"I already told you my name was Agent Coulson as an act of goodwill. Now, I'm asking the questions."

"Well, obviously you're not considering I just asked a question."

"Just answer my question," Coulson reiterated. Harry looked at him blankly.

"Which question?"

"Any. You can answer any of my questions. Perhaps starting with how you got here."

"Um, you guys handcuffed me and escorted me to this room? That's a shit question, mate, you were here with me when it happened." Harry sucked in air between his teeth.

"Young man, this is serious. You have been caught doing numerous illegal activities. I would take this interrogation with more dignity if I were you."

"Look, Mr Agent," Harry drawled, another of those lovely twitches coming out from his nickname, "I don't know what you and your unreasonably attractive associates think I've done," he shuffled slightly to the right so that he could make approximate eye-contact with the two people standing behind the glass and wink, "but I haven't done anything illegal." He finished, settling back in his seat.

"Breaking and entering is very much so," Mr Agent retorted, leaning onto the table with his fingertips and generally making Harry slightly cagey at someone being so close.

Harry lifted up his right hand as much as the handcuffs allowed him to, "Okay well, firstly, it's not breaking and entering if the nice lady told you to go there."

"Ah yes, the 'red-head who looks like she could kill you with stilettos and take over the world in an hour'?" Coulson clarified.

Harry nodded, his shoulder-length hair getting in his eyes as he did so; Sirius had pouted when Remus suggested they cut it, stating that he looked like a mini-him and Harry had agreed as it hadn't really acted as much as a reminder of the place where it had been allowed to grow into such a state. Honestly, he thought it was pretty cool to have something which made Sirius and him look more like a family.

"She was really cool, reminded me a bit of my friend," he said, grinning, reminiscing about all the times he'd been threatened violently for moving something out of place, often when Harry had been looking for his glasses.

The Agent hummed under his breath. "Agent Romanoff, could you please enter the room?" he said, raising his voice slightly so he could be heard.

Mr Agent stepped back slightly and folded his hands in front of him as a woman with red hair and a slightly dangerous aura entered. She gave him a cold stare and Harry raised his eyebrows in response. Don't get him wrong, she was definitely a threat, but she had a handler, she had to be controlled. Harry had nothing to lose.

"Is this the woman who told you to enter the Avengers' common room?" Mr Agent, the Handler in question, said, with that annoyingly smooth voice of his.

"No?" Harry said incredulously. "I've never met her in my life."

Coulson went very still, the kind of stillness that suggested he was re-evaluating not only the situation but every decision that had led him to be standing in this room with a handcuffed teenager who was, quite frankly, enjoying himself far too much.

"Interesting," he said slowly, tapping his fingers once against the table before straightening, "because you described her with alarming accuracy for someone who has never seen her before."

Harry tilted his head, as if considering the point with far more seriousness than he actually felt.

"Well, statistically speaking, there are only so many ways to describe someone who looks like she could kill you efficiently," he said lightly, shrugging one shoulder as far as the cuffs would allow, "and I do like to be thorough in my observational skills. It’s a hobby of mine, really, along with being charming and apparently committing crimes I haven't actually committed."

"Observation implies prior exposure," Coulson pressed, voice flattening again as he leaned forward just slightly, enough to invade space without quite crossing into overt intimidation.

"Or imagination," Harry countered immediately, entirely unbothered, "you'd be amazed what you can come up with when you're bored, which, coincidentally, I have been for the last—" he glanced at the ceiling as if there might be a clock there, "—however long you've decided to keep me here instead of, I don't know, offering snacks or at least a more engaging line of questioning."

"You broke into a restricted floor of a highly secured building," Coulson said, patience thinning at the edges, "and you are currently handcuffed to a table in an interrogation room, and your primary concern is the quality of the questions?"

Harry gave him a look that suggested the answer should have been obvious.

"Well, yes," he said simply, "if I'm going to be falsely accused of something, I'd at least like the conversation to be interesting, otherwise this is just detention with worse lighting and significantly fewer biscuits."

There was a pause, during which Coulson blinked once, slowly, as if recalibrating.

"Perhaps," Coulson said, voice tight with restraint, "you would like to explain how you bypassed security."

Harry perked up slightly.

"Oh, that’s a better question," he said approvingly, before pausing again, dragging the moment out with deliberate precision, "except I didn't bypass anything."

Coulson’s eye twitched again.

"You were found inside the Avengers’ common room," he said, enunciating each word carefully.

"Yes," Harry agreed.

"Which you are not authorised to access."

"Allegedly."

"-which you are not authorised to access," Coulson repeated, ignoring the interruption, "and yet you are claiming you were told to go there by someone who does not exist within this context."

Harry considered that.

"Okay, first of all," he said, shifting slightly in his chair, chains clinking softly, "she definitely exists—bit rude of you to imply otherwise—and secondly, I never said she was authorised, just that she told me to go there, which are, you know, two very different things if we're being precise about language, which I assume we are, given this is an interrogation and not, say, a casual chat over tea."

Natasha, from where she stood, let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh if it had been allowed to fully form.

Coulson did not look at her.

"Names," he said. "Give me a name."

Harry smiled.

"Yours or mine?"

The room went silent, the Agent and her Handler both slightly stumped at what to do.

When Phil first met the kid, he'd been standing in a corner of the common room. The Avengers' common room. That would raise an eyebrow but could be excused as a child on a school tour getting lost or one of Peter's friends. This wouldn't be cause for the reaction they'd had, except Clint and Phil had recognised the soldier's stance the kid held.

Someone who stood in such a way, along with him constantly looking around the room, as if he was waiting to get in trouble, did not make a good image. Combined with the issue of the kid seemingly describing Natasha—when she hadn't been in the building all day—did not bode well. Of course, Clint had signed Friday to take a picture of the kid and send it to Nat, asking if she'd seen him before because Clint was not risking pissing off a guest of Nat and she did have an odd habit of adopting dangerous things. She hadn't.

And okay, maybe the handcuffs weren't necessary to detain what looked like a fourteen-year-old—but he was such a little shit.

Before either adult could take another breath, Mrs Pepper Potts burst into the room looking panicked, and that in itself was enough to shift the atmosphere from controlled irritation to something far sharper, because Pepper did not panic, she assessed, she calculated, she solved, and so the fact that she had clearly run here without taking the time to smooth herself into composure told everyone in the room that something had already gone very, very wrong.

"Would either of you two like to explain why Friday told me my guest was currently being held in an interrogation room?" she said, voice tight with restrained fury, tapping her heel in a rhythm that was just shy of impatient and just short of dangerous, the sound echoing too loudly in the sterile space and making even the terrifying Black Widow take a subtle step behind her Handler, which was, frankly, alarming for entirely different reasons.

Silence reigned in the room, heavy and immediate, whilst the sixteen-year-old boy gave a smirk which for some reason reminded everyone of someone they just couldn't quite place, something about the tilt of it, the confidence, the complete and utter lack of concern for the situation he was in, like he had already decided this was all beneath him and was simply waiting for the adults to catch up.

"That's the scary lady," the boy deadpanned, not even bothering to lower his voice, as if the tension in the room was something to be observed rather than participated in.

Behind the mirror, Agent Barton started to back away slowly, inch by inch towards the door with the kind of careful retreat that suggested survival instinct rather than cowardice, because the only thing worse than taking Natasha’s scary thing was taking Pepper’s, and Clint had made enough questionable life choices to know exactly where his limits were.

"You know him..." Phil realised, the words coming out slower than intended as the situation rearranged itself in his head, silently offering prayers up for pissing off the nicest person he knew, which was a particularly cruel twist of fate considering he had always relied on Pepper being the reasonable one.

"Very much so," she replied shortly, narrowing her eyes with a look that promised she'd find unnecessary paperwork for Phil to do and then personally ensure he completed every single page of it, and there was no missing the way her attention flicked briefly to the boy before returning to them, as if checking that he was still exactly where she expected him to be.

"But Pepper," Phil cleared his throat, turning his back from the boy to try and preserve some semblance of authority in front of their suspect, because the last thing he needed was for the kid to realise just how uncertain they suddenly were, "he was on the Avengers' floor," he said, looking imploringly at her, "only Avengers and family are allowed up there?" he added, confusion creeping in despite his attempt to remain composed, and then, because his brain had clearly decided to betray him at the worst possible moment, he was suddenly struck with the thought that, oh god, what if this kid comes from Make A Wish, oh shit, that would be catastrophic, absolutely catastrophic.

Pepper closed her eyes briefly, as if gathering patience, or perhaps deciding just how much damage control she was about to have to do and in what order she was going to do it, before opening them again with a steadiness that suggested she had already moved past panic and into strategy, which was, if anything, more concerning.

"Well, luckily for you, he is family," she said, and the word family did not come out easily, it came out measured, deliberate, like something she was still adjusting to herself, as if the concept had only recently been introduced and she had not yet decided where it fit within the careful structure of her life.

There was a pause, not a small one, but the kind that stretched just enough for everyone in the room to recognise that something significant had just been said without fully understanding the implications of it, like a puzzle piece placed down without the rest of the picture to give it meaning.

She called over her shoulders, "Clint, you might as well come in."

There was some muttered swearing behind the glass until the last Avenger present came into the room, looking like a man who would very much rather be anywhere else but had accepted his fate with the resignation of someone who had made too many bad decisions to start questioning them now, and the moment he stepped in, the space felt more crowded, more contained, like whatever was about to happen was now locked in.

When the three spies were assembled in front of her she took a deep breath, pressing her lips together for a moment as if she were about to step into a meeting she had not prepared for but would have to control regardless, her posture straightening, her expression smoothing into something composed but tight at the edges.

"This isn't exactly how I expected this to go, no one knows yet, including the most prominent parties," she huffed in disbelief, a faint note of frustration slipping through despite her control, "but three weeks ago, Mr Potter came into this building, requesting to see someone for a rather odd reason."

Her eyes flicked briefly to Harry, who was watching her with an expression that was far too calm for the situation, far too observant, as if he were cataloguing reactions rather than participating in them, before she continued.

"As per the procedure set in place, his DNA was taken and tested. Today, it came back positive."

That landed, but not fully, not yet, because there was still too much left unsaid, too many gaps for their minds to fill in with anything concrete.

"Mr Potter was in the common room to meet those his parent works with and maybe convince him of some things," she said, wringing her hands together, a small tell that would have gone unnoticed by most but not by the spies in the room who knew her well enough to recognise when something had unsettled her more than she was letting on.

Barton shot a curious look at the kid, whose parent's gender Pepper was obviously hiding, most definitely to make them all sweat, who sat with his feet now propped on the table, perfectly still, it was almost as if he were asleep were it not for his green eyes which stared at them all with sharp, unsettling awareness, like he was waiting for them to catch up to something he had already accepted.

"Whose kid is he?" he asked, because that was the question that mattered, the one that would reframe everything else.

Nat butted in, "convince him of what?" she asked, her head tilted, her gaze shifting between Pepper and Harry with increasing scrutiny, because there were layers here, and she did not like not knowing them.

Pepper glanced at Harry and back at them, and for a moment there was hesitation there, not uncertainty but calculation, as if she were choosing the exact phrasing that would cause the least immediate chaos while knowing full well that chaos was inevitable regardless of how gently she tried to introduce it.

"Tony's. He's Tony's," she admitted, and even as the words left her mouth she seemed to brace for impact, shoulders tightening just slightly as she watched the reaction ripple across the room.

There it was.

Recognition did not come all at once but in fragments, in the way Clint’s expression shifted first, followed by Natasha going very still, followed by Phil blinking like he had just missed a step in a conversation he should have understood, because now that it had been said, now that the connection had been made, it was impossible not to see it.

The grin.

The posture.

The way he occupied space as if he belonged there even when he clearly should not.

The arrogance that was not quite arrogance but something sharper, something more deliberate, something that felt inherited rather than learned.

Clint swore under his breath.

Natasha went very still.

Phil blinked.

Pepper did not give them time to process.

"And he only came to ask Tony to give up parenting rights."

That was the part that broke it, because the first revelation was shocking, yes, but this one made it worse, made it complicated, made it personal in a way none of them were prepared for, because this was not just about identity, this was about rejection, and rejection of someone they all cared about deeply.

All the adults moved their sight to the boy who was not only now the son of the man they all loved deeply, but who was, apparently, so against the idea of another parent he went through all this hassle just to get Tony out of his life.

There was a beat, long enough for the weight of that to settle, long enough for the silence to become something pressing and uncomfortable.

Harry stretched slightly in his chair, the metal of the cuffs clinking softly as he adjusted, entirely at ease under the scrutiny, as if this were nothing more than mild entertainment rather than a moment that had just fundamentally shifted the room.

The kid grinned, Tony's grin they realised, his feet still up on the table and making jazz hands, entirely unbothered by the fact that he had just dropped something that would take them far longer to process than it had taken him to say it.

"Surprise," he singsonged.

They all just stared at him.

Damn, tough crowd.

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Bonding- A chemical bond is a lasting attraction between atoms, ions or molecules that enables the formation of chemical compounds. The bond may result from the electrostatic force of attraction between oppositely charged ions as in ionic bonds or through the sharing of electrons as in covalent bonds.

Tony nodded his head wisely as he read the notes Friday had given him about bonding. He probably should have been slightly more clear when he gave the instructions to her though because uh... this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

Eh, how different can chemical and human bonding be? We’re all made up of atoms anyway and Tony had successfully cultivated multiple (relatively)healthy relationships. A small part of his brain noted that those that came to mind- Pepper and Happy specifically, had been paid to hang out with him. A bigger part of his brain ignored it.

“Fri? Can you ask Harry to come to my lab, please?”

“Of course, Boss. One Sec.” She answered.

…

Harry had been stress-baking for a while, angrily muttering to himself as he’d made the different types of batter.

Including blueberry pancakes. Because fuck you.

He’d woken up at three this morning, his nightmares even worse than usual due to the fighting last night. He’d dreamt of the Graveyard, only this time, his friends had all been there, Fenrir included. Voldemort had killed them all, laughing as they pleaded for Harry to save them. Except halfway through, he’d transformed into Uncle Vernon.

So, fun dream. Kudos to his creative mind, it enjoyed keeping him on his toes.

Harry really appreciated the creative liberties with his night terrors; loved the artistic detailing in adding the extra friends and family- he thought it was particularly genius to combine his biggest magical fear with his biggest muggle (heh pun) fear.

Harry hadn’t been able to fall back asleep after that, funnily enough, and so, running on even less sleep than the day before, had gotten up. He’d asked Friday about an open space to work out, freaking out in excitement about the gym which took up an entire floor. There had been the common machinery, treadmills, weights, the works. But the cool stuff went way pass those; there where two boxing rings, no doubt used for sparring. And above the whole floor where areal obstacles, obviously made for Peter, Clint and Natasha, considering what Harry’s new friend had told him of their skills. The course was made to test flexibility, core and general inventory skills- it takes a sharp brain to actually fight and get through an obstacle course- especially when it’s not on the damned ground. It should also be mentioned that there was the option of safety clips to keep participants harnessed, ensuring that if they fall, they won’t get hurts.

From the dust gathering on them, they were obviously never used.

Harry stayed in the gym for two hours, running through forms and indulging in the obstacle course for fun, before deciding he would pamper himself by having a fifteen-minute shower before getting then getting breakfast ready.

Except his magic had been slightly volatile, and as such, breakfast had mostly landed on him. But he’d gotten it done.
Suck it Snape- he was totally productive and didn’t sulk.

After breakfast was ready, made with love damnit, he’d stomped back to his room and taken yet another quick shower to rinse off the batter. But the novelty of endless hot water had done nothing to soothe his mind. Not even the angry yell Bucky inevitably let out when he entered the kitchen to see the food could cheer him up.

Honestly, Harry knew sleep was important objectively, but surely the ex-soldier had realised that all he needed to do to figure out who was cooking, was wake up earlier.

Should Harry have bothered to ask Bucky why his beauty sleep, Bucky would have to admit that Hydra was easier to face than a disappointed Steve. But Harry, who had not been sorted into Ravenclaw for numerous reasons, did not know that. Instead, he got dressed in an oversized red hoody and big jeans, deciding he’d stick to Gryffindors colours today to cheer him up, when Friday asked him to go down to Mr Stark’s lab. Harry looked at the ceiling,

“It’s... it’s not even six thirty...” Harry said in disbelief, slightly confused about why the man who’d been so angry at him yesterday wanted to see him. Unfortunately for Harry, he still didn’t understand the difference between someone being angry at him and angry for him. Hermione would say that’s why he should go to therapy. Harry would say that he had a fantastic sense of humour.

“Boss insists.” Friday replied smugly. Harry nodded, internally freaking out. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to put a wizard, in the same room as unstable experiments and priceless artefacts.

Wizard’s and technology don’t mix!

That’s common knowledge!

A little voice in the back of his mind reminded him snidely that how was his Father supposed to know he was a wizard if he hadn’t been told? Harry stubbornly ignored this voice, sending a text message to Weasel that he might need to switch his shift to a night shift from now on.

It wasn’t like Harry needed sleep anyway.

He was running on what? 7 hours sleep over the past 48 hours? And he was handling it like a Boss. The fuzziness at the edge of his vision was totally from his glasses and not exhaustion. It was a lucky thing indeed that Harry wasn’t aware that insomnia ran in the family, or he might have brained his Father when he first met him.

He shuffled down to the lift, ignoring Friday pointedly changing the music to, "We Are Family", by Sisters Sledge.

“Friday, music off.” Harry scowled at the floor, very much agreeing with Arthur Weasley, when he’d told Harry, Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.

The AI turned the music louder.

“I’m sorry, Mini Boss, my systems are overwrought by the family love.” She returned gleefully. Friday was just a sassier Skynet, and nothing could convince Harry otherwise.

Stupid AI with its stupid sly comments.

Maybe Harry would have another burst of "accidental" magic, and wouldn’t it be a travesty for it to revolve around the AI’s servers...

The lift pinged and Harry got out, reluctantly walking to the glass doors where he could see Mr Stark banging his head to some music. Harry could already hear Aunt Petunia’s sniff of distain; ruffian, that is not what a gentleman should listen to, nor act as.

Friday opened the glass automatic doors before Harry even got close to them, making sure the boy wouldn’t have the time to think of a way to get out of it.

Fucking Skynet, he swore.

“Boss, Mini Boss is here.” Friday announced happily, before turning the windows opaque, granting them more privacy.

Tony swivelled on the chair he was sitting in, gesturing to Harry to enter his workspace and sit down, which he did, perching awkwardly on the couch which sat at the back of the room, keeping them close enough that they could touch if they wanted to, without taking away their personal space. Harry narrowed his eyes as he noticed that his ‘Father’ happened to also be wearing a red t-shirt and jeans.

“So, Harry. I feel like we got off the wrong foot.” Tony said with what was supposed to be a charming grin. Harry just thought he looked like Lockheart.

“Well, preventing me from going back to my home-”

“Cult.” Tony interjected

“My home,” Harry repeated, glaring, “Probably had something to do with that.” Tony hummed as if considering this, before completely changing the subject and energy,

“So, here’s what I need. I don’t like the idea of you living here without me knowing anything about you. Makes me feel like I’m running a sort of motel and that doesn’t really go with my image- you get me?” Tony explained. NoHarry thought internally. Harry nodded silently. He knew there would be rules; finally, some direction for what he was expected to do. “So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re playing twenty-one questions.” Tony finished, looking incredibly proud of himself.

Those... those weren’t rules. It was his first potions class all over again. Listen carefully, not don’t write notes and oh, look, Harry messed up and now has to face punishment.

Twat.

Harry looked at him irritated, “No.”

“Thought you might say that.” He said unfazed, gesturing to Harry with a random wrench he’d found.

“But consider this. Won’t it be even more awkward living in a house with hidden dislike?” Harry privately thought otherwise. Hidden dislike means more ‘accidents’. When you know someone doesn’t like you, you can plan accordingly. And personally, Harry wasn’t exactly trying to hide his dislike of Tony. Instead of pointing his glaring dislike out to this man, he chose to hum noncommittally.

“I’ll do it but there are rules. Nothing personal. I can chose not to answer.”

“Great. you start.” Tony said. He searched the teenager with an analytical gaze, noting the hair, the way he had tied his trainers, the way Harry tapped his fingers against each other in a rhythmical way. Look at him, having created a human. An actual (potentially functional) human. Who would have thought? Not him.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Harry sighed.

“Dogs. Are you open to the possibility that you might have been in a cult?” Tony answered quickly. At Harry’s glare, he pivoted. “Fine, orange. I like orange. My Mother, your Grandmother,” He said, gesturing vaguely to Harry was studiously looking at his shoes, “Nonna. I think she would have preferred that actually,” Tony said with a nostalgic smile, “Well, your Nonna was from Italy. Vico Equense, specifically. It’s beautiful there; a coastal town near Naples. And every summer, we’d go there, for at least two weeks but we’d always try to stay for longer, and everything looked orange to me. The town in famous for oranges, one of the biggest places they grow in Italy in fact, and the sunsets where also orange... orange makes me remember a paradise with only freshly squeezed orange juice, drank whilst watching an orange sunset, whilst eating tomato mascarpone pasta.” He nudged Harry, smiling in a conspiracy like manner, “I don’t know if you picked up on it yet, but your Nonna and I would try to make everything orange.” He let out a small laugh.

“Where is she now?” Harry asked bluntly. Tony faltered at the harsh response.

“She died. When I was nineteen.” Tony said shortly, not really wanting to rehash it all- especially considering that whilst Tony knew the difference between Barnes and the Hydra agent who killed his parents; Harry seemed to be looking for a damned fight with the soldier.

Just like his old Pops.

Except Tony actually knew how to fight, he’d been doing his job for a damn while and he was fucking good at it. This boy, who was so damn skinny, didn’t exactly inspire Tony that he wouldn’t break his hand punching Bucky. It would be funny to watch though...wait- no, bad Tony. That’s not good parenting.

“Oh, er, sorry.” Harry rubbed the back of his head and Tony gave a secret grin, laughing internally about how lack of social grace had definitely been inherited by Harry. It was endearing honestly, seeing the kid have things from him. Tony had been in unhealthy relationships too at his age! Golly gee, Father and Son, so similar!

Tony would like it known for the record that he’d at least never joined a cult.
... he almost started one, but never joined one. He shook his head slightly at that.

God Harry, Stark men are leaders not followers- apart from when it comes to any woman in their life, they have no authority then, they just follow them when told to... mostly because they’re never wrong.

Tony almost asked Harry the same question he had before but, he thought it might be better to build up to that- especially considering they actually seemed to be ignoring the fact that Tony was kind of blackmailing Harry to live here.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Tony asked curiously. Harry seemed to ponder about this for a second,

“I uh, I would have said red and gold- not because of Iron Man,” Harry shut that idea down quickly when he saw Tony waggling his eyebrows, “It was my old house colours in my school. But I think my favourite colour is just... yellow?” He shrugged awkwardly, not really knowing why he had to make the distinction between red&gold and plain old yellow.

“I decided this when I was what... three? My cousin had come back from nursery with a sunflower. And every day it just grew,” Harry borderline whispered, not knowing how to express the awe he’d felt at three, seeing something just climb up to the sky, so big it would never fit in a cupboard. He’d had dreams when he was younger about climbing the flower and letting it take him away from the house. Then he’d actually tried- and of course, broke the flower. That had been a painful two weeks.

“I like purple.” Came an awkward voice from the ceiling. Tony screamed whilst Harry jumped from his seat, grabbing something that Tony wouldn’t see; Tony tried to push Harry behind him, summoning a gauntlet, wanting him safe from the threat, except- well Harry had the same idea, causing both the Starks to slap the other across the face, as they tried to get the other to safety.

Slowly, one Peter Parker lowered himself down from where he’d been on the ceiling, using a piece of web to let him dangle upside-down, both feet flat against the other, with only the web fluid between them.

“Sorry?” He said awkwardly.

“The fuck Parker?” Harry said angrily, although Peter only smiled in response as he saw the small smile and amused glint the younger boy wore- Harry tooooootally was proud of Peter for managing to sneak up on him, even if he’d never admit it.

“Hey! Don’t swear at my kid!” Tony interjected, causing one to look at him with wide-eyes and disappointment, the other with a blank face.

“Sorry.” Harry mumbled quietly. Tony winced as he saw those walls which had potentially started to come down, fortify.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Tony winced, knowing this was the second time he’d fucked up in this way. Harry nodded but internally he was happy. This was good. He had needed the reminder of what he was here for. A signature. Tony glanced between Harry and Peter before jerking his head down in Peter’s direction, signalling him to get down from the ceiling and sit on a chair. The two sitting next to each other he crouched in front of them. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders, stoically ignoring the flinch,

“Hey, kid. Look at me. I don’t like to focus on emotion, alright? Howard never taught me how to do that and I’ve only recently tried to actually figure it out. But you need to understand this- you are both my kids. You and Peter and Harley- even though he’s an asshole. And the best thing is? They haven’t got a massive advantage over you, because I only recently met them, and the extra time I’ve had with them counters out the fact that they don’t live with me full time. You’re all on equal ground. Blood or not, family isn’t reliant on them and I hope one day you’ll see me as that. Anything that you can come up with to argue that we couldn’t be- none of that even matters because you all mean the same to me.” He said earnestly, purposefully avoiding the L word because, he barely knew Harry.

He didn’t get to say he loved him as a person, he could only love the idea of having a son because they’d only known each other for a damned day. And he wasn’t going to mix those up until he could say with his whole heart that he loved Harry Potter Stark- or maybe he’d prefer Harry Stark Potter- eh, logistics. Point is- he cared about Harry, but only in an abstract way, and he didn’t care that this kid was probably brainwashed; it wouldn’t be the first under his roof- motherfucker... it would be his third.

Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to routinely hire ex-brainwashed victims to be Avengers???

Wanda, Natasha, Bucky- he needed to have a word with Fury about his recruitment game.

Peter’s bottom lip was wobbling, the young teen very much open with his emotions and not constipated like the other two in the room. He was so getting Friday to send a copy of that speech to Pepper, they could gush about the family bonding together on their weekly movie nights.

Oh shit, he had to make sure they remembered to invite Harry; the next movie night was tomorrow, and Peter had to make sure they watched Star Wars together if Harry hadn’t seen it because of his Amish roots.

Oh wait- maybe they should save that for the whole family movie night, Bucky loved the movies and he’d probably be really pissed if they watched it without him.

“Group hug?” Peter said hopefully.

“We’re not there yet.” Harry said stubbornly, not understanding why Peter or Tony cracked a smile. “And we won’t be. Stark, look mate, that’s great and all but I have a biological family. I have a family that I chose. I don’t need another.” Harry said cooly noting how that façade of constant humour and jokes that Stark hide behind cracked. He looked back at Peter and saw the boy watching him back.

“Cool, this is great, Tony I want to hang out with Harry.” Peter said with a surge of protectiveness. Harry cocked his head, wondering if this is what friendship looked like. Friendship not born of life and death situations, that is. If it was, then Harry was delighted about making his first muggle friend. Look at him being normal- this was totally going in his diary. (note to self- ask Wade for a dairy)

“So... how exactly did you two meet?” Tony eventually asked. Harry snorted, arms crossed and posture defensive.

“Well, funny story actually...” Peter laughed nervously, shooting figure guns at his pseudo-Father, causing Tony to groan, already gathering the tone of this story. “I didn’t have my keys so decided to sleep at your house, which you already knew. Except when I climbed through one of the windows, which- thanks Friday, for not yeeting me off the side of the building by the way.” Both Tony and Harry shot the boy a confused look over his vocab- the fuck was a yeeting?

“No worry, Peter.” Friday said kindly.

“And so, I climbed in but then, bamn, Harry-”

“I screamed.” Harry interrupted. Peter shot him a confused look, not sure why he wouldn’t want his Dad to know about his super cool knives. Like- dude, knives. Tony shot the two of them a suspicious look, knowing there was definitely something the two weren’t telling him. Peter was studiously looking forward, past Tony’s ears, trying not to make eye contact. But Harry was staring right at him, almost begging him to challenge the story and Tony suddenly wondered why he wanted the kid. He had two children who wanted him. Did he need a third? Yes, his traitorous mind said.

“He screamed.” Peter repeated slowly, doing nothing to convince Tony that that’s what happened.

“And then I threw a shoe.” Harry nodded sagely, confirming to Tony that there was totally something amiss.

Both of them refused to look at each other, as if that hid the fact they were lying through their teeth.

“Yup, threw a shoe the old fella did.” Peter confirmed, making Tony cringe, slightly disappointed about how bad Peter was at lying.

“Right...”

“Anyway, I then freaked out about how I had revealed my identity to Harry and so he kept to the theme of throwing things at me and threw a chocolate at me. Then we became best friends and hung out all day.” Peter said, deciding to be vague on the part where Harry was messing with a highly trained ex-assassin psychologically and also working with actual still very much working assassins.

That was a biological family problem; he didn’t need to be there for that.

Tony felt that the last part was probably true, not believing that Peter knew how to side-step the truth. Peter couldn’t lie for his damn life, so it was obvious when he was but twisting the truth was something he was slightly better at, as his guilt didn’t act up because he wasn’t technically lying. He needed to be good at some form of lying if he wanted to keep Spiderman a secret.

“Huh.” Tony said assessing to the boys who sat in front of him, both giving angel smiles, that looked more like grimaces.

“That’s certainly on track for how Stark’s tend to make an impression- throwing shit at people.”

“Isn’t it?” Peter agreed, proud of how he’d obviously fooled the man. Harry was less sure that the man had bought it but didn’t think Stark would call them out on it just yet.

“I’m a Potter.” Harry said instead, ignoring how the room cooled at his declaration.

“Mmmhhhhmm.” Tony crossed his arms, deciding not to bring it up. “So, Harry, what’s your school like?” Tony asked, refraining from batting his eyelashes. He thought it made him look charming, but Pepper told him he just looked like a bimbo.

Tony personally thought he would make an amazing Bimbo but meh, probably not the impression he wanted to make with his kid.
“Holy Thor- Mr Stark, it’s so cool!” Peter gushed. “He went to an Amish school!” Peter continued on, not seeing Harry make an abortabortabort sign with his hands. Tony looked at his kid, suddenly realising that the lack of information about the school was making a lot more sense now, “He didn’t know who the Avengers where or anything! Did you know the first movie he ever really watched was that Documentary produced by Marvel? We watched it together when we first met. And his phone is like- ancient, like wow. It was sooooo cool!” Peter was jumping up and down from where he sat on the couch. Tony blinked slowly.
His son... grew up away from the modern world.

His flesh and blood grew up away from technology- the son of the man who invented modern-day technology.

What the fuck.
What could he even do with it- er, him.

“You grew up away from technology?” Tony said faintly. Harry rubbed the back of his head; he knew technology was a big deal to muggles and stuff but bloody hell; the man looked like Harry brought him a decapitated head on a stick.

“Yes?” He said, his answer sounding more like a question.

“Did you even know who I was when you were told my name?” Tony asked, conflicted- if the kid knew nothing but a documentary, it was basically a clean slate away from the Merchant of Death debacle. On the flip side- everyone knows his name! There’s only a select few who don’t! Which apparently included- his Godforsaken son!

“Not... not really?” Harry replied wincing. The fuck did the old man want him to say?

“How cool is that!” Peter interjected, causing both Starks to give an internal sigh.

“Huh. So, was the education different at an Amish school? Considering the lack of... technology.” Tony said, feeling like someone had touched him in a bad place. Why would anyone want to live without technology?

“Um, no. Not really.” Harry said, trying to remember what kind of subjects’ muggles taught.

“What’s your favourite subject?” Tony asked curiously.

“Oh, uh.” Think, think, think, shit- muggle subjects- “I...liked... sports.” Harry said slowly, ignoring the scrunched-up nose Peter and Tony did, as their faces contorted in distaste. Quidditch was a sport- ha, suck it. “And” Why the fuck did he decide to name more? Ever heard of digging yourself into a hole? No??? “I was good... at...” Shit- this was slightly harder than he expected. Note to self- learn the muggle translation to wizarding terms “Biology.” He finished. Motherfucker- Care of Magical Creatures does not fucking count as biology! His internal voice screamed Well, I couldn’t exactly say Defence Against The Dark Arts, now could I? He screamed back. The other two in the room shot him a doubtful look which he chose to ignore.

“What’s your favourite part?” Peter asked, giving an encouraging smile. Tony didn’t want to be that asshole, but he found it hard to believe that you could go from being bottom of the class to being amazing at Biology.

Harry blushed in embarrassment as he realised that no matter what he said, he was going to look stupid. Mr Stark and Peter had Lab days- they were obviously smart; he hadn’t been in muggle school since eleven years old. Forget different levels, the three of them were on different planets.

Harry had liked maths when he was younger, been good at it to- in fact, that was one of the first things he knew could defend himself on when Hagrid had gotten mad at the Dursley’s because he knew nothing.

Nowadays, that statement uttered so many years ago was probably quite true from a muggle’s perspective. He’d have to fucking work to get back to the talent he may have had- because it sure as hell wasn’t there now.

“I like animals.” Harry said shortly, hoping they’ll just drop the subject. Tony just stayed silent, and Harry couldn’t help but the impression that he was disappointed.

Of course, he was, you twat; you’d fail the 13+, forget the A-Levels you’re supposed to be doing- thank fuck he’s a Wizard.

Wizard shit made so much sense.

Merlin- even potions made sense- he even enjoyed the subject... if he ignored Snape. Point is- he was damn good at it, just like cooking.

“Animals... that’s nice.” Peter said, obviously realising that Harry wasn’t on the same wavelength as him on this.

“Yup... animals.” Harry repeated, looking at the floor and nodding slowly.
There was yet another awkward silence, in the seemingly never-ending line of them.

Tony glanced at his watch, “Hey uh, do you guys want to maybe go to the Zoo?” Both the teens looked at him like he grew another head.

“Huh?” Peter asked, cocking his head.
“Well, Harry likes animals, so I just thought...” Peter decided to jump in them,

“That sounds really cool. I haven’t been in ages!” Peter smiled, looking encouragingly at Harry. Harry smiled back, thinking of Dudley being trapped behind the glass at the snake’s exhibit. Of course, Tony and Peter thought he was just thinking of a sweet childhood memory... which technically, for Harry it was.

“Let me just set everything up, we should be ready to go in half an hour, sound good?” Tony asked rhetorically, walking out the room as the boys talked, waiting for the door to close so the opaque windows would allow him to drop the pretence of making arrangements. Friday had already done that and had taken care of costumes to hide him ages ago.

“Friday? Can we add going to the Zoo to the list and use the security footage to get a photo of Harry’s face when I told him?” Tony asked, trying to be casual whilst excited.

“Of course, Boss. Would you like to view what we have so far?”

“Sure, girl. Lay it on me.”

Before he even finished speaking, a hologram formed around him, and Tony gave a small grin. He wasn’t going to be his Dad; he was going to have a relationship with his son- even if so far, they had nothing in common.

HARRY POTTER (STARK)

FIRST MEETING- Check
FIRST FIGHT- Check
FIRST PLAYDATE- Check
FIRST VISIT TO THE ZOO- Check

FIRST SURPIRSE-

MEETING A PARTNER-

MEETING HIS FRIENDS-

DROPPING HIM OFF FOR HIS FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL-
FIRST MEETING THE OTHER KIDS- Peter_ check// Wanda_// Harley_

Next to each checkpoint was a photo- all taken on Friday’s cameras, but there, nonetheless. Maybe it was sort of weird to have a list filled with the things he’d gotten to do but he was worried about this kid (he might be in a fucking cult and is in cahoots with a serial killer- he’s fucking allowed to be) and wanted to try and make memories. Especially considering September might be the last time he ever sees the kid.

He sighed and closed the hologram, making his way back into his lab where…Could these fuckers not behave for one damn second?

Peter was standing below Harry who had a Spiderweb attached from his ankle to the ceiling. Harry was being pushed by Peter, causing him to twirl and spin above multiple highly dangerous experiments.

Grey hairs. Some Fathers got happiness, some a purpose, some a good relationship- he got grey hairs. “What the actual fuck is going on?” Tony shouted. Peter gaped at him,

“Mr Stark! Mr Rodgers would be so disappointed if he heard you swear!” Harry had managed to get down- how the fuck he got out of web fluid with incredible tensile strength, without a knife he’d never know.

(Harry will let you all in on a secret: he used a knife)

Harry approached quickly to where Peter was glaring at Mr Stark with his hands on his hips and positioned himself slightly infant of the older boy. The other two didn’t realise.

“Sure Underoos, the man who was in the army doesn’t like it when I say fuck.” Tony snorted,

“Mr Stark!” Peter protested scandalised. Tony reached up to ruffle Peter’s hair only to be pushed back by something, and landed on his ass, cutting his hand on the way down from a table edge. It wasn’t even deep but the fact that it had happened at all in his safe place pissed him off. He looked up from where he’d fallen to see Harry looking at him with a hard expression.

“The hell was that for!” Tony said angrily, fury rearing its ugly head.

“Mr Stark, are you alright!” Peter gushed, running forward to help him up. Harry’s face flickered in the light, emotions flashing through his eyes so quickly Tony didn’t have a chance to decipher them. He didn’t plan on taking the time. Tony got up quickly and stormed out the room, reiterating that they should all meet in the common room in ten minutes with no pitstops.

Harry was still unmovable. He was staring at the place that Tony had fallen with an cold expression on his face and Peter saw his eyes were someplace far away.

“Harry?” Peter said cautiously, trying to catch the boy’s attention. Nothing. So, Peter did what Harry had done to him when he’d gotten nervous. He found a random ball of blue-tack and threw it at him.

Harry caught it, his eyes never even glancing towards it, but he blinked a few times, some tension Peter hadn’t even noticed releasing from his shoulders, which Peter counted as a win. Peter sat down, looking expectantly at Harry who after glaring at Peter for a few seconds, folded like a house of cards next to him. Harry crossed his legs and Peter made sure there was distant between them so Harry wouldn’t feel crowded. Harry started thumbing the blue-tac, making little dents before smoothing them out.

“Harry? Can I give you a hug?” Peter asked in a small voice, knowing that physical contact was always what he needed. Harry shook his head fervently. Peter nodded reassuringly, “That’s cool.”

Harry huffed under his breath. It wasn’t. He had seen clips of Stark’s anger online. Seen the man’s strength and the precision when he striked back at someone who had angered him.

“Do you have any friends back home?” Peter asked, guessing that was a safe question. Harry snapped his head back from where he’d been playing with the blue-tac.

“Yes. I have Hermione, Ron, Draco and the twins I guess.” Harry said, a small smile playing at his lips as he imagined their faces if they saw him talking to what Draco would describe as a creature, before glancing up briefly to look at Peter before looking back down, tugging his knees to his chest.

“That’s awesome! Their names are pretty interesting.” Peter said encouragingly. “How did you get your job? At the bar, I mean.” Peter asked curiously. Harry considered the pros and cons of answering the questions before relenting.

“It was after I came to New York. I had no money, after getting to Stark Tower and had found a nice alleyway to stay in, close to a public library where I could check my emails to see if Mrs Potts replied. Weasel- he’s the owner if you can’t remember, saw me and offered to let me crash on his couch in return for working there. Now that I live here, he pays me. Not a lot, mind you, but enough.” Harry said, monotone. Peter made sure to keep his breathing calm, but his gaze flickered up to where he knew Friday’s cameras where. Harry had had to live rough and that needed to be factored into handling him- Harry couldn’t be treated like a kid.

Harry looked at Peter enquiringly, “You’re pretty good at calming people down. Got experience?” Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. Peter cleared his throat, Friday’s cameras once again coming to his mind.

“Yeah, I used to get them pretty bad when my parents died and then again when my Uncle Ben passed away.” Peter shrugged.

“Damn, look at us.” Harry huffed, shaking his head and slowly getting up.

“Come on. Stark said to be there in ten minutes, and it’s been nine.” Harry said, holding out a hand for Peter who looked at him strangely.

“Don’t you want to take a breather.” Peter questioned.

“I can do that while walking. We should go.”

When they got there, Tony handed them both a pair of sunglasses and hat stiffly, before leading them to the car where Happy was to drive them to the Zoo. Harry sighed, and using concentration, cast a notice-me-not charm (that one had been essential to learn at Azkaban considering the guards had no issue releasing their frustration on you, and the dementors never stuck to the rules of feeding once a day) on Stark.

Did heroes honestly think a baseball hat and sunglasses are going to prevent people from recognising them?

Once they got there, Happy promising to stick around the area until they needed him again, they realised what happened in the Lab still hung heavily in the air.

Tony and Harry walked on either side of Peter who, if from the disapproving look, he was shooting them was any indication, very much realised why. They wondered around for a while, Peter refusing to see the Arachnid Exhibit and instead begged them to look at the penguins, which no one was against. After, Tony caught sight of the Big Cats Exhibition and swivelled on his heel to walk- definitely not run, towards it.

Sue him- cheetahs where cool.

Eventually, they decided to grab a quick bite to eat, and the tension was defused when at Harry’s declaration that he’d never had a hotdog, lead to Peter Parker ‘The New Yorker’. being aghast and running around the different carts to find the best one. Harry was so hungry by the end, still waiting twenty minutes later for them to decide the best hotdog vender, he just walked up to a Mexican truck and asked for six tacos (Peter needed three).

Wade kept talking about them so they must be good.

Peter pouted, promising Harry that they’d show him the best hotdog later. Tony stayed silent, reconsidering the boy he had taken into his home.

“What’s your favourite animal?” Tony asked Harry as they munched on lunch, thinking they should hit that sector, as Peter got to see his favourite, and Tony had seen his.

“Um, I like snakes?” Harry said hesitantly, unsure whether answering was for the best. Tony pursed his lips in consideration and nodded,

“Never been a big fan of them myself, much prefer the fluffy animals.” He shrugged, Peter nodding along enthusiastically, not wanting to admit he was terrified of snakes. They made quick headway at walking and eating, still talking about why snakes where terrifying. Harry probably would have been scared of snake if, y’know, he couldn’t hear them arguing about the best sunspot- in a New Yorker accent!

Do you know how weird it is to hear a green reptile tell another snake to "get outta ‘ere with yo crap"? Because Harry did- and it was fucking weird.

Not that he’d tell them that.

They walked through the exhibit in mostly silence, Peter and Tony trying to outdo each other with random facts about zoos and snakes.

“Did you know that snakes have no ribs?” Tony boasted.

“Gawd, humans are so fucking stupid.” One python groaned in a New Jersey accent,

“We have hundreds of “em not none. Their Mother eva teach ‘em that?” The snake hissed. Harry eyed the snake and shrugged,

“They actually have hundreds of ribs.” Harry piped up. The snake, Stark and Peter all went silent.

“Ayo, Timmy, look here, there’s a not so dumb human, correcting the actually dumb humans.” The snake called out, causing another snake to slither up to the glass.

“Aw, look at that Mr Stark! The son beats the Father!” Peter laughed. Stark started bluffing his way into an explanation of how he wasn’t actually wrong and as the two started cajoling each other and walking ahead Harry shuffled up to the glass,

“Thanksss for the fact.” Harry hissed, winking at the snake.

“Da fuck?? Since when can humans speak our language! Ay, you! Come back here!” The snake shouted at Harry’s turned back.

They finally left the Zoo when it was closing time, Tony absolutely chuffed about how their disguises had worked so well, and Peter dead asleep as soon as they got in the car, with Peter who “sat” in the middle, basically sprawled across the two Stark’s laps.

Happy put the divider up as soon as the three entered the car, for reasons that Harry just didn’t have enough energy to question. The gentle hum of the engine and the darkening sky lulled Harry into a sense of, not safety, but a lack of unease. He still didn’t start a conversation with the older man.

“Harry?” Tony said wearily. Harry turned to look at him and the man took his sunglasses off, “I know we only just met. Believe me, I know. And I know it isn’t my place but- will you please try to understand why I don’t want you going back to England? I don’t know what Black has told you but, you’re just a kid and it doesn’t matter how mature you are, he-”

“Stark.” Harry interrupted, running a hand down his face, “Tony. Sirius has a fiancée. A thirty-year-old fiancée. He was talking to him, when he was saying "we could finally be together." He wants to adopt me.” Harry said imploringly, and Tony felt like the rug just got pulled out of him. So… his kid was till in contact with a convicted serial killer; not for grooming but to take his place as ‘Dad’.

Tony was going to stick with the school still sounding a bit culty and Harry wanting to be emancipated to be adopted by his parents’ murder to reassure himself that Harry should stay with him. He’ll be honest- it was totally working, those points where strong.

“So-” Tony started softly, understanding that this was a branch and reacting badly couldn’t happen. “So... you were treated well in England? You were happy?” Tony asked hopefully. Harry looked down at his lap, rubbing his thumb over one of his hands. Huh, the kid had a weird scar there, but before he could get a closer look, Harry completely covered the hand he’d been massaging with his other.

“Uh...” Harry sounded so lost, so annoyed with himself that he couldn’t answer, that Tony cut him off the line, happy that at least now he was wondering about how his life in England had been. Even if his Aunt had been amazing; that didn’t account for all the other weird shit.

“You don’t have to answer now.”

Harry looked at him and nodded. The two sat in silence for the rest of the trip, both lost in their thought.

…

Why the hell did Tony have to say all that?

Harry was freaking out.

Harry had been fine going back to England; he’d never considered another option. Yet now, boom- were you happy, Harry thought incredulously. Mate, he was locked in a fucking cupboard for the majority of his childhood, gaining nothing but malnourishment and scars where most children got love and toys, only to be thrust into a school where he got even more scars and people tried to kill him every year.

Of course, he wasn’t fucking treated well! Of course, he wasn’t happy!

But Harry had a fucking duty to help because even though he killed Voldemort- which, where the fuck was his thank you??, Harry still had to get Dumbledore in prison and save his damned Dogfather. Who yes, he would do anything to free but sometimes... he just got out of the worst experience of his life and the only one whose been telling Harry to actually try to heal had been Remus. But Harry was fine, he’d never been given time to fucking heal before, he wasn’t sure he’d even know what that looks like.
And now- his damned Father had to ask about his happiness as if that should have an impact. What the fuck.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t realise the car had pulled up at Stark Tower until they were there. The sun was setting, and Harry honestly thought this might have been one of the most normal days of his life, despite some of the rocky sections.

The bar had finally risen off the floor and Harry was so pleased with himself for that. Before, an normal day would have consisted not having his soul and happiness being sucked out of him by Dementors; now, a zoo.

They woke Pete up gently, and he pottered after them whilst rubbing his eyes, holding onto Tony with one arm. Harry envied the easy comfort they had with each other, despite staying steady in his decision to go back.

They entered the tower to silence. Harry was automatically on edge, but Tony only seemed to get giddy, even Peter started waking up.

They walked to Tony’s floor and Harry started to say goodbye, heading for his room.

“Nope, not so fast short stuff.” Tony put his hand across Harry’s chest, preventing him from moving and Harry reeled back. Don’t touch me, he hissed under his breath, so low no one should have heard. From the way Peter’s shoulder’s tensed, someone did. Tony led him towards the room he believed one of Tony’s friends frequented and Harry rolled his shoulder’s back as he realised that perhaps his bad behaviour for the day wouldn’t be as unpunished as he previously expected. Fine, Harry could do that. Tony sent Harry a nervous smile, and Harry’s eyebrows furrowed at the abnormal behaviour.

“You didn’t think I’d actually make you sleep in a cupboard did you?” He grinned opening the door.

The door opened to reveal Pepper, Natasha, Steve, Barnes (the fucker looked so damn smug), Wanda and Sam, all grinning broadly, in paint covered casual clothes. Harry paused. He didn’t want to enter this room. This… this yellow room.

There were sunflowers covering the wall his double bed was against, making a mural. The floor had a dark red Persian rug, unknowingly to them, reminding Harry of the Gryffindor Tower. A built-in bookshelf stood on one side of his bed, a nightstand on the other, with a simple salt lamp acting as a source of slight. His desk and chair where close to the wall which held the door, and the wardrobe was built into the wall that held another door; the door leading onto an on-suite bathroom. It was a bedroom. Harry felt numb. It was his bedroom, but this wasn’t his home.

“Surprise.” Pepper smiled kindly. Harry snapped his head back to face Tony who looked nervous but excited. Peter was basically vibrating with enthusiasm.

Harry twitched. Anger and a something in the back of his throat that seemed softer making it hard for him to talk. Harry didn’t want a place here. He couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t stay. Why would they try and make him to stay? He clenched his teeth, trying to find the way to say he didn’t need this charity or kindness because he wasn’t theirs’s to protect but Pepper seemed to realise, her face softening and she walked up to Harry, gently carding her hands through his hair and tugging him into her motherly embrace. She was taller that Mrs Weasley, the only other motherly figure he’d ever known, and she wore a large AC/DC shirt stained with paint and cut off shorts instead of the long matronly dress. But Harry loved the distinction, and burrowed into the woman he barely knew, overwrought with emotions.

And quietly, so quietly that it was for no one but them, Pepper whispered ferociously, “He may not be your Dad, but you’re his son. This isn’t to force you to stay, it’s to show you that you can.” Harry said nothing, a clicking sound in the back of his throat his only response.

The other participants all left, all clapping Tony on the back as they left, Peter pushing Tony closer to the still hugging duo before leaving as well.

“Your family Harry.” Pepper whispered, feeling a surge of emotion to protect him. Harry said nothing. But looked up at Stark who was just standing there, in reach of a hug, of a hand. Harry said nothing. But as they stared at each other, Harry felt his anger pause as he wondered, just for a second, just for a moment in time, what life would have been like if he’d been given to this man who gave him a sunflower and not a cupboard.

Chapter Text

Bruce knew that Tony had a kid. And that was great. He had positive feelings towards the kid. Feelings similar to the same way any scientist feels when they find out they're not allowed to run experiments on it.

Friendly experiments.
Like, honestly- what’s the worst that could happen?

You could turn him into a big green rage monster, a voice pipped up. Bruce squashed it, that was a fluke and not reflective of his abilities. He hadn't had been using proper lab etiquette. It doesn't count.

Anyway, the thing was- Bruce didn't know a lot about the kid. He knew that Harry might have been in a cult (as kids do, children should be allowed to experiment with self-expression) and that he was in cahoots with his serial killer godfather but that was about it.

He’d like for it to be on record that it wasn't exactly like anyone upon immediately finding out they have a kid would want to put it in the same room as a killing machine. CPS would have a field day with that. So, it wasn’t exactly like he’d been avoiding Harry, just deliberately making sure he wasn’t in the same room as it. Him. Harry.

It was perfectly logical to avoid Harry and for them to barely see each other.

Bruce had run the numbers, and should he utilise his experience in avoiding people, he planned on only seeing Harry at meals, surrounded by superhero’s.

 All of this made perfect sense.

So why in Thor's name was Harry staring at him.

As the kid grinned at him from where he stood behind the glass, his hand knocking against the glass door pantomiming for Bruce to open the door for him, Bruce cursed Tony. It had been a week since the Zoo trip and ever since then, Peter, Tony and Harry were hanging out in the lab, learning about each other. Tony with eagerness, Peter with his usual extreme levels of excitement and Harry with a surly expression.

Which was cute- if Bruce didn't share the same space.

What Bruce was trying to communicate here was that he'd basically been kicked out of his lab for a week and now that Tony had meetings all day and Peter was back at school for extra credit and more exams- he was supposed to have silence.

Calming, non-Hulk inducing, silence.

Not a younger version of Tony looking giddy to see him. Bruce looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath and remembered that he was not allowed to use his special smoking pal when in the lab.

“Fri? Let him in. And inform Tony that Harry's in the same room as me.” Bruce signed, trying to come across calm. Unfortunately, his tone that very much implied he'd given up.

The doors opened and Harry walked in, wearing an ugly hand-knitted jumper with the letter H on it.

It was the ugliest sweater Bruce had ever seen. Ever. He needed one immediately.

“Hi Dr Banner. Do you know where Stark or Pete is?” Harry questioned. Bruce sighed, not having had enough tea to deal with people.

“They're both away working.” Bruce explained gently, slightly turning his back to the boy, to put an experiment on status. The two had defiantly forgotten to tell Harry that they'd be gone for the majority of the week if the facial expression was any
gander. Which meant socially awkward Bruce got to tell the kid that he was basically alone in a Tower where he didn’t know anyone for the entirety of the week.

“Oh.” Harry looked down at a pair of scruffy trainers, his fingers twitching against his leg. Bruce frowned at the disappointed aura this boy was radiating. Harry looked up briefly at the scientist and being reminded of someone he knew, gave a hesitant smile.

“Could I possibly do my homework here? Only if it wouldn’t be a bother.” Harry asked, with the biggest puppy eyes that seemed to have clearly been learnt by Peter.

Damnit. Say no. It’s a bother- it’s a big bother.

“Of course. It’s no bother at all.” Bruce said instead.

This is why you hate yourself.

Harry brightened, “Thank you so much! I'll just go get my work and be back in just a second.” He said scurrying up back to his room to gather supplies. Bruce blinked.

As soon as he left, Bruce knocked his head repetitively into a lab table, “Friday? Call Tony.” He groaned, his voice muffled against the table.

“Sup, Bruciebear. What's going on?” Came the cheerful voice of his friend.

“Your son wants to hang out with me.” Bruce trembled with dread, eying the test tubes and wondering whether infecting himself with an unknown alien virus was worth the risk. His eyes drifted back to the doors still left open. It might be worth it. The Hulk will make sure he doesn’t die.

“Oh, cool. Just make sure to feed him, he won't take any food unless it's offered to him; he's shy.” Tony said flippantly.

“Tony! This could go terribly wrong; I’m being serious here!” Bruce exclaimed. Tony didn't seem to care that his son was in mortal peril.

“So am I! You need to remember to feed him, I think he’d rather die than ask for food. And nothing is going to go wrong- well only if you feed him pickles- he has a thing against pickles. Which is really interesting because I don't like pickles either which also has this really cool implication about genetics actually-“

“Tony, you know what I mean.” Bruce said quietly, starting to feel sick. He heard his friend sigh loudly over the phone.

“Bruce. My science bro. The green radioactive apple of my eye. You aren't going to kill my kid.” Tony said decisively. “You have a good track record with not killing my kids. You still haven't killed Peter.” Tony pipped up helpfully.

“He's super-powered, Tony.” Bruce complained.

“You haven't killed me. I'm not super-powered. The worst thing that can happen is you maim the kid- but we can just brush that off as character building.” Tony rebutted. Bruce could feel a headache coming on.

“You have a metal suit. Harry has anxiety.” Bruce argued. Tony went silent.

“Technically, we don't know if he has anxiety.” Tony talked back. Bruce defiantly had a headache.

“Well considering his symptoms, it's either that or PTSD so... which one do you think is more probable.” Bruce pointed out.

“Fair point. Doesn't matter though, I own the Tower and as such am your landlord.” Tony announced with a tone of grandeur. “And as your landlord I say you have to babysit my kid as rent.”

“I don't pay rent- Tony! Did you just hang up on me?” Bruce shouted at the ceiling.

“Is...is everything okay Dr Banner?” Came a cautious voice from the door. Bruce swung his head down, his eyes mourningly catching sight of the vile filled with sweet, sweet, release from looking after a teenager he may kill, and turned to see Harry nervously peeking in with his hands filled with books.

Bruce ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Yeah, yes. Yes. Everything is fine.” He bluffed. Harry looked at him warily,

“Are you sure it's okay if I do my work in here? I have a lot of catch-up work, and I usually have Mione to help me stay on track but uh... well, different country and all that.” Harry shrugged awkwardly.

“Uh, okay. I mean, yes. Go for it. If you need help in the sciences, I can always help.” Bruce shrugged, truly hoping that Harry wouldn't take him up on it.

Harry didn't respond, only shooting him a nervous smile as he found an empty worktable and started reading through his thick textbooks. Bruce got back to working on his experiment- it would hopefully allow the Arc Reactor energy to be stored, which means they could globalise clean energy. This of course, was the end goal. The current experiment was recording the different levels of rust the Arc Reactor would face in different environments.

They worked in compatible silence, both shooting glances at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking.

Tony and Peter looked at each other, each holding a smug look as they sipped their caparisons.

“Told you it would work.” Peter boasted smugly as he watched the interaction through Friday's cameras.

“Operation get Harry to bond with more of our family is a go.” Tony held his hand up for a high five, which Peter gleefully returned. They were hiding out in Peter’s apartment; Aunt May just sighing and leaving an $20 on the counter for the pizza they would undoubtedly order when she opened the door to leave for the hospital, only to see her son’s mentor. Unfortunately, this was a common enough occurrence- one of them would get a stupid idea, Pepper or she would find out about it and ban the stupid idea, and they would sneak over to the other one’s house to do the stupid idea.

And then they’d get driven to Hospital because they hadn’t realised that dropping something heavy leads to cracked marble, which leads to shards of displaced marble being stuck in a billionaire’s foot.

Luckily for both Tony and Peter, they decided that their newest idiotic idea didn’t involve them creating massive destruction. Bruce on the other hand...

Eh, the dude should just smoke some weed.

They sat on the couch as they watched the monitors (Friday’s screens shared from Tony’s phone to the TV).

“Tony. Peter.” An irritated voice came from the door. Without looking away from the screen the two gave a wave for the person at the door to enter, neither willing to miss the moment when the bonding happened. “What the hell are you two doing?” The two boys started protesting as a feminine shape went and stood in front of the screen.

“Nothing.” The two responded simultaneously, with guilty looking expressions, looking up at Nat. Peter discreetly moved away from Tony, attempting to put some space between him and Nat’s ire.

“For the last time- you can't spy on people without an actual spy assholes!” She whacked Tony on the back of his head, squishing down in between the both of them and stealing Tony's caparison.

The two grinned in delight that they weren't in actual trouble. They settled back to watch the feed, both feeling immense pride at how clever they had been.

“Oh- you two did remember that you actually do have finals and meetings today. Right?” She said casually, opening up a packet of store brought popcorn she’d brought with her.

There was a beat of silence. 'Shit!'

Nat simply settled into the sofa, cracking her neck as she pulled out the $20 Aunt May had left on the table and opened up her phone to find the number for her favourite pizza place.  

Bruce had decided he liked this kid.

He was quiet.

And unlike Tony- didn't prod him with sharp things to get him to transform.

He looked over briefly, just to ensure Harry was actually doing his work and did a double take. The book was in Latin.

Actual Latin.

If he assumed correctly, the book was about Botany and looked pretty damn complicated. Yet Harry was just chilling, reading it with intensity as he highlighted basically everything.

Bruce mused that Harry was like a child when they first discovered highlighter. It was kind of funny. He had a list next to him that he was using to make questions, muttering to himself about something called a “Mione” needing to relax with the catchup work.

“So, Harry. What are you studying?” He asked nervously, coming across to where Harry was. Harry startled as he was brought out of his study mode, looking around for something that wasn't there (you couldn't study in a public place in the Gryffindors Tower without the Weasley Twins pranking you)

“Um, herbs?” Harry said, tilting the book so Bruce could see it. Bruce leaned closer to the diagrams depicting flowers, only to find that yup- definitely not English.

“In Latin?” He said incredulously. Harry looked back at the book, frowning as if surprised that was what Bruce saw, before looking back at the Doctor.

“...Yes. In... Latin.” Harry nodded hesitantly, doing the smile that immediately made Bruce remember this was actually Tony's kid.

Fuck- why did people have to reproduce?

Harry looked back at the book consideringly, huh. So that's what magic looked like to muggles. He knew Hermione had enchanted some of the books she'd packed him to look fine for muggles to look through but... really? Latin?

What if someone in this Tower spoke Latin? Harry immediately dismissed that thought, no one here could do that...

He knew DADA and History of Magic would look normal- they would just see like normal fiction books, but Hermione really needed a refresher on what made a book be considered normal for the average person. He needed to stop being friends with geniuses.

“What are you learning about now?” Bruce asked curiously shoving his glasses back up his nose from when they started to slip forwards. Harry moved over to one side, allowing Bruce to sit down on the work bench with him, an invitation made from hopes of peace. The scientist sat, obviously enraptured by the new source of information.

Harry scanned the page, trying to find a muggle plant, his eyes frantically searching as the silence drew out.

 “Mistletoe.” He finally announced, looking incredibly proud of himself as a smug grin stretched his face.

Boom.

Improv.

He was awesome.

Harry had been trying to catch up from everything he'd missed, the Squib Mercenaries often bringing their magical siblings or parents to the bar to give him lessons on what he should know. Which- oh yeah, was now a regular thing.

Turns out- squibs tend to all know each other, the wizarding world is quite small, the squib world even smaller so, you often know someone who knows someone. Wade described it as such:

It’s like the stereotype that all gay people know each other.

Obviously, that’s not true and they don’t. But- Wade could tell you about every person in his general area that enjoyed iced coffee and Mother Mother. Or every person who wore doc martins and listened to Girl in Red.

Aaaaanywayyyy. (call him, he’s lonely)

The point to this is that, Wade had been out doing his thing (killing people) and he’d started talking to the squib kids he’d saved from trafficking (Example A. that not all murder is wrong... Spideyboy is not going to appreciate that later but Wade has a great ass so whateves), who were talking about how Wizard’s need to be trained because otherwise their magic can get dangerous and start reacting wrong. And he was all like-

‘Omgggggggg, that’s totes good to know. But you guys are like- fairy-godmother with a permanent hangover, so, how do you know this?’

And they were like-

‘You’re so awesome Wade! You don’t look like an avocado fucked a testicle and then set a rapid dog on it. (It’s Wade’s story and this is apparently what happened) We know because our GrandMILF’s (respect your elders), told us. Just because we’re squibs doesn’t mean we don’t know shit.’

So next time Harry went on for a late ass night shift- the only downside to bonding with your family means work becoming a bitch to get to, he was surrounded by witches and wizards who thought he needed to gain some podge.

Harry would never forget the horror on Weasel's face as a seventy-year-old lady asked him to make her a tea and then proceeded to pinch the bar owner's cheeks. Not the ones on his face. Needless to say, Harry only got to keep a quarter of his tips that night.

But back to Bruce.

“Huh. How come.” Bruce asked distractedly, trying to read the words that didn't seem to be staying still. Harry casually closed the book, pulling it closer to him as the scientist snapped back when he realised, he'd been hunched over Harry's work, trying to read it.

“It's... extra credit. We can learn about the difference between Medieval medicine and the plants they use.” Harry was a fantastic liar.

“Fascinating.” Bruce breathed, his hands twitching towards the closed book, pausing when the younger's stomach growled. He remembered Tony's reminder that Harry didn't like telling you if he was hungry. “Do you want to get lunch? I'm really hungry.” Bruce smiled.

“Of course. What would you like me to make?” Harry asked, shoving his books in a neat pile. Bruce chuckled,

“You're what? Fifteen? I've seen Peter in the kitchen, I wouldn't exactly trust any kid around a kitchen after seeing that.” He laughed good-naturedly. Harry frowned, his cooking wasn't that bad, was it? They hadn't seemed to have any complaints before.

“I'll cook.” Bruce explained, shrugging off his lab coat and saving all his data to his computer before leading Harry out of the lab to the kitchen.

Harry shrugged; it was quite nice to only have to cook one meal a day instead of three. He could do some cleaning to keep his privileges for necessities in the afternoon, before dinner. They walked in silence until they reached their destination.

“What do you want to eat?” Bruce asked, shuffling around the cupboards. Harry fidgeted, completely uncomfortable with someone else cooking for him. He was an adult. He was fully capable of looking after himself.

“Dunno.” Harry mumbled, ruffling his hair to shake off his nerves. Bruce gave another slight chuckle,

“I feel like that's a reoccurring theme here. How about grilled chicken sandwiches?” Bruce suggested. Harry nodded amicably. “Oh, and sit down will you. I'll have this done in no time, don't worry.” Bruce shot a smile his way.

As Bruce fired up the pan and lined up the spices he planned to use, Harry ran a critical eye over each one. Bruce was obviously influenced by Asian cuisine. Soy sauce, sesame oil and garlic where all visible to Harry's eye.

Harry experienced a mild eye tic as he realised Bruce would need to include honey and fresh ginger root to make the flavour truly pop.

Harry held his breath as he waited for Bruce to take the honey out of the cabinet, silently screaming at him to do so but the man just closed the doors and went to wash his hands.

It was a no go.

Harry rested his arms on the table, his leg shaking from more than the increase of walking it had had to do since Azkaban. Bruce had finished marinating the chicken. As the eye twitching got worse, Harry ran a hand across his face, letting his arm prop his chin up and used the casual gesture as an opportunity to pull his mouth down in horror, covered by his hand, as he watched Bruce lay the chicken in the pan on a low flame. Harry breathed out slowly. It was not a big deal. He had eaten average food for years at the Dursleys, and then he hadn’t been allowed to eat any foreign food in their perfectly normal kitchen. Sneers of how, ‘none of that smelly shit that boy’s Father probably scoffed in his boat over here’ would ever contaminate Uncle Vernon’s kitchen making their way over to Harry when Dudley had asked to order a curry one evening, echoed in Harry’s mind. But Bruce wasn’t like that. Bruce might not mind if Harry just… but no. Bruce was cooking. He would let the man cook for him. No one liked a backseat driver.  

Fuck it, Molly would smack him with a wooden spoon if he didn’t. Using the wisdom of Molly Weasley’s great cooking lessons, Harry fortified himself and with a determined nod, put his plan into action. He was the Wizarding World’s Saviour. And today- he would save that chicken.

Harry slid out of the countertop stool he'd been sitting in and went to the cabinet under the guise of getting water as he watched the chicken cook.

“Dr Banner? Would you like me to get you a drink?” Harry asked. The man looked up from where he'd been mixing the ingredients together in preparation for the sauce to pour over the chicken.

“Oh, thanks Harry. Actually, let me go downstairs quickly, I have a smoothie I'm drinking.” He shot a reassuring smile, fully intending to call Tony again and beg him to pick up the child before Hulk decides to play.

Harry gave a faint smile, watching the man make his way to the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, he pounced. Feeling like an evil genius as he pranced around the kitchen, he mixed the missing ingredients together and poured them over the chicken, pressing down on them slightly to ensure they got golden brown, whilst turning up the flame. He grabbed some baguette he knew they'd have and threw them in the oven to warm them up quickly, wetting them slightly to keep them moist and crunchy. Grabbing a knife and some coriander he turned around and froze.

There, looking at him with an expression of absolute betrayal was Bucky James Barnes.

“You...” Bucky whispered. Bucky's eyes where wide in surprise, looking slightly like he was prepared to fight for the title of Avenger's Chief but also confused about who he was supposed to actually fight.

“Me?” Harry asked stupefied.

“You... you can cook.” Bucky said dumbly.

“Well, not well. Just enough to get through day-to-day life.” Harry shrugged. Still keeping the disinterested expression on his face, he flipped the knife in the air, catching it with one hand and chopping the herbs with finesse and speed. Bucky slowly looked down at the way Harry professionally chopped up the herbs and then back up again just quickly enough to see the slight smirk be concealed.

Bucky swallowed, his throat feeling dry. He could cook.

Then he frowned,

The bastard could cook.

“Blueberries.” He growled.

“No... coriander.” Harry grabbed the aforementioned chopped herbs, placing them in a neat pile as he checked the chicken. Deeming it cooked, he turned the heat off, removing the now warm bread and slicing it open, placing a thin layer of mayonnaise on the bread before placing the meat in it.

“No. Blueberries.” Barnes repeated.

Harry looked at him confused, making three plates since there was a third. He slid the plate Bucky's way, which the man just stared at.

“What about blueberries?” Harry asked befuddled.

“You. You cooked with the damn berries.” Bucky growled. I've got you now, Bucky thought with glee, thinking of all the lavish apologies Steve would throw down at his feet. All the Russian films Sam would let him watch for the slander he so cruelly threw at him. His revenge was due. And it tasted like mother-fucking blueberries.

“I'm allergic... to blueberries.” Harry said slowly. Bucky leaned back in surprise, his mind coming to a grinding stop.

“But… blueberries?” Bucky said desperately.

“What are you talking about?” Harry tilted his head to one side. Just then, Bruce came back into the room, smiling as he saw the two in the kitchen.

“Oh, Bucky! Thanks for helping out with lunch!” Bruce said sincerely, clapping his friend on the back.

“But... but I didn't do anything. I didn’t cook this.” Bucky disagreed mourningly, knowing it was useless. Bruce gave a humouring smile,

“Sure, you didn’t.”

Bucky gave a yowl of frustration, getting up and leaving, before doubling back and grabbing the sandwich, pointedly not looking at Harry, who was smugly eating his food. Motherfucking Brat.

Bruce looked at his friend leave the room with concern.

“Well... I guess that's just Bucky.” He said shrugging, his eyebrows shooting up in surprised delight as he ate his food.

“Hey! This tastes better than usual!” Bruce grinned around his mouthful of food. Harry gave him a judgy look but said nothing owing to hearing Ron’s voice explaining that not everything in the world needs to be a chance to show off a person’s Inner Hermione. Inner Hermione voices tend to light Professors on fire. Inner Hermione should only come out for special occasions not to insult someone’s food because that- is rude. Remembering this from the last time Harry had made a point to spit out Draco’s experiment of Wine Gums in a Microwave, rather than the Ron reaction which had involved kindly congratulating him for using muggle cooking methods, Harry chose to carefully take another bite. Bruce swallowed his bite and looked at Harry,

“So, how are you liking it here?” Bruce asked. Harry slowly chewed the bite of his sandwich as he decided what to say.

“I still want to go home. It's always on the back of my mind that I shouldn't be here but- it's nice. Different but...nice. I miss my family though.” He shrugged, looking down at his plate. Bruce grimaced,

“I'm sorry pal. But this could be your home?” Bruce had no idea what to say. This kid wanted to go back to a cult for god’s sake!

This is why he didn't talk to people, science made much more sense. Science didn’t try and join cults!

“Sure.” Harry said distractedly, his mind wandering off to think about Sirius and Remus. He’d started talking to them every day at the same time and he already missed them. Bruce gave a pitying smile,

“You really miss them huh?” Bruce said, not sure how to console him.

Family isn’t a place; it’s the people in it. If they were here, it would be fine, but they’re on the other side of the ocean. And they’re my home.” He admitted quietly. The rest of lunch passed quickly.

Tony’s meeting went by at a snail’s pace as he watched what was going on in the kitchen from the mini screen Friday was showing him on his Stark Glasses.

He had a plan.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

"Sup, Angel."

Weasel nodded as Harry walked into the bar, clearly sulking. He shot the owner an irritated glare in response, stomping his feet with each step and sliding himself into a bar seat. Weasel winced, and a few of the regulars looked over curiously at the boy. Weasel looked up to the sky, wondering how he had been tasked with handling a moody teenager, when he had purposely sworn off children for this exact reason.

"Don't call me that." Harry growled, burying his head in the crook of his elbow. Weasel slung the rag he'd been using to shine glasses over his shoulder and perched against the other side of the bar. The bar owner opened his mouth, considering the merrits of mentioning that Harry could sulk after completing the chores that Weasel was paying him to do, before deciding to utilise those self-preservation skills that made him so successful at handling a bar filled with mercenaries.

"Why not? You don't seem to die... they can't die..."

"Weasel, I am this close to the edge. Piss off." Harry warned through gritted teeth. Wade approached him in a subdued manner, dressed in civilian clothes.

"Bad night?"

Harry gave a choked, watery laugh. "I just got given a whole speech about how I shouldn't have been carved into, and they then proceeded to spend the whole night telling me how they got theirs, which just made me realise they'll never catch up to the shit ton I seem to have" Harry responded, looking challengingly at Wade, daring him to try and make the situation better. The bar went silent, but Harry didn't care, too caught up in the Avengers trying to make him feel better and failing.

"Well," Wade started awkwardly, "You'll never catch up to my beauty contest winner of a face." Harry ignored him. 

"They were like, 'Oh yeah, I got this one sitting on a stove.' They wanna talk about burn scars? I have one from trying to outrun a damn dragon and another from when my aunt threw cooking oil at me because I burnt the bacon. Like—shit. Scars are a part of life, I get that, but I don't want—" He gave a muffled scream of frustration, and Weasel and Wade shared a look that suggested they should find whoever his family was and have a little chat.

"I'm sure they didn't mean it from a bad place." TJ slid over to where they sat, a beer firmly grasped in his hand. "I think... I think they thought normalising having scars would help?"

Harry considered before shaking his head. "Don't think they realised having the worst memories of your life permanently branded on you isn't the same as a silly mistake."

"Civilians never realise." He pressed his lips together before taking a swing of beer. Harry snorted — they weren't exactly civilians. But Harry couldn't help but see the differences. Tony and Bucky specifically have the worst day of their lives permanently written into their bodies, and their way of coping with it was through making light of it. But they were able to do so because they'd had enough therapy and healing time that they could. Harry was still coming to terms with the fact that what happened to him wasn't okay.

"Yeah — very true." He said instead, grumbling to himself about how he just wanted a nap.

Weasel rolled his eyes. "I don't pay you to mope around. Lament about how shitty life was to you on time when I'm not paying you. Not on my precious money."

TJ glared at him, wanting to parent the kid a bit more, but before he could interject, Wade started choking on a nut as he realised something. "Hey, Harry? Whose jacket is that?"

Wade gestured with his hand as he realised the leather jacket Harry was wearing was way too big to be Harry's.

"Oh, it's my dad's roommate's. It was really weird — he refused to take it back. He muttered something, but the asshole looked so smug I couldn't even hear it beyond the roaring in my head to punch him." He shrugged, hoping they'd just leave it at that.

"Right... and why did he give it to you in the first place?" Weasel asked, with a suggestive expression that Harry didn't pick up on.

"He realised I was cold." Harry explained, not realising the look the three mercenaries shared.

"He gave you his jacket... because you were cold and then refused to take it back, looking smug... while looking at you wearing his clothes?" Weasel asked for clarity in disbelief. Surely Harry wasn't this obtuse.

"Yeah. Just dropped it over my shoulders." Harry said casually.

"And, uh... how old is your dad's roommate?" Wade asked with a fake smile.

"Like... twenty-one?" The three narrowed their eyes.

"And you are...?"

"Sixteen? I swear you guys knew this already." Harry asked, confused. TJ gave a strangled smile.

"Just wanted to make sure."

"This isn't going to be like my trial where people keep forgetting my age, is it?"

The mercenaries didn't reply, each having a dark look pass across their faces as they were reminded that a fifteen-year-old had been sentenced to prison for something he didn't even do.

"Well, you keep growing. It's hard for us to remember." TJ sassed. Harry looked like he was about to ask more questions, so TJ continued on. "Do you want to have a playdate with Lissy?" He asked, turning to the boy who had gotten up from his stool to start trudging over to the working side of the bar to look at the list of shit he needed to do.

"I'm sixteen! I don't have playdates!" He protested.

"Fine. Do you want to babysit Lissy? I want to take my girl out for dinner, and I'd prefer my kid to be well protected when I'm not there." TJ said casually. "Oh — and it pays." He added, hiding his smug smile behind his beer, knowing full well Harry wouldn't say no, with or without pay.

"Fine. Text me the time and date. Weasel has my number." He sighed, disappearing behind the kitchen doors to get started on the dishes.

"Wade." TJ began sweetly, taking out his gun and resting it on the table, facing the infamous mercenary. "Why the fuck has Angel been mutilated? Body modification is supposed to be fun — not a drawing ground for carving lessons."

Wade shrugged, as Weasel watched silently. "You think I know? That kid has fucked up priorities when it comes to what counts as bad. You heard the stories; you know some of the shit he's apparently been through."

"Yeah, well, I thought a lot of it was made up. Until a few minutes ago, I thought him fighting a dragon was made up, except apparently, it very much happened!" He whisper-shouted.

"Look — he's babysitting Lissy, probably, right? So just get her to interrogate him. He'll never expect it." Weasel popped in. Wade and TJ nodded consideringly. "Now buy a damn beer, this isn't a gossiping salon." Weasel punctuated that with a snap of his fingers, and both TJ and Wade handed over some money, both grumbling about how they preferred it when Harry was their server.

"So, we're not going to bring up that a twenty-one-year-old seems to be sweet on a kid?" TJ said incredulously as Weasel passed him another beer.

"Oh, we are. But we need to make sure we're not misreading it first. And Harry is technically an adult in the Wizarding World in a month." Weasel shrugged, trying to appear apathetic when he was equally concerned.

"Yeah — I'm still quite a big fan of the 'no dating anyone until you're at least eighteen' rule. America fucked up on a lot of rules, but I have to say, they got that right. Especially not a damned twenty-one-year-old man! Do we even know if he swings that way?" TJ said quietly, trying not to alert Harry from where he was washing the dishes on the other side of a thin door.

Both Wade and Weasel shot him a deadpan look. "Have you seen Harry? The jeans are cuffed every time he comes."

"That's a generalisation and a stereotype. Not to mention his jeans are huge, so he has to cuff them or he'd trip." TJ rebutted.

"Well, he sure has spent a damn long amount of time talking about this Ginny girl and Bucky Barnes to be straight. Doesn't even realise the amount of poetry he waxes about them both. Quite cute, actually, our little murder muffin has a crush on the most famous murder muffin." Wade said sweetly. It was adorable to be honest. Every few shifts, Harry would start lamenting about the Winter Soldier and how his arm had no right to look so shiny and his hair looked really soft... all while being so deep in denial he covered up these compliments with insults.

Really, really bad insults. There was no way Harry would know that the Winter Soldier was a fussy eater when it came to blueberries.

They all took a contemplative sip of their beer and thought about what to do.

Harry, on the other side of the door, making sure no one could see him, briefly nosed the collar, smiling slightly as the smell he was now starting to associate with Barnes was concentrated enough for his head to feel full of it. His reaction had nothing to do with the super soldier, of course, it was obviously because he simply just really appreciated plums, old shaving cream and leather.

The rest of the shift was normal, ending with Harry throwing out many drunkards on their arses and quite spiffed that he got to join — sorry, break up — a bar fight. He trudged home, exhausted and looking at the clock stating it was 2AM, hating life as he realised he had to get up in a few hours to make breakfast.

Without changing out of his clothes, he collapsed on his bed and fell right asleep.

That was a problem for Future Harry.

Tony was a massive cheapskate.

Harley wanted that on record.

The fucker couldn't even get him a taxi. Harley would have settled for a private jet, but apparently that    was not an option for his favourite teen either. Harley was distantly aware that he would have needed to have told Tony he was coming early (because his mom had decided to fuck off to the Bahamas with a random guy she decided she loves, and Abby was with a fancy friend visiting Spain) for him to have gotten him a taxi, but that point was irrelevant because it didn't allow Harley the proper justification for the teen angst he was feeling.

Which led to Harley having to sharepool an Uber.

Now, Harley didn't like advocating this, but he was actually country boy. Shocking — he knows. He lived on the edge of Tennessee where everyone knew everyone, so sharing an Uber with a stranger was a big no-go for him. But it was cheaper and he was broke, so...

The Uber had picked him and the people he was sharing with up at the airport, and Harley was man enough to admit that he had audibly swallowed when the Uber stopped to pick up the other passengers. They hadn't been anything special, just a family who had decided to accompany the dad on his work trip. It was quite sweet, to be honest, the mom and son all excited about this amazing business opportunity — but it was nice to see them all so close. The family got dropped off at the hotel they were staying at, relatively close to the Avengers Tower, as most tourists chose to.

Harley got out there too, knowing that it was better to keep his staying at the tower on the down low. He started walking and swung his carry-on around in excitement, only for it to reach resistance. He looked up to see a flash of fear on a passer-by’s face as they lost their balance and started to fall onto oncoming traffic.

"Shit!"

He yelped as he grabbed the pressed collar of the preppy teen, yanking him back to safety. Unfortunately, causing the pedestrian to regain his balance meant Harley lost his own, the weight of his bags causing him to fall on the ground.

Harley looked up to see a rather angular teen, all pale skin and white hair, looking down at him with distaste. He kept looking behind himself at the cars, looking slightly green. When he realised Harley was looking at him, he schooled his expression into something more snooty, attempting to seem unaffected by the ordeal.

"Dear Merlin — the amount of commonwealth here is abhorrent." The stranger was british. Blondie looked down at where Harley was sprawled on his arse. "I don't expect you think I'm going to offer you a hand up now, do you?" He sniffed. Harley was going to beat his ass. It didn't matter if it was a nice one.

"Wow," Harley muttered, squinting up at him, "you're like if Google translated ‘coloniser’ into a person. And, sorry, didn't mean to fall when you bumped into me!" He grouched. Blondie looked taken aback.

"You bumped into me!" Harley opened his mouth to retort that but realised that, yeah... posh boy had a point. If Harley hadn't swung his bag around, the blonde bint wouldn't have nearly been pushed onto oncoming traffic. Well, this was New York, traffic was something the country boy had had to get used to, Mr Britain could as well.

"Yeah... actually I have to give it to you, you're right." He nodded in apology. Blondie looked apprehensive, as if not used to people not arguing with him.

"Of course I'm right." He scoffed, making Harley grin. Blondie was an asshole just like him from what he could see. And he wasn't bad looking. Not sure if he was Harley's type though.

"I'm Harley, by the way. Feel like you might want to know the name of the guy who almost caused you to become a pancake." He grinned. The other boy didn't look impressed.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He gave a short nod.

"That a common name in Britain?" He asked, pushing himself off the ground as he started to get odd looks from people as he lay on the floor.

"Obviously not. My mother would never name me something common like... Harry. That's a very ugly name, for example." He said, looking incredibly smug for some reason, as if he’d just given a very cool burn to someone. "In fact, some might say that it was very brave to name a child that." 

Harley squinted. "You just publicly roasted some guy who isn't even here."

Draco shrugged delicately. "It's a talent. Besides, he deserves it. He knows what he did."

"Huh." Harley officially wanted to leave this conversation. "So, uh, nice meeting you, try not to fall into traffic?" Harley said, hoisting his bag further onto his shoulder from where it had fallen during the collision.

"Indeed." Draco sniffed, eying Harley's dirt covered hand in distaste. "Try not to push anyone." Draco said with a fake smile. They both started walking in the direction they needed to go, both giving each other odd looks as they kept going in the same direction.

"Err. I thought this was where we parted ways?" Harley said, terrified he'd just saved a stalker. Oh well, that would show Tony not to let him travel by himself.

"My thoughts exactly so... piss off." Draco scowled.

"Right..." They kept walking in the same direction, both shooting looks as they kept taking the same turns.

"This is awkward." Harley announced as Draco shot him a look of resignation as they both turned left.

"Only if you keep talking." Draco gritted out. He kept looking around wildly, constantly darting his gaze around his surroundings. He looked terrified, and Harley remembered he was probably a tourist.

"So, what brings you to New York?" Harley said awkwardly, deciding they might as well bond.

"I prefer to ponder my bad decisions that led me to this dreadful world in silence, thank you." Draco fumed, before jumping in fear as a manhole released smoke. "By Morgana's left tit, why are there dragon's under us!"

"Sir," Harley began in shock, "thats a manhole." Draco hummed uncertainly, his hands twitching as if wanting to grab something. Harley very kindly ignored the dragon comment; this wasn't the first person he met who was chronically online and he wouldn't be surprised if that was new lingo for dnd. 

"Yes, very well, I knew that." Draco eyed the buildings around him in distaste.

"Not a fan of the city?" Harley assumed.

"No." Draco said shortly. "But my idiot brother got sent here by my cousin to keep him away from things at home, only to end up somehow managing to find trouble once again. And now, because I am apparently a glorified babysitter, I must enquire over his safety."  

"I get you. My brother Peter? Holy shit — he can't stay out of trouble, and everyone always thinks it’s my fault because he has damn puppy eyes." He snorted, remembering how Peter was the biggest little shit, yet no one ever believed that he could do something like that.

"Trust me, Harry attracts more trouble." Draco said with a pompous air. Harley gave a huff of laughter.

"Nah, trust me, Pete is the biggest damn magnet for trouble there is, even more than your Harry."

"Want to bet." Draco breathed under his breath.

They approached the Avengers Tower, both clearly expecting the other to keep walking. Draco didn't really hesitate in entering, but Harley followed in surprise as the blonde entered the tower.

"You're going to the Avengers Tower?" Harley asked in surprise.

"Apparently the father works here." Draco said, not exactly impressed by the infrastructure. Sure, the odd lights were interesting, but he refused to admit that anything muggle was better than wizard. Miss Hermione Granger might not be here, but he had the feeling she'd know if he yielded on his view for even a second. The glorious bint might hate Divination but she was surely a Seerer in a past life.

"Huh. My dad works here as well. Who you looking for? I might know them or at least make it easier to find them." Harley shrugged, trying to be helpful and definitely not interested in the possibility of drama at two half-brothers (he's assuming) reuniting and meeting the estranged father.

"Don't worry about it. I have a plan." Draco brushed him off. He walked to the front desk, and within seconds he was being redirected to the private elevator. At this, Harley started to become slightly nervous. How the hell did he get through security measures so quickly?

Years down the line, Draco would answer this question by puffing his chest in pride at being incredibly morally grey and having cast a slight Imperio on the security guard to give him any passcodes he might need to see his brother. It's fine, Harry didn't need to know about his slight invasion of privacy. Harley ran after Draco, incredibly curious about who the hell this teen was. He stuck his hand in the elevator before it closed, entering and ignoring the sigh Draco gave as he realised he still had company. 

"How the hell did you get in here? This is only for top levels." Harley demanded. Draco looked him up and down and sneered.

"You mean how did I get into this evil contraction?"

"Obviously."

"I asked the rather ordinary man at the desk and then walked. Surely the concept is not abstract to mug—Americans." He uttered the word as if it was a curse.

Harley glared at the twat who might be a bigger asshole than even him. "I don't like you." He announced. Draco smirked.

"Oh dear, whatever shall I do? Might I suggest adding you to the list of those who wish me harm?" Draco gave a sardonic smile. Harley spluttered.

"Having been in the pleasure of your company, I don't doubt there is a list."

"Why you little cu—" The doors opened to the common room and both hot-headed teens stormed out, yelling for their respective family.

"TONY!"

"POTTER!"

Sam, who had been about to pass the common room to get into the kitchen for breakfast, saw the two teens who were both red in the face and slowly retreated. He had already dealt with Tony having discovered Harry. Whoever that blonde boy was, Sam didn't want to be there if the other kid turned out to be another long-lost spawn. Tony entered first, Friday having obviously alerted him as soon as Harley entered the building.

"Harley! I just got an alert you were in the build—" He stopped dead. His eyes shifted to the blond boy standing next to Harley like an offended aristocratic cat. "—and Random Victorian Ghost Child. Hi. Why are you yelling in my building?"

Harley jabbed a thumb at Draco. "This— this walking cologne ad followed me up here."

Draco let out a slow breath through his nose. "I did not follow you. If anything, you attached yourself like an overenthusiastic barnacle."

"Barnacle? Who the hell says barnacle as an insult?"

"People with vocabulary."

Tony held up both hands. "Okay. Pause. Timeout. Why do I feel like I just walked into a British reboot of myself arguing with myself?"

Neither teen acknowledged him.

"Harles, is this your boyfriend?" He asked, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinised the blond boy. Bit fancy for the rather down-to-earth boy, but meh. Tony’s gaze flicked between the blonde's expensive coat and Harley’s offended face. "Be honest, you two meet on some pretentious boarding school app? 'Find your emotionally unavailable rival in your area'?"

 They both growled in annoyance, the blonde boy taking a deep breath before shouting at, quite frankly, an impressive volume.

"POTTER! GET YOUR SCRAWNY GRYFFINDOR ARSE DOWN HERE THIS SECOND, BEFORE I START CRUCIO-ING THE MUGGLES!" He bellowed, his fair complexion turing a bright red.

Harley heard the stomping of footprints and soon a small teen — Potter, most likely — scampered into the kitchen.

"Draco!" The new arrival asked incredulously, his eyes blown wide.

"Evidently. Surely the muggles haven't caused your memory to rescind along with your fashion." He said with what looked like a cruel smile.

Except the boy gave a startled laugh and hurled himself forwards, leaping into Draco's arms with a choked sob. His legs locked around Draco's waist, his arms curled around Draco's neck in what looked like a crushing grasp. Harley gave an impressed tilt of his head as the blonde boy didn't even stagger or flinch at the added weight, just hugging back with the same desperation. The stuck-up boy had scrunched his eyes shut with the overwhelming emotion he felt, commanding the tears that    threatened to showcase his weakness away, trying to focus on the points of contact he held with Harry.

It had been... hard to be forced to leave his closest friend so soon after getting him back.

Harry's voice was muffled as he burrowed his face in Draco's chest, sounding impossibly small. "I thought I'd never see you again. Thought you'd be killed, and I'd be too far away to do anything." He admitted. Draco stroked the boy's hair, giving a small smile so tender Harley felt as if he were imposing on a private moment. This was a far reach from the snake-sharp-tongued boy he'd met earlier.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco asked softly, something more in those casual words. Harry didn't move from his position, although he tilted his head slightly to give a sharp bite at the barb, causing Draco to flick his forehead in annoyance as teeth bit down on him.

"You wish." The words were a promise. Draco huffed a laugh.

"Harley. Why does your boyfriend know my son?" Tony asked in shock at the hugging duo. Harry leaned back, surveying Harley with a critical eye.

"Boyfriend?" Harry snorted.

"Son!" Harley screeched, pointing at Harry. Tony winced.

"Errr, this wasn't exactly how I thought you would both meet but, um, surprise," Tony gave an uncomfortable smile, adding jazz hands. "It's a boy." He finished lamely. Harley stared at him in disbelief, his bags forgotten on the floor and his left eye twitching.

"Your brother's dad is Tony?" Harley swirled around, giving an accusing glare to Draco, who just rolled his eyes and continued petting Harry's hair, before descretely pulling a hand away and wipping it on his suit trousers. Draco would never understand what Harry did to always get his hair so filled with static.

Tony felt a pang as he realised that the Harry all of the Avengers had gotten used to seeing was a very much redacted version. Apart from the one time in which Harry had been given a room, they hadn't hugged, hadn't been treated to anything much, apart from sarcasm, deflection and anger. And yet, this boy who was so different to Harry, a boy who only seemed to give biting wit and cruel smiles, this boy was the one who was allowed to hug him for so long, sharing an intimacy that Tony could only wish for.

That pang turned to confusion as he realised Harley had just indirectly told Tony that this blond boy was apparently Harry's brother.

"I have another son?" Tony said with apprehension. The blond boy gave a refined laugh, as if Tony was a child he was humouring.

"As if you could create a child as... magical-" Harry elbowed him in the stomach, "- stop it you evil bastard." Draco flicked Harry before straightening up. "That was just a little fib to disarm you. It would be terribly awkward if Harry was my brother." He said with a casual air. Harley started to roll up his sleeves preparing for a fight.

Tony cleared his throat loudly. "Hi. Hello. I’m still here. Also—" he pointed between them, "—explain."

Harry leaned back slightly but didn’t let go of Draco’s hand. "Tony. This is Draco."

Draco gave Tony a slow, assessing look. "Mr Stark."

Tony narrowed his eyes right back. "Blondie."

Harley snapped his fingers. "Ha. I’ve been calling him that too."

Draco ignored him. "I assume you are the parental unit responsible for this reckless relocation."

Tony blinked. "Reckless— okay, first of all, relocation makes it sound like I kidnapped him. He lives here. Voluntarily. Mostly voluntarily."

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand. "It’s fine."

Draco looked at him sharply. "Define fine."

"Harles. I know this is a lot, but it's been a long-ass time since I saw you last... you going to give your old man a hug?" He stepped forward, causing Harley to quirk a grin and rush into his arms.

"Apparently you're not just my old man anymore." He said with a teasing but inquisitive smile. A smile which held hidden hurt. With both Starks wrapped up in their respective families' arms, they turned to look at each other.

"So, uh, who's Blondie?" Tony asked, extremely curious about how close his kid seemed to be with this other teen. Shit — does Harry have a boyfriend? Does that mean Tony has to give The Talk? Tony's stomach rolled at the prospect.

"This is Draco." Harry said with a massive beam.

"I'll be staying here for the foreseeable future. I understand you may not have a guest wing considering your humble routes, so a private corridor with a connecting door to Harry's will service me well." Draco cut in, causing Harry to snap his head around to look at him. They had a conversation with their eyes which Tony couldn't hope to understand before Harry turned back to look at Tony, gripping Draco's hand in what must have been a punishing grip, yet the other boy didn't complain.

"And what makes you so sure of that ?" Tony snorted, crossing his arms at the decisive boy. Of course, Tony had already decided that the boy — Draco — would be staying with them. He was seemingly a link to Harry's past and Tony knew he could try and learn more about his boy that way. And if he ended up needing to interrogate Draco because of something fishy, well, it would be easier to know exactly where he was.

However, at his words, Draco seemed to pull himself up. Tony was well versed in powerful men, he was, after all, one himself, but this boy seemed to think he had a power that Tony didn't. The way he fixed his laples, turning to face Harry as he spoke, brushing some invisible lint of Tony's son's shoulders. "Because should you not conceed to grant me my request, I shall leave with Harry this instant." He said simply, still not turning to face Tony. It was purposeful, as if trying to convey in a simple way, exactly where the boy thought Tony stood as a threat.

Tony’s jaw ticked. "You are in my tower, wearing my oxygen, threatening to steal my kid like this is some kind of dramatic custody hearing, and you haven't even had a tour."

Draco finally turned his head, cool grey eyes meeting Tony’s. "You are under the impression Harry is something you can ‘have’, Mr Stark. That is your first mistake."

"Bit presumptuous to be so sure he'd want to leave." Tony argued.

"Trust me, Mr Stark," Draco growled out the formality, wielding it like a weapon, "when it comes to it, you don't want to know what will happen if Harry is forced to pick between me and you."

"What makes you so sure he'd go with you?"

"I would." Harry said quietly, a guilty admission. Tony watched his son remove himself slightly from the embrace yet keep one of Draco's hands tight in his own. Harry looked at him with a resigned sorrow, as if he were steadfast in his decision but unwilling to break this fragile peace they held. "He's Draco." He confessed, as if that solved anything. There was a brief silence. Harley shifted his weight awkwardly, feeling like he was eavesdropping on a conversation he hadn't agreed to witness.

"So," he said weakly, "this is… fun family vibes. I love this. Definitely not gonna talk about this in therapy later." Tony looked between the two, contemplating, before giving in. He understood teenage love, how strong it could be.

"Fine. You'll have to stay on one of the guest floors though."

"Could he stay in my room?" Harry cut in with sad eyes. Tony squirmed, not wanting to let his kid share a room with his apparent boyfriend but knowing he was going to. Tony stared at Draco, feeling the urge to scream as he saw the blonde boy meet his gaze with an insufferable smugness.

"Fine." He relented, ripping his eyes from the most pretentious teenager he'd ever met. Tony ran his hands through his hair, calming himself down. "You two are okay with sharing a bed?" He made sure, looking directly at Harry. Harry nodded eagerly and Tony sighed deeply. Well, he wanted to get to know his son better; apparently, dealing with his asshole boyfriend was part of that. "Can you show him to your room? I need to catch everyone up with the new development. Harley, you're with me until Peter arrives in, like, an hour." He added.

Harley groaned. "Great. Debrief with Dad about Surprise Brother and his emotionally intense British barnacle. Exactly how I wanted to start my visit."

"You will cope," Draco said airily, already steering Harry toward the corridor. "If you survive Mr Stark on a daily basis, this should be a pleasant downgrade."

"Hey!" Tony protested. "I am at least an upgrade to whatever dragon-infested sewer system you crawled out of."

Draco didn’t bother turning around. "You have not met my father."

Tony hated teenagers.

As soon as the door to Harry’s room clicked shut, the sound of the latch sliding into place seemed to release something in both of them.

Draco closed the distance first.

There was no dramatic pause, no clever comment, just arms wrapping around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him in with a grip that was almost bruising. Harry stepped into it without hesitation, hands fisting into the back of Draco’s shirt like he was anchoring himself to something solid.

Draco’s wand was already out and Harry huffed in annoyance. Luckily, the Boy Who Lived understood this was not a battle he could win.

The spells came automatically. Diagnostic charms layered over one another: pulse, core temperature, residual curse traces, skeletal stress, nerve strain. It had become muscle memory years ago. In Fourth year. It had been Ron's idea; the stupid Gryffindor had been the most hesitant to ignore his best friend's flinches. The bruises Harry had laughed off. Cuts he hadn’t explained. And the night after Harry had been released from Azkaban had confirmed it. The night when they’d taken shifts through the night because Harry’s body had forgotten how to regulate itself and they’d been terrified he’d simply stop. It had been a... trying night.

Harry stood perfectly still while the magic washed over him. He didn’t tease. Didn’t deflect. He just let Draco check. Draco’s shoulders dropped a fraction when the results settled into place in his mind. Stable. Malnourished still, Draco noted with irritation. But improving. Magic intact. No fresh trauma. He exhaled slowly into Harry’s hair.

"You've gained weight," Draco said with a bright smile, though his eyes were still scanning for signs of strain beneath the surface of Harry’s skin. Harry may still be underweight, but he no longer resembled the prisoner he had once been. "I suppose muggles are capable of basic nutritional competence after all, which is more than I expected from this universe."

Harry shoved the blonde with more familiarity than force. "Careful. You’re insulting my landlord."

Draco shot a light stinging hex at his shoulder out of instinct, following it immediately with a heating charm that sank into Harry’s chest and spread outward. Harry yelped, then visibly relaxed as warmth seeped through him.

"Bugger off. Just you wait; now that I’m here, you’ll be at a healthy weight in no time, whether you like it or not. I refuse to let you resemble something that crawled out of a Dickens novel again."

Harry huffed faintly against his chest. "Romantic."

"I’m serious." Draco pulled back just enough to examine him properly, hands still firm on his arms. "You no longer resemble a Victorian orphan on the brink of collapse. It’s… refreshing." Seeing Harry shudder in relief as some tension flowed out of his shoulders, Draco narrowed his eyes. "Still can’t maintain temperature."

Harry shrugged. "Azkaban fucked up my circulation. They told me it might. Nerve damage, metabolic regulation — all that fun stuff."

Draco’s jaw tightened. He didn’t comment on the casual tone. "That explains the hoodie in twenty-seven degrees," he said instead, reinforcing the warming charm more deliberately, letting the magic sink deeper this time. Harry visibly loosened under it.

"You’d think someone would’ve questioned that by now," Harry muttered, dropping onto the bed and sitting cross-legged. "But apparently I just look like someone who makes questionable fashion choices."

"They have no baseline," Draco replied, sitting beside him. "They don’t know what you looked like before. They don’t know what to compare you to." He hesitated, then added dryly, "Although, even if they did, the day you resemble anything other than a fashion disaster is the day I eat my wand and thank Merlin for the miracle."

Harry snorted. "Fair."

Draco reached up without thinking and ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, checking for thinning, breakage, stress loss. The strands were longer again. Healthier. "Nothing about what happened to you was fair," Draco said quietly.

Harry flopped backward onto the mattress with exaggerated drama. "Draco, please. We’ve discussed this. It happened. We survived. We are, collectively, a therapist’s wet dream. Growth. Healing. Trauma bonding. Insert inspirational music here."

Draco stood abruptly on the bed, glaring down at him. "You have become insufferably sassy."

Harry grinned up at him. "Call the police. Draco Malfoy can’t handle the vibes."

Draco stared. "Not a single word in that sentence was recognisable English. What in Merlin's green field is a 'vibe'." He dropped down beside him, studying Harry’s face more carefully now.

He shifted onto his forearms beside Harry. "You haven’t been taking care of your hair. It is tangled again, and I distinctly remember how long it took to repair the damage after Azkaban."

"You haven’t been taking care of yourself," Harry countered quietly, giving Draco a slow once-over that lingered a fraction too long on the stiffness in his shoulders and the faint shadows beneath his eyes.

Draco ignored the comment and adjusted his cuffs with unnecessary precision, pulling his shirt down from where it had come untucked during their earlier embrace.

Harry pinched his thigh sharply.

"Draco. You didn’t do anything wrong."

Draco’s expression shuttered instantly. He adjusted his shirt cuffs instead. Harry reached out and pinched his thigh sharply.

"Draco."

"I’m fine."

"You’re not." Draco did not respond. "Draco. You didn’t do anything wrong."

Draco laughed once, sharp and brittle. "My father did. The only reason he defended you was because I promised I’d get the damn Dark Mark, Harry. Do you understand what that means? I made that bargain knowing precisely what I was signing up for."

Harry’s breath caught, his eyes drifting to Draco’s left forearm beneath the immaculate white fabric.

"Draco?" The name carried the question he didn’t want to voice.

"Don’t," Draco snapped, sitting upright. "You know better than anyone that sometimes you can’t choose the people who love you any more than you can change the minds of people who should love you but don’t. My father is not a good man, but he is not incompetent. He calculates. I offered him leverage, and he took it."

Draco laughed once, brittle.

"Oh, don’t look at me like that. You of all people know how this works. Sometimes you can’t choose the people who love you. Sometimes you can’t fix the ones who should."

Harry absorbed that in silence, his mind tracing back through courtrooms and prison cells and whispered negotiations he had only seen the surface of. Lucius had defended Harry in court. Of course he had. It had been politically advantageous. Publicly magnanimous. The perfect way to appear reasonable. He had considered what might have been traded for Harry to have representation. 

He had not considered that Draco might have been the currency.

"You think the Mark means something about you," Harry said carefully. "You think it defines you."

"It does define me," Draco shot back, voice cracking despite his effort to keep it controlled.

"You did it for me! How can that    be bad? What do you think you're condemned to hell for taking it? Holy- Draco! You think you're condemned?"

" Because I am condemned! I have not met a single good person with that mark on their arm, Harry. Not one. It is a brand of allegiance, and I agreed to carry it."

Harry moved before thinking.

He shoved Draco backward onto the mattress. Draco blinked up at him in startled confusion as Harry knelt between his legs and yanked his hoodie over his head in one swift motion.

The glamours dissolved.

Draco stopped breathing.

Harry’s chest was a map of everything they had survived. Inked wards. Broken sigils. Scars that no healer could fully erase. Azkaban had left its signature in jagged lines and crude tattoos burned into skin that had once been golden.

Draco’s hand lifted instinctively — hovering, not touching.

Harry’s body trembled, but he didn’t look away. Then Draco’s gaze shifted.

Left arm.

Draco’s world narrowed.

The same mark.

Black. Coiled. Branded. The Dark Mark sat carved into the Saviour’s skin. Draco’s voice broke.

"Harry."

Harry swallowed. "When I summoned them," he said quietly, "I had to access the network of the Marks. I needed leverage. It… connected back."

Draco stared at the symbol.

"You’re marked," he whispered.

"I am." Silence filled the room.

Draco reached forward slowly and took Harry’s hand instead of the arm. Not the mark. Harry closed his eyes when their fingers intertwined. There was no revulsion. No horror. No distance.

Just Draco.

And for the first time since he had woken up in this universe, since he had carried the weight of two worlds and too many sins —

Harry felt safe.

"You have a son!" Harley whirled around to glare at Tony. "I can't believe you didn't tell me." He accused, shoving Tony as his mentor just rolled his eyes and instructed Friday to bring the Avengers down. The Avengers, upon getting the announcement to meet in the common room, got a horrid feeling that this was starting to become a habit. Sam was the first one to enter.

"I have the feeling this might have something to do with the whitest boy I've ever seen, am I right?" He guessed. Tony just sighed in response, already getting a headache.

The rest of them trickled in, Pepper excluded, as she was in meetings as the only one with a proper job and having to actually do it.

"The hell has the brat done now?" Bucky grumbled.

"He got himself a boyfriend, is what he did." Tony announced, throwing his hands up in the universal sign of being done. Several members did a double take, a few looking over at Bucky who was glaring with hostility at Harley, who discreetly tried to step behind Tony.

"Who's the brat dating?" Bucky growled with some... was that a smile? Was that his attempt at a smile? It looked like a wolf trying to convince Red Riding Hood that  he was an outstanding member of society.

"Draco." Harley piped up, hoping that a name might take the heat off him. Bucky did not pout.

"That's a stupid name."

"Agreed." Tony nodded, looking so fed up.

"But the fucker is living with us for the foreseeable future, so we better get used to his presence." Tony dropped the bomb.

"He's what?" Clint yelped.

"Harry would have gone with him if I'd sent him away, emancipation papers be damned." Tony admitted.

"Well, shit." Clint looked dumbstruck. "Your tower is becoming a damn youth hostel, Tones." Clint laughed.

"Shut it." Tony grouched. Barnes hadn't stopped staring at the floor since the news got out, and Tony was happy to have another person on his side who wasn't happy that Harry was dating. He knew Bucky would agree with him; Harry was way too young for this shit.

"Alright, uh, meeting over, I guess. You all knew about Harley staying with us. Speaking of — Harley, don't say anything to Peter, I want to tell him myself." Tony commanded.

"Sure, why would he want to know that he has a 'new brother'?" Harley said bitterly, storming off before Tony could interject. Natasha rubbed his shoulder briefly.

"Why don't you go see if Pepper wants to go for a walk? You deserve to have something nice, and we can take care of the kids." She said soothingly. Tony looked at her gratefully, he just really wanted a Pepper hug.

"What about the kids?" He objected half-heartedly.

"The kids aren't going anywhere and honestly, I think they need some space without you to cool down. Clint will work on Harley, and when Peter arrives, he'll just smooth it all down." She reassured him. He nodded dejectedly. He felt like every time he talked to Harry or Harley he got something wrong. Peter never got mad at anyone — it wasn't really in his nature — but even Tony could tell he was getting stretched a little thin at the constant hot and cold act that were the Starks.

"Okay. Okay, you're right. Text me if you need me." He said seriously. She rolled her eyes.

"I will. Now go."

Clint was a good person.

He was crawling through the vents with Harley so that they could spy on Harry and Draco, but he was a good person.

Okay — maybe when you put it like that, it doesn't sound right... especially considering his age. Alright, forget being a good person.

He was a good spy.

And uncle.

Because he was totally Harley's favourite right now. He better fucking be. Because Clint, much like Harley, had come from a broken family. So Clint knew that unlike Peter (who loved Harry because Peter already had a loving paternal figure in his life and so had no reason to be envious), Harley didn't have the same incentive to play nice. So Harley needed to figure out where he now stood. Thus, the crawling through the vents. Clint knew that there was a vent right next to the door of Harry's room, which meant if they angled their heads just right, it would almost be like looking at them from the front door.

Which was their plan. As they got closer to the vent, they started to hear angry voices and Clint started to crawl faster, keeping in mind the cult Harry seemed to have been a part of and what kind of other people might have been there.

"You think you're condemned."

Clint was pretty sure that was Harry speaking. What the fuck.

Condemned???

Was the school a religious cult?

"Because it is! I am! I haven't met a single good person with the mark on their arm!"

Another voice yelled as Clint and Harley managed to get in position to see, both trying to silently push each other so that they could get a better view. And, uh... Clint now felt like a pervert because it would seem that they had just walked into two boyfriends very excited to see each other again.

Harry, probably in desperation, pushed Draco onto his back, who fell back eagerly.

Oh God — what kid-friendly activities included being on your back?

Tony was going to freak.

Clint wrinkled his nose, ready to get the fuck out of here, because he wasn't a peeping Tom. Harley seemingly had the same idea, looking at him with an uncomfortable look as Harry lifted himself onto his knees, one of Draco's now sprawled legs in between his, as he shoved his hoodie off.

Oh God, why in the ever-loving hell were teenagers so horny? Right — this was escalating way too quickly. They both tried to wiggle back but got stuck in their desperation to leave and were stuck hearing Harry as he gave a shuddering breath of anticipation. Harley whacked Clint and shoved himself away from the vent as Draco started to reach a hand out.

Once their feet were both firmly on the ground they just stood, processing what had just happened. Clint, in particular, was about to fall on Tony's floor and beg him to end his suffering over what he had seen.

"This never happened."

Harley announced, not looking at Clint. Clint, wanting to avoid eye contact as well, nodded.

"Agreed."

After Harry... Merlin. Just, Harry.

He was supposed to protect Harry. Ron was there to remind him that he was young, Hermione to keep him grounded and Draco... he was supposed to do everything in his power to protect him from the very people he now shared a tattoo with.

And he'd failed.

He'd failed to keep Harry out of Azkaban, failed to protect him once he got out...

Fuck.

Harry shrugged on his hoodie again, not commenting on how Draco's eyes never left Harry's arm.

"Dray, why the hell are you here?" Harry questioned, whilst dragging Draco's matching go-bag onto his lap so he could start separating what could be left out and what would need to be hidden. Draco lifted his head up from where he'd been staring at the now covered arm.

"Your godfather got nervous."

He answered dryly.

"Are... are you serious right now?"

"No, I'm only related to him." Draco smirked, blocking the pillow that flew his way with a shield charm.

"Draco." Harry said sternly.

"Fine. We hadn't heard from you in a few days. Put us all on edge. So, Sirius said he wanted me to check that you were okay briefly. Except, once I was on the plane, which, terrible invention, just so you know, never going on it again on pain of death, I read the goodbye notes they left me. One which stated I wasn't coming back. Neither of us are." Draco finished, looking much older than his seventeen years of age.

"What." Harry whispered.

"Dumbledore is getting too dangerous so we've been based here under the farce of trying to gain the MACUSA's support. They left a thinly veiled threat that should we try to come back the consequences would be dire, not that we could, we need a wizard from Britain to tie the portkey to a destination." He finished dourly, looking down at his hands.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit!" Harry got up from the bed and started pacing. "How could they? I've been fighting in the war for just as long as they have! I have invaluable information and they're just putting me in a fucking safe house!" Harry kicked the corner of his bed, biting down on his knuckle to prevent himself from screaming.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to bond with Stark and I'm supposed to keep an eye on you."

"Great. They sent a babysitter." Harry grouched.

"Potter, this babysitter plans on finding you a wand and then helping you find a way home." Draco said tiredly.

"Oh, fuck it then, let me catch you up with everything that's happened, then you're going to need to do the same. I never got the full rundown before."

"Deal. And then, then we get to work."

He said with a glinting smile.

"You... you watched Harry have sex with his boyfriend?" Peter yelled, horrified. Wanda, Harley and Peter were all crowded on Wanda's bed, the teens compiling all the information they had to do their own little investigation about what was wrong with Harry and whether they liked him — that last one only applied to Harley. Peter had taken the news about another teen living in the tower surprisingly well, only asking that he'd be able to stay over as well. Aunt May hadn't wanted him to feel left out and had agreed.

"I didn't mean to!" Harley objected, going red.

"You followed a couple into their bedroom after they hadn't seen each other for a month?" Wanda said deadpan.

"Um... yes? But in my defence, Draco told me they were brothers at first, so it hadn't fully processed that they weren't." Harley scowled.

"That's a bit weird... to say you're brothers and then say you're dating." Wanda remarked.

"Told you we should hate him." He said smugly. Peter looked at him, wounded.

"But Harry is awesome."

"Stop being jealous." Wanda said bluntly. Peter looked over at Harley curiously as the boy went red.

"I'm not jealous." He mumbled.

"Yes you are. You don’t see me as a threat because I'm older and a girl, which means Tony and I have a different dynamic. Peter has Aunt May, which means he has a different primary parent figure, and that narrows it down to you and Harry. You think Tony will leave you for him." She concluded. Harley looked at her.

"I thought friends were supposed to make you happy." He grumbled.

"I don't coddle. You should be happy that you can make a new friend, but you don't have to be." She amended before starting to plait her hair so it was out of the way.

"I think he's hiding something." Harley admitted.

"Maybe it's paranoia, but I don't think Draco and Harry are dating... and I'm not sure why they'd pretend."

"You're smart. You wouldn't let your emotions get in the way." Peter added.

"So... spying?" Harley said hopefully.

They both looked over at Peter, who was being quiet. He was the smartest there — they would follow his lead.

"Spying."

"You know that voice in your head that tells you to stop?" Draco demanded, hands on his hips. Harry looked up from where he was learning about the wizard justice system in a handy book that one of the mercenaries' mum had given him.

Wanda, Pete and Harley were all listening behind the door, ears pressed against the wood. Tony walked past, saw them and sighed, not stopping to berate them. He had a short date with Pepper and he wasn't missing it.

Pick your battles and all that.

Speaking of battles, he needed to have a talk with Steve about picking less.

"No, I told it to fuck off once when I was trying to escape from my cupboard and it never came back." Harry retorted, flipping the page.

Harley looked at Pete, confused, whilst Peter just looked at Wanda, searching for something in her face.

"Is he just talking about coming out the closet?" Harley mouthed to the two. Neither responded.

"Oh my Merlin," Draco groaned. "You can't bring that up every time you want to guilt me into doing something!" Draco grouched, flopping dramatically on their bed. Harry grinned.

"But it worked, didn't it?"

"Yes. Now move over so I can educate your muggle-loving arse about how to go against our loving families' back and get back to England."

Peter and Wanda gave a concerned look. This Draco guy needed to go. There was no way they were letting Harry go back to whatever hell hole he came from in England. Harley was ecstatic about Draco wanting Harry to leave and decided to be nicer to the blonde. Wanda tilted her head slightly and the three left to go find Tony.

Tony didn't take the news well.

As the smashed glass all over his lab showed.

Harley added another tally in the "why I should hate Harry" column. It was becoming a very long list.

"He can't. Wanda, you know what happened, and I just... shit." He started rubbing his chest, breathing heavily as he tried to stave off a panic attack.

"Look, I talked to him. I don't think he wants to go back, okay? We just need to remind him why he wants to stay." Wanda said reassuringly.

"Yeah, we just need to be really friendly to win Draco over!"

Peter piped in optimistically.

Lunch was strained. And decisively not friendly.

Tony and Bucky were glaring at Draco with a passion; Harley, following his mentor’s example, only focused his hostility on the boy next to him. Peter and Wanda just kept eyeing what was going on, quietly eating their food. Natasha and Clint watched the whole thing, analysing everything, whilst Sam, Steve and Bruce all sat with a resigned expression as they waited for the inevitable fight.

"So, Draco." Tony broke the silence, folding his hands in front of himself.

"How do you know my son?" Harry and Draco shot a secretive look, making Bucky accidentally grasp his fork too strongly, causing it to fold. He looked down at the tangled silverware and didn't remark as Natasha wordlessly passed him the spare she'd brought with her.

"We've known each other since eleven. I despised him until recently." Draco articulated, placing his knife and fork down in the perfect position as he finished his meal. With Harry and Draco sitting next to each other, they were quite a contrast — one dark, one light, one who ate like a feral beast, one who ate as if manners had been beaten into him. Even the way they stood was different; Harry was always tense, whilst Draco looked like he was forcibly at ease.

"Enemies to lovers, slow burn, plus fifty K." Peter whispered under his breath, causing Wanda to elbow him under the table as everyone shot him an odd look.

"Why? Was he a bully?" Harley jumped in, hoping that this might be the proof he needed that Harry was bad.

"Other way round, actually. I hated the school and headmaster of the school we went to, whilst he was their Golden Boy. In fact, you could even say he was their," Draco cleared his throat as if trying to stop himself from laughing, "saviour. I was not. It caused conflict to arise." Draco elaborated, with a look that suggested he knew exactly what Harley was thinking and would beat him over it. He discreetly moved himself forward so, should a spell be cast, Draco would be able to take it instead of Harry. Logically, he knew none of them had magic, instinctively, he didn't care.

Tony sat up with interest, Draco didn't like the school. Maybe this kid was what they needed.

"Why didn't you like the school?" Natasha cut in, tilting her head slightly. Draco looked at her appraisingly, only to give the smallest smile at whatever he found.

"I didn't appreciate how they kept putting Potter and, as such, me in danger. Of course, as we became friends, my anger at the danger turned toward the school instead of Potter." He said stiffly, remembering the constant fear he'd felt as he walked the corridors from fourth year on. To know that the Saviour of the Wizarding World could be placed in Azkaban... every Slytherin had been scared to breathe too loud, fearful of how they would be punished when the symbol of Light had been thrown away in such a cruel way. They had known that one slip-up and that would be it. For Draco — a boy whose father had represented the child Dumbledore had done his best to eliminate. A boy who held the Dark Mark, who was spying on the establishment that had been supposed to keep him safe. For Draco — that school represented his biggest fear.

"Draco." Harry murmured warningly. Draco shot him a look; he knew better than to speak of magic; he'd grown up with the fear of the Witch Trials.

"What kind of danger?" Bucky asked harshly. Wanda, Peter and Harley were starting to feel apprehension.

"Well, the first year there was that teacher that stalked and then tried to kill him. Although that did end with summer exams being cancelled, thanks for that, by the way." Draco added offhandedly. Harry shrugged; it hadn’t been much of a hassle for him to lie in the hospital. "Then there was the... student, who was trying to harm anyone they deemed 'impure'. After that was..." Draco squinted, trying to remember what happened next. "Harry?" He prodded for help.

"Uh, third year? That was when I met Professor Lupin and Sirius." He remembered. Harry loved how the Slytherin was so good at manipulating the story so that it didn’t sound too bad.

"Ah yes, the mutts." He remarked, snapping his fingers as he remembered. "Yes, so, Harry decided to start frolicking around, even though a supposed killer was on the loose because he thought to become an animal rights activist." He rolled his eyes.

"You know you were in the wrong with Buckbeak!" Harry shoved Draco slightly, who just grabbed his hand. Bucky's eyes narrowed to the point of contact, where the two held hands.

"It's an overgrown bird. It had no right to be so temperamental!" Draco protested.

"Hagrid told you not to be flippant." Harry reminded him. Draco chose not to respond, instead turning back to the adults who seemed rather pale.

"Anyway. Third year was quite mundane; I forget the details." He gave a flippant wave of his hand. "Fourth year was rather interesting, it's when we became friends as—" Harry squeezed his hand slightly, allowing Draco to understand he didn't want these people to know about any of the big stuff. Draco understood the subtle message and veered the direction of the story. "As I decided to get my head out of my arse." He finished.

There was silence.

"That's... um. I didn't expect so much to happen at an Amish school." Peter gulped. Draco gave a discreet look of confusion to Harry, perfected to the point where no one should have noticed it.

Except there were three spies at the table.

And they noticed.

Natasha tapped her finger on the table once, letting the other two men know that this would need further investigation.

What were they hiding?

"So, Draco." Bucky leaned forwards, threateningly, causing Draco to raise his eyebrows in amusement at the cute little display of protectiveness. "You used to bully Harry?"

"Well, in my defence, he chose to be friends with Weasley. And then became a Gryffindor. Honestly, I think I was a Saint considering all the material he gave me." He stated as if that cleared everything up.

It didn't.

"Do you have a favourite subject?" Tony asked instead of the plethora of questions which had arisen from all that shit that had been unloaded, totally planning on judging him on his answer. For some reason, this question made Harry tense up.

"History." He replied smoothly. Steve perked up at that.

"Really? What time period?" Steve said, excited that he may have someone who actually cared about the humanities subjects in the tower. He might finally have someone to tell his old stories to.

"The First War." Draco replied, looking like he was being a little shit and knew it. Harry thunked his head on the table, making everyone look at him, concerned.

"What, uh..." Steve looked at Harry briefly, concerned about the teen just laying his head on the table. "What about the war?"

"I enjoyed seeing the bigotry and hypocritical beliefs within both sides." Draco sipped from his drink. Steve nodded approvingly. Harry rolled his eyes. It was pure luck that there had been two famous muggle wars and Harry was willing to bet that     Draco was blisfully unaware of that. 

"So, Harry, do you like history as well?" Harley said with a fake smile. Harry looked up, confused that the conversation had turned to him.

"Um, no. Our teacher was really boring."

"I must agree with that, the man taught as if he were dead." Draco said with a shit-eating grin. Harry had to restrain himself from hitting Draco across the head as he made reference to the deceased Professor Binns.

"But I like biology?" He said. Draco mouthed the word as if he'd never heard it before.

"Oh. That's cute, I guess." Harley snarked. Harry narrowed his eyes, but Draco cut in.

"Isn't he?" Draco smiled, looking directly at Bucky as he said that. Bucky’s left eye twitched. Draco smiled wider, looking like he was just given a new toy. He glanced at Tony. "I apologise deeply, but may we be excused? I am in need to inform my mother of my living arrangements. In all the excitement of seeing Harry again I got distracted and forgot to contact her."

Did Draco need to add that last titbit of information? No. Did he anyway because he wished for the possessive one to misinterpret it? Yes.

Tony looked a bit weirded out by how formal the blonde was but nodded anyway, trying to hide his irritation as Harry got up with him. Harry always spent a bit of time with Tony in the lab and now that his boyfriend was here, he was already spending less time with him. "Do you need to use my phone?" Tony asked diplomatically. Draco gave the man a strange look.

"What use would a bone be?"

Harry clapped his hands loudly, "its okay, thank you, I've got it from here!" He almost shouted, dragging Draco from the kitchen and into their room.

The two wizards closed their bedroom door and gave a relieved sigh.

"Thank Merlin that's over." Harry slumped down on the floor.

"Really? I was rather interested in the dynamics I saw." He shrugged, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, piercing his tattoo with his nails briefly before stopping.

"Dynamics?" Harry frowned in confusion. Draco hummed in confirmation.

"Harley may be a problem, but the other youngsters feel a rather large amount of protectiveness over you. Particularly the one with those bedroom eyes." Draco reminisced.

"Please don't try to date Peter." Harry winced, imagining Tony's reaction. Draco didn't say anything and Harry silently groaned as he remembered Draco's love for Hufflepuffs which — let's be honest — would most likely be Peter's House. Draco clicked his fingers.

"Speaking of, you left out in your calls that you were courting the man with a silver arm." Draco said snidely.

"Silver... you mean Barnes! I'm not... what? I'm not courting Barnes!" Harry denied, going red at his ears. "No one courts people anymore, you outdated pureblood!" Draco gave him a look that could only be described as: Bitch, please.

"Well, he certainly has a lot of jealousy on our relationship for someone not interested."

"What relationship?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Ours. We're dating now, Harry, do keep up." Draco rolled his eyes. Harry blinked slowly.

"But... we're not dating?"

"Yes, and thank Merlin for that. But they seem to be under the impression that we are." Draco said simply. Harry stared at him.

"Shouldn't we correct them?" Draco smirked from where he was now stretched on the bed, allowing a languid smile to stretch across his face.

"Why should we? How else can we explain a soldier's bond without letting them know? It will allow us a lot more leeway." Draco informed Harry. His smile then turned into a cocky smirk. "I may also be wishing to run a little experiment of my own, in which the parameters need them to fall for the assumption we are a couple." Draco added. Harry sighed, knowing that he didn't really have a say in this. "Now," Draco patted the space next to him, and Harry jumped onto the bed. "I need a briefing on each of these people I'll be living with."

Thirty minutes later and Draco was rather unimpressed with the amount Harry knew.

"I know a lot!" Harry protested after Draco stayed untouched by the rundown.

"You are living with the equivalent of you in the muggle world and, in typical Potter fashion, shrugged and went to work in a bar!" Draco gave Harry the stink eye. Harry didn’t answer him. "Are there books on him? There must be, there are books on you in every wizard shop." Draco said, aggravated.

"Um, Dudley would use a laptop? If that works?" Harry chipped in.

"What the fuck is that?"

"I'm not sure? I wasn’t allowed to touch it, but I think it’s like a massive book which contains loads of information. Tony gave me one in the room, I think, so we can try that as a method of information." Draco just looked at Harry expectantly until Harry got it for Draco and they figured out how to turn it on and fire up Google.

"I can't believe you haven't done this before." Draco muttered, furiously typing on the laptop. "This is real magic, if only my father could see it." He paused briefly, as if considering it. "Actually, I'd probably land on the wrong side of a curse should I bring him anything muggle."

"This feels wrong." Harry complained. He felt like he should get to learn about his family organically. Draco stared at him incredulously.

"This... this internet thing, it allows you to find out things about people if you just type in their name. And you didn't think to use it to search up your father?" He said in disbelief.

"It felt rude."

"Well, keeping you away from all of us feels rude to me, so, how about I do the research and then tell you everything, therefore technically, you didn't do anything." Draco suggested in a way that let Harry know he definitely planned on doing that no matter what. "Of course the Gryffindor doesn't think of how they could use information to change their game plan. This is why you need Slytherin friends."

Draco rolled his eyes, scrolling through the links, confused how to read more.

"Game plan?" Harry cocked his head.

"If you know what he's like, you know how to manipulate him and get your way."

"Stop being a stereotypical Slytherin." Harry sighed.

"There is nothing wrong with being smart! This is why you weren't in Ravenclaw. You have the brain of a Sniffler."

"You're right Dray," Harry said sagely, "I could never have been in another house. You however... some might say it was very brave, if not slightly reckless to come to New York and try so many new muggle gadgets." 

They both glared at each other, trying to figure out where to go from there.

"I shall kill you." Draco seethed.

Harry sighed, smiling slightly as he got comfortable next to Draco, having missed their friendly spats. "Oh, bugger up, if we're doing this, we need to use key words."

"I don't like him." Harley announced once the two teens left. Harley was obviously talking about Harry, although everyone apart from the other teens assumed he was talking about Draco.

"Agreed. He's too cocky. And blonde." Bucky added, scowling.

Natasha gave an amused quirk of her eyebrows, laughing at the idiot assassin.

"Yeah, well, Harry seems to really like him so..." Tony shrugged.

"I think he's pretty cool." Peter blushed. Tony looked at his pseudo-kid with growing horror.

"No. Nope. Not happening. I refuse to have a love triangle in this tower." He shook his head, making an abort mission symbol with his hands.

"I... whaaaaaat? Pffft. What are you talking about?" Peter deflected badly before squeezing out a "gotta go" and dragging Wanda and Harley back to their floor so they could scheme and talk boys or whatever the fuck kids did these days.

Tony shrugged and made a gesture for Steve to follow him so that they could work on adjustments on his comm that broke in the last fight. After, it was just the spies, all unmoving as they watched each other.

"Buck—" Clint interjected.

"Stop. Just... I know. I'll work on it." Bucky sighed. Clint nodded once.

"You do that."

He said seriously.

Harry and Draco just sat on the bed, completely and utterly scared. They stared at the wall unseeingly.

"That... I wasn't expecting that ." Draco gulped.

"Muggles are way too free with the internet." Harry agreed, hugging a pillow to his chest.

"Tumblr is a scary place." Draco whispered.

"Do you... I mean... surely it couldn't all have been right?" Harry asked desperately.

"I thought a thirst trap wouls be drinking water. Or a wine tasting. I was so wrong." Draco said in a daze. Two boys who had grown up in incredibly cold families should not know what a thirst trap was.

All they had done was search up "Tony x Avengers", which had led them onto this website named Tumblr. Draco had frowned, not understanding the odd spelling and had insisted they check it out.

At first, it had been funny, it included cool things that the Avengers had apparently said and funny pictures of them looking cool.

Except, as the hours went by, the tags they clicked on got more and more obscure which led them to a website called AO3.

"The orgies." Harry squeezed his eyes shut in horror.

Draco gave a full body shudder as he remembered what they had read. Draco was scared for his virtue.

"What you guys up to?" Came a voice from the door. Draco yelped in surprise and guiltily slammed the laptop shut, throwing it off him and onto the bed.

"Nothing." They both parroted. Peter looked suspiciously at the two of them and the laptop before shaking himself to rid himself of whatever thoughts he held.

"'Kay. Uh, do you maybe wanna come to Wanda's room?" He asked, determined for Harry and Harley to get along.

He never saw two people nod their heads so fast, both incredibly eager to leave the laptop for some reason. Draco reached Peter first, wrapping one arm around the boy, giving a startled smile as Peter didn't tense or lean away as most people did.

"Tell me, Peter, was it? Why do you post so much on the internet?" He prompted. Peter gave a small laugh, remembering that, like Harry, he'd gone to an Amish school. They must have been learning all about different websites.

"Well, we like people to know what we're up to." Peter explained, excited to teach Draco about technology.

"Yes but... why must you post such crass things?" Draco asked impatiently. Peter started to get a sinking feeling, looking at the incredibly red and embarrassed faces the two British teens wore.

"What did you guys look at?" Peter asked with dread. He moved back into the room they'd started to vacate before opening the still unlocked laptop. Draco gave a serious laugh.

"You shall never know. That    knowledge is only known by us and Lord Google and he shall keep our secrets if he knows what's good for him."

Peter gave a hum of acknowledgement before pulling up their search history, only for his jaw to drop. "Porn??? You guys watched and read Avengers porn?" Peter screeched, looking at the two mortified teens.

"How does he know?" Harry whispered loudly to Draco, who just shrugged in confusion.

"Well, why did you guys tell people about your exploits!" Draco rebutted, trying to put the attention off himself.

"This isn't real! Fans write this stuff." Peter squawked.

Draco and Harry looked at him in baffled confusion.

Oh shit—

"Did no one give you the internet safety talk!" He demanded in disbelief.

"Why... would we need a safety talk on an internet?" Draco asked, confused.

"Oh God... Mr Stark gets a notification every time someone searches up anything to do with Avengers." It dawned on him. Harry swallowed.

"You mean..."

"It's not real." Draco realised. "Harry, we just searched up and watched fan made renditions. We just read book porn! About your father and his friends!" He moaned in mortification.

"So... Tony isn't dating Steve and Bruce?"

"No, I can't say I am. But you can imagine the poor man’s mortification as the tabs you lot opened started popping up on my screen. The soldier just wanted to get his comm checked, not learn about his horny fans." A disapproving Tony Stark stood at the door.

All three teens squeaked with fear, and the billionaire stepped further into the room.

"How is it, Mr Malfoy, that not only can I not find any proof of you existing, but within the first twenty-four hours of us meeting, you have gone on channels that you shouldn't have."

He said seriously.

"They're Amish, Mr Stark." Peter reminded Mr Stark.

"How is that important?"

"They haven't exactly used the internet a great amount in their life. As in, they had no idea some parts of the internet weren't factual." Peter and Mr Stark turned to look at the British teens who looked very uncomfortable to be there.

"And, uh, some Amish parents don't register their families and kids." Harry piped up. Was that true? He had no fucking idea. Would Tony know? Absolutely fucking not.

"Right. That's... that's a conversation I'm going to need to have with you both. But for now, Casper, with me." He beckoned Draco forward, who followed the adult with great apprehension.

"I'll stay with Peter." Harry promised, which gave Draco enough security that he left with Tony easily. He knew this was probably coming. He got led down to the kitchen where they had just eaten, to see three people still sitting there. He hadn't caught all of their names, but he knew Barnes was the one with the little crush on Harry, so he made sure to give him an extra glare.

"Sit." Tony gestured to an empty chair.

"I'm guessing you'd like to know how my presence is going to impact Harry?" Draco took an intellectual guess.

"Jackpot. So, explain; why are you here?" Tony asked, sitting down in the seat next to him. Draco looked at the mini circle they'd formed to intimidate him and sneered at the antics. They should try living with Auntie Bella for a summer.

"Well, to be frank, I got kicked out." The adults startled. "I know, I'm as shocked as you are that people would give up the opportinity to be in my company." He said graciously, allowing them a second to breath in that peice of news. As they all stared at him unimpressed, he straightened. "I'm sure you have a slight grasp that our school was... odd." Draco chose his words carefully. Tony nodded.

"It may have come to out attention."

"Right, well, as mentioned before, I wasn't a big fan of it. When Harry left, his parent figures shipped him off here and honestly, I don't think they ever planned on seeing him again. Sure, they keep saying they will, but things are difficult in Britain right now."

"I haven't heard about any struggle." Natasha cut in.

"Don't lie, Madam. You have." Draco said darkly, giving her a measured look. He was right, of course; she'd heard of odd cases where people were being found dead in their home for no reason, with an odd show of light projections above their house but... her people couldn't find leads. And those who seemed to know something weren't saying anything. Of course, she hadn't thought children had been involved. But she should have known; the Red Room taught her just how important an unexpected child soldier could be.

"The terrorist attacks, they're related to your cult?" Clint asked, the other person who had been trying to figure out what was happening over there with Nat.

"Cult? I never thought of it in such a way although... it does seem to fit the parameters. Boy Who Lived and all that." Draco mused. "But yes. Currently there is a situation in Britain which is being kept on the down low, a situation which led to myself being tricked by my cousin to leave Britain, only to be given a lovely note stating I'm not allowed back but am instead, to look after Harry." He said bitterly.

"Your cousin?" Tony asked, excited that there might be an adult who could let them know what's going on because this boy has just caused more questions to arise than leave.

"Yes, Sirius Black." Draco muttered, distracted. The room froze.

"Black?" Tony said softly, dangerously. Draco tensed at the voice; he'd grown up learning to fear that tone. He searched for what he'd said and stopped breathing. He'd forgotten that the muggle world also knew about his rather infamous cousin. And about his supposed body count. In his defence, compared with Bellatrix, Sirius kind of fell into the shadows when thinking about terrifying members.

"Yes." He whispered. 

"Sirius Black wanted you out of Britain? Why?" Bucky spoke quietly.

"Because our community is becoming one where we don't know who to trust. He knew something bad would happen to Harry, even though Harry refuses to see it, and they knew I'd be judged for my father's actions." Draco said darkly.

"Not your serial killer cousin?"

"My father is worse." Draco assured them. "And if you're worried about the Blacks, I can assure you, Bella is worse."

"You're not giving yourself a strong case for why you should stay here." Tony warned him.

"My parents do not determine who I am." Draco snarled, grasping his left arm so tightly Tony feared he may draw blood.

"You're right." Clint said carefully, looking directly at Tony. Tony understood; everyone here seemed to be running away from their parents' legacy, including Harry.

"One question. You're here to keep Harry safe? And you want him to stay here?" Tony demanded.

"Don't lie — I can tell." Natasha warned. Draco gave a condescending smile,

"Oh yes, I fear to imagine what would happen." He turned to look at Tony. "I'm not lying about this. I wish to keep Harry as safe as he'll let me. I'll do everything I can to keep him here for as long as I can."

Until the situation back home gets too dire, he amended privately.

"Good enough for me. Take care of my kid." Tony nodded.

"So, I heard you may be in contact with a kid?" A voice came from St Margaret’s Home for Waywards' door. All the barflies went stone quiet as they observed the man at the door.

"Kid?" Weasel tried to say smoothly.

"A Harry Potter." They elaborated.

"I've, uh, never heard the name." Weasel said quietly, knowing every armed person in this establishment had their hand on a wand or gun. The man gave an amused look to the man, slowly moving his eyes in one direction so that Weasel was compelled to follow. It landed on the poster of Harry.

"Want to repeat that ?" They said softly. Dangerously.

"Alright, fine, you got me. Look, I still don’t know him, or where the fuck he is, I just lied about not knowing his name because we don’t get involved in that shit." Weasel defended.

"You have a poster of him."

"We’re mercenaries. We have a poster of every wanted person." The two stared at each other, assessing where they could go from here.

"Should I find out you know something…"

"I get the gist. You’ll kill me." Weasel said tensely, just wanting them out of his bar.

"Worse. That boy is very special to me, Mr Jack Hammer. I will not be pleased to know you had a hand in his displacement from my life." The man murmured, causing genuine fear to race through Weasel’s body at the sound of his real name.

The man left the bar, but no one relaxed.

"You lied?"

TJ said quietly in disbelief. Weasel gave a wicked smile, reminding the patrons why he’d managed to keep such a dangerous bar intact.

"He only asked about Harry Potter. Only teen that works here is Angel."

Chapter Text

Draco didn't get scared easily.

He'd lived with the Dark Lord in his house for a year—that tends to tighten your fear response. Yet waking up from a dream to see a dark figure sharpening swords at the edge of your bed seemed to be the threshold for his ability to stay calm. He grabbed his wand from its position under his pillow and…

"Stupefy!" he whispered harshly, not giving the opposition the opportunity to be alerted by a loud voice. The dark figure collapsed, thankfully away from where the swords slipped out of his hands. Whilst Draco wasn’t exactly against murder, he could admit that if the intruder fell on them, there'd be more clean-up, and Draco wasn't a fan of such a thing of house-elf chores.

"Lumos," he whispered, only to curse as the room was lit up. He cast the cancelling charm and whacked Harry across the head., ignoring the wounded look his friend shot him. "Oh, don't look so disgruntled. You could have at least lit a candle so I could see you better," Draco reprimanded.

"You still would have hexed me," Harry argued, scowling and rubbing the back of his head where Draco had hit him.

"Obviously. But at least then you would have had a claim to indignant anger."

"I'll try to remember that," Harry said dryly. Draco looked at him expectantly as Harry picked up his weapons.

"You are aware I'm waiting for an explanation on the weapons, right?" Draco reminded him, bored.

"Technically, you haven't asked me for one recently," Harry mumbled back.

"Potter, if I wanted to deal with teen angst, I would listen to Pansy vent about arranged marriages." Draco said firmly. Harry gave a large sigh, his shoulders dropping as he considered his next actions.

"Fine." Harry put the swords down, shuffling closer to Draco and Draco immediately turned off the light on his wand. That had been something Draco had learned to do early in their friendship. Harry was an avid fan of dark small places. "Promise you won't hate me?" Harry’s voice broke on the last word, and Draco fiercely grabbed his hand.

"I promise." Harry nodded, reassuring himself.

"Okay... okay. So, I guess I should start from the beginning, right?" Harry gave with a strange type of humour in his tone. Draco, who honestly was trying to be kind but had no patience for stupidity, looked at him with a deadpan expression.

"That is the general consensus for how to start a tale."

"Yeah... well, uh. It was a few months after I had landed in Azkaban. I had heard the whispers of guards and knew Dumbledore was going to make me 'disappear' soon. So, I started a plan..."

It was a long night, and true to his word, Draco stayed steadily by Harry's side. Harry spoke until his throat went dry and hoarse, stammering over details he hadn't told anyone yet. Some of it came out in a rush, as though once one part escaped, the rest followed behind it whether he wanted it to or not. Some of it snagged in his chest and had to be dragged free, piece by humiliating piece. More than once he went flat and distant halfway through a sentence, voice turning thin and mechanical, as he walked through what happened in a factual way, as if listing groceries.

Draco did not cry. He did not let Harry feel his rage or anguish because this retelling was not for him. Not really. Once it was done, they both lay down, knowing the other wasn't asleep but also knowing they needed time to come to terms with what had been said.

"Do you think I'm a bad person? For what happened?" Harry asked flatly. Draco eyed the dark blob next to him, wondering whether he should mention that all of Draco’s family except for two (which had been blasted from the Black family tree) were all or had been in prison. Ethics didn’t exactly run in his genes.

"No.” Draco said instead. “I think you were a survivor. It’s in the name, Boy-Who-Lived; you were made to live through anything life throws at you, and you did so beautifully, with your mother’s strength and James’ bravery. You should be proud, I’m certain they would be.”," Draco promised, heart heavy.

"You're the best brother I could have asked for," Harry murmured sleepily, making Draco's breath hitch as he stared down at Harry, who was already asleep.

"I'll be the best brother I can be," Draco responded in a whisper, knowing Harry couldn't hear him. He fell into an uneasy sleep, hugging Harry to him to make sure he was protected, both of them clinging to each other.

His last thought was, at least now I know how he got so damn good with those weapons.

"Oh good, you aren't naked." Both Harry and Draco shot up in bed, rubbing their eyes as Natasha came into view. Draco wordlessly passed Harry his glasses, which Harry thanked him for with a smile.

"Hey, Nat. What are you doing here? In my room?" Harry asked awkwardly, feeling the urge to pull the blanket higher over himself.

"Well, you keep missing our bonding sessions, so I've decided we're going to change it up a bit," she announced. Harry winced, knowing that with everything going on, he'd forgotten to go to the bonding nights Pepper and Nat had set up every Wednesday.

"Really? How?" Harry asked, his interest piqued.

"Well, considering you live with the Avengers and happen to be Tony's son, we're teaching you some basic self-defence," she said, giving a small smile. Harry smiled back, smacking Draco when he snorted.

“Yes, the poor baby is just a defenceless little Hufflepuff.” Draco sneered before flopping back down and closing his eyes. Harry smacked him harder in the stomach, smiling innocently at Natasha when she raised an eyebrow. Nevertheless, Draco sat back up.

"That sounds cool, but... uh... is it really needed?" Harry asked nervously. Training was one thing in theory. In practice, being watched, cornered, expected to hold back to not hurt someone, well it made something uneasy twist low in his stomach. The idea of standing in a room and letting someone decide what counted as safe force and what did not sounded far too much like trusting the wrong person with too much.

"Yes," she said sternly.

"Madam Natasha," Draco started off smoothly, "is there any chance there might be another reason you wish for him to learn?" Draco gave a probing smile.

"We have some... unsavoury house guests coming. Tony wants you to have something under your belt should you be in the position where you need to defend yourself," she explained in irritation, cursing the blonde who seemed much more aware of political wording than his counterpart.

"Well,” Draco said with a bright smile, clapping his hands together once, “that’s all you had to say. We would be honoured to learn your little tricks for safety. Do we need to wear anything in particular?" Draco inquired, pinching Harry’s legs with a force Harry thought was rather unnecessary when he went to dispute the point.

"Just something comfortable. I'll meet you down in a few."

She left, making her way down to the training room, waggling her eyebrows as she caught sight of Clint on his way there as well.

"What's that look supposed to mean?" he smirked, the two at ease with the close bond they held.

"Just funny seeing young love." She didn't have a chance to gossip with him any further as they entered the training room. She raised an eyebrow at how full it was. "Last time I checked, none of you have training today." She crossed her arms. Wanda, Peter, and Harley all smiled innocently, although she caught the gritted "Told you she'd notice," Harley whispered through the side of his smile. Nat moved her disapproving gaze to Bucky and Steve. "I expected Barnes but... really, Steve? I had faith in you." She tutted disapprovingly, causing Steve to go red in the face.

"Tony has an incredibly important meeting, Pepper is ensuring the government won't freak out about, y'know... and Bruce won't let me in his lab without Tony being there as well," he mumbled, looking down at the floor. The lab rule had been implemented by Bruce when Steve kept bumping into very reactive chemicals, causing a Code Green when acid had spilled on Bruce.

"Sure, and I bet it had nothing to do with how your best friend needed a convenient excuse to be down here," she said dryly, ignoring the snickering teens as she called the super soldiers out.

Steve gave the, who me???? I'm an angel... I sacrificed my life for my country and definitely not because I was super dramatic and wanted to die out of spite over my best friend dyin’, look. (Because disobeying all orders is still patriotic if Captain America says it is, come on, it’s in the name.)  It was a very expressive look. Bucky, on the other hand, did nothing but give a shit-eating grin, reminding Nat why the two were friends. Whoever thought that Steve was a patriotic Republican had most likely forgotten that it had usually been him in jail with Bucky breaking him out. And let's not forget the amount of times Steve had forged enlistment papers, a criminal offence. What Natasha was trying to say was that Bucky was the obvious pain in the ass, no good delinquent; he looked like it and acted the part. But Mr American Dream Doll was the fucking worst and always the enabler.

"Fine. You can all stay, but no interfering." She amended. Harley raised his hand. "You will be helping and actually going through your regimen. You came to the training room—you will be training," she said, not even looking up as she began to stretch. He lowered his hand.

As Harry and Draco walked in, Peter gulped. Harry didn't look different at all; he was wearing jeans and a hoodie. Very original. Draco, however, was wearing an incredibly form-fitting top and sweatpants. Peter decided that he was incredibly happy to work out every day, if Draco was there. Motivation and all that; Peter needs to know how much Draco can lift so that Peter can… Peter had forgotten his train of thought but he was certain it was going somewhere about health and good habits.

"Harry, that doesn't really count as workout clothes," Natasha said disapprovingly, causing the boy to turn red.

"Вы не сказали ему переодеться?" ("Did you not tell him to change?") Bucky asked, confused. Nat opened her mouth to argue, only for another voice to beat her.

"Она сделала. Но не знаю, сообразили ли вы, но одежда для него мало востребована." ("She did. But I don't know if you've realised, but clothes are in short demand for him.") Draco interrupted with a perfect Russian accent.

"А они не для тебя?" ("And they’re not for you?") Natasha asked coldly, confused about how the one without the suitcase had more clothes. The coldness may have formed from the realisation that Draco apparently spoke Russian. Bucky scowled, angry that his secret language—he knew Russian wasn't a secret language, but it was something just Nat and he spoke, which made it great for gossip—was no longer specific to him. Of course, the issue with Draco not having clothes was not actually true. Draco had very much brought a bag of clothes, all in his shrunk go bag, although... he was starting to realise the problem with the other residents not knowing that. Oh well. It was what it was.

"У Харли отличный гардероб." ("Harley has a great wardrobe.") he said with a snarky smile. It was a safe assumption that Stark most likely had a wardrobe filled with things he had bought for Harley, and Draco was betting no one would remember exactly which clothes were whose. Natasha hummed, considering, before switching back to English.

"No matter then." She announced, "Do you want to take your hoodie off?" she asked Harry. Harry froze, his hand twitching at the hem without lifting it. There was a look that was almost too tense, and she didn't press when he shook his head dramatically. "Alright then. First, we stretch. I'm going to get warmed up, and I want Harley and Peter to help Harry and Draco. Wanda, could you please work with Bucky?" Natasha commanded, her voice sure.

Wanda and Bucky still had a few issues to work out due to the whole, ahem... Hydra thing, and she wanted them to be closer. Natasha watched them all move into position, keeping her movments slight, allowing herself to blend into the background. Natasha had been watching Harry, watching all the strange movements and aspects of his life. But that was a limited data base. She needed more. She wanted to see just what was causing the boy to be so angry. When you put a teenager in front of an adult with obvious authority, they're going to change. Milgram's obedience experiment was the perfect example of this. Now, obviously, she wasn't going to see if Harry would shock people to death, but she wanted to see the difference in behaviour when putting him with children his age. Bucky, Wanda, and she started stretching on the floor, Steve going through some warm-up punches. As they stretched, they ensured they were angled to see what was going on, speaking in low Ukrainian. Surely Draco didn't speak Ukrainian. Draco did. But luckily they were speaking too low for him to hear. As the teenagers moved into position, Natasha was… confused. Harry should have taken the lead; he was in territory more familiar to him than the blonde, and he'd already established friends.

But Harry was showing signs of insecure-avoidant attachment. Draco showed insecure-resistant. Neither were good signs. The Avengers had been running an investigation on the sly, but with the amount of information they knew, they couldn't seemingly do anything. Draco told them that a teacher had been stalking their kid—fuck off, Tony didn't get sole custody of every kid, that wasn't fair—and yet the Avengers couldn't find any police reports or even a list of teachers who worked at St Brutus. Draco kept his body angled in front of Harry as the teens mingled, shifting his hand to brush over Harry's to reassure himself Harry was there. Harry was apathetic to the touches, staring down Harley, showing slight preference to Peter and Draco but seemingly not holding any instinct to seek comfort in an unfamiliar environment. That was the part that felt wrong. Not the stillness itself, but how practised it was. Harry didn't lean in. Didn't unconsciously seek out the nearest safe body the way teenagers usually did. He simply endured proximity as if comfort were a luxury other people reached for, not him. As if needing reassurance and not getting it had been taught out of him years ago. Natasha growled at the contradictions. More data would be needed.

The teens were very much aware they were being observed. It was obvious, to be honest, and as such the teens reflected it by purposefully keeping their posture friendly and pasting fake smiles on their faces. Except for Peter. Peter was actually happy to be there.

"Right. How about we split up?" Harley suggested, looking directly at Harry. Harry didn't back down, used to this game.

"Sounds good," he replied in a level voice.

"I'll go with Draco?" Peter volunteered, hoping this would allow Harry and Harley the opportunity to bond. Draco analysed the Gryffindor, watching how Harry looked resigned at Harley’s unspoken challenge and sighed. He had so been hoping for a nice relaxing day.

"How could I deny such a request." He gave a polite smile, walking off with Peter so that they had enough space on the mats to get ready without having Harry out of his sight. Draco did a double take as Peter bent in half backwards.

"How... how did you do that?" he asked, bewildered.

"Oh, uh..." Peter blushed and took a deep breath. "I'm Spiderman." Draco stared at him with intrigue and confusion.

"Is that like, a sex thing?" Draco looked at him, unimpressed.

"No. Uh, no, nope. No, I'm a..." He stuttered, going red before shaking his head and crossing his arms, stepping closer to Draco. "Y'know, considering you and Harry went to an Amish school, you guys sure are incredibly sex-oriented." Peter groaned, running a hand down his face. Draco smirked.

"But won't being taught that it's a sin make your lips taste that much sweeter?" He purred, letting his eyes wonder down to Peter's lips, tracking the tongue that peeked out to wet them with a languid gaze. Peter squeaked as a large cough emitted from close by. Peter jumped, looking guiltily at Steve, who was staring at them with a disapproving expression. Draco just rolled his neck, stepping back to defuse the tension. Peter picked up some punching pads, slipping them on before talking Draco through how to throw a punch and the two became lost in their own world. Steve, who was very much of the impression that Draco was dating Harry, was not impressed by the boy’s loose loyalty.  Harry, on the other hand, was really impressed at how good Draco was at flirting, and hoped for some pointers. Harley thought both Draco and Harry deserved each other, and if they put as much attention into each other as they did with stealing Harley’s family, perhaps they’d finally leave.

"Alright, so, first, I want to see where you are." Harley gave a fake smile before he threw a punch. Harry’s eyes widened as he saw it coming and after a split-second hesitation, held himself still to allow it to hit him, causing his face to snap back as pain bloomed from his eye. The Avengers started to stand, but Harry waved them away.

"My mistake," he said, directing it at them as he stared directly at Harley who grinned sharply, baring his teeth. So. It was like that, was it? Fine. He could play the punching bag.

Harley kept hitting him, each time pretending to offer advice about how to avoid it and then moving to the practical application too quickly for a beginner to understand how to implement the techniques. Harry was not a beginner, and he was not enjoying the power display.

“Harry.” Draco snapped from where he was running through his own teaching session, the blonde boy’s eyes practically screaming fight back. Harry shook his head, ignoring the glare he was given in response. Draco was new here, he didn’t understand the hierarchy. This was the muggle world, and Harry knew that every home had rules. There was a pecking order. No matter what people pretended outside of it, there would always be the people that hit, and those that stood to receive it with a thank you on their bloodied tongue. The language changed, the walls changed, the faces changed, but the shape of it stayed horribly familiar. It was actually rather comforting. Merlin, his life was pathetic. He was broken out of his self-pitying thoughts with a punch to his ribs.

"Oh dear, Harry, did you forget to block? That's alright, we can run through it again," Harley boasted mockingly. Draco and Peter looked over at Harry worriedly, not stepping in due to the firm look Harry gave them when they started to walk towards him.

"Draco... couldn't Harry..." Peter trailed off, not knowing how to convey that Harry had kicked his enhanced arse, so why wasn't he doing the same now. Draco punched the punching pad slightly harder than needed.

"Yes. He could," he growled, blowing a piece of hair out of his face.

"So... why isn't he?" Peter prodded.

"Because he’s muggle-raised," he snarled, causing Peter to frown slightly at the weird slang.

"I'm not letting this continue. I love Harley, but he's being a bully," he said decisively.

"Hey, should we take a small break? Maybe change partners?" Peter asked tensely, wanting to talk to Harley. Harry nodded, grateful, and stepped away, turning his back to walk towards Peter and Draco. Except Harley hadn't been paying attention to the outside conversation and lunged for Harry. Draco saw, almost in slow motion, the very moment Harry forgot it was training, his shoulders loosening with the familiar anticipation of a fight. Harry's body knew this version of violence. Knew the split second where rules vanished and survival took over. He swirled around, grabbing Harley and using his momentum to judo flip the southern teen to the floor. Harry shoved his forearm against Harley's throat, some primal part that had grown in Azkaban thrilled by the prospect of victory. Everyone stopped what they were doing. The adults made a start, as if to finally get involved, now that their precious muggle had been harmed, Draco thought harshly, but Draco silenced their movements with a snarl.

Draco stepped forward, sitting next to where Harry was still keeping Harley in a rather hard choke hold.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" he said casually. Harley's eyes bulged out of his head as he realised the blonde didn't particularly care about saving him. Harry looked at him briefly.

"I don't have my weapons," he muttered angrily. Draco shifted his weight until he could better see Harry’s eyes and sighed. He was drifting. His eyes not quite focusing, his voice a half-step away, as if part of him were still somewhere else entirely. Not the training room, not the mats. Somewhere older. Colder. More dangerous.

"You don't. Because you asked me to hide them when you realised we would be in a high-pressure situation today. Remember?" Draco prompted.

"It's blue," Harry said, confused. Remembering their conversation from last night, Draco smiled reassuringly.

"Indeed." He waited for Harry to process it all, watching as he released Harley, who promptly rolled to the side and started coughing at the onslaught of air he'd been deprived of. Harry sat on the floor next to Harley, not seemingly bothered by the boy dry heaving but rather just staring at the floor, his arms propped up on his knees. He looked abruptly emptied out, the violence gone from him so quickly it left behind something young and exhausted. Like whatever had surged up to protect him had burned through its fuel and left the rest of him to deal with the wreckage.

"Harry?" Natasha prompted, looking suspicious. She saw him curse, his posture tensing before it deliberately relaxed, and he looked up at her with an innocent smile.

"Yes, Nat?"

She gave him a look. "You aren't a beginner, are you?" she asked rhetorically.

"That's a possibility, yes."

"Right. Get up. You're going to spar with me." She gestured for him to follow her to the centre of the room, the teens all moving to the side to watch.

"Do you really think you should be the one to assess him?" Wanda asked nervously.

"Bucky, Steve, and Peter have super strength, and I don't plan on getting a talking-to because they don't know how to pull their punches. And you rely too heavily on magic for fighting, which won't let me get a good reading of where he is," Nat explained, smiling reassuringly at Harry. She gestured for him to follow her into the centre of the mats, watching him stand so very still as he assessed her. They got in position and the match began. They started circling each other.

"So, where did you learn to fight? And how long have you been doing it?" she questioned, watching his footwork. He certainly wasn’t professionally trained, that was for sure, but he was practiced.

"When I was young, this guy taught me how to fight when he saw me being bullied. He would help me when he was around the neighbourhood. Add in that my last few years have been tense and you get an okay foundation for this kind of thing," he said shortly as Nat threw a punch, which he dodged. They went back to circling each other.

"You know—most men take the first move," she told him, not pausing her watchful gaze as she observed his body posture. He wasn't showing any signs of nervous anticipation, something everyone showed at the beginning of a fight unless they'd been doing it too long.

She had the abstract thought that perhaps this cult had been more like the Red Room than they'd wanted to consider. But that was a question for another time. Right now, was the time for patience. Patience for the other to make the first move.

They ran out of patience at the same time.

She ran at him as he lunged down to kick out her knees. She threw her weight up, obviously planning to throw him off his rhythm as her legs wrapped around his throat, but he assessed her jump, planning for it.

He twisted to fall on his arms, preventing her from using his body as a landing spot, and jutted his legs out to make contact with hers, bringing her back from the air.

She changed her direction as he brought her down, grabbing his arms and straddling him as she fell.

Harley wolf-whistled, thinking this would distract Harry.

It just pissed him off.

She removed one of her hands from his arms, going for a punch, which hit the temple of his head.

He winced at the onslaught of pain but worked through it as she went for another punch, grabbing her hand and twisting her wrist to the point of breaking.

"Stop playing, Harry," Draco drawled from the sidelines, looking bored. Slowly, the other observers turned looked at him, clearly concluding he were crazy. Draco didn't take his eyes off the fight. Harry threw Draco a sharp grin, more teeth than anything, and head-butted Nat as he pulled her wrist to the side, forcing her to the left. He regretted that idea as his head ached even more from the force he had inflicted on his already sore temple. Harry rolled with her momentum, using it to end up on top of her. His weight was distributed across her front keeping his opposition pinned. Her hands were pinned under his knees, his hands loosely circling her throat at the exact pressure points needed to kill her the quickest. It was too clean. Too fast. Not the messy aggression of a teenager scrapping above his weight, but the cold economy of someone who had learned that hesitation got you hurt.

They stared at each other for a moment. She tapped his knee three times and he immediately rolled off. No one said anything, completely in shock over what had happened. That... that wasn't how it was supposed to go. Even Natasha was shocked.

Harry didn't say anything at first, looking incredibly guilty for winning.

"Sorry," he said awkwardly, making Nat grin.

"Why? That was a good fight. I'm proud of you," she reassured him. He looked at her like she hung the moon in the sky, and she patted herself on the back for having decided to adopt the little fighter. Clint pouted. Usually, he was the one to find the good fighters.

"My turn," Bucky growled, shooting a look at Natasha. Natasha gave him a warning look,

“He’s been in two fights so far. One with me. The boy is tired, he will not.”

“The boy has a name, and his name is Harry. Let’s go, princess.” Harry called out, taking a swing of the water that Draco had passed to him.

"Hey, Brat. How good are you with weapons?" Bucky gave a sly smile as Harry breathed heavily from the exertion, he'd just experienced.

"I can hold my own," he replied, ignoring the onslaught of disagreement from their audience, who did not want them to bring stabby instruments into the mix. Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Not real ones. Wood." He retrieved two wooden daggers and threw one of them at Harry, who caught it casually, making everyone slightly nervous.

"Friday? Show what's happening to Tony, please," Steve whispered, thinking that his friend definitely needed to know what was going on. Unfortunately, Tony was incredibly busy right now, planning his surprise for Harry.

"You sure you know how to use that?" Harry taunted, gesturing just a bit too low to be talking only about the weapon.

"For that, I'm making plum pie tomorrow," Bucky threatened. It was a stupid threat considering how much Harry liked plum pie, but Bucky was having problems thinking of comebacks lately whenever he was fighting with Harry. Bucky and Harry started the familiar action of circling, ignoring the jeers from the sideline.

"Bold of you to assume there will be any ingredients left for you to use." Bucky didn't deign to answer that, flipping his dagger in the air and twisting his grip as he caught it in his left metal hand, putting it in the perfect grip to stab Harry. Harry grabbed the arm as it sailed towards him, using the strong arm as a ledge to grab onto as he kicked at Bucky's stomach with both legs, using the momentum of his weight to bring Bucky's fake dagger swinging back towards Bucky's vulnerable stomach. Usually, that's all he would need to win, except as he sailed down to the floor, where he planned to slide through Bucky's open legs as Bucky stabbed himself, he was caught by the hair. Harry gave a feral grin of delight as he realised he had a challenge.

He was pulled back by the grip, causing his throat to be bared. Bucky was careful, though, ensuring that while his grip was unyielding, it wouldn't hurt Harry. Harry licked his cracked lips, using the distraction as Bucky's eyes followed the movement, to jam his elbow into one of the more vulnerable joints of the arm.

Bucky released his grip on Harry and they both staggered back, Harry feeling alive, even as his elbow stung and his head throbbed. He hadn’t felt like this since he had last been... there.

"Oh, you can fight?" Bucky gave a vicious smile, rolling his shoulders as just a tad bit more of the Winter Soldier came out to play.

A wild, unhinged smile formed on Harry's face, causing Draco to curse. "Barnes. You might want to back off now," he said tensely. He was ignored, of course. "I know activities that cause adrenaline are great for dates, but I feel like a voyeur now." He sighed, ignoring everyone's inquisitive looks.

Harry jumped onto Bucky, wrapping his legs around the soldier's waist and swinging his top half down as Bucky tried to ram the knife into him, causing the wood to soar across the air. Harry used the motion of his dip to allow him to shift his position from in front of Bucky to his back, wrapping his arms around his neck for the non-fun kind of choking.

Harry felt Bucky's arm come up and place the wood dagger across his throat, his metal arm reaching back to hold the back of his neck, ensuring he could escape.

They both breathed heavily as they reached a draw.

And if Harry leaned in slightly closer, so the dagger was pressing more firmly to his throat than it had been, no one would need to know of the trust he'd given Bucky in that moment. Except for the way Bucky's left arm tightened at the back of his neck, holding him more firmly in place, as if scared Harry would lean just a bit too close and hurt himself.

They both barely breathed, neither wanting to break the spell where the fight would have to end, when a yell sounded from the door, making Harry fall to the floor in fear, accidentally slicing himself with the sharp end of the wood dagger.

The dull sting from the wood was forgotten as he caught sight of the guests.

He scrambled to stand to attention.

"Uncle?" he whispered, taking half a step back before remembering how much trouble he'd get into if he did so. The world shrank to pin focus as he saw Dudley, Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia all looking at him with hatred in their eyes, as they stood in his safe place. Behind them stood Tony with a wide smile.

"Surprise!" Harry did not move.  Draco shot up, shaking with fury.

"Uncle?" Draco repeated, narrowing his eyes on the obese man.

Draco whipped out his wand from its holster, pointing it at the family. Only the Dursleys, Draco, and Harry recognised the threat for what it was, causing tension to form.

"Boy, you tell that thing to stop pointing that at me, right now," Vernon angrily exclaimed, his face reddening.

"Draco! Put it down. Do you want everything to go to shit?" Harry yelled, knowing that if they exposed magic, the MACUSA would never grant them citizenship. Wanda was up the second Dudley stepped forward to better inspect the room, her hands already in position to summon her magic. By now, it was obvious something was happening that the majority did not understand. Tony was looking between the family and Draco, who was seemingly trying to shield Harry from their view, with a confused expression, unsure why there wasn’t a happy reunion going on.

"You bastard," Draco growled, putting down the stick. Why the fuck anyone was scared of a stick, Tony didn't know. Tony also didn't know if the curse was directed at Vernon or Harry. Unfortunately, the atmosphere wasn’t read by everyone.

"Vernon!" Harley smiled, looking at the family he'd shared his Uber with.

"Ah, Harley, how have you been?" Uncle Vernon said, holding a glint in his eyes that only Harry recognised as calculating. Bucky was tense, looking at these interactions with an unnatural stillness.

"Yeah, we’re great. How did your business meeting go?" Harley said, trying to act casual.

"It still hasn't happened yet, but I have a good feeling," Vernon replied.

"It’s so weird that you’re here. Are you coming to take Harry back?" Harley said with a hopeful look. Natasha gave a quiet growl.

"No. He isn’t," she said clearly, giving Tony such a disappointed stare that he stepped back from the force of it. Tony was so damn confused. He'd done all the maths. Harry missed his family; boom, proof he could still see them if he moved in with Tony. Harry had apparently left his cult, with his boyfriend following; boom, that gave the boyfriend a place to stay so they could have support. Harry had a history with violence at his school; boom, Tony tried to make sure that Harry would have the means to always feel safe and know how to defend himself. So why was everyone looking at him like that?

"Ah, and who might you be, little lady?" Vernon leered as he stared up and down Natasha.

"Black Widow," she said, allowing just a bit of danger to show in her eyes. The leer froze on his face as he realised who he was talking to, and he quickly changed direction.

"Bo—Harry," he switched quickly, giving a smile that promised pain if Harry didn't play along. "Why don't you introduce us to everyone? And where's our hug? We missed you."

Harry took a deep breath, shaking where he stood. For one ugly second, he considered refusing. Let Vernon make a scene. Let him choke on it. Let Tony see exactly what kind of people he'd dragged into the Tower. But Vernon had already smiled, and Harry knew that smile. It wasn't a public one. It was a later one. A private one. The kind you paid for afterwards. He walked over in silence, suddenly feeling nauseous in a way that threatened bile, allowing Vernon to hug him and Aunt Petunia to pat him on the head. He kept his face blank by force. Not because he was scared of breaking down, but because he refused to let them see which parts still worked. They didn't get that. Not here. Not in front of everyone. When he finally spoke, his voice came out wobbly as he gestured to the Avengers, feeling trapped by his uncle's hand on his shoulder.

"Thi-This is, um, this is Sergeant Barnes. The Black Widow. Captain Rogers. Wanda. Peter. And Harley, who you've already met." He stuttered, cursing himself for automatically losing all strength. Weak. He was so fucking weak.

"And I'm Draco Malfoy. I go to the same school as Harry," Draco said sharply, sounding incredibly excited at the prospect of having the Dursleys' hatred directed at him. He was silently begging them to try something, as a feral edge to his smile showed. Wanda stepped forward too, disgusted with them and itching to do something.

"Ah, you may also know me as the Scarlet Witch." She smiled with false sweetness, relishing in the disgust Harry's relatives expressed after she spoke. She was unsure whether it was because of her accent, which showed her origins, or because of her mutant genes, but either was enough to cause her excitement at the prospect of hurting them. Harry, however, was incredibly aware that the hatred had formed as soon as she said "witch."

"Charmed," Petunia sniffed, trying to hide her disdain. Tony clapped his hands, confused by what was going on and wanting to move this somewhere more comfortable.

"Should we all move to the dining room for lunch?" he asked, turning around and making his way expectantly. He needled Aunt Petunia into walking with him, asking her for stories about Harry as a child. Harry scoffed as she delegated stories about Dudley to Harry, switching out the names.

"Harry. Why don't you show me the bathroom?" Uncle Vernon demanded with the pretence of a question.

"I can show you," Bucky suggested cooly, unsure of what was going on but knowing that something sure as hell wasn't right.

"It's okay. I'll do it." Harry smiled weakly, knowing that shit would not end well for him should he not. Draco let out an angry sound.

"Don't you want to spend time with Tony? I'll show him the loo." Draco was already anticipating the rush of adrenaline he'd get when he cursed the muggle. Harry gave him a look, obviously knowing what was going through his head. From the look of things, Wanda had a similar thought thread going through her own.

"My nephew and I should get to catch up. Have some bonding time," Uncle Vernon interjected, causing Harry to swallow hard, but he gave a firm look to the few people who were loitering in obvious concern. It wasn't gratitude he felt when they hovered. It was irritation. Suspicion. A hard, ugly urge to snap at them all for standing there and making it obvious. Because if they were going to help, they should have helped already. And if they weren't, then their concern was just another thing he’d have to clean up after. No good ever came from questions.

As they started walking alone, Vernon leaned close to Harry's ear, speaking in a low tone.

"You are going to listen to me, and you are not going to speak. Am I clear, boy?" he said dangerously, grasping Harry's wrist in a punishing hold.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry bit out.

"And less sass from you. Don't forget your place," he spat, tightening the grip to such a degree that it caused Harry to whimper. They reached a deserted corridor, Vernon pulling both of them to an abrupt stop. Harry waited in suspense for an explanation as to why the Dursleys had hunted him down.

"Did you know your Headmaster is looking for you?" Uncle Vernon smiled cruelly, showcasing yellow teeth. Harry clenched his fist, his nails breaking skin as he tried to restrain himself.

"Are you going to tell him where I am?" He spat.

Crack.

The smack across his face caught him by surprise, tears welling up from the shock of pain. The tears made him furious more than anything else. Not because Vernon had hit him—because of course he had—but because his own body had betrayed him in front of the bastard. Because somewhere in the back of his mind he'd started to believe he was safe here, and Vernon had noticed. Vernon always noticed the soft spots.

"Do not treat me with such disrespect. Is that clear, boy?" Uncle Vernon snarled, stepping closer before visibly restraining himself from hitting Harry again.

"You wouldn't want your little secret to get out, would you?" Uncle Vernon sneered, knowing from the fear that Harry was truly in his grasp now. “You live with superheroes. They set the moral standard for the rest of us, even those freaks on the team. Can you imagine what they’d say if they found out pathetic you are? How unnatural? Can you imagine Iron Man’s face when he finds out that you have pissed yourself from dreams? They’d be disgusted. Is that what you want?”

"No." Harry looked down. He was floating again, going somewhere far, far away where these words couldn’t land on him.  Uncle Vernon grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to make eye contact as the man went almost purple with anger. Harry didn’t care. Harry didn’t feel anything, he was floating far away from all of this.

"No, what?" he spat.

"No, sir," Harry amended flatly. He didn’t care how much Uncle Vernon pulling his hair hurt, didn’t care that the last person who held those strands had done so tenderly. Harry James Potter did not care, because this was not happening to him.

"So, you do still remember your lessons. Good. I thought you'd need a reminder." Uncle Vernon chuckled darkly, releasing the boy.

"What do you want?" Harry asked weakly.

"Compensation. We had to house and feed you for years. We had to discipline you and never got so much as a thank you. If you want this little set-up to remain untainted by more of your kind, you will give us what we deserve. Half a million. Sound fair?" Uncle Vernon crowded Harry's face, his sour breath tainting the air.

"I-I don't have any money," Harry stammered, feeling himself start to become more aware of the whole scenario, despite how desperately he tried to convince that uncaring feeling to envelope him back in its arms.

"But your whore of a father does," Uncle Vernon reminded him. Harry looked at Uncle Vernon with shock.

"You want me to steal from Tony?" He asked in horror.

"I'm sure he was planning to give some of it to you anyway. Not as much as his actual sons, but some. You should have heard the lovely conversation I had with Mr Stark's true child when we first arrived. It was... enlightening." Vernon crowded Harry’s space, twisting his ear so Vernon could better be heard. "Did you know... that the Avengers have a strong hatred for magic? Apparently during an invasion, they all had an up-close demonstration of your demonic type and found it lacking." Vernon stared at the boy. "And do you know what makes it better?" Harry started shaking his head, desperately begging Vernon to stop talking, to stop pulling him down from where he was trying to float above it all.

"Your Headmaster decided to stop by our house. Told me some interesting things. Tell me, who do you think Tony will believe should some stories come to light?" Harry's head snapped up in panic.

"That's right... you don't honestly believe Tony will want to house a wanted criminal, do you? And the things you've done..."

"I'm innocent," Harry protested weakly.

"It's your word against all of ours. And it’s not hard to make evidence—the British Government already have reports on you. Do you really want them coming to light?" Vernon said softly, watching Harry’s breaths become tighter and tighter, making space for Vernon. Harry shook his head silently. "Ah, good, you understand." Vernon stepped back, treasuring the flinch that formed as he raised a hand to straighten the hoodie Harry was wearing.

"So... we have a deal?" Harry wanted to say no. Wanted to spit in his face. Wanted to tell him to go choke on his drills and his false moustache of authority and drag Dumbledore down to hell with him. Instead he stood there shaking, hating Vernon, hating Dumbledore, hating Tony a little for this whole catastrophe, and hating himself most for still being controllable.

"I don't know how long it'll take me to get the money," Harry said distressed, feeling his throat clog up.

"We'll be in New York for two weeks. Should I not have it by then, your Headmaster will know of your father and you. And your father will know exactly what he's housing."

Uncle Vernon laid out his conditions clearly.

"Yes, sir," Harry said in defeat. Uncle Vernon started to walk back the way they came.

"Marge always thought along the lines that if something was wrong with the bitch, something was wrong with the pup. I think in this instance, it's clear it's just you, if not even Stark genes could make you worth keeping." Harry stumbled, blinking back the stinging sensation in his eyes. He didn’t care he was being blackmailed, didn’t care Tony would sell him to the cops if he found out he stole from him, Harry didn’t fucking care, because this wasn’t happening to him. He was still in Azkaban, or in the other place, and this was all a dream. "Oh, and clean yourself up. You look pitiful."

“Yes, Sir.”

To keep with the recurring theme at the Tower, lunch was weird.

Harry couldn't eat anything. Every time he tried to pick up his fork, one look at his relatives would remind him of the consequences of doing such a thing in their presence. And considering Dudley and Aunt Petunia were caging him in, it was hard to forget their company. Bucky kept shooting him weird looks, obviously concerned about why Harry wasn’t eating and looking like he was one move away from climbing over the table to force Harry to eat.

"Harry, are you not hungry?" Bucky prompted him, knowing how important it was to eat after a workout. Harry just shook his head, looking up at his uncle as he did so, as if seeking approval. The second he realised he'd done it, heat crawled up his neck. He wanted to stab the reflex out of himself. He yanked his gaze away so sharply his chair creaked, jaw locking hard enough to ache. If anyone commented on it, he was going to start biting.

Draco seemed to have noticed this and started reciting different curses and hexes under his breath, causing Natasha to silently be impressed by his Latin vocabulary.

"Sergeant Barnes, the food is delicious, Harry simply ate a big breakfast," Draco lied, knowing Harry wouldn’t want to explain what happened. "Ah, but speaking of big... Vernon, what was it you do again?" Draco asked with a fake smile. The occupants at the table all watched in silence.

"I work at a drill company. Fine work that is. Although, I assume your sort wouldn’t understand," Vernon sneered, unaware of having fallen into Draco’s trap.

"And by my sort you mean..." Draco inquired innocently. Vernon’s eyes widened slightly, looking over at Tony, who was looking at them oddly.

"Well, er. Obviously, I just meant... you rich sort," he stumbled, looking at the well-tailored clothes Draco wore with slight envy.

"Yes, well," Draco sniffed decisively, "where I’m from is a... different experience than you may be aware of. For example, I wouldn’t ever work at your company—I’d just buy it."

He lifted his glass up slightly, in a mocking cheer. Tony was gaping now, shocked by the blonde’s behaviour to his boyfriend’s family and unsure why Harry looked like he was smothering a laugh instead of trying to defend them.

"I beg your pardon," Vernon spluttered.

"Oh, you have a lot more to beg for than just my pardon," Draco murmured darkly, before ignoring the man and slighting him by striking up a conversation with Wanda, who was all too happy to play along.

Harley was just weirded out by the atmosphere. What the fuck was Draco on? And on the subject of weird British behaviour, why the fuck did Harry let him beat him up when apparently, he could stop him? Harley knew the British were supposed to be polite, but that felt a bit far. As Harley contemplated life, the spies, Pepper, and Wanda were all glaring at the British family, not seeming to care about decorum. They didn’t touch their food, all seemingly trying to be on their best behaviour whilst ensuring the Dursleys understood who had the power.

It was a battle fought in poison-soaked tongues and silent orders for executions, given through the pretence of kindness.

All in all, the salmon seemed to have been forgotten.

"So..." Tony spoke, trying to release the weird tension. "You must have been surprised to find out I was Harry's dad." He said it with a grin. Petunia looked up stiffly.

"Not quite. My sister seemed to share your... proclivity for extra-curricular activities."

Harry clenched his fork tighter as Tony blinked, not sure if he'd heard correctly in Petunia calling her sister a whore in front of her nephew.

"Excuse me?" he asked, baffled. She pursed her lips.

"Well, I guess I should amend that—at least you seem to have grown out of your... habits. She never did."

"Because she was murdered," Harry whispered. It came out sharper than he meant it to. He hated that they could still do this; that one mention of his mother in Petunia's mouth could turn him into something raw and thirteen and furious. But in the silence that had grown as the woman spoke, it was heard as clearly as Harry’s silent cry for help. Draco gave everyone a loaded look as many opened their mouths to defend a woman they had never met. Draco knew that it had to be Tony who fought this battle. Tony felt rage.

"Are you insinuating that Lily was a..." He trailed off, not wanting to call Lily bad names in front of his son. Now, if Petunia had been slightly less jealous, perhaps she would have kept her temper. But Petunia was filled with wrath knowing that not only did Lily get the perfect life, but her son, without doing anything, got to live with a billionaire in a lavish tower.

"Lily was an abnormal, freakish, whore. Just like her freak of a so—" She didn't get to finish. Tony stood up, heaving.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"That... boy that you house deserves nothing! Where’s my reward for having to taint my household with that... that filth!" she screeched. Dudley seemed to wince whilst Vernon just looked directly at his nephew. It was no matter to him for Petunia to put the boy in his place and show Mr Stark what Harry was like. Vernon would still get his money. He’d trained the boy too well not to. "I should be prized for having to contaminate my rooms with him! Just like Lily! Infecting everything around him with death and her unholy behaviour!" Whatever she was going to continue saying was stopped as Tony slammed his hand on the table, causing the silverware to shake. Draco allowed a slow, satisfied smile to curl at his lips.

"You are incredibly lucky I don't hit women. But if you don't leave, I will not be held responsible for what I do next." His voice was cold, holding deadly rage. Harry’s mouth opened wide, his Aunt and Uncle spluttering at the words. But the family got up slowly, walking towards the elevator, recognising when to leave. All the Avengers were on their feet, some weapons already in hand, waiting for Tony's approval. Even Peter was bouncing on the balls of his feet, begging for the chance to show them just how freakish all the inhabitants of the tower were. The topic of being called freakish was a sensitive one for all; none of them were considered particularly normal, after all.

"Your son's a faggot, just so you know," Dudley blundered on, shooting a nasty look Harry's way, needing to get the last word in.

"Harley," Tony snapped, not looking away from the bastards leaving. Harley smiled, happy that he'd been given permission, and stomped towards the fat pig, hoisting his fist back before punching Dudley square in the nose. As blood squirted, Petunia shrieked; Vernon joined her, yelling about how they'd be hearing from their lawyers. Harley shook his fist out, looking at Harry, who looked completely shocked that he was being defended.

"Still don't like you. Doesn't mean you should be called slurs," he reasoned, spitting at Dudley’s feet. Harry was speechless, looking at the elevator doors close. He made eye contact with Uncle Vernon and knew, he sure as hell had to get that money or he would pay for it with blood. As Harry started to sink back into reality, the first thing he heard was his best friend shouting.

"I can't believe you let the filthy muggle hit him! I've been wanting to do that for years!" Draco was yelling at Tony, looking incredibly pissed off.

"You knew about how they treated him!" Tony shouted.

"Everyone knew! It's pretty fucking obvious if you just looked at him!" Draco yelled back, jabbing his finger angrily at the adult.

"Wait. Time out. Who here had suspicions about how the Dursleys treated Harry?" he demanded, looking incredibly serious and furious. Wanda, Pepper, Bucky, Steve, Bruce, Clint, Natasha, Peter, and Draco all raised their hands. Tony swore violently, causing Harry to jump.

"You knew! You knew and you let me bring those monsters into what is supposed to be his home!" he hollered, looking at them with such disgust.

"Well, you didn’t tell us your plans!" Clint argued, pointing at Tony accusingly.

"Because it was supposed to be a surprise! Not a fucking horror show!"

"We didn't know how to tell you," Peter whispered.

"I can think of multiple ways. For example, 'hey, Tony, Harry's relatives call him slurs and—'"

"That's why you're upset?" Harry blurted. He didn't mean for it to sound ungrateful. It just genuinely wrong-footed him. They were all shouting like something catastrophic had happened, and all he could think was that this was barely even the bad part. Which, apparently, was not a normal thought to have. Tony lowered his hands from where he'd been gesturing.

"Of course. How the hell could I not be?" Tony said thickly. And Harry looked at Tony with new eyes. He was an idiot. Protecting a fake idea of his son. Tony shifted his gaze to Draco and saw the young man glaring at the floor with intensity.

Oh.

Oh.

"Everything matters. Anything that made you feel small or hurt, anything that made you feel lesser or scared... none of that was okay," Tony whispered into Harry's hair. Harry nearly snapped at that. Nearly said, You don't know what you're talking about, because admitting Petunia’s words or Vernon's hand on his wrist had mattered felt far too close to admitting what they were. And he would rather swallow glass than hand it that cleanly to anyone. So instead, he said nothing.

The room did not settle after. If anything, it got worse. Everyone kept looking at Harry like he might shatter if they breathed too loudly, which was insulting for several reasons, chief among them being that he was still standing. Draco was still shouting at Tony, Tony was shouting at everyone else, and the rest of the room had descended into that particular kind of chaos where people were angry because they cared and Harry wanted absolutely none of it. It crawled under his skin, all that concern, all those eyes, all those almost-questions. He could feel them trying to piece it together, trying to decide how gently to handle him, and that made something hot and ugly rise in his chest. He did not need gentle. He needed everyone to stop acting like one bad lunch had changed the shape of the world. So when Peter offered Aunt May's as an escape, Harry took it before anyone could start using words he didn't want to hear. He ignored the way Tony looked at him, ignored the way Pepper squeezed his shoulder, ignored the sharp, watchful fury in Draco's face as the three of them left. If he walked fast enough, maybe the feeling of Vernon's hand on his wrist would stop following him. It didn't, of course. But by then they were already halfway down the street, and Harry had enough practice pretending he was fine to last him the walk to Queens.

"Petey-pie! What are you doing hanging out with these losers?" a cheerful sing-song voice bellowed. Harry gave a sigh as Wade came bounding up to the trio walking towards Peter's home.

Draco looked up and down the mercenary. "It's like a goblin fucked a squib," he muttered.

Wade looked at him, unimpressed. "I'm starting to think the author wants me to challenge you to a duel," he responded to everyone's confusion.

"Uh... Wade, what are you doing here?" Harry cut in. Wade gave him a smile.

"Oh well, you didn't come to your shift last night and some of the Moms came by and told me to remind you to drop by the bar to pick things up," Wade stated, starting to skip next to the trio. Harry cursed. He'd completely forgotten about his shift... and to call Sirius and Remus. Actually, he was angry at them, so ha. He totally hadn't called them on purpose. But the shift—yeah, he should have remembered. Mostly because it'd be fucking brilliant to take Draco with him and this way he would get to learn the American and British magical education systems together. Hermione was going to be so jealous.

"Oh, uh, tonight might be kind of hard to do. Is there any way I could do a double shift tomorrow? I need to catch you up on things," Harry asked, knowing that he needed to talk to TJ and inform him of Draco's presence. Having a Malfoy in America definitely meant the government needed to be informed on the basis of transparency and TJ was their middle ground.

"Ooooo, and then Petey and I can have a night of raunchy sex!" Wade clapped happily.

The younger teens looked at him blankly.

"Oh, whoops. Wrong universe." He shrugged.

"Are you a seer or something?" Draco asked, confused.

"Nah, I'm a millennial's worst nightmare." Wade did spooky hands. "A fucked-up avocado," he revealed dramatically. Draco may or may not have grabbed Peter's hand from being so weirded out.

"Hermione better take back everything she ever said about us being the weird ones," he whispered to Harry, not taking his eyes off the man. The man blew Draco a kiss as he saw the teen staring at him.

"Oh, right, I should introduce myself. I'm Deadpool. Or Wade. Either works." He wiggled his fingers in greeting at the new addition.

"I'm Malfoy. That's the one acceptable name I'll answer to," Draco answered, looking amused with the odd man.

"Malfoy?" Wade repeated coldly, taking a gun out of its holster and flicking the safety off as he aimed it at Draco. Peter immediately stepped in front of Draco, who didn't understand the danger, and glared at the mercenary.

"Should I be concerned with the object being pointed at my head right now?" Draco asked in a blasé tone, at this point just kind of used to being in danger whenever he was with Harry.

He should consider making an insurance company for Harry Potter's friends.

"Yes," Harry snapped, glaring at Wade, who refused to make eye contact with his friend.

"Wade! Stop that," Peter demanded.

"No can-do, baby boy. His daddy isn't exactly nice." Wade pushed Peter's objections away, narrowing his eyes.

"Doesn't mean he is," Harry said tersely. The answer came out sharp enough to cut. He was already tired, already raw, and Wade choosing now to start playing guard dog made something in him bristle. He did not want Draco protected like that. He did not want anyone looking too closely at anything today. Wade took his attention off Draco to smile a shark's smile.

"You didn't have that bruise on your eye and wrist last time I saw you," Wade rebutted. All three teens froze at that, but for different reasons.

"When in Merlin's name did you get a bruise on your wrist?" Draco shouted angrily, stalking over to where Harry was, not caring about the gun tracking his movements. Harry shot Wade a pissed-off look as Peter and Draco rolled up his sleeves and started fussing over the fingerprint bruise that swallowed his wrist.

"Waaaaade," Harry groaned, just too tired to deal with any drama today.

"What the fuck did I do!" Wade yelped.

"Now they're going to overreact," Harry groaned. He meant it, too. The irritation rose faster than the embarrassment. It always did when people latched onto the wrong part. A bruise was manageable. A bruise was simple. Other people making it into a whole thing—hovering, demanding, deciding he needed protecting—was unbearable. Draco whacked Harry across the head, making Wade cock the gun at the movement. Draco didn't care, placing his hands on his hips.

"What? Like how Mione and I overreacted when Umbridge used an illegal blood quill on you!" Draco emphasised.

"I went through a very emotional upheaval today! I'm vulnerable! Stop bringing up the past!" Harry tried, hoping that would get Draco off his case. It didn't.

"Harry James Potter, I swear to Merlin if you try to guilt me I'll tell Hermione you have a phone. And then she can lecture you. No, wait... I'll tell Ron!" Draco crossed his arms with a smug look, knowing he'd won. Ron was the most loyal friend and would have no worries about risking the Statute of Secrecy for revenge over his best friend.

"And I'll tell MJ," Peter interjected awkwardly, wanting to be part of this. The three looked over at him and he shuffled his feet gawkily.

"She's my scary friend," he fumbled in explanation. Draco nodded.

“And he’ll tell MJ.”

"He's such a cutie. Why the fuck did the author ship you two together?" Wade glared accusingly at Draco, who simply looked at the adorable doe-eyed boy with hearts in his eyes.

"Draco is good. He has literally saved my life multiple times and is one of my best friends," Harry explained, looking like he was about to collapse from exhaustion.

"And the bruise?" Wade said unyieldingly.

"My father invited the Dursleys over. Uncle Vernon wanted to remind me of my place," Harry said emotionlessly. He said it flat on purpose. Dull. Boring. The kind of sentence people were supposed to nod at and move past. If he made it sound ugly, if he let even a shred of what it had actually felt like leak into his voice, they would all start doing that thing again—looking at him like he was breakable, like he was something damaged and delicate instead of just furious. Wade shrugged, giving a wide smile, and put the gun back in his pants.

"And?" Wade asked, begging for permission to hurt those useless pieces of shit. He didn't know everything, of course, but some shit had come out during drinking games.

"No one is allowed to hurt them, and neither are their weapons," Harry stated firmly. Seeing Wade’s eyes brighten, he expanded, "They aren't allowed to be hurt—mentally or physically, killed, blackmailed, or extorted by you or anyone." Wade looked defeated. "For now. There... there might be something we need to discuss later," Harry gave in slightly, thinking about how the hell he was going to get the money. The words tasted foul in his mouth. He hated even implying he might need help, hated that Vernon had maneuvered him into a corner where he had to think in loopholes and contingencies and later. Mostly he hated that some part of him was already calculating how long he could hide it before someone noticed.

Wade clapped excitedly.

"Oh well, that's all you had to say. I'm gonna go and inform some of the guys back at the bar. Don't want everyone to get too excited." Wade gave the subtle warning, only leaving when Harry gave a small nod. Peter, used to New York and the weirdness that came with it, just shrugged and kept leading the way to his apartment. Behind him, Draco and Harry had a quiet conversation, Draco having cast Muffliato as soon as Peter was far enough away.

"What was that warning?" Draco prompted.

Harry rubbed his eyes. "It means your wanted poster has gone international. Before, only Sirius and I had posters at the bar. Now you do too. Wade needs to go warn everyone that you're not for sale," Harry explained. Draco nodded in understanding.

"What are we wanted for officially now?" Draco asked, knowing Harry needed a laugh. The Ministry kept changing it, making it worse and worse. Harry had been able to keep track due to the posters at the bar, since he refused to talk to his arsehole godfathers.

"Domestic terrorism and murder," Harry smirked. Draco gaped at him.

"When the hell did they add in murder?!"

"Yesterday? Wade sent me a picture of the new poster before you arrived," Harry shrugged.

"But... but you haven't killed anyone," Draco asked, confused.

"They're saying I killed Cedric," Harry whispered, ignoring the white-lie Draco had uttered. Draco stopped and looked at Harry, his heart feeling heavy as he realised Harry had very much planned on not telling him about the new charges and how they were affecting him.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered. Harry shrugged him off.

"It's fine. This day has been heavy enough. Let's just move on." His tone went hard there, not careless but final. A line in the sand. He did not want sympathy for Cedric, or pity, or that awful quiet people got when they realised which ghosts still lived under your skin. He wanted movement. Noise. Anything except Draco looking at him like that. He cancelled the spell and went to where Peter was standing, falling into conversation with him. Draco scrunched his eyes shut, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He enjoyed the lack of light assaulting his senses for a few seconds before opening them and allowing everything to filter back in. He knew who was responsible for adding the new charge. His fucking father. Lucius had threatened to do so if Draco didn't fall in line, and he'd apparently made good on his promise as soon as he realised Draco had left the country. As he ran slightly to catch up with his friends, he thought of a random line he'd read once in a book:

Child soldier, come marching home.

How odd, he thought morosely, that a child would ever again want to see the parents that allowed them to experience war.

When they got to the house in which Draco was informed Peter lived, he was confused. It was rather run-down, and Draco could think of multiple easy spells which would fix the place right up. He had manners, though, and didn't mention it to his host. It may have slipped his mind that muggles didn't have magic, but fuck you all for judging, it's been a tiring day. What shocked him the most, however, was when they entered the house and... it was made up of smaller houses? It was apparently the same set-up that Mr Stark held in his Tower, except that no one knew each other, and they had no communal rooms. Apparently, it was called an apartment. They were led up a never-ending staircase, which reminded Draco that he needed to start working out again, now that Quidditch wasn't an option for him to indulge in. Finally, they reached the floor Peter lived on, Draco dying of a stitch and utterly undignified.

And that's how Draco met the Parents. Well, Aunt May. Red-faced and sweaty, whilst cursing up a storm.

"And who is this lovely young man?" a kind voice laughed. Draco looked at the lady and tried to give a smile.

"Thank you for agreeing to entertain us, madam," he said breathily, trying to keep his composure as his stitch refused to go away.

She looked at him, amused. "Well, he's a bit of a charmer, now isn't he? Trying to impress me?" Aunt May laughed gently, teasing her nephew. Draco just smiled in socially inept, unsure what to do, considering his only aunt he had contact with was Aunt Bellatrix. Who, y'know, was in jail. Thanks to his best friend. Who was technically her distant nephew. Draco tried not to think about it.

"Aunt Maaaay," Peter whined, hiding a smile as she ruffled his hair. He looked up and saw Harry standing by the doorway, awkward as they come.

"This is Harry. Harry, Aunt May," Peter introduced, trying to communicate with his eyes to Aunt May to be extra nice.

"I don't suppose you have a fancy greeting for me too, huh?"

"They're Amish," Peter stage-whispered, trying to explain why Draco had been so polite.

Her eyebrows raised.

"Oh, that's so interesting!" she gushed.

"Tha-thank you, ma'am," Harry said, rubbing the back of his head, internally groaning at himself for acting so weird. He could feel himself doing it in real time—going careful, going polite, going smaller around an older woman with a warm smile because that had never once been a neutral thing in his life. His body had already decided the rules before his brain could catch up.

"Oh, none of that nonsense. Call me May," she insisted. Harry and Draco both nodded, neither planning on calling her only by her given name at any point. She looked at them like she knew what they were thinking and both boys squirmed.

"Right, well, I won't keep you. I'm making brownies so you'll have to stay for that and then Happy can take you anywhere you want to go," she said, blushing as she thought of the man she was kind of seeing but not really.

"Would you like me to help with the brownies?" Harry asked, already rolling up his sleeves to help, as that was what he assumed was expected. Everyone helped at the Weasleys', and he was solely in charge of cooking at the Dursleys', so this seemed like the logical step. Also, doing something with his hands felt safer than standing there being looked after. Being a guest was one thing. Being useless in someone else's kitchen was another.

She smiled, shooing him away. "Nonsense. You're having a playdate."

"It's not a playdate! I'm too old for those. It's hanging out," Peter insisted. Both wizards tensed as they waited for the authority figure to punish him for speaking to her so plainly and blinked when she didn't. They gave each other matching confused looks.

"Alright, grown-ups. Tell me if you want a glass of milk for the brownies once they're done."

She kissed Peter's forehead and then disappeared, leaving Peter with two teens having a midlife crisis as they re-evaluated everything. Literally every maternal or paternal adult they had a relationship with had been violent when they first met them.

Hagrid—knocked a door down and cursed his cousin.

Molly—yelled at her children.

Sirius—tried to kill them. Well, Ron's rat, but at that point the line was blurry.

Remus—showed them their biggest fear.

Does Harry need to go on? Fuck it, might as well.

Nat—locked him in an interrogation room.

Pepper—yanked him by the ear and shouted at him. That wasn't really her fault though; she thought it was Tony.

Weasel—threatened to shoot him unless he vacated the property until he recognised the scar. That was fun. They still laughed about that.

Tony—accused his godfather of being a child groomer. Never letting that go, by the way.

Honestly, there were more, and Harry didn't have enough time and that... that's actually a bit concerning. The point is, this was the first time they'd met a woman who was maternal and hadn't tried to hurt them, and it was weird. The few hours that followed were even odder.

For starters, when they settled in to watch Legally Blonde, Aunt May came with a steaming pile of brownies and let them not only eat on the sofa but joined them. And didn't even get angry when crumbs fell. It was... unexpected. Harry kept waiting for the correction anyway. The pointed look. The snapped order to sit properly, stop that, don't make a mess. Every small kindness came with a strange, disorienting beat afterwards where nothing bad happened, and that almost felt worse. Like missing a step in the dark. But the best part of the evening was when Draco and Harry said they should probably start going back—they knew they needed to face the music—and when May asked them where Happy should drop them off, they replied, "Avengers Tower."

"Oh..." she said faintly. "You guys are..." She trailed off, not wanting to say superheroes if they weren't.

"Oh, he's Tony's son. I'm just there for the ride," Draco smiled, feeling incredibly smug as she did a double take.

"Do you mean—biologically?" she whispered, already planning on booking a brunch with Nat and Pepper so she could scold them for not informing her.

"Yeah. I'm with him for the summer," Harry said shyly. Aunt May smiled warmly at him.

"Well, good. Then you're already family." And with that sentence—that was definitely going to keep the boys awake at night—she pushed them gently out the door with a tray of brownies to take with them. The door was thin enough that as she closed it, both boys heard her announce,

"I like them. I want them over for family takeout once a week." Neither boy looked at each other, both too busy blushing, trying to hide that feeling of maternal warmth.

Maybe aunts weren't that bad after all.

"I thought you said focaccia was the bread of good omens," Bruce whispered to Tony as they stared at the new arrivals.

It had been around half an hour since they arrived, and the only person who wasn't staring at them uncomfortably was Clint, who was incredibly happy, eating the bread they'd all made together. Was bread supposed to proof overnight?

Yes.

But Bucky was smart.

He had made the dough for focaccia last night and just didn't tell his friends that. So they got to get all their aggression out, and then Bucky pretended the bread only needed to proof for two hours. So both breads were in the bread drawer. He'd then just taken out last night's dough that had proofed for enough time and put that in the oven. The Avengers were none the wiser.

The world's mightiest defenders, everyone.

"That's what my mom always told me," Tony whispered back.

"Oh, quiet. It's not like I'm particularly thrilled to be here either," the guest replied.

The Avengers frowned. They couldn't believe they forgot who was arriving today.

Well, in their defence, they'd been incredibly aware of the time in which their guest would appear, until all the shit had gone down. The elevator dinged and Tony just had one thought.

"Did anyone tell the Amish boys about the pagan gods?" he yelped in urgency. Loki gained the most delighted expression on his face as he realised the chaos he could cause.

"Shit! Hide the gods!" Bruce yelled, trying to shove Thor and only getting an enthusiastic hug in return.

It was too late.

The doors had opened to reveal two tired-looking boys.

They didn't even pause as they walked into the room, putting the tray of what looked like Aunt May's brownies down on the counter. Harry didn't look up. Not properly. He clocked the room in fragments; positions, exits, tension, but refused to engage with whatever new problem Tony had apparently invited into his life. He was still too full of Vernon’s voice in his head, still too aware of how quickly “safe” had turned into something else. He was done reacting. Let them explain themselves first. 

Yet, as soon as Draco and Harry walked past Loki, all three tensed.

"Well, well, well. What a... magical surprise," Loki drawled, thanking Odin for causing his punishment to occur here. The fun they could have with what must be two muggle-borns who went to an Amish school. He would really enjoy breaking their worldview.

It was like Yule came early, he thought gleefully. 

Except whatever anyone in the room had expected, it wasn't the always cold-faced and put-together Draco... fangirling.

"Holy Merlin! Harry! Get your arse over here! It's Loki!" he remarked with heart eyes. "Can I just say, I am such a big fan of yours. I'm in your son's house at school and just—wow. We grew up learning about your... presence and just—Harry, it's Loki!" Draco was jumping up and down now, tugging Harry's sleeve in excitement. Loki took a step back, not used to such a positive response.

"Thor," Loki whispered, not taking his eyes off the magic user. "What is going on?" He shot a frantic look to his brother, who just looked incredibly amused.

"It would seem you have an admirer," Thor remarked.

There was silence as everyone stood in either admiration, confusion, or horror over the proceedings. Harry, however, had gone very still.  Gods. Of course there were gods. Why not. Why not add that on top of everything else.

Except then Harry chipped in, having remembered a tale Hermione had told him,

"Is it true you fucked a horse?"

Chapter Text

"Is it true you fucked a horse?"

Everyone blinked before Draco raised a considering brow. "Is it?"

"You're taking that tale out of context. I was in my mirroring form. And don't be so crass." Loki started edging off, subtly pushing Thor slightly forward to take the heat off him.

Thor frowned, clearly realising his introverted brother had not prepared for this line of questioning. "Young mortal, did you know I have endeavoured in many festivities myself? Indeed, once, I was married off as a bride and—" Thor cut himself off with a winning smile. The three magic users looked at him, entirely unimpressed.

"Have you fucked a horse?" Harry asked suspiciously.

The Avengers were starting to get a little worried about Harry's fixation on the horse. Harry just wanted to know how the fuck something like that was anatomically possible and had, on multiple deeply unfortunate occasions, wondered if Sirius had ever fucked a dog whilst transformed and what the offspring would even look like. This was not the first time he had entertained thoughts like that either, having once theorised that perhaps some Animagus wizard had shagged an animal in their transformed state and that was how centaurs existed. When he had voiced this theory to Sirius, he'd been locked outside Grimmauld Place for an hour whilst his godfather did what Harry could only describe as the ick dance, repeatedly cursing both James Potter and genetics for producing a child capable of asking the exact same horrific questions his father once had.

"I, uh... have not," Thor answered awkwardly.

Harry nodded decisively. "Then Loki is cooler."

Everyone gaped, mouths hanging open, but Draco looked furious. "No. No way. Get your own god. I bagsie Loki."

"You can't bagsie a god," Harry denied immediately, crossing his arms.

"Uh... I think I can because I just did. Besides, Thor has that whole loud and red thing going on. Isn't that more your vibe?" Draco asked snidely.

"I was almost in Slytherin!" Harry argued, his voice raising in pitch. 

"But were you?" Draco asked silkily.

Harry blinked, in confusion. "Huh?"

"But. Were. You?" Draco repeated slowly, as if speaking to someone particularly dim. Harry scowled, well used to Draco's skill. "You said you were almost in Slytherin. But you weren't. Which means you can almost bagsie the god."

"I'm going to almost stab you," Harry decided, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his neck.

"With what? I hid your toys, remember?" Draco said smugly, not looking worried in the slightest.

"Fine. No food." Harry smiled victoriously, already knowing he'd won.

Draco looked at him with utter betrayal in his eyes. "You Gryffindor bastard!"

"Okay! Time out. Calm it, Elle Woods," Tony cut in, stepping between them, directing the latter comment firmly at Draco. Draco didn't step down, watching Stark with irritation as his path to Harry was blocked.  "What is going on?" he asked sternly, fully breaking out the Dad Voice. Oh God. He had a Dad Voice. The two teenagers glared at each other sullenly until Loki finally interjected.

"I beg your pardon for interrupting, but... are you two arguing over which of you I should patron?" Loki asked in disbelief.

Draco looked at the god flatly, deflating from pride as those words sunk in. "Never mind. He's daft. You can have the god."

Harry immediately looked affronted. "Well, now I don't want the god."

"Well, I didn't want to deal with false advertising. Loki is supposed to be cunning, not slow." Draco snapped back, casting Loki a dirty look. 

"Draco, you think everyone is slow." Harry argued impatiently, placing a hand on his hip. 

"Not true. I don't think Hermione is slow." Draco waved the accusation away dismissively.

Tony snapped his fingers sharply, visibly irritated at being ignored again. "Okay, people, let's bring it back. You guys do realise Loki is a real god, right?"

Draco frowned at Harry. "I thought your father was supposedly equivalent to a genius according to Muggles?"

Harry looked mildly betrayed. "Uh... so did I?"

Draco sighed dramatically, turning his attention to Stark. "Obviously we understand Loki is a real god. Unlike the rest of you, we have this magical power called observation." Draco rolled his eyes, watching as Stark's eye twitched. 

"And... you don't have a problem with that?" Tony asked cautiously. The rest of the merry little group of Avengers leaned in. 

"No. Why would I?" Draco responded shortly.

Tony stared at him. "Because... you're Amish?"

"And?" Draco said with irritation. 

"The Amish believe in the Abrahamic God?" Tony answered uncertainly. Draco and Harry froze. Slowly, both boys turned to stare at Loki, where the god was watching the confrontation with unbridled glee. Draco opened his mouth, clearly about to explain exactly why monotheism was a stupid concept when Harry abruptly grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Well, uh..." Harry laughed awkwardly. "There's gotta be a reason we left, right? Hard to hold onto a belief system when there's direct proof against it." Harry attempted a reassuring smile. It came out looking more like a hostage grimace.

"Was the torture not enough reason for them to leave?" Clint whispered to Natasha. There was a painful silence.

"So," Loki drawled finally, folding his arms with mock boredom, "would anyone care to enlighten my brother and I as to why you have two Muggle-borns living with you?"

"What's a Muggle-born?" Bucky questioned, casting his eyes around the room, and Harry looked away before they could reach him.

Loki opened his mouth to explain, only to pause at the immediate panic on the boys' faces. "It's a term I use to describe those beneath me," he said smoothly instead, fluttering his eyelashes innocently. The exhale of relief from both boys was immediate. Fascinating, Loki realised, a wicked grin stretching his face, so they knew they were wizards. But the Muggles didn't. It was almost incredible to see the young brunette try and convince him silently across the room not to delverge his secrets, the wizzard mimicking a hand slicing across his neck. Loki just raised an eyebrow in disapproval. The brunette most certainly would not have survived in his House. The child possessed all the subtlety of an exploding star.

"Great," Tony clapped his hands once. "Well, no offence, but I need to have a chat with my kid before we all piss off to bed, so—" He made vague shooing motions at the gods.

"I'll show you where you'll be staying," Bruce offered kindly, looking relieved to see Thor again. Loki gave Draco a meaningful look before following after them. Draco nodded once in understanding. They would need to talk. Harry, Pepper, and Tony all exchanged a glance, Pepper immediately recognising the look on Harry's face. It was the I know you're about to force me into a feelings conversation and I'd literally rather fly a nuke into space first look. Pepper hated that look.

"Do you boys want to go for a walk?" she asked lightly.

Tony and Harry agreed far too quickly.

Pepper narrowed her eyes.

Suspicious.

The three of them headed down towards the lobby, waving absently at staff members who greeted them as they passed. Nobody questioned the appearance of the dark-haired teenager wandering around Stark Tower. The employees were buried under enough NDAs to legally qualify as hostages and, honestly, most of them had quietly adopted Harry weeks ago.

Harry still didn’t know what to do with that. Every time someone smiled at him in the elevator or slid him an extra dessert from the kitchens, some horrible tight feeling twisted in his chest, equal parts warmth and panic, because people weren’t supposed to notice him kindly. They were supposed to tolerate him at best.

"Have you done any tourist things yet?" Pepper asked once they stepped out into the evening air.

"I haven't really had time," Harry admitted with a shrug, shoving his hands into the sleeves of the hoodie. The evening breeze caught at his hair, messy from where he’d clearly been tugging at it all day. "Spent most of the first few weeks convinced someone was going to murder me in an alley. Seeing the Statue of Liberty didn't exactly feel high priority."

Tony perked up instantly. "Well, Thor and Loki haven't either. We could make a whole thing of it."

Harry lit up so quickly it physically hurt Pepper's heart. It wasn’t even subtle. His whole face changed; shoulders loosening, eyes brightening with something painfully young and hopeful. For one split second he looked seventeen instead of exhausted.

"That sounds awesome!" And just like that, Harry launched into an enthusiastic discussion with Tony about everything they needed to do in New York, talking with his hands now, words spilling over themselves in excitement.

"We should go to Times Square at night because apparently it looks fake? Oh—and the massive toy shop. And those hotdog stands because I refuse to believe Americans actually eat spray cheese willingly."

Tony looked delighted already. "Oh, buddy, you have no idea how horrifying this country gets."

Pepper smiled faintly before suddenly narrowing her eyes. Oh. Oh, the little shit was deflecting. "Harry?"

The teenager glanced at her guiltily. There it was again; that immediate caution slipping over him so fast it was almost instinctive, excitement vanishing behind wariness in the space of a breath. "Not getting out of it, huh?"

"This one has been trying those tricks a lot longer than you," Pepper informed him dryly, patting Tony's arm.

Tony looked offended for all of three seconds before realisation dawned on him. "Right. Yeah. Nice try, kid."

Harry groaned dramatically, throwing his head back towards the sky. "I can't believe I'm being psychologically profiled by middle-aged people."

"You called me old again and I will emotionally recover from it eventually," Tony informed him solemnly.

"So... what do you want to know?" Harry sighed. The humour drained from Tony’s face almost instantly.

"I want to understand you," Tony said quietly. There was something strange in his expression now, something careful and almost uncertain beneath the usual bravado, like he was terrified of pushing too hard and losing ground he’d barely gained. "What you've gone through."

"You grew up in an emotionally and physically abusive home," Pepper added carefully, "where you were kept in a cupboard for years."

Harry stared straight ahead as they walked towards Central Park, jaw tightening. His hands disappeared further into his sleeves. Defensive. Smaller somehow.

"You then went to an Amish school that basically counts as a cult," Tony continued.

"And you were hurt there too," Pepper added softly.

Tony suddenly snapped his fingers. "You also beat the Winter Soldier in a fight. We should definitely circle back to that because he was literally trained as an assassin for seventy years."

Harry stopped walking. The expression on his face changed instantly; wary, sharp, cornered. Pepper watched the shift happen in real time. One second there had been a teenager beside them and the next there was something feral and defensive instead, every instinct screaming danger.

"I know all that," he snapped. "Why are you bringing it up?"

"Because we're scared for you!" Tony burst out, grabbing Harry lightly by the shoulders. His voice cracked around the edges in a way Harry had never heard before, panic bleeding through the frustration. "I want you safe and half the time it feels like I can't guarantee that!"

Harry's eyes turned glassy immediately, stubbornly refusing to let the tears fall. His throat worked hard. He hated crying. Hated it. The Dursleys had beaten it out of him young enough that tears now felt less like relief and more like failure.

"You are my son," Tony said fiercely. "One of the most important people in my life. I will do whatever I can to protect you and that means knowing what's going on in here." He tapped the side of Harry's head gently.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, Uncle Vernon's threats flashing through his mind, followed immediately by the tension around Loki and magic and everything he absolutely could not tell them. The words hit somewhere deep and ugly inside him because a part of him wanted—desperately, pathetically—to believe them. Which was dangerous. Harry knew better than anyone what happened when you trusted adults too much.

"Look..." Harry swallowed hard, shoulders tense beneath Tony’s hands. "I'll admit it. School wasn't good. Every year someone got hurt or died and for some unlucky reason I was always in the middle of it. Being in life-threatening danger nonstop for five years gives you a pretty good handle on fighting."

Pepper and Tony exchanged a look. That still did not explain how terrifyingly competent he was.

"Have you ever seen someone about all this?" Pepper asked carefully.

Harry blinked at her. "I always went to my Head of Year when stuff happened."

Tony stared at him blankly. Sometimes his child was astonishingly intelligent. Sometimes his child shared a communal braincell with a goldfish.

"Head of Year?" Pepper repeated.

Harry nodded happily. "Yeah. Best teacher ever. Well, not best teacher technically. The school itself was awful but that's because the Headmaster is..." Harry hesitated, mouth twisting unhappily. "I think he likes seeing what students can survive. Like we're experiments or something. I honestly think he knowingly hired people who wanted to hurt us." Pepper looked horrified. "But the other teachers were good," Harry added quickly. "Or... safe, at least."

Which, admittedly, was not the same thing. Safe in the sense that they probably wouldn’t hand him over to Voldemort personally. The standards at Hogwarts were honestly on the floor.

"That's..." Tony looked visibly lost. "Not comforting."

"I think it is," Harry replied earnestly.

Pepper inhaled slowly. "I think we meant something more along the lines of a therapist."

Harry frowned. "Why would I need a therapist?"

Both adults stopped walking. "Because you've gone through repeated traumatic experiences," Tony said slowly, as if this should be obvious.

Harry looked at him curiously. "Have you gone to therapy?"

Tony immediately avoided eye contact. "Uh. No."

Pepper looked like she wanted to strangle him. Harry’s eyebrows shot up instantly, expression brightening with vindication. "Aha! Hypocrite."

"I am not a hypocrite," Tony argued defensively.

"You literally just said traumatised people should go to therapy."

"Yes, well, that's for healthy well-adjusted people."

Pepper made a deeply unimpressed noise. Harry barked out a startled laugh before he could stop himself. Tony froze for half a second, visibly distracted by the sound. Harry noticed immediately and his laughter died awkwardly in his throat.

"Why not?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

"Because a lot of my issues involve highly classified information," Tony admitted awkwardly. "And SHIELD just finished cleaning out HYDRA, so discussing certain things isn't exactly safe."

Harry nodded slowly. Well, that ruled therapy out for him too then.

It's fine.

He's going to become fucking hilarious by twenty.

"Makes sense," Harry decided simply.

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. The three continued walking in silence for a moment before Tony spoke again. "So... when you were talking to Bruce earlier about missing your family. Who were you talking about?"

Harry brightened instantly. "Hermione and Ron, obviously." His voice softened around their names automatically, fondness slipping through every syllable.

He very deliberately did not mention Sirius or Remus because:

A) the bastards had grounded him in America to stop him fighting in a war.

B) Tony already seemed one inconvenience away from putting both men through a wall.

"Interesting names," Tony mused. "Hermione?"

"Hermione Granger," Harry said proudly. "Smartest girl in our year."

"And Ron?" Pepper asked.

Harry smiled immediately. "He was my first friend. Met him on the train to school. Brilliant at chess." Harry puffed his chest out slightly, remembering how deceptively intelligent Ron actually was beneath the lazy attitude and constant complaining. Ron thought like a battlefield commander; fast, instinctive, ruthless when he needed to be. If a war broke out, Harry would want Ron beside him. "He has loads of siblings too," Harry added. "And the twins could honestly give Loki a run for his money."

Tony immediately developed the expression Pepper privately referred to as the Stark Problem. Scheming. Dangerous. Likely illegal.

"They sound wonderful," Pepper said warmly, squeezing Harry's hand gently.

Harry nodded viciously. "They are."

There was something almost desperate in the way he said it, Pepper thought, like he needed them to understand this properly. Needed them to know that Ron and Hermione weren’t just friends; they were home in a way Privet Drive had never been.

Tony hesitated slightly before asking his next question. "Are they still at your school?"

Harry's expression dimmed immediately. "Yeah. Well," he corrected himself, "it's summer now so Hermione's with her parents and Ron's probably at the Burrow. That's his house," Harry clarified at their confusion. Then, quieter: "And honestly... I don't think either of them will go back unless they think Draco and I could get in trouble for not returning."

Pepper frowned. "Why does your school care so much about you and Draco?"

"You know how we mentioned our school was basically the breeding ground for either stopping or participating in those terrorist attacks?" Pepper and Tony nodded. "Right well, his father really didn't like mine. He, uh..." Harry shifted awkwardly. "He wasn't one of the good guys." Tony and Pepper nodded, remembering Draco mentioning as much when he'd first arrived. "And the Headmaster really liked that. Played up the whole predetermined fate bullshit. We, uh... we also got sorted into school houses based off a..." Harry trailed off. It wasn't exactly like he could say they got sorted by a hat. He could already hear Hermione berating him for always giving more detail than necessary. By now, the silence had stretched too long to be normal and Pepper and Tony were looking at him like he was about to have a stroke. "Personality quiz," Harry blurted out finally. "We got sorted into school houses from a personality test and then everyone expected you to live up to the stereotype." There was bitterness there now, sharp and ugly under the humour. "Our Houses were famously against each other, with his being considered the 'bad' house purely because the leader of the terrorist organisation came from it." Harry shrugged.

Pepper furrowed her eyebrows. Did the adults seriously not understand how dangerous it was to tell a bunch of children these are your defining traits and they can never change? Dear God. Tony seriously needed to have another conversation with Fury, bad mood be damned.

"I was in the red and gold house, you'll be pleased to know," Harry added, winking at Tony. Tony looked unfairly smug about that . "Draco was green and silver."

"Is that why you always wear the red hoodie?" Pepper nudged Harry teasingly. "House pride?"

Harry blushed. "It, uh... it just fits me best out of Dudley's clothes."

Tony paused mid-smirk. The fuck did his deeply concerning child just say? "You're wearing Dudley's clothes?" Tony asked flatly. "As in, your cousin who stood by while his parents abused you?"

"Well..." Harry looked genuinely confused by the question. "It's not like they were going to buy me my own stuff. They weren't exactly my biggest fans." Harry stared at them blankly.

They had literally just had the whole emotionally devastating my guardians didn't love me conversation. Did they think Aunt Petunia was taking him to Prada after beating him with a frying pan? Tony looked like he’d just swallowed broken glass. Pepper watched guilt rip across his face in real time; vicious and immediate. Because Harry said these things so casually sometimes that it became dangerously easy to forget none of this was normal.

"Tomorrow. Does that work?" Tony turned to Pepper abruptly.

Pepper was already typing rapidly on her phone. "Tony, you've known me how long? I'm already ahead of you."

"You complete me," Tony informed her lovingly.

Harry immediately made a disgusted face.

Ew.

Adults were revolting.

"I love you too," Pepper murmured fondly.

"So, uh... what's happening?" Harry asked cautiously, trying desperately to steer the conversation away from whatever middle-aged mating ritual this was.

"Oh, we're having a shopping day," Tony said casually. "Well, online shopping because I refuse to let the paparazzi discover you exist yet."

"What?" Harry asked numbly.

"You've seen how Draco dresses and you've seen how I dress. Which do you prefer?"

Harry blinked slowly. "Uh... huh?"

Pepper mercifully stepped in before Harry's brain fully shut down. "Sweetheart, we just want to get you things you'd actually feel comfortable in." Harry immediately went red. Logically, he knew they were being kind. Emotionally, however, it just felt like pity. Like charity.

Help the poor little orphan boy.

It reminded him too much of when he was younger, when neighbours would donate clothes to Aunt Petunia "for Harry." Back then it had felt like Christmas. Later, it had just become embarrassing. Because people had looked at him and immediately known his family wouldn't provide for him even when they easily could. Harry thought donating clothes was brilliant. They just should have gone to children who actually needed them instead of children whose families simply couldn't be bothered.

"It's okay," Harry muttered tightly.

Pepper and Tony exchanged another one of those secret adult looks. Harry hated those looks.

"Oh, Harry." Pepper crouched slightly so she was closer to his height. "We want to. Because you should get to dress how you want, not based on whatever your bitch of an aunt handed down." Harry wouldn't lie; her crouching was slightly humiliating. He was seventeen. When the fuck was he going to grow? Ugh. The teen angst was particularly potent today.

"I like this style," he defended awkwardly, fingers tugging at the sleeves again. The hoodie suddenly felt too warm, too noticeable under the weight of their attention.

Tony smiled reassuringly. "Then we'll stick to it. Just maybe get jeans that fit properly and a few dress shirts for when Pepper drags you to some horrifyingly expensive event."

Harry narrowed his eyes at them both, assessing carefully. "Okay. Fine. But, uh... warning? Draco's been trying to take me shopping for years. He might have opinions."

A small smile tugged at Tony's mouth. "Good," Tony declared immediately. "I love shopping and Pepper never lets me have any fun. Now I have a model, an assistant, and approximately seventeen missed Christmases to make up for."

Harry blinked.

Huh.

His family was actually kind of cool.

The thought hit him so suddenly he almost stumbled over it. Oh shit. His family was cool. Not family-family. Not really. Tony wasn't—

Harry swallowed hard.

But the man had looked terrified at the thought of Harry getting hurt. Pepper had crouched down to speak to him gently like she actually cared if he was uncomfortable. They kept including him in things like he belonged there naturally instead of like he was temporary.

How the hell was he supposed to steal half a million dollars from them?

Harry squared his shoulders. He wouldn't. He had two weeks to figure this entire mess out.

He could do this.

"So," Tony continued easily, clearly sensing the shift in Harry's mood, "have you ever had a proper American diner cheeseburger?"

Harry grinned immediately, shoving away the guilt over the fact he'd genuinely considered robbing Tony blind. Maybe that was the really dangerous thing about the Starks. They made him want things.

"Depends," Harry said suspiciously. "Is it true Americans put cheese in a can?"

Back at the Tower, Loki and Draco were assessing each other with all the caution of two apex predators circling for weaknesses.

The sitting room Bruce had left them in was painfully elegant in that aggressively expensive Stark sort of way; floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan, low amber lighting, shelves full of books nobody except maybe Bruce had actually read. Loki had claimed one side of the room near the windows like a king taking territory whilst Draco lounged opposite him on the sofa, one ankle resting neatly over his knee, silver eyes narrowed in calculation.

Neither trusted the other yet. Unfortunately, both recognised intelligence when they saw it.

"Why does your friend feel as though he's been touched by death?" Loki asked eventually, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. His tone remained deceptively idle, but Draco noticed the way his eyes tracked every minute reaction with predatory focus.

Draco's expression dimmed immediately. "Because he was," Draco answered heavily, tracing a thumb against the seam of his sleeve. "A dark wizard hit him with the old AK when he was one."

Loki’s brows drew together slightly. "That does not explain why he appears alive."

Draco gave a sharp shrug. "His mother cast some kind of protection spell on him. Honestly, nobody really understands what happened." A faint sneer tugged at his mouth then, aristocratic irritation bleeding through. "Half our society has spent sixteen years pretending they do, though. Wizards love pretending they're experts on things they fundamentally cannot comprehend."

Loki hummed softly at that, clearly finding the statement painfully familiar. "And the reason you are concealing the truth of your nature from the Avengers?"

Draco leaned further back into the sofa, though the movement was deceptive; relaxed posture hiding razor-wire tension beneath it. "They don't exactly have a positive relationship with magic," Draco sighed. His eyes flicked briefly toward the doorway Harry had disappeared through earlier before snapping back to Loki. "And the government here made it a condition when discussing whether we could receive asylum."

That caught Loki's full attention. He went utterly still. "Asylum," he repeated softly. There was something dangerous in the word coming from him now, quiet in the way thunderstorms were quiet before they broke. "Why should you require such a thing?"

Draco let out a short laugh entirely devoid of humour. "Because Britain is overrun by Dark Wizards pretending to be respectable politicians." Loki’s eyes sharpened immediately at the wording. Not monsters lurking openly in shadows then. Institutional rot. Far more difficult to kill. "Our Ministry spent years pretending the terrorist attacks weren't happening because admitting otherwise would inconvenience the people in charge," Draco continued bitterly, crossing his arms tightly. "And now half of them are trying to save themselves by quietly pretending they were never involved to begin with."

"And your people permit this?" Loki asked silkily.

Draco barked out another laugh. "Our people elected them."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Outside the windows, New York glittered gold against the darkness whilst somewhere below them traffic screamed through the streets, loud and alive and utterly disconnected from the conversation unfolding thirty floors above it.

Loki's gaze drifted slowly to the sleeve covering Draco's Dark Mark. "Is that why you wear such a revolting symbol?"

Draco's expression hardened instantly. The shift was immediate and ugly. His spine straightened; chin lifting with pure-blood hauteur even as his fingers curled sharply into the fabric over his forearm. "Yes," Draco said coldly. "Don't bring it up again. It's a sore subject."

For one brief moment, green magic flickered instinctively beneath Loki’s fingertips before disappearing again. "My apologies," Loki said immediately, dipping his head slightly.

Draco blinked once in surprise. Most adults either demanded explanations or offered pity. The apology itself felt strangely disarming. Then they simply stared at one another again, both navigating entirely unfamiliar territory.

"You are from Salazar's House?" Loki prompted eventually, one brow raising lazily.

Draco gave him a sharp smile. "But of course. Harry was nearly placed there as well before he went to Gryffindor."

Loki tilted his head thoughtfully. "Curious."

"What?"

"You do not speak of him the way rivals normally do."

Draco snorted. "Well, Gryffindors are usually intolerable." His mouth twitched despite himself. "Potter's just unfortunately attached to one."

Loki’s smile widened fractionally. "Ah, yes," he hummed. "I remember Salazar's companion now. Much preferred the girl. She valued intellect far more highly." His expression softened briefly with distant memory. "She reminded me of my mother."

Draco visibly perked up, his shoulders straightened, eyes lighting with almost scholarly fascination beneath the carefully cultivated Malfoy composure.

"You knew them personally?" Draco asked, trying and failing to sound normal about it.

Loki shot him an amused look immediately. "You are vibrating."

"I am not."

"You quite literally are."

Draco cleared his throat stiffly, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from his sleeve. "Right. Well. Historical figures tend to become somewhat mythologised after a thousand years."

"Mm. Trust me, Salazar would have adored that sentence." Draco tried very hard not to vibrate with excitement over learning Loki's personal opinions.

"Did you spend much time on Earth?" Draco asked eagerly, leaning forward slightly despite himself.

Loki rose smoothly from his seat then, beginning to stalk slowly across the room with his hands clasped behind his back. Draco’s eyes tracked him automatically. There was something deeply feline about Loki when he moved; elegant and watchful and entirely too aware of the fact people observed him. "Enough," Loki admitted. "It was an enjoyable reprieve and I would occasionally descend to bestow blessings upon my favoured worshippers." A grin tugged at his mouth then, sudden and sharp. "There was something deeply entertaining about being worshipped by people intelligent enough to appreciate chaos properly." Draco huffed a laugh. Loki continued pacing slowly near the windows, green eyes reflecting the city lights below. "It was refreshing to be somewhere Odin could not lecture me for associating with a 'lesser species,'" Loki added dryly, making quotation marks with visible disdain.

Draco scooted forward immediately. "What made them your favourites?"

Loki glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Well, I enjoyed their stories," Loki admitted. "Stories of mischief and transformation. Clever prayers were always my preference. Desperation becomes repetitive after several centuries." His mouth curved slightly at the memory. "When a god enters one of their temples, we can hear prayers spoken in our name. I would often retreat to mine whenever Odin or Thor irritated me to the point of homicidal rage."

Draco nodded in complete understanding. Ron and Hermione were wonderful, but unlike Harry, Draco occasionally needed silence away from them. Their personalities were too loud, too warm, too alive compared to what he'd grown up with. Harry understood quiet in a way the others didn’t. Harry could sit beside him for hours saying absolutely nothing and somehow it still felt like companionship rather than absence.

"I currently have a pair of twins attending your school who are particularly devoted to me," Loki mused thoughtfully. "Though their mother mostly prays for me to keep them out of trouble." A slow grin spread across his face. "Quite amusing honestly."

Draco stared at him blankly. Then horror dawned. "Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."

Loki blinked.

"Those attention whores," Draco muttered, dragging a hand down his face. His shoulders slumped with the exhaustion of someone who had survived entirely too many Weasley-related incidents.

Then Draco suddenly sat bolt upright with what was, quite frankly, a deeply concerning smile. "By any chance..." Draco drawled carefully, silver eyes gleaming, "do the names Sirius Black, James Potter, and Remus Lupin mean anything to you?"

Loki stilled mid-step. Green magic crackled briefly around his fingers. Then his eyes flashed bright emerald.

"Oh," Loki said softly.

And for the first time in millennia, the Trickster God realised he was about to have fun.

The next few days made Harry wish he'd never escaped Azkaban.

Who the fuck thought online shopping was enjoyable?

Apparently his entire damned family.

At first everyone had walked on eggshells around him, but after Harry tackled Clint into a coffee table because the man had asked if it was okay to sit beside him on the couch, things had mostly gone back to normal. Well, Clint had a black eye.

But emotionally everyone was thriving.

To be fair to Harry, Clint had approached him from behind whilst he was half asleep and instincts had simply taken over. The fact Natasha had nearly choked laughing afterwards had not helped Clint’s dignity whatsoever. Unfortunately, "normal" meant Harry had somehow ended up with an absurd amount of clothing and then been forced into performing a fashion show.

The worst part?

Loki, Draco, and Tony had teamed up.

Draco insisted he was necessary because he knew Harry best, Loki argued they needed a more feminine perspective after all the women had gotten bored and abandoned them, and Tony claimed he was the only one who actually understood Muggle fashion.

And Tony was paying for everything.

The three drama queens had spent twenty minutes arguing over which colours best complimented Harry's complexion while Harry himself sat on the sofa looking like he wanted to walk directly into traffic. He was folded into the corner cushions dramatically, hood pulled low over his messy hair, arms crossed tightly over his chest whilst he glared at the newest pile of clothing like it had personally offended him.

When he'd attempted to offer his own opinion, he'd immediately been told to shut up because apparently he had "the fashion sense of a concussed raccoon."

Harry had been deeply offended.

Now Harry sat curled in the corner of the couch, watching his ridiculous friends and family bicker whilst pointedly ignoring the pile of clothes beside him.

Tony was pacing barefoot across the living room gesturing wildly with an expensive looking sweater in one hand whilst Loki lounged across the armchair like a bored emperor and Draco sat perched sideways over the back of the sofa, sharp chin resting against his fist as he squinted critically at Harry like he was a particularly disappointing art project.

Bucky dropped onto the sofa next to him. "I feel like you're going to be trapped here longer than I was," Bucky snarked, throwing one arm lazily over the back of the couch.

Harry snorted, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. "You went through this too?"

"Yep. Once Tony and I stopped trying to kill each other, he started expressing friendship through shopping." Bucky grimaced. "It was boring as hell."

"Hell isn't boring," Harry replied automatically.

Bucky gave him a confused look, brows furrowing slightly.

"It's fine," Harry continued before he could ask, shrugging one shoulder awkwardly. "I know, at least for Draco, this makes him feel better. Makes him feel like he's keeping me safe."

There was something soft hidden underneath the words then, something quiet and instinctive that made Bucky’s chest ache unpleasantly. Harry trusted so carefully, in tiny uneven pieces, but once someone slipped past his walls he clung to them with terrifying loyalty.

Bucky looked at Harry thoughtfully. "You know, brat..." His expression softened almost despite himself. "You're a good person."

Harry looked at him cheekily, though his ears pinked faintly at the praise. "Not sure about that, but at least I'm a better fighter than you."

Bucky smiled immediately, looking absurdly delighted by the challenge. "Cheeky little shit."

Harry stuck his tongue out. Using reflexes fast enough to make Harry squawk indignantly, Bucky grabbed the end of his tongue briefly before letting go. Harry recoiled immediately, glaring at him with profound offence.

"Tramp," he muttered with absolutely no fondness whatsoever.

Definitely disdain.

Pure disdain.

Bucky barked out a laugh.

"I'm not the one with the tragic long hair," he shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Harry didn't even look offended. "Oh please, I saw your Winter Soldier look. You looked like a teenager going through an emo phase."

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with amusement. "At least I grew out of mine. Your boyfriend still seems committed to his." He jerked his chin toward Draco. Draco had somehow half-climbed onto Tony's shoulder to get a better look at the StarkPad. One polished shoe rested directly against Tony’s chest whilst Tony complained loudly about “pointy rich people knees” without making even the slightest attempt to shove him off. Draco wore fitted black trousers and a black dress shirt, green matte eyeliner smudged around his eyes courtesy of Wanda discovering makeup in his room that morning. Harry already knew painted nails were only days away now Draco no longer lived under Lucius' thumb.

Honestly, Harry gave it forty-eight hours before Draco started dressing like a Victorian vampire full time.

Loki, naturally, had copied the aesthetic entirely and looked infuriatingly good doing it.

Draco glanced up from passionately arguing that Harry required larger hoodies because Harry liked feeling hidden and safe and Tony Stark was rich enough to make oversized clothes fashionable if he really tried, tilting his head curiously at the two of them.

Harry smiled automatically. Bucky watched as Draco’s expression immediately eased in response, shoulders relaxing fractionally like seeing Harry calm physically soothed him, before the blonde boy blew Harry a kiss. Bucky scowled, only slightly appeased when Harry immediately flipped him off.

Natasha walked through the room at that exact moment. "Language," she called absently without even looking up from her phone.

Harry spotted an opportunity for escape and immediately stared pleadingly at her. He widened his eyes pathetically and slumped further into the sofa like a Victorian orphan moments away from perishing from hardship. Nat smirked.

Then kept walking.

Harry hated her.

Meanwhile, Bucky had gone strangely quiet.

He kept watching Harry and Draco, trying unsuccessfully to untangle the odd twisting feeling in his chest. Whenever he looked at Harry, his stomach clenched strangely and he just felt...

Happy.

Harry would steal food off his plate and Bucky would immediately start mentally cataloguing recipes to recreate whatever had made him smile like that.

And fighting Harry had been... freeing. Because Harry could defend himself. Bucky never had to fear hurting him.

Which was completely normal.

Totally platonic.

Entirely healthy.

And if part of him wanted to throw Draco out a window, well, Draco was still an unknown variable living in the Tower. The fact Loki was also technically an unknown variable and Bucky felt completely neutral about him was irrelevant. Completely irrelevant.

Unfortunately, Loki was watching him back.

The god’s sharp green eyes slid toward Bucky slowly, catlike and knowing, one eyebrow raising almost imperceptibly. Bucky immediately felt the violent urge to fling himself directly off Stark Tower. Bucky gave the god an awkward smile, internally praying for the ground to open and swallow him whole. Loki did not react. Instead, he leaned down gracefully and whispered something into Draco's ear. Draco’s eyes widened fractionally before narrowing with immediate suspicion. Then, slowly, a viciously entertained smile spread across his face.

Oh no.

Both of them stood immediately. Then they started walking directly toward Harry and Bucky. Bucky accepted instantly that this was how he died. Murdered by a Norse god because he had developed entirely platonic feelings for said god's worshipper's boyfriend.

"Up," Draco said sharply to Harry, jerking his chin toward the hallway. Bucky curled his lip immediately, already preparing to tell this child exactly how to treat the best thing in his life. And he meant that in, like—

Like in the way Harry was the best thing in Draco's life.

Not Bucky's.

Because this was about how your partner should be the brightest point of your life. Not how Bucky saw Harry. Because Bucky didn't like Harry.

At all.

Well, he did, but in a friend way. A normal friend-like way. An aggressively platonic way.

He turned his head to look at Harry, only to find him missing. Bucky blinked. Then looked around manically. Only to land on Tony, who was watching him with something deeply complicated in his eyes. Not judgement exactly. More like exhausted understanding mixed with second-hand embarrassment. "Loki teleported them all to Harry's room while you were having your little freak-out."

Bucky blushed instantly. "I wasn't—" His voice cracked horribly. Bucky looked personally betrayed by his own vocal cords. He cleared his throat aggressively and tried again. "I wasn't freaking out. But shouldn't you be? Like, freaking out?" He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling where Harry’s room was located. "About Loki being in the same room as Harry?"

Tony gave him an indescribable look. "There's a reason Loki's punishment isn't severe. You were there for the talk. He was controlled by a Titan, remember? We had a whole briefing about it." Bucky gave one stiff nod. Dammit.

"Right." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm sure they aren't doing anything bad. They're probably just reading magazines for Harry."

Tony stared at him flatly. "That is somehow the least believable thing you've said all week."

Bucky frowned immediately. "Okay, first of all, rude."

Back in Harry's room, the three magic users prepared for their first magic lesson.

Well. “Prepared” was a generous term.

Loki had claimed Harry’s desk chair like a king upon a throne, one leg crossed elegantly over the other whilst Draco stalked around the room in mounting irritation and Harry sat cross-legged on the bed watching the two of them with the deeply wary expression of someone who knew a disaster was rapidly approaching but lacked the energy to stop it.

"You don't need a wand," Loki drawled lazily, inspecting his nails.

Harry and Draco gave the god identical looks. Was he dumb?

"Yes, we do," Draco said flatly, squinting at him.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, we fucking do."

Loki’s lips twitched. "Then what about accidental magic?" he asked smugly. "You don't use a wand for that."

Draco rolled his eyes so hard Harry was genuinely worried they might get stuck. "Accidental magic is powered by emotion and usually doesn't occur with a specific action in mind, only a consequence," Draco explained sharply, beginning to pace the room with clipped movements. His hands sliced through the air as he spoke, expression twisting with academic offence. "The magic is released chaotically, so we would never know what we'd get if we tried to use unfocused magic. We could need a cup and, instead of transfiguring a quill into a goblet, we might be apparated to a cup shop in China."

Draco placed his hands on his hips triumphantly whilst Harry did his job as an accessory and stood behind him nodding supportively. Ron and Harry were very aware that, when it came to academics, they were the sugar babies. They would not have passed half their exams without Draco and Hermione and had long since learnt when to sit quietly beside terrifyingly intelligent people and look decorative. Ron especially had perfected the art of staring at Hermione like she’d personally hung the moon every time she verbally eviscerated someone being sexist. Honestly, Harry thought it was a miracle neither of them had realised they were in love yet.

"You can use magic without a wand because you're the god of chaos," Draco continued. "As such, the odds always favour you because you can control the flow of chaos. Chaos is stable for you and will act as you wish it to."

Loki stared at Draco for a long moment before sighing dramatically and slumping deeper into the chair. "Fine. I suppose I can concede that point." One pale hand lifted in reluctant surrender. "I must say, I haven't taught a mortal magic user in quite some time. It should be interesting to test your limits."

Harry immediately raised his hand slightly from the bed. "Uh, I'm already being taught by some really nice ladies."

Loki blinked once. Then slowly turned toward him. "Really nice ladies," he repeated carefully.

Harry nodded. "Mhm. One threatened to turn a man's organs inside out last week. She gave me a biscuit afterwards."

Loki’s expression brightened immediately. "Oh, I like her already."

"Well, obviously you will continue that," Loki continued, waving one hand dismissively. "Don't confine yourself when you have multiple teachers." He paused then, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I wonder..." Loki leaned forward slowly, green eyes brightening with genuine curiosity now. "I wonder if magic has changed for you Midgardians. Will you take me to where you perfect the craft?"

Harry gave him a small smile. "Yeah, sure," Harry agreed. "I need to introduce Draco anyway, so we can all go down to the bar and chat."

Loki gave a genuine smile of excitement, something boyishly eager flashing beneath the polished godhood. It transformed him instantly from terrifying deity into awkward teenager desperate to share interests with people who understood him. "Ah, speaking of—where are your wands?"

Draco and Harry exchanged a sheepish look.

"Harry doesn't have one," Draco admitted reluctantly before producing his own. "But here's mine." He handed it over carefully. Loki inspected it with surprising delicacy, long fingers turning the wand over thoughtfully before returning it with a small nod of approval.

"Why does Harry not have one?" Loki asked suspiciously, brows furrowing.

Harry and Draco gave matching nervous laughs. "Have you heard of Azkaban?" Draco asked in a voice several octaves too high.

Loki's face clouded instantly. The temperature in the room dropped sharply. Green magic hissed against the walls in thin crackling lines and Harry straightened instinctively at the sudden threat display. His skin seemed to shift as the colour leeched away, leaving behind the faintest blue tint beneath the glamour. "What," Loki asked slowly, dangerously, "does that place have to do with Harry's wand?"

Draco immediately reached behind himself without looking away from Loki, fingers blindly finding Harry’s sweatshirt and hauling him forward like an offering to an angry god. Harry stumbled with an offended noise. "I wanted to try being more independent, so I rented a cell there."

The silence afterwards was catastrophic. The room crackled violently with green energy.

Harry swallowed.

"Bad joke. Got it." He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Um, I was framed for a few things and shipped off there for a while. But I'm out now!" Harry gave jazz hands weakly. Draco closed his eyes briefly like he was physically pained by Harry’s coping mechanisms. Loki did not blink. He simply stared at Harry with a desolate expression slowly overtaking his features.

"I made that prison," Loki said quietly. Harry’s smile faltered immediately. "As a present to the Wizarding World. It was supposed to replicate Niflheim."

Harry gave him an awkward smile. "Bless you?"

Draco groaned loudly, dragging both hands down his face. "Niflheim," he explained tiredly, "is what the Nordic gods believe Hell is like."

Loki sniffed slightly, looking suddenly, impossibly young. "I'm so sorry," he breathed. "Odin... I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, just..." Harry shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of the guilt pouring off him. "The dementors were a bit much."

Loki’s head snapped up sharply. "You experienced dementors?" he asked brokenly.

Harry snorted humourlessly. "You could say that." His mouth twisted bitterly. "Loved the pluralist details, by the way. Really appreciated the Christian aspects." Then Harry smiled, cold and cruel. It wasn't a teenager's smile anymore. It was something exhausted and furious and deeply wounded underneath it all. Draco watched Loki physically flinch at the expression. Loki disappeared in a flash of green light.

Draco whirled on Harry instantly. "What the fuck was that for?" he yelled, stalking forward aggressively.

"He made Azkaban!" Harry shouted back, rage blooming hot and ugly beneath his ribs. "He made the place and the creatures that tortured Sirius and me!"

"Harry, did Loki look like he wanted to hurt you?" Draco demanded, shoving him hard in the chest.

Harry stumbled backwards against the desk. "It doesn't matter. He already did."

Draco shoved him again. "So did I! I bullied you for years and you don't hate me!"

"Draco, you know what I went through!" Harry shouted, yanking harshly at his own hair to ground himself.

"No. No, I don't." Draco’s voice sharpened violently. His cheeks were flushed now, silver eyes blazing with frustration and something dangerously close to fear. "Because what you went through cannot be understood through words, Harry. You could write an entire chapter about it and I still wouldn't be able to see it through your eyes!" Harry’s breathing was turning uneven. Draco grabbed his wrists hard before he could keep pulling at his hair.

"You fucking earned the title of the Boy Who Lived," Draco snapped, squeezing tightly enough to force Harry to focus on him instead of spiralling, "and you are going to live without the bitterness that forms Dark Lords."

"That's not fair," Harry said, eyes hard and glassy.

"Loki was brainwashed too." Draco’s expression tightened. "I overheard the Avengers talking while you were walking with Mr Stark. He killed people without wanting to. His father didn't care that he had no choice. Told him he had to kill someone called Thanos, then repent on Midgard until Thor believed he'd changed his ways." Draco released Harry’s wrists slowly. "He killed Thanos and now he's here."

Harry forced himself not to change his breathing pattern, keeping every inhale painfully measured. "He wasn't brainwashed when he created Azkaban," Harry said quietly.

Draco tilted his head in acknowledgement. "True. But he would have been the mental equivalent of sixteen when he did it."

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

"Gods age differently from us. He's only eighteen."

"Bullshit."

"It's true," came a booming voice from the entryway.

Oh goodie.

Thor. Holding Loki firmly by the arm.

"You expect me to believe that he—" Harry waved both arms wildly in Loki’s direction. "—is eighteen?"

Thor nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Asgardians age differently to you mere humans. I am the equivalent of twenty-five of your years, I believe."

Harry looked slowly toward Draco’s deeply smug expression before turning back to Loki. Loki now looked less like a terrifying immortal deity and more like a deeply miserable teenage boy hiding behind his brother’s shoulder. Harry pointed accusingly. "You're an arsehole."

Draco looked delighted. Loki looked mildly offended. Then Harry exhaled sharply, some of the anger draining out of him all at once. "But logically..." He rubbed tiredly at his face. "I know Azkaban is needed. Wizards are too dangerous to keep in ordinary cells."

His shoulders slumped slightly.

Defeat.

"But you don't forgive me," Loki said quietly, reading the posture immediately.

"I don't," Harry admitted.

Loki visibly flinched. Harry sighed heavily. "I still like you, though." His expression twisted awkwardly. "I just need time to separate you from Azkaban."

The confession clearly cost him something. Harry was terrible at soft emotions unless they were hidden beneath humour or violence. Then, before anybody could respond, Harry immediately decided emotional vulnerability had become illegal. He turned sharply toward the door. Thor frowned, looking between his brother and the retreating teenager. Then his face brightened suddenly.

"Young Stark!" Thor boomed loudly, striding after him. "Allow me to retell my epic battle stories!" He reached immediately for the flask at his hip.

Loki and Draco looked at each other. "His father had much less of a temper," Loki muttered, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"His father also never met the person responsible for his stay in Hell," Draco replied dryly, raising one judgemental eyebrow.

Loki hesitated. For the first time since Draco had met him, the god looked genuinely uncertain. "Do you think he will still wish to hear my tales about his father and his friends?"

Draco’s expression softened slightly. "Of course he will." He crossed his arms loosely. "Potter Sr told you years of stories through prayers. You have another part of his dad that Harry gets to hear about." Draco paused. Then, quieter: "And Harry misses him more than he knows what to do with."

Loki’s expression shifted immediately at that . "Can I make Harry a new wand?" Loki asked hesitantly.

Draco once again questioned every life choice that had led to a god asking his permission for anything. "Of course."

"Good." Loki straightened immediately, confidence returning at alarming speed. "I must be honest, I fully planned on doing it anyway, but it's useful to understand what you simple creatures prefer." Draco rolled his eyes. "Harry's wand shall contain a strand of both my hair and Thor's as its core, of course." Draco took it back.

The god was exactly what he expected.

"Why?"

"God of magic and chaos combined with god of fertility and thunder?" Loki lifted an eyebrow elegantly. "It will not only make a powerful wand, but a protective one." Then his expression darkened slightly. "It was my... mistake... allowing such young witches and wizards to ever enter Azkaban." Guilt flickered openly across his face. "I will ensure he does not feel vulnerable again."

Draco conceded the point with a slow nod. Harry deserved a powerful wand. Especially after everything. Thor and Harry stumbled back into the room a short while later, each clutching a tray of brownies, eyes slightly flushed. Loki and Draco looked at each other. It would seem they now had to deal with two of the same.

Oh dear.

"Bucky was being a dick, so we stole his food," Harry rushed out around a mouthful of brownie. Thor nodded enthusiastically beside him, looking exactly like a very large golden retriever.

"What did he do?" Loki ventured carefully.

Harry shot him one instinctively distrustful glance before visibly forcing himself to relax. "He pulled my hair as he walked past."

Draco blinked slowly. "He pulled your hair?" Draco repeated flatly. "Like he pulled your pigtails?"

Harry paused thoughtfully. "Huh. Should I wear pigtails?" He tilted his head in consideration. "Nah, wouldn't work with my face. But, uh, yeah." Harry took another aggressive bite of brownie. "Tony saw it and scowled, so hopefully Bucky gets a lecture about bullying the younger residents of the Tower." Harry looked smug.

Loki turned slowly toward Draco with an incredulous expression. "This cannot be real. James and his boys always sent offerings alongside tales of their impressive romantic prowess."

"His father may have been a great flirt," Draco said tiredly, "but Harry did not inherit the skill."

"You knew my dad?" Harry asked quietly, surprise flickering across his face.

Loki gave a hesitant nod. "He... his friends and he were rather devoted worshippers of mine. Considering my fondness for shapeshifting and mischief, their skills as Animagi and pranksters made them rather dear to me."

Harry’s expression softened immediately. "Can you tell me about him?" he asked quietly.

An olive branch. Small and awkward and painfully sincere. Loki grinned instantly. Draco joined them on the bed whilst Thor wandered off in search of Bruce.

"Of course. The first time the four boys tried to reach out to me was quite revealing." Loki leaned back against the headboard dramatically. "Specifically, your father gave a very long speech about how much they wished to communicate with me, which the wolf interrupted with..." Loki paused theatrically. "Ah yes. 'Look mate, I'm dealing with three posh bints who never learnt patience. It would be much better for you to give them a sign now so I can bugger off to bed.'"

Draco and Harry stared at him in disbelief. "You know what?" Draco said eventually. "I lived with Remus for a while and I'm actually not surprised."

"Did you give them a sign?" Harry asked eagerly. The sneer Loki gave made Harry feel deeply concerned for his parents retroactively.

"Why, of course. For a month afterwards, every time they attempted to transfigure something, it became a silver snake."

Harry choked on his brownie laughing.

"Loki is known as silver-tongued and is rather fond of snakes," Draco explained helpfully.

"But my greatest favour to them was you," Loki admitted suddenly, expression turning serious.

Harry stilled immediately.

"Your mother, Lily, prayed to me with such desperation that she reminded me of my own." Loki’s gaze drifted toward Harry’s scar. "You were not hers biologically and yet she did not hesitate to plead for your life." Harry and Draco both froze. "I..." Loki swallowed slightly. "I carved that mark onto your head. A protection rune. And when Tom Riddle tried to kill you, well..." A faint sad smile crossed his face. "A god's power is more than mortal magic."

Harry stared at him with shining eyes. His throat worked visibly before he managed: "Thanks."

Loki looked at him with immediate fond exasperation. "Dear Harry, if you are going to associate with me, you need to learn to articulate gratitude with more than simply 'thanks.'"

Harry blinked.

That was...

Okay then.

Have you ever seen a god fall asleep while two teenagers are passed out beside him?

No?

Well, it's fucking adorable.

Bucky had gone to Harry's room to bring him food, and if he had added peanuts knowing Draco and Loki disliked them, meaning only Harry would eat it? Well, whoopsie fucking doo. Anyway, he'd gone to Harry's room only to find a god passed out in a chair while Draco and Harry curled protectively around each other, Draco holding a knife worryingly close to his face. Bucky wouldn't lie. Some part of him was very tempted to leave the knife exactly where it was. If Draco cut himself on the face, that was just a bonus. Ultimately, though, he stomped forward and removed the dagger. Sometimes being the Winter Soldier had been much easier without all those pesky ethics getting in the way.

He looked down at Harry and reached out, thumbing gently at the crease between his eyebrows until it smoothed out. Harry leaned into the touch. Bucky gave a stuttering breath as Harry nuzzled into his hand.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Bucky was a terrible human being. The worst kind of scum to ever walk the face of the earth. It wasn't bad enough that he'd killed people at HYDRA's command. It wasn't bad enough that he'd stabbed his best friend a couple of times, with some of those occasions potentially not actually happening under Winter Soldier programming because Steve could get annoying. It wasn't even bad enough that he'd been far enough gone under HYDRA's programming to turn around and kill Tony's parents. No.

Now he had to go and decide that Tony's son was the most attractive being he'd ever set eyes on.

To reiterate:

The son of the man whose parents he had killed.

Who already had a boyfriend.

Who was seventeen.

Who had grown up in a cult and an abusive home and had not even started healing yet.

And who could possibly kill him.

That was the one Bucky apparently wanted to bake cakes for until the end of time.

Fuck.

He might as well start taking boiling showers to prepare for Hell.

Bucky's eyes darted around the room, only to pause when they met a pair of pale green eyes watching him.

"You feel affection for young Harry," Loki murmured quietly, careful not to wake the wizards.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Bucky denied gruffly, slowly removing his hand so as not to disturb Harry.

Loki's eyes flared green. "I am the Trickster God. Do not try your mortal tricks with me."

Bucky mimicked him childishly. "'Do not try your mortal tricks with me,'" he repeated, rolling his eyes as Loki narrowed his. "Pretentious prick." He deliberately walked straight through the illusion Loki summoned of Bucky being stabbed repeatedly.

"Thank you for the food," Loki called gleefully after Bucky's retreating back, ignoring the rather rude gesture Bucky threw at him.

Yes, Loki was going to enjoy this punishment. Loki frowned to himself. Well. That had just sounded kinky.

It had been two weeks since Draco had arrived at the Tower.

Tony hated it.

The blonde was always with Harry.

Always.

Which meant bonding time happened with Draco.

Technically, Tony couldn't really talk, considering Harley seemed to have made it his mission to find out whenever Harry and Tony were together and wedge himself in there, which wasn't unwanted. Tony just wished everyone got along. Luckily, Peter had decided he should also invite himself to the bonding sessions to act as mediator, which Tony personally thought was a bullshit reason considering the amount of time Peter spent staring at Draco.

So, with Peter being a useless mediator, Tony was now constantly dealing with:

1. Two boys playing "who has the bigger dick."

2. One boy with a crush on the guy his son was supposedly dating.

3. And one boy who seemed very pleased by all the chaos taking place, always looking too innocent to have not been involved.

4. Oh, and an actual god of chaos who popped in whenever he was allowed a free moment from repairing the damage he'd caused during his stint of playing dictator.

A god who seemed to like his son, along with Draco, and now disappeared off with him for at least an hour every day. Tony refused to admit that Loki teleporting away with his son was actually really good for time management when it came to ensuring he spent an equal amount of time with all his kids.

When Tony had asked FRIDAY what the god was doing with the Amish kids, she had simply replied that they appeared to be looking at different blocks of wood while Loki yelled at Harry to pick one. Honestly, Tony had just given up at that point. He should have stayed a war monger. Because now, Tony had to deal with Harley and Draco fighting with each other in that stupid polite way all Southerners and posh people knew how to do. Which, coincidentally, brought them to the current moment.

"Harley, such a wonderful outfit you managed to piece together on such a modest budget," Draco said with a sardonic smile, lounging against the side of the workbench with one ankle crossed over the other, chin lifted just enough to make the compliment sound like a declaration of war.

"Thanks. Yours is interesting too. I see you went for the 'inbred' look," Harley shot back, scowling at Harry when the other boy snorted into the sleeve of his new baby-blue hoodie. The hoodie was, of course, oversized. Draco had won the size debate.

"Piss off, Harry," Draco pouted, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact he looked deeply pleased with himself.

Harley's eyes sparkled as he realised that barb might have landed harder than expected. "Hold up. I only said that because of the posh stereotype. Are you telling me you actually are inbred?"

Draco crossed his arms. "No," he moped, looking deeply put out.

"Are we sure?" Harley asked, squinting at him. "Because that sounded like a pause with history behind it." Draco’s nostrils flared. Harry made a strangled noise into his sleeve.

Peter smiled brightly from where he was making friendship bracelets for himself and Harry with his modified web fluid. It had been adjusted to keep its original strength but become non-biodegradable. Harry was red in the face from happiness over finally getting to make something he had never had the opportunity to make when he was younger, sitting eagerly underneath the desk with Peter as they wove the sticky material together.

He had one knee tucked under himself, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration, eyes narrowed at the sticky threads like they were an exam question he had no intention of failing. Every so often Peter would guide his fingers into place and Harry would go very still, not because he disliked the contact, but because he was still learning what casual touch was supposed to feel like when it did not come with a warning.

Harry leaned close to Peter. "Hey, Pete?" he whispered, not looking up from where he was following the weaving process.

"Yeah, Harry?" Peter whispered back, guiltily dragging his eyes away from Draco. He needed to stop. Draco was dating his pseudo-brother. Peter really wanted Harry to stay in their little family, and he was painfully aware that September was edging closer, already sitting heavy on the edge of July 15th.

"I just wanted to say thanks," Harry mumbled.

Peter looked at him inquisitively. "For what?"

"You're just a really good friend. You and Wanda both." Harry resolutely did not look up, too nervous over sharing something so vulnerable, and so he missed Peter looking at him with awe in his eyes, so unbelievably happy that Harry had admitted they were friends. Small steps, people. They were dealing with emotionally constipated teenagers.

Peter’s mouth softened, the kind of expression that would have made Harry immediately run for his life if he had been unfortunate enough to see it.

"You might not be blood, but you're sure as hell my brother, Harry," Peter said firmly. "You, Harley, Wanda, Draco, and I are all like siblings."

Harry looked up at that, a mischievous grin spreading over his face. "Well, Harley seems awfully close to fratricide." He joked, before examining Peter closely. His eyes narrowed slowly, and Peter had the horrible, dawning realisation that Harry Potter was not as emotionally oblivious when he was weaponising it against someone else. "And for some reason, I don't think you see Draco as a brother. Maybe I'll be your brother-in-law, hmm?"

Harry waggled his eyebrows, not realising the horrified expression on Peter's face was guilt.

"Oh God, I'd never do that to you, Harry! Never! I'm so sorry you realised. I promise I'd never go for that because you're way more important to me and I just—"

Peter scrambled off the floor and bolted.

Harry watched him for a second as he comprehended what had just happened before swearing and running after him, nearly smacking his head on the underside of the desk in his haste.

Loki popped in, watching the young wizard chase after Peter.

He turned to Draco. "Is the young spider always that dramatic?"

"You planned an invasion on your own home because you were pissed at your dad for not telling you you're adopted. Piss off," Draco replied without moving.

He was a wizard in a lab. Not exactly the best environment for him. He was doing his best not to move too much or feel too much, trying to keep his magic stable. Loki and Harry didn't bother, the former not really caring about potential damage and the latter having been surrounded by Muggle appliances at the Dursleys' his entire life and therefore knowing how to handle it.

Draco, however, could feel the hum of electricity under his skin like insects crawling beneath silk. It made his teeth ache.

Loki hummed. "Never mind. I must request your time."

Draco got up from where he lay and followed the god out of the room, moving with exaggerated care around the equipment like the entire lab had personally offended his bloodline.

Tony and Harley just looked at each other.

"Remember when the weirdest thing in the world was me?" Tony asked with a wistful sigh.

Harley nodded. "I miss those days."

After a bit of searching, Harry found Peter on the ceiling in a webbed hammock in his room. The boy was swallowed up by the comfy-looking contraption and all Harry could see was a puff of brown hair. Harry sat down on the edge of Peter's bed, ruffling his hair as he put on a casual air.

"Y'know, Draco loves heights, so you guys will have a lot of great date ideas. Which is good, considering he's single."

Harry rocked back on the balls of his feet. "We're not dating, is what I mean."

Peter's head snapped up. "You broke up?"

Peter sounded destroyed and Harry immediately started panicking. "Oh shit, uh, no?"

"You're still together?" Peter's voice rose in pitch and Harry sighed, gesturing for Peter to hoist him up so they could share the hammock. They could have had the conversation with Harry on the ground, but honestly? Harry wanted to go in the hammock. It looked really cool. Harry had to stand on the bed before Peter could bring him up, but the indignity of feeling short was temporary and the benefits were obviously worth it, he thought, as he got comfortable. Both Peter and Harry were now in the hammock, lying on opposite sides with their legs tangled in the middle.

The hammock swayed gently under their combined weight, webbing creaking faintly above them. Harry stared at the ceiling for a moment with obvious delight before schooling his face back into something serious, because apparently even emotional conversations were improved by being suspended several feet in the air like laundry.

They stared at each other before Harry folded his hands in front of him. "Pete, Draco's my cousin."

"Alabama?" Peter exclaimed, eyes wide.

Harry just looked at him, baffled.

"You're dating but family?" Peter clarified, looking grossed out.

"Ew, Merlin, gross. No. He's my best friend and my cousin and that's all. We've never been like that and never would because disgusting." Harry shuddered, nose wrinkling with such genuine horror that Peter’s shoulders immediately dropped in relief.

"So why did you pretend?" Peter asked, confused as hell.

"He wants to test out a theory to do with Barnes. No idea what about." Harry shrugged.

Peter gave a cheeky grin. "I think I do."

Harry waited for Peter to share with the class, but apparently, that was not going to happen.

Those two assholes deserved each other.

Moving forward from that odd thing, Harry grabbed one of Peter's hands. "You should ask him out on a date. He'll overthink how to woo you and it'll take forever."

Harry encouraged him, causing Peter to blush.

"What should I ask him to do?" Peter asked eagerly.

Harry paused, not knowing many things Muggles did that Draco would also like.

Posh bint.

Food was out of the question. His tastes were damn sophisticated.

And Harry couldn't really think of anything past food.

If Bucky, someone, actually asked Harry out, Harry would want to go to their favourite diner.

Or make a plum pie.

Okay.

Harry needed to make a quick mental list.

Rules for Harry Potter to Follow No Matter What:

1. Don't jump Bucky. In a platonic way.
2. Stop being confused and upset about rule number one.
3. No, just stop thinking about jumping him.
4. Yes, he's super hot and smells really good and you wouldn't have to worry about accidentally hurting him.
5. Goddammit, Harry James Potter. Just don't fucking attack Bucky Barnes in a fun-time Fight Club or, uh... well, that was the only platonic reason Harry could think of for wanting to straddle Bucky, so he was going to leave it there.
6. You are so going to Hell.

Moving on before Harry actually managed to move past denial.

"Spider-Man," Harry blurted.

Peter gave him a confused look. "Huh?"

"Spider-Man. You can swing through the city with the sticky fluid that comes out of you, right?"

Peter scrunched his eyes shut. "Please don't call it that. But yes."

"Okay, well, there you go. Draco loves heights and has no fear, so he'd love that. Just make sure there aren't a lot of people around to see him looking messy and he'll pull out his wand for you."

Harry tensed, realising he'd slipped up. The wand was a reference to the marriage bond wizards used, and Harry was so scared Peter might catch on.

"Oh my God, Harry! I don't want to move that fast!" Peter exclaimed, mortified, eyes blown wide as he shoved his hands over Harry's mouth. Harry very slowly looked down at the hands over his mouth before looking expectantly at Peter, who removed them immediately.

"I didn't mean... that," Harry said awkwardly.

"Right. Well, we should probably get back before everyone wonders where we are," Peter cringed, visibly embarrassed.

"Yeah. Good idea."

"And, uh, Harry?"

"Yeah, Pete?"

"You won't be... like, you're okay with me asking Draco out on a date?" Peter stumbled over the words.

Harry smiled widely. "Peter, Draco is the most special person I know. He's incredibly strong and he's gone through so much, and he gave up everything easy in his life to do the right thing. He's brash and an arsehole and clueless about so many things. But there's no one I could think of better suited for him than you."

Peter’s face did something terrible then, crumpling around the edges with fondness and relief, and Harry immediately looked away because apparently sincere emotion was still a personal attack. Harry gave him a warm smile and Peter silently asked if Harry wanted a hug, something Harry accepted as he spread his arms wide.

As they hugged, Harry leaned close to Peter's ear. "If you hurt him, you will see just how good I am with those weapons you know I have." He whispered the words before pulling back and clapping Peter on the shoulder.

Peter stumbled, which really should not have happened considering the super strength coursing through his veins, and swallowed heavily as he heard the promise in Harry's voice. "I know," he replied.

It wasn't a threat.

Threats had leeway.

Harry was dead serious.

They nodded, both comfortable in the protectiveness they felt, and bantered all the way back to the lab while conspiring about what kind of flowers Draco would want.

Loki and Draco stood in the kitchen, ignoring the apprehensive looks they were getting from Bucky and Wanda, who were preparing lunch.

"I feel slighted," Loki announced.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You always feel slighted."

Bucky and Wanda shot each other worried looks. Should Draco be talking to Loki like that?

"Harry hasn't forgiven me yet," Loki complained. The two Avengers froze, narrowing their eyes as they wondered what Loki had done.

Draco sighed. "I mean, I must be honest, I understand where he's coming from."

Loki reclined dramatically on the dining room table. Bucky and Wanda were now silently mouthing what the fuck at each other as they watched the god act like... Like a teenager moping.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time!" Loki whined.

Draco slapped the god's ankles, making him slide them sullenly off the table. "Well, it doesn't anymore, does it? Now come on. I want to get revenge on Sirius."

Loki groaned but got up, obediently following the mortal out of the room.

"Since when does Loki act like a moody teenager?" Wanda mused, looking in the direction the boys had gone.

"Since when does Harry hate Loki? They only just met," Bucky asked consideringly. The two ex-HYDRA agents stared at each other before turning back to their task of cooking.

They could deal with that later.

At lunch, Tony seemed incredibly excited.

Everyone was quite understandably concerned about this.

Everyone was also quite concerned about how Draco and Harry were no longer sitting next to each other, with Harry having insisted Draco sit next to Peter while he sat next to Wanda. At Wanda's questioning look, Harry had just smiled reassuringly, which, considering all she knew about Harry, did very little to reassure her.

Draco, for his part, looked deeply put out about being manoeuvred like a chess piece, but the tips of his ears had gone faintly pink whenever Peter’s elbow brushed his. Harry noticed, because Harry was a very observant person when other people were embarrassing themselves and a blind idiot whenever his own feelings got involved.

"I have a surprise," Tony announced.

Everyone groaned.

Bruce actually started to get up from the table in protest.

"Oh, sit your asses down. It's a good surprise." Tony frowned before looking at Harry, which made everyone even more apprehensive. "Your best friends were Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, right?" Tony asked it expectantly, fingers drumming against the table like he physically could not contain himself. Harry nodded slowly, unsure where this was going. "Right. Well, after the whole failed-family thing, I thought I should listen to you and who you actually consider family." Tony started bouncing in his seat. It was ridiculous. He was a grown man, a billionaire, apparently a genius, and he was bouncing like the time he had first discovered the joys of sex.  Draco and Harry watched him with rapt attention, unsure what he meant but starting to feel like it might be good. "So, I arranged a call. With Hermione. She said she'd bring people you'll actually want to see." He revealed this with a flourish of his hands.

Harry's eyes widened, his mouth splitting open with a grin. "Are you—are you kidding?" he laughed in excitement, looking at Draco, who had broken his stoic composure and started bouncing in his seat. Draco actually bounced. Tiny, mortifying little movements in his chair, hands gripping the edge of the table hard enough to whiten his knuckles, silver eyes suddenly bright in a way he would absolutely deny later.

Tony looked overwhelmed with happiness at the positive reaction and nodded eagerly. "The call starts in five minutes in the living room."

Draco and Harry looked at each other before jumping up from the table and sprinting to the living room, shouting random things to each other in Latin.

Natasha, Thor, and Loki all looked impressed.

"Draco is rather impressive with his language usage," Natasha observed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to meet the girl Harry and Draco talk about constantly." She said it calmly before delicately standing up and then booking it.

Clint yelped, shouting, "No fair!" before getting up and sprinting after her.

The rest of the Avengers all looked at each other before shoving their seats back and running to the living room to see a part of Harry's life.

Draco and Harry were sitting on the floor in front of the TV, where the call was going to be projected. The rest of the Avengers were attempting to look casual as they sprawled across the sofas.

They failed spectacularly. Clint was leaning so far over the back of the couch he looked moments away from falling, Natasha had claimed the armchair closest to the screen with the predatory stillness of someone pretending not to care, and Tony had wedged himself behind Harry on the sofa with a hand hovering near his shoulder like he wanted to touch but did not quite know whether he was allowed.

And then Hermione appeared on the screen.

As familiar arguing filled the room, Harry smiled so widely it hurt, while Draco just looked up at the ceiling and wondered why he'd missed a bunch of Gryffindors.

"Ronald Weasley! You put that down right now!" Hermione demanded, looking away from the camera to glare at someone off-screen. Hermione was blown up on the TV. Harry recognised the background as her house and silently laughed at her parents apparently having to house, from the looks of it, three different Weasleys.

"Yeah, Ron! Put it down!" Fred and George chorused, causing Hermione's glare to refocus on them.

"Don't think for one second that I didn't see you transfigure my bedroom. I want it back to normal as soon as possible."

"Mione?" Harry prodded gently.

Hermione whipped her bushy hair around to look at Harry, a wide smile overtaking her face as she saw her best friend. "Harry!"

Ron, Fred, and George all scrambled onto the screen as she said their best friend's name, crowding around to see him.

"Harry! You alright, mate?" Ron asked, relieved smile spreading over his face.

His face had gone pale beneath the freckles, eyes scanning Harry quickly like he expected to find missing limbs through the screen. Ron had always been brilliant at pretending not to worry right up until the moment Harry was actually in front of him.

"Missing all you tossers, but all good," Harry reassured them. Draco cleared his throat, causing the twins to focus on him.

"Awww, did Malfoy miss us too?" they crooned.

Draco blushed but did not deny it. "Piss off. Why are you here?"

"Miss Goody Two-Shoes here told Ronnikins about her plan to talk to you over at the Burrow and forgot about our eavesdropping abilities." They said it proudly.

Hermione shot them a look, undoubtedly frustrated at having been caught. "Well, enough about that. Harry! We haven't heard from you for ages. Only Sirius knew where you were and then I get a call from Tony Stark asking if we want to talk to you? Explain yourself right now."

She looked at him expectantly, and Ron and Harry shared the same look of Merlin, she's awesome.

"Yeah, so... you know the Black family have some gifts? Like Tonks' gift." He spoke purposefully vaguely. Ron and Hermione, recognising the shadows of other people in the room, gave small nods of understanding. "Well, my father inherited those. And when my mum and dad were trying to have a baby, they decided to be more relaxed with the constraints of, um..." Harry trailed off, not knowing how to explain it.

"Tony Stark is his biological father," Draco cut in. Harry shot him a look and Draco just shrugged, unrepentant. "You were taking too long."

Hermione gaped at them while the redheads seemed largely unimpressed.

"So you have another dad?" Ron asked, discreetly checking whether the hint about the Black gifts was more important than they had thought.

"Yup. Two dads now," Harry confirmed, shooting them a meaningful look. He said it lightly, almost flippantly, but his fingers twisted together in his lap where the camera could not see. Tony could see, though. Tony saw everything when it came to Harry now and had the deeply unfortunate urge to break something about it.

Hermione still seemed to be in shock. Then she snapped out of it. "Harry James Potter. Are you telling me you are living in the same building as a technological genius and you didn't tell me?" She sounded outraged. Ron winced, knowing his best friend was going to get it. The Avengers all smirked behind Harry, familiar with the feeling of being told off by your best friend who also parented you.

It appeared they had just met the mother of the group.

"Well, uh, in my defence, I didn't know—" Harry snapped his mouth closed as she shot him a look.

"You've been gone since May. It's mid-July. And you know I have a phone." She crossed her arms.

And okay, look, Harry was trying to be repentant, but seeing the twins make exaggerated faces as they mimicked the conversation, obviously having no fucking clue what any of this meant, was making it really hard to look apologetic. Add in the fact Ron was trying to mouth a conversation to Draco, asking what the big deal was and why he was dressed so Muggle, and Harry had to cough to hide his giggle.

"Are you— The audacity you hold, Harry! I am actually going to kill you. Just you wait. I'll complete the task You-Know-Who always failed at." She threw her hands up.

"She's a little intense," Peter whispered to Natasha. Natasha nodded approvingly.

"Ah, come on, Mione! He's the Chosen One," Ron teased. Draco and Ron burst into uncontrollable laughter at the expressions on Harry's and Hermione's faces. The Avengers all looked at each other. Was this the thing about the Headmaster having a fixation on Harry?

"Ittle bittle Harry with the ittle bittle title," Fred—or was it George? Eh, one of them—giggled.

Harry glared at them half-heartedly. "How's your mum?" Harry asked instead. He enjoyed a smug little smile as Ron, George, and Fred all frowned at the memory.

"We've been called absolute disgraces for not looking for you," Ron said proudly.

"Sirius can't let her in on where you are yet and, uh... she's not appreciating our laid-back approach," Hermione said, red-faced.

Harry winced, knowing how protective Molly was over all children. "That can't be fun."

"What's not fun is the full-out war going on between Slytherins and Gryffindors. With Draco missing, people are speculating. A lot." Fred waggled his eyebrows.

"My favourite theory is that you and Bellatrix had a child and now you and Draco are doing a ritual to make it You-Know-Who's," Ron said offhandedly. Draco and Harry both shuddered in horror.

"You guys know he's dead, right?" Harry asked in disbelief.

The four wizards all looked at him in shock. The room on the other side of the screen went violently still. Even the twins stopped moving, which was honestly more concerning than the exploding microwave. Hermione got up from the screen, pacing back and forth.

"Who else knows about this?" Hermione asked sharply.

Draco raised his hand. "Harry told me when he explained why he got so good at fighting. And I know Remus and Sirius know." Draco admitted it casually.

Harry looked at him with betrayal. "Wow. Way to throw me under the bus," Harry said sarcastically.

Draco did not look remorseful in the slightest. "It's Hermione. I'm not lying to Hermione." He crossed his arms as if that explained everything.

"Exactly. Well done, Draco. See? Draco already learnt not to lie to me." Hermione looked at Harry judgementally.

"Well, now I'm definitely not going to tell her that I ate the last Chocolate Frog," Ron whispered.

Hermione visibly took a deep breath. "Harry. You are going to give me your number and we are going to talk about all this later. For now, maybe we should be introduced to the people behind you."

Harry looked at her gratefully, relieved they would be able to discuss this without an audience. "Yeah, of course. Guys, come forward." He gestured for his family to move closer. Everyone shuffled forward awkwardly apart from Tony, who swaggered directly into view.

"So... technological genius, huh?" Tony asked with a puffed-out chest.

Hermione tucked a curl behind her ear and Ron and Harry shared a look. When Hermione respected someone, she became their most devoted supporter. That was why Hermione would never tolerate anyone insulting McGonagall and yet had once gleefully set Snape on fire.

The girl had priorities.

"Hermione is known as the brightest girl of our age," Harry said proudly.

Tony immediately appraised her in a new light. "I saw that on your file. Certifiable genius. Impressive."

Hermione and her boys practically preened with pride. "My file?" Hermione asked, confused.

Tony grimaced slightly. "I, uh... didn't dig deep enough last time. Wasn't going to make that mistake twice."

The Dursleys had not possessed arrest records or anything immediately alarming, which had led Tony to initially believe everything was fine. If he had dug deeper, however, he would have found reports from teachers who had repeatedly raised concerns about Harry before those reports mysteriously disappeared.

That failure would stay with him until he died.

Luckily, he was now in contact with some of those teachers and, well...

Things were in motion.

"What happened?" Ron asked sharply.

Harry finger-gunned him. "Funny story. Um... you're going to love this. The Dursleys popped over to America to visit me." Harry winced as a loud explosion came from the other side of the screen. Ron recoiled.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered, glaring at him briefly. "I liked that microwave."

"Well, I like my friend being away from abusive pieces of shit!" Ron shot back. The Avengers all exchanged confused looks. How the fuck had Ron made the microwave explode?

"Yes, speaking of..." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "How did they know where you are?"

"That, uh... would be me?" Tony admitted weakly.

Oh.

Right.

British teenagers were terrifying.

Did they take glaring lessons or something?

Hermione’s glare had structure. Ron’s had blunt force. Fred and George wore identical smiles that suggested they were already inventing twelve different ways to ruin Tony’s life with household objects.

"And where are they now?" Ron asked harshly.

"They're being taken care of," Loki and Natasha said simultaneously. The two shot each other a deeply concerning look that very clearly communicated they were willing to put aside their differences for this specific situation. A high-pitched squeal erupted from the screen, causing Clint to discreetly turn down his hearing aids.

"Is that Loki?" one of the twins screeched. Ron was shoved face-first out of the way as Fred and George practically climbed over Hermione to press themselves closer to the screen.

"I believe you are the twins who are such devoted followers?" Loki asked coolly. The twins nodded so quickly Tony was shocked they did not give themselves whiplash.

"Is it true you planted the Whomping Willow to make Gryffindors injure themselves in order to prove bravery and stupidity are not the same thing?" Fred sighed admiringly. Loki nodded smugly.

Ron immediately went pale. "That tree almost killed me!" he exclaimed, remembering second year and the flying car.

"Were you being an idiot Gryffindor?" Loki asked suspiciously.

"Well, that's irrelevant," George waved the concern away dismissively, making every adult in the room deeply concerned about the children they knew. "Wait!" George gasped suddenly. "Where's Sirius? We need to rub this in his face!" He started laughing manically.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you all in contact with the serial killer?" he asked sarcastically. Then he blinked in disbelief as every magical child looked guiltily away from the screen. Tony started wildly pointing at them. "I told you! Child groomer!" he declared victoriously.

Harry and Draco groaned in frustration while the other wizards looked deeply confused.

"They do seem awfully comfortable with a wanted man," Bucky noted thoughtfully. Part of him was already wondering how difficult it would be to kidnap several British teenagers for their own protection.

Ron snorted. "Mate, the majority of my friends are wanted."

Tony snapped his head around to stare at him. "What did you just say?"

"Errrr... nothing?" Ron smiled nervously. "They're wanted by me. Because I love them?" Ron gave his most winning smile. "...And the government for treason," he whispered under his breath. 

Tony began mumbling to himself while pacing around the room as the rest of the Avengers and magicals continued talking over him. "Right..."

Bruce quietly reached over and took Tony's abandoned coffee before he could accidentally launch it across the room during whatever crisis he was currently having. And then there were introductions and questions and overlapping conversations and Fred attempting to recruit Clint into some deeply illegal sounding scheme involving fireworks. And Tony had never been prouder to see his kid smile.

Maybe he really was getting the hang of this dad thing.