When worlds collide

The world around Harry spun as he felt the cold, dark water engulf him. His lungs screamed for air, but every time he tried to swim up, the surface felt impossibly far away. His body was heavy, his arms and legs burning with exhaustion, but he couldn’t stop himself from panicking. The water pressed in on him, filling his lungs, choking him. He needed to find Hermione. She had to be with him, right?

But when he reached out, he felt nothing. No sign of her. Just an endless, suffocating darkness.

His heart raced, his muscles aching from the exertion. His thoughts began to spiral as the water consumed him, and his body gave in, his limbs no longer responding. He felt himself slipping away, a sickening sense of finality washing over him. But it wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not here. Not like this.

He struggled until his muscles screamed in protest, but it wasn’t enough. The water flooded his chest, his body betraying him as his lungs burned with a lack of air. He gasped, his vision blurring, the world tilting and fading. Just as everything went dark, he felt strong arms grip him, pulling him from the water. But it was too late. His lungs were filled with water, his chest too tight, and his body too weak. His vision blackened, and his consciousness slipped from him entirely.

When Harry woke, everything was dark. No sounds, no sensations, just the black void surrounding him. It was disorienting—dying had always been disorienting. He’d done it before, sure, especially during those disastrous potion experiments with Hermione. Being the "Master of Death" meant it wasn’t permanent, but it still felt unsettling every time.

His chest hurt, a crushing pressure that gnawed at him. Something was wrong—no, something was very wrong. The pain wasn’t right. The ribs... his ribs felt like they were being crushed, the sensation like someone had taken a hammer to his chest. A snapping sound echoed through his body, and the pain became overwhelming. His thoughts flickered with fear.

"DP, you’re killing him!" a voice hissed, desperate and young.

Harry couldn’t focus enough to fully understand what was happening. He could only feel the intense, sharp pain that made it hard to breathe, let alone think clearly.

Another voice, deeper, more authoritative, responded with an edge of irritation. "Hard to kill someone who’s already dead, Spider. The guy wasn't breathing when we got him out, and his heart isn't pumping. And I told you, for CPR to be effective you gotta break a few ribs!”

Harry couldn’t make sense of the words, but the pain seemed to cut through his haze. He was aware of his own breathless, panicked state, and he knew that he was struggling to hold onto life, or whatever this was. Was he alive? Dead? The lines were blurring.

The young voice—Spider?—spoke again, this time pleading, "No, come on! We gotta help him!”

The air around Harry shifted as something warm and soft pressed against his lips. He tensed instinctively, unsure if it was real or part of the disorienting numbness swirling around him. But then it registered, and he realized the warmth was someone's mouth. Someone was giving him mouth to mouth.

He tried to respond, to draw breath, but his motor functions were still dormant, his body not yet following orders. After dying first consciousness returned, then the heart beat, then motor function.

"Petey, your mask! Tony’s gonna kill me if you ruin your secret identity while we’re out on patrol!" The deeper voice cried out, a sharp tone of panic mixed with frustration.

"I can’t give mouth to mouth with the mask on Wade!" Petey hissed, frustration clear in his voice.

The deeper voice, now identified as "Wade”, seemed unconcerned. "Petey, the guy’s a lost cause. He’s dead!"

"No!" Petey’s voice cracked, desperation rising. "Come on, help me! Do chest compressions to the beat of stayin’ alive, and I’ll breathe! That's what I learned in the class.”

Harry felt the pressure return to his chest—painful, clumsy, but undeniably trying to keep him alive. A sharp crack reverberated through him, and the pain shot through his ribs, the sound of broken bones like a sickening rhythm.

"If I’m not dead yet, a pierced lung don't help," Harry mumbled, though his voice was barely audible.

There was a sudden gasp, followed by an excited, high-pitched scream.

"It’s alive! It's ALIVE! He was dead, Igor!" The voice sounded overjoyed.

Harry chuckled weakly, despite the excruciating pain that throbbed through his chest. "I don’t exactly stay dead. But the ribs…they’re gonna take a few hours to heal, so ease off."

“Oh you have a healing factor too!?” Wade squealed. “Man the writers are getting lazy! Wolverine, spidey, me...you!? They're just recycling super powers now. You'd think they'd just accept that sometimes the main character dies."

Harry shook his head, confused, "um," Harry mumbled, "is that supposed to make sense?"

Petey chuckled and said, "sorry, Deadpool says weird shit sometimes he's literally a little crazy. Sorry about the ribs, you weren't breathing." Harry shrugged though it hurt like a bitch and said, "I get it. Thanks for the help.”

His eyelids fluttered open, his vision blurry but slowly coming into focus. The first thing he saw was a pair of the most beautiful brown eyes, flecked with gold and green, staring down at him with a mixture of concern and awe.

Harry croaked, his voice hoarse, “You’re beautiful."

The young man chuckled and blushed bright red, the sound warm and light. "Well, that’s a first." He gave a sheepish grin, brushing back his dark hair. "Sorry again about the ribs, Deadpool is more used to killing than saving."

Harry blinked, confused. “Deadpool?” he repeated, his head still fuzzy. "Weird name, but it's pretty cool. And you’re... Petey?"

The man in the red and black mask crossed his arms. "Only I get to call the adorable spider-kid wonder Petey buddy boy,” he teased. "You can call him Mr. Parker."

Peter rolled his eyes, but he smiled. "Lay off, DP. The guy just died, give him a break. I’m Peter Parker. This... wonderful man is Wade Wilson. The one and only, Deadpool. Or you may have heard of the merc with the mouth. Deadpool is just his superhero name.”.

"Superhero?" Harry repeated, trying to sit up but wincing from the pain. "Is this... is this real? Am I… some kind of weird DC comic dream?"

Deadpool laughed loudly. "Well, technically, I think it’s an MCU crossover thing, but you’re close."

Harry looked between them, trying to piece together the bizarre situation. “Maybe I am dead,” he said slowly. “I don’t even know how I got here, but I know drowning sucks."

Peter nodded sympathetically. "So, how’d you end up in the Hudson River? You jump?"

Harry’s eyes widened, the panic rising in him. “Jump?! That's ridiculous! No. I—” He cut himself off, then shook his head. "I was with Hermione. We… shit, Hermione!"

He tried to push himself up, despite his broken ribs and twisted ankle, and began to stumble toward the water. "I need to find her. I have to find Hermione!"

Peter quickly caught his arm, steadying him. "Whoa, whoa, slow down, man. You’re still messed up. Your ribs—"

But Harry was already limping toward the water’s edge, every inch of his being focused on one thing—finding Hermione.

"She was with me," he muttered, almost to himself. "She has to be here. She has to be."

Peter and Deadpool exchanged a glance. There was something off about this guy, sure, but he was alive. Whatever happened to him, he wasn’t going down without a fight.

Harry reached the waters edge and screamed out, “Mionie?! Hermione?!” But no answer. “Hermione!?!”

He started to wade into the water but Peter and Wade moved quickly, with Wade effortlessly lifting Harry in his arms, despite Harry trying to fight him off. The man was insanely strong.

“I'm fine! I have to find her! Let me go!” Harry yelled, swinging around until he felt another rib crack and gasped in pain.

"I don't care how fine you think you are," Wade retorted, keeping his hold tight. "You're not going anywhere with broken ribs and a busted ankle, kid."

Harry started to son and Peter brushed his fringe out of his face and tried to calm him. “Hey, man... if she was with you, wherever she is, she's probably okay. We'll look in the morning.”

“Or she drowned,” Deadpool scoffed and Peter smacked him on the back of the head.

Harry shook his head, though his heart still pounded in his chest. "No! We can't die…She can't die—not permanently anyway." The words didn't comfort him as much as he hoped. In his gut, something was wrong. Hermione was still out there somewhere... or worse, she was already lost.

Wade raised an eyebrow, the grin slipping a little. "Yeah, that's cool. But listen, you're gonna need some food. You need to heal or you're no good to anyone.”

"I can't go to a hospital," Harry muttered, his eyes dull with fatigue. "They won't understand. I'll heal too fast. They'll have too many questions. They’ll think I’m... I don’t know... a freak."

Peter let out a soft sigh, clearly recognizing Harry's concern. "I get it. We'll keep it lowkey. We take him to my apartment until he's okay."

Deadpool shot Peter a sideways glance, "Whoa there Petey, you want me to take a stranger to your place and leave you alone with him? How do we even know we can trust him?"

"He's not a threat," Peter said firmly, looking back at Harry. "Besides, you got a better idea?”

Deadpool paused, stroking his chin dramatically before smirking. "Oh, I have ideas. We take him to my place." He raised an eyebrow when Peter shot him a look. "What? If he's dangerous, he can't kill me. And I can afford to move, I don't have much anyway. If the location’s compromised it's no big deal.”

Peter rolled his eyes. "Fine. But we’re keeping it cool. We'll both stay with Wade until you're better, Harry. We figure out what's going on, how you got here... and how to get you back to Hermione. And how some British kid wound up here.”

Harry’s head swam. "I was in Africa," he muttered, eyes unfocused. "We fell into a water source. An underground cave. And then..." He glanced at Wade, his thoughts scattering. "Then everything went black. And I woke up with you guys."

Peter nodded, walking faster now. "Alright, we’ll figure that out once you’re patched up, kid. You’re in good hands, okay?"

Harry’s heart dropped when the reality hit him again—he wasn’t anywhere near Hermione, and he didn’t know how to get to her. He didn’t even know what part of the world he was in. For all he knew, she could be drowning or worse.

"You’re not alone," Peter added, his tone soft but determined. "If she's like you, she'll be okay. She'll find her way. So will you."

Harry wasn’t sure if he believed that, but it was the only hope he had left.

"Alright, let’s get you something to eat," Peter continued, a little more upbeat. "After that, we’ll figure out your next step. You need rest, and... just, you need to calm down, okay?"

“She lost because of me…this is all my fault! Ugh! That was so stupid!” Harry groaned close to tears.

Wade grinned again, clearly sensing Harry's inner turmoil. "You know, you could do with a little more humor, kid. Maybe a little less brooding and more pizza." He paused, adjusting Harry’s weight in his arms as they continued walking so he was carrying Harry bridal style to avoid jostling his ribs too much.

Harry, despite the pain, let out a dry chuckle. "I’m not a kid."

Wade tilted his head and raised a brow. "Uh-huh, sure. You’re a grown man who happens to be what—19? 20? Don’t worry, kid, your secrets are safe with us."

Harry, glancing down at his body. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was back in his 17-year-old form, glamours no longer making him look older and he wasn't wearing the hiking gear he was in Africa.

"Doesn't matter," he added quickly, shaking his head. "I’m starving." Harry hopped out of Deadpool's grip and brushed himself off. “And I can walk,” he said with a scoff.

Peter smiled sympathetically, but before he could reply, Deadpool was already sweeping Harry off his feet, bridal style again.

"Whoa, hey! I said I could walk," Harry protested weakly.

Deadpool just grinned down at him. "Nope. I’m carrying you, princess. You just focus on getting better."

Peter shot Harry a look, clearly trying to keep things light. "Trust me, it’s easier this way. We’ll get you some food and... I guess we figure out where to go from here."

Before they started walking, Deadpool glanced over at Peter, his eyes narrowing beneath his mask. "Pete, your mask?" he said, pointing.

Peter’s heart sank as he looked down at himself and realized—the mask! He had completely forgotten to put it back on after saving Harry. His mind raced as he looked at Harry, who was staring at him in confusion.

“My…” Peter’s face turned a shade of red deeper than his suit. He stumbled over his words, panic rising in his chest. “Fuck! Tony's gonna kill me! Harry, please, you—uh, you didn’t see anything, okay? I mean—please, don’t tell anyone! I’m, uh, not supposed to be seen like this.”

Harry blinked, utterly baffled by Peter’s reaction. “Tell anyone what?”

Peter gestured down to his attire, his arms flailing slightly as he tried to explain. "The suit! This suit! You can’t tell anyone about—about the Spider thing. You know, the whole Spider-Man thing."

Harry stared at him blankly. "Wait, wait. So you don’t want me to tell anyone you dress in a spider-themed onesie spandex thing? I mean whatever floats your boat mate."

Peter froze, staring at Harry with wide eyes. His voice cracked as he tried to correct him. "No, I—I'm Spider-Man!”

Harry looked even more confused now. “Oh, right, Spider-Man. So, like, are you a fan of some spider-themed band or something? Like Slipknot fans being maggots? Or like berserkers are fans for Black Label Society?”

Peter’s eyes darted from Harry to Deadpool, who was already snickering at the misunderstanding. “No, no! I’m Spider-Man. The actual superhero. The one with the webs and the wall crawling?”

Harry squinted at him for a moment, then raised his hand, as if trying to put the pieces together. “Wait a second... you weren’t kidding about that whole MCU crossover thing, were you? You actually think you're superheros? Little pretentious, but I think I'm the last to judge.”

Peter’s face dropped. “You’ve never heard of Spider-Man?”

Harry paused for a long moment, then shrugged. “Nope. But let me try something first,” he said, lifting his fringe and revealing his scar with a small flourish. “I’m Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. You heard of me?”

Peter stared at him, absolutely baffled. "Wait... what? You're Harry Potter?! Like THE Harry Potter?!" His eyes widened, but then he chuckled and dropped the act, clearly joking. "No man, I—I’ve never heard of you."

Harry sighed dramatically and pulled his hair back into place. "Bloody hell, that's fabulous. Really. So where are we, then?"

Peter hesitated for a second, but then said, "Uh, New York."

Harry’s eyes lit up in surprise. “New York? Who knew Muggle America would be where I could finally live where no one recognized me?”

Deadpool let out a low whistle. “You a celebrity or something in England, kid?”

Harry looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

Peter still couldn’t wrap his head around Harry’s nonchalance. "Wait, so you’re not gonna—"

"No, of course not," Harry cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. "I won’t say anything about your... your Spider-man thing. You don't say anything about the coming back from the dead thing."

Peter’s shoulders relaxed, his blush deepening as he quickly fumbled to put his mask back on. “Thanks, man,” he said, his voice low. "I... appreciate it."

Harry, watching him, just shrugged. “You’re welcome. Besides, I don't even know where I am. Who would I tell? Who would believe me?!”

Deadpool snickered behind them, clearly loving the entire conversation.

Peter finally finished adjusting his mask and gave Harry a hesitant smile. “Alright. Let’s get moving. We’ll figure this all out later."

With that, the trio began to walk again, heading toward Deadpool’s place, and Harry, still unsure of what to make of everything, kept his thoughts on Hermione—on finding her, on what would happen next. The city around them was huge, unfamiliar, but at least, for now, he wasn’t alone.

Deadpool’s apartment was not what Harry expected. The smell hit him first—an unpleasant mix of old food, mold, and blood that made him wrinkle his nose. The apartment itself was bare except for a badly stained couch, a flickering TV, and weapons scattered around like casual décor. Bloodstains dotted the walls and floor, giving the space an eerie, chaotic feel.

Deadpool seemed proud of it, though. “It’s not much, but it’s home,” he said with a shrug, setting Harry down on the couch despite Harry's groan of protest. “I’m gonna shower. Pete, grab some food, and Harry... stay on the couch and rest.”

Harry, still feeling sore and exhausted, didn’t argue. These guys had saved his life and brought him here; he wasn’t about to complain about the state of the place. As he adjusted on the couch, Peter shot a web out of his hand, swinging effortlessly out the window. Harry stared, wide-eyed and completely dumbfounded.

Deadpool chuckled, noticing Harry’s reaction. “I know, right? It's fucking cool, isn’t it?!”

Harry could only nod, still processing everything. “He’s an actual superhero?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Yeah, man,” Deadpool replied with a grin. “It’s kinda common knowledge around here.”

With that, Deadpool disappeared into the bathroom for a shower, leaving Harry alone to gather his thoughts. He took a moment to check his clothes. He wasn’t in the same outfit he’d been wearing in the cave. Instead, he found himself in jeans, a plain white T-shirt, Converse, a beanie, and his favorite leather jacket—the outfit he and Draco had picked out together, a touch of familiarity in an otherwise alien environment. He felt a wave of relief when he realized that his wand, still intact, was safely tucked away in a small bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm in his jacket pocket.

Along with his wand, he found the Resurrection Stone and his Invisibility Cloak, the diamonds he had plucked from the cave, some Muggle money he didn’t remember acquiring, a pack of dry cigarettes, and even floo powder. The sight of his wand made him feel safer, and he immediately used a quick spell to dry his clothes and check his injuries. He had one clean broken rib, with the others now reduced to hairline fractures. His ankle felt fine already.

After assessing himself, Harry couldn’t help but glance around at the grimy apartment. He knew Deadpool had told him to rest, but the state of the place bothered him. The Gryffindor in him couldn’t resist fixing it up. He took out his wand and cast a series of cleaning spells, removing the bloodstains from the floor and walls and eliminating the awful smell.

He tackled the fridge next, magically scrubbing it clean and doing the same for all the dishes piled in the sink. The couch was next—it was transfigured into a much larger, more comfortable one, free of stains. He even found some ratty, broken chairs in the corner and transfigured them into a nice set of chairs around a dining room table. He continued, transforming the light fixtures into simple chandeliers, making the fireplace grander with a mantle, and laying down rugs over the wooden floor he transfigured from grimey t-shirts. The whole apartment slowly transformed into something rustic and cozy.

Satisfied with his work, Harry collapsed back onto the new couch, glancing at the telly with a curious frown. He had only ever seen one when he was younger, but Dudley had always hogged it, and Harry had never learned how they worked.

He let the thought go and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a flask of firewhiskey he usually kept on hand. He drank deeply, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through him as he tried to settle his nerves. Lighting a cigarette, he leaned back, feeling the tension in his muscles slowly easing up.

A few minutes later, Peter swung back into the apartment with bags of food, only to stop in his tracks. His eyes went wide as he took in the apartment—now completely furnished and looking nothing like the chaotic mess it had been just moments ago.

There, on the newly-transfigured couch, sat Harry in his leather jacket, smoking a cigarette and drinking from his flask, as though he’d been there forever.

Peter blinked, his voice hesitant. “Uh… what the hell happened?”

Harry looked up at him, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “What? I figured I’d make myself useful,” he said casually, gesturing to the now immaculate and homey space.

Peter just stared, still trying to process how the apartment had gone from that to this in the span of a shower. “Deadpool’s gonna freak out,” he mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief as he set the bags of food down.

Peter was still staring at the transformed apartment when Deadpool came out of the bathroom, clad in his mask, towel wrapped around his waist. "Ah, much better! So, what's for—" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes wide as he took in the newly pristine room. "What the actual fuck?!"

Harry glanced up from his spot on the couch, taking a drag from his cigarette. "It’s, uh… cleaner now."

"Cleaner?!" Deadpool’s eyes darted around. "It’s like a fucking HGTV special in here! Where’s my gross stains? My moldy fridge? My perfectly disgusting lived-in grime?!"

Peter gestured to Harry, still trying to figure it out himself. "Uh, he did it. Somehow."

Deadpool whipped around to Harry, his towel now hanging precariously. "You did this? How?! Are you a sorcerer? Did you sacrifice a goat? You better not have used a goat!"

Harry shrugged, playing it off. "It’s just… stuff I can do. Nothing fancy."

"Stuff?!" Deadpool squinted, walking closer to inspect the now-transfigured furniture.

Harry didn’t answer, taking another swig from his flask. He didn’t want to get into the details—not when he didn’t know the laws here. Magic wasn’t exactly something you flaunted around, especially in a place like this. So, he just gave them a vague, "Yeah, something like that."

Peter, still baffled, looked between Harry and the apartment. "Well… I guess thanks? For, uh, fixing up Wade’s place."

Wade pulled on his sweatpants and tossed the towel onto the floor. He yanked a shirt over his head but left the mask on, and Harry couldn’t help but ask, “Why do you keep the mask on? Peter doesn’t.”

Before Wade could answer, Peter stepped in, fiddling nervously with his hands. “He’s, uh, self-conscious.”

Harry raised an eyebrow but shrugged. “Alright.”

Deadpool finally sat down on the now much more comfortable couch and sighed, dramatically collapsing into it. "Alright, this is growing on me. And it doesn't smell like dead raccoon anymore. Points to you, British kid. Points to you." He suddenly perked up. "Okay, but I’m starving. What’s the grub, Pete?"

Peter, still shaking his head at the strangeness of it all, grabbed the bags of food he had brought and started unpacking them. "Got some burgers and fries. I wasn’t sure what Harry would like, so I got a little bit of everything."

Deadpool’s face lit up. "Burgers?! You, my friend, have saved the day once again!"

He pulled his mask up over his mouth and stuffed half of a burger into his mouth in one bite. "Mmm—‘ss goo’!"

Peter leaned in and whispered to Harry, “Don’t stare.”

Harry blinked, confused. “Stare at what?”

Peter glanced at Wade’s exposed face. “The scars. He’s self-conscious about them.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “Oh. Is that why he keeps the mask on?”

Wade overheard and, between bites, muttered, “Yeah, my ridiculously handsome mug has been downgraded to a butterface.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but Harry could tell the casual tone didn’t match the hurt in his eyes.

Peter flipped the telly on to some random program Harry had never seen and Wade laughed at a joke Harry didn't get but the tension was dissolved.

Harry, despite himself, couldn’t help but smile a little. He took a burger from the bag, and some soggy chips and even though he wasn’t used to eating fast food, he found himself hungry enough not to care. He devoured it quickly, feeling the weight of the last few hours slowly start to lift from his shoulders. Maybe he wasn’t in familiar territory, but these guys seemed decent enough. Weird, but decent.

As they ate, Deadpool continued to marvel at his "new" apartment. "I mean, seriously! I didn’t know having a clean place felt this good! Might have to keep you around, Harry. You know, for housekeeping purposes. We can start a business. ‘Harry and Wade’s Magical Maid Service.’ Pete can be our flyer guy."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I don’t think that’s quite my speed."

Peter laughed too, though his eyes still lingered on Harry with a bit of suspicion, clearly still curious about how Harry had pulled it off. "Yeah, well, whatever ‘stuff you can do,’ it’s impressive."

Harry just smiled cryptically, finishing his burger. "You could say that."

After they finished eating, Harry had an idea. He couldn’t fully heal Wade’s scars—his magic had limitations, especially on things like this—but he could help. He stood up, catching their attention.

“Hey, I wanna try something,” Harry said, his voice serious. “But you both have to close your eyes.”

Wade looked skeptical. “You’re not about to axe murder us, are you?”

“No,” Harry said with a slight grin. “Just trust me. I promise.”

Peter hesitated but eventually nodded, and Wade, after a moment of doubt, closed his eyes too. Harry took out his wand, carefully stepping closer to Wade. He pressed the tip of his wand lightly against Wade’s head and delved into his mind using Legilimency, searching through the chaotic mess until he found the memory he needed—a clear image of Wade before the scars.

With precision, Harry began weaving a glamour over Wade’s skin, making sure the illusion would not only look real but also feel real. He wanted Wade to feel like himself again. He layered the magic, taking extra care to craft the glamour so it would hold as long as possible. Finally, he etched a small rune on Wade’s thigh using his wand.

“Sorry, this part’s going to hurt,” Harry said softly as the rune burned into Wade’s skin. Wade hissed at the sting, but didn’t flinch. Harry put his wand away when he was done and smiled at his work, mionie would be proud.

When Harry was done, he stepped back. “Alright, you can open your eyes now.”

Wade and Peter opened their eyes, and Peter gasped. Wade immediately looked down at himself, his mouth dropping open in shock. His skin was smooth, unblemished. He looked just like he had before the cancer, before everything. He yanked his mask off and touched his face, his hands trembling slightly as he felt the smoothness that had been missing for so long. He stumbled over himself getting to the bathroom mirror then came back to stare at Harry.

“I… I look like me,” Wade whispered, his voice cracking. He turned to Harry, eyes wide and filled with disbelief. “How… how did you do this?”

“It’s not actually healed,” Harry explained, his tone gentle. “It’ll look and feel healed as long as the rune is intact. It's called a glamour. You might need me to redo it once a year, maybe more if the rune gets damaged, but it’ll last.”

Wade stood there, speechless, his hand still running over his face. His breath hitched, and before Harry could react, Wade surged forward and hugged him so tightly that Harry’s bones ached. He gasped in pain as Wade’s arms squeezed him like a vice, practically crushing him. Peter had to rush over and pry Wade off before Harry’s ribs cracked under the pressure.

Wade finally pulled back, his eyes glassy with emotion, staring at his reflection in the nearest window. “Holy shit… I—this is—” He was too overwhelmed to finish his sentence, his voice shaky.

Harry watched as Wade admired his unscarred face, tears welling up in his eyes. Wade turned to him, his voice thick with gratitude. “Thank you. Seriously, man. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Harry, a little uncomfortable with the outpouring of emotion, just shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

Wade shook his head, still staring at himself in awe. “No, it is a big deal. This is… you’ve given me a part of myself back. One I thought I lost forever.”

Wade didn’t have a joke or a sarcastic comment. He just stared at his reflection, touching his face in disbelief.

Peter grinned at Harry, giving him a nod of appreciation. “It may be nothing for you, but it's everything to him. Thank you Harry.”

Wade finally broke the silence, a shaky grin spreading across his face. “Okay, British kid, you’re officially my new favorite person.” He glanced at Harry, his voice quieter. “Thanks, man. Really.”

Peter patted him on the shoulder and Harry, feeling slightly awkward with all the gratitude, just waved it off. “Yeah, well… it’s something I could do, that’s all.”

Wade, still emotional, wiped at his eyes and grinned. “You’re a fucking wizard, British kid. A damn miracle worker.”

Harry chuckled under his breath. “Something like that.”

Harry stifled a yawn as he stretched, his bones still aching from the events of the day. Pete noticed and gave him a soft smile. “You should get some sleep, dude. You’ve had a rough day.”

Wade chimed in, still in awe of his new appearance. “Yeah, British kid. You can take the bedroom. I’m not tired, me and Pete will hang out here. If Pete gets sleepy, he can take the couch.”

Harry hesitated for a moment but nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. “Alright. Thanks.” He walked slowly toward the bedroom, trying not to let the discomfort show.

This was the first night in years he’d be sleeping without Hermione nearby. The thought left him feeling unsettled, the familiar comfort of her presence replaced by a quiet loneliness that gnawed at his chest. The door creaked as he pushed it open, and he chuckled at the sight. The bedroom was just as grimy and rundown as the rest of the apartment, the same smell of mold lingering in the air, the bed stained and threadbare.

With a soft sigh, Harry took out his wand. He couldn’t help himself. With a flick, he began transforming the room. The bloodstains vanished, the mold disappeared, and the dust swirled into nothingness. The bed was next—he transfigured it into a large California king with a four-poster frame and a canopy, making it more inviting than it had ever been. He added a plush rug to the wooden floor, and the walls shifted to a warm cinnamon hue, reminiscent of the cozy feeling of the Gryffindor common room. It brought him a sense of home, a connection to the past that steadied him.

Harry moved into the adjoining bathroom and worked the same magic, fixing up the broken sink, expanding the shower with sleek glass doors, and adding a clawfoot tub that looked perfect for soaking after a hard day. It wasn’t much, but it made the place feel less foreign.

Satisfied with his work, Harry transfigured his clothes and tucked his wand away before collapsing onto the bed, his body sinking into the softness. He let out a long breath, the pain from his ribs and the weight of everything catching up to him. Despite the comfort he had created, sleep did not come easily. His mind raced with thoughts of Hermione, and Draco and all their friends probably terrified that he disappeared.

Exhausted and aching, Harry finally drifted into a restless, uneasy sleep, haunted by the day’s events and the unknown future waiting for him in this strange new world.

Peter sat back on the couch, glancing over at Wade, who for once, was sitting without a mask. It was strange, seeing his face unmarred by scars—smooth and unblemished, the skin glowing in a way Peter didn’t think Wade would ever see again. It was thanks to Harry’s magic, whatever that was. Peter still didn’t know what to make of it, but for Wade, it was clearly a big deal.

“So, uh… how old are you?” Peter asked, tilting his head. It was something he’d never really thought to ask before, but the subject of Wade’s immortality had always been kind of a mystery.

Wade shrugged, leaning back into the couch. “I dunno, thanks to Thanos and his little curse, I don’t age anymore. So, I look maybe 28? Somewhere around there? I think I’ve been around, like, 40 some odd years or something? Who knows? I don’t count birthdays. What’s the point when you don’t age and you can’t die?”

Peter frowned, his brows furrowing. “You should celebrate your birthday, Wade. Even if you don’t age, it’s still important, right?”

Wade scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Ah, Spidey, it’s not a big deal. What’s the point? I’ve had, like, 40-something birthdays already and probably a hundred more to go.”

Peter grinned. “Yeah, but you should still have cake. Everyone deserves cake.”

“Maybe if you get me a Spidey cake. One of those weird ones with your face on it. I’d eat that,” Wade quipped, smirking before glancing toward the bedroom door. “What do you think of the British kid, though? Harry?”

Peter leaned back, thinking. “I dunno. He seems nice. A little weird, but so are we, right?”

Wade nodded enthusiastically. “I like him. Can we keep him, Pete? Can we??”

Peter laughed, shaking his head. “Wade, he’s not a puppy.”

“He is so like a puppy!” Wade protested, his voice high-pitched and whiny for dramatic effect. “A hot puppy. With big, pretty green eyes and those sexy tattoos. I mean, come on. He’s almost as pretty as you, Petey boy.”

Peter chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Should I be jealous?”

Wade threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Never, never! There’s enough Wade Wilson to go around. But seriously, if he’s got nowhere to go, he could stay here with me. I don’t mind.”

Peter sighed, his eyes drifting back toward the bedroom door. “I dunno, Wade. Should I tell Tony about him? I mean… he’s got some kind of power, right? Look at what he did to this place. But what if he’s not out, you know? He could get in trouble.”

Wade was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful for once. “He didn’t know superheroes were real, Pete. He looked amazed when you webbed away earlier. I think we need his whole story before going to the Man of Iron.” Wade finished, his usual playfulness momentarily giving way to a rare serious tone. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “We should dig a little more before dragging him into that world.”

Peter nodded. "Fair enough. We’ve got to help him find that Hermione girl tomorrow. That's his main concern right now. What do you think? Is she his girlfriend?"

Wade grinned widely. “Maybe! Or his, like, ‘platonic soulmate.’ You know, the kind of bond that’s so intense you’re like, ‘Are they together? Aren’t they together? Is there kissing? Is there not?’”

Peter snorted. “Sounds complicated. But, seriously, it could be his girlfriend. He’s got that look like he’s lost without her.”

"Yeah, or he's just British," Wade said, deadpan, then leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, "But seriously, if she is his girlfriend, he could do better. Just saying. Look at those dreamy eyes and that cute little scruffy thing he’s got going on. He’s like almost as hot as me.”

Peter shook his head with a grin, nudging Wade lightly with his elbow. “Wade, you’re not wrong, but you’re also totally ridiculous. You can’t adopt every stray we come across.”

Wade threw his arms out in mock protest. “I can and I will! But I promise I’ll let this one make the choice on whether or not he wants to be adopted. I mean, come on! Harry’s already got a cool name. And if he’s got magic powers or whatever, he can’t be that bad to have around, right?”

"Well, that's if he even stays," Peter said, stretching out on the couch, glancing toward the bedroom door again. "Once he finds Hermione, who knows what his plan is. He could have a whole life waiting for him in... wherever he came from."

“Yeah, well, if his life was so great, he wouldn’t have landed here in Wade Wilson’s apartment, right?” Wade shrugged, then looked at Peter more seriously. “I just… I dunno, Pete. I like the kid. He’s got that weird, quiet sadness, you know? Like he’s been through some stuff. Maybe he needs people like us.”

Peter looked at Wade, surprised by the depth of his words. Wade, for all his sarcasm and crude humor, could be surprisingly insightful when he wanted to be. “Yeah, I think you’re right. We’ll figure it out. But for now, let’s focus on helping him find his friend. That’s priority number one.”

Wade nodded, leaning back with a grin. “Agreed! But after that, I’m totally making him my British sidekick. We’ll have matching costumes and everything.”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

Wade’s grin widened. “Not when I see something I like, Spidey. Not when I see something I like.”

They both fell into a comfortable silence, the low hum of the city outside filling the space between them. Peter couldn’t help but think about Harry, alone in the bedroom. The kid seemed tough, but there was something about the way he carried himself—an underlying sadness that made Peter think Wade was right. Maybe Harry needed them more than they realized.

"Do you think he’ll be okay?" Peter asked, breaking the silence.

Wade glanced at him, then toward the bedroom door. "Yeah, I think he will. He’s tougher than he looks. But if not, we’ve got his back."

Peter nodded, his mind still on Harry. He hoped they could help him, even if it was just for a little while. Because, for now, they were all each other had.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the quiet apartment, sending Peter and Wade scrambling toward the bedroom. They burst through the door to find Harry thrashing violently in his sleep, his body drenched in sweat. His shirt clung to him, his jacket neatly set on a chair nearby, but he wore shorts he hadn't been wearing before.

Peter rushed to the large bed, climbing on carefully, his voice soft but urgent. “Harry, it’s just a bad dream... you’re okay, it’s okay.”

But Harry’s screams only grew more desperate, his hands clenching at the blankets as his body twisted and turned. “No! Not Sirius! Please! Sirius! No! Take me instead! Ah! Please!” His voice cracked as he sobbed, his face contorted in agony. Peter looked at Wade, panic rising in his chest.

Wade, uncharacteristically serious, climbed onto the other side of the bed and began gently shaking Harry. “Come on, kid, wake up. You’re safe, c’mon.”

But Harry continued thrashing, his screams tearing through the room. “Not my parents! Please! Mom! Dad! Stop!” His voice broke as his body writhed under the sheets, completely lost in his nightmare.

Peter and Wade exchanged a frantic look. “What do we do?” Peter asked, his voice tense with concern.

“We gotta wake him,” Wade said, his brow furrowed. “Try some water!”

Peter nodded, scrambling off the bed as Wade darted into the bathroom. He came back quickly with a cup of water, splashing it over Harry’s face.

Harry jolted awake with a sharp gasp, his body springing up in one fluid motion. Before Peter could react, Harry leapt over him, summoning a wand that Peter hadn't even noticed. In an instant, a shimmering magical shield appeared between Harry and them, his eyes wide and wild, his breathing fast and uneven. His hand shook as he held his wand tightly, clearly prepared to fight.

Peter threw his hands up, palms out in surrender, his heart pounding. “Harry! It’s just us! You were having a nightmare.”

Harry's chest heaved as his breath slowly began to steady. His eyes darted between Peter and Wade, and then down at the shield shimmering between them. Slowly, recognition washed over him, and with a trembling hand, he lowered his wand, dispelling the shield.

“I... I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I... I was back there…back in the war. She killed him…and she laughed…” Harry sobbed softly.

Peter and Wade stayed still, not wanting to overwhelm him. “It’s okay,” Peter said gently. “You’re safe.”

Harry's breath shuddered as he tried to compose himself, his voice cracking as he continued, “Voldemort... he... he killed my parents. Bellatrix... she killed Sirius... and they killed Fred... and...”

Before he could finish, the weight of his grief hit him all over again. His knees buckled, and without warning, he began to weep.

Peter and Wade exchanged a quick glance before they both moved, catching Harry and gently pulling him down onto the bed between them. Harry didn't resist; he let himself collapse into the embrace, his body shaking with sobs. Peter wrapped an arm around his shoulder, while Wade pulled him in from the other side, surprisingly tender for someone so brash.

Harry wept softly, his face pressed into Peter's chest. His words came out in gasps between sobs, barely audible. "I... I couldn't save them. I tried, but... they all died. My parents, Sirius, Fred, Tonks, Lupin, MadEye, Dobby…I was too late, I—I was supposed to save them!”

Peter rubbed Harry's back slowly, his own chest tightening as he listened. He wasn’t used to this level of raw pain. He had dealt with his share of nightmares—Gwen, Uncle Ben—but what Harry had gone through sounded like a lifetime of loss. Peter didn’t know what to say, so he just kept rubbing Harry’s back, letting him cry it out.

Wade, on the other hand, looked more shaken than Peter had ever seen him. He was uncharacteristically quiet, just holding Harry’s arm, as if his usual sarcasm had no place here. Wade’s face, now unmarred by scars, looked deeply concerned, his own memories likely surfacing in this vulnerable moment.

After a few minutes of silence, broken only by Harry’s soft sobs, Wade finally spoke, his voice low and serious. “Kid... I know you’re hurting. I know it’s... it’s hard. But you’re here now, alright? You made it. You’re still standing. That means something.”

Harry hiccupped, his breath still shaky as he slowly lifted his head, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I know. I always think I've gotten over it all…then I sleep and I'm back there. Back in the war. Back watching Fred's body crumble to the ground…hearing Bellatrix laugh after she killed my godfather…”

Peter nodded, understanding more than Harry might know. “Nightmares... they don’t just go away,” he said softly. “But we're here, you're not alone.”

Wade leaned in closer, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Yeah, and if anyone tries to hurt you again, I’ll make sure they regret it. Just say the word.”

Harry let out a weak, watery laugh, the tension in the room easing ever so slightly. “Thanks,” he whispered, finally relaxing into their embrace. “I... I didn’t mean to freak out like that.”

Peter shook his head, still holding Harry close. “You don’t need to apologize, man. You’ve been through hell. But you’re safe now. You’re safe with us.”

Wade ruffled Harry’s already messy hair, giving him a lopsided smile. “Yeah, Spidey’s right. You can scream all you want, and we’ll be here with cups of water or bad jokes—whichever works. My neighbors are used to screams.”

Harry chuckled softly, wiping away the last of his tears. "Sorry about that... really. I didn’t mean to... scare you guys. I haven't slept alone in so long I thought maybe it would be okay…”

Peter shook his head, a reassuring smile on his face. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone’s got their own scars, Harry. Yours just run a little deeper, that’s all.”

Wade added with a smirk, “And for the record, I know scars.”

Harry’s breathing slowed, and his sobs tapered off as Peter and Wade held him, each of them offering the quiet support that only they knew how to give. The silence was thick, the weight of the night’s events hanging in the air, but it was a peaceful kind of quiet. Harry finally seemed to relax, his body no longer trembling in their arms.

Peter shifted slightly, his hand still on Harry’s back, ready to give him some space. “Hey, you should try to get some rest,” he said softly, his voice low and gentle. “We’ll let you sleep.”

Wade nodded in agreement, pulling back a little. “Yeah, you need to recharge, kiddo,” he said, his tone light but sincere.

But as Peter and Wade started to pull away, Harry’s hand shot out, grabbing both their wrists instinctively. His grip was tight, a reflex born from something deep inside him. His eyes were wide with panic, his breath still ragged. “No, don’t go!” he said, his voice shaky.

Peter froze, exchanging a glance with Wade, unsure of how to respond. Harry’s face was full of something raw—fear, loneliness, a need for comfort he didn’t want to admit. But before either of them could say anything, Harry seemed to realize what he’d done. His face flushed, and he quickly let go, his eyes downcast. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice rough. “I’m a grown-ass fucking man. I shouldn’t need someone next to me to sleep.” He shrugged dismissively, his hand reaching for his wand, which he slid under his pillow with a practiced motion.

Peter wanted to ask about the wand, about the shield he conjured earlier, but the look in Harry’s eyes—scared, vulnerable—stopped him. It wasn’t the time to ask questions, not when Harry was so obviously struggling. Instead, Peter gave him a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Harry. I’ll stay.”

Harry looked up, his eyes wide in surprise, as though he hadn’t expected that answer. He started to protest, but Peter held up a hand, cutting him off. “You’re not alone. Not while we’re here.”

Wade leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Grown man?” he teased, his usual playful grin returning. “Kid, you’re like twelve... It’s okay to be scared.”

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes, though there was a flicker of amusement in them now. “My body is 17, not 12,” he muttered. “And I’m not 17. I just don’t age anymore…I'm and old man.”

Wade’s eyebrows shot up, and he chuckled. “Shit, really? Me either! I'm like mid 40s maybe…but my body is somewhere in my late 20s.”

Peter’s voice softened as he added, “With my healing factor, my aging started to slow already. I'm 21 and I may age another year or two but definitely nothing past 25, I'll probably be frozen like this forever. But hoping for one last growth spurt.”

Wade turned to him with mock horror. “No! I like you short, Pete!” he said, shaking his head.

Harry smirked at that, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. “It’s fine, guys. You can go. Seriously. I’m fine now.”

Wade shook his head, already making himself comfortable on the bed. “No way, princess. Sleepover time. Now make room.” Without waiting for Harry to respond, Wade climbed onto the bed, settling in beside him. Peter followed suit, adjusting himself beside Harry on the other side.

They didn’t touch or cuddle—each of them giving Harry the space he needed—but the presence of both of them seemed to offer him the kind of comfort he didn’t know how to ask for. The bed was crowded, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, Harry could feel the weight of the moment shifting. With them there, even if they weren’t physically close, he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Peter’s eyes fluttered shut, the rhythmic sound of Harry’s breathing slowly easing into a more steady pattern, and he could see that Harry was beginning to drift back to sleep. Wade, as usual, was quiet beside him, but Peter could feel the tension easing in the air.

And, they all drifted into an easy sleep.

Harry
The soft light of the morning crept through the apartment windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Harry’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he didn’t know where he was. The familiar sense of disorientation passed quickly as he felt the warm weight of someone beside him. His body was draped across Peter, and Wade was pressed against his back. A flush spread across Harry’s face as the events of the previous night slowly came back to him. He had never been one to wake up in such close proximity to anyone, especially not after the haunting dreams.

Trying not to disturb them, Harry carefully shifted his weight and slipped out of bed. As he rose, the quiet sounds of Peter’s and Wade’s breathing filled the room, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly. They’d stayed with him through the night, offering a comfort he hadn’t known he needed. But now, the gnawing hunger in his stomach made him realize he couldn’t stay in bed any longer.

He quickly pulled on his shoes and padded out the door, making sure to lock it behind him with a wave of his wand. New York was an unfamiliar city to him, but Harry figured that with a little effort, he could find food. He hadn’t been out much since arriving, but a quiet stroll seemed like just the thing.

He walked down the block, his eyes scanning the street, when he noticed a homeless man standing with a cup in his hand. Harry paused, his gaze flicking over the man for a moment before he approached. "Excuse me," Harry said gently. "Do you know where the nearest grocery store is?"

The man looked up at him, his face weathered but kind, and gave Harry clear directions. Harry smiled and handed the man a $50 bill. The man’s eyes widened in surprise. "You sure, kid?" he asked. "That’s a lot of money."

Harry nodded. "I’m sure. Just… take it. Please."

The man thanked him profusely and, in a surprising gesture of kindness, offered to walk Harry to the store. Harry hesitated, but then agreed, grateful for the company. The man led him to a nearby store, and Harry made his purchase—eggs, spinach, tomatoes, feta cheese, blueberries, sausages, bacon, and more. With a warm smile, the man wished him well and offered to keep an eye on the place for him. Harry thanked him and promised he’d be careful.

When Harry returned to the apartment, he immediately set to work in the kitchen. He whipped up spinach, tomato, and feta omelets, blueberry pancakes, crispy sausages, sizzling bacon, golden hashbrowns, and a fresh fruit platter. He put the kettle on for tea, humming to himself as he worked. He was still a little self-conscious about everything, but cooking always helped him feel grounded. It reminded him of simpler times, of when things weren’t so complicated.

Peter and Wade stumbled into the kitchen, sleep still heavy in their eyes. Wade groaned loudly. "Harry, I like you, man, but it’s 9 a.m. and I should shoot you for being this productive," he said, rubbing his eyes.

Then, Wade’s eyes landed on the spread in front of him. He froze, his expression shifting from tired annoyance to sheer delight. "I love you, Harry!" he declared, dropping into a chair and eagerly piling food onto his plate.

Harry chuckled at the sudden shift in attitude. "Glad you like it."

Peter, still half asleep, blinked at the food before offering a sleepy grin. "Thanks, mate," he mumbled, taking the plate Harry handed him. "Coffee?" he asked with a hint of hope in his voice.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, didn’t even think to get coffee. I’m used to a cuppa first thing. Couldn’t find anything amazing, though. The tea selection in America is seriously lacking."

Peter took the cup of tea, still blinking away sleep. He sipped it slowly and nodded. "I need coffee, though. I’m ordering Starbucks from DoorDash. Wade, the usual?"

Wade, his mouth full of food, nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, baby boy, extra cream, you know how I like it,” he ended with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

Peter shook his head. "You're gross. It's too early for that." Then, turning to Harry, he asked, "Okay, Harry?”

Harry shrugged, “what's a Starbucks?”

Peter groaned and said, “too early for explanations. On a scale of bitter as death to sweet as straight sugar, give me a number between 1 and 10?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I like sweets… maybe 8?"

Peter nodded. "Okay, hot or cold?"

"I already had tea, so cold?" Harry answered.

Peter smiled. "Okay, caramel, chocolate, cinnamon, or apple?"

"With coffee? Caramel, please," Harry said.

Peter smirked. "Alright, two Venti caramel Frappuccinos, lined with caramel, two shots of espresso. And one double mocha Frappuccino, 12 shots of espresso for the merc who can't die of a heart attack with extra cream and whip, add sprinkles. It’ll be here in 20 minutes."

Harry just shrugged, digging into his food, and drank his tea without saying much. Wade, now looking like he was in heaven, looked at Harry. "Man, you’re some kind of chef."

Harry laughed, a little embarrassed. "I am, kinda. I’m writing a cookbook with Hermione. Her pancakes are better, though."

Wade grinned. "So, when are we getting that cookbook?"

Peter chuckled softly. "I think he’s a little busy at the moment," He glanced at Harry, who smiled back, a flicker of warmth in his eyes.

As they ate together, Harry felt the weight of his worries lifting just a little.

The room was quiet for a moment after they'd finished eating, the weight of their conversation hanging heavily in the air. Harry was the first to break the silence, his tone firm but tinged with worry.

"Alright, I need to find Hermione," Harry said, pushing his empty plate aside.

Peter, who had been sitting across from him, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Okay, would she have ended up in the Hudson with you?"

Harry sighed, rubbing his temple. "I don't know. We... we found this magic pool of water in a cave that was supposed to show you your destiny if you drank from it. But my friend Draco accidentally knocked me in, and Hermione tried to help me, but we both fell in. Then, I was suddenly drowning in the Hudson. So, she could honestly be in any body of water in the world. I mean, we were in Africa, and I ended up in New York..." His voice trailed off, the helplessness creeping into his words.

Peter blinked. "Okay, so that narrows it down to... what, 75% of the Earth or more?"

Harry deflated, sinking into his chair. "I know... she might not even be in water! Who the fuck knows how the thing works! Gods, how do I find her?"

Wade, who had been quietly watching the exchange, tilted his head. "Is there somewhere she'd go if you two got separated?"

Harry’s eyes flickered, thinking. "Yeah, in London, she'd go to our flat. Or, if something went wrong, we were supposed to meet at a safe house I have. Hell, I have like ten of them spread across the UK, one in France, one in Bulgaria. But none in America!"

Peter nodded slowly, trying to map it out. "Okay, can you get to your home somehow? Maybe she went there?"

Wade raised an eyebrow at Peter. "What are you doing, Pete? You said I could keep him."

Harry chuckled darkly. "I don’t know how anyway. I don’t have an ID or passport. My kind travels by magic, but I don’t know where in America to find an Apparition point or Firetravel! I’ve never been to America! I could fly…but by broom it would be days and that's assuming I'm in the same world I started in. Or the same time.”

Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Can you call her?"

Harry froze, his face falling. "No. We... we don’t carry cell phones. We call with fireplaces."

Wade blinked, visibly confused. "Okay, weird. Can your... magic stick help?" He gestured vaguely in Harry's direction.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. His hand instinctively went to his wand, and he froze again. "I... I broke like a dozen laws using it. I don't even know the American ones... if I wasn’t a war hero, I’d probably be arrested."

Wade’s eyes narrowed. "War hero?"

"Yeah," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "And I…honestly I'm not very good at what I do. Hermione is the genius, without her I'd have been dead ions ago. I rely on books for spells I don't have memorized, and I have no clue where in muggle America to obtain them. Oh gods…i've lost her! Who even knows if we're in the same…time line or whatever!? I mean superheros exist! I could have lost her forever!”

Peter, trying to keep the conversation focused, spoke up. "Alright, calm down. She can’t die, right? So, she’s alive, at least. That’s something. We can work with 'alive.' If you give me her full name, my boss is really rich and has connections. He can run her name through some databases and try to find her."

Harry looked up, eyes flickering with a glimmer of hope. "Maybe... maybe that’ll work."

Peter smiled slightly. "At least it's a start."

Wade stood up, tapping his fingers on the table. "I’ve got some connections too. Since I’m a merc, I can ask around. See if anyone’s found a girl in water. Got a picture?"

Harry shook his head, his shoulders sagging. "No, but she’s about 5’4”, curly brown hair, brown eyes... beautiful and scared, and I lost her..." His voice wavered slightly.

Peter leaned forward, his voice steady. "Alright, stay calm. Give me her full name and any other details you have. I’ll call Tony."

Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Alright. Hermione Jean Granger. Daughter of Mrs. Granger, but she went by the alias Monica Wilkins for a while. Mr. Granger used the alias Wendell Wilkins too. They only used those names from 1997 to 1998 during the bad part of the war. They lived in Australia to protect them while we fought. I don’t know their real first names, but they’re dentists. Born 19 September 1979... she probably looks 24 though."

Peter nodded, quickly jotting down the details. "Got it. I’ll call Tony right now."

Wade looked over at Harry. "I’m gonna make some calls too, alright, kid?"

"I’m not a kid!" Harry snapped, though it was more out of frustration than anger.

Wade smirked, clearly amused. "But you look like one, and I’m still older." He turned and walked toward the door, leaving Harry and Peter alone.

Peter picked up his phone, dialing quickly. Meanwhile, Harry sank back into his chair, his thoughts scattered and clouded with worry. He wanted to believe they’d find Hermione, but the uncertainty weighed on him like a heavy burden.

A few minutes passed in tense silence, the sound of Peter’s conversation barely reaching Harry’s ears. But then, suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Harry jumped to his feet, Harry shrugged and went to get the coffee.

A few hours later they were nowhere closer to finding Hermione. Tony found her parents but they haven't heard from her in months, and nothing on her “digital footprint” whatever that was, since she was 11. Wade found some chatter about a brunette spotted in New York no one knew but It could have been anyone.

Harry found himself slumped against the wall sitting on the ground drinking from his flask with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, about 2 seconds from a breakdown.

“Hey,” Peter said softly as he knelt down beside Harry, trying to meet his eyes. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll find her.”

Harry let out a bitter scoff, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “We have no leads, no direction. We've basically narrowed it down to... anywhere! Hell, our kind can move through time, Peter. She could be anyWHEN,” he said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. The weight of it all seemed to crash down on him as he slumped against the wall.

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but Wade, ever the disruptor, cut in. “Okay, princess,” he said, bouncing in on his heels with his usual chaotic energy. “Distractions are in order before you start losing it like this guy does,” he added, gesturing to Peter with a smirk. “So, how's your magic stick work, huh?”

Harry shot him a wary look, his mind torn between the rules drilled into him since Hogwarts and the desperation of the moment. He knew magic like his was secretive, especially in the muggle world. But these were superheroes, right? They kept their own secrets, broke their own rules for his sake.

Before he could say anything, Peter jumped in. “You don’t have to answer that, Harry,” Peter said quickly, his voice gentle but firm. The underlying message was clear: We won’t push if you don’t want to.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then looked between them. “No, it’s... it’s fine. You both keep each other’s secrets, right?” His voice was cautious, seeking reassurance.

Wade grinned widely. “You got it, princess!” He chimed, unfazed.

Harry took a deep breath. “Alright,” he said slowly, “you keep mine, I keep yours?” When both Peter and Wade nodded, he swallowed hard. “I’m a wizard,” he said quietly, summoning his wand with a flick of his hand. The air crackled with magic for a brief moment.

Peter's eyes widened. “Like... Loki?” he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and awe.

Harry blinked in surprise. “The literal god?!”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, as though it was no big deal. “He’s... kind of a friend? Well, ally is probably more accurate. He once explained to us mortals that he was a basically a ‘maji.’”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “You know the trickster god Loki? Holy shit. That changes everything!” His eyes lit up as the weight of what Peter had said started to sink in. “There’s a whole debate in my world about which gods are real, which to follow, which to leave sacrifices for... If Loki is real, then that means Thor is real too! Freyja, Odin, Frigg—”

“Thor’s pretty nice,” Peter said with a shrug, as if mentioning an old neighbor. “Very... approachable.”

“You’ve met Thor?!” Harry’s voice pitched higher, disbelief coating every word.

“Yeah, he’s an Avenger,” Peter replied, still nonchalant.

“I... I have no idea what that means, but I will literally give you anything you want if I get to meet him!” Harry was practically breathless, the weight of the magical world in front of him shifting in ways he had never imagined.

Peter laughed, amused by Harry’s enthusiasm. “Next time Thor’s in New York, I’ll invite you to meet him. He’s a pretty cool guy. Travels by Mjölnir most of the time.”

Harry’s face drained of color, and Wade chuckled, nudging Peter. “Petey, I think you broke our little Brit.”

Harry finally gathered himself, shaking his head in disbelief, still reeling from the idea of meeting gods.

“So... are you guys just born magical?” Wade’s voice interrupted his thoughts, the mercenary surprisingly curious.

Harry nodded, clearing his throat. “Yes. Wizards like me are born magical. Usually, the magic runs in the family, like with my parents, but there are exceptions. My friend Hermione was the first witch born to her family. It’s rare but it happens.” He glanced at Peter. “What about you two?”

Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I was bitten by a radioactive spider during a high school field trip.”

Wade cut in with his usual flair. “And I? Oh, I was born a regular human—well, a badass human. Special forces, top of my class, but I had a... little problem with authority,” he said with a sly grin. “Got dishonorably discharged, became a merc, did that for a while, got cancer, and volunteered for some crazy genetic experiments. Turns out they were making mutants, and—ta-da! Here I am, with a shiny new healing factor thanks to some of Wolverine’s blood. But it also gave me super cancer, hence the former butterface.”

Peter blinked. “I didn’t know you were in special forces.”

“Yup,” Wade replied, popping the 'p'. “Damn good at it too. But, turns out when you don’t follow orders and you kill a few too many boogie men, they don’t want you around anymore. Prefer merc life anyway. And now, because Spidey here thinks I should be a better person, I play superhero part-time.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. I understand what it’s like to take orders you don’t agree with... and to be judged by people who don’t understand the sacrifices you make for their safety.”

Wade’s usual grin softened for a moment, and Peter glanced between them before breaking the silence. “So, since we’re sharing and all... can we ask more questions? Wade’s never been this open, and I’ve never met a wizard.”

Harry grinned, his earlier tension easing. “How about we get more liquor and make a night of it? Anything goes.”

Wade’s smile returned full force. “Now that is a plan I can get behind!” He immediately bolted off to grab the booze.

“Get cigarettes too!” Harry called after him.

And just like that, the room quieted, leaving Peter and Harry alone for the first time since Harry had been pulled from the water. The air between them was thick with unsaid words, a tension lingering just beneath the surface.

Peter sat across from Harry, trying to focus on anything other than how ridiculously attractive this guy was. It wasn’t like Peter to get distracted like this, especially not in the middle of a situation as serious as this one. They were supposed to be figuring out a way to save someone, and yet all Peter could think about was how Harry looked like he stepped right out of a magazine.

Harry wasn’t like anyone Peter had ever met before. There was a calm, almost effortless confidence about him, but it never came off as cocky. He was funny, but without Wade's crudeness. Peter found himself drawn in, watching Harry's every move as if he couldn’t look away. The guy had this natural charm, something magnetic that pulled people in. Maybe it was the way he carried himself—casual but poised, like he knew exactly who he was and didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.

Peter swallowed hard as Harry pulled out a cigarette, blowing softly on the tip. It lit instantly, a spark of magic that made Peter's breath hitch. He had seen plenty of powers over the years, but something about the way Harry did it felt... different. Maybe it was the ease, the subtlety, the lack of showmanship. Or maybe it was just how damn good Harry looked while doing it.

The olive-green shirt Harry wore clung just enough to show off his lean muscles, and the black ripped jeans gave him that rebellious edge. His messy hair spilled out from under a beanie in a way that seemed deliberately careless, and Peter couldn’t help but stare at the snakes tattooed across his collarbones, peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. There was a script inked along Harry's forearm, and Peter wanted to lean closer just to see what it said.

And then there was the lip piercing. A small silver hoop on his bottom lip. Peter had never really liked facial piercings, but on Harry? It worked. It more than worked—it made Peter feel something he wasn’t used to feeling, something that made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Peter’s gaze had been trailing over Harry’s lips when they curved into a smirk. “See anything you like?” Harry asked, his voice teasing.

Peter’s face flushed, and he immediately looked away, heat rushing to his cheeks. "Uh, sorry," he muttered, trying to play it off.

Harry chuckled, his laugh low and rich. "Just fucking with you," he said, stretching his arms behind his head, muscles flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. He wasn’t as bulky as Wade, but it suited him, his build perfect for his frame.

Peter needed to break the tension before he made a fool of himself again. “You know, cigarettes are bad for you, right?” he blurted out, sounding more awkward than he intended.

Harry scoffed, taking another drag and exhaling the smoke. "My lungs heal faster than this can damage them," he said, his tone casual but distant. "Besides, the smoke... it helps with shitty memories." He looked away, eyes clouded over with something dark. “I don’t know how Wade did military. I was involuntarily part of a war, and it still haunts me.”

Peter’s brow furrowed as he listened. He hadn’t expected Harry to open up like that. There was something vulnerable in his voice, something raw. Peter had seen plenty of pain, but hearing it from someone like Harry, who seemed so put-together, hit differently.

"It’s not like I don’t know it wasn’t my fault, by the way," Harry continued, his voice dropping lower. "I’ve accepted that. But running, hiding, being hunted for a year—fighting alongside people you love, watching them die in front of you... that sticks with you. I was seventeen. Seventeen and having to kill or be killed. And even now, even though I know I’ve moved on, part of me is still stuck there. Like for me…the war never ended.”

Peter felt a heaviness settle over the conversation. He knew that kind of pain—the kind that never really goes away, no matter how much time passes.

“That sounds like hell,” Peter said softly, his voice filled with empathy. “I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

Harry gave a small nod, his eyes distant, but Peter could tell he was still listening.

“I still see Gwen sometimes,” Peter admitted, his throat tightening. He hadn’t meant to talk about her, but Harry’s honesty made it easier, made it feel safe. "She was my girlfriend. And this guy—he called himself the Green Goblin—he took her. Threw her off a building. I... I tried to save her."

Harry remained quiet, his expression softening, but he didn’t push. He let Peter speak, and for that, Peter was grateful.

"I dove after her, used my webs to try and catch her. I was so close. I can still see her, see her face. She was scared, but when she saw me coming... she calmed down just a bit. She trusted me. She relaxed, like she knew I’d catch her. And I tried. I really tried, but I was too late. Just a fraction of a second too late." Peter paused, his voice breaking. "Her body hit the ground right as my webs caught her. She died instantly."

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, staring at the floor as the weight of the memory pressed down on him. "Sometimes I wake up screaming. I still see that look in her eyes—the trust. She believed I could save her, and I couldn’t."

A long silence hung between them, heavy with grief and shared trauma.

Harry took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. “That’s... rough, mate. I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to lose people, to feel responsible even when it wasn’t your fault.”

Peter nodded. "It feels like part of me is still there, falling after her."

For a moment, they sat in the quiet, two people who had seen more than they should have, both haunted by memories they couldn’t escape.

Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer now. “War, death, loss... it doesn’t just disappear. It leaves scars. Some you can see. Some you can’t.” He glanced down at his own arm, where the script was inked. "But maybe... just maybe... we find ways to live with it."

Peter looked up at him, grateful for the unspoken understanding between them. “Maybe.”

Harry flicked the ash from his cigarette, glancing at Peter with curiosity in his eyes. "Hey mate...what's an Avenger?"

Peter blinked, a little caught off guard by the question. "What, seriously?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry shrugged casually. "Yeah, seriously. Never heard of 'em."

Peter scratched the back of his neck, trying to figure out where to even start. "Uh, okay, well... the Avengers are a group of heroes—people with powers, abilities, tech, you know, that kind of stuff. We fight together when there's a big threat, like, world-ending level bad guys. I guess you could say we're Earth's mightiest heroes or something."

Harry gave him a half-smirk. "So, like a club for superheroes?"

Peter chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you could put it like that. We've got all kinds of people. Iron Man, he’s this genius with a high-tech suit. Captain America, he's... well, he's basically a super-soldier from the '40s with a shield. Thor’s a literal god from another realm. Oh, and there's me, Spider-Man—I'm, uh, kind of the youngest member."

Harry’s eyes flickered with amusement. "Spider-Man, huh? I mean, I knew you had something going on with the webs, but I didn’t know you were part of a super-team."

"Yeah, I sort of got roped into it. Big alien invasions, rogue A.I.s, you name it," Peter said, feeling a little awkward about it. "We’ve saved the world a few times, no big deal."

Harry raised an eyebrow, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Sounds like a lot of responsibility."

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, it is. But, you know, I’ve got help. It’s not like I’m doing it alone. And, uh, with great power comes great responsibility, right?"

Harry laughed softly, shaking his head. "Of course, that's how you’d put it."

Peter rubbed his face, a little embarrassed now. "Okay, maybe that sounds cheesy, but it’s true. The Avengers... we try to do the right thing, protect people who can’t protect themselves."

Harry gave a slow nod, his expression thoughtful. "Sounds like something good to fight for. Better than most causes I’ve seen."

"Yeah," Peter agreed, glancing at Harry. "I mean, we’re not perfect. We’ve had our problems, but... it’s a family. We look out for each other."

Harry smirked, flicking his cigarette into the distance. "A family of superheroes. Guess I’ve seen weirder things."

Peter leaned back against the wall, thinking. "We’ve got more people in the Avengers, too. Hawkeye—he’s this guy with perfect aim, pretty much a walking bullseye. Black Widow was this insane spy, one of the best fighters I've ever met. Then there's the Hulk, who’s, uh, a massive green rage monster that smashes everything in sight. But he’s got a heart, you know? He just needs to stay calm, or else... well, you get the picture.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at the description, but didn’t interrupt.

"And then there's Wade," Peter continued with a sigh. "I’ve been trying to get him to join us for a while, but there’s this... problem. He kills people. I mean, I know he kills bad guys, and I get that in his mind it makes sense. But why can’t he just—" Peter paused, searching for the right words, "—put them in prison, like they deserve?"

Harry chuckled, but it was a hollow sound, his gaze distant. "Some people don’t deserve prison."

Peter frowned, sitting up. "Who are we to decide that?"

Harry shrugged, flicking the ash from his cigarette into the wind. "I guess it’s what you choose to risk, mate. You let a guy live, and he kills a little girl the next day... was it worth it? And even if you think it was, would her parents agree? Or say the prison system lets him out after a few years, but he learned from other criminals in there. Got better. Goes on to kill 50 people before he's caught the next time. Was it worth it to let him live just to sleep better at night?”

The question hit Peter harder than he expected, and he suddenly found it difficult to meet Harry’s eyes. "I’ve never really seen it that way," he admitted softly.

"I don’t mean to change your ideology," Harry said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I get it, really. When I faced Voldemort in the war…i should have used the killing curse but I couldn't. I got lucky, I rebounded his own curae back at him, he used the killing curse and it killed him. But if it hadn't, so many more people would have died. And it would have been my fault.”

“Killing, just feels wrong.” Peter said softly.

“I really do get it.” Harry said, nodding. “I was the same way, then I worked in magical law enforcement. My job was to put the most dangerous and disgusting monsters away for a living. And sometimes... they got out. Or the system failed, and they never went away at all. And people got killed, or worse. And it always felt like that was on me. If I had just killed them, it wouldn’t have happened." His voice took on a quiet, bitter edge. "Perks of being a war hero, though... when the bad guy dies unexpectedly, no one asks questions."

Peter let that sink in. Wade’s approach suddenly made a lot more sense than it ever had before. He wasn’t just a chaotic force, out for blood—there was a method to his madness. A grim logic.

Harry flicked his cigarette away with a subtle flick of his hand, and Peter watched as it disappeared into thin air, banished without a word. "Life’s all gray areas," Harry continued, his tone resigned. "Everyone’s just trying to convince themselves the world’s black and white."

Peter stayed quiet, the weight of Harry’s words settling over him like a heavy fog. It wasn’t that he disagreed with Harry, but for the first time, he could see why someone like Wade—or Harry—might make the choices they did. Maybe it wasn’t always about right or wrong.

Maybe, sometimes, it was about what you could live with. Wade stumbled in a few moments later breaking the tension.

Wade set the carton of cigarettes down, his arms loaded with clinking bottles of liquor, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Alright, boys, let’s make this interesting,” he said, setting the booze on the table with a flourish. “Cigarettes, whiskey, and a little game of truth, huh? What could go wrong?”

Harry, already reaching for a bottle of whiskey, raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Alright, who’s got a question for who? How are we doing this?”

Peter, trying to stay calm, sat down and looked at both of them. “I have an idea. I’ll go first, and you both get to ask me a question. Then it’s Harry’s turn, and we switch off.”

Wade clapped his hands together, laughing. “Before we start, anyone got safe words or hard limits? I always ask before I play.” He shot Peter a flirtatious grin, winking.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Nothing off limits for me.”

“Me either,” Peter mumbled, trying to act casual.

“Alright, Pete, first question,” Wade leaned forward with a wicked grin. “Are you straight?”

Peter sputtered, nearly knocking over his glass. “That’s your first question?!”

Wade shrugged. “Been curious a while, and you never said!”

Harry smirked, pouring Peter a shot. “Come on, it’s a fair question.”

Blushing furiously, Peter downed the shot, feeling the warmth of the whiskey burning in his chest. “I’m bisexual.”

“Nice, nice,” Wade said, nodding approvingly. “Pansexual myself.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. “I’m gay, but I’ve slept with women. It’s nice, but I don’t prefer it.”

Wade grinned. “Interesting. So Hermione isn't a girlfriend?”

Harry scoffs and says, “no, technically I think she's my fiance?”

Wade's eyes go wide but before he can ask harry tuts, “no no no, not my turn!”

“Alright, Petey Pie's turn still,” Wade moped.

“Are you a virgin?” Harry directed the question at Peter, who immediately turned bright red.

Wade chuckled, clearly entertained. “Good question, princess.”

Peter groaned and held out his glass. “Shot, please.”

Harry obliged, pouring another, and Peter quickly downed it, wishing the floor would open up. “I’ve... uh, gotten a girl off a few times, but that’s all. Never done anything with a guy.”

Harry tilted his head, intrigued. “Gotten off how?”

Peter’s blush deepened. “With my hands a few times... my mouth once. Now, no more questions! It’s your turn, Harry.”

Wade leaned back in his chair, watching Harry closely. “Alright, princess, top or bottom?”

Harry chuckled, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle. “I’m a switch, but I prefer top. I like the control. Though, I enjoy bottoming from time to time.”

Wade laughed. “Now that’s a shock! Someone so pretty, I’d think you were a power bottom.”

Harry snorted. “No, you should meet my ex, Draco. He was the power bottom.”

Peter, eager to shift the focus, jumped in. “My question! You said some wizards have wizard parents, and some don’t. Did you?”

Harry nodded, his expression growing a little more serious. “Yeah. My mum was a witch, my dad a wizard. But they died in the first wizard war when I was a baby. I was raised by my mum’s sister, and she wasn’t a witch. So I didn’t know until I was eleven.”

“Wow,” Peter said softly, “must have been a shock.”

Harry smirked. “You have no idea. A half-giant shows up and tells you you’re a wizard... it’s a bit of a shock, yeah.”

Wade grinned, clearly fascinated. “Alright, my turn!

“What’s your superpower, exactly?” Harry asked.

Wade leaned in, mock-serious as he answered. “Superhuman agility, balance, coordination, reflexes, speed, and strength. My muscles produce fewer fatigue toxins, so I’m stronger and have better reflexes than I should. I can lift about two tons without injury. And I regenerate. Healing factor, baby.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “If I cut you exactly in two, would you grow into two different people?”

Wade burst out laughing. “Nope, one of the halves would have a molecule more than the other, and only that one would regenerate.”

“Wicked,” Harry said, clearly impressed.

Peter looked between them, slightly overwhelmed by the rapid back-and-forth. “Why’d you join the special forces?” he asked Wade, curious.

Wade’s usual grin softened for a moment. “Wanted to see the world and help people. Canadian special forces sounded like a good idea at the time. Long story, though. Alright, Petey-boy, your turn again.”

Peter grimaced, taking a premature shot, while Harry leaned back in his chair, thinking of the next question.

Peter sat there, flushed and feeling completely out of his depth. It became clear after Harry’s last question that the two of them were on a mission to embarrass him as much as possible. Harry grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Alright, Peter, who was the first guy you ever masturbated to?”

Peter gasped, his face turning a deep shade of red. “What?!”

“Come on,” Harry said, not letting him off the hook. “Everyone who's gay, bi, or pan has masturbated to an image, a movie, or something. Who was he?”

Peter groaned, taking another shot, his throat burning from the whiskey. Wade leaned in, clearly enjoying Peter’s discomfort. “Come on, baby boy, answer!”

Peter sighed, realizing there was no way out of this. “Fine! It was... a cartoon character. Danny Phantom. My first male crush, alright?”

Harry looked a bit puzzled. “Don’t know the cartoon.”

Wade, grinning ear to ear, whipped out his phone and pulled up a picture of Danny Phantom, showing it to Harry. Harry nodded in approval. “Very nice.”

Wade, clearly enjoying himself, turned to Harry. “Who was yours?”

Harry smirked. “Didn’t get to really watch TV, but I stole comic books from my cousin. I think the first I fapped to was probably Nightwing... or Superboy.”

“So, you liked the lithe and boyish charm look, huh?” Wade teased.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, didn’t go for the rugged handsome thing until I was older.”

Wade smirked. “Mine was probably Aladdin.”

Harry spat out his whiskey, laughing. “Aladdin?!”

Wade nodded, completely serious. “Yes! I’ve got a thing for the ‘diamond in the rough,’ the scoundrel vibe.”

Harry was still laughing. “Of all the people, Aladdin!”

Wade grinned, completely unfazed. “Alright, back to Pete... who’s more handsome, me or Harry?”

Peter’s face turned an even brighter red. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from Harry and took a few gulps straight from it before mumbling, “I think you’re both very attractive. Now, next line of questioning!”

Harry chuckled, clearly amused. “Alright, my turn.”

Peter, eager to throw Harry off, asked quickly, “Do you think I’m attractive?”

Without missing a beat, Harry got up, moving closer to Peter, making his breath hitch. He braced one arm on the chair behind Peter, leaning in with a slow, seductive smile that sent Peter’s heart racing. “Of course, I think you’re attractive. I told you before... you’re beautiful.”

Peter looked like he was about to short-circuit, his mind going blank as Harry smirked and went back to his seat. Wade, wide-eyed, grinned. “That was hot! Can we play truth or dare next?!”

“No!” Peter practically yelped, his face still burning.

Harry chuckled and turned to Wade. “Alright, Wade, your turn.”

Wade leaned back, eyeing Harry. “Would you let me top you? I don’t bottom.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “I bet I could get you to bottom for me. But you’re handsome and strong... I’d bottom for you, but don’t expect me to make it easy.”

Wade’s grin widened. “I like a challenge.”

Harry smirked. “Me too.”

Wade looked thoughtful for a moment. “For the record, though... I don’t bottom.”

Harry didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood up, walked over to Wade, and straddled his lap, making Wade blink in surprise. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, his eyes dark with playful intensity. “What if I promise the most mind-blowing fuck of your life? I could use magic to tie you down, make you feel things you haven’t even imagined. I could stimulate every nerve ending in your body all at once and ride you so good you’ll never want to be anywhere but beneath me. And when you finally cum—and trust me, I’ll make you work for it—you might die from the pleasure. When you wake up, we go again.”

For the first time in the conversation, Wade looked genuinely flustered, his cheeks flushing. “Maybe... I mean, I’m open to trying new things.”

Harry grinned victoriously, climbing off Wade and going back to his seat. “See? Told you I could get you to bottom for me.”

Peter, watching the entire exchange with a mix of jealousy and arousal, finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Hey, uh... can I have a cigarette after all?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, handing him one from the carton Wade had brought in

Harry handed Peter a cigarette, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "Here you go, mate." He leaned back in his chair, clearly amused.

Peter put the cigarette between his lips and mumbled, "Lighter?" His heart was still racing from the heated exchanges.

Harry, with a teasing smile, leaned in close. His breath was warm, barely brushing Peter's lips, and Peter felt a shiver run down his spine. "Don't need one," Harry said softly. He blew lightly over the cigarette, and with a subtle flick of magic, it lit up. Peter froze, staring into Harry's eyes as the ember glowed, the space between them charged with something Peter couldn't quite explain.

Harry pulled back, a smirk playing on his lips as Peter took a deep drag from the cigarette, trying to calm his racing heart. Wade, of course, couldn’t resist adding his own commentary.

"That was so hot, I need a cigarette too now," Wade said, laughing as he grabbed one for himself. Harry smirked and leaned forward to ligjt it the same way and leaned back. Wade inhaled, still watching the tension between Harry and Peter with clear interest. "Seriously, can we just play truth or dare after this? It feels like we're halfway there anyway."

Peter, his face still red, groaned. "No, Wade, we're not playing truth or dare! Truth is bad enough!”

Harry chuckled, leaning back casually in his chair, taking another swig of whiskey as he glanced between the two of them. "Your turn, Wade."

Wade grinned, taking a moment to think before looking over at Harry, his expression playful. "Alright, princess, let’s dive deep... Why do you hate being a war hero so much much, seems like a sweet gig?"

Harry’s smirk faltered for a moment, and he leaned forward slightly, his demeanor shifting into something more serious. "Because the war took too much from me," he said, his voice quieter now, though still strong. "I lost my friends, my family... and even when it was over, I felt like the battle never really ended. When I finally won, I didn’t feel like a hero. I felt... empty." He paused, looking down at the bottle in his hands before meeting Wade’s gaze again. "Being a hero doesn’t come without cost. And sometimes, you have to ask yourself if that cost is worth it."

The room fell silent for a moment as Harry’s words hung in the air, more serious than any of them had expected. Peter felt a pang of empathy. He knew something about loss, about being thrust into something bigger than yourself before you were ready.

Wade broke the silence, his usual playful grin softer now. "Well, damn, Harry... didn’t mean to get all heavy on you, but thanks for sharing, man."

Harry shrugged. "Part of the game, right? No limits."

Peter nodded, the smoke from the cigarette curling around him as he glanced between Wade and Harry. "It’s heavy," Peter said quietly. "But... it’s real."

Wade, not one to linger too long in the serious moments, clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough of the heavy stuff. I think it's time we lighten things up again. Harry, Pete, you ready for another round of personal embarrassment?"

Peter groaned, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He knew Wade wouldn’t let up, and there was something oddly comforting about the way they all shared their lives like this, no matter how awkward or intense it got.

Harry, still watching Peter closely, raised his bottle in a mock toast. "Always ready."

Wade leaned back, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Good, because I've got a whole list of dirty questions waiting." He grinned mischievously. "Let the games continue, boys!"

The next few dozen questions ended in fits of blushing and laughter. Peter leaned forward, his eyes flicking toward Harry as he came up with the next question. “If you could go back… change one thing in time…you could even prevent the war... would you?”

Harry let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and hollow. He reached up and twisted a ring on his finger, tugging it off slowly. "This," he said, holding it up to catch the light, "is a piece of a time turner. The last one in existence." The room seemed to hold its breath as he continued, his voice low but steady. "It's a magical device that can take you through time."

Peter’s eyes widened. Wade, unusually quiet for once, leaned in, intrigued.

"Me and Hermione," Harry went on, "we used one once—back before the second war. After the war ended, a new law was passed and they were all rounded up and destroyed. But we... we were sure, so sure, if we had one, we could prevent so much suffering. We thought we could stop it all." He paused, the weight of his words sinking in before he spoke again. "So we found a way to build one. Only ours didn’t just go back hours like the old ones. It could go back years."

Peter’s cigarette burned down to the filter, forgotten in his hand, as he stared at the ring.

"It took us years to build it," Harry continued, his tone growing darker. "And once we had it… we just looked at it. Just stared at it. Because in theory, it was great. But when you're really faced with the chance? When you're holding time itself in your hands? It’s not that simple. You realize… you start to ask yourself, ‘When do we go back?’"

Peter shifted in his seat, the question hanging heavy between them.

Harry’s gaze hardened as he continued, "The war… it was all the work of one man. Tom Riddle. Voldemort he called himself. He gathered followers when he was just a kid, by 13 they called themselves the Knights of Walpurgis. Started with dark magic soon after and around sixteen— he ripped his soul apart. By the time he was 43, he started the first war, the one that killed my parents. Then came the second war, and that took my godfather, my friends..."

Harry’s hand clenched around the ring, his knuckles white. "So when do we go back to stop him? Before the second war? The first? When he was sixteen? Seventeen? Forty-three? Two? When do we intervene?"

He looked at Peter now, his green eyes intense. "What would it change? For all we knew, going back could mean we’d never even meet. Go back far enough. What if we were never born? And if we weren't born, then we couldn't use time travel to fix time. We create a paradox and then what happens? Maybe if my parents had lived, I never would’ve become who I am. The war shaped me, who would I be without it? Maybe I wouldn’t have befriended Draco—he’s the one who helped me come out of the closet. What if I never did? What if everything I am… everything I’ve fought for… was erased because of one change?"

Peter stared at Harry, the weight of the words settling on his shoulders.

"We’re a result of our pasts," Harry said, his voice quieter now. "They shape us. Build us. And what? I go back and kill some scared kid before he becomes a monster? What if that ripple makes someone worse? A different, darker future? And if I never intervene at all he becomes a monster, by going back I change things I won't understand until its over. So from the moment I decide to go back, ripples begin, and what if I'm standing over this scared kid who MIGHT someday become Voldemort but my being there means he wouldn't. Then I killed an innocent kid for no reason! What if one of the men he one day controls was worst but was always kept in line by Voldemort?”

Wade finally spoke, his voice unusually soft. "So… what did you do with it? The time turner?"

Harry’s lips twisted into a faint smile, one filled with both pride and sorrow. "In the end… Hermione and I split the mechanism. The piece that makes it work—we broke it into two and each took one. We destroyed the research, wiped our memories of how we built it. And we made a promise." He looked at the ring in his hand. "We promised each other that we’d never give the pieces to the other, no matter what."

"Why didn’t you just destroy it?" Peter asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry stared at the ring, his thumb brushing over the surface. "Because… after everything we lost, after all the pain and sacrifice, we couldn’t bring ourselves to destroy it. It’s a reminder." He slipped the ring back onto his finger. "A symbol that no matter what, we have to move forward. Never back."

The room fell into a heavy silence. Peter’s eyes lingered on the ring, understanding dawning in his gaze. Wade, uncharacteristically somber, nodded slowly.

Harry leaned back, letting out a long breath. "So, no… I wouldn’t go back. As much as it hurts, we can’t change what’s been done. We can only learn from it."

Peter flicked away his spent cigarette, his voice quiet. "Yeah… I get that. I always thought I would, but I don't think I could.”

“With the Gwen girl?” Harry asked.

Peter shook his head, “No. That was…horrible. But how would I even change that? I did everything I could that day already. If I went back it would be to do something different and that day there's nothing I could have changed. No…When I first became Spider-Man, I entered a wrestling competition for extra money. Stupid, I know.” He let out a small chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And they cheated me out of my winnings. I was so angry. I was just a kid, with these crazy powers, no responsibility. I didn’t know what to do with them. And back then, I was... reckless. Quick to anger. Dealing with teenage crap. I wasn’t a superhero yet. Just a kid.”

Wade and Harry stayed quiet, both listening intently, as Peter’s voice softened, his gaze turning inward.

“A man... he robbed the manager who cheated me. He was running toward the elevator to escape, and I could’ve stopped him. I should’ve stopped him,” Peter continued, his voice thick with regret. “But I was so angry at the manager, I stepped aside. Let the guy go. He said, ‘Thanks,’ and I just stood there. The manager... he looked betrayed, but I felt like he deserved it. He had it coming. If he hadn’t cheated me, I would’ve stopped the thief. It was his own fault.”

Peter paused, swallowing hard, the weight of his words settling in the air. “And then I left. My uncle Ben... he was supposed to pick me up from the library. That’s where he thought I was. My aunt and uncle raised me, and my uncle... he was a great man. But I’d been such a dick to him lately. He tried to spend time with me that day, and I blew him off.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on. “I was walking to meet him, and then I saw the crowd. The cops. I ran. And there he was... in the street, shot, bleeding. Dying.”

Peter’s eyes glazed over, the memories rushing back like a flood. “The thief... the one I let go... he tried to steal my uncle’s car. And my uncle... he fought back. Tried to stop him. Because he was a hero. Because it was the right thing to do. And the thief shot him.”

The room was silent for a moment. Wade and Harry could feel the heaviness in Peter’s voice, in his heart. He continued, his words slower now, as if each one hurt.

“I held his hand as he died. And it was all my fault. I always told myself, if I could go back, I would change that moment. But... that moment made me who I am. It made me responsible. It made me fight for what’s right.” Peter shook his head, as if trying to make sense of it all. “The hero I’ve become, all the people I’ve saved, it’s because of that moment. So... I wouldn’t change it. It hurt, but it shaped me.”

Wade and Harry exchanged a glance, their expressions softened. Wade leaned forward, his voice gruff but genuine. “You were just a kid, Pete. It wasn’t your fault.”

Peter shrugged, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “Yeah, but it’s what made me who I am.”

Harry let the moment sit for a beat before he spoke up, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s a hell of a story.”

Harry poured another round of drinks, the liquor sloshing into the glasses as he moved with smooth precision. He slid one over to Peter, then to Wade, and finally took one for himself.

All three of them clinked glasses, taking the shot in unison. Harry set his glass down with a light thud, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alright, Wade, your turn. Would you change anything?”

Wade leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. He paused for dramatic effect, letting the silence build before speaking again, his tone much more serious now.

“When I got cancer, I had a girl. Vanessa. I loved her. But when I found out I had cancer, I didn’t want her to see me suffer. I didn’t want her to watch me die slowly, so I left her. I thought if I could just get cured, I'd go back to her. I found this program that made me a mutant, thought they could fix me, make me better. But instead, they made me a monster.”

He took a deep breath, running his hand over his face. “I couldn’t burden her with being with someone like me. Someone who looked like that. So, I stayed gone. I never went back.”

Peter watched Wade intently, his face full of empathy. “But now? Could you go back to her? Or change it so you never left?”

Wade shook his head slowly. “No. I kept tabs on her. She’s married now. Has a daughter. She even got out of the criminal lifestyle. She’s happy. And that’s all I ever wanted for her. If she stayed with me she'd still be in danger every second of her life. She's sade and happy now, I wouldn't take that from her.”

There was a long pause before Peter spoke, his voice softer than before. “You deserve to be happy too, Wade.”

Wade smirked, but there was a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Thanks, Pete.”

Harry, sensing the moment, poured another round of shots, his fingers working quickly. “Alright, alright. Enough of the heavy stuff. Time to lighten things up a bit. I dunno whose turn it was, but now it’s a free-for-all. Wade, tell us a secret. One that no one else knows.”

Wade tilted his head, “No one?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed playfully. “No one.”

“I have a daughter,” Wade said quietly. “Her mother doesn't know who the father is…but I know she's mine.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Wade’s words sinking in. Peter blinked, his brow furrowing, and Harry paused mid-pour, the bottle hovering in the air.

Wade’s gaze was steady, but there was something vulnerable beneath his usual bravado. His fingers drummed lightly on the edge of his glass, as if he was waiting for their reactions, but his eyes never strayed from them.

“I’ve never told anyone,” Wade continued, his voice low. “Her mother and I had a fling years ago, we didn’t exactly part on the best terms. But I know she's mine. My healing factor, it’s in her. She has it.”

Harry set the bottle down, his gaze softening. “Wait... you never told anyone?”

Wade shook his head. “I didn’t want her mother to worry about me, or about my past. And I never wanted to burden my kid with that... burden her with being part of my mess.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the room as if looking for something, maybe for them to understand.

Peter cleared his throat, his voice thick with uncertainty. “So... she’s out there? You’ve never met her?”

Wade shook his head again, his lips curling into a sad half-smile. “I’ve kept tabs on her. She’s still young, too young to understand any of this. I couldn’t put her in danger, I'm a mercenary. you know how many people would hurt her to get to me? She deserves a normal life. A real one. She hasn't figured out she has powers, she just thinks she's really healthy and heals quickly. She hasn't been hurt bad enough to figure it out.”

There was a long pause as Harry and Peter processed what Wade had just shared. It was a moment of raw honesty, something Wade rarely gave.

Finally, Harry spoke, his voice softer than usual. “You’re a good man, Wade. For what it’s worth, I think it's selfless and brave. To protect her even if it means you can't be with her.”

Wade gave a small, grateful nod. “Thanks. I just... I want her to be happy, you know?”

Peter, always the empathetic one, shifted in his seat. “You don’t have to be alone in this, Wade. You’ve got us.”

Wade gave him a lopsided grin, but the weight of the moment lingered in his eyes. “I know. Thanks, Pete.”

Harry, ever the one to defuse tension, raised his glass again, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alright, enough of this sentimental stuff. Who’s next?”

Peter chuckled, grateful for the shift in mood. He grabbed his glass, his thoughts still lingering on Wade’s secret. “Yeah, Harry. Go ahead, take the next shot. Let’s see if you can top that.”

The room grew thick with tension as Harry's voice dropped to a quieter tone, the words weighing heavily in the air. Wade and Peter listened, their expressions somber, the levity from before slipping away. Harry took a deep breath, his eyes distant as if he were looking back at something he wished he could forget.

Harry took a deep breath, his eyes cast down at the table. "Back when I was married," he began, his voice unusually soft, "my wife cheated on me."

Peter and Wade exchanged a glance, immediately sensing the shift in Harry’s tone. He wasn’t the same confident, unbreakable figure they were used to. Instead, there was a vulnerability there, something raw, as if sharing this was costing him more than he’d ever let on.

"It wasn’t a secret," Harry continued, his words deliberate. "Everyone knew. But I pretended not to. I just… let it happen. Let her cheat. And when it was time, I let her leave."

Wade leaned forward slightly, his usual snark absent. Peter, too, was quiet, both of them feeling the weight of what Harry was saying.

"In the beginning, I think it was because of the fame. Everywhere I went, there were cameras, people wanting to talk to me, wanting something. But she… she was a professional athlete. She had her own life, her own goals. I thought I was supporting her, showing up to her matches, cheering her on, but all the attention would turn to me. She asked me to stop coming, so I did. But then she was angry because I wasn’t there to support her anymore."

Harry’s hand tightened around his glass. "She started cheating with her teammates, and I knew. The first time, I knew. She was distant, quiet. Spent forever in the shower. Stopped wanting me to touch her. Then she started doing up her hair and makeup before practices. Things she never used to care about."

"Why didn’t you say anything?" Wade asked quietly, uncharacteristically serious.

Harry let out a bitter laugh. "For wizards, there’s a test… to see if someone’s your soulmate. We did it before we got married. It's this spell, you do it over a potion with your blood, and by morning it turns a color. Red means… red means you're perfect for each other. Soulmates."

Peter’s brows furrowed as Harry continued, his eyes hardening with old pain. "So, when she cheated, I thought it didn’t matter. I thought she’d come back, that we’d work it out because that’s what soulmates do, right? I was willing to forgive anything. I loved her."

His grip on the glass tightened, knuckles white. "But she kept pulling away, more and more. One night, she came home, and it was different. It wasn’t just cheating anymore. It was like she resented me. Hated me for something. The fights started—out of nowhere. She made problems that didn’t exist. I was losing her, and I didn’t even understand why."

His voice dropped, the words harder to get out. "So, one night… I did the test again. I took her blood while she slept, did the spell myself."

Peter’s breath caught. Harry’s eyes closed, as if the memory of what came next was too much to relive. “It stayed clear,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The potion didn’t change. We weren’t soulmates. We weren’t anything.”

Peter swallowed hard, feeling the knot of tension in his own chest. Wade sat back in his chair, his usual swagger nowhere to be found.

“I confronted her the next morning. I was angry, confused, hurt… and that’s when she told me everything. She faked the test. She wanted to marry me so badly, she lied. Said she loved me and thought it would be enough. I didn’t even know what to say to that.” Harry let out a shaky breath, staring into his glass as if it held the answers he had never found.

“And then…” His voice faltered for a moment, before he forced himself to continue. “She told me she had an abortion. Our first year of marriage. She got pregnant, but I was never home. Magical law enforcement… it was dangerous work. She dropped hints about wanting kids, and I kept saying it wasn’t the right time. But she was already pregnant. She didn’t tell me. She didn’t even give me a chance. She went and had the abortion.”

Wade blinked, his jaw tightening. “She just… didn’t tell you?”

Harry shook his head. “No. And she blamed me for it. For the decision. For everything. Said I wasn’t around, said it was my fault she couldn’t keep the baby.” His voice cracked, and he gripped the glass tighter. “She had two miscarriages after that. And she blamed me for those, too. Said my absence, my job, everything I’d done… that I was the reason she lost our children.”

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the weight of Harry’s confession sinking into him like a heavy stone. Wade remained still, but his eyes were fixed on Harry, his usual bravado softened by genuine empathy.

“I wanted kids,” Harry continued, his voice raw. “If she’d just told me, I would’ve quit my job. I would’ve found a way to make it work. But she never gave me the chance. And when she told me all of this… I was angry. So angry. I felt betrayed. And I did something I shouldn’t have. I lashed out. My magic… it reacted to my anger. I cursed her.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “What… what do you mean?”

Harry’s hands shook, and he set the glass down before he shattered it. “I cursed her womb. Without thinking. I was so full of rage, I told her she’d never carry my child again. My magic… It made that a reality. Magic is semi sentient and when a wizard is really upset it can act on its own accord…She could never have children with me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Wade leaned forward, his voice quiet. “Did she know?”

Harry nodded. “She knew. And that’s when I realized how far I’d fallen. How much damage we’d done to each other. I did the only thing I could think of: I wiped her memory of the curse. Of everything. Made her forget the fight, forget the curse. I convinced her to leave me, to find someone else, someone she could love and be happy with. She deserved that. And now… she has kids with someone else. A family.”

Wade sat back, exhaling slowly. “Shit, man…”

Peter looked down at his hands, feeling the weight of Harry’s story. He couldn’t imagine carrying that kind of pain, that kind of regret. Harry, who seemed so strong and unshakable, had been through so much.

“I never told anyone,” Harry said softly, his voice barely audible. “Not a soul. Not even Hermione knows the whole truth…I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”

“Harry...” Peter started, but words failed him. What could he say to that? How could anyone make sense of that kind of hurt?

Harry took another long drink from his glass, his eyes still distant. “I don’t know why I’m telling you guys this. It’s not like I need anyone’s pity. Maybe it's the whiskey,” He forced a small, bitter chuckle. “But there it is. That’s my secret.”

Wade and Peter remained silent for a moment. Then Wade, ever the emotional deflector, sighed, his voice quiet but sincere. “Damn, Harry. That... that’s rough. No wonder you’re a badass. Guess you had to be, huh?”

Harry shot him a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess so. But it’s the past. It doesn’t matter now.”

Peter finally spoke, his voice full of understanding. “You’ve been through hell, Harry. But that doesn’t mean you’re alone. None of us are.”

Harry met Peter’s eyes, the faintest glimmer of appreciation crossing his face. “Thanks, Pete. I know.”

Wade, his usual mischievous grin back in place, slapped Harry on the back. “Yeah, man. We got your back, no matter what. We’re all messed up in our own way, but we’ve got each other.”

Harry nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of his secret had lightened, just a little. The moment was still heavy, but in a strange way, it was also a kind of relief.

“Alright,” Harry said, his tone shifting back to its usual playful self, “now that we’re all in our feelings... who’s up for another round?”

Wade enthusiastically waved his hand in the air like an overexcited schoolgirl. "Me, me! Pick me, Professor Potter!"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Damn, I haven't heard that in a while."

"Ooh, you minx! Role play?" Wade waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, yes, but I was also actually a professor for years," Harry replied with a grin.

Wade gasped theatrically. "Oh no, another nerd!"

Peter smirked. "I'm glad to have another scholar in the gang."

Harry shrugged. "Nah, I really just blow shit up, wing it, and throw brute force behind my magic. But teaching was fun. Hermione is the nerd."

Wade crossed his arms, intrigued. "Alright, for my question… tell me about this Hermione. Fiance, you said?"

Harry chuckled again, shaking his head. "No, it’s a joke. She’s my best friend, basically my sister. We met when we were 11 in this magic boarding school. It was me, her, and Ron. Best friends. We went on the run together at one point, fought in the war together. Then Hermione ended up with Ron, and I ended up with Ron's sister."

Peter tilted his head. "Your wife?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, his tone slightly more somber. "We married after the war. Then it all kinda fell apart. I became a lonely alcoholic, Ron and Hermione ended up in…not a loveless marriage, they loved each other, but they had nothing in common but trauma. And Ron ended up accusing her of cheating and she left, we figured her staying with me would be temporary back then.”

"And?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry sighed, but there was a hint of a smile. "We both had nightmares from the war. Sleeping next to each other became this comfort thing. We said it would be temporary, too. But now, years and years later... it’s just our lives. But always being seen hand in hand, me carrying her home after long days…the paper naturally assumed we were together. the current story is were soon to be married.”

Peter leaned back, folding his arms. "Sounds kinda codependent."

Harry shrugged again. "Yeah, we are. It’s never been a problem. I’m a war hero and famous, so I don’t date much. Everyone only wants me for fame or money… and I hated it. Hermione’s the same. She’s an important figure in politics, and people always have ulterior motives. We had our flings, sure, but we always come home to each other. We’re immortal together, so that kinda bonded us."

"Immortal?" Peter frowned. "Is that… not a wizard thing?"

Harry laughed. "No. Wizards age slow, but immortality is just us. It’s kinda… a deal with death, you could say. Or a curse."

Wade perked up at that. "Oh! You know Death?!"

Harry nodded casually. "Yeah, we’ve met. Not a huge fan."

Peter looked between them in confusion. "Death's a person?"

Wade leaned toward Peter. "More of a construct. An entity... a being but also a belief."

"Okay..." Peter said slowly, processing.

Harry smirked. "Enough about that. Death has enough of a monopoly on my life. Next question!”

“How about a dare, take it or leave it…” Wade challenged.

Harry took a gulp of whiskey and said, “hit me!”

“Only with consent,” Wade said with an eyebrow wiggle. “My dare is to show us some of that wizard magic!”

“Only if Peter shows me some spider shit, and trust me, consent is given to all worthy men who ask,” he ended with a wink.

Peter grinned. "You're as bad as deadpool, he's a huge flirt! And sure, but only if you show us something really good. Then I’ll show you some of my ‘spider shit.'"

Harry chuckled. "Deal."

Without missing a beat, Peter shot a web across the room, the thin strand glistening in the light as it wrapped around a bottle of whiskey on the shelf. With a quick tug, he pulled it toward him, catching the bottle with ease. "Whiskey delivery. Pretty slick, right?"

Harry's eyes lit up. "Wicked!"

Harry thought for a moment, twirling his wand in his fingers. Then, with a mischievous smirk, he pointed it at Wade. "Hmmm... let's start simple."

He cast a very weak Imperius charm, just enough to have some fun. Wade’s expression shifted, his movements suddenly controlled by Harry's will. With a flick of his wrist, Harry had Wade grab a mop and begin waltzing around the room, his feet shuffling in an awkward but determined dance.

Peter burst into laughter, doubling over. "Oh man! I did not expect that!"

Harry followed suit, both of them collapsing to the floor in fits of laughter as Wade spun in circles, dramatically leading the broom like a dance partner.

Wade’s face contorted in mock grace, and he twirled the broom as if it were the love of his life. "Oh, darling," he cooed, holding the broom close. "You’ve never looked so sweeping."

Harry and Peter howled with laughter, unable to contain themselves.

With a flick of his wand, Harry finally released the spell, and Wade dropped the broom, standing up straight with a mock sense of pride. "Alright, alright," he said, brushing off imaginary dust. "You had your fun. But next time, Potter… next time it’s my turn."

Peter, still breathless from laughter, shook his head. "I don't know if I can handle whatever that is."

Harry wiped his eyes, grinning. "Bring it on, Wade. Just know, I’m always ready for round two."

The night continued with drinks in hand, laughter filling the room as they traded stories, questions, and jokes. Harry, Wade, and Peter were in full swing, their camaraderie growing by the minute until Peter’s phone buzzed with a text.

Peter glanced at the message and sighed. "It's Tony. There's a high-speed car chase nearby. He wants me to handle it."

Harry straightened up, his curiosity piqued. "A car chase, you say? Mind if I tag along?"

Peter hesitated, giving Harry a sideways look. "It’s dangerous."

Harry smirked. "I can’t die."

Wade immediately jumped in. "Yeah, come on, superhero training! With our new British sidekick! It'll be like a buddy cop movie!" He nudged Harry, who chuckled.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Can you fly or something?"

"On a broomstick,” Harry admitted, shrugging.

Peter grinned, shaking his head. "You need a costume... and a mask. Can’t have civilians recognizing you."

Without missing a beat, Harry pulled out his wand. With a few flicks, his casual clothes transformed. He was now cloaked in a dark, billowing cape, a mysterious mask covering his face, and boots that seemed made for combat. "Now can I go?" he asked with a dramatic flourish.

Peter crossed his arms, impressed despite himself. "Alright, but try to keep up and don’t get any civilians killed. That means you, Wade."

Wade dramatically gasped, placing a hand on his chest. "Me? Never!" He then leaned closer to Peter and whispered, “Okay, maybe once, but I swear that was an accident.”

Peter rolled his eyes and quickly suited up, his Spider-Man costume materializing in seconds. Wade followed suit, donning his red Deadpool gear, adjusting his mask with a flourish.

"Let’s do this!" Wade exclaimed, heading toward the window.

Peter shot a web across the room and zipped out the window, soaring into the night sky. Wade, not one to be left behind, launched himself with a leap, landing gracefully on a nearby rooftop.

Harry, grinning under his mask, used a Disillusionment Charm to blend into the shadows. He flicked his wand at a nearby mop, transfiguring it into a sleek broomstick though it wouldn't be as stable, and took out his cloak. He used a charm Hermione taught him to mold the cloak to an object and rendered the broom invisible to all but him.

Mounting it, he followed the others into the night sky, soaring after them, invisible to any onlookers, blending into the night sky.

As they raced through the city streets, the wind rushed past them. Peter led the way, zipping between buildings with ease, while Wade bounced from rooftop to rooftop. Harry hovered just behind, his broomstick gliding smoothly through the air, making sure to keep up with their speed.

"Not bad for a wizard, huh?" Harry called out, his voice carried by the wind.

"Keep up, magic man!" Peter called back with a laugh, his web attaching to a building as he swung around a corner toward the chase.

The city streets below were chaos as the car, a sleek black sedan, tore through traffic, weaving dangerously in and out of lanes with police sirens wailing in pursuit. Peter, Harry, and Wade stayed above, moving quickly across the rooftops, eyes trained on the speeding vehicle.

"There!" Peter shouted, launching himself forward with a web to swing past a building. He landed on the side of a skyscraper, parallel to the car. "I'm gonna try and slow it down!" He shot two webs toward the car’s rear bumper, yanking backward to reduce its speed.

The car jerked violently, but the driver swerved, pulling free of Peter’s webbing and barreling through an intersection.
"Damn!" Peter muttered, shooting another web to keep up.

Wade, running across the rooftops, pulled out his katanas with a grin. "Time to play bumper cars! Maximum effort!" He leapt from the roof, landing directly on the hood of the speeding car, swords raised. He slammed one blade into the metal, puncturing it.

The driver cursed, pulling a gun and firing through the windshield at Wade. But before the bullets could hit, Harry swooped down on his broomstick, wand hidden discreetly in his sleeve. "Protego!" he shouted, casting a shield charm in front of Wade, causing the bullets to ricochet harmlessly away. Harry quickly expanded the shield to cover the entire area, protecting the civilians nearby.

"Nice timing, Magic Man!" Wade called out with a wink, flipping off the car and rolling to his feet on the street.

The car swerved wildly as Peter swung in, shooting a web that yanked the gun out of the driver’s hand. "Harry! Stop the car!" Peter yelled.

Harry flew overhead, his arm outstretched. "Immobulus!" he called, freezing the car’s engine. It sputtered and died, screeching to a halt, narrowly avoiding a crash with a nearby light pole.

As the car ground to a stop, the driver tried to flee, stumbling out of the door. But Wade was already there, tripping him with one smooth motion and zip-tying his hands with some nearby webbing Peter had left behind.

"Gotcha!" Wade grinned, standing triumphantly over the would-be criminal.

Before they could react, two more guys leaped out of the back of the car and took off in different directions.

“I got left!” Peter shouted, swinging after one of the runners.

"Right it is, then!" Harry nodded, flying after the second man who sprinted through the alleyway.

Peter quickly closed in on his target, firing webs to tangle the man’s feet. Just as the thug turned to fire his own weapon, Peter dodged, zipping behind him to wrap him in webbing, pinning him to the wall. "And that's a wrap!" Peter quipped, landing beside the immobilized man.

Meanwhile, Harry soared after the other runner, who, in a desperate move, turned and fired a shot. The bullet hit Harry in the shoulder, but he didn’t even flinch. Unfazed, he continued his pursuit, wand ready.

The thug, now cornered, aimed his gun at the crowd instead, a look of panic in his eyes. "Don’t!" he warned, but Harry was faster.

"Protego Maxima!" Harry cast the shield, blocking the bullets from hitting anyone. Civilians gasped as they watched the magic deflect the shots.

Seeing no way out, the man pulled a knife and charged at Harry, but with a smooth twist of his wand, Harry disarmed him. He grabbed the thug’s wrist, bending it until the knife clattered to the ground. "Not today," Harry muttered.

With a flick of his wand, Harry cast a Featherlight Charm on the thug and easily tossed him across the street, where he landed perfectly in one of Peter’s webs. "Thanks for the assist, Pete!" Harry called out.

Wade, having secured the driver, clapped his hands. "Bravo! That’s some real wizardry right there." He chuckled, kicking aside some debris. "Now, where’s the nearest taco stand? This calls for a victory snack!"

As the police arrived to apprehend the criminals, Peter waved them off, "We’ve got it under control. All yours now."

Harry, shrinking his broom and placing it in his pocket, turned to the crowd. He lowered the magical barrier with a wave of his wand, allowing the trapped bullets and shrapnel to fall harmlessly to the ground. "Everyone okay?" he asked, offering a reassuring smile.

The bystanders nodded, grateful for the heroes’ efforts. The mother with her child gave Harry a tearful nod of thanks, too stunned to speak.

With the situation under control, the three of them regrouped on a nearby rooftop, adrenaline pumping and breath heavy. Peter collapsed onto the gravel, laughing between deep breaths. "That... was insane!"

Wade, still catching his breath, nodded, grinning from ear to ear under his mask. "Damn, that was a rush. British boy, you sure you’ve never done this before?"

Harry, wiping sweat from his brow, chuckled. "Not exactly like this, no. But I’ve had my fair share of dangerous situations. This... wasn’t too bad."

Peter grinned, rolling onto his back. "You deflected bullets like it was nothing! That shield trick was impressive! Those people would have been hit if it was just me and Wade.”

Harry smirked, catching his breath. "Well, I didn’t want your first civilian casualties to be on my watch."

Wade winked. "Aww, our little wizard cares!"

Peter laughed again, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, so you handled yourself pretty well. But let’s make one thing clear—you’re not getting the cape next time. Extremely dangerous and meaningless!”

Harry grinned under his mask, the wind ruffling his cloak. "Fine, but I’m keeping the boots."

As they rested on the rooftop, still catching their breath from the chase, Peter sat up, glancing at his phone. "You know, by morning, the paper will have pictures all over. They'll wanna know who you are."

Harry groaned, rubbing his temples. "No! I stayed disillusioned most of the time, and used wandless magic for everything. Even kept my broom invisible to avoid upsetting whatever magical government controls America. No one should have seen me. If they did, they probably just saw some dude floating around. I'm sure the headlines will just be about Spider Man.”.

Wade snickered, adjusting his mask. "Oh, trust me, someone got pictures. You just looked like some flying hero in a cape and mask. Classic superhero stuff. So...what’s your superhero name gonna be?"

Harry blinked, pausing as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. "Oh, I guess I could have a secret identity, couldn’t I? Then, without the mask, I’m just Harry! That’s brilliant!" His face lit up with realization. "I won’t be famous here like I am back home!"

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe we should go with something like... Magic Boy."

Harry scoffed, crossing his arms. "I'm not a boy."

Wade, grinning mischievously, chimed in. "What about 'Marvelous Man'?"

Harry cringed. "Ugh, no. Lame."

They began tossing names back and forth, their banter growing more ridiculous with every suggestion.

"Wizard Guy!" Wade called out.

"Warlock Warrior!" Peter added, laughing.

"Dark Cape of Doom!" Wade doubled over, clearly enjoying himself.

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Please, stop. I’ll be an international laughingstock at this rate."

After a moment of playful arguing, Harry suddenly perked up. "The Hallow Man."

Peter and Wade glanced at each other. "What, like Halloween?"

Harry shook his head with a smirk. "No. It’s... a reference. I’m the master of the Deathly Hallows. But, uh, that’s not something I need to explain right now." He waved off their curious looks. "Trust me, it’s a cool name."

Wade shrugged. "Alright, Hallow Man it is! Has a nice ring to it."

Peter nodded in agreement. "Works for me."

"Besides," Peter added, leaning back on his hands, "if you get noticed enough, Tony will probably reach out to you about joining the Avengers."

Harry scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Not likely." He looked out at the city, still getting used to the idea of being seen as a superhero. "I don’t think I’m cut out for all that...team stuff."

Wade grinned. "Oh, come on, Hallow Man. Think of the perks. Fancy suit, cool tech, maybe even a jet."

Harry shook his head, chuckling. "I’ll pass on the tech, I don't even know how to work the telly. But hey, I’ll keep the name... just in case." He gave them a wink before turning back to the skyline, wondering what strange adventures were to come with his new allies.

Harry pulls out his flask and takes a swig, relaxing further.

"Hey, mind if I...?" Wade asks, trailing off as Harry hands it over. He pauses mid-gulp, blinking in confusion as the liquid keeps flowing. "Wait, how much does this thing hold?"

Harry grins. "It’s spelled to be basically bottomless. It's connected to a still back home where I make my own brand of whiskey," Harry explains, leaning against the rooftop ledge. "The stills run themselves. I sell the stuff under an alias, but I keep like one percent of every batch for myself. I’ve got this whole system set up—some flasks and bottles I give to friends, and then, of course, my personal stash."

Wade takes another hearty gulp, clearly impressed. "Wait, so... how much of this whiskey do you actually have?"

"Literally hundreds of thousands of gallons," Harry says casually. "And it replenishes itself. So no matter what we drink, it never runs out."

Wade's eyes widen with a newfound respect. "You, my friend, are a goddamn genius," he says, finishing another drink before reluctantly passing the flask back. "You’re like a booze wizard."

Harry chuckles, pocketing the flask. "Something like that."

Peter, overhearing, shakes his head with a grin. "You're definitely the most prepared superhero I've ever met. Forget magic—you’ve got bottomless whiskey. You might just end up the most popular guy in town."

"At least until the press gets wind of me," Harry adds, groaning at the thought. “They always have a way of twisting the story and making me the bad guy.”

Wade claps Harry on the back. "Don’t worry, Hallow Man, you'll just be the world's most mysterious drunk superhero."

Harry laughs heartily at Wade's enthusiasm, still leaning against the rooftop as Peter, with a curious expression, asks, "You mentioned people wanting to be with you for the fame or the money—was the whiskey business what you meant?"

Harry shakes his head, looking a bit sheepish. "Oh, no. The whiskey's just one small piece of it. I own… what, maybe three dozen companies right now? I acquire more all the time, sell some off." He waves his hand nonchalantly, as if discussing something as simple as sorting through his closet. "Making money is honestly easy when you already have it. You buy a company that's failing, break it apart, sell the pieces, and make a profit. Then turn around, buy a decent one, throw some money at it, make it successful, and voilà—more profit. Either keep it for the passive income or sell it. And sometimes I just start companies. Like the whiskey one? It started as a hobby. Once it's a business, I get bored and hand it off to someone else."

Peter shakes his head, clearly impressed. "Damn, man, you sound like Tony."

Harry chuckles, his smile widening. "Yeah, most rich guys sound the same when we talk about money. When you have it, you see it as a commodity because it is. When you don't, it's a resource. Same, but different perspectives."

Wade grins and adds, "I made good money as a merc, but since I've gone legit superhero, income's taken a nosedive. Turns out superhero gigs don't pay much—or at all."

Peter laughs lightly. "I'm just a student at university, and a superhero, so I work at the paper for money. But it's not much."

"Shit, that's rough," Harry says, frowning. "Does the paper job even cover tuition?"

Peter shrugs. "No, but Tony's got me on a scholarship. I work in his lab to pay it off."

Harry leans forward, raising an eyebrow. "That sounds like a full-time job in itself. You managing to sleep at all?"

Wade chimes in, "He rarely does. Kid's always on the go."

Harry shakes his head in disbelief. "That's dangerous, Peter."

Peter nods with a resigned smile. "Yeah, I know, but I have to do it all. I need the paper for the money, I need the university for the degree, I can't stop being a superhero, and I need the scholarship for school."

Wade sighs dramatically, throwing his arms up. "Wish I could help you, baby boy, but all my finances are tied up in guns and ammo right now."

Harry looks over, eyes narrowing. "You need money, Peter?"

Peter quickly shakes his head. "No, no. I’m fine."

Wade smirks, leaning in toward Harry. "He’s like two months behind on rent."

Peter shoots Wade a sharp look, but Wade just shrugs, grinning. Harry, watching the exchange, sighs. "How much is your rent?"

Peter looks away. "I don’t need money, and I don’t take handouts. Tony already tried.”

Harry, undeterred, responds, "Alright then… how about this? You took me out today, showed me how to be a superhero. Let me pay you for that—consultant fees."

Peter frowns, waving it off. "No, you really don’t have to—"

Ignoring him, Harry turns to Wade. "How much is his rent?"

Wade, delighted to be involved, leans in conspiratorially. "Oh, he’s about five grand behind."

Harry blinks. "Five grand?”

Wade chuckled, “$5,000 american dollars princess, we call a thousand a grand here.”

Harry hummed and nodded, “That’s, what, about £3,800?"

Wade nods enthusiastically. "Approximately. Give or take a few bullets. Forgot you people use pounds."

Harry chuckles, then explains, "Actually, wizards use gold, silver, and bronze. But I get the gist." Without missing a beat, Harry reaches into his coat, pulling out a stack of bills. He casually counts out $6,000 and hands it to Peter.

Peter looks at the cash, eyes wide. "How do you even have that much on you? In cash, no less!"

Harry shrugs, grinning. "I travel with about a thousand galleons on me at all times. Make Hermione do it too, just in case. When I woke up here, I had around twenty-five thousand in american dollars. I figure whatever magic dropped me here converted it for me."

"You carry twenty-five thousand dollars on you?" Peter is clearly taken aback.

"Yeah, well," Harry says, scratching the back of his neck. "When you're the Savior of the Wizarding World, shops like to pull you in, show you their goods. It's shameful not to buy things then. Plus, it's always smart to have money for emergencies… like this."

Peter still hesitates, shaking his head. "I can’t take this."

Wade cuts in, voice full of mischief. "If you don’t take it, I’ll just deliver it to your landlord myself."

Peter sighs, clearly conflicted, but finally takes the money. "Alright… thanks, man. I really appreciate it."

Harry claps him on the shoulder. "Hey, it’s not charity. You’re my superhero mentor now—consultant fees, remember?"

Peter chuckles, finally giving in. "Okay, deal."

Wade stretches his arms above his head. "And since you're rich, you are buying dinner."

Harry laughs, his stomach growling on cue. "Fair enough. I’m starving. Whiskey for lunch isn’t exactly the most balanced meal. Where are we eating?"

Wade's eyes light up. "Chimichangas! There’s a place just a block away from my place."

Harry grins and, without warning, grabs both Peter and Wade. With a swift turn, the world blurs for a moment, and then they're standing near the chimichanga place.

Wade blinks in amazement. "Holy shit, we just—"

Harry smirks. "Apparated. It’s a wizard thing. Now, let’s eat."

As they walk toward the restaurant, the camaraderie between them grows, with Peter and Wade ribbing each other and Harry easily joining in on the banter. Their unlikely friendship solidifies as they head inside, already laughing at Wade’s endless excitement for chimichangas.

After dinner, they returned to Wade's place. Wade took a deep breath, stretching his arms behind his head as he looked around his apartment. “Yeah,” he said with a grin, “I kinda like the fancy life. You know, free dinners, expensive booze… fancy couches.” He gave a mock sigh of contentment.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “This? Fancy? Nah, mate, this is homey.” He glanced around with a slight smirk. “Fancy is bleh. Draco’s mansion, now that’s fancy. His wife, Astoria, she’s got what he calls, aristocratic taste. Everything’s crystal bowls you can't touch on pedestals you can't lean on, and if you get so much as a speck of dirt on her fancy carpets, she goes absolutely bananas.”

Peter laughed, leaning back into the couch. “I can’t imagine living like that.”

“It’s...exhausting,” Harry said with a playful eye roll. “Like being in a museum.”

They settled into the comfortable quiet of Wade’s apartment. After a moment, Harry broke the silence. “Any word on Hermione?”

Peter shifted, sitting up a bit more. “Tony managed to track down her parents. They’re alright, but… Hermione herself? Her digital footprint’s basically nonexistent. It’s like she vanished when she was 11 and never resurfaced. He tried facial recognition to find her but it failed every time. Its weird, he found her a few time on video around London and such but her face was just different enough that facial resignation failed.”

Harry nodded, his expression unsurprised. “Not surprised. We go to boarding school at 11. And the Wizarding World is surprisingly off the grid. And we use glamours, and we have been for over a decade, you start forgetting exactly what you looked like so they're always just a tad different.”

Wade, sitting with one leg thrown over the armrest, chimed in. “I got some feelers out, y’know, but no word yet. Worlds a big place. I got word of a weird sighting of a brunette in New York but no real intel yet.”

Peter added, “Not all the Avengers are around right now, just Tony and Bruce. But there’s a meeting on Monday. I’ll be able to ask Steve, Natasha, and Clint if they’ve seen or heard anything.”

Harry nodded, but his face fell as he slumped back into the cushions, worry evident in his eyes. “Alright…” he muttered.

Wade, sensing the tension, leaned forward, trying to offer some light-hearted reassurance. “Hey, she’s a pretty girl with 25,000 bucks on her, with superpowers, no less. She’s probably doing just fine.”

Peter nodded, trying to be optimistic. “Yeah, and she can’t die, so she’s definitely alive. That’s a plus.”

Harry gave a weak smile but shook his head. “Yeah… but we don’t sleep well when we’re apart. We haven’t been separated for this long in years.” His voice grew quieter, more reflective. “She’s not some weak little girl. We were captured by snatchers when we were 17, and she was tortured for information about me.” He rubbed his hands together, eyes distant as he remembered. “They used this spell, Cruciatus, it makes your nerve endings scream like you’re in the most excruciating pain imaginable. But it doesn’t harm you, so you don’t pass out and you can’t go numb. It just…it hurts. And you can't get used to it or adapt, you can't tune it out. its literally called the torture curse.”

Wade’s face, usually grinning or making some smart remark, softened with an uncharacteristic seriousness. He didn’t interrupt.

“She was held under that for who knows how long. We had to listen, trapped, and we couldn’t do anything to help her. And when a chandelier fell, she had broken glass in her skin. She even had words carved into her arm.” Harry paused, his jaw tightening at the memory. “But through all of that, she never said a single word about where I was. She fought in that war right alongside me and survived when fully grown wizards died. She’s the toughest, strongest person I’ve ever known.”

Peter and Wade stayed silent, letting Harry talk, the weight of his words filling the room.

“And she’s so damn smart,” Harry continued, a faint smile returning to his lips. “She absorbs books like air, reading constantly. If there’s a problem, she solves it. I know she’s okay… but she’s like my sister, you know? It’s my job to protect her.”

Peter shifted closer, his voice gentle. “You’ve done a good job, Harry. You two have been through a lot, but she’s still out there because of how strong she is.”

Harry looked at the floor, nodding. “After the war, everyone moved on, but we really couldn’t. I think it’s part of… death’s curse. We don’t age. We don’t grow. We’re still the same kids. I'm stuck in the moment I stood against Voldemort and killed him. She’s stuck somewhere else... So, we just stayed together. We protect each other.”

He chuckled a little, but the sadness was still there. “After a bad day, we’d meet at a pub, she’d vent, and I’d hold her, make her laugh, and everything would be okay again. After a rough night, I’d drink too much, and she’d give me sober-up potions and make me talk until I felt better.” He looked up at Wade and Peter, a bittersweet smile on his face. “We’re basically twins from different wombs. We’re only apart for a few hours at a time… this is the longest we’ve been separated in over a decade!”

Peter placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We’ll find her. Tony’s on it, and we’re all looking. She’s tough, like you said. She’ll be okay.”

Wade gave a small, supportive nod, still uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah, man. We got this. You’re not alone in this.”

Harry took a deep breath, letting the comfort of their words settle in, though the worry still gnawed at him. He wasn’t alone in this—he had his friends now—but until Hermione was back, a piece of him would always feel missing.

Harry suddenly chuckled, interrupting the quiet atmosphere. Wade raised an eyebrow, and Peter tilted his head. “What’s funny, Harry?” Peter asked, curious.

Harry waved his hand, shaking his head. “It’s nothing, really.”

“No, come on, mate, spill it,” Peter insisted with a grin. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Harry sighed, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, fine. It’s just... when I went to boarding school, I met Ron and Hermione. People used to call us the ‘Golden Trio.’” He paused for a moment, then continued, “But when Ron left, it was just me and Hermione. The papers loved to run that story over and over. They couldn’t stop talking about how the ‘Golden Trio’ had turned into a duo. They say it's why I had the accident and stopped working in magical law enforcement.”

Peter’s brows furrowed as he listened. “Wait, what happened?”

Harry leaned back against the couch, looking a little more somber now. “On my last mission, I got captured—thanks to Ron, no less—and tortured pretty badly. I reported everything but it ended up my word against his and the aurors backed him, and of course the government backed the Savior of the world. So he was set to go to prison, but prisons in our world are…about 1000 worse than this one. And his mum begged me to recant my story so I did. It caused a lot of shit so I left the Auror department all together. I couldn't trust the others not to get me killed just because ron hated me.”

“You saved him and he was still a jerk?” Peter asked.

Harry scoffed, “he's always been fickle. He's jealous of my money and fame, but i'd trade it all for family. His mum was good to me for a long time so yeah, I helped him. Not that he cared. Paper made me sound incompetent for it all. It wasn’t even my fault, you know? The papers made it sound like I was completely incompetent without Ron and Hermione, like I couldn’t fight the bad guys unless we were together as a trio.”

Wade shook his head. “Sounds like a load of crap.”

“It was bollocks,” Harry agreed. “But people believed it. The narrative got so big that my boss tried hiring me back and just insisted I have two partners instead of one. As if having two people who hated me glued to me would magically keep me alive.” He gave a short laugh, though it lacked any real humor. “I was the best damn Auror they had, but the press turned it into this thing—this idea that I needed two people by my side to be invincible, and without them, I was weak.”

Peter glanced at Wade, then back at Harry. “That’s ridiculous. You’re strong with or without a trio.”

Harry smiled, though there was still a hint of bitterness in his voice. “I know that. But the world doesn’t always see things the way they are. They see the story that’s told, not the truth.” He gestured to the three of them, lounging on the couch after a fight. “And now here I am, sitting in a trio again. We just fought bad guys together. It’s kind of funny, isn’t it?”

Wade smirked. “Well, we are pretty damn awesome.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, but you don’t need a trio, Harry. You’re still you, with or without us. We just make it more fun.”

Harry grinned, feeling a bit lighter. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

Wade stretched out on the couch, leaning back lazily as he asked, “So, Harry, do you think when we find Hermione, she’s gonna join us in the whole superhero gig?”

Harry chuckled softly and shook his head. “No way. Hermione’s turned her attention to politics these days. She’s trying to make a difference through that, but... there’s not much hope.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Why not?”

Harry sighed and sat up a little, turning to face them both. “In Wizarding Europe, we have something called the Wizengamot. It’s a combination of a court and a parliamentary system, handling both legislative matters and serving as the highest court of law for the wizarding world. They approve laws, bills, appoint the Minister of Magic, and they’re the judge and jury for all major cases.”

Wade nodded, listening. “So like the government, basically?”

“Pretty much,” Harry replied. “The thing is, the Wizengamot originally had 56 seats—two for each family of the Sacred 28. The Sacred 28 are the original founding pure-blood wizarding families of Britain. There’s a belief that they’re descended from Nyx herself, though there’s no real evidence to back that up. But they’re the oldest and purest lines of magic we’ve got.”

Peter’s curiosity deepened. “So, it’s like an aristocracy? They run everything?”

“Exactly,” Harry said. “The seats were designed to be held by the oldest male in each family and his firstborn son. If the head of the family doesn’t have a son, then it goes to the next two oldest males, and if there aren’t any males of age, it’s passed to the oldest female. It’s all about inheritance—so you can see how a muggle-born or first-generation wizard would have no shot of getting a seat on the council. It’s all controlled by these ancient pure-blood families.”

“Damn,” Wade muttered, shaking his head. “That sounds messed up.”

“It is,” Harry agreed. “The Sacred 28 don’t ever change the status quo. And there arent even 56 living members so its more like 37 at the meetings voting. They don’t vote for anything new, and there’s no way to make them. It’s all about keeping their old ways and traditions alive. So, Hermione’s been writing these brilliant bills and proposals to try and make changes,” Harry continued, his tone a mixture of admiration and frustration. “But none of it ever gets passed. It’s like she’s shouting at a brick wall, hoping it’ll somehow move. The Wizengamot just shuts everything down. They’re stuck in their ways, and they have no intention of changing things, especially not for muggle-borns or anyone they see as a threat to their power. And there's literally no way to convince them or make change without their approval. My friends are some of their kids, but since they're friends of mine and Hermione and push her bills…most of the families are trying to have more kids to pass their legacy to and prevent them from their inheritance. It's such bollocks.”

Peter leaned back, looking thoughtful. “So, she’s fighting a losing battle?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “But she keeps at it. She’s stubborn like that. Even when she knows the odds are against her, she doesn’t give up. She’s trying to push for reforms, for rights for muggle-borns, magical creatures, and anyone else the system’s been keeping down for centuries. It’s the same brilliance she used in school, just now applied to politics.”

Wade shook his head, letting out a low whistle. “Sounds like a tough gig. No wonder she’s not gonna be out here playing superhero with us.”

“She probably could be,” Harry admitted, “but she’s too focused on trying to fix things from the inside. That’s always been Hermione—fixing problems from the root. She doesn’t want to just fight the symptoms, she wants to cure the disease. And for her, that means dismantling centuries of discrimination and oppression.”

Peter crossed his arms. “It’s kind of sad that all her efforts aren’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry agreed. “But that’s who she is. She believes in change, even when it seems impossible.”

Wade scratched his chin, leaning forward. “So, no superhero Hermione, huh? Just the badass politician?”

Harry smiled softly, a mixture of pride and melancholy in his expression. “That’s right. And honestly, I think that makes her even stronger. Fighting with magic, with wands—that’s one thing. But fighting a system that’s been rigged against you from the start, knowing the odds, knowing that every step forward might get knocked back ten steps… that takes a different kind of strength. And she’s got it in spades.”

Peter looked over at Harry. “You miss her, don’t you?”

Harry’s smile faded slightly as he nodded. “Yeah, I do. We’ve been through so much together. I almost don't remember how to exist without her…”

Wade, usually quick with a joke, stayed uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, then finally said, “Don’t worry, man. We’ll find her. And whether she’s in the superhero game or tearing down political walls, she’ll be okay. She’s tougher than most people could ever dream of.”

Harry nodded, though the worry in his eyes didn’t fully disappear. “I know. I just hope she’s safe.”

Peter leaned forward, his voice filled with determination. “We’ll get her back, Harry. No matter what it takes.”

And for a moment, the room fell into a calm silence, the three of them united in a shared purpose—to bring Hermione home, wherever she was.

The rest of the evening unfolded in a cozy, comfortable rhythm. Peter, with excited enthusiasm, introduced Harry to his favorite movies, showing off his deep love for pop culture. Every so often, Wade would interrupt with snarky commentary or add one of his own favorite picks to the list, making the night full of laughter and banter. They traded jokes and stories as the hours slipped by, creating a sense of ease that Harry hadn’t felt in a long time.

When it got late, Harry awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat. "I, uh, can transfigure a bed in the living room for myself, so Wade can have his back, and Peter, you can head home if you want."

Wade looked over at Harry with a smirk and shook his head. "You have trouble sleeping alone, don't you?" he asked, teasing but with a tinge of genuine curiosity.

Harry glanced down, shifting uncomfortably. "Yeah, but I'm not gonna make you guys sleep beside me. That'd be... weird."

Wade rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Who said anyone was being forced? Come on, let's go get some sleep. No big deal."

Peter grinned, backing Wade up. "Yeah, man. We’ve been through worse together already. It’s just sleep."

After a bit more hesitation, Harry relented, feeling oddly comforted by their nonchalance. They took turns showering, and Harry, in typical magical fashion, used a quick spell to enlarge the bed even further to ensure everyone had their space. There was more than enough room to avoid crowding, but the atmosphere of companionship remained.

As they all finally lay down, the quiet of the room settled over them. Sleep came easily, the tension from the day fading as they drifted off, united in an unspoken bond of trust.

The morning sunlight filtered into the apartment, gently waking Harry from his peaceful sleep. Moving quietly so as not to disturb Wade and Peter, he dressed and slipped out, his mind already buzzing with plans for the day. He found a nearby Starbucks, ordered their favorites from the day before, and used a status charm to keep the drinks cold as he made his way back.

When he returned, Harry got to work in the kitchen, deciding to make breakfast again. This time, he cast a silencing charm around the kitchen so the sounds of cooking wouldn’t wake the others. The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, but the apartment remained peacefully quiet. When everything was ready, Harry cast another status charm to keep the food warm and fresh.

With breakfast taken care of, Harry turned his attention to Peter. He needed to take care of some business, but first, he needed to figure out where the kid lived. Harry gently used Legilimency to read Peter’s mind while he slept, quickly extracting the information he needed without leaving any trace of intrusion. Satisfied, he headed out, apparating to a location near Peter's place that they had passed on their earlier superhero adventure.

The building was a rundown, slum-like property that screamed neglect, and the owner wasn’t much better. Greasy, sleazy, and unapologetically unkempt, the man barely glanced at Harry when he walked in. Harry, always quick to business, asked bluntly, “What would it cost to buy this place?”

The owner looked him up and down, chuckling with disbelief. “What, you need a room, kid?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “No, I mean the whole building. How much?”

The man barked out a laugh, clearly not taking Harry seriously. “This place is worth its weight in gold. I’ve had it for over a decade—it’s not for sale.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “How much does it weigh, then?”

The man’s laugh faltered. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

The man leaned back, rubbing his chin. “Look, kid, I wouldn’t sell this place for a million bucks. It’s a cash cow, makes me thousands every month. And besides, I live here.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Alright, how about two million?”

The owner blinked, his bravado faltering further. “What?”

“I said I’ll give you two million for it. You wouldn’t sell it for a million, so let’s try two.”

The man sputtered, looking flustered, and Harry pressed on, his voice calm but firm. “I’ll go as high as three million, but frankly, this place isn’t worth one. I’m just being generous. I don’t pay more than three times a property’s worth.”

The owner looked at Harry like he had sprouted a second head. “You’d pay three million for this shithole?”

Harry nodded casually. “Yeah. Give me a few weeks to sort out the details with my bank, and I’ll get the money to you. In the meantime, don’t tell the tenants—I want them to stay, but I’ll need to relocate them temporarily while I fix the place up. You can find somewhere else to live if you want, or stay on as a tenant. Your choice.”

The man leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see the money.”

Harry grinned. “You will. My acquisition guy will be in touch.”

With that, Harry left, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He returned to Wade’s apartment, feeling good about the deal. He made himself a cup of tea, settled at the table, and began drafting a proposal to submit to Gringotts, figuring out the logistics of the purchase.

Not long after, Wade stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, followed by a grumbling Peter. “Coffee?” Peter mumbled, still half-asleep.

Harry smiled and handed him the Frappuccino he’d picked up earlier. Peter’s face lit up as he took it eagerly. “Thanks, mate.”

Wade, equally delighted, grabbed his own drink and practically pounced on the breakfast spread. “You’re a fucking genius,” Wade said through a mouthful of food, looking immensely pleased with the morning’s arrangement.

Harry just chuckled, sipping his tea and watching his newfound friends settle into the routine. Life with them wasn’t so bad after all.

The three of them sat around the small kitchen table, the smell of bacon and pancakes lingering in the air as they dug into their breakfast. Wade, as usual, was the loudest, cracking jokes in between bites.

“You know,” Wade said, winking at Harry, “if you keep making breakfast like this, you’re never gonna get rid of me.”

Harry snorted, raising an eyebrow. “I think I’ve already accepted that fate.”

Peter, sipping his coffee, chimed in with a teasing grin. “Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head, Harry. We’re just here for the food.”

Wade feigned a wounded look. “Ouch, Parker.”

“You break my heart,” Harry piled on.

Then Wade turned his attention to Harry again, grinning. “But seriously, you’re not half-bad at this domestic thing, Potter. I’m impressed.”

Harry smirked, shrugging. “I’ve had practice. Cooking helps when you have trouble sleeping.”

Peter leaned back, his eyes flicking between them, noticing the easy banter. “Seems like Wade’s just happy you’re good with your hands.”

Wade waggled his eyebrows. “Hey, I’m just saying, magic hands aren’t something to joke about.”

Harry shot him a playful glare. “You better watch it, or I’ll show you just how magical they can be.”

Before Wade could fire back with another quip, there was a sudden click from the door. It unlocked by itself, the sound startling in the quiet morning.

Instantly, the atmosphere shifted. Wade, in a flash, had both his guns drawn, aimed squarely at the door. Peter moved just as fast, muscles tensed, ready to strike. Harry’s hand shot to his wand, pulling it out with practiced ease, pointing directly at the door as it was thrown open.

Before Peter or Harry could react, Wade had already squeezed off six shots, but the bullets clattered uselessly to the ground as the intruder waved an arm, deflecting them with ease. The figure moved with a determined grace, charging in like a whirlwind. Harry's eyes widened in shock as he finally recognized the familiar form.

Peter shot out webs toward her but she dodged effortlessly, almost dancing out of the way, her wand flicking as she cast Immobulus at both Peter and Wade, freezing them in place. Her eyes burned with a mix of fury and relief, her usual calm composure completely gone. She looked like a force of nature—her chest heaving with barely contained emotion, her hands clenched at her sides, ready to strike.

She stormed in without a word, her footsteps heavy and determined and slammed the door behind her. Harry froze, staring at her, his mouth falling open as his mind raced to process the reality of her sudden appearance.

“M-Mione?!” Harry gasped, his heart leaping into his throat. He reached out instinctively, desperate to hold her, to make sure she was real. Stumbling toward her, a thousand questions racing through his mind. His heart pounded in his chest as he reached out to hug her.

But before he could reach her, Hermione's hand came down in a sharp, unforgiving slap across his face. The sound echoed in the room, and Harry staggered back, clutching his cheek, stunned.

"Hermione—what the—" he started, but she cut him off.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione’s voice was a fierce blend of anger and exasperation, her eyes blazing. "Do you have any what you’ve put me through?!"