“Hey, Bright Eyes…”
Saturday, November 3
Harry liked Saturdays.
There was no school, no tutoring, no therapy.
Sundays meant dinner with Tony, Sirius, Pietro, Bruce, and sometimes Rhodey or Pepper if they were in town.
But Saturdays? Saturdays meant Harry could do anything he wanted, really.
Harry used to spend Saturday with Peter; playing video games or skating, sometimes working on homework or just talking. Now though, Harry tended to spend his Saturday mornings by practicing magic, wanting to do more without a wand as Strange thought he could.
After breakfast, Harry sat on the sitting room floor with his legs crossed while he practiced and his dad sat on the recliner with a computer, working.
The rhythmic tapping of Tony doing whatever it was he was doing was a soothing background noise, one that Harry used to clear his mind.
Focus on the tapping, clear your mind.
Tap… tap… tap…
Ding!
Harry ignored his phone and focused on the tapping…
Tap… tap… tap…
Ding!
“Damn it,” Harry muttered. He opened his eyes and turned around to grab his phone off the coffee table.
Friendly reminder that I miss you, I’m sorry, and can we talk?
Hey kiddo, want to see if your broom is faster than Pietro? He needs something to distract himself.
Harry deleted the first text from Peter and sent Sirius back a thumbs up and a middle finger for good measure.
Sirius was the best, but he was also being incredibly clingy ever since Halloween when they had a minor spat and Harry left to cool off.
“I’m so sorry, kiddo. I’m so sorry.”
Sirius had been drunk and Harry was as patient as he could be considering it wasn’t exactly a great day for him either.
“Siri, I don’t blame you and I’m sure neither do they,” Harry said, awkwardly patting Sirius on the back.
Sirius had looked up at Harry and his eyes were bleary and wet. “I should have been the secret keeper.”
“No, what you should have done is told Hagrid to piss off and not go after Pettigrew,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes. “If you’d been secret keeper then they would have killed you.”
“Dying would have hurt less,” Sirius said before breaking into embarrassingly loud sobs.
“Thanks, Siri, that makes me feel great,” Harry scowled. He knew Sirius was drunk, but he was also a prat sometimes and needed more therapy than Harry ever had.
Harry looked around at the others that were there keeping Sirius company until he caught Pietro giving them a curious look.
“Mate, you’re on Sirius watch,” Harry told him. “I- I need some bloody air.”
“Geek boy or the dogfather?” Tony asked Harry distractedly, his eyes focused on the screens he had floating in the air and the one on his lap.
“Both,” Harry said. He switched his phone on silent and then turned back to the crisscrossed pose he and Strange used during their sessions.
Harry breathed deeply and slowly, finding it much easier to focus on the single task than it used to be. All he had to do was listen to Tony tapping on his screens and let all his other thoughts drift away…
Tap… tap… tap…
Another inhale, exhale.
Harry turned his hands over on his knees, facing his palms upward.
Tap… tap… tap…
Lumos.
Harry willed himself to stay perfectly calm and focused on holding light in his hands before peeking his eyes open and seeing the golden lights radiating from his palms.
“Dad, hurry, can you take a picture?” Harry asked calmly, needing photo evidence to show off send to Hermione.
Tony looked over at Harry and snagged his phone off the armrest and went to take a photo—
“Wait!” Harry closed his eyes and made himself look as calm and peaceful as he could. “Okay, now.”
“You know, I thought magic would be used for more than just becoming a human flashlight, but it’s a handy tool to have,” Tony quipped after he took the photo for Harry.
“I’m going to try something else now,” Harry said eagerly. He turned around so he was facing the coffee table and willed the lights to disappear.
Inhale, hold it, exhale.
Tap… tap… tap…
All his other thoughts drifting away.
Harry kept his eyes open and focused on his phone.
“Wingardium leviosa,” Harry whispered.
When his phone began rising up in the air, Harry jumped up and threw a fist high with a crow of victory.
“Take that, Hermione!” he yelled, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet. “Who needs a bloody wand now? Not me!”
Hermione was going to lose her mind with jealousy and Harry couldn’t wait. Strange was a genius.
“You should give Strange a raise,” Harry told Tony after he pocketed his phone.
“Are you learning magic to learn magic or spite Hermione?” Tony asked as he swiped away some of his screens.
Harry considered it carefully. “Both,” he said. He grinned before flopping down on the couch. “You’ve got no idea how much work it is to do magic without a wand. I’ve only ever known Dumbledore to do it and even he mostly uses a wand.”
If Harry could get good, really good, then he could be in a duel and being disarmed would mean nothing.
“Bow to your death, Harry.”
And Harry could just shoot a spell from the tip of his fingers.
“Go fuck yourself, Tom.”
Harry must have been smiling, because Tony laughed quietly.
“Good daydream?” he asked.
Harry nodded, “The best. Oi, Sirius and Pietro want to go race…”
There was a flash of something in Tony’s expression before it disappeared and he looked entirely relaxed.
“With your broom?” Tony asked.
“Yeah,” Harry said. He hesitated, unsure if he should ask or not… Tony was a busy bloke, working constantly, but also…
“Do you- er… would you want to come?” Harry asked awkwardly. “I just thought my Firebolt could probably outrace you and if we’re going anyway…”
Tony perked up and was beaming so quickly that Harry wondered if he’d wanted to be invited from the start.
“My suit against your broom?” Tony closed the computer and made his hologram screens all disappear with a lazy wave of his hand. “Oh, kid, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Harry scoffed, entirely confident in his broom.
“THIS IS BULLSHIT!” Harry yelled a couple of hours later.
Happy drove Harry, Joey, Sirius, and Pietro to a place outside of the city. Tony met them there with his suit on and Harry brought his Firebolt and Invisibility Cloak.
And then he immediately got his arse kicked by Pietro and Tony both.
“How are you so bloody fast?” Harry asked Pietro after landing and ripping his cloak off irritably.
Pietro leaned against a tree, a spark of his old mischief in his eyes, and buffed his nails on his jacket. “Perhaps you should have been HYDRA experiment number 728, then you would have more than a flying broomstick to race with.”
At that, Harry looked around subtly, making sure nobody was close enough to hear them. Happy was in the car with a hat pulled over his face, probably asleep. Sirius was… Harry squinted up at the sky… riding on Tony’s back while Tony flew circles around the little forest area they’d been flying and running around.
“How come you’re… normal?” Harry asked Pietro, drifting closer to him.
Pietro quirked an eyebrow up, smirking at Harry. “You did just see me run, yes?”
Harry waved his hand, brushing off Pietro’s ability. “I mean you’re not fucking insane,” he said bluntly, mentally apologizing to Bucky as he said it. “Hydra experimented on you and you still seem normal.”
“As opposed to the Winter Soldier?” Pietro drawled slowly, grinning when Harry looked surprised. “Did you believe that Sirius was searching for your assassin stalker unassisted?”
“Frankly, I figured the two of you spend more time drunk than productive,” Harry said rudely. “So if I was the Winter Soldier, I’d feel pretty good about my odds.”
“Would you?” Pietro hummed with a sly look that made Harry uneasy. “Even though he must be, how did you say it? ‘Fucking insane’?”
Harry snapped his mouth shut when he heard Tony landing, hoping Pietro wasn’t about to be a narc.
“I had someone to keep me sane,” Pietro murmured with a forlorn expression. “Your soldier did not.”
If all Bucky needed was someone around to help him get his head cleared out, then Harry could be that person. If Harry hadn’t had Sirius last summer, he probably would have gone mad. In fact, if Harry hadn’t had Sirius for the last couple of years, he would have went crazy.
Something to keep in mind next time Harry was annoyed with his godfather anyway.
“Sorry, kid, better luck next time,” Tony called after landing. He dropped his face shield and flew a couple inches off the ground over to where Harry and Pietro were while Sirius still clung to his back with a goofy smile.
Or, Sirius had been smiling, until Tony shook him off and dropped him in the dirt. Then Joey jumped on Sirius and Sirius quickly transformed into Padfoot and began chasing Joey around, barking their heads off.
As much as Harry often felt like he was the parent and Sirius was the irresponsible teen, it was still nice to see Sirius laughing and seeming so openly happy.
“Next time we race I’ll steal your suit,” Harry told his dad, eyeing the iron man costume thoughtfully.
“No can do, kid,” Tony grinned. He pressed a button on his wrist and Harry watched as the metal all folded inside itself until the huge, heavy, bulky suit was nothing more than a black briefcase Tony held in his hand. Tony tapped his chest where there was a faint glow visible through his tshirt. “This one only runs off this baby, the suit without it is nothing more than expensive scrap metal.”
“So what does that make you without the suit?” Pietro asked.
“Uh… a father, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” Tony smirked and Harry laughed at his quick response. “What are you without feet?”
“Still rather handsome, I think,” Peitro said without missing a beat. He looked past Harry to where Sirius was still chasing Joey. “Right, любимый?”
Tony coughed quickly, hiding a laugh it seemed like, and Harry narrowed his eyes at Pietro.
“What’d you just call him?” Harry asked sharply. Nobody was going to insult Sirius right in front of Harry.
Padfoot came running up to them on four legs before quickly transforming back to himself. “Nothing,” he said hastily. “Mates, I’m starving. Anyone fancy lunch?”
“I’ll buy,” Tony offered just as quickly. He tossed his free arm around Harry’s shoulder, an unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcome gesture. “What sounds good, kid?”
Harry shrugged. “Pietro can pick, he won.”
“La Hacienda,” Pietro said promptly. “The one on 146th is the only authentic restaurant in New York.”
“What would you know about authentic Mexican food?” Tony asked while they made their way back to the car. “You grew up in a cage.”
Harry listened while Tony, Pietro, and Sirius argued over ‘authentic’ meals the whole drive back to the city. It wasn’t until they began debating on the best sushi place that Harry checked his phone and saw that he had three new texts.
I am sick of you both texting me. Until further notice, I’m not speaking to either of you idiots until you figure your shit out. XOXO, Gwen.
Rude.
HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!?!?! HARRY JAMES CALL ME IMMEDIATELY!!
Harry knew Hermione would be jealous. He was probably lucky he didn’t have a dozen missed calls from her. Harry text her back quickly before just that happened.
Maybe I’ll show you over break. Tony said he’ll send the jet. Miss you.
The third was from an expected, if annoying, contact.
Call me, we need to talk.
Harry frowned. That actually was a bit shorter than Peter usually was.
Can’t talk, what do you want?
Your friend is hurt.
Harry’s insides immediately turned to ice. He only knew of one friend of his that Peter could be talking about.
B?
Yeah. It’s bad.
Fuck… fuck… fuck…
“You okay, kiddo? You look like you’re about to be sick,” Sirius said, interrupting Harry’s sudden panic.
Harry looked up and saw that Sirius and Pietro were both giving him concerned frowns, one Harry was sure would be mirrored on Tony’s face if he looked over at him.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “Er… actually, no. I feel sick,” he said, partially truthful. He did feel sick, but it wasn’t anything physical. “Do you think I can skip lunch? You guys can just drop me off at home.”
“What’s wrong?” Tony asked quickly. He put the back of his hand on Harry’s forehead and Harry twisted away from it.
“Stomach ache,” Harry lied. He bent over in his seat, putting his head between his knees. “Maybe our milk went bad,” he said, inventing a quick excuse.
“You might be car sick,” Sirius said sympathetically. He reached over and put his hand on Harry’s head, scratching his scalp affectionately. “I’ve got anti nausea potions in my place.”
“Thanks,” Harry groaned, laying it on a bit thick.
“Don’t puke in here,” Happy called from the drivers seat. “Puke is a bitch to get out of the upholstery.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry said drily. He held his phone down by his feet so he could glance at the screen and send Peter a quick text back.
If you can move him, take him to the old bakery down the street from my place. I’ll be there soon.
How Bucky could have gotten himself gravely injured in the short time it had been since Harry saw him, Harry had no idea. But it seemed like befriending a crazy assassin who had a $500,000 tag on his head was a bit more complicated than Harry had foreseen.
When Happy pulled up to the tower, Harry expected to be the only one to get out.
“What are you doing?” he asked his dad when Tony climbed out after him.
Tony pinched his brows together. “Uh… isn’t playing nurse one of those things parents do when their kid is sick?”
“No idea,” Harry snapped, “I never had them before.”
Harry felt a small bit of guilt break through his panic and worry when Tony’s face fell some, but Tony rallied quickly.
“You do now,” he said brightly. “Come on, let’s go find those magic potions and see if they work any.”
Harry tried to think of how to make a quick escape the whole way up to Sirius’ flat. He’d rather do it in a way that didn’t hurt Tony’s feelings, since he was a bit more sensitive than Harry used to think he was, but he’d rather make his dad sad for a little while than let Bucky die.
Preferably neither would happen if Harry could help it.
“Where do you think Sirius stores his potions?” Tony asked when they stepped off the lift together, Joey following behind them.
“The bathroom,” Harry lied. “Or the kitchen. Somewhere high and dry. I’m going to grab my jacket I left here the other night.”
“Sounds good,” Tony said cheerfully. As soon as he set off to the kitchen, Harry went in Sirius’ room and opened his top dresser drawer to go through his potions.
Blood replenisher… Pepper-up… Skele-gro… Anti-nausea… Pain reliever…
Harry quickly and quietly grabbed a couple of each type of potion that he thought might help Bucky and stuffed them in one of Sirius’ bags and added his cloak to it before tossing his broom on Sirius’ bed.
“Found them,” Harry called. He grabbed an empty vial and tipped it backward as he opened the door. “Ugh, disgusting,” he told Tony who had still been digging in the kitchen cabinets.
“Who keeps medicine in their bedroom?” Tony scoffed.
“People who have a lot of guests over,” Harry said flatly, staring at Tony until he understood the implication.
“Aah,” Tony finally nodded his head and grinned. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
Harry mentally crossed his fingers and hoped that Tony was a much worse lie detector than Professor Snape had always been.
“I think Sirius was right though, I was probably just car sick, I feel fine now.” Harry shrugged and put the empty vial on the tv stand. “I actually feel a bit hungry now.”
“Oh, good,” Tony said, doubling Harry’s guilt when he seemed so relieved. “Do you want to go catch up with Sirius and Happy or we could order something in and watch TV or something?”
“Actually…” Harry fidgeted and let some of his guilt shine through as he dropped his eyes to his feet. “Er… Peter wanted to get lunch and talk, I thought maybe I’d see what he had to say.”
“Oh.”
Harry didn’t have to look to know that Tony would be disappointed; he seemed to actually enjoy spending time with Harry, as odd as the notion was.
“That’s good because I have a ton of shit to work on today,” Tony said breezily. “I’m trying to figure out an efficient way to mass produce phones like yours in a cost effective way so that those other students at your old school can call home every once in a while.”
Harry’s head snapped up and his jaw dropped for a moment.
“You’re planning on selling phones for muggleborns?” he asked, shocked. Tony had no idea how much students at Hogwarts would love that. Harry had heard more than a few students complain about not having access to a phone and not being able to own an owl, since they weren’t exactly easy to maintain or common pets.
Katie Bell, a nice girl on the Gryffindor quidditch team, had been in tears once because she missed her family so much and she couldn’t send owls because they were too peculiar to be seen flying in and out of the apartment building her family lived in.
“I’m trying to,” Tony stressed, looking suddenly sheepish. He combed his fingers through his hair and Harry recognized the look in his eyes- it was Hermione’s ‘let’s go to the library’ look; except on Tony it was a ‘I need a computer and a toolbox’ look.
“The problem is as it stands, just the materials of each phone would cost nearly a grand, so if I can cut back the material costs without sacrificing the operating system…”
Harry impulsively reached out and gave Tony a quick hug. “You’re a good person,” he said, half miserable about the realization.
Tony hugged Harry back tightly before letting him go and giving Harry a crinkly eyed smile that made Harry’s guilt triple that time.
“You’re a good son,” Tony said, a bit gruff. “Go have your totally not a date with geek boy, but make him pay for himself and grovel for your attention.”
“Okay,” Harry said, backing toward the lift. He waited until the doors opened and he jumped on, quickly pressing the button for the ground floor. “Love you,” he yelled just before the doors shut.
It didn’t erase his guilt, as he lied straight to Tony’s face after swearing to himself just a few weeks ago to not do that anymore, but it did lessen it some.
As soon as Harry made it to the main doors, he began running as if his life - or Bucky’s, at least - depended on it. Since Peter never text him back, Harry had to assume they were at the bakery and if not then he’d convince Jarvis to hack Peter’s gps or something.
Harry should have found a way to track Bucky before then; it wasn’t safe to have some crazy bloke running around without a way to find him quick.
The further Harry ran, the more worried he was that Bucky was dead and that was why Peter hadn’t text him anymore…
Maybe Peter did it.
Maybe they got in a fight.
Maybe Steve found him and decided to attack.
Maybe Bucky got mug—
No, Bucky couldn’t get mugged. Bucky was more likely to be a mugger.
If Peter attacked Bucky then Harry would… would…
Harry growled while he ran. It was bloody unfair to be at such a disadvantage when it seemed like everyone Harry knew had some sort of superpower and Harry had the amazing ability to make his hands glow.
The door of the bakery was locked, but Harry had enough adrenaline running through him that he shouldered the door hard and literally fell in the room while his shoulder protested the move loudly.
“Bucky?” Harry hissed, seeing nobody in the dining room area. There was a puddle of blood by the register that made Harry’s breath catch in his throat and his heart to pound ferociously loud.
No… no… no…
Harry followed the blood trail on autopilot, his feet leading him past the counter, through the employee door, and to the kitchen without Harry commanding them to do so.
If Bucky was dead, it would be Harry’s fault. Harry thought he could help him, thought he could fix him, and left him alone with nothing more than a bag of meager supplies and promises to check on him…
Harry’s eyes followed the trail of smeared blood straight to…
“Peter?!”
Harry ran then and knelt down beside where Peter was slumped against a wall, dark red blood soaking his spider-bloke costume. Peter didn’t have his mask on and he groaned when Harry slapped him lightly, trying to make sure he was alive.
“He’s- he’s insane,” Peter gasped, his eyelids fluttering. Harry’s hands were shaking uselessly around Peter’s stomach where it looked like he’d been stabbed.
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. He pushed his hand against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding somehow. “Peter, I’m so bloody sorry.”
Harry didn’t need to wonder who hurt Peter and finding Bucky wasn’t a real priority while Peter was dying.
“Hey, Bright Eyes…” Harry looked up from the wound to Peter’s face and saw that he was smiling softly. “If I’m dying, do you think maybe you could just be my friend again?”
“Don’t die,” Harry told him immediately. “Please, please, don’t die.”
Peter couldn’t be another Cedric - a teenager dead because Harry was an idiot.
“I won’t die if you promise that later we can talk,” Peter said, a weak joke that Harry ignored.
“We have to get you to the Tower,” Harry said. He cleared his throat and tried to sound more confident and less like he was about to start sobbing. “Can you stand?”
Peter shook his head, looking much too pale, and Harry quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket, covering it in Peter’s blood. It took a moment to unlock it, as slippery as it was in wet hands, and he quickly clicked contacts, planning on calling his dad.
“Harry!”
Harry looked up at Peter and then—
Then something hard and metal struck Harry in the back of the head and everything went black.