Chapter 6
“Oh my God.” Tony groans aloud, inspecting the engine which has smoke fuming from it. “A broken car in the middle of nowhere? This is how a horror movie starts. And that means I’m the first to go, everyone knows it’s always the girl who survives. Trade lives with me?”
“Nah,” Harry shakes her head, even though this whole broken car debacle is slightly worrying. “Someone has to take one for the team, and you’re a team player at heart, so thanks Tony, for sacrificing yourself for a just cause.”
She’s under the suspicion that Tony is rubbing some of his personality off on her.
Tony huffs, placing his hands on his hips in consideration. “Please, I’m the genius of this comedic duo. I can totally fix this car in under an hour. I can even give it a fancy upgrade, probably help make the audio in the car at a louder sound volume. So, while you are brutally murdered by some creepy ghost child, I will be happily singing in the fixed car with my upgraded, annoyingly loud speakers. Ha.”
Harry considers their surroundings. It’s cold, not as cold as when they were in North Dakota last week, but still really chilly. She had thought Scotland was bad, and looking back on that, she has the urge to laugh like a fool. Not only is it cold but it is also foggy, as if something could just pop out from nowhere. So yes, Tony might actually be right about this.
Harry thinks of her wand that’s tucked safely in her bag. If something were to come out of nowhere, they would be fine, Harry would make sure of it. Still, even if one has the power to get rid of something, it doesn’t necessarily mean they want to use it. Shaking her head at where her thoughts apparently want to go, she approaches Tony, who’s still checking the engine with a sour pout on his face. It’s so wholesome Harry has the urge to hug him tight. Instead, she takes his hand and laces it with hers, loving the way he perks up at the sudden intake of warmth, and, well. Her holding his hand.
It’s a new development, something that happened two weeks ago at the movies. It was impulse that made her do it, and she hasn’t regretted a second of it. What she has regretted, is the fact that, while the hand holding is lovely and something they do every day now, nothing else has come of it.
It’s irritating.
There’s so much Harry wants to do apart from holding his hand. It’s not even supposed to be something sexual (that’s actually an entirely different matter), but every now and then she has this urge to kiss him, and-
Well, she’s a coward. How could she face her death, how could she battle Tom? And yet the idea of pecking a pair of lips is where she crosses the line? It’s incredibly frustrating. Eventually, she has to speak to get all those pesky thoughts from her mind, which is so tired of thinking of that bloody topic.
“We should walk around. See if there are any houses near by.”
Tony looks at her as if she’s insane. “Are you aware that’s how every horror movie starts? Teenagers, broken down car, no houses in sight. If a middle aged perverted looking man opens a door to an isolated house, I’m running for my life. You can tag along, I suppose.”
“I’m happy I was the priority in your escape plan.” Harry says in a monotone voice, taking his hand and dragging him along the foggy street.
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They find an isolated house in the middle of a foggy street.
“Sweet Jesus.” Tony whispers, more to himself than her, and Harry gives him a reassuring squeeze that he reciprocates for a much longer amount of time. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had. Worse than wanting to climb that mountain in Montana.”
“That was your idea.” Harry informs him.
“And now you have memory loss, this is just great.”
Harry doesn’t reply, she just rings on the doorbell. When she looks at Tony, she notices his face is dumbfounded.
“She’s insane.” Tony hisses, “That’s the plot twist of the horror movie. The main character’s friend was in on it. Oh my God it all makes sense now. All movie villains are British- this is too clever, I wish I had a phone.”
Before she can do anything, like roll her eyes, for instance, the door opens. Out of it comes out a middle-aged man.
Harry holds Tony’s hand tight to prevent him from fleeing the scene.
“Hi, we’re so sorry, our car broke down. We were wondering if we could borrow some tools to fix it? We’ll give them back, of course.” She hastily says when the man says nothing. He has grey hair and stubble, and he looks very fit for a man who seems to be around fifty.
“Molly!” He calls behind his shoulder, waiting in silence until ‘Molly’ arrives. Next to her, Tony is whispering in her ear. “I can totally make a screwdriver, it might take more than a couple of hours, but patience is a virtue.” Harry sticks her tongue out at him, which he mirrors back with a funny face, and soon it’s a tongue war, if that’s even a thing. It only stops when there’s a clearing of the throat, and they see a woman at the door. She has grey hair wrapped in a bun, wearing very conservative grey clothes that wrap delicately around her figure. The lady has a kind face and seems to appear nice enough, so Harry no longer shares part agreement that they may be in a horror movie. But unlike her Molly back home, the one who would knit her jumpers and rubbed her cheeks when it was cold, this Molly lacks the warmth in her eyes that she misses so very much. Tony's still squeezing her hand though, it grounds her considerably from the caging feeling of being homesick.
“Can I help you?” Molly asks.
“They need tools for their broken car.” The man tells her, looking at them speculatively. Harry feels as if she’s under a microscope, but it’s not too overwhelming.
The woman gasps. “Of course! We’ll give you what you need to get on the road. Oh! But the sun is setting. Why don’t you stay here for tonight? We have a spare room since our Charles went off to college. We don’t want two youngsters like yourselves alone fixing cars, or Lord forbid, driving, in the dead of night. How about we help you when the sun is up?”
Surprisingly, it’s Tony that speaks first.
“Do you have food?” Harry rolls her eyes.
“Oh yes indeed! And our daughter even baked a cake!”
Tony nods, at a decision already. He pulls Harry’s hand as they walk in the house. “Sold.”
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Harry has sat through many awkward meals in her time.
Up until now, the worst was probably meeting Cedric’s father. For a while he had seen Harry as little more than competition for Cedric, so him not liking her was understandable if not a bit rude. Conversation then had been challenging, to say the least, and Cedric had sweated profusely. Harry had discovered wine. So, looking back, yes, that was most likely the most awkward meal Harry had been through.
Until now.
They all sit on one large table, and the family stare at Harry and Tony as if they are a completely different species. Time usually goes by so quickly when she’s with Tony, and she wishes it could right now, because this is simply unbearable. Plus, she can feel Tony trying not to smugly tell Harry that they’re in a horror movie right now, and Harry really doesn’t need the reminder. Not when she sees this crystal clearly, and honestly, she’s one creepy stare away from taking her wand from her bag and going nuts on these people.
Simon (“Call me Simon, Mr Trell makes me feel my age”) breaks the ice. “So, what are your names?” A rush of victory comes over Harry whenever she’s reminded of the wordless enchantment she used to make Tony unrecognisable, though she does feel guilty for having used magic on Tony- it’s not a discussion in her mind that has ever gone over well. Before Tony can give Sarah some dreadful name (that perhaps Simon will call his future child, Harry still finds herself wanting to cackle hysterically at that thought), Harry takes charge.
“This is Ross. I’m Rachel.” She smiles, turning to Tony with a satisfied smug look on her face when she sees his shock at her pop culture reference.
Sarah, their little girl, squeals, clapping her hands together. “Like in Friends!”
“I know! How weird is that!”
“Oh yeah? What’s Friends about, Rachel?”
Harry looks at Tony as if he’s asinine. “Friends, Ross.”
Molly bounces in the room, balancing a plate loaded with a whole chicken while beaming and looking a tad boastful at her success. She places it on the table and eyes in Harry. “Ladies first!”
“Oh, no,” Harry assures her. “Serve yourself first, please. It’s the least I can offer, you’ve been so good to us.”
Molly tuts, peering at her disapprovingly. “The guests will be served first. Anything else would be impolite.”
Before things can really deteriorate, Tony steps in. “Okay then, serve me up. Rachel and I haven’t eaten all day, we could eat a horse. Is this horse? I mean, it looks like chicken, but no shame in eating a horse. In China they eat dogs, which is inhumane- unless this is dog?”
Discretely, Harry taps Tony’s legs. She hates shutting him up, but at the rate he’s going, she wouldn’t be surprised if there was an attempt on his life.
“It’s chicken.” Molly smiles tightly, serving him his meal. When everyone’s been served, no one says anything still, until the family pray.
While the prayer is happening, Harry is confused. Should she pray with them? Is that the etiquette here? She’s never been religious, not in that she’s refused to believe anything but that due to her hectic life style, she never had the time to think of the concept. She remembers people in Privet Drive attending Church, should she have? She feels even more awkward being at a loss at what to do, so like most of what she does these days, she turns to Tony. He catches her eye and raises his eyebrows, giving her a look that she can translate so easily. It says, ‘no prayer, Potter? How rude to these lovely hosts that may or may not be serial killers.’ She huffs out a small laugh, and when Molly's eyes immediately snap to hers at that, Harry fakes a cough and rubs her throat as if in pain.
“So,” Simon says when they start to eat, pointing his fork at Tony and Harry. “You two related?” Beside him, Molly emits a short snort.
“Obviously they’re brother and sister.” Sarah puts in. “They look identical.”
“We most certainly do not.” A voice snaps, and it takes a few seconds to realise that those words came out of her mouth. Oh.
Opposite her Sarah blinks. Next to her, Tony nods vigorously.
“I don’t get that logic. How do we look alike? Seriously, get me a notepad or something and write out these similarities, I’m dead serious. Is it the hair? Her hair is pitch black and mine is like, sooty, so that can’t be it. Face shape: no, mouth, no, eyes, you’re kidding if you say yes to that. Come on, get that notepad, we can make a list on things I need to change.”
Harry gives him a surprised and very unimpressed look. “How’s that now?”
It seems Tony realises what hole he’s beginning to dig himself into, as he backtracks very quickly. “Not that I wouldn’t wanna look like you. You’re- you know you’re gorgeous, cross my heart hope to die- but I don’t want to think of me when I look at you. I haven’t so far- why would”-
He clocks the small smile on her face. Honestly, for someone whose been travelling with her for a month now, and a supposed certified genius, it still takes an inordinately long time for the poor bloke to realise she’s messing with him.
“I see how it is.” He smirks, adjusting himself in his seat as if mentally preparing for what he’s about to do, oh no. “Game on.”
“We’re sorry if we caused any offence.” Molly tells them sincerely after a while, but she seems to be more interested in her spinach than Tony or Harry, so she doesn’t think that’s quite true after all.
“Oh it’s fine, really. I just don’t want people to confuse my husband with my relative!” And then Harry does a laugh so high pitched and ridiculous that it makes Tony splutter out his water through his nose. Game on indeed.
“Oh, you’re married.” That reassures Molly, who ignores Tony’s nose incident completely, until she spots Harry’s left hand. Then her mouth forms a pinched line. “Where’s the ring?”
“It wouldn’t fit on her chubby, manly sausages that call themselves fingers.” Tony comments lightly, dabbing cloth on his nose. “And believe me, we tried every finger. Even the little pinkie had issues. Now I’m not saying we’re gonna have to get a ring severely custom made, but let’s just say all the jewellers where we’re from are at, and to quote, a ‘professional loss’”.
Well, if that’s how he wants to play.
“Sadly, that’s true. It’s weird though, since the ring was too big for Tony’s delicate, princess like fingers. He was the envy of all the women buying engagement rings that day.”
“No worries though, may have dainty fingers, but everything else is large, believe me.”
“Anyways,” Molly clearly prefers the sound of her own voice, but, fair enough, her and Tony do talk a lot. And about things that some people don’t want to hear. “Considering you’re married, we want to make clear that, under no circumstances, are we to hear the sound of…. expressing love, for one another. And not in the way I tell Simon that I love him more than the earth,” their hands enfold around each other brightly for everyone to see, “but in the way a newfound husband and wife…enjoy their company.”
It takes two seconds for Harry to realise what they’re talking about. When she clocks it, her cheeks flare, and beside her, Tony coughs loudly and shuffles in his seat, as if he hadn't been joking about size a few seconds ago.
“Right, yeah, we can control ourselves for a night, right Ha- Rachel? It’ll be easier for me, Rachel here is like Satan made her in his lab.”
“Women are difficult to maintain.” Molly nods solemnly, causing Harry to double take.
“What was that?”
Molly emits a soft exhale. “Right, time to show you to your rooms for the night. I’ll first take Sarah to bed. Ah, also, we apologise for the lack of hot water in this household, we’re currently undergoing some plumbing. Wait here while we take Sarah up.” When the family leaves the room, Tony turns to her with a severe expression.
“Want me to say something? We can sleep in the car, I don’t care, I can go off at them. Besides, I was promised cake which I wasn’t given, so they’re not in my good books either.”
Harry shakes her head. “It wouldn’t be up to you to say anything, it would be for me.”
Tony’s look is fond and knowing. “I get that. But I don’t want anyone dying in this household, cause, you know, lawyers are expensive. Best get the more charming one in this little team to sort the negotiating out.”
Harry lets out a small chuckle, and Tony’ expression morphs into achievement, like he accomplished a goal he set out to do.
“Oh, and, quick question.”
“Yeah?”
“How did you know about Friends?”
“Um, the Force, Ross. Duh.”
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Molly and Simon practically lock them in their rooms at nine o’clock, saying it is time for bed.
Tony voices the idea that they might be preparing for the sacrifice, which in turn pisses Harry off and makes her very wary. She figures they poisoned their food at dinner or drugged them, and yet a wordless spell indicated during dinner that that was not the case. She’s starting to suspect they’re not serial killers after all. But, better safe than sorry.
Harry is still a bit miffed by Molly’s comment. So, when the door shuts, Harry decides to have a teeny, tiny, revenge plan. (Nothing too extreme, they are sleeping in their house for the night, after all.)
“Oh! Oh Ross!” She calls out in a moan very, very loudly. Tony’s head whips around to stare at her, and in all her time with him he has never looked so shocked, like he thinks she’s gone mental. His eyes have actually widened, and his mouth is softly parted. “Oh Ross! Harder Ross! Harder!”
She gives Tony an urging look, miming someone calling out and making a face. He snaps out of whatever reverie was going through his mind and his mouth closes with an audible click.
“Come on Rachel! Come on!” His voice is hoarse and gravelly, and Harry knows that this is a joke, that it’s supposed to be funny. But hearing him make that kind of noise has sky rocketed any and all tension they had together in this small room. Her face has gone blotchy, and it may be the trick of the light, but Tony’s eyes have darkened considerably.
“That’s it Ross! Almost there! Al”-
The door opens with a bang, Molly looking as if she’s been caught on fire. Her mouth is open as if she was about to shout. Perfect.
“Ah, Molly, good to see you. We were having some issues opening our suitcase, we just have to use our strength a little harder. I’m sorry, were we being too loud?” The smile she gives the woman is sweet and full of life, and the glare she receives in return is absolutely priceless.
When the door slams shut, Harry turns to Tony with a victorious expression. Not before seeing that Tony is as still as a statue.
“Tony?”
“Wha- Oh, um, I’m gonna go. Take a shower. Love hygiene- can’t live without that hygiene. He walks to open the door with a rapid pace.
“Of course. Oh, remember that Molly said there was no hot water for the time being,” Harry tells Tony just as he’s a foot away from having left the room.
“That’s fine.” Tony says a little too quickly, eyes looking up at the ceiling. “That is so fine.”
He takes an awfully long time in the shower, Harry notes, which is odd. Who would want to spend twenty minutes in a freezing shower?
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The bed is incredibly large.
That doesn’t bother Harry. If anything, it could be seen as rather amusing, it’s a tiny room with a massive bed, and it should be comical. It really should.
But, if Harry and Tony are going to be sleeping on one bed, she doesn’t think she can control herself. She wants to curl up against him, she wants to send a direct ‘fuck you’ to personal space. They’ve only shared a bed once, when Tony had his nightmare, and all the other times they’ve managed to secure two beds, which Harry never loved, really, but as long as Tony was comfortable. And yes, she knows she’s rambling, but her point is that she doesn’t want to spend the whole night with a solid ache in her chest at what she wants but simply can’t have. Not at this moment in time.
“So, which side do you want? You’re a left sider, aren’t you? Wait, why am I asking, I know this, you totally are. Weirdo, right side all the way, don’t know what they taught you in school.”
“Wow, your school sounds incredibly mellow if that was what was on your syllabus.”
Tony jumps on the right side of the bed, tucking his hands under his head and gazing at her with a sloppy grin. She immediately grins back, of course.
“Nah, it was boring as hell. If hell was filled with strict teachers and monotone learning rather than the whole, ‘fiery depths’ people are always banging on about. What about you?”
Harry almost gets herself lost in that question. Her initial thought on what her answer should be even to her own mind sounds vague and secretive, so she decides to incorporate some honesty.
“Boarding school up in Scotland. Definitely not boring.”
“Oh yeah?” His face brightens considerably. “I bet you were a troublemaker. Don’t even deny it, Potter, I’ll hold it against you in court.”
“The world should live in fear if you decide to become any role in the court room.”
“Someone’s purposefully not answering my brilliant Oprah levelled question.” He gives her a knowing look.
She huffs, trying to contain her giggle. “I suppose I got into trouble once or twice. Maybe a few more times than that.”
It’s Tony who ends up giggling, it’s a rare sound from him so she treasures the moment deeply. “I called it! Who’s the genius? I bet you did some wild shit, I’m expecting a story now, come on, story time, hop on the bed.”
Harry jumps on the bed herself, but she goes nowhere near the left side. Instead, Harry decides to be bold, to go as close to Tony as possible before he says something that has her going to her side. She ends up considerably near him, and when she hears silence, that has her regretting her decision. Before she can move her muscles, she feels two arms softly take hold of her waist and her whole-body heaves to Tony’s side, her head resting on his chest and their legs intertwined. It’s just what she wanted, and she finds herself feeling as if she’s just drank some champagne. Internally her body is practically exploding with tension as if she herself is one large firework. Under the palm of her hand, she can feel an erratic thump that’s trying to come out of Tony’s chest. When she finally looks at Tony, he’s wearing a small, soft smile.
“Yeah, you’re right, this place is freezing. Preserving heat’s the only way to go.”
It’s a warm temperature in the room, but Harry finds herself nodding. “I’m glad you understand my plight to survive.”
Tony’s grin enlarges. “Damn straight.”
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“They’re sweet,” Harry comments idly after a few minutes, her head practically stuffed into Tony’s shirt. She’s surprised he can hear her through the muffles. “Simon and Molly. I mean, there is a chance they’re murderers and have a few outdated comments, but they’re good to each other.”
“Meh. Too cheesy, packing in on the PDA.”
“The what?”
“Public Displays of Affection. Damn, I sometimes wonder how you went by life without my guidance. Though there is a ninety per cent chance we’re gonna pop our clogs, so maybe I wasn’t the best influence after all.”
“You’re my favourite influence.” Harry may have never met Howard Stark, but she is still able to dislike the man for completely shredding any self-esteem Tony ever had. She intends to remedy it by showing Tony how wonderful it is. It’s taking time, but Harry has quite a lot of patience. She’s had to wait a lot.
“Yeah, but that’s what drug dealers say about their stash, it’s unhealthy, really Haribo, if we had a damn car I’d drive you to the hospital.”
“Ah, I see. Is the hospital speaking to you, Tony? Perhaps you’re missing your calling as a mid-wife.”
A hand covers her mouth. “What happened to not talk about that for another twenty years?” He releases his hand. “Ew, saliva! That’s disgusting Potter! I could have cooties!”
“We probably both have cooties,” Harry ponders. “My chicken was a bit pink.”
“They’re trying to kill us alright. Or maybe that’s karma from all of your mean jokes. I’ve been travelling with a bully for a month, I deserve an award, a medal, a round of applause for my bravery.”
It’s Harry’s turn to move her hand to cover his mouth. She moves from her position, but she clumsily moves upwards to the point where her face is practically reaching his. All of a sudden, the air in the room changes, becoming static and heated and Harry is immediately thrown. She stares at Tony, at his big brown eyes, but she can’t help but linger back and forth from his eyes to his lips. She remembers how they felt against her own, how they were soft and sweet and right. And from the way that she catches Tony glancing from her own eyes to her mouth, she knows he’s thinking the same thing.
Harry doesn’t know how long this lasts for. All she’s thinking is whether or not she can take the step and just kiss him. She’s done it before! She knows the consequences of her actions, she knows that Tony wants what she wants, but it’s so much easier said than done. She’s a coward, people think she’s not, but she is. Maybe if she’d been braver more people would be alive. This was a thought that occurred to her after Sirius’ death. This was a thought that occurred to her after Hermione. Merlin, she’s thinking about death while debating if she should kiss Tony! This isn’t normal, Tony doesn’t deserve that. So, knowing she will regret her next words, she speaks them anyways.
“Why were they cheesy?”
“What?” Tony is thrown, like she’s dunked ice water over his head. His eyes clear as if waking up from a dream, and he sits up from where he was lying. He takes her with him though, the only difference being the place of their heads are now further away from each other. Harry misses the atmosphere of Tony so terribly, even when her body’s essentially moulded into his. She wants to forget about what she’s saying and just fucking kiss him, but she ploughs through her words as if they’re important. They’re not.
“Simon and Molly. Why were they cheesy? They weren’t even performing any serious ‘PDA’.”
Tony shrugs, one of his fingers drawing shapes on her back. She believes him to be spelling out her name, though she can’t identify the other words he writes.
“Ah, just how they speak. I hate when people overstate things.”
That makes Harry frown. “What do you mean?”
“Well.” He looks at everything but Harry, and she knows he’s now shy, but she doesn’t understand why that is. “Molly was like, ‘I love you more than I love the world’, which, yeah, cool, great, swell even. But why have someone tell you that? I prefer something lower key, something that doesn’t over exaggerate, if anything something that under exaggerates. Is that a word? I’ll make it a word.”
“Like what? Give me an example,” Harry presses, wanting to hear more.
“Ooh, Sassy Harry, one of my favourites.” She pinches his arm, he continues. “I don’t know. Oh! Yeah! ‘You’re alright’, that’s a good one. Layered and everything.”
Harry doesn’t usually splutter. “That’s terrible! That’s not even an under exaggeration, which is a word by the way. If anything, that’s disliking someone and trying to be nice!”
“It’s better than, I love you more than the world. What the hell is that? I love the world more than anything because I’m logical. Without the world the people I love wouldn’t be in it. So, dumb statement Molly, buy a dictionary before you start getting all cocky about your love.”
“You’re so utterly ridiculous,” Harry hides her face so he can’t see her smile, though he obviously hears her laughter peek through. He doesn’t say much after that, a change really. He keeps drawing things on her back.
“Tony,” she whispers after a few minutes.
“Mmm?”
“If they murder us, I’ll go first. So you can attempt to run away, of course.”
“Aw, Hare-Bear! I knew you’d come through!”
“Though you’d have to owe me.’
“Yeah, considering you’d be dead, I’m happy to go with that.”
Harry snorts loudly. “If you think for one second I won’t haunt you as a ghost, then you’re not the genius I thought you were.”
Instead of the laugh she thinks she’d receive, Tony speaks again. This time, his voice is hesitant and the quietest she’s ever heard.
“Harry?”
“Mmm?” She mirrors.
“You know…you know you’re alright. Right?”
When Harry looks up at him, his eyes are crinkled at the corners, and yet they are serious, as if he wants the message ingrained within her. She hopes her answering beam is enough.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
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That night, Harry has the most vivid dream she’s had since Tom was still alive.
But it doesn’t feel like a dream. Pictures come at her in waves of colour and warning, and they flow around her as if just out of reach.
She sees a man in a red cape, forming an orange volcanic circle in mid air with his hands alone. She sees a green stomping creature roaring furiously, she sees a man dressed in emerald, gliding about the earth as if he owns it. She sees a flash of purple, and a blink of gold so bright that she flinches.
There are words.
(“There was an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people, to see if we could become something more.”)
(“I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”)
(“I have an army.”
“You know you’re boasting right after you met my wife, right? Do you honestly see yourself in a position to boast right now?”)
(“Cause if we can’t protect the Earth, you can be damn sure we’ll avenge it.”)
(“The world has changed and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best that we can do is to start over.”)
(“Dude you’re embarrassing me in front of the wizards. Where’s Harry, she’ll salvage my rep.”)
(“I don’t wanna go.”)
(“This is the fight of our lives. We are going to win. Whatever it takes.”)
The gold returns and it’s everywhere, it surrounds her like a room filled with walls that are edging in and she can’t break free, can’t move, it’s suffocating, and she wants to scream there are words and pictures and flashes and it’s all a warning-
“Balancing the universe will never be considered an enjoyable task. And yet, had I known you were real, I would have eradicated my previous conquests with glee.”
Harry wakes with a start.