Chapter 10
“You’re actually taking me to the Wizarding World?” Patrick splutters. It’s so out of his normal cavalier attitude that Harry is momentarily shocked; trust Tony to fill in the resounding surprised silence.
“If I can pass that information with remarkable mental strength than so can you, Swayze.”
Patrick ignores him, regarding Harry in a way that almost seems panicked. “I had assumed this was an idle threat. I’d been told you were merciful.”
“Who? Who told you that?” Harry places her hands on her hips for good measure, though she tries to keep her voice down: yelling in an alleyway attracts attention none of them need. And Patrick seems to be in denial, since he hasn’t tried to run away since the day before. Not that the charm would let him, of course.
“Harry,” Tony says softly, giving her a gentle flick to the cheek. When she gives him her attention she’s rewarded with an encouraging smile. “He’s winding you up, trying to get out of the authorities’ business. Trust me, I’ve seen this countless of times. Hostage situations gone wrong and all.”
It’s almost as if he doesn’t realise his words are winding her up more than Patrick as a whole.
“Ah yes, that. Did they catch all the…hostage initiators?”
Tony seems to realise himself, straightening up and clearing his throat. “Story for another time, gorgeous.”
“One I won’t forget to ask about.” Harry sends him a cutting look. Because Tony may speak more than the average human being, but he rarely says anything. Though, pot calling kettle black, she knows. Last night could give her the upper hand, however.
Nothing seems to have changed between them since then.
Harry was expecting a tinge of awkwardness, perhaps obliviousness from the night before. But though nothing has been discussed, Tony has been gazing her with something close to admiration, and a hint of an aspect similar to that of fondness. Harry doesn’t know how to approach this, and since she was particularly truthful in recent hours, she’ll let him handle what happens next between…well, them.
“Yeah, yeah. So, how we getting to the uh, ministry? Yep, ministry, got it. What did you call it again? Apple-ating?”
“Don’t mock wizarding terms again, filthy muggle”-
“Patrick,” Harry warns, her words biting. Patrick locks gazes with her immediately and rather unnervingly. “I’d appreciate if you only spoke when addressed. She taps her finger to her lips for good measure.
Tony lets out a snort.
“And no,” she adds, turning her attention back to Tony, where it actually wants to be. “We’re apparating to a certain destination that will take us to the ministry. It’s been incredibly strict lately, what with a new construction after the war.”
“Right.” Tony is clipped, a rather odd change from his relaxed demeanour. “The war.”
----------------------------
“I have a lot of baggage.” Are her opening words, making Harry cringe, mostly out of frustration then actual embarrassment. Opening up is…harder than anticipated.
She’s never really been an open person.
From an early age Harry had been taught that the truth was not something to be shared off the bat. Even with Ron; even with Hermione, her brother and sister, validity was never something Harry had to actively ensure. People simply just knew more about her life than she did.
But Harry wants to tell Tony the truth, for the first time she is actively trying to bare all (well, not all) but it’s difficult to go about. Especially with Tony’s patience, if he had been angry she could easily lose her temper and find a reason not to tell him.
Merlin, this is horrendous.
Tony’s about to say something, probably a quip to ease the growing tension. And it’s so perfectly Tony, so adorable and unknowingly selfless, that it reminds her of why she’s doing this. So before he can speak, she does.
“Weird things used to happen around me before I was eleven.” Tony’s attention snaps to hers, unwavering. “Especially when I was angry. And, to keep a long story short, on my eleventh birthday, I was informed that I was a witch That there was a Wizarding World and within it a school full of people like me, witches and wizards, where I could go from then on. That it could be somewhere I belonged.”
“Like a cult?”
Harry huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “No, just a magical boarding school.”
Tony squints, clearly biting his tongue. “Right, of course.”
Harry chooses her next words carefully, “when I first went to the Wizarding World I noticed people knew my name. It felt like they knew more about me then I did. Which was odd; I excused it at first- my parents had died when I was a baby, you see, so when people knew about me, I just thought- you know, my parents.” Harry flushes, irritated by her story telling; she can’t get her speech out right and it’s troubling. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing this right.”
Tony shrugs. “You’re doing great. Feels like I’m there.”
She huffs again from amusement. Tony’s such an git .
“I’m sorry, do you want to tell the story?”
“Nope, excuse the old foot in mouth. I love your story telling, I’m digging it, continue. I’m all ears.”
----------------------------
“So,” Tony claps his hands together. “How do we do this? Is it like, joining together in a circle? Or clicking your feet together? There’s no place like the ministry, there’s no place like the ministry. Oh, come on. Wizard of Oz? Have you ever even looked at a movie screen?”
“We saw Star Battles together!” Harry crosses her arms indignantly.
Tony groans, “Star Wars. Was that on purpose? I feel attacked, was I just attacked on purpose?”
“When you are attacked, you will know.” Patrick says, his voice an octave lower than usual. Harry looks at him for a few seconds, before turning back to Tony; she notes Tony has done the same thing.
“Star Battles sounds better. Because the film is a series of battles, is it not?”
“Star Wars. It’s catchier, no one would go and see battles in space. Lame, I expected better from you, Potter. Seriously, respect for you has decreased. Significantly.”
“Well of course you like Star Wars now. But you would be agreeing with me right now if in another life it had been advertised”-
“Enough!” Comes a snap, Harry once again turns to see Patrick practically appearing constipated. “I have had enough of this gibberish! It is clear you want me to divulge information to you of who set the bounty on your head, and that you are using annoying trivial chatter to convince my lips into confessing.”
Tony points a thumb at him. “This isn’t working out. I can’t have a fun sponge tagging along in this iconic pairing, he’s out.”
Harry nods in agreement. Patrick just interrupted them, and, well, she hates to be possessive, but no one has the right to interrupt them.
“We should apparate now. The sooner he’s off, the better.”
Patrick casts a wary glance at her; Harry feels scrutinised, as if she’s under a microscope. “Surely you don’t think you’re powerful enough to successfully apparate.”
Harry straightens. “You’d be surprised. Now, Tony. I’m afraid this might be…unpleasant. But you don’t have to”-
“I’m going.” Tony says, raising his eyebrows as if she’d said something silly. “And hey, I can deal with unpleasant. Stark, remember? I’m a badass.”
“I know,” she smiles at him, all too happy when he smiles back. It’s a secret smile, one that’s hiding so much, and yet Harry’s not completely positive as to what’s being hidden. As per usual she takes her hand in his, and reluctantly does the same with Patrick, whose hands are predictably clammy.
“One last chance to wait for me here until I come back.”
“I’m not a loser, Potter.”
She closes her eyes, and a pull grabs her under.
--------------------------
“I found out that I was famous, and why I was famous…rather quickly,” Harry continues, twisting her palms together.
“How famous are you?” Tony’s sentence is laced with curiosity, his eyes flashing in interest.
“Very.” She doesn’t mean to say it with such bitterness, but she cannot pretend that this is the life she wanted. Fame has attached itself like gum to a shoe and try as she might she knows she will never manage to scrape it off. “When I was one, there was a war taking place, lead by a powerful dark wizard. My parents were targeted and killed by him in my home. And he tried to kill me soon after, but my mum had placed a charm on myself before her death, that when he tried to end my life, his spell ended up killing him instead. Do you understand?”
Tony nods slowly. “So your mom killed him?"
“I suppose so.” She had never really thought of it like that.
“So you go to this magic school and everyone thinks you’re the shit.”
“I was hailed as slaying the Dark Wizard, yes. Tom, his name was. Tom. He wasn’t dead though, like everyone believed, he was wounded, and managed to escape to safety.”
She doesn’t want to think about him, she hates the thought of him, his presence. So she looks at Tony instead, hoping whatever he says can suck all the negative thoughts from her mind like a vacuum. He doesn’t say anything though, he just continues to wait for her to speak. He’s truly never been this silent, it’s too different for her to process this correctly.
“I went to this school- Hogwarts, that was its name, and. For years he and his followers tried to kill me, essentially. Until my fourth year, where a ritual healed him completely. He came back and quickly restarted the war. And since I was his- failure?- I’m not sure- well, I became the figurehead of the war.”
-----------------------
Tony is throwing up on the alley near the underground.
Harry feels awful. She knows apparition can be terrible, and here is the best evidence for it. She rubs a hand up and down his back as he heaves; she feels utterly useless seeing as all she can provide for him is support. She’s always preferred the route where actual action is taken.
“I’m good.” Tony gives her a thumbs up. “Strong stomach, me.”
“Evidently.” Harry deadpans. This bloke is stubborn.
Tony makes an indignant noise from his throat. “I’ll have you know, that I once outdrank a bartender. I’ll outdrink you, Miss Lightweight.”
“You’re on. I could outdrink you in my sleep.” She’ll introduce him to fire whiskey soon, he will not live to see the day.
“I’ll ignore that since I’m a sucker for honouring your pride.” Tony straightens, seeming to have relaxed. “So that was the teleport thing? I wonder how the cells within humans”-
“Where are you taking me?” Patrick’s become a narrator in the past few hours apparently, seeing as he interrupts every conversation Harry and Tony have tried to have. Harry knows Patrick wouldn’t get far if he decided to run (Harry, not to pride herself too much, had created a charm that’s prevented him from even jogging. Hermione had taught her that, she adds in her mind with melancholy.)
“We close to the…Magic Parliament?” Tony asks bemusedly. Harry rather enjoys seeing him so caught off-guard. “And hey, maybe we can meet Ron? I’m a sucker for red heads, swear to god.”
“We’re not seeing Ron.” Harry mutters, though it’s said too quickly to be taken as a casual comment.
She wants to see Ron. But…not until she’s ready.
Tony seems to understand her, his eyes flashing in understanding, not to broach the subject. He’s too good to her, she knows. “So where are we going?”
When Harry points to the station, Tony’s expression forms into amusement.
“Uh, not that I’m not crazy about the subway, it’s all I think about at night, but…what?”
“Trust me,” Harry says, pulling her hair into a pony tail and covering her head with a hat for good measure. The clothes she’s wearing are masculine and cover up most of her face, so she won’t be looked at twice. “And we Brits call this the tube. Just some British trivia for you.”
“So literally the only thing you know about culture is the right name for the English subway? We need to get you on a quiz show ASAP.”
“You are joking about this route to our world, aren’t you? How childish. But oh, I see. You want to scare me, make me believe we’re going to the ministry. A clever attempt, Miss Potter.”
“Oh wow, Patrick’s talking, great. I was about to ask Harry over here if she had seen a rainbow, so happy we got the next best thing.”
“Miss Potter, please tell your muggle”-
“Harry, please tell your wizard friend to grow a set of balls and talk to me himself.”
“Both of you are idiots.” Harry rolls her eyes. She then sees Tony’s pout and decides to concede. “Except you.”
Tony beams, “that’s the spirit!”
“I have had enough of you utter fools.”
“We’re not so fond of you either. Shit personality, terrible fashion sense. Not to mention the kidnapping, it just put me off, I don’t know, call me crazy.”
“The plan,” Harry speaks over the incessant squabbling; the second they send Patrick to the authorities the better. “Is to enter the public loos- seeing how you two are male we’ll go to the men’s area. We step in the toilet seat and will be flushed down the toilet to the ministry. Got it?”
There’s a beat.
A very long beat.
And then finally:
Tony bursts into laughter; a hand holding his stomach in support, and for a while both Patrick and Harry look at Tony, waiting for him to realise she’s being completely sincere. When he does eventually quieten, he looks at Harry with a dropped jaw.
In hindsight, she maybe should have practiced her plan in more sensible words beforehand.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Harriet.”
“Anthony.”
“It today April the First?”
“Not yet, no.”
“You’re legitimately telling me, with a straight face, that a way to get to the…Wizard Parliament, is by going in a shitter?”
“A shitter? Patrick chimes in, his nose crinkled. “One of us was clearly raised in a barn.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Rickster,” Tony mutters absentmindedly, not even peeking in Patrick’s direction. “I’m sure all the ladies were queueing up to get a look at you in all your barn glory. Back to the topic at hand- Harry- seriously? Will my shoes smell after? Do I have to throw out my shoes? Or can you clean them with your magic? Damn, wrong day to wear these beauties.”
-----------------------------
Entering one stall with all three of them is slightly difficult.
Patrick seems to be under the impression that they’re playing a practical joke on him; he’s not making any move to run away and looks at them as if constantly waiting for the punchline. Harry almost pities him.
Tony, noticeably does not.
“Alright, entering the bathroom. Ew, Harry! Someone can’t aim. Patrick, did you do this?”
“I have been with you the entire time, how could I possibly”-
“Hey!” A gruff voice interrupts the discussion; Harry turns to see a big man, tattoos on both arms which are folded. “One person at a time.”
“Sorry mate,” Tony speaks in a surprisingly decent British accent. “Nothing like a three way on a Friday, am I right? Ta.”
They quickly manage to huddle in before the man can say anything, which is a success, until the man starts banging on the door.
They all step inside the toilet seat with rapid speed, Tony making a face on the impact with his shoe in the water.
“If you hadn’t provoked the muggle fool”-
“He’s just jealous he doesn’t have people to go to a bathroom stall with, back me up Harry”-
Harry wants to melt into the toilet water. Instead of doing this, however, she pulls the flush, gripping Tony as he gasps at the sensation.
It is black for a few moments
----------------------------
“A figurehead,” Tony seems to be taking this information quite well, though his foot is consistently drumming the ground. “So, what? You were used for propaganda?”
“I was seen as the leader of the war,” Harry clarifies, Tony’s foot stops drumming. “And my headmaster- he saw it as up to me, to us, to finish Tom off once and for all. See, Tom had put his soul into something called horcruxes- objects, basically. As long as these objects remained undestroyed, he could live forever. My headmaster and I planned to destroy them all, before his death. Then it was up to me, me and my friends.”
“He just threw that responsibility on you.”
Harry shrugs, an act more careless than she actually feels. “It was the only way. For a year me and my two friends searched for the horcruxes. Until Tom found out. We came back to my school for the final battle, destroyed the horcruxes, and I managed to kill Tom."
It’s incredibly watered down. It’s surface, it’s the most basic form of detail one can provide, but it’s something. She just can’t tell him every single thing right now, she doesn’t know if she could without draining herself, without scaring him away.
Tony, for his part, remains silent, his face stone faced and processing.
-----------------------------
Harry has lost her hat.
It is something she focuses on to distract herself from the overload of emotion. Where did her hat go? Did it get lost in terms of transport? She didn’t particularly like the hat, but now she is left bare and vulnerable; anyone can identify her easily, she feels practically naked.
The ministry is as Harry expected it to look like. It is under reconstruction, a whole new change from the war, an announcement declared a week after the final battle. She’s taken back to the last time she set foot here; when she, Ron and Hermione had gone there under disguise. The atmosphere is as dark and gloomy as ever and Harry still has the sense of being an intruder rather than the hero everyone seems to think she is.
“We’re here.” She whispers, more to herself than to her two visitors she came here with, and Harry doesn’t know why her hand is shaking, but it is.
Until it is gently taken into a grasp. Tony’s hands are always comforting, they’re always warm and inviting.
“I’m definitely numb.” Tony muses aloud, taking everything in. “I’ve been flushed down a toilet, I feel like seeing this is next to nothing. Is this where wizards make decisions? How can they sign papers with this lighting?”
He’s trying to lighten the mood, she realises. There is a spread of such warmth within her that Harry wants to take him in her arms and squeeze as tight as she can; she doesn’t know how to process the giddiness inside her that makes her feel like a bottle of champagne. It turns out she doesn’t have the time to. She hears a gasp in front of her, and she looks to see a Wizard staring at her intently, flushed.
“Harriet Potter?”
Well. She knew she had to face the music.
“Pleasure. I am here to escort a prisoner, is there somewhere”-
The man’s eyes widen in shock, mouth parting as if physically slapped. Which throws Harry right off, seeing as the man is looking at Tony.
“Don’t move, Miss Potter. There is- a muggle- next to you.”
She means, yes. She’s holding his hand. Merlin, this man is an actual idiot.
“Well, yeah, he came with me. I’m here to escort”-
“I will alert security!” The man practically shrieks, which is really just all around unnecessary. Though Harry feels like a fool- why did she bring Tony here? She should have known there would be a reaction, but she wasn’t aware people would just know he was a muggle- is that a thing? Do wizards just know these days?
“That’s really not necess”-
The barmy man has already fled the scene. Harry wants to outwardly sigh and pace; she should have known nothing went smoothly in this dark hole.
She turns to Tony to apologise.
“If you even think about apologising I will poke you.”
Harry’s mouth snaps shut. Her hand within his tightens, her own language of comfort.
-----------------------------
“So that’s why you left?” Tony asks her, sitting next to her on the bed. His voice is rough from misuse; it has been time since he has spoken. For an hour he’s been sitting on the motel chair, hand covering mouth in his thoughts. She’s missed his voice.
“It wasn’t safe for me to remain in Britain. That and, well, you know. My friend.”
She doesn’t want to think about that even more than she did Tom.
Tony gazes at her for a few moments, his eyes brimming with something Harry cannot identify. He takes his hand and cups her cheek, stroking his thumb across her skin back and forth. Harry is startled.
“I don’t know what I can say.” Tony says gently, continuing to hold her face so delicately she feels like a piece of china. “I just- I meant what I said, you know? You’re so brave, Harry. You don’t even know it.”
Harry doesn’t want to protest; if she does he’ll convince her of this fact, he has such a way with words. But she doesn’t want to be disillusioned, see.
“So you believe me then?”
“You weren’t lying about,” he gestures to the candles scattered around the room, “why would you lie about this? I mean, I know I haven’t gotten the full story,” a gives her a knowing look, “but- I don’t know what to say. You’re a hero, Harry.”
The genuinely in his stare causes a shiver to tingle down her spine.
------------------------
The group confronting them are practically comical.
Their wands are raised as if in unison, and it looks so rehearsed and of course, comical, that Harry almost doesn’t see it as a threat.
Almost, being the key word.
Harry aims her own wand at the ready, stepping in front of Tony in a gesture that is clear and precise. From the corner of her eye she sees Patrick move in next to Tony so he’s behind her too. It’s cowardly, it pisses Harry off, it fuels her on.
“Back off,” she says loudly, her voice echoing in the ensuing silence. She levels the group with a piercing stare, which is only furthered when she sees the same expression reflected back at her.
“Miss Potter,” someone on the left, a scruffy looking man with a chin dimple sneers: Harry’s hackles rise. “You understand that precautions must be taken to prevent muggles from”-
“I believe our subject deserves a hearing. Not something the ministry is familiar with, but I am. You’re not touching my man with a ten-foot pole.”
It takes a full ten seconds of nothing being said, to realise she may have said…too much.
“My men,” she clarifies. It takes another ten seconds to realise that’s only made the whole thing even worse. She can hear Patrick shift, feet scraping against the floor. Harry has no idea what Tony’s thinking, she’s happy in ignorance, really.
“Miss Potter,” the man sighs; Harry thought she was above hitting someone unprovoked and yet here she is, fists beginning to clench. “It is impertinent that we do not allow a muggle”-
“Is that discrimination? It sounds like discrimination.”
Harry whirls around to give Tony a sharp glare, hoping he gets the message to be quiet. He locks eyes with her, not moving anywhere when he continues to talk.
“I’m staying with Harry. Don’t wanna…boast, or anything, but you wave that wand in my direction? I don’t think Miss Potter over here is gonna be having any of that.
The group all look hesitant in their next approach, before slowly lowering their wands. Harry smirks at Tony, pride probably leaking through her facial features. Tony offers her a soft wink.
“The muggle situation will have to be addressed.”
“I understand. I’ll have to be with him, obviously. Meanwhile, you can take this man,” she points at Patrick, “away. He is a bounty hunter who attempted to kill me and…my man. He’s wearing a magic preventing bracelet, or something like that.”
A woman in the group, with tanned skin and blonde short hair, nods and makes way to take Patrick away. “Must be an idiot bounty hunter than. Why put the Prevention Jewellery on one’s self?”
Harry doesn’t know how idiots are working in the ministry. Is this a new development? Or was she always too young to be fully disillusioned?
“Well, of course not. I put it on him.”
The woman looks at her as if she’s asinine. “Don’t be ridiculous, Miss Potter. Only the magic caster can take off the Prevention. It’s impossible to remove it otherwise.”
“I want to speak to Harriet Potter!” Patrick says loudly, nodding erratically. “Before you take me away, I’d like to talk to you. Alone.”
Harry is about to shake her head vehemently, until Patrick once more shocks her.
“Please.”
-----------------------------
“You can’t be serious,” Patrick’s expression is impassive, and yet the tick in his jaw betrays his attempt at neutrality.
“It’s not up to me now.” She says, drained of energy at this day she just wants to be over. She walks towards the door Tony’s behind; Harry won’t leave him for another second alone in the magic world- word or not, the ministry will always reek of corruption and distrust to her. “The authorities will deal with you, like I told you yesterday.”
“I was told you were merciful, Miss Potter.”
“That didn’t stop you from kidnapping me, did it?” Harry snaps, rounding on him as a quickly takes a step back. “That didn’t stop you from trying to kill me, trying to kill Tony. And what? Now you want me to grant you mercy when I would have been given the opposite treatment? The bruise on my face hasn’t even begun to heal yet, Patrick. Had it not been for my magic, Tony may have had a brain injury- and if Tony has one bad dream containing you in them I will take you from the ministry’s hands and deal with you myself."
She has never seen someone look so afraid of her in her life. He’s looking at something in her eyes, of what she is not sure. But it seems to be something of substance if he’s shrinking in on himself this much.
“I wouldn’t have killed him,” he says, mouse-like.
Harry scoffs, “you threatened to kill him in front of me. Don’t try and weasel out of what you’ve done.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he implores. “I would have just killed you, that was all she asked for.” Patrick snaps his mouth shut.
Harry freezes.
“Who’s she?”
“Let me go.” Patrick’s eyes shin in hope, and whether she likes it or not, Harrys insides squirm with guilt. “I’ll tell you everything, please, I promise. Don’t leave me here, I can’t go to Azca- I can’t!”
Patrick falls to his knees, trying to take Harry’s hands in his, like Tony and her did yesterday; it’s such a pale and tainted imitation that Harry immediately slaps his hands from hers. When she does this, Patrick begins to tremble.
“Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?”
“I thought you were lying! I didn’t realise the extent of your power! Please, Miss Potter. Please.”
She has never seen someone begging this much. Apart from Pettigrew.
That thought does not do much for her…mercy.
“I have never liked when people have tried to take what’s mine away from me.” She murmurs, a part of her revelling when Patrick’s shaking increases. “You’re a liar, Patrick. Given the chance you would have killed Tony in a heartbeat.” She bends down to be face level with him. “And I can’t forgive that. Whoever told you I had mercy was a liar too.”
“Miss Potter, I am on my knees. Begging.”
Harry takes one last look at him, searching the lines of despair practically stapled to his visage. She shouldn’t be gleeful, she shouldn’t, and yet a small tug upwards of her lips reveals a little smirk that she can’t mask.
Swiftly she rises and walks to the exit with measured steps, ignoring the echoes of pleas thrown at her in her wake.
“Whoever she is, I’m not afraid of her, Patrick. She’ll become the ministries problem, just like you. I wish you luck.” She opens the door.
“Miss Potter! Harriet! Please!”
The door closes with a reverberating shut.
---------------------------------
It’s not like she just forgets about the whole encounter.
They had quickly left the ministry, Harry feigning illness and holding onto Tony’s hand like it came personally attached to her in the mail. They left with promises of return to address the ‘muggle issue’, they left knowing the promise was utter bull.
The ministry has become worryingly obtuse.
But it’s Patrick, that is all Harry can think about for the rest of the day. Tony seems to realise she’s got something on her mind: he suggests a hotel in the muggle world, and when they apparate he doesn’t even throw up.
He’s always been so impressive.
And yet, her thoughts stray from Tony to Patrick’s words. She. Is she real? Was he a last attempt to make her want to keep him? Harry is unsure, nothing is making sense at this moment.
Except one thing.
Merciful.
Patrick had said her to be merciful.
No one has ever said that of Harry.
To say that, they wouldn’t know about Hermione.
Merciful.
Someone has been mocking Harry.
Someone with a bounty on her head.
--------------------------------
“I think I’m going mad,” she tells Tony later. They both lie on the bed of the hotel looking at the ceiling. The ministry, like she said, want her back tomorrow, to question her relationship with the ‘muggle’ and the information he knows. That won’t happen though, Harry’s never letting Tony set foot in such a horrid environment again.
“Finally, you figured it out.” Tony’s fingers rake through Harry’s head, softly stroking through the locks and occasionally fiddling with the ends. They’ve been like this for a while, lying in silence and locked in their own thoughts. Tony’s probably still thinking of her revelation, and Harry’s thinking of Patrick.
“I’m serious. I left Patrick there despite his screaming. You heard it yourself, it was awful.”
Tony adjusts his position, his chin resting on her head. “After what he did, I don’t know if I care. Wait, I know. I don’t care.”
It’s not enough to satiate her, though.
“I’m being more reckless than usual, too. I shouldn’t have brought you with me to the ministry; I don’t know how they identified you, but they did, and they could have done damage.”
“I would have gone with you had I known either way.” He says it like it’s the final word in the conversation; he’s never been good at showing emotions since they met, but his words always have so much hidden meaning. Harry finds it staggering. “You know I’m a clingy bitch. It’s something I’ve recently accepted, and now you have to as well.”
“But I should have known there was a chance of danger.” Harry insists, sitting up. “It was days ago when we were both in danger, both tied up and vulnerable. I should have known better. And- I’m not sure if he was lying, but Patrick mentioned a woman whose been talking about me”-
“He was trying to save his own skin. Besides the fact that you’re travelling means whoever this real slash non-real person is, won’t be able to find you.”
“But Patrick did.”
“Creep was lucky. The ministry is gonna get all the information on that tool and let you know as soon as possible.”
“I still put you in danger!” Doesn’t he understand?
Tony sits up too, his eyes heated. “Don’t use this as an excuse to leave, Harry. Don’t think I’ll be safe without you- hostage situations, remember? Famous, remember? I’ll never be safe, and as much as you don’t think it, I’m much safer in a room with you then I ever was by myself. So deal with it. Okay?”
Harry shakes her head, Tony takes his hands and rests them on both sides on her face. He seems almost desperate, an emotion Harry never associated with Tony until now. But why? Why is this of all things getting to Tony?
“Harry. Don’t use this as a reason to leave.”
“What?”
Tony actually stutters. “Last night- you- I found out about- I mean not all of you- but I get you, I get that you’ve been through shit. And I didn’t know what to say yesterday, because. What do you say to that? What can you say? Other than, you’re a hero- cause you are. But it’s been such a short time since your war, I know you- have stuff to deal with- but.” Tony shakes his head; he reminds her of her own inability to get her words out right the night before.”
“I think you’re amazing, Harry. And I know you’re considering leaving, because that’s who you are, you think that’s protecting me, you’re so good, deep to your core. When we first met you asked me to come with you; I guess this is me asking you to stay.” His eyes never leave hers. “Stay, Harry.”
Harry feels her heart threaten to leave her chest. It is pounding and so heavily filled with adoration, as if her arteries have been clogged with only positive emotions that overwhelm her.
She doesn’t know how she went through life without this sensation.
“I won’t leave.” She promises, as if the idle thought of packing her bags and leaving could ever come to pass. She doesn’t think she could let him leave her either; Harry knows she’s incredibly selfish. And merciless.
She did kill her sister, after all.
Tony visibly deflates, hands still pressed against her cheeks like a life line, though with much less intensity than before. “Right. Good, since you’re meeting Rhodey next week and all, did I mention? Also, you’re in for some quality yelling time.”
Harry smiles, knowing Tony’s trying to make her happy.
How she adores him.
“Oh?”
“Playing dumb, Potter. You’re telling me this whole time, we could have been teleporting across continents, and you chose to drive?
Harry’s thoughts are instantly brightened.