Chapter 12
Saturday night saw the exclusive event of the one and only Tony Stark’s birthday bash! None were disappointed at what was in store for them. According to inside sources, guests were each given a gift bag containing anything and everything you could want!
“I got Tiffany jewellery in mine,” an inside source reveals. When we ask about the host himself, there seems to be a lot to say.
“It was weird.” Our source remarks, staring out of the window as his memories unfurl. “Stark’s clearly spent way too long in Europe. When he spoke his accent bounced from being American to British. He’s definitely doing a Madonna.”
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All the freaking out and scratching heads in bafflement is more of a been there done that concept to Harry, and yet, she can’t help but feel confused. Because she might be foolhardy and considerably reckless, as her past suggests, but Harry would never, ever, have done a spell towards Tony if she believed it to be dangerous.
So Harry does think and freak and scratch her head in bafflement; she might be somewhat of a mess, but this is if a mess unleashed the inside of an old used vacuum cleaner.
No; she had done this right. She would know: Hermione had bloody well taught her the damned thing! During one of Harry’s Moments where she found her hair particularly uncontrollable, the only reasonable thing for her to do was to cut it to meet her ears. She thought it had looked fine.
Hermione hadn’t.
The spell should have worked.
Right now, the only thing she suspects is that there must be something wrong with her magic. She doesn't fuck up this drastically, ever.
“It was the collarbone.” Tony says. Harry’s confused at that. Because what?
“What?”
“I was touching your collarbone. Not…the boob.”
“…Alright.”
There is another silence, Harry having no clue what to say, other than bullshit.
“The spell was made for only seven hours at most.” Harry reasons aloud (a brilliant topic changer if she doesn’t say so herself), so very confused and yet no answers rest on the tip of her tongue. “It's most likely that it wears off in a few hours. The fact that I've never heard of a body swapping spell, it probably means it's nothing dangerous or permanent. If not…there’s a family I can go to for help.”
The Weasley’s would help. It would be a nerve racking reunion, Mrs Weasley would make her deaf, but they would help.
“Right.” Tony nods. “Okay, I can last a few hours. Won’t explode. Plus, I spend roughly five thousand billion hours in a lab without peeing. Few hours? Piece of cake. Unless this body decides it’s on their peri- I don’t wanna talk about it, I can’t, I’d die. It’d be the worst way to go.”
Tony’s rambling doesn’t last particularly long, however, considering there is a knock at the door. And a glimpse through the key hole reveals none other than James Rhodes.
“It’s Rhodey,” Harry hisses, scrunching her face up like used paper. His face. Shit. She has no idea what to do at this current moment in time. If Hermione could see her now…
It wouldn’t be pretty.
Ron would laugh hysterically.
“Crap.” Tony mutters, dragging a hand through his (her) hair. “Think Stark, think.”
“Tones, you in there?” Rhodey’s muffled voice calls through next door; Tony and Harry both turn to look at each other with horror.
“He wants us to go to the party!” Harry hisses. “This is a disaster.”
“Give him a good lie.”
“Like what?”
“That…. I don’t know!....You’re joining a nunnery!”
Harry stares at him. “A nunnery?”
Tony covers his face. Her face. She really fucked up, didn’t she?
“It was the first thing I thought of! I’m usually a great liar! I’d tell you to ask the media, but if they knew I was lying then it wouldn’t be lying. Wow, take a shot for each time I say lying.”
“Tony.” There are a few more knocks. “You’re not getting out of this. Open the door.”
“Can we use magic to, I don’t know, move the party tomorrow night? Okay, that’s actually a brilliant idea.”
“There seems to be something wrong with my magic,” Harry muses, more sedate than she thought she’d be about that. A quick inspection of her body comforts her though, seeing as she can still feel her magic as clear as day.
Oh thank Merlin.
“Wait hold on. Can I do magic?” Tony lifts his hand and grits his teeth, seeming to be waiting for something to happen.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m seeing if I’m a wizard.” He looks disappointed, then brightens up. “So…my body can do magic?” Tony asks. He then appears very, very happy. “That’s awesome! Can we take a video of that before it wears off?”
“My magic appears to be malfunctioning, I’m not doing magic for the time”-
“Tony! I’m not playing around man, open this door.”
Tony groans, giving Harry a pitying look. “I don’t think there’s getting out of this.”
He opens the door, looking freaked. “I…I promised Rhodey, Harry.”
Harry wants to tell him it's an awful idea, it's just the worst Tony. But it is her fault. And even if she protested, she knows his loyalty knows no bounds.
"Unlock the door, then."
This might just be her worst decision yet.
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“You ready?”
“Yeah, give me a minute.” It’s actually one of the most trying tasks ever, actually, getting ready without seeing. Tony uses one of his pants as a blindfold, because he is one hundred per cent made from Gentleman Stork, obviously, and he won’t sneak a peek even if he was drunk or stoned or something.
When his head successfully finds the hole of the dress, his arms follow. Well, Harry’s arms, but that’s a whole (pun intended) other problem he’s too bemused to really get into. He takes off the blindfold victoriously, and he guesses his reward is his eyes meeting the mirror.
Harry’s stunning. He’s always known this, it’s not news. But.
The red dress she brought is clearly money well spent; it frames her hourglass figure, going just above the knees in waves. Tony doesn’t really know how to describe the details in the dress since it’s not like he went to fashion shows for the collection, but he does know, without a doubt, that Harry is breath-taking.
Ugh. He’s in way too deep.
It’s all the stars in his eyes mumbo jumbo that distracts him from initially seeing it. One glimpse and a double take turns his attention from the mirror to his arm- Harry’s arm.
There is a thick, deep line that travels down Harry’s forearm. As if something had purposefully lodged itself in her skin and dragged itself down.
And then it gets worse.
There’s a circle engraved on his (her) arm, almost looking like a bottomless splinter, but Tony’s attention is snappily drawn when Tony unknowingly clenches his fist. Because his hand twinges in slight pain. Curiously, he inspects the problem, bringing the hand to his eyes to see it clearer.
Words are lazily written across in faded handwriting.
I must not tell lies.
Tony feels ill.
How has he never noticed this before? It’s not like Harry never wears short sleeves, he’s seen her in tank tops, tube tops, he can go on with the tops and dresses and clothes that reveal her arms and hands and-
It must be magic.
“You ready?” Harry calls from next door, halting Tony’s thought process of oh my god this is awful this isn’t right who would do this who would dare-
“Coming.” Tony says. He takes a lingering glance at the- wounds- and places a soft kiss on where the marks are. It’s weird, he feels self-conscious doing it, and yet he can’t stop himself from the action, and knows he’d do it again.
Who would dare.
-----------------
“So, you done it yet?” Rhodey asks Harry as they’re waiting. She’s wearing Tony’s tux and looks absolutely dashing; it’s a shame she can’t linger in front of the mirror, or stare at Tony unabashedly.
“Done what?”
Rhodey’s look implies she needs to cut the bullshit. It’s bloody difficult to cut something she has no idea about.
“Want me to spell it out for you? Damn, never thought you were a chicken, Tony.”
“A confused chicken.”
It’s odd being around Rhodey, when he looks at her with such complete and utter trust. She has to remember that she is Tony, and yet the way he’s looking at her reminds Harry of her own family back home.
Notably, it’s a different look from when they had first met. The last time they had chatted, Rhodey oozed warning in his eyes when he had bluntly told her there would be consequences if she ever hurt Tony.
Harry had been delighted.
“I’m going on a limb here and guessing the move making’s been at an all-time low.”
….What.
“Move making.” She says distantly. And blimey, they’ve been letting what’s going on between them fester, haven’t they?
“You trying to be British? You both spend way too much time together. Not enough to have a believable accent though.”
Well, that’s just rude.
“My British accent is of top quality, thank you very much for your input.”
The door in the bathroom opens, Tony emerging in the cute red dress Harry had picked out.
“You look presentable.” Harry sighs in relief, then yelps as she feels the sharp stab of Rhodey’s elbow. He gives her an odd look, and then a softer one towards Tony. Well, Harry.
Oh.
“I mean you look pretty.” She amends. Also said in an American accent (how rude.) Rhodey rolls his eyes and compliments Harry too, which makes up for his slight against her lovely voice.
Tony nods sincerely. “I really do.” His gaze piercing, though his smile seems forced, and Harry doesn’t understand why. Perhaps it’s due to the body swapping, get it together Potter.
Rhodey once again gives both of them an odd look. “You’re both weirdos. It’s official.”
----------------
The party is huge.
Seriously, it’s massive. It’s overcompensating, except Tony no longer has a penis to overcompensate for, so. But still.
“How did you set this up?” He asks Rhodey, a bit nerved of what his fluffy chihuahua can accomplish. Rhodey scoffs a bit at that, which is relieving. He’s too young to find out his BFF’s become the Godfather. Not that he wouldn’t support it, it’s part of the friendship code, but they’d definitely have words.
“Oh, I did the bare minimum. Girl called Summer suggested it to me. I suggested it to the Stark Industries PR- her name’s Cyndie, buy her something nice, Tony. Not chocolates though, she’s on a diet.”
He’s confused about that, because Summer? He must have it wrong. A question for another time- it’s not like he’s gonna question it with Harry next to him looking like she wants to say someone but probably shouldn’t.
I must not tell lies.
“Tony.” His head whips up, and yet Rhodey’s attention is solely on Harry. Which makes sense, yeah. Still stings a bit. “I didn’t think the party would be this big. I asked for something low key.” He looks genuinely regretful. “I’m sorry, man.”
Harry smiles at him. “Don’t be. It’s a very out of body experience.”
Tony snorts, some of his bad mood slowly evaporating.
I must not tell lies.
Shaking his head (her head, okay that’s getting annoying) he takes Harry’s hand- oh it’s so weird holding his own hand like this, what the hell, and moves forward to the red carpet in front of them.
“You good?” He asks her. She seems a bit dazed, watching the cameras flashing on the side-lines, the calling of names. (He’s not looking forward to any of it: the fake people, the fake sympathy the fake fake fake.)
Harry squeezes his hand reassuringly. Next to him, Rhodey glimpses at their entwined hands and looks like he’s refraining from laughing. He seems weirdly pleased, though.
They storm through the carpet like an anti climactic stampede, avoiding the cameras as much as possible. The three of them all heave a breath of relief when they’re inside, only to glance around in awe at the sheer size of it all over again.
He loses both Rhodey and Harry to the crowd five minutes in.
Shit.
---------------------
Hiding in the stalls is rather useless, but she has to get away for a while. Everyone latches themselves on Tony Stark like a leech, as if they can suck fame from him and on to them from association. It’s sickening, it’s irritating, it’s motivating enough for Harry to politely excuse the suck ups and find somewhere to sit. And since the party’s only just begun, no one is drawn to the toilet.
She manages a good five minutes of peace before she hears voices.
“Those burgers were disgusting,” a boy- she’s heard him before, he’s one of the leeches if she isn’t mistaken- enters the bathroom, a few other footsteps following behind him. “Fucking cheddar cheese, man. I thought parties were supposed to have food that was edible.”
The sound of laughter trails behind the complaint; Harry isn’t surprised to find that Tony’s not the only one people suck up to.
Another voice pipes up, leering. “What’d you expect? You know Stark, he was probably drunk when he planned the whole thing.”
“Ouch!” The Alpha of the little group laughs. “Damn, whiskey makes you a dick. You should probably use that when you break up with Cecilia.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Calm down man, it was a joke. It’s not like you can do better. Though I’d keep her away from Stark. Guy’s a leg spreader.”
“You gonna talk about Stark all night? Dude, you’re obsessed.”
“Yes, he certainly is.”
All heads turn to Harry, walking from the stall to the sink. She turns the tap on, washing her hands even though they’re not dirty, and smirks when she glances at the mirror: Tony Stark casually washing his hands with mixed expressions of horror behind him.
Not that she feels casual about what’s just been said.
“Are you being nasty about me? At my own party, no less.”
The humour in the room is instantly and completely drained, as if a Dementor decided to make an unwanted appearance. The boys’ faces whiten, each one shuffling and looking anywhere else but her.
Harry quirks an eyebrow, savouring the moment when cruelty catches up with the ignorant.
“We were just”- one of the boys begins to speak, false cockiness injected into his tone.
“Bitching about the person you’ve been sucking up to all night?”
No one says anything.
“Is that not what happened?” She presses.
“We,” the supposed alpha of the group swallows, significantly more ruffled then he was a few seconds ago. “Weren’t talking about you. Come on man, loosen up.”
“You weren’t talking about me? I’m so sorry. If you have the time, can you introduce me to the other Tony Stark?”
Once again, it is silent.
Harry would be enjoying this, if it weren’t for the scorn swelling within her.
“We might have, tripped over our words? We weren’t thinking.”
“How clumsy.”
Harry looks at all of them in independent stares, content when none of them can look her in the eye very long.
“Have a good night. Drive home safe.”
Even when she’s closed the door on her way out, she hears none of them say anything.
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Tony has had enough of being a girl.
Seriously, the gig’s not for him. He knows what it’s like to be ogled, but the amount of people that have glued their eyes to his chest is insane. And yes, he’s definitely stared at many a cleavage in his time, but he never realised how irritating and gross it can get. Besides, he only did that to girls who by the end of the night were straddling his lap. Not that it was right of him to begin-
Ugh. He’s learning a valuable lesson, isn’t he?
Harry’s been swarmed away from him, which is truly a flat-out nightmare. Not only is his body disassociated from him which is creepy as hell, he won’t dig deeper on that mindset- but he’s lost Harry. And he doesn’t want to brag or anything, but Harry is on par with him in acting like she knows what she’s doing. He kind of needs that little nudge forward at this current moment in time.
Because everyone here is a pervert. A progressively drunk pervert.
(Also, attacking people would get him kicked out. Damn, he needs his body back ASAP.)
So after he declares all males to have a stray eye, plus multiple females as a side note, he hides in the bathroom for a little bit. Schmoozing and boozing isn’t his thing right now. Besides, who says putting your head under a hair dryer isn’t fun? It beats staring at a certain arm and hand.
I must not tell lies.
“Excuse me?” A voice pipes up. Tony realises that in his hassle to escape perverts, he’s gone into a ladies room.
Irony can be an old hag, if he’s putting everything out there.
Tony turns to the familiar voice, to see a girl next to him. He then does a double take, because that’s Summer.
Oh shit. He totally forgot about Summer.
“Su- um, have we met?”
Her eyes light up in interest. He can see why Madonna claims the British accent.
“No. I saw you coming in with Tony.”
He wants to make a quite frankly hilarious comment. But he also doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong end of the stick and decide to dislike Harry.
“Yep. Tony’s my friend.”
My man.
Summer hums, giving her a piercing stare.
“Are you by any chance Summer Bain?” Tony asks, hating awkward silences. He should have said nothing, though. He’s not really in the mood to talk to Summer Bain.
“Tony’s spoken about me?” Her smirk widens. “He’s shown you pictures?”
Tony keeps the smile firmly in place. For some reason, he’s against whatever Summer’s implying. “Yeah, the group one in that MIT lab? You look so different without glasses.”
When her smirk falls, Tony counts that as a win.
“You know,” Summer begins, sounding slyer than he remembers. Though in all fairness, he was too star struck to really listen at how she phrased things. “Tony and I are…well, I don’t want to come across as a bitch or anything, but Tony and I are an item.”
Um. No.
What?
“I beg your pardon?” Tony says carefully, because he may have had a huge crush on her before the whole- crash, whatever- but Summer had barely spoken to him. If anything, he’s surprised she knows he exists (yes him, Tony Stark is saying this), let alone suggested a party for him. Oh and, apparently, they’re an item
Did he have amnesia? Nah, he’s fairly certain she’s taken a dive into Crazy Lake.
Summer hums again, something vicious flashing in the slope of her grin. “Who do you think planned this party?”
He doesn’t know…Rhodey?
Another thought slams into him. “Did you follow me to the bathroom?”
Summer shrugs like it’s not weird. “I waited outside. You took too long.”
“This is very dramatic.” He observes.
Summer begins to wash her hands. (She didn’t even pee, what is happening?) “I just wanted to tell you, before you’re led on by him. Believe me, you’re just a way to pass the time, a shiny new toy he picked up in Europe that he’ll get bored of in no time.”
Is she well?
He wants to clench his fists, but he can’t give her the satisfaction. Plus, any reminder of Harry’s hand doesn’t inspire any form of good will within him.
Summer doesn’t even know him. She knows nothing about him, and absolute nil about Harry. Fuck, What Would Harry Do?
Harry would say something, wouldn’t she? Something clever, if she even deigned to think the ass was worth her time.
It can’t be a repeat of last time, when they went to that Book Convention. How he said nothing when that horrible woman talked shit about his own fucking mom, how he let that comment slide, how he felt disgusted within the confines of a bathroom stall.
No. It can’t be.
“Great! Thanks for the heads up, consider me floored. No. that’s a terrible word. Flabbergasted? I love that word, brings back old memories. Oh! You know what? How about we join Tony? He can properly introduce us, join us together and all that. We’ll camp somewhere, sing kumbaya, eat some s’mores. I love s’mores, are there any at this party?”
Summer puts a lot of soap on her hands, scrubbing them together with slight maliciousness.
“I agreed to meet him after the party. Our relationship is private.”
Who what where?
“Can’t be that private, if you’re off telling random girls you stalked into a bathroom.”
Summer’s cheeks blaze, spreading to the tips of her ears. It’s funny: he used to think her blush was so god damn cute. It’s a shame she’s let him down. He looks at her cheeks now and feels close to nothing.
Damn, he really can’t rely on people these days.
“You had to know.”
“Nah. You just had to make sure I backed off, since apparently you decided Tony’s yours. You make him sound like someone who treats people badly to suit his own purposes. And yeah, maybe I-he’s slept around, maybe he’s had flings, done things he isn’t proud of. But to make him sound like a two dimensional prick who treats you like dirt…How’d you claim you’re an item, when from the looks of it, it seems like you don’t know him at all?”
He doesn’t wait for any snarky reply she sends his way. While she’s too busy contorting her face to look like he hasn’t affected her, he leaves the room, pride whipping through him like a salute.
It feels good.
---------------
Harry would honestly rather have stayed in the bathroom and continued her verbal lashing at those arses rather than stay out in the open.
Everyone here either acts like Tony Stark is what comes out of a rainbow or pretends they don’t know him at all. It’s either rude or abysmally fake; at least in the Wizarding World people seemed genuinely impressed with Harry. There is none of that here.
Do they not realise how amazing Tony is? Do they not understand just how special he is and will be?
People swarm around her for the next couple of hours. It’s either mindless flattery or pitiful condolences.
Your father was a good man. We hope you can maintain his legacy. Your father was a legend walking. Your father was a pioneer.
No one mentions his mother. It’s…it’s saddening.
Harry nods and smiles and laughs and wants to find Tony. There is a distraction however, when a hand slaps her back. Harry barely refrains from flinching, turning around to see who has no boundaries.
She’s greeted with the sight of an older man. This strikes her, since the party is either filled with young people or members of staff. After a subtle search regarding his clothes and visage, this man is neither.
“Tony,” the man says mirthfully. He has a soft fuzz of hair left on his scalp, sports a beard, and is tall enough to loom over both her and Tony’s height range.
No panicking, there are simple ways to find out who people are without them realising ignorance plays a key role.
“It’s been a while.” Harry begins slowly, painting a sunny smile on her face. Then, to be Tony: “You’ve aged.”
The man emits a booming, short sprout of laughter, a hand holding his chest comically. It’s incredibly fake, Harry notes. Her eyes discreetly rove round the party in search of Tony.
Well. Of her, really.
She finds nothing. Where is he?
“You haven’t changed, have you?” The man asks, almost seeming pleased about that. When he sees the drink in her hand, his smile widens. “Enjoying the party?”
Who is this?
She decides to cut to the chase. “What are you doing here?”
The man’s smile instantly dims, a face of mock betrayal taking over. “Can’t an old man come see his favourite nephew? Don’t worry kid, I was just dropping by.”
Nephew?
Oh! This is Tony’s uncle! Ah, yes, Tony mentioned. Merlin, what is his name? Oliver? Otis? Orlando? Ob-
Obie.
Got it.
“Especially when he hasn’t seen him in months,” Obie? Obie, adds, sending him a look. It’s different to Rhodey’s slight anger and concern, though. Obie doesn’t seem to have lost much sleep over worrying, if she’s honest.
“You should have let me know you went to Europe, Tony. We’re a team, now more than ever.”
“I know, I’m sorry about that. It was a very sudden decision. Spontaneous.” She’s not completely sure how to act around Tony’s uncle. Considering that while she’s heard raves about Rhodey, any mentioning of Obie has almost seemed like a hesitant afterthought. It’s a topic of wondering.
Obie flaps a hand. “Forgive and forget, kid. After what you’ve been through…touring a continent is the least I would do. And hey, who said drinking wasn’t fun?”
The way he throws that comment so casually has a pit of anger festering in her stomach.
“Your father would be proud of you,” Obie declares, giving her another sharp pat on the back; if Harry was drinking just now, the impact of his hand would have sent the liquid flying from her mouth. “Not letting that whole accident bring you down. I admire you for that.”
Harry puts the cup she’s holding on a table nearby, in favour of not crinkling it with her clenched palm.
The way he’s so easily talking about something that he knows would upset anyone, especially so fresh after Tony’s pain…it’s vile. And subtly manipulative, if she thinks about it. The rubbing of salt onto a wound in an environment where alcohol is certainly not scarce, and something that played a huge role in Tony’s trauma…It’s immoral.
(Harry’s read between the lines. Tony never gets into a car with alcohol present.)
And this man deigns to call himself Tony’s uncle?
She would know a thing or two about bad uncles.
“I’m strong.” She tells Obie sincerely, once she’s found her words. “I will get through this. It’s who I am.”
Obie regards her for a long while. When he grins, she notices it doesn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m glad. Howard would be pleased; the company needs you Tony. The brain of Stark Industries.”
“I know,” she informs him simply, smiling with one too many teeth. She doesn’t know when this became a silent fight; Harry hopes it’s only a mindset she’s adopted during this conversation.
Obie places a hand on her shoulder, giving it a rough squeeze. Cameras are flashing all around the party; these two facts intertwine easily into Harry’s thoughts. It reminds her of Lockhart.
Smile for the camera, darling. They love us.
“I should be going.” Obie says. “Your present’s on the pile. Have fun tonight, Tony.” He gives her one last sweeping, idle gaze before he turns to the exit, leaving Harry to exhale a breath she only now realises she’d been holding.
---------------------
“Speech!” Some total git shouts, probably pissed from all the drinks. It sends a domino effect, people all over begin to bellow until it’s a choir of “Speech! Speech!” All around, like she’s trapped in a dome of pressuring wankers. If Harry was in her own body, she’d bang her head against a wall.
Then again, if she was in her own body, she wouldn’t have to.
An arm tugs her (some random girl who eagerly smiles when the flashes of cameras snap her way) and leads Harry next to the mountainous cake, the centre of the stage. Cheers, catcalls and whistles bloom all over the room and echo, everyone in sight seems focused on her with rapt attention.
Well.
Harry looks all over in search of her own body, freaking out when she can’t even see a flash of her red dress. This is terrifying. It reminds her of the following weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts.
Make a speech, Harry. How did it feel defeating You-Know-Who once and for all? What would your parents say about all of this?
They would tell you to do one, she had wanted to say.
Harry shakes out of her thoughts, because this is really not about her, this is about Tony. Tony, who deserves to be recognised as who he is: a good man. It is not her place to show people that, she knows. It’s just irritating, the shit she’s heard tonight.
They don’t know him. None of them do.
“Thank you all for coming.” She begins confidently, trying now more than ever to sound American. “You all look great. Who’s having fun?”
There are cheers at that, it warms Harry up, gets her going.
“Look, I’m keeping this short since long speeches are for professors.” She actually gets laughs at that, but for the quality of the joke or the amount of fame Tony has, she won’t think about that too much. “Just….”
A sudden warmth emerges in her as she sees her own body in the audience- Tony’s soul as bright as the flashing of cameras. He gives her a wink, a soft, encouraging smile firmly sitting on his face. Her face. Whatever.
“You’re amazing.” She tells the audience, but her stare is fixedly on Tony. “I’m really glad you’re here. So glad.”
I’m so glad I met you.
She tilts her head, leering at her current enthusiastically clapping audience. “Shall we get really drunk?”
They seem to like that idea.
------------------------
He doesn't manage to find Harry after the speech (the assumption is she’s being squeezed by members of the Kiss Tony Stark’s Ass Club- he's actually kind of glad he's not in his body tonight, though he'll never tell Harry that) but he beams when he sees the faint outline of the one and only Rhodey.
“Hey,” Rhodey greets. He looks freer in the atmosphere, his Rhodey is so hard working that it’s almost painful to watch. It’s also depressing how he’s looking at him. He doesn’t want the slight guardedness in his posture, he wants Rhodey to come at him with an embrace.
“You’re leaving?” He asks, the excellent banter forcibly contained in his brain. It’s still his brain, not Harry’s.
“Yeah. Leaving tomorrow for work. Tell Tony I’m seeing him for breakfast, though. I’ll drag his hungover ass out the door, I don’t care.”
“I’ll send him the message.” He grins.
Rhodey grins back, but it’s edged, as if there’s something he has to say.
“Spit it out, Rhodeykins,” he says without thinking. Ah, damn it.
Rhodey seems momentarily surprised, but then he laughs a deep open sound that Tony treasures. He’s always trying to make his chicken soup cackle. It’s an addiction.
“God, you two are gonna be hell on earth, that’s for sure.”
“You think I’m here in the future?”
Rhodey’s gaze is assessing. “Do you not?” His voice daring him to argue otherwise. Tony’s touched, and kind of scared for Hare Bare.
“Of course I want.” (He hopes she wants.)
“Good. You know, I told Tony to make a move.”
Tony tries to look shocked. “Oh!”
“But it can go both ways.”
His shock this time round is more genuine. “Oh.”
Rhodey’s never beaten around the bush, has he? “You guys have something going on. It’d be stupid to do nothing about it, right? Besides, what better day to do it then his birthday? I’m not trying to push anything. Just think about it.”
Tony nods, surprisingly in complete agreement.
Rhodey smiles easily at him. “It was nice to meet you, Harry. I’m seeing you again soon, don’t be a stranger.”
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She finds Tony eventually, once most of the people have gone. It's been a long night, but it being just them in a room makes her feel as if nothing's really happened at all.
“So,” Harry says, walking over to him. It still feels so peculiar walking around in a different body. Especially a body she’s been admiring for months.
“So,” Tony echoes.
“It should wear off soon.” Is said to fill in the heavy beat.
“Aww. It’s gonna be weird, switching back. Finally got used to the whole no-penis display.”
Harry tries not to squirm at that, because if Harry’s bladder wasn’t alarmingly huge, she wouldn’t be able to look Tony in the eye.
There’s also an unpleasant weight in her movement. It’s bloody weird, that’s for sure.
“No one can accuse you of being unadaptable.”
“I should design chameleon armour. Just saying, imagine blending in so efficiently you’d overhear some wild shit. Mafia dealings, you know? I could build a whole empire- actually that’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had.”
“It definitely says a lot about your other ideas.” Harry agrees. “I’ll save you time with the chameleon armour, though. I have an invisibility cloak somewhere in England.”
Tony stares. “…I’ll assume that makes you invisible, reading between the lines and all that. We need to get to my lab. How have you not mentioned this before? I- it’s bad enough you haven’t shown me your broomstick- not a euphemism- I’m digressing, sorry, force of habit, I’m terrible at staying on track, seriously, look at my dissertation, the marker called it a ‘structured mess’, swear to god.”
“What are you digressing about?” Harry asks, a tad stunted at Tony’s rambling coming from her mouth. That and the American accent never fail to throw her off the loop.
“I talked to Rhodey,” he announces, his teasing grin fading into something softer. “He, well, he didn’t know it was me, obviously, he just thought we’re a match made in heaven- anyway, he opened my eyes.”
Harry cocks her head. “Oh?”
Tony scratches the back of his head. (Her head- it doesn’t matter.) “Yeah.” He must see something in her expression, because he straightens his posture, looking resolute.
“Remember when we were running from Patrick, both slamming our body weight on those doors?” It’s a mood killer, but Harry nods.
“We had that whole confession thing- adorable by the way, looking back- digressing, whoops. And then I said you were alright.”
Harry inclines her head, anticipating something unidentifiable.
“Well I said it cause I meant it. Because if we had to redo that whole admission spiel, I would have said travelling with you is just awesome. I used to think the universe didn’t like me very much- I mean, I know I shouldn’t think the universe is an entity with feelings because science- but I can’t help it, I couldn’t help it. I’m starting to think maybe the universe has some cute agenda, because of you. Because if you’re here, well, my life is actually pretty fucking great. What I’m trying to say is that you were right. I’m totally your man, and if you wanted, you could be my girl. Even if you never fixed that air conditioner.”
Harry’s lips have parted, the smallest puffs of air coming out. She doesn’t know what to say to this, she doesn’t know how to tell him how she feels without repeating his speech. The tug in her chest is almost unbearably painful but she welcomes it, lets it overpower her.
“I’ll fix the air conditioner,” is all she breathes out.
Harry’s never been good with words, case in point the last thing she just said. But she’s a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. It’s this belief that causes her to approach Tony, uncaring of the Body Situation, and presses her lips against his.
Tony’s surprised, she knows, as for the first second she doesn’t receive a response from him; he’s similar to that of a statue. It’s strange being in this body for this- Harry has to dip down on the impact, fully realising how very short she is for the first time- but she’s mentioned she doesn’t care about that, why should she start now?
Tony’s unresponsiveness doesn’t last long. He suddenly leans deeper into the kiss (Merlin she’s kissing Tony) and cradles her head closer to his, if that’s even possible. Harry’s brain short circuits at that and she loses herself into the moment; their lips practically moulded together in sweeping motions. Tony’s mouth parts open and so does Harry’s, she makes a delighted sound when their tongues meet and slam together almost daringly.
She then freezes, because her noise of approval sounded distinctly feminine.
When she opens her eyes, it’s to meet Tony, Tony’s body Tony’s eyes Tony’s dazed grin as he stares down at her.
“Kind of depressing the spell wore off,” he says, his voice coming across as rather hoarse. His arms are wrapped around her firmly, and Harry is unsure when that happened. “Kissing myself was an ultimate fantasy of mine. Well hey, at least now I know I’m a fabulous kisser. You’re average I guess. Five out of ten.”
“Don’t be a git. Come back here.”
When he meets her lips again, Harry feels his smile against her own.
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Probably the most interesting piece of information taken from Stark’s birthday bash happened at the glamorous red carpet put in place. Pictures have been snapped of Stark alongside friend James Rhodes, but pictures also reveal a girl next to Stark, who has yet to be identified.
“They’re very close,” an inside scoop tells all. “I saw them in a room together dancing alone. Like, swaying while making out. They’re totally a thing.”
Does known Bachelor Tony Stark have a love interest in his life? Unfortunately, all snaps of the supposed love interest have been blurred, her face unseen. Who could this mystery girl be? Read next week’s column to find out who we suspect!
C. Everhart.