Chapter Text
Chapter 1 – Ticking Down
There was something almost soothing about being on the edge of an apocalypse, though Harry knew that anyone would think he was crazy if he expressed the thought out loud. The sense of urgency brought on by impending doom was something that he had lived with for most of his life. He had left when it had grown to be too much, but a part of him, the ‘hero’ part he assumed, had missed it.
So if he was caught sprawled in one of the lounge chairs on Tony’s balcony staring out at the skyline with a ruminating smile on his face, that was the reason why.
And honestly, he didn’t think that it was anyone’s business but his.
Tony disagreed, which was saying it mildly. He was quick to distract Harry whenever he noticed that he’d been drawn into his thoughts for too long. Tony, who had all the subtlety of a tutu wearing rhino painted cherry red and gold, had been wary of leaving him on his own, which hadn’t been much of an issue until recently. The past few days had been full of last minute alterations but now they were playing the waiting game. Harry had prepared his counter wards as best he could and the transmitter was ready to go. After endless hours in each other’s company, Harry had begun to chafe and so he occasionally pulled away for some alone time.
“Oh there you are!”
Which Tony consistently interrupted.
Harry covered his eyes for a moment and took the time to carefully swallow his annoyance. He understood, really he did. If Tony had died for a week and been magically brought back to life, he would stick a little close too. So there was no reason to kill Tony, no reason at all.
The billionaire dropped down into the chair next to his, and wordlessly handed Harry a beer.
“Was the movie that boring?” Harry asked, immediately picking at the label.
“Eh. I was more interested in where you’d run off to,” Tony said, tone pointedly casual.
“Tony…”
“Plus Bruce fell asleep and started to snore. No one likes to be around for that.”
Harry sighed and turned his attention back onto the skyline.
“Are you going to tell me what’s up or do I have to start guessing? Because I totally will.”
“Please god no,” Harry intoned. Then louder he said, “Do you ever think about dying?”
“I try not to, but yeah. I think everyone does,” Tony answered easily. “Why? Is that what’s bothering you?”
Harry frowned. A part of him just wanted to tell Tony. Not only would the secret finally be off his chest, but then Tony could stop worrying. The other man was going to find out anyway. It was only a matter of time. Tentatively, Harry drew a breath, only to stop when he felt something wet and slightly oily land on the back of his hand. He looked down, eyes narrowed at the viscous black liquid that was beginning to fall from the sky. An instant later his skin began to burn, like he’d splashed hot grease on himself.
“The hell –!” Tony bleated.
Harry tugged the other man to his feet and practically tossed him in the direction of the balcony doors. He followed close behind, vacating the balcony right before the stuff really started coming down. Both of them stood there in stunned silence before Steve’s voice startled them into movement.
“Guys!” he barked from the media room. “Come look at this.”
The television had been switched over from the movie that had been playing to the local news.
“…reports of a black rain that burns when it touches skin but it doesn’t appear to be doing any structural damage. We advise that you seek shelter inside until otherwise advised.”
They watched with varying degrees of horrified bewilderment as the television showed footage of the black rain falling over the city, and the span of damage it could do to human skin. Harry was so enthralled that he was unprepared for Tony to grab at his hand.
“Bruce,” the billionaire called intently.
It was enough for everyone to look over and their faces darkened when faced with the creeping burn marks on the back of Harry’s hand and arm.
Bruce jumped to his feet, grabbing Harry’s other arm and towing him into the kitchen.
“Jarvis,” Tony demanded.
“Analysis of the substance reveals that it is a phosphazene class super base. I would recommend --.”
“Vinegar!” Bruce snapped, but Tony was already tearing the cupboards apart.
Bruce and Clint guided Harry into one of the tall bar chairs while Steve and Natasha hovered and tried not to get in the way. Harry sighed and let them fuss, complicatedly resting his arm on the countertop. Tony offered Bruce the bottle of vinegar and Bruce carefully went about splashing it on the worse of the burn.
“The pain should be easing up,” Bruce said, glancing into Harry’s face before refocusing on his arm.
“I’ve had worse,” Harry said. “But yeah. It feels better.”
Bruce rolled his eyes, and continued to splash vinegar over the worst of the burn until the bottle was depleted. Then he carefully lifted Harry’s arm by the wrist, examining the burn with grim fascination.
“Bandages,” he demanded to the group.
Natasha peeled off to rifle through their well stocked first aid kit. She passed a roll over and Bruce began to wrap them around Harry’s wrist, forearm, and fingers.
“What do you think that stuff is?” Clint asked, motioning at one of the windows.
“Preemptive strike,” Harry said with a shrug.
Bruce finally looked up from Harry’s hand, calling it good enough. “How’s the pain?” he asked. “And be honest.”
Harry flexed his fingers, wrinkling his nose as sharp prickles traveled up and down his arm. Bruce was watching him carefully, and so easily caught the subtle show of discomfort. He didn’t even need to ask; Natasha tossed over an orange prescription bottle. Harry eyed it distastefully.
“No.”
“You’re in pain,” Bruce said patiently as he shook out two white pills. “It’s codeine. Perfectly harmless.”
Steve had already filled a glass and offered it up with an unrelenting look on his face. Harry looked around and saw that he wouldn’t get help from anyone, even Tony. He rolled his eyes, but took the stupid pills.
The silence was interrupted by Thor, who entered the kitchen with a bemused look on his face.
“Are we not picking another movie to watch?” He examined Harry’s wounded arm with concern. “What has happened?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Harry said before anyone else could. “Let’s go watch the movie.”
Tony caught on, and started herding everyone out of the kitchen, even Bruce. He lingered, raising his eyebrows at Harry who wanted nothing more than to disappear into his room for a while. The expression on Tony’s face said that that was unlikely to happen, and if Harry had learned anything over the years, he’d learned that he had to pick his battles.
*
Harry was wily, but Tony was a freaking genius. Not to say that Harry was incapable of holding his own; he was a bit of a genius too. Unfortunately for Harry, Tony’s particular brand of genius included the ability to annoy the piss out of just about anyone. He protested, but Tony was pretty certain that Harry found him amusing most of the time.
It was his saving grace, because if Harry really wanted to, he could have blasted Tony out of all existence. There was so much punch in his tiny and assuming package, but Tony knew all about appearances - all about masks and how to wear them. Only idiots relied on book covers alone.
And hello? Tony equals genius.
So Tony wasn’t fooled. He knew that Harry could take care of himself most of the time. He was probably better at looking after himself than Tony was, though he would never admit that out loud (double true if Pepper was lurking around.) Sometime though, more and more frequently before this whole world ending business began, Tony had begun to see that cover shift. He’d seen glimpses of a man who had seemed intrinsically lonely. He’d recognized that loneliness. As fruity as it sounded, it had called to him.
But all altruistic notions aside, Harry had been interesting, and Tony was nothing if not curious.
But that loneliness had persisted. Harry was good at hiding it, but remember, Tony equals genius.
“Should we move him to his room?” Steve asked quietly.
Tony carefully shook his head, weary of shifting too much and dislodging Harry’s head. The team had fallen asleep in front of the TV, laid out in various positions in the family room. Clint stretched out over the back of the sectional was particularly hilarious, with Bruce and Thor leaning against each other coming in as a close second. At one point Harry had rested his head on Tony’s shoulder and fallen asleep that way, bandaged arm wrapped around his middle, burnt fingers brushing involuntarily against Tony’s side.
“Move him and he’ll wake up,” Tony explained quietly.
Steve was eyeing the both of them, the question clear in his gaze. Tony huffed slightly and ignored it. The good Cap eyed him for one moment more before he shrugged and got to his feet.
“Well I’m going to bed,” he said.
As soon as he’d disappeared down one of the hallways, Clint heaved a long sigh from on the back of the sectional.
“So are you guys together or what?”
“I knew you couldn’t actually be asleep,” Tony hissed. “And keep it down.”
“You totally are.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, we’re not together.”
“But you’d like to be?”
Tony rolled his eyes and slumped down slightly, Harry’s head settling higher on his shoulder and their bodies resting more comfortably against each other.
“You guys are totally married.”
Tony drew in a breath, no doubt to say something cutting, but a short distressed sound from Harry cut him off.
“He okay?”
Tony didn’t answer right away. He examined what he could see of Harry’s expression. His brows had pulled down, and his fingers had tightened their grip on Tony’s shirt.
“He’s fine,” Tony said confidently, hoping that he wasn’t telling a lie.
*
“It must be important if you’re visiting me in my sleep.”
Death’s face was pulled down into a severe expression. “Thanos comes,” it said without fanfare.
“What?”
Death glowered and did not repeat itself.
“Now?”
“Within hours he comes to rend, rip and offer.”
“I thought there was more time.”
“Time has fled. The moment has come.”
Harry looked up at the tall mass that he had never been able to properly describe even to himself. He now knew it to be female, at least it had the ability to appear that way. He glanced around the dreamscape, looking for a way out.
“It that all?”
Death actually hesitated, expression softening. “I … regret…”
Harry blinked in shock, giving the entity his full attention. “Regret? You regret letting that monster kill millions of beings just to get into your skirts?”
Whatever warmth had entered Death’s gaze rapidly fled. Harry crossed his arms, utterly un-intimidated.
“You are a cruel master.”
“Yeah well no one ever said I was nice. Now let me wake --.” Harry nearly bit his astral tongue off as he felt a disturbance against his Occlumency shields, familiar and dreaded.
“Wake-me-up. Wake-me-up-right-now!”
*
Harry woke up swinging, on his feet and moving before his eyes were even open. There were voices, but he only heard them distantly. There were hands but he brushed them off, fighting to get to a window.
“He’s heading toward the balcony!”
“Harry!”
He started, hand wrapped around the handle to the balcony doors. Tony was squeezed in-between him and the doors, arresting hands on his shoulders, saying his name over and over. He stopped when Harry frowned at him.
“Awake?”
“I’m fine,” Harry said faintly.
“Yeah sure.”
“It might’ve been the pills,” Bruce said quietly on Harry’s other side. He carefully wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and began leading him to the couch.
“No,” Harry snapped groggily. “Something’s happening. The wards --.”
Suddenly Steve face was filling his vision, Tony pushed aside as the team leader absorbed Harry’s words.
“I thought we had more time.”
“They’ve started,” Harry said dully. “We have a day, two at most. Thanos is on his way. It’s all starting.
Bruce finally succeeded in guiding Harry away from the rest of the team and onto the couch. As the moments ticked by, Harry regained more and more of his facilities, and tried to get to his feet. Bruce’s firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“I’m fine,” he finally snapped.
“You’re high on pain meds. I know what that looks like,” Tony said unhelpfully.
“I have to --.”
“You said we had a day?” Clint asked from over by the balcony. “I don’t think a few hours will hurt.”
He glanced at Natasha for confirmation, and she nodded.
“You must rest Harry, before you harm yourself,” Thor put in.
They all looked to Steve, who was staring down at the top of Harry’s head with a heavy frown. He glanced over at Tony, who gave a little shake of his head.
“A few hours couldn’t hurt,” he said grudgingly.
Tony surged forward, sitting down next to Harry and ducking under one of his arms. “Let’s get you into bed,” he said and carefully stood, an arm wrapped around Harry’s waist. But stress had taken its toll, and Harry’s chin dipped down to rest against his chest, eyes closed.
“You with us buddy?” Tony asked worriedly.
Harry tried to say, ‘yes of course, get off me.’ Instead, he could only groan.
Bruce ducked down and stared down into Harry’s face, reaching out with one steady hand to check the pulse in his neck, ignoring Harry’s abortive little twitch.
“He’s okay,” he assured the group. “He’s been though a lot. It’s easy to forget that he died and came back a few weeks ago, and who knows how that affects the body. He’s been using his magic pretty heavily too.”
“He should be put to his rest,” Thor said, making a point of speaking quietly.
Tony nodded in agreement and began to gather up Harry’s plaint limbs, preparing to lift him.
“Do you need help Stark?” Steve asked, and was already reaching out to take Harry’s weight.
“Uh, no,” Tony said with a little smirk. “I’ve got it.”
He scooped Harry up, seemingly with no issues at all.
“Put me down,” Harry grumbled into Tony’s shirt but his eyes were still closed, and his efforts to free himself were negligible.
“Sure, sure,” Tony said quietly. “As soon as you’re in bed, I’ll put you right down.”
He began to make his way down the hallway. Before the two of them were out of earshot, the others heard Tony mutter, “This is so blackmail material.”
“That time you decided to experiment with bioluminescence…” Harry said groggily. “Naked dancing.”
“Must you bring that up every time?” Tony squeaked and sounded profoundly embarrassed.
If the conversation continued the others couldn’t hear it. Steve slumped slightly, running a hand over his face.
“It’s not all that bad,” Clint said confidently. “He’ll be fine in the morning. He can work his mojo and everything will be fine.”
“I didn’t realize how much depends on him until just now. I can understand Fury’s frustration,” Steve said.
“Harry is strong and brave,” Thor said confidently. “He will not allow himself to fail us.”
“That’s not all together good either,” Natasha said. “He’s a civilian. A very powerful civilian, but still a civilian.”
“Are we talking about the same kid here?” Clint muttered. “He’s harder than most career soldiers. If he’s a civilian, I’ll shoot myself in the face.”
“You know what I meant,” Natasha said with a little frown. “He’s not obligated to help.”
“Neither is Stark,” Steve reminded them. “Neither is Thor, or Bruce.”
“What exactly are you trying to say here?” Bruce asked Natasha without looking up from his own knuckles. “Are you saying that he’s not to be trusted because he doesn’t answer to S.H.I.E.L.D?”
“I’m just wondering what happens when things get too hard. What happens if Potter decides that he doesn’t what to deal with all this anymore?”
“We will never had need to discover what will happen, because it will not happen,” Thor said in a tone that conveyed the end of the matter.
Bruce nodded and got to his feet. “What he said.”
Natasha glanced at Steve, the only person who’d turned thoughtful at her words. He caught her looking and gave a little shrug.
*
The next morning, Harry rolled out of bed a good few hours later than he usually did, which was still pretty early considering. He stumbled into the kitchen, and sat with his head on the counter. Natasha was already up, and working on making a pot of coffee.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked as he placed a mug at his elbow.
Harry reached out blindly and brought the coffee to his mouth. He looked up at her and offered a tired smile.
“Thanks. Sorry about last night.”
Natasha leaned back on the counter opposite, a hand wrapped around her own mug. “Fury contacted us. We were waiting for you to get up before we headed to HQ.” She pursed her lips, examining Harry’s face. “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she finally said. “Except you should take better care of yourself.”
“I take care of myself just fine,” Harry countered automatically.
Natasha simply raised an eyebrow and took a pointed sip from her mug. Harry glowered at her. Bruce joined them next, looking disgustingly alert and proceeded to redress Harry’s arm before helping himself to some coffee. Soon after everyone arrived and caffeinated themselves Harry offered his uninjured arm for side along apparition.
“It’s faster,” he explained.
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Steve asked.
The glare that Harry offered him was more than answer enough. The very manly squeak that the Captain let slip was insanely satisfying.
*
In the end there was little to be said about the black rain, despite all of Fury’s posturing. The whole east coast had been affected, but the epicenter had been New York. Harry’s burns were minor compared to the reports that S.H.I.E.L.D was receiving. Thankfully the number of fatalities had been few.
“What do you know about this Potter?” Fury asked, his tone indicating that he was expecting only one sort of response.
“Nothing,” Harry said flatly and didn’t even feel bad about it.
“Nothing?” Fury repeated. “There’s no magical way to --.”
“I’m sure that there is,” Harry interrupted. “But there’s no reason for them to attack us. They want to stop Thanos and sure they’re willing to massacre millions of people to do it. But not for no reason.” Harry subsided, glancing up at the ceiling. “As horrible as that sounds.”
“What if this is a precursor to the death wards?”
“It’s not.” Harry said firmly. “This rain is all Thanos. They’ve started laying the foundations for the wards, but it’s not instantaneous.” Harry idly tapped his temple with one of his pointer fingers. “They tried to hide themselves but I felt them.”
Fury was silent for a long moment, scowling at Harry was hard as he could. “When were you going to mention that the wards had started to go up.”
“I just did.”
Tony snorted loudly and looked utterly unrepentant when Fury’s ire turned onto him.
“When did you first sense them?”
“Last night.”
“Why didn’t you report it then.”
Bruce spoke before Harry could. “He was injured from the black rain. There was nothing he could have done anyway.”
Fury’s scowl softened the tiniest bit, and he nodded. “Fine,” he said. “We’ve got work to do.”
*
“I’m never doing that again,” George groaned under this breath.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Yes it was. I never knew babies could be so annoying and my ears feel funny.”
Fred rolled his eyes, unseen behind George’s back. The plane ride had been long, but thankfully Fred had been able to sleep through must of it. George had been unable to get comfortable, had complained endlessly about the quality of the air, the cramped seating, the food, pretty much everything. If Fred was forced to ride in a plane again, he would certainly do so without his brother, that or drug him.
“So now what?” he asked, bags in hand and standing beside a line of honking taxis.
“We find Harry,” George said shortly and waved his hand at one of the taxis. “We’ll start in Manhattan. That’s where the worst of the damage was. Someone has to know something.”
“So what? We just walk around asking questions?”
George looked suspiciously shifty eyed, and Fred glared at him.
“You’re joking.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Fred drew in a sharp breath, intending to sprout off an idea that wasn’t completely idiotic. Unfortunately nothing came and he had to close his mouth without having said anything. George looked incredibly smug as he got into the taxi and if Fred’s elbow accidently jabbed into Georges’s ribs then it didn’t really bare mentioning.
*
“We need to get into Manhattan. I have business with the Gringotts branch here.” Bill passed over his papers, trying not to sound as frustrated as he was.
It seemed that the red tape in America was just as bad as it was in Britain. The American version of the Ministry of Magic (called the American Wizarding League – creative) was far more intergraded than its British counterpart. They had computers for one. The headquarters had been built in wizard space, physically existing in New York, Chicago and LA all at the same time. Instead of down, the American’s had built up, each incarnation of the building appearing as a different skyscraper in each city. It was all very modern, but with all the goings on in America, superheros, super villains, mutants etc, Bill supposed that the administration had to be a little more on top of things.
Unfortunately, bureaucracy was the same everywhere. Upon flooing in, Bill and Fleur had been passed from department from department, trying to get access to New York. This was the third person he’d presented his papers to.
“I see Mr. Weasley. You have been told that soon the League will remove access to the New York office’s, correct?”
“It should only take a few hours. The sooner I get in, the sooner I can complete my business, the sooner I can get home.” Bill pulled up a disarming smile, the one that usually got him what he wanted.
The American witch looked over her glasses at him for a moment, before looking down at Bills papers. Bill began to nervously twist his fingers together. Fleur, beautiful loving amazing Fleur, reached out and placed a hand over his.
“Very well, Mr. Weasley.” The witch tapped the papers with her wand and passed them back. “You have 12 hours to complete your business before you’ll lose access to headquarters. Routine maintenance on the portals I’m afraid. I would strongly suggest you finish by then, or you’ll be stuck waiting.”
Bill nodded, handing everything to Fleur so she could tuck it away. He was a bit surprised at the reasoning she’d given for why he needed to be back. The story made sense of course, but he wondered why she didn’t admit that the city was soon to be sectioned off. Even if she didn’t know about the death wards, even telling him that not only would he lose access to League Headquarters, but he’d be unable to leave the city at all, would have been better than the story she’d just given. Fleur reached out and grasped his hand against, motivating Bill to get to his feet.
He reached out and shook the woman’s hand. “Thank you Miss…” he glanced down at the plaque on her desk “Winters.”
Bill turned to Fleur, and offered her a smile. She saw right through it of course. Together, they traversed their way out of League Headquarters. They stepped out onto the sidewalks of Manhattan, hand in hand.
“Okay,” Fleur said softly. “Now what?”
And wasn’t that the million galleon question.