Chapter Text
They’d been at the orphanage for near the allotted hour, and Tony was counting down the remaining time in his head. He’d gotten… itchy, being around all the screaming and crying children in the main room, and had taken to the long, droning slate-grey hallways of the orphanage.
“Jarvis.” He said, tapping his watch and engaging his AI.
“Sir?” Jarvis replied.
“Make a generous donation to the orphanage; enough to cover some renovations. Do it anonymously.” Tony ordered.
“It’ll be done, sir.” Jarvis said.
“Good… this place is fucking depressing.” Tony said, resuming his walk down the hallway. When he reached the end, he was met with another hallway, though this one had large windows on either side of the wall, allowing the rays from the mid-morning sunshine to pour in. He intended to head down this one, as well, when he noticed a young child, not more than four or five, with their back pressed against the glass and their head buried in knees that were pulled to their chest.
“Mr. Stark? There you are.” Mrs. Trenall said behind him, sounding relieved. “We worried that you’d lost your way. Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Tony replied easily, turning slightly and giving her a smile. “Do you mind telling me who that is?” Tony asked, pointing to the huddled figure.
The woman frowned questioningly and followed his finger, her face lighting up with comprehension almost immediately when she saw who it was. “Ahh, I didn’t see him there, but that’s young Harry Evans. Tough story, that one; came to us a year ago. He doesn’t talk much, the poor dear, but… well, he was found in a police raid; aunt had sold him for drugs.”
“Is something wr-… actually, nevermind.” Tony cut himself off, feeling out of his depth.
“Is something… wrong with him, Mr. Stark?” Mrs. Trenall finished for him. “No. He’s simply a child that’s been through too much.”
She didn’t give him any time to process what she said before she hooked her arm around his and practically dragged him over to the young boy.
“Harry, my darling? This here is Tony Stark. He’d like to meet you.” She said, looking pointedly at Tony and the huddled mass, before taking a few steps back. “I’ll be just around the corner.”
Tony was opening and closing his mouth, suddenly feeling very off kilter, unsure of how to talk to a child so young. Even worse, the huddled form hadn’t moved, and if it weren’t for the telltale signs of a chest rising and falling, Tony would think he was sitting next to a rock.
“Hi, Harry… My name is Tony… Stark… like she said. Is it okay if I sit? I’m gonna sit.”Tony said the first thing that came to mind, cringing internally at how forced his voice sounded.
“You’re different from the others.” Harry muttered flatly into his knees.
“What do you mean?” Tony asked as he slumped against the wall and wiped dirt from his palms.
“Usually, people don’t notice me… especially when I don’t want to be seen.” Harry replied.
“Well, I am pretty observant, and it’s hard not to notice someone huddled up in a hallway, even a little guy like you. How old are you any ways?” Tony asked.
The boys head came up and he slowly met Tony’s eyes, and Tony felt his breathing hitch.
“I turned seven on the thirty-first of July.”
His eyes were cold, dead, and lifeless. Like someone had turned the lights off and removed their shine.
Tony was silent, unsure of what to say, or how to proceed. The kid looked haunted in his expressionless state, far beyond anything Tony had ever seen.
“That’s okay, Mr. Stark. Everyone else reacts like that, too.” Harry said quietly, tucking his face back into his knees.
“Kid, I-.” Tony started and stopped, his brain frozen and fumbling. This was just a kid, but something in his gaze had frightened the man. He needed to rally his mind, rationalize what he had seen, but before he could work through it, someone was calling for him.
“Tones? We gotta go! Where you at, brother?” Colonel James Rhodes called down the hallway.
Tony clambered to his feet and rushed around the corner to meet him.
“Hey, sorry, I just ran into another one of the kids here.” Tony said, back-pedaling and leading the man back around the corner to where he’d been sitting with Harry. Only, the kid was gone.
“Very funny, Tony. Listen, if you were just going to sneak off and not meet with the kids, you should have stayed stateside.” James scolded.
“I swear to you, Rhodey, he was just here. Tiny little thing.” Tony replied, looking around.
“Where’d he go, then?” James asked.
“I don’t know… but I want to know more about him.” Tony said, tapping his watch. “Jarvis, were you listening? Public records of Harry Evans.”
“You’re gonna dig up info on a kid? You know that’s a little weird, right, Tony?” James asked, his tone mocking.
“I’m not joking about this, Rhodey. There was something different about this one.” Tony replied.
“And you’re what, planning on... adopting? Fostering? Mentoring? Walk me through this.” James requested.
“I don’t know, man! Something feels… off. Like he needs help.” Tony replied gruffly.
Rhodey looked at him, highly skeptical, but he gave in.
“Alright, fine. But you're telling Pepper the meet and greet at Hyde Park has been cancelled, and you can also tell her why. I’m going to track the matron down, and see if I can find this mystery kid of yours.”
---
Tony hadn’t expected it to take them six hours to find him, but Harry apparently wasn’t kidding when he said he was good at hiding. In fact, had it gotten any later, Tony would have seriously contemplated calling the police. Naturally, as the thought is going through his head, Tony had found him curled up and asleep, not far from where he’d first seen him.
“Jarvis?” He said quietly.
“Sir?”
“Text Rhodey and let him know to call the search off. I found him.”
“Message sent, sir.” Jarvis replied after a second.
Tony sat down softly next to Harry, and pondered what he was doing. Both the kids parents were dead, deaths ruled accidental, and his only surviving relative was an aunt who’d been sent to prison for ten years, relating to the overall neglect, and eventual sale, of her nephew. Harry had been placed in this home a year ago, and was on a waiting list to be seen by a child psychologist for “issues” that had been redacted from his public records.
He knew he had no business getting involved. He was a forty-one year old genius, he had Iron Man, and he was barely managing a relationship with Pepper; a relationship that was on the rocks because he'd almost died. He had no business dragging a seven-year-old that he knew nothing about into his dramatic, and often dangerous, life.
Tony sat there and stewed, thinking of every single reason why he should get up and walk away, convincing himself that he could help this kid without becoming some kind of fixture in his life, when Harry slid down the wall in his sleep, his head and shoulder now pressing lightly on Tony’s arm.
He looked at peace, now, a complete and stark difference to the haunted face Tony saw earlier in the day, and the change between the two was physically hurting the older man.
Something made Harry whimper in his sleep a few times before his eyes gingerly blinked open, widening slightly when he caught sight of Tony.
“Hey, kid.” Tony tried.
The boys face shuttered, all surprise wiped out as it became cold and emotionless.
“What are you doing?” Harry asked pointedly, immediately on the defensive.
“I’m intrigued, Harry. Can I ask where you were hiding all day?” Tony asked.
“I never moved.” Harry replied.
“But… we looked for you all day; we had to have passed here a hundred times, but... fine, the sun set an hour ago. You never showed up for lunch or dinner, so… aren’t you hungry?” Tony pried, again feeling out of his depth.
Harry had buried his head in his legs and started mumbling. Tony caught the words “freaks” and “a day”.
“I’m sorry, Harry, I can’t understand you. Can you look at me, please?” Tony requested.
It took a moment, but Harry slowly turned that dead, haunted gaze on him.
“I said, ‘Freaks only deserve to eat once a day.’” Harry repeated.
“Did someone here tell you that? Are they abusing you, kid?” Tony asked, righteous anger flaring to life in his chest.
Harry shrugged slightly. “It’s true. I am a freak; a nasty little boy who deserves to be punished.” Harry said monotonously, looking away. “Is that why you’re talking to me? You’re here to punish me? Go ahead, I won’t cry.”
“Harry, I’m not here to hurt you.” Tony said quietly, his heart thundering in his chest. He'd never heard a child speak of themselves so flagrantly.
“My uncle used to say that.” Harry said softly. “Said he was trying to make me feel good, and if I would stop fighting, it would feel good. Maybe that’s your thing?” Harry wondered while looking at Tony out of the corner of his eye, more emotion in his voice than Tony had heard all day. “Do you want me to smile while you hurt me? I can do that, too, Mr. Stark.”
Tony’s mouth dropped open and his blood went cold, but after a moment, he forced himself to speak. “No. No to all of the above. I will get up and walk away, and you will never have to see me again, but… no. Jesus, kid… I don’t know what I’m doing, but it’s certainly not that.”
“Then why are you so interested in me?” Harry asked.
Tony sat quietly, unable to answer the question, and Harry let it hang.
It wasn’t until a new voice (one Tony hadn’t heard that day) broke the silence, that Tony saw another true emotion on the kids face. It was one he was becoming well acquainted with due to his superhero occupation; fear.
“Evans, where are you? It’s time for personal hygiene and then lights out. You know the drill.” The man said firmly from door he’d just emerged. Before, “Oh, Mr. Stark! I wasn’t aware you were still here.”
Harry had very discreetly moved closer to Tony and had one hand firmly fisted in his shirt. Tony looked down at his hand, and then back at his face, sad to see that he was emotionless and staring at the floor.
“Yes, well… with so many kids to see today, we wanted to make sure everyone got to spend a little one-on-one time with us. Colonel Rhodes and Ms. Potts should also still be on site.” Tony said, wrapping an arm gingerly around Harry’s shoulders. The boy tensed but relaxed in almost the same breath. “I’m not quite done getting to know my new friend, yet. Surely we can bend the rules tonight?”
“I- yes- well… it’s not my decision, but the matron’s. She’s very strict on things like bathing and bed times; surely you understand?” The unnamed man said.
Tony narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out why the man was raising a red flag in his head.
“If that’s the case, then I’d like to speak to Mrs. Trenall herself. Would you mind finding her?” Tony asked, polite but firm.
The man sent him a glare but turned on his heel and marched down the hallway.
“Harry?” Tony prompted once he was sure the man was out of hearing range. “It’s okay, he’s gone. Can… can you tell me why you’re afraid of him?”
Harry was quiet for so long, Tony assumed he was ignoring him, but finally he spoke.
“He… he just reminds me of my uncle. The way he looks… when... when we change…I just…” Harry started and trailed off.
Tony’s chest clenched again, in pain, or worry, or anger, or all of the above.
“He doesn’t… or hasn’t… done anything to you, has he?” Tony asked as carefully as he could, looking down to watch the boys face.
Harry shook his head and even in the darkened hallway, Tony could see there were tears slowly dripping down the kids face, even though he was absolutely silent; even as he drew a ragged breath, there was hardly a sound. Harry had also moved so that he was closer to Tony and was now resting his head lightly on the man’s chest, tears staining his expensive shirt.
“Okay, good... that’s good. I’d hate to have to seriously injure someone tonight.” Tony said, shock written on his face when it drew the smallest of laughs from Harry. “Would you mind telling me where you were all day? I’d really like to know what we didn’t check. I had Jarvis pull the schematics up and everything.” Tony asked after a few moments of silence.
He felt Harry freeze beneath him.
“I told you, Mr. Stark. I didn’t move. I…” Harry trailed off.
“You what, Harry?” Tony coaxed as gently as he could.
“I… think I can turn invisible.” Harry whispered.
Tony swallowed thickly and tried to control his knee-jerk reaction, anger, at the perceived tall tale.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, Harry, but please don’t lie to me.” Tony said flippantly.
“I’m not lying, sir. I’ll- I’ll show you.” Harry replied.
Tony slid away from the boy and nodded hesitantly.
Harry withdrew into his pose, his head on his pulled up knees, making himself a small ball. For a moment, nothing happened, and Tony’s eye twitched, sure he was getting strung along, when sure-as-shit, Harry faded from view.
“What the fuck?” Tony said aloud.
Harry popped back into view almost immediately and was warily looking at Tony from his balled up position.
“I told you I was a freak.” Harry said, voice cracking with sadness.
“You’re not a freak, Harry.” Tony said, scooting back over and bringing Harry back into a loose side hug.
He had to look up and furiously blink tears out of his own eyes.
What the fuck was going on? They’d arrived at this home to put smiles on some faces and get out. Tony had no intentions of spending the better part of a day playing hide and seek with a grandmaster hider, to only then end up feeling…. feelings… and yet, here he was.
“I… I don’t know if I can help you, kid.” Tony said quietly after a moment, causing Harry’s breathing to hitch slightly. “But… I’m sure as hell going to try. How, uh… how do you feel about a temporary thing? I’ll be like, your foster dad or something. See how shit I am at being responsible for someone else before any bigger decisions are made… or… I don’t know, am I reading this wrong, Harry? Do you just want me to leave you alone? Talk to me, kiddo.”
Harry looked up and locked eyes with the man, and Tony was captivated. Gone were the lifeless, cold green eyes and in their place were dark, glassy emeralds that Tony swore felt like were windows to his soul; bright, burning, and full of life.
“Please… take me with you.”
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Notes:
okokokokok, I knoooooooooow that I said I was only doing a one chapter place holder kinda thing, but I'm enjoying writing these smaller kind of snippets. For now, I think that's what this'll be? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I feel like the tags should have covered this, but TW for brief, implied/ referenced child abuse of the worst kind.
Chapter Text
Tony stared back at little Harry for a moment longer. In his mind, his entire way of life was shattering. Gone were three-day binges in the lab with no sleep, late-night parties where he consumed way too much alcohol, and generally disregarding anyone other than himself (and maybe Pepper, too.) He was about to try and arrange for a kid to come into his life, and it was just… a little scary.
But as he looked into those brilliant green eyes that stared back at him, begging, pleading, saying more in the moments they stared at each other than they had any actual words… it didn’t matter.
“Jarvis,” Tony said, tapping his watch and securing his hold around Harry’s shoulders.
“Yes, sir?” Jarvis replied.
“Rouse the lawyers and find Pepper; we’ve got some work to do.”
---
“You’re planning on doing WHAT?” Pepper nearly screeched.
It had been almost half an hour since Tony had made his decision, and he and Pepper were now waiting outside a bathroom that Harry had disappeared into a few minutes prior.
“Whoa, hey, no need to yell, babe. Seriously. I’ve got a feeling about this, and I… well, I’m going to do it.” Tony explained.
“A feeling? A FEELING? Tony Stark, I swear to God, if you’re doing this because you're dying again and you aren’t telling me, I’m going to kill you!” Pepper said, voice raising and lowering as she lost control of her temper.
“Pep, hey,” Tony said, taking her into his arms. “I’m not dying, okay? The new reactor core was a perfect fit and I’ve never felt better. It’s just… it’s honestly just this kid. He’s been through hell, and that’s just what’s on paper... who knows the extent of what he went through? I want to help him.”
“Exactly, Tony. Exactly. How do you plan on taking care of a kid? Espcially a kid with that much emotional baggage?” Pepper asked.
“I don’t know, Pep. I should be terrified, honestly, and maybe I’m not the best fit… but I’ve made my mind up.” Tony replied.
“This isn’t like a dog or a cat that we can re-home if it doesn’t work, Tony. This is a child with real needs and wants, and… while I’m not saying that you can’t handle it…” Pepper trailed off.
Well, that stung a little, but he supposed she did have a unique view of him and his behavior, so she wasn’t technically wrong, even if the dog and cat reference was a little pointed.
“I understand that Pepper, I do. I can’t even fault you for thinking that I might be thinking that way. But, something inside me changed after meeting Harry this morning, and… I don’t know, I feel the need to do something to help. We’ve already agreed that if we hate each other, we’ll figure something else out. But leaving him here? It’s not an option.” Tony replied.
Pepper opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off when the bathroom door opened and Harry stood on the threshold, awkwardly looking at his feet.
“I’m sorry.” Harry apologized, monotonous and barely above a whisper.
Pepper’s mouth slammed shut and Tony frowned slightly.
“What are you saying sorry for, kid? Did you overflow the toilet?” Tony said, pretending to peek into the bathroom.
Harry shook his head, still looking down. “No… you’re fighting because of me… I’m already causing you problems.”
Tony sighed lightly but reached out and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
“Never mind that Harry, that’s just how we discuss things. Why don’t you show me your room, hmm? My lawyers are already working hard on the legal side of everything, but it’s looking like we’ll be here until at least tomorrow.” Tony suggested as his stomach rumbled loudly. “I’m also getting pretty hungry.”
“I, uh… I’ll order something; pizza?” Pepper questioned.
“How does pizza sound, Harry?” Tony asked, remembering that the boy also hadn’t eaten since that morning.
Harry raised and lowered his shoulder, but finally looked up at Tony; he’d closed himself off again, face emotionless and eyes lifeless. Pepper gasped and covered her mouth. “Whatever you want, Mr. Stark.”
“Lead the way, then, kiddo. I’ll be right behind you.” Tony said, watching as the boy walked away before turning to Pepper. “I’d like your help busting him out of here, Pep, but I understand if you don’t want to get involved.”
“Oh, come on! You know I’ll help you, Tony, of course, I will. Who do we have working on this?” Pepper replied, a myriad of emotions flicking through her eyes while tying her hair back and watching Harry’s retreating form.
---
Pepper had joined a group call with their law team back in New York and was slowly pacing back and forth by a window, talking quietly and occasionally gesturing with a hand.
Tony, after a brief tour of Harry’s near-empty bedroom, had been watching her trek back and forth for a few minutes while he was waiting outside the bathroom door, again, this time for Harry to finish showering.
He’d taken over for Pepper and had Jarvis place an order for pizza, enough to feed a small army, as Tony couldn’t just order pizza for them and not everyone else. He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground as he leaned back against the wall, thinking about everything, and nothing.
“Jarvis.” He said, tapping his watch.
“Sir?” Jarvis replied, ever ready.
“Start a shopping list. Everything the kid could possibly need; clothes, bath products, entertainment. I’ll get his shoe size tonight, and see if he has preferences on anything. Get some of the most popular games for kids his age range, and a few years older, while I’m thinking about it.” Tony requested. “Maybe some books on child rearing and how to deal with trauma in young children?” He added quietly as an afterthought, his mind going a million miles an hour.
“It’s done, sir,” Jarvis replied.
“Save that list, for now. I’ll get some sizes and we’ll go from there.” Tony said.
“Of course, sir.” Jarvis agreed before going silent.
As the quiet of the hallway returned, with only the sound of water splashing in the bathroom and Pepper’s muffled voice, Tony kept expecting to suddenly feel the weight of what he was doing hit him, but it still hadn’t come. As he heard the water shut off and a cheap plastic curtain being pulled back, all he felt was calm and confident in his decision. Harry was undoubtedly just the first of many coming changes in his life, and rather than regret it, Tony was actually kind of excited.
Harry exited the bathroom a few minutes after the water shut off, looking more human than Tony had seen all day, but the boy quickly locked himself down, going to the cold, distant kid that the man had spent the last few hours with.
So being emotionless was something he had to consciously do, and it what? Stops him from feeling anything? Prevents him from reacting? Tony filed that information away for later and put an easy smile on his face.
“Hey, kiddo. Good shower?” He asked genuinely.
Harry just shrugged and held his dirty clothes closer to himself.
“Alright then, let’s go ditch those dirty clothes. The pizza should be here soon.” Tony said, following when Harry silently started padding toward his room.
Various children were roaming the halls, some waving and smiling at Tony as he passed, but no one spared Harry a second glance. Tony wasn’t even sure they noticed the small boy as he slowly, carefully walked down the middle of the hallway. It didn’t take long for them to arrive back in his room, where Harry pulled open a door to the closet and proceeded to dump his clothes into a basket that was tucked inside, before closing the door and moving across the small room to his bed.
Tony watched him pull his knees to his chest and proceed to stare at the man, but Tony wasn’t sure what to do. The silence was growing slightly awkward, and so Tony said the first thing that came to mind… again.
“Can I sit? I’m gonna sit.” He said, sitting down lightly on the edge of the bed.
Harry kept his emotionless gaze locked on Tony’s movements, and Tony fidgeted with a corner of his now untucked dress shirt.
“Sir, perhaps now is a good time to resolve the list?” Jarvis offered helpfully.
“Right! Right. So, Harry.” Tony started, turning and looking Harry in the eye again. “I’ve got Jarvis ordering some stuff. I don’t know what you’ve got to bring with you, and if you want to wear what you already have, that’s fine, too, but I thought maybe you’d like some new clothes? Do you have preferences on anything? Colors, designs? Also, do you know your shoe size? I’d like to make sure we have all the basics covered, but we can get-“ Tony cut himself off. Harry’s gaze had widened and his breathing had picked up.
“Mr. Stark, please don’t,” Harry begged, and Tony was shocked to see that he had tears in his eyes.
“Harry, what-? What’s wrong? Is it too much? I’m sorry, I just thought…” Tony said, slumping slightly.
“Freaky little boys don’t get things that other kids do,” Harry explained in a pained whisper, looking down. “Not without… t-trading… and I don’t want… to do that with you.” Tears were now rolling down his face, and Tony froze in absolute disgust as his implied meaning became clear.
“Kid, I’m…” Tony started, then stopped. How the fuck were you supposed to navigate this shit? “I need you to understand that I will never, ever, want you to… trade with me; not for anything. And you are not a freak, okay? I want to buy you those things simply because I want to, with absolutely no strings attached. I can set you up with Jarvis alone somewhere if you don’t want me involved, but I want to make sure you’re taken care of, kiddo.”
Harry sniffled and looked at Tony, searching his face for any hint of a lie, and the man wanted to sigh in relief. He’d dropped the emotionless mask he typically wore, and even though it hurt to see, Tony would take crying, emotional Harry over the robot Harry that didn’t think he could show how he was feeling.
“Okay.” Harry nearly whispered, wiping his face with his hands before continuing. “I… I like red, and gold, and... I don’t know my shoe size.”
“Thank you,” Tony said, trying to put as much feeling into it as he could. He knew Harry was going to struggle and that whatever he’d been through was not going to be worked through in a day, but the fact that he was willing to trust Tony, even for something as simple as making sure he had clothing, it sent a pleasant feeling of warmth through him. “Red and gold, huh? Those happen to be my favorites, as well.”
---
The pizza arriving had been an… event. Jarvis had ordered enough for everyone to have their own 14” pizza, even though dinner had long passed. Tony thought it might cause an issue, but the matron only had smiles as the kids milled about in the common area, all talking loudly, laughs and screams occasionally ringing out. Tony had ducked out pretty quickly after everything had been settled, taking a couple of boxes for himself and giving Pepper a quick kiss before returning to Harry’s room. He knew Rhodey was eyeing him on his way out, but he wasn’t quite ready to hash things out with him, especially when he didn’t know what the man thought about Tony’s actions. It was a conversation that could wait.
He knocked twice on the door frame before walking into the boy’s room, ignoring the way Harry tensed before relaxing as he neared, settling himself on the end of the bed he’d vacated ten minutes previous.
“Looks like Jarvis ordered half pepperoni/ half sausage for everyone. Does that work for you?” Tony asked, sliding an open box to Harry.
Tony watched as Harry swallowed hard and looked longingly at the pizza, but did not attempt to grab any.
“Harry?” Tony questioned, setting the slice of pizza he’d been about to eat back into the box before pushing it off to the side. “I know you’ve gotta be hungry, kiddo.”
Harry swallowed hard again, and quietly repeated what he’d told Tony earlier, “Freaks only get to eat once a day.”
Tony took a deep, steadying breath. His initial reaction, anger again, had him wanting to strangle whoever had told this poor kid he was a freak often enough for him to believe it.
“Okay, time for some ground rules, I think,” Tony said. “First, from now on, if you’re hungry, I don’t care what time it is, or where we are, or what we’re doing, I want you to eat. If we’re out, tell me, and I will find you food. And… if you can’t do that, then I want you to start with the bare minimum; three meals a day. Deal?”
It took a long time, with the boy staring into the man's eyes all the while, prompting Tony to almost ask if he needed more of a compromise, but Harry eventually nodded.
“Thank you, Harry.” Tony said sincerely, before, “The second, and equally important rule… Can you look at me for this, kid?”
Harry’s eyes flicked from the drab blue bedspread and back to Tony’s almost immediately.
“I want you to try to stop calling yourself a freak. You are not a freak. You are Harry Evans and you’re just a little boy who hasn’t had a very fair shot at life, but we are going to change that.”
“But I am a freak.” Harry whispered, his eyes filling with tears, “You’ve seen it. I-I can turn invisible and make people ignore me, and… Aunt Petunia said this is how freaks are treated. I deserve this.”
“No, Harry, you do not, did not, deserve any of it. You deserve to be loved, and nurtured, and happy.” Tony replied, feeling sick yet again, all thoughts of eating completely abandoned.
“No, she said, she said-. ” Harry cried, shaking his head.
“She lied, kiddo,” Tony said sadly.
Harry sobbed once, a broken, horrible sound and Tony suddenly found himself with his arms full of kid and he had to brace himself from being bowled over.
As he gingerly pated Harry’s back while the boy near-silently sobbed into his shoulder, he noticed a shadow in the doorway, turning his head to see Rhodey leaning against the door jamb. His best friend simply nodded his head when he realized Tony was looking, before pushing off the frame with his forearm and walking away.
He didn't know how long he'd been watching, or what he heard, but Tony hoped he saw things the same way he did.
---
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Chapter Text
“Sir, you have an incoming call from Ms. Potts. Would you like me to put it through?” Jarvis asked quietly.
Tony ignored another twinge of pain from his cramping lower back as he brought his watch closer to his face.
Harry had ended up crying himself to sleep against Tony’s shoulder, and the man, slightly fearing another breakdown, had been hesitant to move and risk waking him, at the expense of good posture.
“Yeah, go ahead, J,” Tony replied.
“Tony?” Pepper’s voice questioned a second later.
“Hey, Pep. How’re things going?” Tony asked, speaking softly.
“It’s… going better than I thought it would, to tell you the truth. I took a chance and reached out to Emily Brown, she’s the HR Director for the fostering group in charge of this home, and she was originally the person who was helping organize our visit here… anyways, you don’t need the details; she’s going to help streamline the fostering process. We’ll be meeting with a specialist that does home visits in the morning, and they’ll go with us, along with Harry, to ensure we have a place for him to stay. I took the liberty of selecting the four-bedroom penthouse overlooking the Thames. It’s not far from here.” Pepper informed.
“The one with the terrace?” Tony asked hopefully.
“The one with the terrace.” She confirmed.
“I love you, you know that?” Tony queried.
“Yeah… I love you, too, Tony.” Pepper replied, before, “Scott is calling; I’ll keep you posted.”
The call ended and Tony leaned his head back against the wall, his back now firmly protesting the awkward angle he’d been holding for hours.
With a glance down, he carefully tried extracting himself from under the boy. Harry, however, was apparently a light sleeper and jerked awake almost immediately. The kid re-tightened his hold on Tony and froze.
“Hey, it’s okay, Harry, I just need to stretch my back out. Old man problems, ya know? Why don’t you get under the blankets?” Tony suggested.
“You’ll stay?” Harry asked quietly.
Tony took a moment to respond, shocked Harry even wanted him to.
“Of course, I will.” He confirmed.
---
Tony had ended up dozing off with his back against the wall and Harry clinging tightly to his middle. It wasn’t until hours later that someone woke him.
“Tony? Tony, wake up.”
Tony’s eyes fluttered open and he looked around slowly, noting how stiff his neck was. The room was still dark; a look at his watch showed that it was 6:00 AM.
“Hey, Tony,” Pepper said, crouching down next to the bed.
Tony zeroed in on her and blinked himself awake a couple more times before responding.
“Hey, Pep. Everything alright?” Tony asked.
“Yeah, everything is… okay. The specialist will be here in an hour and I wanted to give you a chance to wake up before you had to be charming.” Pepper explained. “And… Rhodey went to get coffee.”
“Mhmm. Anything else?” Tony asked, sensing a ‘but’ coming.
“There might be some paparazzi outside,” Pepper replied.
Tony sighed. “Of course there are.” He said tightly, irritation seeping into his tone.
“I made arrangements for Happy to join us, but he won’t be here until this evening. A few of the overnight staff have offered to help escort us to the car, but we never planned for this. We’ll be surrounded.” Pepper explained.
“How many are there?” Tony asked.
“Oh, just a couple… dozen,” Pepper replied.
As if on cue, Tony heard a door open followed by a rush of shouts.
“Colonel Rhodes, what is the purpose behind your visit to this children’s home?”
“Can you confirm that Tony Stark and Pepper Potts are with you?”
“Colonel Rhodes, is it true Iron Man is looking to foster a child?”
“Are YOU looking to foster a child?”
A door slammed and Tony could hear someone yelling as they neared until he was able to catch the tail-end of the rant.
“-absolute sharks. And how the hell do they even know we’re here? We kept this under wraps for this reason.” Rhodey said, bursting into the small room while being followed by a woman in her mid-twenties, before stopping abruptly when he realized Tony and Pepper were staring at him. He only paused for a second and then fully entered the room with his two drink carriers and small black and white bag.
“Uh… sorry for being so loud. I’ve got your dirty chai here, Pepper. Good morning, Tony… hey, kid.”
Tony looked down and saw that Harry was indeed awake but seemed to be trying to take ‘expressionless’ to another level, though Tony expected no less in a room full of people.
“I got you a drip coffee with three shots of espresso and an ungodly amount of creamer, Tony, and I grabbed a hot chocolate for you, Harry,” Rhodey said, passing the drinks out before taking his. He handed the other drink carrier to the member of staff that had followed him in.
“Top left is yours, and the other three are regular drips with room for cream. Are you sure there’s nothing else we can get you, Abigail?” Rhodey asked.
“No, James, that’s quite alright,” The woman said with an easy smile. “Everything will be right as rain once you guys head out… no offense.”
“None taken. The media getting involved was never part of the plan.” Rhodey replied.
“Yes, well… I’ll go pass these out and we’ll get prepared for your specialist to arrive. Still planning on leaving when they arrive?” Abigail questioned.
Rhodey looked at Tony, who was mid-sip, causing the man to hurriedly swallow and burn his tongue in the process.
“Yes, yes. If the specialist doesn’t need to do anything here, I’d prefer to get some distance from the paparazzi.” Tony said, eyes streaming from the scalding liquid.
“I’ll let you know when they arrive, then.” Abigail offered, giving them ( Rhodey ) another smile before turning and leaving them.
“James, huh? I knew you for five years before I was allowed to call you James, and by that point, you were already Rhodey to me.” Tony teased.
“Tony, I’m like twice her age. Don’t even go there.” Rhodey said warningly.
Tony, who, until quite recently, had taken women half his age to bed on a near-nightly basis, wisely chose to refrain from further teasing.
“Right… well, I’m thinking we give the media as little as possible. I don’t want Harry having to deal with all that, especially now.” Tony said.
“How?” Pepper asked. “There are several emergency exits, but they either lead to the front of the building or a dead-end ally.”
“Much simpler than that, Pep. I’ll carry him, and we’ll keep a jacket over his head.” Tony suggested.
Harry gripped his shirt tightly, and Tony looked down at him.
“What’s wrong, kid?” Tony asked quietly.
Harry looked up at him, and then back down, unable or unwilling to speak.
“Do you… not want your head covered? Or do you not want to be carried?” Tony guessed.
“I… don’t like having my head covered,” Harry whispered.
“Okay… that’s alright, kid. Just, uh… just so you know when we’re out there, there’s going to be a lot of people yelling and taking pictures, and just being generally unlikeable assholes. It’s a short walk, but it’ll be very hectic for a moment.” Tony explained.
“You’ll still carry me?” Harry asked quietly.
“Of course,” Tony replied with a smile.
---
At 07:00 on the dot, there was a knock at the front door, shortly followed by another flurry of shouts and activity that poured into the entryway when the person was granted entry into the home.
Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, and Harry had been ready to go for nearly fifteen minutes, and Tony wasted no time in placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder and guiding him out of the small room they’d been allowed to use while waiting.
They saw Emily talking to a short, fierce-looking woman with silver-grey hair and a small, but stylish purse that she had looped through her arm. They hadn’t moved far from the door, and Tony led Harry, followed by Pepper and Rhodey, to the new arrival.
“Speaking of, here they are now,” Emily said as they approached, gesturing to their group before ducking away.
“Good morning.” The woman said with a soft voice that contradicted her stern appearance, “My name is Miriam Webber and I’ll be accompanying you to your residence this morning. I understand it’s not very far away?”
“Pepper Potts,” Pepper said, introducing herself before, “This is Tony Stark, Colonel James Rhodes, and Harry, of course.” She informed Miriam, pointing to each of them as she named them. “And that’s correct. We have a penthouse along the Thames that we think is going to be perfect.”
“Excellent, my dear, excellent. I was informed beforehand that you intended to leave as soon as possible. Is that still the case?” Miriam asked.
“Yes,” Tony confirmed. “As long as you’re ready.”
“I’ll follow your group, Mr. Stark,” Miriam said.
Tony nodded and looked at Pepper and Rhodey.
“Thank you both,” Tony said sincerely, suddenly feeling the urge to express his gratitude.
Rhodey gave him an easy grin and lightly punched his arm.
“A rare showing of emotion from Tony Stark? Can I take that to the bank?” His best friend said.
Tony snorted and rolled his eyes, choosing to look at Pepper, instead. She was smiling, too, but something was off. Like it was a forced smile and it wasn’t quite reaching her eyes.
“Everything okay, Pep?” Tony asked.
“Yes, Tony. Nothing that can’t wait.” Pepper replied. “Ahh, and here comes Emily with the overnight staff.” She said, clearly ending the conversation.
Tony let it drop, not wanting to disrupt their plans.
“Right.” He said, turning to Harry as the two groups met. “You ready for this, kiddo? Shouldn’t be more than a minute or two to the car, but like I said earlier, it’s going to be loud and uncomfortable.”
Harry nodded, face expressionless.
“Great. Am I… okay to pick you up?” Tony asked slightly sheepish, feeling seven pairs of eyes watching their interaction.
Harry nodded again, and Tony easily picked the boy up. Harry latched on to him, arms and legs wrapping around the man, face tucked into and mostly hidden by Tony’s neck.
“Everyone ready?” He asked, turning to the group.
Various nods and agreements met his question and he nodded once in return.
“Emily, if you guys can form a loose circle around us that would be great. Rhodey, Pep, next to me, please. Ms. Webber, wherever you feel comfortable.” Tony instructed.
The group began moving into position, and Tony took a deep breath before schooling his face into something that hopefully conveyed his annoyance at the reporters outside.
“Everyone ready?” He asked again when the movement had subsided. “Let’s go.”
Emily and one of the male staff members exited first, followed by the rest of the group, and for a moment it was silent. Tony looked around at two or three dozen stunned reporters and almost laughed, only just managing to maintain his haughty scowl.
Someone in the back recovered first, and their shouted ‘Mr. Stark!’ broke the stunned silence that hung over the crowd of paparazzi.
“Mr. Stark, is that your child?”
“Iron Man, can you tell us who you’ve got with you?”
“Can you show us their face?”
“What do they look like?”
“How old are they?”
Question after question was left unanswered, yet they continued to shout, yell, and snap pictures. Thankfully, the staff of the home was doing a splendid job of keeping their path clear, and their sleek, black Suburban was only another hundred feet away.
“Sir, what are you doing? Sir, please stop- SIR!” One of the staff yelled from Tony’s left.
A man with a black hat and sunglasses had broken their makeshift guard detail and was boldly rushing toward Tony and Harry, phone camera pointed toward them as he did so.
Tony tightened his grip on Harry and started to shield him away when Rhodey acted. Gasps rang out through the gathered reporters as he grabbed the man’s outstretched arm, twisted, and wrapped it behind his back the moment he made contact with Tony.
“Keep going. I’ll keep this bozo company for a minute.” Rhodey instructed.
Tony didn’t hesitate, speedily leading the group to the waiting Suburban. The crowd of reporters followed them as Tony climbed into the back seat of the SUV, slamming the door behind him. Pepper climbed in the front seat, and they were surrounded by paparazzi that were clamoring for photos.
A moment later, the noise peaked as they were joined by Rhodey, who firmly slammed his door, as well.
“The social worker is going to follow us; she’s in the white Mercedes. Anyone else won’t make it past the penthouse security.” Rhodey said.
“Any idea who the fuck that guy was?” Tony asked angrily.
“Nobody we need to worry about, now. He was taking a video that didn’t catch anything, but I deleted it just to be safe. I might have been a little rough, but I made it clear that he needed to keep his hands to himself from now on.” Rhodey explained.
“Thanks, Rhodey-bear.” Tony sighed, slumping a little in his seat.
“Next time, we bring Happy. We never should have come without him.” Rhodey replied.
“He’s the new head of security, you know? I wanted him to have a chance to settle into it. This was supposed to be low-key, remember?” Tony defended.
“Speaking of security…” Pepper cut in, engaging Rhodey and completely derailing their conversation before they could start bickering.
Harry quivered slightly and Tony looked down.
“You okay, kid?” Tony asked quietly as Pepper and Rhodey started talking up front. “Sorry, that got so crazy. Nosey reporters come with the territory, unfortunately; though I will make it very clear you’re off limits after we’ve gotten settled.”
“I’m okay,” Harry murmured. “Just lots of yelling… why do they care who I am?”
“I don’t think it has so much to do with you as it does the fact that you were with me. Do you know who I am, Harry?” Tony asked.
“Tony Stark,” Harry replied.
Tony smiled. “Do you know what I do for a living?”
Harry shook his head.
“Remind me to show you later. And then I’ll explain why the media follows me around.”
---
Notes:
Your comments have been so kind <3 thank you very much.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Notes:
Um... hi? Was feeling inspired (sadly, no inspiration to write my main fic, but what can ya do) More sad Harry, bitchy Pepper (I think my sister has turned me against her LMAO) and Tony just trying to help. Hope you enjoy :)
Chapter Text
The trip to the penthouse was quick, partially because it was only a couple of miles from the orphanage, and partially because of the early hour of the morning. Tony had hoped they’d seen the end of the reporters, but his hopes were dashed when they neared the entrance to the underground garage of the penthouse and caught sight of a gaggle of reporters who knew that he lived here and had bet on Tony stopping by.
“Ridiculous,” Rhodey said, displaying a badge as they rolled past a thick, burly-looking security guard who was managing to keep the reporters back from the gate with looks alone.
“I’ll get a date for a press conference set-up. That should pacify them for a while.” Pepper offered.
“Thanks, Pep. Give yourself another raise.” Tony remarked jokingly as they rolled to a stop in the near-empty parking area.
“Tony, I'm already making a little over $20 million a year to run your company. I don’t need any more.” Pepper replied as Rhodes exited the SUV.
“What about those shoes you were looking at in Monaco? The ones that looked so good with that black dress?” Tony queried.
Pepper directed a small smile at him before her eyes drifted to Harry and her smile vanished. Tony blinked, but she was already turned back around, sliding out of the front seat of the SUV.
“She doesn’t like me,” Harry said softly, looking down.
“I… I’ve never… I don’t think that’s it, kiddo. Pepper loves everyone.” Tony replied.
The man looked over and saw Rhodey and Pepper standing shoulder to shoulder, waiting for an elevator to descend.
“She… she thinks really loud,” Harry whispered, so softly that Tony could barely hear him.
“What do you mean, Harry?” Tony asked.
“You’re going to… to hate me,” Harry said, a tear dripping from the end of his downturned nose.
“You know, unless you’re a spy planted by some evil corporation, trying to steal my brain, I don’t think I could find it in myself to hate you,” Tony said, rubbing a hand slowly, gently, up, and down Harry’s arm. “Now would you please tell me what you meant?”
“I’m a f-fre-“ Harry started, before cutting himself off and swallowing loudly. He took a shaky breath before continuing. “I- I can-“ He tried to say before a knock on the window startled him and Tony both.
“You planning on joining us, Tones?” Rhodey asked from outside the vehicle.
“We’ll finish this later, okay kid? Let’s get in and find your room so the social worker can do what she needs to do.” Tony suggested, realizing they still needed to get the woman’s approval for him to stay there.
Harry didn’t respond, his face going emotionless as he slid away from Tony and opened the door that Rhodey had just knocked on, stepping outside of the SUV and then waiting for Tony to follow.
Tony shook his head twice, trying to clear it before he followed.
Pepper was waiting in the elevator, making small talk with the social worker while they waited, and Rhodey fell into step behind the pair as they made their way into the lift with the ladies.
“Hit the seven, would you, Rhodey?” Tony asked.
Rhodey did as requested, swiping his badge and pressing the number, causing the doors to slide shut silently before quickly carrying them upward, and halting all conversation when a bell *dinged*, announcing their arrival on the 7th floor.
The doors slid open, revealing a lavish entry room that was tastefully decorated. The walls were navy blue, and the furniture was a mixture of white and slate grey, creating a Stark contrast of color, as Pepper had once joked. There was a giant floor-to-ceiling mirror to their left and a crystal chandelier that was brilliantly reflecting the light that was streaming in through the windows that littered the far side of the room. The floors were a light, European white oak that pulled the whole space together.
“Crikey.” Miriam let out softly.
“What do you think, kiddo? Not bad for your new house, eh?” Tony asked, looking down, a smile breaking out on his face when he saw how gobsmacked Harry was.
“Wow,” the little boy said wondrously, taking his first steps away from Tony for the first time that morning as he viewed the room. “It’s so... big.” He said, eyes locked on the chandelier, before suddenly realizing he was alone. He shot Tony an apologetic look and was back at his side in a moment. “Sorry.” He fumbled out.
“Nothing to be sorry for, kiddo. This is your place now, too. I want you to explore. And for the love of god, please break something. It’ll give me a reason to go shopping.” Tony said, before, “Why don’t I give you and Miriam a tour, huh? You can pick one of the rooms and then we’ll see if there’s anything edible in the fridge.”
“Excellent idea, Mr. Stark.” Miriam quipped.
Tony put an easy smile on and led the pair through a detailed tour of the house, highlighting security features for the social worker, and bathrooms and rooms for Harry.
“There are two bedrooms on this floor, two on the top floor. Pep and I share the master on the top floor.”
He showed them the kitchen, which was all expensive marble and flush cabinets, and easily carried the opulence that the rest of the penthouse did. On the second floor, he showed a quick tour of the master bedroom, which led to one of two terraces, and was one of Tony’s favorite places to sit and just be.
On the other side of the hallway were another two doors, one leading to a bedroom with a private bathroom attached, and one that led to what was once a panic room, which Tony had converted into a small lab.
“There’s only one place in the penthouse that’s off-limits, Harry,” Tony said, pointing to the door and a high-tech security panel. “I don’t want you venturing in here by yourself, capiche? Jarvis controls entry and it should be locked unless I’m in there. If I’m in there, just ask Jarvis to let me know you need me.”
Harry nodded and swallowed thickly.
“It’ll be fine, kiddo. Did you see a room you liked?” Tony followed up.
Harry shrugged, but asked, “This one?” pointing to the room Miriam was perusing. It looked completely sterile; more white paint, with windows dominating two of the walls, and generic, though still bougie, decorations. It looked straight out of a page of a trendy catalogue.
“Well, let’s see,” Tony replied, gesturing for Harry to enter, and following behind him. “What do you think, Miriam? Would this room be acceptable for Harry? We’ll get some stuff to personalize the space, obviously, and we’ll have to paint, but I think it should work.”
“I dare say, Mr. Stark, that anyone could ask for a better place to raise a child. We’ll need to go over some documents, basic forms that say you’ll agree to protect and provide for Harry, and that you understand your roles and responsibilities as a foster.” Miriam replied. “But I have no reservations about signing off on this residence.”
“Excellent. Why don’t we head back downstairs and see what that delicious smell is? We’ll discuss the paperwork after.”
---
Breakfast had been whipped up by Rhodey and consisted of toast, bacon, sausage, fresh fruit, and more coffee for the adults, juice for Harry.
Harry looked overwhelmed when Tony slid him a plate with a piece of everything on it and a generous portion of fresh fruit.
“At least three a day, right? More whenever you want it.” Tony reminded him quietly.
Harry nodded stiffly before attacking the plate with gusto, his manners leaving room for improvement, but then again, he hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of the pizza from the night before and was likely starving.
Tony smiled softly before turning to the group of adults, who were watching with varied expressions.
Rhodey’s look was calculating, viewing him with slightly squinted eyes, obviously trying to see what Tony’s game was. Miriam’s smile mirrored his own, her stern expression from this morning completely forgotten, and Tony knew this was someone who truly cared for the children in her charge. Pepper was… Pepper had a pained expression that she wiped from her face as she caught Tony’s eye.
Tendrils of unease gripped at his chest as she avoided eye contact, choosing instead to keep her focus on her food, and he spent the rest of the meal alternating between conversations with Rhodey and Miriam until everyone had finished.
“Rhodey bear, can you be a doll and show Miriam to the study? We’ll be along shortly. I want to get Harry set up with Jarvis so they can go crazy ordering stuff, and I need a quick word with Pepper.” Tony asked.
“Right this way, Ms. Webber,” Rhodey said, making a sweeping gesture with his hand that roused a smile from the social worker.
Tony grabbed the StarkPad off the fridge and double-tapped the screen. “You awake, Jarvis?” He asked.
“As if I could sleep, knowing you have a constant need for supervision, sir,” Jarvis replied dryly. A soft snort behind him had him looking over his shoulder at the source; Harry.
The boy reddened and stammered, “S-s-sorry, I-.”
“Oh great, someone else who thinks you’re funny. Keep laughing at him Harry, and he’ll grow an ego.” Tony replied, trying to let Harry off the hook.
“Unlikely, sir. Your ego is big enough to sustain both of us.” Jarvis quipped.
Tony turned around fully now and fixed a small smile on Harry.
“This is one of the tablets my company makes. This one is a little special, though, because I have my A.I. – J.A.R.V.I.S – interfaced with it. Jarvis can do anything you ask him to do.”
“J.A.R.V.I.S?” Harry repeated quietly.
A small sigh came from Tony’s left, and Tony wouldn’t have ever believed it came from Pepper if there had been anyone else in the room. As it were, he ignored her, and his rising irritation, and continued with Harry.
“It’s an acronym – Just A Rather Very Intelligent System; aka Jarvis. He’s modeled after the butler I had growing up, but really, he’s so much more than that. Jarvis handles all cybersecurity for Stark Industries, and since I promoted Pepper to CEO of SI, he’s been handling my day-to-day schedule. He has access to just about any database you can think of, and that’s just the surface.” Tony explained.
“Wow,” Harry whispered.
“Do you think you can hang out on the terrace while we discuss these forms and get everything situated? Jarvis can help you find anything you feel like decorating your room with.” Tony asked, sliding the tablet to Harry.
“I… yes, but…” Harry trailed off.
“Buuuut?” Tony drawled out with another smile.
“I’m not sure how to use it,” Harry replied, looking down.
“Oh.” Duh. Tony wanted to smack himself on the forehead. “Jarvis can navigate based on speech. Just tell him what you’re thinking, and he can pull it up. No need to press or do anything.”
Harry nodded and grabbed the tablet. “Thank you for the food, Mr. Stark. Thank you, Ms. Potts.” He said before quickly retreating out of the room and disappearing toward the glass door that led to the terrace.
When Tony was sure he wouldn’t be able to overhear their conversation, he turned to Pepper.
“I can understand you being a little uncomfortable with this, especially knowing my history with ‘other projects’, but… you can see that I, we, have the means to help this kid, right, Pep?” Tony asked. “What’s your issue with this?”
“I don’t have an ‘issue’, Tony. Have I said anything negative?” Pepper replied, her sharp tone bellying her words.
Tony just looked at her and watched as she got more irritated the longer he waited.
“Damn it, Tony, this is not the time. I told you I would help you, and that’s what I’m doing. You didn’t want to listen to me at the orphanage, and I don’t see any reason you would start now.” Pepper said, her tone approaching a waspishness he’d only seen a handful of times in their years together. “We need to get the paperwork taken care of so that Miriam can leave and continue doing her job. We can talk about this later.” She said, abruptly ending the conversation by leaving the kitchen as Tony stood there, eyebrows slightly raised, and tried to work out what had just happened.
He closed his eyes and sighed after a moment, resigning himself to the eventual fight that was coming. He followed her after taking a moment to compose himself, heading to the study to finalize the foster placement.
---
“And one final signature here, certifying that the National Group for Fostering is releasing one Harry Evans into your custody and that you are henceforth responsible for his care and continued wellbeing.” Miriam indicated.
They were on a video call with someone from Tony’s legal team in NY; Pepper had maintained a passive look throughout the process, responding when needed, but offering little outside of direct questioning. If it was apparent to anyone else that they were not seeing eye to eye, they didn’t mention it.
“They are acceptable terms, Mr. Stark, though we’d like to reiterate that you are agreeing to a long-term foster. As your legal representative, I believe now would be a good time to think about all the possible repercussions of this.” His lawyer, Tom Stride, informed him.
The man had a point, and looking at Rhodey, he saw that his best friend was once again leveling a calculating gaze at him. He, undoubtedly, felt the same as the lawyer.
Choosing to take someone else’s advice for maybe the third time in his life, Tony stopped and thought about what he was doing.
It’s true that twenty-four hours ago if someone had asked him about fostering a child, he would have laughed in their face. As he had just learned by signing all these papers, he was essentially agreeing to random house calls for welfare checks, excessive documentation regarding Harry’s livelihood, and the possibility of getting hauled in front of a judge for getting something wrong. People had expectations of him, of Iron Man, and a foster child was definitely not a part of those expectations.
But that brought him to the seven-year-old kid sitting out on the terrace. The kid who was terrified to show how he’s feeling, who has something going on with him that makes him think he’s a freak, who has been disgustingly abused by the people who should have been taking care of him, that Tony knew he was doing the right thing.
If there’s something wrong, those who have the ability to take action… have the responsibility to take action.
Sure, Tony could flub the kid off on some other rich, respectable family and convince himself that he was helping, but he’d known since last night, after having Harry plead with the man not to leave him, that he would move mountains for him. Harry had asked Tony for help.
With that thought, he looked towards Pepper, but she wouldn’t meet his eye, choosing instead to look pointedly at the wall. So, he re-gripped his pen and with a flourish, signed his name.
“Perfectly acceptable terms to me, Tom,” Tony said, standing as Miriam did and helping gather the various forms they’d spent the last forty-five minutes reviewing and signing. He handed her the pile he’d managed to round up, and she stuck her hand out for him to shake. As he took her hand, she locked his in a vice grip.
“Typically, this is a very lengthy process, Mr. Stark, and for good reason. There’s usually a series of vetting’s that happen, to ensure you mean no harm to children, processes that have been foregone due to your status as one of Earth’s most influential people. I would not, however, feel as though I am doing my due diligence without giving you simple words of caution; do not abuse our goodwill.” Miriam said, stern expression back in place as she locked eyes with Tony. He understood the threat for what it was, and so did his lawyer.
“Alright, that’s a baseless-“Tom started passionately before Tony cut in.
“It’s okay, Tom. I understand and fully appreciate, what Miriam is saying. I’ll strive to be worthy of the responsibility.” Tony replied, completely serious, squeezing back to show that he understood, and she released his hand.
“See that you do, Mr. Stark. We have many programs that can help you transition into your role as a foster parent; you just have to ask.” Miriam replied, her expression easing as she looked around the table. “It’s been a pleasure meeting all of you, and I look forward to our future visits. Now if you’ll please excuse me, I need to have a private word with Harry and then I’ll be on my way unless anyone has further questions for me?” She asked.
“Just a reminder, Ms. Webber,” Tom interjected, tone back to normal. “That you have my personal number, so we can arrange for copies of all the documents discussed and signed to be sent over.”
“You will be my first call once I’ve seen to the other cases I’m in charge of,” Miriam assured.
“Thank you, Ms. Webber, that’s everything from me. If that’s all, Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts?” Tom asked.
“That’s everything for now, Stride. I’ll call you this evening.” Pepper said, ending the video call.
“I’ll walk you out.” Rhodey offered, one of the first times he’d spoken throughout the whole meeting.
Miriam briefly shook Pepper’s hand, leveled a nod at Tony, and exited the room, followed closely by Rhodes.
The silence that followed was thick with tension, and after a few minutes of neither of them saying anything, Tony knew they needed to clear the air.
“Hey, J? How’s Harry doing?” Tony asked while Pepper continued to stare at the wall.
“He is having a private conversation with Ms. Webber while Colonel Rhodes watches from inside. Before being interrupted, Harry was assisting me in picking out some toys that he might be interested in.” Jarvis replied.
“Great, great, let me know when they’re finished.” Tony requested.
“Certainly, sir,” Jarvis replied.
“Talk to me, Pep,” Tony asked as soon as Jarvis had finished speaking.
Pepper snorted softly and turned her icy gaze to him. “What about, Tony?” She questioned.
“This, whatever this is,” Tony said, gesturing between them with a wave of his hand. “What the hell happened between last night and this morning that has pissed you off so badly?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s about seven years old, and it’s all you can think about right now.” Pepper replied angrily.
“What, Harry? Babe, what are you talking about?” Tony asked, his tone rising in exasperation.
“I can’t handle this, Tony. You made a decision last night, a spur-of-the-moment fucking decision, YET AGAIN, with absolutely no thought about asking how I felt about it. Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want kids right now? Did it ever occur to you that maybe, maybe I wanted to wait until our lives had calmed down before we ever even approached this subject? You were almost dead a few months ago, and now you want to bring a kid into this dynamic? Really?” Pepper ranted. “What do you expect from me, Tony? You want me to run your company? Fine. Shield you from all the bad publicity from your mistakes? FINE. But I cannot, will not, become a mother. Foster or otherwise.”
Tony felt his blood turning to ice the longer he stood there and listened to her yell at him.
“Where the hell did all that come from? Why didn’t you say something last night? Why the HELL would you agree to go so far as to secure him a place in this house if you didn’t have any intention of helping him once he was here? Am I speaking to an evil twin? Where is my kind, loving partner, cause I’d like to speak to her.”
“Very funny, but humor isn’t going to save you this time. I’ll tell you why I bent over backwards, Tony. Because you made me feel like shit. You told me that leaving him at that orphanage was not an option. I tried, I TRIED to voice my concerns, but you wouldn’t listen. Once again, Tony Stark knows what’s best. I’ve helped you make your bed, it’s time for you to lay in it; alone.” Pepper finished.
“I’m sorry, say that again,” Tony said dangerously.
“You heard me. I can’t handle the stress anymore, Tony. I love you, I really do, but I cannot be your CEO, your PR specialist, your partner, and your foster child’s new mother. You said this was happening with or without my help; I chose to help you because I knew I could. But as far as our future is concerned? It’s over. I will not continue to be an afterthought.” Pepper said.
His heart clenched and a lump grew in his throat as his eyes were threatening to tear up, but he would be damned if he let her see him break.
“Fine, Ms. Potts. I appreciate your assistance with a matter this delicate. Your work here was exemplary, as I’ve come to expect from you, but you are free to return to the States and resume your duties as Chief Executive Officer.”
Neither of them moved, both staring daggers at each other, and as Pepper opened her mouth to speak again, Jarvis interrupted.
“Sorry to intrude, sir, but Harry has finished speaking with Ms. Webber and has retreated to his room. He is… upset, sir.”
“I hope that you wake up and realize how in over your head you are Tony and that you don’t royally fuck him up in the meantime. There’s only so much damage control I can do.” Pepper said scathingly before stalking out of the room, slamming into Rhodey in the hallway and only stopping to mutter an apology before continuing to leave.
“That uh… didn’t sound or look good, Tones. You okay, brother?” Rhodey questioned cautiously as he entered the room.
Tony slammed his fist down on the tabletop.
“Peachy, Rhodes. Any idea what the social worker said that upset Harry?” Tony asked, feeling exhausted.
“Unfortunately, not. He was fine when I walked her to the elevator, and when I went back to the terrace, he was gone. I asked Jarvis where he went, and he said he was upset, so I was coming to get you.” Rhodey replied.
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to help Pepper's words replaying in his head.
“I hope you don’t royally fuck him up in the meantime.”
“Right, guess I better go see what's up with Harry,” Tony said.
“Need anything?” Rhodey asked.
“No, but would you mind staying here for a bit? You’ve been giving me looks since last night, and I want to make sure I’m not about to lose my best friend, too.” Tony requested.
It was a mark of how good a friend James was that he didn’t laugh or give Tony shit at that moment.
“I’m here until you want me gone, man. Go help the kid.”
---
“Think about what you say before you say it, and for the love of God, don’t act like Howard.” Tony mentally coached himself before gently knocking on Harry’s closed door.
“Hey, kiddo, it’s Tony. Do you mind if I come in?” Tony asked.
There was a second of scrambling on the other side of the door before a timid, slightly thick, “No, I don’t mind.”
Tony eased the door open and easily spotted Harry curled up in a ball on the bed.
He approached the bed slowly, not wanting to give him any reason to react badly.
“Can I sit?” He asked.
A nod.
He sat.
It was quiet except for the boy's near-silent sobs.
“Can you look at me, Harry?” Tony asked.
It took a long time for Harry to respond again, but Tony could guess that patience was a virtue he was going to have to learn, and he was eventually rewarded when Harry turned his tear-tracked face toward him.
“What’s going on, kid? Did… did Miriam say something that upset you?” Tony asked carefully.
Harry shook his head.
Okay, that was good at least. Hopefully.
“Alright… can you tell me what’s wrong?” Tony asked.
Harry unfolded from the ball, turning his body toward Tony as he took a shuddering breath and let out a heart-wrenching sob.
“I-I… I’m dreaming. T-this is a d-dream,” he said, punctuating it with another sob. “No one e-ever n-notices me, and t-this is t-too good to be t-true.”
“I promise you, Harry, this is not a dream, and I know of a really easy way for you to check, too.” Tony offered.
Harry seemed to be listening, so he carried on.
“My mother used to tell me that if you can reach out and rub your hands together, it’s not a dream. If it’s a dream, your fingers will go through each other.” Tony explained.
Harry lifted his hands and looked at them, but didn’t try to move them together.
Tony reached out, slowly, with his hands open, and gently helped move the boy’s hands until they were touching.
Harry looked up from his hands to Tony, and the man could feel Harry's hands trembling.
“It’s not a dream, kiddo. You’re here, and… and everything is going to be okay, now.” Tony said, trying to provide him with a little reassurance.
Harry nodded and took a big, deep breath that was a bit shuddered, but seemed to help him calm down.
“Are you… I mean, would you… uh.” Tony hesitated. “Do you want a hug?”
Harry didn’t bother responding, moving quicker than Tony thought possible given his position, before wrapping his arms tightly around Tony’s neck. It surprised the man, but he returned the gesture, placing a hand gently on his upper back.
“It’s gonna be okay, Harry.”
---
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Notes:
Hello everyone! I just want to say that the comments on the last chapter were SO inspiring. I'm so freaking glad that y'all didn't hate me for having Pepper make such a swift exit. There were a lot of good points, both for and against her decision, and as someone who does this in their free time, having people willing to take the time to comment their feelings about what I'm writing is just... awesome. So, thank you to everyone who took the time to write something. I hope you enjoy this chapter! We are moving right along :)
(I apologize for the weird spacing whenever something is italicized. I think it's a formatting error that happens when I copy and paste from Word.)
Special shout-out to lurkinshadows, who was the 100th person to bookmark this fic. Thank you so much!
Chapter Text
A Little Magic
Chapter 5
It was over an hour later when Tony left the room, intent on finding Rhodey. He'd left Harry, who had cried himself to sleep again, resting on his pillows, with the StarkPad a few feet away so Jarvis could keep an eye on him. Unfortunately, unlike his properties in the U.S., the penthouse had not been fully integrated with Jarvis's systems, and the A.I. was mostly limited to Tony's lab.
It didn't take long to find the other man, who was in the kitchen, sliding a grilled cheese out of a pan onto a plate that had a pile of chips on it.
"Any chance I can get one of those?" Tony asked, entering the room.
"Yeah, Tones. You can have this one." Rhodey offered, sliding the plate over the island to him. "Harry?" he asked.
"Sleeping. I doubt he'll be down long, but… he's a little overwhelmed. I think it's going to take him a minute to realize he's not imagining all this, and that I don't want to hurt him." Tony replied before biting into the hot, gooey sandwich.
Rhodey prepared another sandwich and placed it in the pan, turning around to face Tony while it sizzled and cooked.
"Mhmm." Rhodey hedged.
Tony took another bite and ate a chip before meeting the man's gaze. Rhodey had one arm crossed across his chest, supporting his other arm and hand, which was covering his mouth, calculating look back in place.
"Ask your questions." Tony requested, setting his half-eaten grilled cheese down.
"I've known you since college, brother. For twenty-five years, I've been able to figure out your motivations for things, especially once I've had some time to really think about them. But this? This is so not you Tony, that I'm struggling. Lay it out for me." Rhodey replied.
Tony sighed, but he had a valid point.
"I don't know if I'm going to be able to explain this… you know how I am with feelings. But I don't know, man… I feel like the universe is telling me to do this. Does that make sense? I feel like everything that's happened these past few years has led me to Harry, to help him. Look… if I tell you something, will you swear on Roberta that it doesn't leave here?" Tony asked.
"You want me to swear on my mom?" Rhodey asked, eyebrows rising in surprise.
"Yes. You cannot tell anyone, especially the government." Tony replied.
Rhode's eyebrows rose even higher.
"Your sandwich is burning," Tony informed him, causing the man to spin around and quickly flip the grilled cheese.
"You're not planning on going rogue on us or anything right?" Rhodey asked eventually while looking over his shoulder.
Tony laughed. "No, no, the U.S. is still my home. It's honestly just Harry, but… the wrong information in the wrong hands, and he becomes a lab experiment. That is when we would have problems."
Rhodey turned back around and finished cooking, putting his sandwich on another plate and grabbing some chips before sitting down next to Tony.
"I swear on my mother, Tony, that this conversation stays between us. Tell me what's going on." Rhodey requested.
"You remember we had to search high and low for that kid yesterday? Well, he didn't move, Rhodey. He was maybe five or ten feet from where he disappeared when I found him." Tony said.
Rhodey looked puzzled. "But how is that possible? We searched that area for twenty minutes before we spread out." He asked.
Tony nodded. "I thought Harry was lying to me when he told me didn't move… so he showed me," Tony explained.
"Well? Don't leave me hanging."
Tony met his concerned eyes and sighed.
"He went invisible. Honest to God, shit you not, invisible. Completely transparent. Whatever it is, he can turn it on and off at will, it just takes a little concentration. I think it's how he's managed to fly under the radar at the orphanage for so long." Tony explained.
Rhodey was stunned, holding his sandwich a few inches from his mouth. Tony waited for him to process what he said, continuing to eat until he'd finished his food before grabbing the man's attention again.
"Rhodey? Come on. If I didn't totally freak out, you can't either." Tony ribbed.
It had the desired effect, and Rhodey looked over at Tony, realizing he'd drifted off.
"Sorry, man, I just- I mean, that's wild. And damn useful." Rhodey said.
"Hey, don't get any big ideas, alright? He's a seven-year-old kid, and I don't plan on asking him to demonstrate his ability for a long time. And it'll be on his terms, not anyone else's." Tony warned, slightly sterner than intended.
"Whoa, whoa, momma bear, take it easy," Rhodey said, holding his hands up. "I'm just saying, if there's anyone who would benefit from having that ability, it'd be a kid in your care. It's surely going to be front-page news that you've got a foster kid in your care, right? I'm a little… well, to be honest man, I'm a little relieved that if something happens, he has a way to hide." Rhodey explained.
Tony really hadn't given the publicity of their situation much thought. He hadn't had the time. But Rhodes was making a good point; there definitely needed to be a conversation on safety and 'hiding spots.'
"Fair enough, but… that's not the only reason I agreed to take him in; it's not even the main reason. I'm not so much of a bastard that I saw he could do something cool and had to have him… I just… I offered to help him before I knew what I was doing and fuck man, when he asked me to take him with me, I saw this totally different side of him. His eyes were brimming with life, full of so much potential…"
"I've never thought I would make a good parent. Hell, I'm easily one of the most selfish people I know, but this is different. I think I can help him; I mean, truly do some good in his life. After the stuff he told me last night, he needs someone. I have the time, money, and connections to do this, but more importantly, I want to do it. I want to help him more than I wanted a cheeseburger in that fucking cave in Afghanistan, and you know how badly I wanted a cheeseburger." Tony explained.
Rhodey laughed but sobered up quickly, picking at the chips on his plate before answering. "You've got my support, brother, however much of it I can give. His secret is safe with me; in fact, if asked, I plan on denying all knowledge of his personal life. Just… if it gets to be too much, call me. Call anyone. But don't give up on him, alright? I've never seen this side of you, and it looks damn good." Rhodey replied.
"Sir?" Jarvis said, interrupting their conversation. "Harry appears to be waking up."
"Perfect timing. Do you mind throwing another sandwich on for him? I wanna go have a quick chat before he comes down." Tony asked.
"Yeah, I got this. You go on." Rhodey replied easily.
---
Tony took the stairs two at a time, feeling better, lighter even, about the situation even though Pepper had quite literally just walked out on him that morning. Knowing that he at least had Rhodey on his side reinforced the feeling that he was doing the right thing.
He'd left Harry's door mostly open when he left, so when he neared the room, he tried to make as much noise as possible to warn of his approach. Harry apparently heard him because he was staring at Tony as he got to the doorway.
"Hey, kid. How was the nap?" Tony asked.
Harry just nodded.
"Mind if I come in?"
Harry shook his head, so Tony entered.
"I was hoping to talk to you before we head down and get you some lunch. Can I sit?" Tony asked.
Harry nodded again, so Tony sat.
"We're going to have to talk about some heavy stuff after lunch, and I didn't want to just spring it on you. I figured I'd come up and give you a little warning." Tony started, then stopped when Harry immediately looked panicked. "Whoa, you're not in trouble, and it's nothing you've done, okay? I just think it would be best if I showed you why I'm so famous, and why people are going to be so interested in you. I want you to be safe above everything else, and the first step to safety is understanding why there might be danger in the first place."
"Okay, Mr. Stark," Harry replied quietly.
"And… well, this is going to sound weird. But I'd like you to keep the tablet with you. I'll get you a phone, that's no big deal, but Jarvis is fully integrated into the StarkPad, and… he can keep an eye on you." Tony explained.
Harry froze.
Tony thought about how that might sound for a moment and wanted to smack himself.
"Okay, I worded that poorly. You obviously don't need to take it with you to the bathroom, or when you're getting changed; nothing like that. I'm really not interested in seeing that, and while Jarvis isn't sentient enough to care, that's just… weird. And it's not a trust thing, either. You could pocket whatever you wanted in this place, and I doubt I'd even notice, let alone care. I'm… well, I'm new to this whole parenting thing, and I would feel better knowing that Jarvis can alert me if you need something." Tony requested. "Does that sound fair? You can tell me no, and I will figure something else out."
Harry looked uncomfortable and shot the tablet a glance out of the corner of his eye.
"Is that how you knew I was awake?" Harry asked.
Tony nodded. "Yes. I asked Jarvis to let me know when you got up."
"But… you weren't watching me?" Harry asked.
"No, I was not. After I laid you down, I left and went to speak to Rhodey." Tony answered, though he could tell Harry wasn't thrilled with the idea of keeping the tablet on him. "How about this? I'm pretty good at making things, so after lunch, we'll go into the lab, and I'll make something that isn't so… intrusive. How about a watch?"
Harry looked much more open to that idea, so Tony latched on to it.
"It'll still be Jarvis enabled, but I won't give him an eye to see out of, how does that sound?" Tony asked.
Harry relaxed a bit and nodded. "That sounds alright, Mr. Stark."
"Awesome," Tony said with a smile. "How do you feel about grilled cheese sandwiches?"
---
They entered the kitchen as Rhodey was finishing cooking, and the man put the sandwich on a plate along with another pile of chips before setting it in front of Harry.
"We already ate, so that's all yours. We had just finished when you got up, actually." Tony explained.
"Hope you like it. It's some of my best work." Rhodey said with a cheerful smile, and indeed, it was perfectly golden brown.
"Thank you, Mr. Rhodes," Harry said, picking up the grilled cheese and taking a bite. He had barely swallowed before he was taking another bite, followed by another just as quick, and it was then that Tony realized he might be thinking they planned on taking away his food. His eyes flicked to Rhodey, and the other man met his gaze; he'd noticed as well.
"We got any more grape juice? My throat is like sandpaper." Tony asked.
"In the fridge, second shelf. I'll take some if you're offering." Rhodey requested.
"Sure. Harry?" Tony asked.
Harry paused mid-bite before gingerly nodding his head. "Yes, please, Mr. Stark."
Tony filled three glasses and passed them around before taking a long draw off his cup.
"So, what're the plans for the rest of the day?" Rhodey asked after having a drink while Harry finished his sandwich and began working on the mound of chips.
"Well, I figured I'd show Harry the lab… and the suit," Tony replied. "I've got schematics for a watch that I hadn't planned on putting into production for a few years, but Harry has graciously agreed to be a beta tester. I figured after that, we'll finalize a shopping list for Harry's things and then… dinner and a movie?"
Rhodey was nodding his agreement by the time Tony was done speaking. "That works for me. I got a text from Happy saying he should be here around dinner time, so I thought I'd go pick up some steaks and B-B-Q? I hope you don't mind me taking over the kitchen while I'm here."
Tony waved him off. "You're a far better cook than I am. Though I suppose now that you're here, Harry, I'll have to learn how to make something half decent. We can't be living off take-out."
"That's alright, Mr. Stark… I'm not picky." Harry said quietly.
No, Tony imagined, he probably wasn't. When you only got one meal a day, you really couldn't afford to be picky.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. But still… I'll, uh, figure something out." Tony replied.
"Alright, I guess I'll see you guys in a few hours then. Any special requests?" Rhodey asked, scooping the Suburban keys off the counter, and checking his pockets for his wallet and phone.
"Something horribly sweet for dessert, maybe?" Tony asked.
"I'll see what I can do," Rhodey said with a laugh. "How 'bout you, kid?"
"Uh, n-no, Mr. Rhodes. I'm fine." Harry replied.
"Alright, well… if you think of anything, have Tony shoot me a text. I don't mind. And please, call me Rhodey." Rhodey said. As he made to leave the kitchen, he paused and squeezed Tony's shoulder before leaning in. "I want to know what he says about the suit!" He stage whispered.
Tony chuckled, and Harry, surprisingly, looked toward the pair with interest.
"Get outta here, Rhodes," Tony said, shooing the man off. Rhodey laughed as he left the kitchen.
"Are you still hungry?" he asked, noting the empty plate.
Harry shook his head, no, so Tony grabbed the plate and set it in the sink.
"Alright then. To the lab!" Tony said enthusiastically.
---
"Back home, or rather, in the States, the interiors of all my buildings have hundreds of micro cameras that allow Jarvis to see and monitor everything. I hadn't thought of using this place for anything other than vacations, so I never bothered to upgrade. I'm guessing you're kind of glad about that fact, though." Tony explained with a light smile to show he didn't mean anything by it.
"I just… don't like feeling like I'm being watched," Harry replied quietly as they arrived at the door to the lab, where Tony made a show of scanning his eye on the security panel, though doing so felt extremely primitive to the man.
"I can understand that. I hope in time you'll get to know J and see that his only purpose is to help, but even if you don't, that's okay, too." Tony said, opening the door and allowing Harry to enter first.
It was pitch black, the light streaming in from the hallway doing little to illuminate the room.
"Uh, J? A little light, please." Tony requested.
"Certainly, sir," Jarvis replied with his disembodied voice, flooding the space with white, slightly blue lights.
"Pull up displays five through nine, throw the blueprint for the experimental watch on the holo, and prep the suit." He ordered as he walked in and the door sealed behind him.
Four displays flicked on immediately, showing lines of code that Tony had been working on the last time he'd been here. Harry gasped, and Tony followed his sight line; he was looking at the holo.
"Pretty cool, huh?" Tony asked, walking over to the display. He grabbed the model of the watch and made a throwing motion with it, scattering the pieces in midair and showing the watch in its disassembled state.
"Wicked," Harry whispered.
Tony smiled brightly at him. "I think we're going to get along splendidly, kid."
"The Mark VI is ready, sir. All preliminary systems are green." Jarvis said, his voice coming from all around them again.
Harry looked around, trying to find the source.
"You wanna see what he looks like, Harry?" Tony asked, trying to guess what he was looking for.
"Isn't he a… computer program… or something?" Harry asked, clearly out of his depth.
"Kind of. That's a good enough explanation for now." Tony replied. "J put yourself up on the holo."
"As you wish, sir," Jarvis replied. The image of the watch disappeared and was replaced with Jarvis's golden ball of code.
"W-what is that?" Harry asked with awe, moving closer.
"That is what Jarvis would look like if he was tangible. He started out as a simple voice user interface. I think I originally wanted to use him to be able to surf the internet using speech, but I just kept adding, and he kept evolving, and now… now he runs my suits… along with a ton of other things." Tony explained.
"Why do you need a computer to run your suit?" Harry questioned, looking at Tony.
"You really have no idea who I am, do you kid?" Tony asked with another smile. "That's… honestly kind of refreshing."
"And is no doubt a blow to your ego." Jarvis quipped.
Tony laughed. "Yeah, yeah, it just means I need to do some more public appearances over here. Why don't you send the suit to the terrace, and we can give Harry a demonstration."
"Of course, sir," Jarvis replied.
"Follow me, kid. You won't want to miss this." Tony requested, walking over to and opening the door before walking out, holding it open for Harry who followed quickly behind him.
He took Harry through the master bedroom, sliding open the thick glass door where Jarvis was just landing the Mark VI.
If Harry had been in awe in the lab, he was in shock now.
His mouth had dropped open, and he was unable to look away from the suit of armor.
Tony laughed softly and walked toward the suit.
"It's in the process of being upgraded, or I'd say we could give it a spin. Ideally, I want it to form around me without accidentally crushing me, but for now, Jarvis is in control unless something bad happens and I'm needed." Tony explained, running a hand over the smooth chest piece.
"Y-you're… you're Iron Man?!" Harry asked.
Tony turned around, and Harry's eyes were blazing with life again, looking at Tony with newfound respect.
"The one and only," Tony replied with another smile, tapping the arc reactor in his chest.
Harry looked down and quickly rubbed his hands together before looking back at Tony.
"I… I can't believe… that's wicked, Mr. Stark," his tone approaching levels Tony had yet to hear.
Tony couldn't help but laugh, giving Harry a shining smile.
"I'm glad to hear you think so, kiddo," Tony said. "I think it's pretty wicked, too."
He gave the chest piece a small pat before he backed away a few feet.
"Let's run a drill, J. Uhhhh, defensive pattern 6b," Tony ordered, picking one of the pre-recorded flight patterns off the top of his head.
The armor immediately dropped into a low crouch, gathering power in the hand and feet repulsors, before blasting into the air in a tight spiral.
A laugh came from his right side, and he looked down to see Harry standing right next to him, watching the Mark VI suit run through the drill with a smile plastered on his face. Seeing him smile and laugh was like seeing a different kid, and Tony vowed, then and there, to do whatever it took to see him like this all the time.
He looked back up and watched with Harry for a minute before the suit began to head back.
"Oh, crap. 6b includes the superhero landing." Tony said, taking a few steps back while guiding Harry by the shoulder to do the same.
"Superhero landing?" Harry asked.
Tony nodded at the suit. "Watch J, you'll see."
Harry trained his eyes back on the armor just in time to watch it land on one knee, one foot, and one hand in perfect balance.
The faceplate of the armor looked up at them, glowing eyes waiting for instruction.
Harry approached it without question, reaching with a hand out before lightly placing it on top of the suit's head.
"That was so cool, Jarvis," Harry said, amazement clearly seeping into his voice.
"Thank you, sir. I aim to please." Jarvis replied.
"Engage stand-by mode, J. Let Harry peek inside," Tony ordered.
Jarvis stood the armor up fully before the hiss of hydraulics could be heard releasing pressure as the suit of armor started to open.
"Blimey," Harry whispered just loud enough for Tony to hear as the internals were barred for him to see. "You really made this, Mr. Stark?" he asked in a normal voice.
"The design and specifications, yes. Jarvis does most of my mechanical work now. I usually tell him what I'm thinking, and he makes it happen," Tony explained.
Harry nodded and looked inside the armor for a few minutes while Tony stood back and watched. If this is what it took to get Harry to come out of his shell, Tony would let him explore all damn day.
"Thank you for showing me, Mr. Stark. That is… really, really awesome." Harry eventually said, backing away and coming to stand next to the man.
"You're welcome, Harry. Why don't we head inside and look at making that watch a reality, now? I know it's not as impressive as Iron Man, but I bet I can still surprise you." Tony suggested.
"I'd like that," Harry replied, looking from the suit over to Tony.
"Pack it up, J. We'll see you inside," Tony commanded.
The suit reformed into a solid piece in a matter of seconds and then blasted off from the roof, disappearing over the side of the building in a swirl of wind.
---
Once they were back inside the lab, the man was reminded that it wasn't just him he had to worry about now.
"Might I suggest taking care of the shopping list before focusing on… other things?" Jarvis asked helpfully.
"Ahh, yeah. Good idea." Tony said, scratching his head, and heading to one of the monitors. "Pull it up on display four."
The screen switched from code to the shopping list immediately, showing a long list of items that was scrolling up and down by itself. Harry took a seat on one of the rolling chairs while Tony looked.
The bulk of it appeared to be clothing, with multiple pairs of everything Harry would need, in every color available. There was a smaller section dedicated to hygiene items, and while Tony skimmed the list, he couldn't help smiling lightly at the Iron Man toothbrush that had been added at some point.
"You or Jarvis?" Tony asked, touching the screen, and highlighting the item.
"Me," Harry answered timidly. "Before I knew…"
"Good choice," Tony said before going back to the list.
There were a few games on the list, along with a handheld gaming system. Toward the bottom, there were several books; some were obviously for Harry and were short stories with a lot of fun pictures, while some were clearly educational books for Tony, some of the titles causing his stomach to twist in knots as he hurriedly scrolled past them.
As he neared the bottom, he got to the bedding and had to pause again.
"Uh, Harry? A dragon?" Tony asked curiously, noting the deep red cloth and golden stitched dragon on a comforter.
"I don't have to get that, Mr. Stark. I-I just…" Harry trailed off.
"It's fine, kid, I'm just surprised. I think it looks cool." Tony clarified, pressing on. "This all looks great, actually. Anything else you can think of?"
"No, Mr. Stark. That's already so much, and I don't have any money…" Harry trailed off again, wrapping his arms around himself and looking away.
Tony looked over at him for a moment, feeling totally off-center now. He backed up until his legs hit the small sofa positioned on one side of the wall.
"Harry, please look at me." Tony requested, feeling like eye contact was necessary for this. He waited until Harry turned in the chair and looked at him, though he could tell he was uncomfortable once he had done so.
"First things first, alright? I have more money than I am ever going to be able to spend. In fact, I have so much, I do whatever I can to give it away; so even if you had money to give me, I wouldn't feel comfortable taking it. All I want from you in return, all I'm ever going to want from you, is for you to be happy and healthy. Okay?" Tony asked.
He waited again, and Harry eventually nodded. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.
"And… now is probably a good time to talk about why people were so interested in taking your picture this morning. Since you know I'm Iron Man, does it make a little more sense?" Tony asked.
Harry nodded again and relaxed infinitesimally. "It's because you're a hero," he said.
"That's… part of it, absolutely." Tony agreed, though he still didn't feel like one most of the time. "Another part is because of how I've behaved in the past and people, especially reporters, know that they can make a lot of money selling stories about me and what I'm doing, so I'm gonna level with you 100% here, kiddo. I can try and try and try, but I won't be able to keep you hidden from them forever. Someone at some point is going to get your picture and it's gonna be sold to the highest bidding paper… overnight, people are going to know who you are. It's kind of a scary thing, losing the ability to walk down the street without someone recognizing you."
"I made you a promise last night that we would do whatever we can to make this work, and I stand by that a thousand percent, but I wasn't totally upfront with you then. I could be putting you in danger, kiddo; someone could try and take you away to try and hurt me and I hadn't given this a single thought last night… so I… I understand if this is too much. I know you don't like being watched and staying with me is going to be like being under a microscope sometimes. Not all the time, but enough that you're probably going to notice. If… if you want me to figure something else out, find you somewhere safe, where you can be happy and healthy without the world watching you…" Tony trailed off.
Harry was quiet for a long time, looking down at his hands that had come together at some point. Tony hoped he was thinking about what he said, not because Tony wanted him to leave, but because he wanted him to understand what staying with Tony would entail, and the man forced himself to wait until Harry made the first move.
At first, he didn't respond verbally, choosing instead to move out of the rolling chair he was in and sit next to Tony.
"You've been quiet for a while, kiddo. Whatcha thinking about?" Tony eventually asked when Harry didn't move after settling in.
"Mr. Stark, I… I want to stay here; I want to stay with you… if you still want me." Harry answered with his attention focused solely on the hands he was wringing in his lap. "I don't care who finds out."
A weight, one Tony didn't realize had settled on his chest, was lifted at hearing his words. Tony knew how he felt about everything, but hearing Harry affirm that he was not scared of the press and losing his anonymity…
"That's that decision made, then," Tony affirmed easily. "We, uh…" Tony trailed off, feeling awkward. "Well, we both want the same thing… and Rhodey would be absolutely devastated if you left now. I guess you're stuck with me, Harry."
Harry looked up from his hands at him, and Tony nodded.
"Why don't we get started on that watch?" The man asked.
---
"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Colonel Rhodes is requesting your presence in the kitchen," Jarvis said.
Tony looked down at the watch, which had just finished printing and currently read 5:32 PM.
"I'll be damned. Time really flies when you're having fun." Tony said, stretching his arms above his head and popping his back in the process.
Harry nodded his agreement and did a small stretch himself.
They had spent the better part of nearly four hours in the lab; Harry had been a surprisingly engaged lab mate for a seven-year-old. At first, Tony didn't know if the kid was just trying to prove something to him, or if he was genuinely just thirsty for knowledge, but as time passed, Tony was certain of one thing; Harry was a damn fast learner.
"I think this should work for now. There might be a few small bugs that need to be worked out, so if you happen to notice anything acting weird, let me know and we can fix it." Tony suggested.
"I will, Mr. Stark." Harry agreed.
"Alrighty then, it's all yours," Tony said, taking the sleek Stark watch off the workbench and handing it to Harry. "Don't forget that Jarvis is linked to it, alright? And that it's got a self-renewing battery if it gets some light strong enough to charge it. I doubt you'll notice any problems, but we can address them later if you do."
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, taking the watch from him. He wasted no time strapping it to his small wrist, and Jarvis spoke again.
"Systems check reports normal function, sirs. Blood pressure 110/58; heart rate 85. Vitals are steady and well within normal ranges." Jarvis reported.
"Thanks, J. All good, Harry?" Tony asked.
Harry nodded.
"Alright. Let's go see what Rhodey managed to find." Tony said. "Kill the lights, J. Run a couple simulations on project MK7 and CEI 4-12; log the results and then shut down for the evening."
"Right away, sir," Jarvis replied.
---
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Notes:
Surprise update 2 years later? Trying a new writing/ editing style - let me know if you prefer it to my old shtick.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tony and Harry returned downstairs to the sounds of Rhodey and Happy bickering.
“No, you listen to me, James. Salt and pepper are the only things needed for a good steak,” Happy said loudly.
“And I’m telling you, Harold, that I am going to add garlic and onion powder, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” Rhodey replied, matching the other man’s tone.
“Alright you two, settle down. What are we, five?” Tony interrupted, settling a hand on Harry’s shoulder, noticing the way he was slightly cringing away from the yelling. “Rhodey, leave the spices off his steak if he doesn’t want it. Happy, quit being such a baby. God, I cannot believe you two just made me be the adult here.”
Which, considering that he was now the foster parent of a seven-year-old, probably wasn’t the worst thing, but it came close. He could parent Harry, sure. He didn’t need to parent his two closest friends as well.
“Sorry, boss.” Happy said, sounding anything but apologetic.
“Harry, this is Happy,” Tony introduced, waving a hand at the man. “Happy is my chauffeur, bodyguard, personal assistant, and as of last week, head of security for Stark Industries. Happy, meet Harry - my foster kid.”
Happy looked properly abashed now. He shuffled forward with his hand outstretched, only for Harry to shrink back and hide behind Tony. Happy froze, his eyes flicking up at Tony in question.
“Maybe later, Hap,” Tony said, giving him a look he hoped the man understood.
Happy nodded, letting the awkward moment pass, and gave Harry a small wave instead.
“Nice to meet you, kid. I hope you like having your steak absolutely ruined.”
“Oh, for the love of-“ Rhodey began, then cut himself off with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever, man. You wouldn’t know flavor if it hit you like a sack of bricks.”
“Questionable seasonings aside,” Tony said pointedly, “What’s for dinner, Rhodey-bear?”
“Steak, obviously,” Rhodey replied with a cheeky smirk. “More specifically, some beautifully marbled ribeyes. I figured we’d keep it simple - mashed potatoes, some fresh broccoli. I couldn’t decide between treacle tart and sticky toffee pudding for dessert, so I grabbed both.”
“God, you spoil us. That sounds amazing,” Tony replied, sighing in relief when Harry edged back to his side. Tony moved forward, past Happy, and Harry clung to him until they both sat at the island. “Sound good, kid?”
Harry nodded, his gaze fixed on the desserts sitting on the counter. Tony watched him subtly rub his hands together before looking away, choosing to watch Rhodey move around the kitchen with ease.
“What can I do?” Happy offered, stepping into the kitchen to wash his hands.
---
Tony was nearly as quiet as Harry while Rhodey and Happy cooked, joking and sniping at each other in good humor. He found his attention divided between their shenanigans and Harry, who watched them with open bewilderment.
He really wished he knew what was going on inside Harry’s head.
When they simultaneously left the kitchen and headed toward the grill, Tony leaned on one elbow and turned so that he was facing Harry.
“They’re a little crazy, but they’re good guys. You get used to it,” Tony explained, watching Harry’s expression go carefully blank again, getting the opposite reaction he wanted but not commenting on it. “So, tell me a little about you, kiddo. Are you in school?”
Harry nodded, “Year 2.”
“Convert that for me, J. What is year 2 compared to US schooling,” Tony requested with a tap on his watch.
“First grade, sir,” Jarvis replied smoothly.
“Ahh. Do you like it?” Tony followed up as the two men reemerged from the terrace, carrying a plate of sizzling steaks and filling the kitchen with a mouth-watering aroma.
“It’s okay.” Harry quietly replied with a shrug. “I- I don’t usually go.”
“These just need a little rest and then we’ll be all set,” Rhodey interrupted. “Hands washed and butts at the dinner table, please; food in 10.”
Harry quickly scooted off his chair and darted upstairs before Tony could ask anything else, causing the man to sigh lightly.
“Rhodey said he didn’t come from a good home.” Happy said as Harry disappeared. “Sorry for spooking him earlier, I just didn’t think about it.”
Tony shook his head, giving his friend a small smile.
“No harm, no foul, Hap. It’s an adjustment for everyone.”
---
Dinner was… interesting. Harry came down exactly ten minutes after he went upstairs and hovered next to Tony, staring at the table hungrily. The three men had already taken their places, with a plate piled high for Harry beside Tony, and the boy seemed to be waiting for permission.
“Harry?” Tony prompted gently, realizing he would probably need to keep reminding him it was okay to eat. “Have a seat, bud. It’s okay.”
Harry complied quickly, sliding into the chair and looking ridiculously small as he did.
Tony didn’t know what kind of neglect it took to shrink a seven-year-old down to the size of a five-year-old, but one thing was certain: if he ever got his hands on the people who had called themselves Harry’s family, they would regret it.
“Would you like a pillow to sit on?” Tony asked, leaning close and speaking softly so as not to embarrass him.
Harry hesitated, then nodded tentatively.
Tony scooted back, went to the living room, and grabbed a decorative pillow off the sofa before returning. Harry lifted himself just enough to let Tony slide the pillow under him, raising him high enough to see over the edge of the table.
Rhodey and Happy had gone quiet during the exchange, watching with equally incredulous expressions.
Tony ignored them, turning his attention back to Harry.
“You don’t have to eat everything, but eat as much as you’d like. We’ve got dessert later too.”
Harry nodded, picking up his fork and knife. Tony watched for a moment, making sure he could handle cutting the meat, then shifted his gaze to his two friends. His pointed look was enough; they dropped their eyes and resumed chatting, the scrape of cutlery and soft laughs filling the dining room.
---
When dinner was done and the kitchen was cleaned up, they all drifted to the living room. Tony flopped onto the sofa, letting out a soft groan of contentment, and before he could even settle, Harry hopped up next to him. The boy pressed close enough that their shoulders brushed, and Tony felt that familiar tug in his chest - the kid actually wanted to be near him. Happy and Rhodey had claimed the recliners and kicked their feet up, relaxed as if this was any ordinary night.
“What are we watchin’, boss?” Happy asked, voice easy, no trace of the day’s business in it.
Tony leaned back, thinking aloud. “Hmmmmm. I dunno. Got any suggestions, Harry?”
The sudden attention seemed to shrink Harry in place. He shook his head quickly, eyes dropping to the floor. Tony shifted slightly, draping his arm gently over the boy’s shoulders.
“That’s alright, kid. Ever seen Shrek?”
Another shake of Harry’s head, and the choice was made. Tony sank further into the sofa, kicked his socked feet onto the coffee table, and hit play. Smash Mouth blasted, and for a moment he wondered if it was too loud, then glanced down. The usual mask Harry wore - the wall, the disinterest - was gone. His green eyes were wide, fixed on the screen, completely absorbed. Tony let himself smile, quietly thinking, Yeah, I can do this. I really can.
---
Half an hour in, Rhodey disappeared into the kitchen, returning with plates balanced in his hands.
“They both looked good, so I got a bit of each,” he said, smiling.
Tony tore his gaze from the screen long enough to take a plate, passing one to Harry. “Thanks, Rhodey.”
“Thank you,” Harry mumbled, still slightly unsure, but accepting it.
Tony waited until Harry took a bite before digging into his own, watching the boy savor the treacle tart with a small, satisfied smile. Tony felt his own lips twitch into a smile.
“That’s really good,” Harry murmured, grabbing Rhodey’s attention. “Thank you.”
“No problemo, kid,” Rhodey said, tipping his head and returning to the movie.
---
Forty-five minutes later, Tony’s eyelids were heavy as Shrek and Fiona reached their happily-ever-after. A glance down showed Harry’s head bobbing as he tried to fight sleep. Tony chuckled quietly to himself.
“Alright, that’s it. I’m exhausted. Time for bed!” he announced as the credits rolled.
Harry jerked upright, all sleepiness wiped away. The mask—cold, indifferent—snapped back into place. Tony felt that familiar pang of worry but said nothing, just letting the boy adjust.
“Can you guys take care of things down here while I get Harry into bed?” Tony asked, glancing at his friends.
Happy made a shooing gesture with his hand.
“We got it, boss. Go to bed, old man. See you in the morning.”
“Night, Hap. Night, Rhodey-bear,” Tony replied with a grin.
“Night, Tones. Night, kid,” Rhodey said.
“Good night,” Harry replied quietly.
Tony led him upstairs, pausing at the bedroom. Harry went straight to the edge of his bed and sat down.
“So, uh… your new clothes should be here tomorrow. I can grab you a toothbrush to use in the meantime. Why don’t you get changed for bed, and I’ll be right back,” Tony suggested.
Harry nodded, and Tony pulled the door closed behind him. He walked to the master bathroom, pulled open the middle drawer of the vanity, and grabbed an unopened toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. Deciding to give Harry a little privacy, he changed into his own night clothes as well. He set the toothbrush and toothpaste on his bed, then stepped into the massive closet and pulled down a soft cotton pajama set. The plush fabric was a welcome contrast to the rough denim he’d worn all day.
Content with his choice, he scooped the items off the bed and made the short trip back to Harry’s room. He knocked softly.
“You decent, kid?” Tony asked.
“Yeah, you can come in,” Harry replied.
Tony opened the door to find him in the same spot, now dressed in a shirt several sizes too big and a pair of shorts that looked as old as he was. Tony frowned slightly at how ragged the clothes were but refrained from commenting. Harry’s new clothes would arrive tomorrow, and he’d never have to wear those rags again.
“Found you a toothbrush and some toothpaste,” Tony offered, holding them out.
“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Harry said quietly, taking them and retreating to the bed.
“Can I get you anything else? You good for tonight?” Tony asked, uncertain what was expected of him.
Harry shook his head. “I’m okay, Mr. Stark. Thank you.”
“Alright. If you need anything, just ask JARVIS or come get me. My room’s right across from yours,” Tony reminded him. “Sleep well, kiddo.”
Harry nodded. “Good night, Mr. Stark.”
Tony hesitated, wanting to offer some kind of comfort. He wanted to see something, anything, other than the cold, lifeless mask Harry wore. But he didn’t want to push and risk a bad reaction. Truth was, he didn’t even know what comfort he could give.
So he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him, and rested his head against it when it clicked shut.
He thought about heading back downstairs, but he’d slept terribly the night before, his body aching in ways it hadn’t for months. Instead, he backed away from Harry’s room and slipped into his own bed, sighing as the mattress hugged him.
His eyes drifted to the empty side of the bed, and a different sigh slipped out.
Pepper should be here. He’d forced himself not to think about her all day, refusing to let her harsh words and abrupt departure affect him - especially around Harry. But now, alone in the dark, he couldn’t avoid the hurt she’d left behind.
“Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want kids?”
No, Pepper, it hadn’t. Every time she’d interacted with children, she’d been nothing but bright smiles and happiness. Realizing it had all been an act… that surprised Tony, now that he had the chance to reflect on it. Sure, they’d never talked seriously about having kids, but he’d never pictured a future where they didn’t eventually settle down and have a few of their own.
Was it Harry, specifically, that set her off? Or was this just the last straw in a long line of ultimatums he’d thrown at her? Maybe fostering Harry was rash, even by his standards. But he couldn’t regret it - not for a second. One day. One full day with the kid and he was already hooked. Harry was sharp, wickedly funny when he let his guard down, and that was with his walls still firmly in place. Tony couldn’t wait to see the kid a few months from now, when he felt safe enough to stop hiding behind that mask.
And that mask—God, that was another thing. Tony had never met anyone, adult or child, who could shut themselves off so completely that they looked hollow. Empty. Lifeless. Not like Harry could. Was that another power? Invisibility, emotional shutdown… and whatever the hell had happened in the SUV this morning. Harry had said Pepper thought too loud, and that Tony would end up hating him for it. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
He rubbed a hand over his face, dragging it through his hair as he drew in a long, calming breath.
Two days. In two days, he’d managed to acquire a seven-year-old with unknown powers and lost the woman who was supposed to be his partner.
But he could handle this. He had to - because Harry had asked him for help. And for Tony, it really was that simple.
---
The next few days settled into a routine.
Tony was always the first one up - usually with the sunrise, which was a brand-new experience for him - and he’d peek into Harry’s room. More often than not, he’d find bright green eyes already staring back at him, eyes that dulled almost immediately. Tony refused to let it bother him. Instead, he greeted the boy cheerfully every morning, nudging him to shower and come downstairs when he was ready.
Breakfasts were quiet affairs. Harry rarely spoke unless asked a direct question, and after the meal Tony would retreat to his workshop - where Harry usually trailed after him. In the lab, the kid loosened up. He asked questions about how things worked, hovered close while Tony tinkered, and sometimes even offered small suggestions when Tony invited his opinion. Eventually, JARVIS would cut in and remind them to eat. Then it was back downstairs for lunch with Rhodey and Happy, followed by afternoons spent playing games or burying themselves in books.
That was something that surprised Tony most about Harry: the way he’d take any book - didn’t matter the subject - curl into a corner, and lose himself in it for hours.
One afternoon, about a week after Harry moved in, Rhodey caught Tony at the kitchen island as he flipped through Parenting for Dummies.
“Hey, Tones. I know I said I’d stay until you didn’t want me here, but I just got a call from Washington. They need me back,” Rhodey said.
Tony looked up from the book, catching the flicker of worry in his friend’s expression.
“No worries, brother. I was starting to wonder how long they’d let you stick around. Happy and I have it covered here,” Tony replied.
Rhodey eyed him critically for a moment, then nodded.
“Alright. I’ll get my stuff squared away and head out. Promise me you’ll call if you need anything?”
“’Course, Rhodey. Thanks for everything this past week. We’re gonna miss you—especially your cooking,” Tony said with a genuine smile.
Rhodey laughed and squeezed his arm. “I’m proud of you, man. Honestly. I never pictured you as a dad, as someone responsible, but… it looks good on you.”
Heat crept into Tony’s cheeks at the unexpected praise. It landed differently than it had a week ago, and he had to duck his head.
“Yeah, yeah. Go on, get out of here,” he muttered, his usual snark falling flat.
Rhodey chuckled again and left the kitchen
---
That was the first night Jarvis woke Tony.
“Sir? Sir, wake up,” Jarvis’s disembodied voice said, breaking into Tony’s subconscious and startling him awake.
“J? What’s wrong? What time is it?” Tony asked sleepily.
“Just after two a.m., sir. I’ve detected a spike in blood pressure and heart rate from Harry. I believe he is experiencing the fight-or-flight response in his sleep.”
“A nightmare, you mean?” Tony asked, his brain snapping awake as he processed the information.
“Indeed, sir.”
Tony threw off the blankets, shoved his feet into his slippers, and pulled his housecoat tight around his shoulders.
He padded across the house and stopped outside Harry’s door. Muffled cries leaked through the wood. He didn’t hesitate to push it open, and his stomach tightened at the sight: tears streaming down Harry’s face, sweat plastering messy hair to his forehead, eyes clenched shut.
Tony sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand gently on the boy’s shoulder.
“Harry? Harry, buddy, wake up,” he said softly.
Harry only let out a strangled cry.
Tony gave a firmer shake. “Hey, kiddo. It’s just a dream. Wake up.”
Still nothing. He leaned closer, voice firmer now. “Harry. Come on, wake up.”
This time Harry’s eyes flew open—wild, panicked, unfocused. For a split second, there was no recognition in them at all. Then Tony was slammed backward, thrown into the wall as if struck by a giant fist. His lungs emptied in a single painful rush.
“M-m-Mr. Stark? I-I-I’m s-s-sorry,” Harry stammered, words tangled in tears and panic. “I-I thought… I d-didn’t know where I was.”
Tony gasped for air before pushing himself upright. “It’s okay, Harry,” he managed, moving cautiously closer but pausing within reach. “Are you okay?”
“A-am I?” Harry asked in disbelief.
Tony reached out again, more careful this time. “You were having a nightmare. Or maybe a night terror. But are you okay?”
Harry’s face crumpled. “I-I think I wet the bed. I’m s-s-sorry.”
The shame in his voice hurt Tony far more than the magical shove had. He pulled the shaking boy into his arms and held him close as Harry broke down.
He’d just read about this exact thing—that when traumatized kids finally felt safe, symptoms often came crashing out. For once, Tony was grateful for the awkward parenting books. Without them, he’d have had no idea what to do.
“It’s okay, Harry. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” he murmured, not knowing if it helped but saying it anyway.
Harry clung to him, sobbing until his breathing slowed and he slumped against Tony’s chest.
When Tony finally eased back, Harry mirrored the motion, but he kept his eyes stubbornly downcast. Tony’s mind scrambled through the book again: Stay calm. Let them talk if they want to.
“Why don’t you get changed, buddy, and then we’ll… figure something out,” Tony suggested, hating the uncertainty in his own voice.
Harry moved stiffly, like a puppet on strings, before slipping into the bathroom. While he changed, Tony stripped the bed, tossing the soiled sheets and blanket into a pile. He tried blotting the mattress before giving up – that was an issue for the morning.
When Harry reappeared in fresh pajamas, he looked lost. Tony offered his hand, and Harry took it automatically. Tony considered his own bedroom, then decided against it, worried about sending the wrong signal. Instead, he led them downstairs to the sofa.
“Come here, kiddo,” Tony coaxed. Harry sagged against him, head resting on his chest.
The house was silent but for their breathing and the steady tick of a clock. Eventually Tony asked, as gently as he could:
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Harry stiffened but didn’t pull away. After a long breath, he whispered, “It was my uncle. Same as always. Only this time… he was here. Taking me away.”
Tony stayed quiet. He didn’t trust himself to say the right thing.
“I tried to run, but he chased me, and then he was s-so angry. Running always made it worse.” His voice cracked. “I’m s-sorry if I h-hurt you.”
“You didn’t. I’m okay, Harry. Really.”
“I’m a freak.”
The words were so soft Tony almost missed them.
“No,” Tony said firmly. “You’re not. You’re special. Unique. One of the coolest kids I’ve ever met, actually.”
Harry let out a wet, disbelieving chuckle.
“I mean it. You’re brave, you’re smart, you’ve got a wicked sense of humor when you feel safe enough to show it - and that’s before we even get to your… powers. Do you have a name for them?”
“...I always thought it was like magic,” Harry whispered.
“So you’ve got a little magic.” Tony squeezed his shoulder. “But listen - you’re still just a boy. With feelings. Thoughts. Dreams. You’re human. Don’t let the garbage those people fed you tell you otherwise.”
Harry sniffled and pressed closer.
“What they did to you wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. But I promise you this: I will never let them hurt you again.”
Harry shivered but nodded. His tears finally soaked through Tony’s shirt.
“I have to tell you something else,” he whispered after a long silence.
“I’m listening.”
Harry drew a ragged breath. “I c-can read people’s minds.” The words were so faint Tony almost missed them.
Shock rolled through him. His grip loosened, and Harry instantly panicked, starting to pull away with a sob. Tony pulled him back in, holding him tighter.
“Like… all the time?” Tony asked quickly, latching onto the first question that came to mind.
Harry shook his head. After a pause he muttered, “Usually I have to be looking into their eyes. But sometimes, if someone’s really mad or upset, I hear it anyway.”
Tony thought back - the orphanage, the ride home, Pepper’s thoughts, his own first reaction. Of course Harry had known. And instead of feeling violated, Tony realized this was how he’d survived.
“That must’ve come in handy,” Tony said eventually. “So, the day we met - you read my mind?”
Harry nodded.
Tony huffed a laugh. “That’s… actually pretty cool.”
Harry pulled back and blinked at him. “W-what?”
“I mean it. Now you’ll know I’m never lying to you. About anything.”
For the first time that night, real light sparked in Harry’s eyes.
Tony absentmindedly wondered if he would feel it when Harry read his mind, now that he knew about it. Would he feel a foreign sensation he had been ignoring?
“You’re one of the most honest adults I’ve ever met, Mr. Stark.” Harry whispered. “I… I trust you.”
Warmth spread through Tony. He didn’t feel worthy of it, but he’d protect that trust with everything he had.
“Thank you, Harry. And please - call me Tony.”
Harry studied him for a long moment, then nodded and tucked himself back against Tony’s side.
“I’m tired,” he mumbled.
Tony glanced at the clock. Hours had passed. “Would you feel okay sleeping in my bed? I’d suggest yours, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to embarrass him.
Harry froze, then sagged again and nodded.
When Tony stood, Harry grabbed his hand. He didn’t speak, and Tony didn’t push.
In the bedroom, Harry hesitated before climbing onto the far edge of the mattress and laying rigidly. Tony sat nearby.
“Harry, look at me,” he said gently.
Harry turned, eyes locking onto his.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Harry’s lip wobbled, but he nodded, relaxing slightly.
Tony nodded, and laid down, sighing into the mattress.
“Good night, kiddo.”
“Good night, Mr. St- T-Tony.”
When Tony woke again, sunlight filling the room, Harry was curled against his side, arms wrapped tight around his hand, finally sleeping peacefully.
And damn him if Tony’s heart didn’t melt.
Maybe - just maybe - he could do this parenting thing after all.
Notes:
Y'alls comments are freaking lovely. Thank you.
(Special shout out to Darkchanteuse who was the 500th person to leave kudos! Y'all are so awesome!)
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Notes:
Y'all were so kind in the comments on that last chapter that I just had to keep going. I'm running out of time before I uproot my life again, so let's see how far I can take this for the next few days :)
This is the first half of the chapter. Hope you like it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It had been a few days since Tony had woken Harry from his night terror, and things were going much better, if he did say so himself. Harry had opened up more after telling Tony about his magic, and Tony had been able to ease his fears that anything was wrong with him.
It was now mid afternoon on Tuesday, and Tony was in the kitchen with Happy, “helping” make dinner. Mostly, he was stirring and tasting while Happy did most of the work. Harry was sat at the island, reading a book labeled Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief.
The kid had been reading almost nonstop all day, and Tony was thoroughly happy that he had found something he actually enjoyed.
His phone ringing interrupted something Happy was saying about the news.
M. Webber – Social Worker
“Sorry, Hap. I gotta take this,” Tony said, accepting the call while walking into the living room. He dropped into the couch. “Good afternoon, Miriam.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Stark,” Miriam replied.
“How are you doing this afternoon? What can I do for you?” Tony asked.
“I’m doing well, thank you. I just wanted to check in on you and Harry, see how things are going. I also have a couple of matters we should touch on.”
“Of course. Uh, well, I think things have been going incredibly well, honestly, given the circumstances. I admit that for the first few days, I felt like I was simply treading water, not really knowing what to do. But Harry and I have really connected since then.”
Tony glanced back toward the kitchen then, where Harry had just laughed out loud at something in his book. His heart soared.
Happy, still chopping vegetables, looked over at the boy with a small smile before turning back to the cutting board.
“I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Stark. So, in your opinion, Harry has been adjusting well to the new living arrangement?” Miriam followed up.
“Very much so. It hasn’t been without its bumps, especially when it comes to eating or sleeping, but we’ve been managing those hurdles whenever they come up.”
“Excellent, excellent. Well, I think that answers the question about whether you wanted to withdraw your offer to foster young Harry.”
“I certainly hope so,” Tony said with a small laugh.
“Good. I had little doubt you’d be able to provide for him, but fostering a child is difficult, and many people find themselves in over their heads. If that were the case, it’s always better to remove the child from the foster home before anyone becomes too attached. I suppose that just leaves us with the formalities now.”
“Shoot,” Tony said, tensing with anticipation, just as Happy began whistling a cheery tune from the kitchen.
“Have you had a chance to arrange a GP visit for Harry? I was reviewing his file and I’m disturbed to say he hasn’t been to a doctor since shortly after he arrived at the children’s home.”
“Uh, no, actually. I’ll get that taken care of immediately.” Tony tapped his watch. “JARVIS, get me a list of the highest rated children’s doctors in London. Specialties and pictures attached, please.”
“Right away, sir,” JARVIS replied.
Miriam chuckled on the other end of the line. “I can appreciate that level of efficiency. My second—and most important—matter is Harry’s schooling. While reviewing his file, I was disturbed to find he’s largely been absent since the beginning of term. I understand that had nothing to do with you, but have you had a chance to look into what’s available to him?”
That Tony had done.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I had a talk with Harry a few days ago where he mentioned he was in year two but hadn’t really been going to school. Unfortunately, our conversation was brief, but I’ve taken it upon myself to research London’s schools in the meantime. If possible, I’d like to get Harry enrolled in a prep school with smaller classrooms. I can’t say I have any interest in sending him to a public school where he has less security and a higher chance of being found by the media.”
“So long as you understand you’ll be footing the bill for any specialized schooling, that’s perfectly fine. Off the top of my head, prep schools in London run anywhere from £6,000 to £10,000 per term, which is not an inconsiderable amount.”
Tony wanted to laugh but knew that would be rude. Not everyone was as fortunate as he was.
“It’s a small price to pay for Harry’s education, safety, and my peace of mind,” Tony said instead. “What documents will I need to get him enrolled?”
Tony spent the next twenty-five minutes on the phone with Miriam, going over information necessary to get Harry into school, as well as the documents he would need for a doctor’s appointment.
“So, just to recap,” Miriam said at last. “You agree to get Harry in for a GP visit within the next 30 days. I’ll be sending copies of the documents you’ll need to register him with the doctor, both to you and to your lawyer. I’ll also include copies of the court order that placed Harry in the custody of the foster group I represent, the order releasing him to your care, and the details for your local authority’s Virtual School team, who should be able to help you navigate getting Harry registered at whichever academy you choose.”
“Perfect, Miriam. That all sounds good to me,” Tony replied genuinely. “Was there anything else for today?”
“No, Mr. Stark. That covers everything. Just a heads up—I’ll be stopping by sometime in the next six to eight weeks to have an interview with Harry and make sure he’s adjusting well. Sooner, if the GP visit turns up anything concerning.”
“We look forward to seeing you then, Miriam. And please—call me Tony.” He smiled faintly. “I truly appreciate your help with this. I’d actually been planning to give you a call in a couple of days to ask about schooling options.”
“I’m glad I could help. Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any further questions, Tony—and give Harry my regards. Have a good evening.”
“You too, Miriam.”
Tony hung up and let himself sink back into the couch, releasing a steady breath. Anxiety had been coursing through him almost the entire conversation, like he was a kid about to get scolded by a teacher.
“Everything okay, boss? I couldn’t help but overhear who you were talking to,” Happy said, poking his head around the corner.
“Everything’s fine, Hap. Just some formalities. Gotta get Harry to the doctor and signed up for school,” Tony replied.
Happy nodded. “Alright. Well, dinner’s been done for about five minutes. We’re ready when you are.”
---
Tony waited until after breakfast the next day to bring up the phone call.
“Hey, kid,” he said, dropping onto the terrace sofa beside Harry. The boy was stretched out in the early April sun, and though it was barely sixty degrees, the warmth was enough to take the edge off the chill.
“Hey, Tony,” Harry replied, squinting up at him.
“I got a call from your social worker yesterday,” Tony began. He felt Harry tense and offered him a quick smile. “Relax, it’s nothing bad. Just some things we’ve gotta sort out. She mentioned you haven’t been to a doctor in a while…and that school’s kind of unavoidable.”
“Oh.” Harry frowned and shut his eyes again. “I see.”
Tony let out a short laugh. “So which one’s the problem? School or the doctor?”
Harry lifted one shoulder. “Doctor’s fine. I just…don’t like school much.”
“Fair. I didn’t either,” Tony said easily. “Got shipped off to boarding school when I was seven, graduated high school at fourteen, MIT at seventeen. Being the smallest, youngest kid in the room sucked. But it also pushed me to finish faster, so…silver linings.”
Harry’s eyes cracked open again, curiosity written all over his face. “Do I have to go back to my old school?”
“No way,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Not happening. I was thinking private school—prep school, I guess they call it here.”
Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow. Tony chuckled.
“What’s running through your head, kiddo?”
“Isn’t that really expensive?” Harry asked.
Tony waved it off. “Not really. And this one place I’ve been looking at? I like their whole vibe. Small classes, plenty of teachers, lots of activities. They’re big on creativity instead of cookie-cutter lessons.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, leaning forward now.
“They cover the basics—math, English, science, history, PE—but mix it up with projects, debates, swimming comps, plays, concerts, art shows. Coding too, which we both know you like. And if you’re into it, they’ve got clubs for just about everything.”
Harry dropped his gaze to his hands. “That…doesn’t sound so bad.”
Tony smiled, ruffling his hair gently.
“Word is, it’s a great school. And if you end up hating it, we’ll figure something else out. Deal?”
Harry nodded. “When would I start?”
“Not sure yet—probably a couple of weeks. I already booked your GP visit for Friday morning. Just a physical, check your shots. If you’re okay with this school, I’ll call today and get the ball rolling.”
Harry looked up at him, green eyes shining with a spark Tony rarely saw.
“Let’s do it.”
---
The phone barely had a chance to dial out before someone picked up.
“Good morning. South Fulham Prep School, this is Chloe speaking. How may I assist you?”
“Good morning, Chloe. My name is Tony Stark, and I’m interested in getting my foster child enrolled in your curriculum,” Tony replied smoothly.
“Are you having me on, mate?” Chloe asked, her thick accent coming through.
“No?” Tony said, bemused. This was one of London’s most prestigious prep schools. Did they not have exclusive clientele? “I assure you, I am Tony Stark and I’m calling about enrollment.”
“R-right, sorry. Uh, would you mind holding a minute, Mr. Stark?” she asked.
Tony raised an eyebrow and laughed. “No, I don’t mind.”
Soft jazz played in the background while he waited. Tony glanced down at the papers Miriam had emailed him, double-checking the list of required documents. The woman at the Virtual School had given him a detailed rundown, and when he mentioned the school he’d already chosen, she’d had gone silent long enough that he had to check his phone to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. Apparently, the idea of talking to Tony Stark was… disarming.
What was so unbelievable?
A few moments later, Chloe returned to the line.
“Sorry about that, Mr. Stark. I’ve got the list of information we’ll need from you to enroll your child. You’re aware there are only three months left before term ends, correct? Full-term tuition is still required, and enrollment is subject to approval.”
“That’s fine,” Tony said. “I chose your school because of its reputation for child safety and privacy. If you’d prefer I went somewhere else, I can always consider other options.”
“No, no, that’s all fine, Mr. Stark. We’d love to have you. I just thought it prudent to clarify the enrollment process,” Chloe said. “Why don’t we schedule a meet-and-greet? You can tour the campus and get to know us a bit, and we can meet your child in person.”
So, basically, they wanted to make sure it really was Tony.
“That sounds perfect. Does Friday afternoon work?” Tony asked.
---
The rest of the week passed quickly now that they had a plan for Friday. Their routine stayed steady: breakfast with Happy, mornings in the lab, afternoons filled with books or games, dinner together, and a movie to close the day. Tony had made it his personal mission to catch Harry up on every cartoon movie ever made. Eventually, there’d be Star Wars and Lord of the Rings—but all in good time.
Thursday night, however, JARVIS woke him again.
“Sir? Wake up,” the AI said smoothly. “I believe Harry is experiencing another episode.”
Tony was already halfway out of bed before the words fully registered. He padded quickly to Harry’s room and had just opened the door when a sharp scream split the air, making him flinch.
Harry was tangled in the sheets, damp hair plastered to his forehead, his small body twitching with restless movements. Tony hesitated for a second, remembering the last time magic had flung him across the room. But he was Iron Man—and Harry needed him now. So he steadied his nerves and reached out.
“Wake up, buddy. I’m here, you’re okay.” He gave a gentle shake.
Harry jolted awake immediately, dragging in ragged breaths.
“You okay, kiddo?” Tony asked softly as he sat on the edge of the bed.
Tears welled, and Harry shook his head. Tony opened his arms. Harry pressed into him without hesitation, clutching his chest as shaky breaths rattled through him.
“You’re safe,” he murmured, rubbing slow circles across Harry’s back. “I’ve got you.”
He didn’t know how long they sat there, but his back had started protesting sitting straight up without support as Harry’s breathing eventually evened out.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.
“N-not tonight,” Harry replied. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Harry,” Tony assured him. “Do you want to try to go back to sleep?”
Harry’s arms tightened around him and Tony could feel him trembling. He shook his head.
“Maybe in my room?” Tony asked, knowing they had a busy day tomorrow.
Harry took a deep breath and eventually nodded.
Tony pulled him close and carried him across the hallway, letting him crawl into bed when they arrived. This time, Harry didn’t hesitate—he scooted in quickly, settling against the pillows like he knew he belonged here. As soon as Tony laid back down, Harry was right there, clinging to his arm again.
“I didn’t want to bother you.” Harry whispered, his voice trembling.
“Shh, Harry. You’re not a bother,” Tony murmured, smoothing his messy hair with his free hand. “I’m here whenever you need me.”
Harry gave a small nod, and Tony felt some of the tremors ease. He stayed still until the boy’s breathing steadied, then carefully eased his hand back. Minutes later, he could feel Harry drift back to sleep—the grip on his arm loosening, the tension in his small frame melting.
Better, Tony thought as he finally let sleep pull him under again.
---
Friday dawned cold and rainy, and Harry had already disappeared from the bed.
“Hey, J. When did Harry take off?” Tony asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
“Harry returned to his room at 06:11 this morning. He has been awake since.” JARVIS replied. “It’s now 09:15.”
“Hmm, okay. Tell him to take a shower, would you? I’m gonna take one myself, and then we gotta hit the road. We’ll get a bagel or something on the way to his GP.” Tony instructed.
“Of course, sir.” The AI replied.
Tony yawned widely as he stripped and headed for his shower. A few button presses later, and soft, hot water poured from a hidden fixture, which Tony stepped into gratefully.
He showered quickly, scrubbing himself down with whatever JARVIS had ordered, filling the room with the scent of patchouli, lemon, and lavender, before he stepped out and spent a few minutes trimming his iconic goatee and styling his hair at the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist.
When he was finished, he retreated to his closet and selected a simple dark blue suit with a dark blue tie and light blue shirt. He dressed quickly, his eyes on the time. They had about an hour before Harry’s appointment, and he was cutting it a little closer than he preferred.
Dressed and refreshed, he left his room, knocking on Harry’s door when he reached it.
“You ready to go, kiddo?” Tony asked.
The door opened and Harry stood there, dressed in a pair of dark wash blue jeans and navy blue hoodie that had a cartoonish T-rex on the front. His face was blank and eyes were completely shuttered again. Tony clocked the way his hands stayed buried in the hoodies pocket—classic self-defense posture, if the parenting books were worth anything.
“Hey, we’re matching!” Tony said.
“Yeah.” Harry said, gaze slipping to the floor.
Tony didn’t let it deter him. “How do you feel about bagels?” he asked, already setting off for the stairs. “Figured we’d just grab something on the way to your doctor.”
“Yeah… that’s fine.” Harry said flatly.
Happy was waiting for them in the kitchen, wearing a black suit, white shirt, and black tie, sipping a cup of coffee from a Styrofoam cup.
“Morning, boss. Hey, kid,” Happy greeted, nodding his head toward them. “Ready to go?”
“Morning, Hap. Yeah, we’re ready. You got my text?” Tony asked.
“Yup. Found a bagel spot right around the corner from the GP’s office. Should make it there in about 20 minutes,” Happy replied.
---
In the garage, Happy led them to one of Tony’s favorite vehicles.
“Happy, what- where the hell did this come from?” Tony asked incredulously.
“It’s just a little something JARVIS helped me find. It’s ours until we decide to return it.” Happy said… happily.
Tony stared at the powder blue Rolls Royce Phantom, with pitch black windows and a privacy screen that divided the front and back seat.
“I love you, Hap,” Tony replied.
“I know, boss.”
---
There were a couple of people with cameras camped outside the gates, flashes popping as the Rolls slipped past. Harry ducked his head instinctively, shoulders hunching. All they’d get were pictures of Happy, and for that, Tony was grateful.
Harry hadn’t said but four words that morning, climbing into the car and looking ridiculously small in the seat. Tony idly wondered if he shouldn’t be in a car seat, but it was a question he knew he could ask the GP.
As it was, he trusted Happy to get them there in one piece and the traffic in London never moved very quickly, anyway.
The car ride to the bagel shop passed in easy silence, except for the occasional tap coming from Tony’s phone.
He was scrolling the news, catching up on the world he’d largely been ignoring since Harry arrived, when an article popped up, freezing his thumb mid-scroll.
Pepper Potts returns to New York – ALONE. Stark nowhere to be seen.
It has been nearly two weeks since Pepper Potts was spotted at JFK, her red-rimmed eyes and strained expression sparking whispers, before resuming her duties as Stark Industries CEO—a full week before the U.K. PR campaign was scheduled to conclude. Sources say Ms. Potts has returned to work as though nothing happened. Meanwhile, Tony Stark remains in the U.K.—far from the boardroom, and even farther from Pepper Potts. What’s really going on with one of the world’s most powerful couples? No answers yet, but one thing is clear: distance is making more than just the heart grow fonder.
Tony let his head crash back against the seat, an annoyed huff coming out as he did.
One fucking week she’d been gone, and already, the tabloids were picking up on it. Tony thought angrily. Like it’s my god damn fault that she doesn’t want kids. Only, of course it’s my fucking fault. One ultimatum after another—and then a kid. A fucking kid, Stark. What the hell were you thinking?
Harry shifted beside him, shoulders curling tighter into his hoodie.
Tony took a long breath in and released it as a deep sigh.
“Everything okay, boss?” Happy asked from up front as they rolled into a parking space.
“Peachy,” Tony replied shortly, looking at the front of the building. He took a moment to get himself under control, then looked at Harry, who had his hands shoved in the front of his hoodie, eyes glued to the floor.
“Any preference on bagel, kid?” He asked neutrally.
Harry gave a small shake of his head and Tony bit back another sigh.
He wanted to tell the kid again—he wasn’t a burden, not a bother, not now, not ever—but the words stuck in his throat.
Instead, he just ordered the bagels and hoped Harry could feel it anyway.
“Just grab us, uh, one blueberry, one cinnamon, and whatever you want, Hap. And shmear - lots of shmear,” Tony ordered, massaging the bridge of his nose. “And juice, too – whatever they’ve got.”
“You got it, boss. Be right back,” Happy said, slipping out of the car and heading inside.
It was silent while Happy was gone, Tony completely absorbed in his thoughts, occasionally shaking his head when his brain landed on Pepper and her walking out.
When Happy finally returned, he was carrying some heavenly scented bagels, and Tony could tell how fresh they were by smell alone. It completely derailed his self-loathing and self-pitying thoughts - at least for the moment.
“These are for you guys,” Happy said, handing over a paper bag filled with warm bagels, then another filled with cream cheese containers and a couple bottles of orange juice.
“You’re a rockstar, Hap. Thanks,” Tony said genuinely.
Tony tore the bag open and pulled the bagels out, splitting both down the middle and setting them back down on the bag.
“We’ll share, half and half. Do you like cream cheese?” Tony asked.
“It’s alright,” Harry replied quietly, still keeping his eyes down.
Tony popped one of the containers open and spread it thick across a cinnamon half before holding it out. “Here ya go, bud. Gnaw on that.”
Harry took it without looking, chewing slowly at first—then faster, as if remembering he didn’t have to ration every bite. Tony caught the crumb clinging to his lip and, just for a second, the boy looked like any other kid. The sight pulled a smile from him despite the heaviness in his chest.
“Good, huh?” Tony asked, keeping his tone light.
Harry nodded once, wordless, already halfway through his piece.
Tony tried again, quieter this time. “Y’know, you don’t have to keep your head down around me. Not for bagels, not for anything.”
Harry’s chewing slowed, but he didn’t answer. He just hunched further into his hoodie, holding the bagel like a shield.
Tony didn’t push, taking a bite of his half, sighing at the taste. “Damn, Happy, that’s a good bagel. A taste of home, for sure.”
Happy nodded up front. “I thought so, too. The guy behind the counter is definitely from Brooklyn.”
Tony finished his cinnamon half, then offered Harry the blueberry one. “Try this. Trust me—it’s even better.”
“Thanks,” Harry murmured, taking it and tearing into it just as fast.
“You’re welcome, kid,” Tony said, softer this time. He leaned back, watching Harry eat like it was the only thing that mattered. For once, Tony didn’t mind the silence.
“You guys good back there? I’m gonna start driving again,” Happy eventually asked.
“All good,” Tony affirmed.
---
Tony led Harry into the building, the pair pausing at the threshold. It was busy for a Friday morning, or so Tony thought, and with as tight against his side as Harry was – he agreed.
The waiting area was tidy, colorful posters dotting the walls, with five or six parents already waiting. Laughter and squeals drifted from the play areas.
“C’mon, kiddo,” Tony rested a hand on Harry’s neck and steered him to the receptionist’s desk
“Good morning, Mr.?” the woman behind the desk asked with a bright, cheery smile. Her name plate read Emily.
“Stark. Here with Harry Evans,” Tony mirrored her cheer with an easy grin.
“Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Emily replied, her eyes going wide. “And you, Harry.” She dipped her gaze down to the young boy, who immediately shrank behind Tony.
“Indeed,” Tony kept the smile steady. “Do you have some forms for me to fill out, or…”
Emily blinked, quickly recovering her composure.
“Yes, sir, right here,” picking a clipboard up and offering it to him.
His skin crawled just looking at the clipboard. Paperwork. Pens that a hundred other hands had touched. Bureaucracy. He swallowed it down and flashed his best smile instead. “Hate to be a pain, but could you email those to me? I’ll have them back to you in a flash.”
“Uh, s-sure,” Emily said, clearly thrown.
“Thank you, we’ll just go take a seat, then.”
“R-right. Someone should be along to collect you shortly,” Emily agreed.
Tony steered Harry to a free bank of chairs as his phone buzzed in his pocket.
A glance showed an email from the office.
“Take care of those, would you, J?” He tapped his watch. “Fill in whatever’s missing with the social worker’s info.”
“Right away, sir.” JARVIS replied smoothly.
The room felt suffocating, and Harry wasn’t faring any better. He’d pulled the hood over his head and his arms were buried in the front pocket.
Tony leaned forward and grabbed a tech magazine off the table. A few pages in, he snorted.
“According to this, ‘The Blackberry is the future of mobile phones.’ Cutting-edge reading material, huh, kid? Maybe we ought to launch a StarkPhone. Bet we could cook up something pretty sweet back at the lab,” Tony commented, looking over at Harry, who gave a small shrug.
Before Tony could press further, a short, kind-faced woman stepped through a door near reception.
“Harry? Mr. Stark?” she called, glancing at her clipboard.
“Let’s go, bud.” Tony said, waiting for Harry to reluctantly slide off the chair.
He grabbed Tony’s sleeve as they walked to the back rooms, following the woman’s quick steps.
“Good morning, I’m Megan,” she said as they walked through the hallway. “We’ll be in room 7 today,” she said, gesturing into a bright room with a colorful wavy 7 hanging on the door.
Tony led Harry in, followed by Megan, who shut the door behind them.
“First stops the scale,” Megan said.
Harry dutifully stepped on, eyes fixed on the number displayed.
“19.2 kilos,” Megan mumbled. “Alright, and now your height. Big and tall against the wall for me?”
He obeyed, face expressionless.
“Aaaand, 112.1 centimetres. Thank you, sweetheart,” she said kindly. “Mr. Stark, if you can help Harry jump up on that table for me, that would be a huge help,” Megan asked, grabbing a cart from the corner of the room while Tony hooked his hands under Harry’s arms and settled him on the table.
Tony tried to back away, but Harry’s face—suddenly wide-eyed and fearful—stopped him cold.
“Perfect. Harry, jacket off please,” Megan said. “Mr. Stark, you can have a seat now.”
“If it’s all the same, I’ll hang by,” Tony said, nodding toward Harry.
Megan looked at the boy, and her face softened. “Of course. Jacket first, love.” she repeated.
Harry yanked the hoodie over his head roughly, leaving his hair sticking up in a few places, and sat rigidly.
“Thermometer under your tongue. Hold that there for me?” Megan asked, waiting for Harry to take the thin piece of plastic. When it beeped, she checked the reading. “37° on the dot. Good lad.”
“Last bit from me is a blood pressure reading. This cuff goes ‘round your arm,” she explained, opening the cuff.
Harry flinched as she reached for him.
“JARVIS, give her his BP and heart rate.” Tony said.
“Certainly, sir. 120/80, heart rate 110.” JARVIS announced from Harry’s watch.
“A bit high, but nothing to worry about,” Megan said smoothly, jotting the numbers down. “That’s me done. Dr. Brown will be in momentarily.”
She turned to leave then stopped.
“Oops, one more thing,” she said with a chuckle, heading to a cupboard. “The doctor will want to do a check of his ears, throat, lungs, the works. Can you help him into a gown? Shirt off, pants optional. No need to tie the back.”
“Y-yeah,” Tony said, taking the gown.
“I’ll let Dr. Brown know you’re ready,” Megan said, leaving the room.
Tony could feel the anxiety rolling off Harry in waves and when he looked at him, he could see his chest rising and falling too quickly.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with, kiddo. You want me to look away, or step out?” Tony asked.
“No… no pants,” Harry whispered.
“Fine by me. How ‘bout the shirt?”
It took him a moment, but eventually he nodded and yanked the shirt off with the same roughness he had his jacket, discarding it on the table next to him.
Tony had just stepped forward to help Harry with the gown when the door swung open and the doctor walked in.
She looked to be in her mid-thirties—tall, brown hair pulled neatly into a ponytail, steady dark eyes framed by a face that radiated patience. No makeup, no nonsense. Exactly what Tony had hoped for when he’d chosen her: one of London’s top pediatric GPs, with a specialty in child and adolescent mental health.
“Mr. Stark, it’s a genuine honor to meet you—and Harry,” she said warmly, closing the door behind her. “How are we feeling today?”
“Great, great. Just here to make sure Harry’s in good shape and caught up on vaccinations,” Tony replied easily.
She gave him a quick smile, then shifted her attention to Harry. “Hi, Harry. I’m Dr. Brown.”
“Hi,” Harry murmured, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay.”
“How’s school? Any trouble focusing?”
“No.”
“Appetite okay? Eating all right?”
“Yes.”
“Sleeping okay?”
“No.”
Her brows lifted slightly at the last answer. Tony cleared his throat, stepping in. “Uh—since he’s been with me, there’ve been a couple rough nights. Night terror one night, nightmare last night.”
Dr. Brown gave a slow, understanding nod, then tried again. “Any pain, Harry?”
“No.”
She smiled gently and moved a little closer, reaching out—only for Harry to flinch back sharply.
Tony moved forward, crouching at his side. The boy’s wide, panicked eyes snapped to his, silently begging for an anchor.
“She’s just gonna check the basics, okay, kiddo? Nothing scary. I’ll be right here the whole time.”
Harry’s breathing hitched, his shoulders locked tight.
Tony leaned in a little closer, dropping his voice as if sharing a secret. “Tell you what—help me out. Count how many times she makes you say ‘ahh.’ I bet it’s at least three. If I lose, you score extra dessert tonight.”
That earned him the faintest flicker—Harry’s mouth didn’t move, but his eyes shifted just enough to let Tony know he’d heard. He gave a tiny nod.
Dr. Brown, who had paused to give them space, waited for Tony’s confirming nod before she tried again. This time, Harry sat frozen but didn’t jerk away.
“I’ll start with your ears, Harry.” She checked them quickly, then, “Can you open your mouth and say ‘ahh’?”
Harry swallowed and complied. He glanced at Tony.
“That’s one,” Tony stage-whispered.
“You’re doing great,” She encouraged softly. “I’m going to listen to your lungs now.”
She warmed the stethoscope in her hand before placing it on his chest. “Deep breath in… and out.”
Harry obeyed, actions stiff but steady.
“Your lungs sound great. Bet you’d make a fine swimmer,” she commented.
Harry said nothing.
“Reflexes now.” She tapped each knee, watching his legs kick. “Perfect.”
“See? Perfect aim. You’d make a great goalie,” Tony said. “You’re doing great, Harry. She’s almost done.”
“Can you sit up nice and tall for me, Harry?” Dr. Brown asked.
Harry sat ramrod straight while she palpated his stomach, never flinching.
“Alright, I think we’re done for today. Thank you for being so brave, Harry.”
He jerked his head in a nod and went back to staring at the floor.
“What’s the prognosis, doc?” Tony asked, trying to sound upbeat.
“Nothing alarming. He’d benefit from nutritional support, maybe iron supplements. His height and weight are closer to a five- or six-year-old’s, but with a stable diet, I expect him to catch back up,” Dr Brown explained. “I’d like to administer a few vaccines he’s missed and perhaps get a finger prick to check his iron levels, but aside from that, he’s doing quite well.”
Tony nodded. “Sounds good, doc. Can he get dressed?”
“Shirt’s fine, yes,” Dr. Brown said, giving Harry a kind, reassuring smile. “I’ll have Megan come along with those vaccines so we can get you guys on your way.”
“Thank you, doc. Can I email you with questions?” Tony asked.
“Of course, Mr. Stark. Anything you need,” the woman nodded, turning back to Harry. “It was lovely to meet you, dear. I hope to see you again – but not too soon! Stay healthy.”
“You, too.” Harry said monotonously.
---
A soft knock preceded Megan’s return. She wheeled in a tray lined with capped syringes, little vials, and colorful band-aids.
Harry went rigid. His fingers clawed into the edge of the exam table, knuckles whitening.
“Alright, Harry,” Megan said gently. “Just a few vaccinations you’ve missed. Nothing we can’t handle.”
Tony stepped in immediately, pulling the spare stool closer.
“Hey, don’t look at the needles,” he said, crouching so he was eye-level. “Look at me instead. These things? They’re just glorified mosquito bites. And way cleaner. At least these don’t itch for days.”
Harry’s wide eyes flicked to him, then back to the tray.
“C’mon, kiddo, you survived my cooking experiments this week. Trust me, this’ll be a breeze compared to mystery meatloaf 2.0,” Tony teased lightly.
That earned him the tiniest twitch of Harry’s lip, but the boy still trembled.
“Mr. Stark,” Megan said carefully, “would you mind holding his hand? Just to help him stay steady.”
“On it,” Tony said, offering his palm. Harry grabbed it instantly, fingers cold and clammy.
“Okay, Harry. First one in the arm,” Megan explained. “Quick pinch, then done.”
Tony kept his eyes locked on Harry’s.
“Let’s see how many Shrek characters we can name before she finishes.”
Harry licked his lips nervously. “...Shrek.”
“Excellent choice,” Tony said, with a smile. “I left the door open on that one.”
The needle slipped in; Harry winced but stayed put.
“Donkey – his annoying sidekick. Kinda like Rhodey, really.”
Another quick jab. Harry’s grip tightened, but he didn’t pull away.
“Fiona – the girl who gave up her beauty for true love.”
The last shot went in, and Megan pressed a dinosaur band-aid over the spot. “All done.”
Harry blinked, chest rising and falling in shaky relief.
“See? Nailed it,” Tony said, releasing his hand just long enough to ruffle his hair. “And hey, bonus prize—you survived a physical and needles today. That’s like a double boss fight.”
Megan chuckled softly, cleaning up her tray. “Bravest lad I’ve seen all week.”
She tidied away the last syringe and swapped the tray for a smaller kit. A lancet, gauze, and a slim glass vial gleamed under the light.
Harry’s shoulders tensed again. “What’s that?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“Just a finger prick,” Megan said kindly. “One quick pinch, then a drop of blood so we can check your iron levels. Nothing more.”
Harry shook his head instantly, shrinking back against Tony’s arm.
Tony leaned closer, voice low and conspiratorial.
“Hey, bud, it’s not so bad. Think of it like… a paper cut with a purpose. And unlike the paper cut, you get a cool band-aid afterward. Maybe even a rocket ship this time.”
Harry still looked dubious, lip trembling.
“You want me to go first?” Tony asked, holding up his own hand. “We’ll make it a competition. First one to flinch loses bragging rights for the whole week.”
Harry blinked at him, torn between fear and curiosity. “Would you really?”
“Course I would. I’ve survived worse—pepper spray, faulty arc reactors, Rhodey’s cooking in college. This is nothing.”
That drew the tiniest huff of breath from Harry—close enough to a laugh. Slowly, he extended his hand.
“Attaboy,” Tony said, squeezing his fingers reassuringly.
Megan worked quickly, swabbing his fingertip. “On three, Harry. One…” click.
Harry jumped, but only slightly. A bright red drop welled up.
“All done,” Megan said brightly, catching the blood with the vial. “Not even three seconds.”
Tony lifted Harry’s hand and inspected it dramatically. “Huh. You’re tougher than me. I swear, I’d have fainted.”
Harry rolled his eyes but his mouth twitched, the tension draining from his shoulders.
“There we go,” Megan said, pressing a rocket-ship band-aid over the tiny spot. “You did wonderfully.”
Tony leaned in, voice softer now, just for Harry. “See? I told you. You’re not a bother, kiddo. Not ever. And now? You’ve officially survived the full Stark medical experience—physical, needles, and finger pricks. That’s superhero status.”
Harry ducked his head, but Tony didn’t miss the faintest glimmer of pride flickering through his expression.
Notes:
Love it, hate it, let me know!
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Notes:
Bout half the size of the last one, but needed to round it out so we could go into the next steps. Can't have the heavy without some fluff!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
By the time they left the GP’s office, the rain had settled into a misty drizzle. Harry stayed close, fingers wrapped around Tony’s sleeve, the rocket-ship band-aid peeking from his cuff like a small trophy. Neither spoke much on the drive; the morning’s ordeal had left its mark, and the silence hung heavy. But as Happy turned the Rolls down a tree-lined street and the sleek gates of South Fulham Prep came into view, Tony forced a breath and straightened his tie. They’d survived doctors and needles—now came teachers and questions. Another battlefield entirely.
Happy slowed to a stop at the wrought-iron gates as a broad-shouldered guard approached, thumbs hooked into his belt.
“You got business here, mate?” the man asked, stern as stone.
Tony lowered the divider, letting Happy jerk a thumb toward the backseat.
“Name’s Tony Stark. Here with Harry Evans—got a two-thirty appointment,” Tony said easily.
The guard blinked, then relaxed. “Blimey, they weren't kidding… right then. Head straight down the path; you’ll hit the car park in a minute.”
“Appreciate it,” Happy replied, easing the Rolls forward as the gates swung wide.
The drive in was picture-perfect: lawns clipped within an inch of their lives, flowerbeds bursting with early spring color, kids in rainboots splashing through puddles while laughter echoed across the grounds.
Harry pressed close against Tony’s side, tension practically radiating off him.
“Relax, kiddo,” Tony murmured, ruffling his hair. “It’s a nice place. Fewer explosions than I’m used to, but you can’t have everything.”
Harry didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either. Tony chalked that up as a win.
Happy rolled into the parking area and set the car gently in place. “We’re here, boss.”
“Thanks, Hap. This might take a bit— an hour or two. You good?”
“I’m golden. Might grab a nap,” Happy said easily.
“Alright. I’ll let you know when we’re done.” Tony climbed out and clapped the door shut behind him, Harry trailing close.
The air carried that unmistakable after-rain scent—petrichor, cut grass, and the sweetness of blooming flowers. Tony breathed it in.
“Smells good, looks good… must be good, right, kid?”
“Maybe,” Harry muttered with a shrug.
“C’mon. Let’s get checked in.” Tony rested a steadying hand at Harry’s neck, steering him toward the double doors of a stone building that looked every bit the part of a prep school’s front office.
Inside, polished wood gleamed and the quiet clack of keys echoed from the reception desk. The nameplate read Chloe. She glanced up as they approached, froze mid-keystroke, and flushed pink.
“M-Mr. Stark,” she stammered.
Tony grinned. “Yup, that’s me—in the flesh. But he’s the important one today.” He tilted a thumb toward Harry.
“Of course,” Chloe said quickly. “Please have a seat—I’ll fetch the headmaster.”
Tony led Harry to a line of plush chairs along the wall. Harry still clung to his sleeve.
It was only a minute before Chloe returned with a balding man in his forties, dressed in an immaculate suit.
“Mr. Stark,” he greeted warmly, extending his hand. “Luke Davies. Pleasure to meet you.”
Tony shook firmly, then gestured beside him. “This is Harry Evans. Hoping to get him enrolled for the rest of the term—maybe longer.”
Luke crouched slightly, offering Harry his hand. Harry shrank back behind Tony, and Luke withdrew with a patient smile.
“Well then, welcome to South Fulham Prep. We pride ourselves on sparking curiosity and giving pupils space to thrive. All our staff are dedicated to providing the best possible start in education. Remind me—what year were you hoping for?”
“Year 2,” Tony said. “I’m less concerned about test scores and pomp, more about making sure Harry’s in a safe, comfortable environment. Meaning no tabloid hacks sneaking cameras onto the playground.”
Luke’s smile widened. “I assure you, Mr. Stark—we’ve hosted many high-profile families. Security here is airtight, monitored around the clock. Student safety is our first priority.”
“Good to hear,” Tony said.
“Why don’t I show you around? You’ll get a feel for the school, and Harry can meet a few of the teachers.”
Tony gestured forward with one hand, his other resting protectively on Harry’s shoulder. “Lead the way.”
---
Luke led them down a pristine hallway lined with glass cases showing hundreds of pictures of students participating in a myriad of activities, occasionally stopping to point out a notable achievement or award.
“Our coding class, which is taught from as young as age 4 all the way through age 13, is one of our most sought-after programs here at South Fulham. We aim to teach children the fundamentals of coding through activities that not only keep them engaged, but that they also enjoy. By the time our year 8 students leave, they have a firm grasp on structured programming and logic and are adept at using programming language such as Python and JavaScript, and markup languages like HTML, and CSS,” Luke explained, coming to a stop outside a door. He peeked through a window and smiled. “We’ve currently got a group of second years in the lab, or I’d show you around. However, I should be able to grab Mrs. Edwards, if you’ll wait here a moment.”
Tony nodded, slightly impressed with their curriculum despite himself.
“They certainly talk the talk, eh?” Tony asked. “I’ve been teaching you Python and C++, and you’ve been doing pretty well with that. It wouldn’t be so bad to have that as a class here, right?”
“I guess not,” Harry replied quietly.
Their conversation was interrupted by the headmaster and a woman returning.
“Mr. Stark, Mr. Evans, this is Holly Edwards, our computer science teacher,” Luke introduced.
Tony shook her hand lightly and watched as she reached a hand out for Harry, who shrunk back again.
“So, what exactly do you teach second year? I’ve spent the past couple weeks teaching Harry the basics of Python and C++, but I’m sure he would benefit from your program,” Tony asked, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder as Mrs. Edwards gave him a soft smile.
“Loops and conditionals, how to build interactive stories, animations, simple games – how to find and fix mistakes in the code they write,” Mrs. Edwards replied gently. “We also have class collaborations on small projects.”
Tony nodded, impressed again.
“I should get back in there, Luke. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark, Mr. Evans. I hope you to see you in class,” Mrs. Edwards said, giving a little wave to Harry before returning to the room.
“Do you have a favorite subject, Mr. Evans?” Luke asked, crouching down and trying to make eye contact with Harry, who was gazing at the floor.
Harry lifted a shoulder in a shrug, causing Tony to huff out a laugh.
“You mean aside from coding? He likes to read,” Tony answered for him.
Luke stood back up, bobbing his head. “To the library, then.”
---
Tony was surprised – again – by the sheer size of their library.
An old man came out from behind the counter the moment they entered, smelling subtly of peppermint, with a short- clean white beard, and light blue cardigan.
“Our librarian - Benjamin Wright. Ben, this is Tony Stark and Harry Evans,” Luke introduced.
Tony shook his hand, waiting for Harry to inevitably hide behind him again when Ben tried to shake his hand, as well, but was happy to see the man simply incline his head instead. No pressure, no coaxing—just quiet respect.
It struck Tony that this might be the first adult, outside their little circle, who’d given Harry space instead of trying to pull him forward. And the way Harry’s shoulders eased, just a fraction, told him the kid noticed too.
“Pleasure to meet you both,” Mr. Wright greeted. “Feel free to have a look around – the library will be empty for another hour or so.”
Tony looked down and saw Harry straining to look around while also trying to look disinterested. He shook his head fondly and put a hand in the middle of Harry’s back.
“Go on, kid. Go look around. I’m gonna stay here and have a talk with Mr. Davies,” Tony encouraged.
Harry didn’t need to be told twice, surprisingly, and quickly disappeared into the shelves.
Tony couldn’t help but smile.
“Bit of a shy one, huh?” Luke asked when Harry was safely out of hearing range.
“Yeah, that’s one way to put it,” Tony replied carefully. “Listen, give it to me straight. I’ve seen the campus, met some of your staff – I’ll admit I’m impressed. Money’s not the issue. I’ve wasted more than the tuition here on bad champagne. What I care about is: if he needs quiet time, can you give it? If he falls behind, can you support him?”
Luke took a moment before responding. “I believe with the way our classrooms are structured, both of those conditions would be easy to meet. We have a number of highly intelligent, but also… sensitive, students that we accommodate here. We understand that the environment in a class can sometimes be overwhelming, more so for some students than others, and we’ve developed strategies to handle situations like that when they arise.”
That had been one of Tony’s biggest fears. That Harry would get overwhelmed and just completely shut down or… react badly with his magic. He knew he couldn’t tell them about his magic, so he just had to put his trust in these people to know how to navigate stressful situations.
“If Harry’s okay with coming here, what are the odds he gets in?” Tony asked.
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be an issue at all, Mr. Stark. We’ve got plenty of room in our year two classes and we’d be delighted to have him as a student,” Luke replied.
Tony caught movement behind Luke and looked over his shoulder, watching Harry walk slowly down an aisle, running his hand along the spines as he went.
Luke, realizing Tony was looking over his shoulder, turned to watch as well.
Harry paused, hand hovering on a thick dark-red spine – clearly hesitating to pull it free before doing so.
Mr. Wright moved forward, apparently having been watching as well.
“That’s an old favorite of mine. Stories of the Norse gods and mythology. Do you like tales about heroics?” He asked.
Harry’s hand went white around the book, but he gave a small nod without looking over.
Tony grinned. “Careful, Ben. He’ll have that finished by the time we leave and have a million questions for you.”
Harry’s ears went pink, but his grip loosened on the book.
“We do encourage curiosity here,” Luke said.
“That’s a good policy,” Tony replied. He made the short walk to where Harry was standing with the book, looking at the first few pages. “What do you think, bud? Not the worst place to spend a few hours a day, right?”
Harry ducked his head, closing the book and hugging it to his chest. “It’s… not so bad.”
Tony’s chest loosened, something warm spreading through him. He gently placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Coming from you, kid, that’s practically a standing ovation.”
Luke chuckled behind him. “If you're satisfied with the tour, I can show you the way back and we can go over the next steps?”
Tony turned and gave the man a nod. “C’mon, Harry.”
Harry hesitated, looking down at the book, before reluctantly reaching to return it to its place on the shelf.
“Keep it, lad,” Mr. Wright said, going into a crouch. He had something in his hands, handing it out for Harry to take. “A bookmark, for when you come back.”
Harry paused, then reached out and gingerly took it. “Thank you,” he whispered.
The old man nodded and moved back to the desk. Tony could have hugged him.
“Right. This way, then,” Luke said, guiding them out.
It was quiet on the way back to reception, and Tony couldn’t help but glance down and catch the way Harry had the book hugged to his chest with one arm, the other turning the bookmark repeatedly in his hands.
“Chloe?” Luke announced as they approached. “Get Mr. Stark set up with a welcoming kit. Documents, uniform order forms, you know the drill.”
“Yes, sir,” Chloe said, sliding out of her chair and going to a file cabinet. She rummaged around while Luke grabbed Tony’s attention.
“Take the weekend to go over the forms and get everything in order. If you get it back to us by Monday, we should be able to get Mr. Evans in by the following Monday,” Luke said.
“Here you are, Mr. Davies,” Chloe said, handing a thick folder to the headmaster, who passed it to Tony.
Tony held his breath and took the folder, quickly transferring it to his armpit and clamping down.
“Sounds good. Thanks for the tour,” Tony said, shaking the man’s hand a final time. “Ready, bud?”
Harry nodded and Tony settled a hand on his neck, steering him back toward the car.
“Look at you,” he said lightly, once they got back outside. “Doctor’s office, school tour – you’re practically unstoppable, kid.”
Harry didn’t answer, but for the first time all day, he walked a little taller.
---
Happy jumped when Tony opened the door, letting Harry slide in before climbing in after him.
He wiped his hand over his face and checked his phone.
“Tour ended pretty quick and then we were out of there,” Tony explained.
“No worries, boss. We all set?” Happy replied, cracking his neck and starting the car.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Tony said. “Kid already has a fan club. Librarian, teachers, the works.”
Happy grinned in the mirror as he backed up. “Told you they’d love him.”
Harry ducked his head, his cheeks going pink. The book was still tucked against his chest.
As the Rolls glided back down the drive, Tony looked out at the neat rows of flowers, the lawns glistening from the drizzle. The place still felt a little too polished, too perfect, but he couldn’t deny one thing: Harry hadn’t hated it, and that was all that mattered.
“So,” Tony said casually, turning to look at Harry. “Verdict? Do I need to find some tutors or can we roll with this place?”
Harry hesitated, then glanced up at him. “It’s… okay,” he whispered.
Tony smiled. “High praise. That settles that.”
Harry had drifted against Tony’s side before they were even out of Fulham. Book still clutched in his hands, his head lolled gently with the car’s motion. For once, Tony let himself relax, soaking in the quiet. Maybe they’d actually pulled it off—doctor, school, the whole day without a meltdown.
Then Harry stirred. His eyes stayed shut, but his voice was a thin whisper, ragged at the edges.
“I—I’m sorry, Tony. About that article, and Pepper, and… everything. You shouldn’t have to do all this for me.”
Tony froze. The words hit like a gut punch, because they weren’t Harry’s—they were his own, twisted and replayed. The same ugly thoughts that had burned through his head that morning in the car.
“Hey. No. Don’t you do that,” Tony said quickly, his hand tightening around the boy’s shoulder. “That—” He faltered, forcing down the sudden tightness in his throat. “That wasn’t about you. That was me being an idiot, and you—” He exhaled, steadying himself. “You’re not a mistake, Harry. Not now, not ever. You hear me?”
Harry didn’t answer, but he shifted closer, tucking himself against Tony’s chest. His grip on the book eased, just a little.
Tony leaned his head back, eyes stinging more than he’d like to admit. If it took a hundred reassurances to scrub that thought out of Harry’s mind, he’d say them. A thousand, if he had to.
The car quieted after that, with Happy smoothly navigating them through the afternoon traffic, a fresh set of rain tapping rhythmically against the windows.
Harry was drifting in and out of sleep, the book sliding from his grip, the little bookmark poking from the top.
Tony relaxed, exhaling slowly. Doctors, schools, paperwork, tabloid vultures—it all weighed on him. But with Harry resting peacefully beside him, Tony realized he could do this.
Harry was worth it.
---
By the time Happy eased the car back into the privacy of the garage, Harry was completely out, cheek pressed against Tony’s jacket, breath coming out in a slow, steady huff.
“Out like a light,” Happy said softly, his face framed in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah,” Tony murmured, carefully taking the book off Harry’s lap and setting it on the seat. “Long day. He earned the nap.”
Happy got out of the car and moved to Tony’s door, popping it open.
Tony shifted, scooping his arm under Harry and lifting him with ease. Harry stirred but didn’t wake, only curling closer against his chest.
“Want me to grab his things?” Happy asked as he stepped out.
“If you would,” Tony asked, moving to the elevator while Happy grabbed the book and the enrollment packet from the backseat before locking the Rolls. The elevator opened with a soft ding and they stepped on.
After the short ride up, they entered the penthouse, the familiar hum of electronics wrapping around them. Tony carried Harry upstairs, being careful not to jostle him, and nudged open the bedroom door with his foot. He laid the boy down gently, tugged a blanket over him, and let his hand linger on the messy dark hair.
“Not a mistake,” he whispered again, too low for anyone but himself to hear.
Harry shifted in his sleep, a crease in his forehead easing as if he’d caught the words anyway.
Tony straightened, sucking in a long breath before easing the door shut behind him.
He headed back downstairs, intent on finding Happy. Tonight called for pizza. Extra cheese. Maybe even pineapple, just to watch Happy squirm.
Happy was sprawled on the couch, shoes kicked off, remote in hand. He muted the TV as Tony came in.
“What’s the verdict?” Happy asked.
“He’s out cold,” Tony said, rolling his shoulders. “Didn’t even stir. Kid could probably sleep through an alien invasion.”
Happy grinned. “Guess it runs in the family.”
Tony chuckled, snagging the pizza menu off the counter. “Extra cheese, double pepperoni. And throw some pineapple on there, just to watch you suffer.”
Happy groaned, loud and theatrical. “Pineapple? That’s sacrilege, boss.”
“Exactly,” Tony smirked, dropping onto the couch beside him.
Notes:
I think if I've done the math right and hit my expected chapter lengths, this will be between 375k-450k words when it's finished. We're just getting started :)
Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Notes:
I think I remember someone asking if we would ever get Harry's POV - well, here ya go. I will be switching between the two as I see fit :) Hope you enjoy!
(Genuinely having so much fun writing this. I'm sad thinking about the fact that it will inevitably slow down again ;.;)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Saturday morning dawned gray and still, clouds hanging low over London like a heavy blanket. Tony found himself awake before JARVIS had a chance to rouse him, padding barefoot into the kitchen while the penthouse was hushed. He scuffed his feet across the floor and flicked on the coffee maker — only to pause when he spotted a small figure curled on the sofa.
Harry was already up, blanket draped over his narrow shoulders, nose buried in the Norse mythology book they’d brought home yesterday.
“Morning, kid,” Tony said quietly, leaning on the counter.
Harry blinked up, eyes owlish from lack of sleep, but managed a soft, “Morning.” He looked smaller than ever in the oversized blanket, but the book wasn’t clutched like a shield anymore. He was just… reading.
Tony poured coffee as soon as it was ready and dropped onto the couch beside him, stretching his legs with a sigh. “Y’know, normal kids watch cartoons on Saturday mornings. You’re over here brushing up on Thor and Loki.”
That earned him the faintest twitch of a smile. Harry closed the book halfway, fidgeting with the bookmark Mr. Wright had given him. “I like stories. They don’t yell at you.”
Tony’s chest gave a tight pull. He kept his tone light. “Fair point. Though, for the record, TV only yells if you crank the volume.” He nudged Harry gently with his elbow. “Tell you what — once we get this paperwork squared away, you and me’ll pick out some new books for that fortress you’re building upstairs. Whole shelf - anything you want.”
Harry looked at him for a long moment with wide green eyes, then nodded. “Okay.”
Tony sipped his coffee. “How’s the arm?”
“A bit sore,” Harry admitted, a little surprised to have been asked.
“Yeah, three shots in one go will do that,” Tony said. “Still better than catching something medieval.”
That earned a tiny quirk of Harry’s mouth.
Tony let the moment sit, then slid into the topic he’d been circling. “So, here’s the deal. School starts at eight-thirty, ends about two-forty. Means you’ll have to be up around seven, give yourself time for breakfast before Happy drives you over.” He glanced sideways. “Now, I could play dictator and pick your bedtime, or… you can set it yourself. What sounds fair if you’ve gotta be up at seven?”
Harry hesitated, then said, “ Maybe nine?”
“Sold. Nine o’clock. Fridays and Saturdays, though? Your call. Stay up ‘til dawn partying, just keep the noise down.”
Harry gave a soft snort, tension slipping out of his shoulders — right before a wide yawn caught him off guard.
Tony arched a brow. “What time did you even wake up?”
“Two or three, I think,” Harry said, looking sheepish.
“Good book, huh?” Tony nodded at the one in his lap.
“Yeah. Thor and Loki are crazy. Thor’s the God of Thunder, Loki’s the God of Mischief. There are so many stories, I just started reading and…”
“Couldn’t stop?” Tony grinned. “Been there. Usually it’s in the lab, though.”
A loud yawn interrupted them, this time from the hallway. Happy shuffled out, bathrobe flapping open to reveal a white T-shirt and silk boxers with pink hearts. His eyes were half-closed as he scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“Morning, Hap,” Tony said loudly.
Happy’s eyes flew open as he clutched his robe shut.
Harry giggled and ducked his face behind the blanket.
“Jesus, Tony, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Happy sputtered. “What are you two doing up this early?”
Tony leaned back, smug grin firmly in place. “Saturday morning reading with the kid, duh.”
Happy shook his head as he headed into the kitchen, pausing when he saw the pizza box on the counter. “Pineapple,” he said scathingly.
Tony ruffled Harry’s hair as he stood up.
“Alright, boys,” he announced, arms stretched above his head and feeling like he’d just conquered the world. “Today’s itinerary: breakfast, then either a movie or lab tinkering – Harry’s choice. I’m feeling generous.”
Harry blinked up from his blanket. “Lab?” he asked tentatively.
Tony snapped his fingers and pointed. “Excellent choice, kid. Nothing says Saturday like solder fumes and the possibility of setting off the fire alarms. But first…” He shot a look at Happy. “Waffles? With extra syrup?”
Happy groaned but headed for the fridge, anyway, muttering about promotions to Stark Industries’ short-order cook.
Harry extracted himself from the blanket and clutched the book tightly. He moved in front of Tony with a little bounce in his step. The man tucked the image away, deciding not to comment. Some victories were better kept quiet.
---
(Harry’s POV)
Harry trailed after Tony, arms clutched around himself after the breakfast they’d just had. It was still difficult for him to tell when the two men were joking or being serious about something, and he often felt himself wanting to pull his shields up as a response..
Tony always looked upset when he did, though, and he’d been trying to stop slinking back into the safety of his own mind. The closer they came to the lab, though, the more tempted he was to shove his emotions away, to make himself feel nothing. He trusted Tony – implicitly – but it only made following him into a small, private room all the more scary. He didn’t know what he would do if Tony ever broke that trust.
He watched as Tony leaned forward and scanned his eye, the door opening automatically, revealing the lab in all its splendor.
“You know the drill, J - screens up, last project on the holo. How are the simulations of MK VII going?” Tony asked JARVIS.
“MK VII continues to be a complex problem to solve, sir. I believe you are going to have to create some kind of device that allows the armor to track your real-time telemetry if you wish to have it assemble around you, or we run the risk of something getting pinched or crushed in the disassembly/ reassembly process,” the AI replied.
Harry felt the familiar thrill of wonder run through him as Tony talked to his computer. It genuinely amazed him at how complex JARVIS was – at how he seemed to almost be another human.
“I had a feeling you were going to say that. A problem for another day, then,” Tony sighed, turning to Harry. “Alright, today’s agenda: absolutely no explosions. That’s a promise I can keep. Probably. Maybe.”
Harry nodded with a small smile, moving over to Tony and perching on a chair next to him, hands folded neatly in his lap, still afraid of getting told off for touching something.
“Hey,” Tony nudged his shoulder gently. “This isn’t school, alright? Just us in here. We’re here to have fun. If you screw something up, it’s on me for not explaining better. Capiche?”
Harry blinked at him, wanting to believe him. He nodded.
Tony turned and began tapping on a keyboard, the screen filling with neat rows of letters and symbols. “Remember those loops we were talking about a few days ago? The ‘if this happens, then do that’ kind of thing?”
Harry nodded again.
“Good. Watch,” Tony typed a few more quick lines, Harry watching with rapt attention, before he slapped a key. On the bench in front of them, a tiny light flickered on, then off, then on again in a steady rhythm. “Boom. Code says blink, it blinks. Simple.”
Harry leaned forward, his eyes widening. “You just told it to do that?”
“Yup,” Tony grinned. “Now it’s your turn. Don’t worry – I’ll walk you through it.”
The keyboard slid toward him and he hovered his fingers above the cold keys. He glanced up, hesitating, waiting for the catch. But Tony just watched him, expectant, patient in a way few adults ever were.
Harry took a deep breath and typed the first word Tony said aloud. It felt like stepping into a book — but for the first time, he wasn’t just reading about heroes. He was making something himself.
Harry pecked out each letter like the keyboard might burn him, following Tony’s directions until the code was complete. The cursor blinked expectantly, and when he hit enter… nothing happened. The little light stayed stubbornly dark.
His stomach dropped. “I—I did it wrong.”
Tony leaned over, squinting at the screen. “Wrong? Nah. You’ve just unlocked the coder’s rite of passage: typos. Congrats, you’re officially a programmer.”
Harry’s head jerked up, searching his face. But Tony’s grin was easy, not mocking.
“See here?” Tony tapped the word where Harry had typed prnt instead of print. “Missing an ‘i’. Code’s picky like that—one wrong letter and it throws a tantrum.”
Harry’s cheeks flushed hot, but Tony nudged the keyboard toward him. “Go on. Fix it. Half the fun is breaking it and figuring out how to un-break it.”
Harry corrected the line with shaky fingers and hit enter again. This time, the light blinked on… off… on… steady as a heartbeat.
A laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it, small but real.
“There it is,” Tony said, leaning back like a man satisfied with a job well done. “Kid’s first bug fix. Wear it like a badge of honor.”
Harry ducked his head, smiling despite himself. For once, getting something wrong hadn’t ended with punishment. Just… trying again.
As Tony began typing on his own screen, Harry rubbed at his eyes. They felt gritty, heavy from the too-early morning. The book had kept him awake, and now the lab’s hum and warmth made it harder to keep his focus.
Tony glanced sideways at him, one brow quirking. “Kiddo, you look like someone hit you with a sleeping dart.”
Harry tried to shake his head, but the motion only made him yawn. “M’fine,” he mumbled.
“Uh-huh. That’s convincing.” Tony tapped a finger against the bench, then stood. “Tell you what. No more code today. Come on — we’ll run an extremely high-level simulation in the living room.”
Harry blinked at him. “A… simulation?”
Tony grinned. “Some people might call it a movie.”
Harry’s lips twitched, and he found himself nodding before he could talk himself out of it. A movie was… safe. Safe, and quiet.
Tony rested his hand on the back of his neck, steering him toward the door. “Pick whatever you want. Cartoons, action, documentaries about penguins taking over Antarctica — I’m good with anything.”
For the first time that morning, Harry didn’t feel the need to retreat into himself. He just let Tony guide him along, allowing himself to believe that the man really didn’t mind - that he wasn’t a bother.
Back at the Dursleys’, needing anything had always been dangerous. Here, though… Tony acted like having Harry around wasn’t a burden. Like it was normal. The thought was strange, almost too big to hold, but Harry hugged it to himself anyway.
---
Harry scrolled aimlessly through the movie list while Tony banged around in the kitchen, the buttery smell of popcorn already filling the air. Happy had disappeared after breakfast, muttering about their dwindling food supplies, and wouldn’t be back until dinner.
“What looks good, kiddo?” Tony asked as he flopped onto the couch beside him, bowl in hand.
“I dunno,” Harry muttered, reaching into the bowl without thinking. His fingers brushed warm kernels, and he popped a few into his mouth before freezing. The old panic hit—he hadn’t asked. He wasn’t supposed to take without permission.
Tony’s hand was there almost instantly, rubbing lightly at the back of his neck. “Hey. You don’t have to ask to eat, Harry. Everything’s okay.”
Harry swallowed hard, then nodded.
The Incredibles sat highlighted on the screen. He jabbed the button on the remote, needing a distraction more than he cared about which film.
“Solid choice,” Tony said, stretching out with his feet on the coffee table, arms settling casually along the back of the couch. “Pretty funny, too. You’ll like it.”
Harry let out a shaky breath and forced himself to take another handful. This time, when Tony didn’t say anything—didn’t so much as glance at him—he felt the strange rush of both fear and relief. By the time the film’s bright colors and quick voices pulled him in, the popcorn was half gone and his shoulders had eased against Tony’s side.
He tried to stay awake—if only because the movie really was good—but his eyelids grew heavier with each scene. By the time Mrs. Incredible stormed the lab to rescue her husband, Harry’s head kept bobbing forward in jerks.
Tony gave a soft huff of laughter and tugged him closer. “Take a nap, buddy. I’m not going anywhere.”
Harry let himself tip into the warmth at Tony’s side, cheek pressed against the man’s chest. The steady, even thump of his heartbeat filled his ears, quieting the last anxious whispers in his head. His grip on the blanket loosened, and with one last blink, his eyes slid shut.
For the first time he could remember, falling asleep didn’t feel so much like surrender—it felt safe.
---
He didn’t know how long he slept, but the shadows had deepened in the room. His head was still resting comfortably against Tony’s side and was surprised the man really hadn’t left.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, kiddo,” Tony said gently, clicking the screen of his phone off as Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“What time is it?” Harry asked groggily.
“A little after three,” Tony informed him.
Harry nodded, a yawn forming.
“How do you feel about getting some fresh air? We can loop the block or something before Happy gets back,” Tony suggested.
It sounded great, actually.
“Yeah, sure,” Harry agreed, going into a long stretch. He’d been in his pajamas all day, which was a rare comfort, and looked down. “I gotta change, first.”
“You don’t want everyone to see your Iron Man pajamas?” Tony asked, affecting a very put upon voice. “You wound me, kiddo.”
Harry couldn’t help but smile as he stood up, 98% sure he was kidding. “Sure, Tony.”
Tony’s return smile was dazzling. “Go get dressed. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”
---
Harry came back out in light-blue jeans and a grey hoodie, tugging the sleeves over his hands.
Tony gave him a once-over and nodded, like he was passing some kind of inspection.
“Stylish. Very London street chic. Let’s go before I decide to change too and we both look like we’re hiding from the fashion police.”
They rode the elevator down, Tony filling the silence with idle chatter about what Happy could possibly be planning for dinner tonight. Harry listened, but his stomach was twisting the closer they got to the lobby. Fresh air sounded good… but outside also meant people.
The moment the glass doors slid open and they stepped out, the sharp snap of camera shutters made him flinch. A cluster of strangers crowded the sidewalk, flashes popping in bursts of white light. Voices overlapped, too loud, too fast.
“Mr. Stark! Who’s the boy?”
“Tony, is that same child you were seen with two weeks ago?”
“Where’s Ms. Potts?”
Harry’s breath hitched, the noise crashing down like a wave. He stumbled back, hands clutching at his hoodie, every instinct screaming at him to vanish. He started calling forth magic in his mind, imagining himself disappearing, willing it.
But then Tony moved. He crouched low, sliding in front of Harry like a shield, one hand firm on his shoulder.
“Hey, hey. Eyes on me, bud,” Tony said quietly, his voice steady even as the crowd pressed closer. “Breathe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Harry tried, gulping air in shaky bursts. The flashes kept going, but Tony’s broad frame blocked most of it, the warmth of his hand anchoring him.
“Listen up!” Tony suddenly barked, his tone snapping like a whip. The reporters jolted. “Back it up. You’re not getting a headline out of harassing a kid. One more step and I call it trespassing. Clear?”
The crowd muttered, cameras lowering reluctantly. Harry kept his gaze locked on Tony’s sleeve, refusing to look at their faces.
“C’mon, kiddo,” Tony murmured, his voice soft again as he guided him back inside. “Fresh air’s overrated anyway. We’ll stick to the balcony next time.”
---
Harry was still shaking when they returned to the penthouse.
“Well, how was that for your first taste of fame?” Tony asked lightly, steering him toward a stool at the island.
Harry didn’t answer. His emotions were locked tight, the tremors in his hands refusing to stop.
“You handled it like a champ, Harry,” Tony said, sliding closer. “I’ll see what I can do about getting them to back off.”
The elevator dinged, and Happy appeared with his arms full of grocery bags.
“Paparazzi were swarming out there, boss. What happened?”
“We made the supreme mistake of trying to get some cardio,” Tony said, grabbing a bag out of Happy’s hands.
Happy set the rest on the counter, scowling. “They didn’t try anything, did they?”
Tony shook his head, pulling items free. “Nah. Just the usual—too many cameras, not enough personal space. Kid handled it like a pro.”
Harry flushed, ducking his head. His fist curled tight around the hem of his hoodie. He didn’t feel like a pro. His pulse was still hammering, and the flashes still burned behind his eyes.
Happy caught the look anyway and softened his voice. “Hey, you did fine, Harry. Those vultures don’t know when to quit. You’ll learn to tune them out.”
“Not that I’m letting it get that far,” Tony cut in. He dropped a box of cereal on the counter with a little too much force. “Next time I’ll have JARVIS scramble their cameras. See how they like a memory card full of static.”
That tugged a fleeting smile out of Harry, gone as quick as it came.
“I don’t feel like cooking tonight,” Tony declared, sliding a glossy Chinese menu across the counter. “What do you think, kiddo? Dumplings? Noodles?”
“You don’t feel like cooking?” Happy said, eyebrows climbing.
Tony ignored him. He angled back toward Harry, his voice gentler. “Seriously. You’re safe now. Promise.”
Harry nodded quickly, grabbing the menu as a welcome distraction. He didn’t feel safe—not really—but with the sound of groceries thumping onto the counter and Tony and Happy’s familiar bickering filling the space, it almost felt like he could be.
---
Steam still clung to Harry’s skin as he padded into the bedroom, damp hair sticking to his forehead. He was wearing the new Shrek pajamas Tony had just bought, soft and smelling faintly of detergent that wasn’t too strong, just clean. He rubbed at his eyes, suddenly aware of how heavy they felt.
The bed was still impossibly big as he climbed into it, pulling the blanket up around his shoulders. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, willing the knot in his chest to loosen. The flashes of cameras still lingered behind his eyes if he let himself think too hard.
A quiet knock on the doorframe broke the thought. “You decent, kiddo?” Tony’s voice carried in, soft and warm.
“Yeah,” Harry mumbled.
Tony came in holding something under his arm — the Norse book from earlier, a corner of the bookmark poking out. He set it on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Thought you might want this close by. Emergency reading material.”
Harry nodded, fingers already twitching toward it.
Tony reached out, tugging the blanket snug around his shoulders. “Big couple days, huh? Doctor, school, paparazzi ambush… you survived it all. Pretty impressive résumé for a seven-year-old.”
Harry ducked his head, heat crawling up his neck, but some part of him swelled at the words.
“Get some sleep, buddy,” Tony said more softly. “You’re safe here. I’ve got you.”
Something in the way he said it — so matter-of-fact, like it wasn’t even a question — made Harry’s throat ache. He nodded quickly, afraid that if he spoke it would crack.
Tony ruffled his damp hair once, then stood and headed for the door. “Night, kiddo.”
“Night, Tony,” Harry whispered back.
The light clicked off, leaving only the faint glow of the city through the curtains. Harry curled tighter under the blanket, his eyes lingering on the book on the nightstand. His eyes slid closed, thoughts lingering on the adventures of Thor and Loki.
Notes:
We're going places, I swear - building blocks!
Chapter 10: Chapter 10
Notes:
Gonna keep posting these 3-5k word 'snippets' until I get through Harry's birthday. Hope y'all are enjoying and that it doesn't feel like it's dragging/ rushing. Really trying to balance everything.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Tony’s POV)
Sun bled through the curtains, bringing a relief from the two days of rain they’d had. Tony had slept like a rock, hardly moving, and he grunted with satisfaction as he stretched.
“Morning, JARVIS,” he said, tapping his watch.
“Good morning, sir,” the AI replied. “I feel it prudent to warn you that there has been something of an explosion regarding you and young Harry in the press.”
“How bad?” Tony asked, his head flopping against the pillows.
“Tabloids, news sites, gossip blogs – they all have pictures from yesterday’s altercation. Many are speculating on Ms. Potts’ sudden departure being linked to Harry,” JARVIS replied.
“Give me the worst ones,” Tony requested.
“The top headlines are: ‘Tony Stark’s Secret Love Child?’, ‘Mystery Orphan or Heir to Stark Empire?’, and ‘Potts and Stark are OVER.’”
Tony’s good mood had evaporated in a matter of about two minutes.
JARVIS had barely finished reading the day’s greatest hits when his phone buzzed.
The caller ID glared: Pepper Potts.
Of course.
He almost let it go to voicemail, but JARVIS, traitor that he was, piped up:
“Sir, I recommend you answer. Ms. Potts could be calling to offer a solution.”
Tony groaned and thumbed the screen. “Morning, Potts. To what do I owe the pleasure of your attention?”
“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice clipped and precise as glass. “Don’t start with jokes. Have you seen the press? You and Harry splashed all over every outlet in London, and not a single statement from you?”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I just got the highlight reel. ‘Secret love child,’ ‘Potts dumped him for someone taller’—they’re getting creative. Personally, I think we should run a poll for the most creative headline. Winner gets a new camera.”
“Tony,” she said, low and warning. That tone had always cut through his bravado. “This isn’t about you. That boy doesn’t deserve to be dragged through gossip rags because you refuse to control a narrative.”
That stung more than he wanted to admit. “It’s not like I paraded him down the red carpet, Pep. We went for a walk. A walk. He’s seven.”
“And now seven million people are speculating about his parentage, his future, his connection to Stark Industries,” she shot back. “Do you even realize what kind of target that paints on him?”
His chest tightened. Of course he realized. The idea of Harry’s face taped to a wall somewhere— terrorists, or some desperate lunatic—was enough to make his vision go white. But he wasn’t about to hand Pepper that admission.
“I’ll handle it,” he said instead.
“You can’t just wing this. You need to make a statement. Even if it’s nothing more than ‘he’s under my guardianship, and the rest is private.’ Something to stop all the speculation.”
Tony hesitated. The words “my guardianship” still caught at his throat, even though it was true. Because if he says it out loud, it becomes real. Irrevocable.
Pepper seemed to hear the lack of admission in the silence. Her voice softened, just a notch. “You care about him. That’s obvious. So show people you’re not ashamed of it.”
The call ended not long after, but her words lingered. He sat there for a long time, staring at the phone in his hand, before muttering to JARVIS, “Send an email to legal. Draft something airtight. Short, clean. No loopholes.”
“Yes, sir,” JARVIS replied smoothly.
Tony leaned back, rubbing both hands over his face. Pepper was right. If he screwed this up, Harry would pay the price. And Tony Stark could live with a lot of things—bad press, public hatred, sleepless nights—but not that.
---
(Harry’s POV)
Harry was over halfway through the thick book on Norse mythology that the librarian had given him, reading while propped up in bed, when his stomach gave a rumble for the third time that morning.
He sighed.
Usually he waited until he heard Tony leave his room before he planned on eating, knowing he had permission to find food, but not believing it. His stomach seemed to have a different idea today.
He slid the bookmark in between the pages and set the book on his nightstand, doing a light stretch before padding out of his room.
Harry crept down the hall, stomach aching too much to ignore. He slowed when he reached Tony’s door. A voice, sharp and unfamiliar in the quiet, made him stop cold.
“…splashed all over every outlet in London, and not a single statement from you?”
Harry froze. Ms. Potts. He edged closer before he could think better of it.
“It’s not like I paraded him down the red carpet, Pep. We went for a walk. A walk. He’s seven,” Tony’s voice shot back.
“And now seven million people are speculating about his parentage, his future, his connection to Stark Industries. Do you even realize what kind of target that paints on him?”
Harry’s breath hitched. Target. Parentage. Future. He wrapped his arms around himself, nails digging into the soft cotton of his shirt.
He caught Tony’s muffled reply — “I’ll handle it” — and then Pepper’s tone, softer but cutting just as deep:
“You care about him. That’s obvious. So show people you’re not ashamed of it.”
Harry staggered back a step, retreating to his room before the call ended. He dropped onto the bed. Not ashamed? Of course Tony was ashamed. Why else hadn’t he told anyone the truth? Pepper was right — Tony’s whole world would be easier if Harry wasn’t in it.
He tugged the blanket over his head, willing the sting in his eyes to stop.
The knock came minutes later. “Hey, kiddo? You decent?”
Harry wiped furiously at his face. “Yeah.”
Tony slipped in, still holding his phone. He took one look at Harry’s blotchy face and sighed. “You heard that, huh?”
Harry’s throat closed, but he forced the words out, pulling the blanket back over his head. “She’s right. You shouldn’t have to deal with… with me. Everyone’s mad. You’d be better off without me.”
Tony blinked, then swore under his breath. He sat on the bed, reaching to tug the blanket down so he could see Harry’s face. “Okay, listen to me. You are not a burden. Not a problem. Not a PR nightmare. You’re Harry. My kid. And I don’t give a damn what Pepper—or anyone—thinks about that.”
Harry shook his head, tears threatening again. “But if people think you’re ashamed—”
Tony’s hand landed gently on his shoulder, grounding. “Pepper said I should show people I’m not ashamed. And she’s right. I’m not. Not even a little. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. That’s the story. That’s the headline. Got it?”
Harry swallowed hard and nodded. Something uncoiled in his chest at the certainty in Tony’s voice. He believed him. At least, a little.
Tony gave his hair a gentle ruffle. “Good. Now, come on. Happy’s guarding the cookies like they’re state secrets. I need backup.”
A startled laugh slipped out of Harry before he could stop it. Tony’s grin widened like he’d been aiming for that all along.
“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Harry said. “I’m just gonna get dressed and brush my teeth, first.”
---
(Tony’s POV)
Tony shut the door softly after leaving Harry’s room. His chest still felt tight from the look on the kid’s face — that brittle mix of fear and shame. Pepper’s words echoed in his head: show people you’re not ashamed of it.
He made it as far as the kitchen before barking, “J, get legal on the line. Priority one.”
“Yes, sir,” JARVIS replied smoothly, a new voice chiming in almost instantly.
“Mr. Stark?” Stride said warily — no surprise there. “I assume this is about the media circus and email I just got.”
“You assume correctly. I need a statement drafted. Short, airtight, and lawyer-proof. No wiggle room for tabloids to spin it into secret mistresses.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Something along the lines of: yes, Harry’s under my guardianship, no, it’s not anyone’s business beyond that. Period.”
There was a pause. “You don’t want to get ahead of speculation? Address paternity rumors, succession rights—?”
“No,” Tony snapped. Then, softer, “No. The kid’s seven, Stride. I’m not throwing him to the wolves because people want clickbait. Keep it minimal. Stark Industries can weather the press. Harry doesn’t need to.”
“Understood,” came the measured reply. “I’ll prepare a draft within the hour.”
Tony ended the call and dropped onto the couch, head tilted back against the cushions. He hated this part — the spin, the optics, the way every word became a weapon. But if it meant shielding Harry, he’d choke it down.
“Sir,” JARVIS said after a beat. “May I suggest accompanying the statement with a single press photo? One taken under your control, not theirs. It would reduce demand for paparazzi images.”
Tony groaned. “A photo op. Fantastic. What do you want me to do, J? Stage a father-son trip to the park?”
“Something less public might suffice,” JARVIS replied. “Perhaps a neutral portrait. Calm. Domestic.”
Tony pictured Harry’s wary eyes, the way he’d flinched from all the cameras. A photo under their terms, not the press’s… maybe that wasn’t the worst idea.
“Fine. But no matching sweaters, J. I draw the line at Hallmark family cards.”
“Noted, sir.”
---
Tony’s phone chirped as they sat at the island in the kitchen, Harry with a bowl of cereal, and Tony with a pack of cookies and a glass of milk. He pulled the email up, scanned it, then slid the device in front of Harry.
“How’s that sound?” He asked.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Stark Industries Public Relations Office
Date: 04/18/2010
Statement Regarding Recent Media Speculation
In light of recent reports, Mr. Anthony Stark would like to clarify the following:
- Mr. Stark is currently serving as the legal guardian of one minor child, Harry Evans.
- Harry is not a “secret heir,” “love child,” or the subject of any scandal. He is a child, deserving of dignity and privacy.
- Any speculation beyond this statement is inaccurate and inappropriate.
Mr. Stark has requested that the press respect the privacy of his ward. Stark Industries remains committed to supporting Mr. Stark and his family in this matter, and legal action will be pursued against individuals or organizations who harass, endanger, or attempt to exploit the minor in question.
Mr. Stark is grateful for the support he has received and asks that focus remain where it belongs — on the future, not on tabloid rumor.
For inquiries, please contact the Stark Industries PR Office directly.
– Stark Industries Public Relations
“I- I think it’s good,” Harry replied, sounding relieved.
“I agree. Though we really should be telling them to get stuffed. You shouldn’t be getting used for a headline,” Tony said.
Harry’s fingers tightened on his spoon, but he gave a small shrug, going back to his cereal.
“JARVIS thought it might be a good idea to have our picture taken – here in the penthouse – to curb the paparazzi’s thirst,” Tony continued.
To his surprise, Harry’s mouth twitched up in a small smile. He bobbed his head. “That sounds… nice.”
Tony blinked. For all his big talk, he hadn’t expected Harry to agree so easily. “Good, good,” he said, covering his shock with a nod. “After breakfast, then. Nothing fancy. No flashing lights, no feeding frenzy—just you and me in our natural habitat.”
Harry laughed softly. “Yeah. Our habitat.”
Tony tucked away that laugh like it was worth more than Stark stock options.
(Harry’s POV)
The fact that Tony was willing to go to such lengths to claim him… still didn’t feel real. He stood next to the man, who was wearing an old MIT T-shirt and a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee, while Happy messed with a camera on a tripod, going back and forth with Tony about which angle was best.
Harry had on his black hoodie with the T-rex on the front and a pair of dark jeans – looking much the same as he had when they went out on Friday. He played with the seams in the front pocket, a little uneasy at having their picture taken, but also feeling wanted in a way that he had rarely, if ever, felt before.
“Alright, fine, you win,” Happy said, backing the tripod up a few feet. “But I’m telling you, the lighting is better when I’m closer.”
“It’s for the press, Hap. I don’t give a damn about the lighting,” Tony replied dryly. “We can worry about getting a good family picture for the Christmas card later.”
There he said it again: family. Harry’s heart fluttered, his cheeks going pink, and he had to duck his head.
“Whatever you say, boss,” Happy said.
Tony’s hand landed softly on his neck.
“One picture, just you and me. A statement saying: ‘We’ve got this’.”
Harry nodded, looking up at the man.
“Thank you, Tony.”
Tony was looking at him, a warm smile lighting his face.
“You’re welcome, kiddo. Always,” he replied.
A flash startled both of them, and Tony immediately scowled.
“Did I say we were ready?” He growled.
“Why don’t you look at this before dragging me through the nine layers of hell?” Happy challenged, approaching them with the camera.
Tony rolled his eyes, but took the device. His irritation melted into another smile.
“I think you might have missed your calling, Hap. You should have been a photographer,” Tony said lightly, turning the screen so Harry could see.
Harry was looking up at Tony, clear fondness on his face while Tony smiled down at him.
Warmth spread through him at the emotion on display — it almost felt like… like love. And it wasn’t being stolen in some cruel flash of cameras outside, but caught here, in their space, because Tony wanted it.
“I really like that,” Harry said softly.
Tony’s hand squeezed lightly at his shoulder. “Good. Then that’s the one.”
Harry looked at the photo again, his own small smile mirrored in Tony’s. He didn’t feel like an intruder in the frame - he felt like he belonged in it.
Tony ruffled his hair and handed the camera back to Happy. “Alright, print that one. Stick it in the press release, and then blow it up for the fridge. That’s what normal families do, right?”
Happy groaned, muttering something about magnets scratching stainless steel, but Harry hardly heard. He was still holding on to the warmth in his chest, the strange, steady certainty that Tony wanted him here.
That picture, along with the press release, was sent out to the world the next day. And though the headlines didn’t vanish, the wildest rumors slowed. The paparazzi would keep their distance, at least for a while.
By the time Harry’s first day at South Fulham rolled around, the photo had become a fixture on the fridge, just like Tony had said. And Harry carried that image with him — a quiet reminder that he wasn’t alone — when he buttoned his new uniform shirt and tried to believe he could face school.
---
Harry fidgeted with the hem of his jumper, tugging it down for the tenth time that morning. The uniform still felt strange, stiff against his skin.
“Who is this dashing young man in my kitchen?” Tony asked loudly as he strode in. “JARVIS, I think we’ve got an intruder.”
Harry blushed and lowered his head. “Very funny, Tony.”
“Hey, I’m serious. Look at you—tie straight, hair’s almost tame… You’re practically unrecognizable.” Tony came closer, messing with his tie and fixing the back of his collar with exaggerated care. “How’re you feeling?”
Harry’s voice was small. “Okay, I guess. Ready for today to be over already.”
Tony crouched so they were eye level. “Fair. First days are rough. But remember—you’re not going in to win any awards. Just try. That’s all I’m asking.”
Harry nodded, clutching his backpack straps a little tighter.
“Good man,” Tony said, giving his shoulder a squeeze before straightening. “Happy’ll get you there in one piece. And if anyone gives you grief—don’t start a fight before lunch, alright? Wait until at least recess.”
That pulled a quick, startled laugh out of Harry, and Tony winked.
“Go learn things. I’ll pick you up with Happy today.”
---
“How about some hot chocolate?” Happy asked as they neared the school. “We’ve got some time to kill.”
“S-sure, Happy. Thank you.” Harry replied, thankful for the distraction and delay.
The car ride had mostly been silent and Harry was a bundle of nerves.
“No problem, kid,” Happy replied, pulling into a Starbucks drive-thru. “And don’t worry about today, alright? You’ll be just fine.”
Harry nodded, thinking about the library more than anything else. Even if school ended up sucking, he was looking forward to that part.
He wrapped both hands around the warm cup when Happy passed it back, the steam curling against his face. It smelled faintly of chocolate and sugar, rich and comforting.
“Careful, it’s hot,” Happy warned.
Harry nodded, taking a cautious sip. The warmth spread through him, easing the cold knot in his stomach just a little.
Happy glanced at him in the mirror. “First days are rough. I remember mine. Thought I was gonna hurl the whole ride.”
Harry’s eyes darted up, startled. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Happy said with a shrug. “But you know what? By the end of the day, I’d already made a friend. Didn’t even see it coming. Sometimes good things sneak up on you like that.”
Harry let that settle as he sipped again, clinging to the idea that maybe — just maybe — he wouldn’t feel alone all day.
---
The guard nodded to Happy as the rolled up to the gates, letting them pass without hesitation this time.
Harry felt like his stomach was in his throat as he saw all the kids mingling in large and small groups at the front of the school.
Happy rolled to a stop in front of the steps that led to the front office. “You remember where to go, Harry? Chloe is going to take you to your first class and introduce you.”
“Yeah, Happy,” Harry nodded. “See you later, I guess.”
“I’ll be here at 2:40 on the dot. Have a good day, kid.”
---
Harry took a deep breath as Happy drove away, clutching his bag tighter while climbing the steps. The chatter and laughter outside felt deafening, but he kept his eyes fixed on the office door. Inside, Chloe was waiting with a warm smile.
“Good morning, Harry,” she greeted. “Ready to meet your classmates?”
He nodded, falling into step behind her as they walked down the hall. The walls were covered in bright artwork and lopsided paper cutouts. It already felt miles away from his old school—no grey paint, no teachers barking at stragglers.
They stopped at a door painted with colorful handprints. “Mrs. Williams?” Chloe called softly. “I’ve got Mr. Evans with me.”
The tall brunette teacher looked up, smiling as she came closer. She crouched to his eye level. “Good morning, Harry.”
Instinctively, he brushed against her mind, bracing for disdain. Instead, all he caught was: Poor thing looks terrified. That’s okay—we’ll ease him in. George and Lucy should be solid partners.
Relief loosened the knot in his stomach. He gave a tiny nod. “Good morning, Mrs. Williams.”
“Let’s get you settled. George, Lucy—hands up, please.”
Two kids waved from a nearby table. George had a wide grin; Lucy’s ponytail bounced as she shifted over to make room.
Harry quickly walked toward them and slid into the seat, bracing for a whisper or a stare. Instead:
“Hi!” George said brightly. “I’m George. This is Lucy.”
“H-hi,” Harry stammered, startled by how normal they sounded. “I’m Harry.”
Lucy quietly nudged her workbook toward him so he could see the page. George leaned over and whispered something silly about the teacher’s marker squeaking, just loud enough to make Harry’s lips twitch.
And just like that, he realized he didn’t need to press into their minds at all. They weren’t hiding anything sharp, anything cruel.
---
The rest of the day blurred by in colors and voices, numbers on the board, crayons scattered on tables. It wasn’t easy—his stomach was still tight, and he hated the stares when roll call hit his name. But no one shoved him, no one snapped at him. For the first time, school wasn’t awful. And maybe, Harry thought as he packed his bag at the bell, maybe that was enough.
---
The moment the car door shut, Harry let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The voices and clatter of the schoolyard faded behind the tinted windows, leaving only the soft purr of the Rolls.
Tony twisted in his seat immediately. “So? What’s the verdict? Am I pulling you out and hiring some dusty old tutor, or do we stick with the uniforms and cafeteria food?”
Harry clutched the straps of his bag, hesitant. “It was… better than I thought.”
One of Tony’s eyebrows climbed. “Better? That’s dangerously close to a compliment.”
Harry ducked his head, fighting a smile. “George and Lucy… they were nice. They showed me where everything was. At lunch, Lucy made George laugh so hard that milk came out his nose.”
Tony snapped his fingers. “See? Networking already. Next step, global domination.”
A laugh slipped out before Harry could stop it.
Tony leaned back, grinning. “Okay, but seriously. You don’t have to love it. You don’t even have to like it every day. But if you’ve got a couple of kids who’ve got your back? That’s a win. Take it.”
Harry nodded, warmth blooming in his chest at the praise.
“Good,” Tony said, voice softening. “Because I don’t need perfection, kiddo. I just need you to try. And from the look on your face, you nailed that today.”
Happy’s eyes caught Harry’s in the rearview mirror, giving him a quick wink. For the first time since yesterday’s mess with the cameras, Harry felt… maybe not normal, but close enough.
He settled back against the seat, the city blurring past, and thought that maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be so bad, either.
---
By the time they reached the penthouse, Harry’s nerves had smoothed into a kind of tired calm. The day hadn’t been perfect, but it hadn’t been a disaster either.
He slipped off his shoes next to the elevator, his bag thumping to the floor as he padded toward the kitchen. Tony was already raiding the fridge, pulling out a bottle of juice and tossing it his way without comment. Harry caught it with both hands, blinking in surprise.
“So, tell me,” Tony said, leaning against the counter. “Learn any state secrets today? Crack the code to the universe?”
Harry shook his head, smiling shyly. “No. But Lucy showed me how to do times tables. I got it wrong the first time, but then… I fixed it. She didn’t laugh.”
Tony’s expression softened, his usual smirk settling into something steadier. “Atta boy. See? Not so scary when people are on your side.”
Harry ducked his head, warmth pooling in his chest.
Later, after his shower, Tony came by to tug the blanket up around his shoulders and flick off the lamp. “Not bad for a first day,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow, we do it again. No pressure. Just one step at a time.”
Harry curled tighter into the covers, eyes already heavy. He wanted to say thank you — for the juice, for his support, for everything — but sleep tugged him under before he could.
He dreamt of them spending time in the lab.
Notes:
Considering going back and rewriting chapters 1-5 so that there's not such an obvious change in writing styles. Thoughts?
Chapter 11: Chapter 11
Notes:
TW: Brief, but explicit child abuse, with references of the worst kind.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Tony’s POV)
It had been a few weeks since Harry had started school, and Tony felt it was time to reward his good behavior. There had been a couple times Harry came home, unwilling to talk about school – but more often than not, he chatted happily about George and Lucy, and the things they were learning.
Tony dug elbow-deep through one of the scrap crates, the clatter of metal and plastic echoing around the lab. He ignored the neat little drawers of organized parts against the wall—this was more fun. Besides, there was treasure in the junk if you knew where to look.
Behind him, Harry was perched on a stool like he wasn’t sure if sitting there was actually allowed. His small hands were folded tight in his lap, eyes tracking Tony’s every move like the man might suddenly throw something at him.
“Found it,” Tony muttered, straightening with something vaguely toaster-shaped in hand. He dusted it off with exaggerated reverence before setting it on the bench. “Behold. The foundation of greatness.”
Harry blinked at the half-toaster, an eyebrow raised. “…Okay?”
“Robot pet,” Tony announced, like it should’ve been obvious. “All kids should have a pet. Except I’m skipping the drool, the fur, and the food bills. We’ll build you one that actually listens. Revolutionary concept, right?”
Harry’s lips twitched, just barely. It was progress, Tony told himself. Big progress.
“Question is…” Tony grabbed a marker and sketched a quick stick-dog on the whiteboard, complete with blocky legs and antenna ears. “Do we go with wheels or legs? Wheels are reliable, but legs? Way cooler. Way more work, though.”
Harry hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek. That hesitance was becoming familiar—like the kid was bracing to be shut down, waiting to be told he picked wrong. Tony forced himself to stay quiet, giving him the space.
“…Legs,” Harry said finally, so softly it was almost a whisper.
Tony clapped his hands together. “Excellent choice. Ambitious. Bold. You’ve got vision, kid. Okay, Designer-in-Chief, you and me—we’re building the first StarkPup. Mark One.”
He slid a box of parts toward Harry. The boy blinked down at the jumble of wires, screws, and brackets like the foreign objects they were. Slowly, though, his small fingers reached in, pulling out a plastic joint with something like curiosity lighting in his eyes.
Tony hid his grin by turning back to the crate. Yeah, he thought, as the lab filled with the sound of pieces clinking and JARVIS quietly cataloguing parts in the background. This was how you did it. No speeches, no pressure—just giving the kid space to build something of his own.
Tony began to hope that maybe Harry wasn’t just surviving under his roof. He was starting to live.
---
(Harry’s POV)
Working in the lab was one of Harry’s favorite things in life. In here, it was just him, Tony, and whatever project they were working on.
Tony’s offer to let him help build his own robot was an unexpected, but welcome surprise. It would take hours, maybe days to complete, but that guaranteed spending hours, or days, in a space where Tony was almost a different person. He still cracked jokes, still made Harry blush at the most random things, but he was also just so… sure of himself. Anything Harry did wrong, he was there in a flash to help correct, and he never made Harry feel stupid for messing up in the first place.
It wasn’t like at school, where outside of George and Lucy, if he did something wrong, kids would sometimes make fun of him. They also made fun of him for being small, and an orphan, but he was a master of not letting people see him hurt, so he refused to let them get a rise out of him.
In the lab – he was starting to truly feel safe. Like nothing could go wrong here. Which was crazy, because Tony often made things explode randomly, puffs of black smoke forcing them to evacuate while it aired out on more than one occasion.
They’d been working through the morning, stopping only long enough to grab a sandwich for lunch, before they came right back and buried their heads in the StarkPup. Tony was working across from him, providing feedback when it was necessary, screwing things together when it wasn’t.
Harry reached for another screw driver, moving too quickly, his arm brushing a leg he’d just painstakingly finished putting together, sending it sailing toward the ground.
The loud *crack* echoed in the quiet hum of the lab, and Harry instinctively braced to get shouted at, eyes closing of their own volition.
Tony’s quiet footsteps stopped beside him, and he heard him stoop down to get the leg off the ground.
“Durability testing – not a bad idea,” he said. “Might have a little crack around one of the screw points, but it’s fine otherwise.”
Harry released the breath he was holding, opening his eyes to see Tony holding the leg toward him.
“No worries, kid. Nothing broke, and even if it did – everything is fixable,” Tony said softly.
Harry nodded, hating the way he always assumed the worst when something happened. He knew Tony wouldn’t hurt him – so why did he always react like he would?
He set the cracked joint on the bench and picked out a fresh one from the box, careful this time not to rush. His fingers fumbled at first, but he forced himself to slow down, to breathe. When he looked up, Tony wasn’t hovering or correcting—just watching with that steady, patient look.
Harry swapped the piece, tightened the screws, and glanced over.
“I can just swap this piece out, yeah?” he asked, needing the reassurance anyway.
Tony nodded, smiling. “Yup, that’s exactly what I would do.”
---
Happy had just yelled upstairs that dinner was ready when Harry got done tapping out the line of code Tony relayed to him.
He hesitated a moment before pressing enter, preparing himself for nothing to happen, then slapped the key.
The StarkPup jerked on the table, a robotic bark coming from the small speaker they’d housed inside it.
A startled laugh burst out of him before he could stop it, bright and sharp and strange in his own ears. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that—not because someone else said something was funny, but because he was proud.
“Did you see that? It actually worked,” he gushed.
“I had complete faith in you, kiddo. Excellent job,” Tony praised.
Harry let the words wash over him, happiness radiating from somewhere in his chest.
They had a lot of coding to do before it would do anything other than wobble in place and give a generic bark, but the fact that they’d gotten to this stage in a day blew his mind.
“Thank you, Tony,” he said, quiet and fierce.
Tony replied it like it was nothing—anytime, Harry—but the warmth of his hand squeezing lightly at Harry’s neck said something different. Something solid. Something Harry wanted to hold on to with both hands.
“Now,” Tony added, like nothing extraordinary had just happened, “let’s go see what Happy threw together for dinner.”
---
Happy had laid out spaghetti and meatballs, the smell filling the kitchen as Tony and Harry finally wandered in from the lab.
“About time,” Happy grumbled, ladling sauce onto a plate. “I was two seconds from getting JARVIS to force you out.”
Tony dropped into his chair with a dramatic sigh. “Please. JARVIS would never betray me like that.”
“I’d betray you for a hot meal,” JARVIS replied smoothly over the speakers.
Harry snorted, clapping a hand over his mouth too late. Tony pointed a mock-offended finger at him. “Don’t encourage him, kid. He’s already unionizing.”
Happy slid a plate in front of Harry, who picked up his fork cautiously before twirling the pasta. The first bite nearly made him groan out loud— it was easily the best spaghetti he’d ever had.
“This is really good, Happy,” Harry said earnestly, cheeks pink.
Happy’s frown softened just a little as he sat down across from him. “Thanks, kid. Somebody around here has to make sure you eat real food.”
Tony scooped a meatball onto his fork and waved it around like a pointer. “For the record, I can cook. I just choose to channel my genius into more important pursuits. Like robot dogs.”
Harry hid his smile behind another bite of pasta. Happy just rolled his eyes. “Right. Next time you cook, I’m keeping the fire extinguisher within arm’s reach.”
Dinner passed with the usual bickering between Happy and Tony, and Harry found himself watching them with a strange sort of contentment. No one was yelling at him, no one was angry. They argued, sure—but it was safe. Almost… normal.
The StarkPup prototype sat on his nightstand, its little legs sticking out at odd angles, frozen mid-wobble. Harry had insisted on carrying it in after dinner, even though it was far from finished. Just having it there felt… safe.
Safety that didn’t follow him into his dreams.
He was back in the cupboard, dread flooding him. He could hear Aunt Petunia getting ready to leave – going to get more of the powdered white stuff that made them act different – 'happy'.
The door had barely closed behind her before his cupboard was thrown open, his uncle standing in front of him with a wicked look on his face.
“How is my little freak doing today?” He said viciously, a meaty hand ripping Harry out by the front of his shirt. He carried him up the stairs, still holding him by the shirt, and easily threw him on the bed. “One scream, boy, and you won’t eat for the rest of the week.”
He tried to twist away, to shrink into a ball, but a fist connected with his stomach, driving the air from his lungs.
“How dare you turn away from me, you ungrateful little freak. You should be happy that I show you any kind of attention!” Vernon shouted, punctuating his words with painful fists. The sound of his zipper coming down, while Harry gasped for air -
Harry woke with a scream dying on his lips, sitting bolt upright, sweat slick on his skin. His chest was heaving, throat raw from yelling. It took him a second to realize he wasn’t in the cupboard – he was in the penthouse, in his bed, far away from them.
The door opened quietly. “Harry?” Tony’s said, voice rough with sleep – but steady. Not Uncle Vernon. Not shouting.
Harry curled into himself as tears began dripping down his face, dragging the blanket up, trying to make the tremors that rocked through him stop. He hated this - hated feeling weak.
The mattress dipped. Tony didn’t touch him right away, didn’t crowd him. He just sat close enough that Harry could feel the warmth radiating off him. “Nightmare?” he asked softly.
Harry nodded, his throat too tight and sore to answer.
Tony leaned against the headboard, keeping his voice calm, like they had all the time in the world. “Alright. Here’s the thing: whatever you saw, it’s not there. Not happening right now. You’re in your bed. You’ve got your robot dog on guard duty, and you’ve got me. That’s real. The rest is smoke.”
Harry hesitated, then shifted, inching closer until he could press his cheek against Tony’s side. He curled a fist into the man’s shirt, holding on like it was the only thing keeping him from drowning.
“He used to wait for Aunt Petunia to leave,” Harry whispered, his stomach clenching painfully. “Then he would drag me upstairs, and - ” He shook his head violently, voice breaking. “I don’t want to go back to sleep, Tony.”
Tony shifted, and Harry jerked back on instinct, heart in his throat. He braced for the snap, the blow, the sting of being called a freak. “Don’t leave, I’m sorry” Harry blurted, sounding broken and small.
Tony’s hands curled into fists, knuckles bleaching white in the dim light. Harry’s stomach dropped—this was it, he was about to be hit. But instead, Tony sucked in a breath so sharp it almost hissed, forced his fingers open like it took effort, and lowered one steady, careful hand to rest on Harry’s back.
“I’m not leaving, kid. Not now, not ever. And for the record—what they did? What he did? That wasn’t discipline, or care, or anything close. That was abuse. It was wrong. And if that bastard were here right now—” Tony’s voice roughened, heat breaking through, his jaw clenched tight. “I swear to God, he wouldn’t walk away from it.”
Harry blinked up at him, wide-eyed, tears stopping from pure shock. He’d never seen an adult angry for him before—only angry at him. And somehow, seeing Tony’s fury directed at Vernon made the knot in his chest loosen, just a little.
Tony’s voice softened again, steady as steel. “You’re safe now. Nobody lays a hand on you again. You’ve got me on night watch—full shift.”
Harry sagged against him, letting the words wrap around him. With Tony there, the cupboard stayed closed, the fists didn’t land, and the voices faded.
His grip slackened as sleep pulled him under once more.
On the nightstand, StarkPup stood frozen mid-step, its legs crooked but sturdy—like it was standing guard. Just like Tony.
---
(Tony’s POV)
Tony stayed awake long after Harry’s breathing evened out against his side, the boy’s small fist still knotted in his shirt like a lifeline. He didn’t dare move, not when the kid had just bared wounds so deep they still bled in his sleep.
His jaw ached from how hard he’d clenched it. He’d wanted to break something—someone—when Harry flinched from him. The kid had braced for a blow like it was muscle memory, like it was carved into him as natural as breathing.
It made Tony sick.
The old anger that usually fueled him in boardrooms and battlefields felt different here: sharper, colder, threaded with guilt. Because as much as he wanted to swear vengeance on the bastards who had touched Harry, he knew anger alone wouldn’t erase those scars.
He brushed a hand over Harry’s damp hair, gentle where he wanted to be violent. “You’re safe now, kiddo,” he whispered, even though Harry couldn’t hear him. “I’ll make damn sure of it.”
The StarkPup gleamed on the nightstand, crooked and silent, a half-built sentinel. Tony let out a slow breath. They’d finish it tomorrow. Piece by piece, line by line, until it stood on its own legs.
Just like Harry would.
But Tony wasn’t naïve. He could solder joints and code processors, but there were wounds he couldn’t patch up with duct tape and tech. All the books he’d read had been saying it since day one: therapy. The kid needed someone trained to help him untangle the mess he’d been forced to live through.
Problem was… Harry trusted him. Barely. Enough to whisper horrors into his shirt. Enough to cling like he’d never let go. Tony couldn’t imagine handing that trust off to a stranger in a beige office and expecting it to stick.
Still. Sooner or later, he’d have to raise the subject. Because if Harry was ever going to heal—not just survive, but heal—it would take more than a robot dog and a billionaire with good intentions.
Tony looked down at the boy sleeping against him, face still blotchy from tears. His throat burned. Yeah, he’d figure it out. Whatever it took.
And if Harry wouldn’t talk to anyone else? Then Tony Stark would just have to learn how to be the kind of man who could carry it.
---
Notes:
I have like, 6 chapters done. They are smaller - about 2300-3000 - but it's progressing the timeline while giving snapshots of their progress.
Loving the suggestions and feedback. Y'all are amazing!
Chapter 12: Chapter 12
Notes:
Double upload, following the schedule in my head (also, couldn't just leave it on that depressing ass chapter.)
Chapter Text
(Tony’s POV)
Miriam arrived at the penthouse on Monday afternoon. Tony hated how formal it all felt — legal pads, neat handwriting, that patient little smile she wore like armor. It reminded him, with a gut-punch clarity, that Harry’s life was under a microscope. One wrong move and someone could decide Stark wasn’t fit to play dad.
Harry was tucked away in the lab with JARVIS, “helping” run diagnostics on StarkPup, which gave Tony a few precious minutes alone. He wasn’t sure if he wanted them.
“You’re doing well, Tony,” Miriam began. “His teachers say he’s adjusting. He smiles more. But…” She leaned forward slightly. “He still startles easily. Have the night terrors stopped?”
Tony drummed his fingers against the counter, hesitating. “Stopped? No. Managed? Sort of. Saturday night he… let slip a few details.”
Her expression softened. “May I ask what kind?”
Tony’s jaw clenched. He hated saying it out loud, hated giving the nightmare more shape. But if anyone had to know, it was her. “Violence. Being dragged around. Thrown on a bed, before he couldn’t say anymore. It’s bad, Miriam. And it’s not just a bad memory — he expects it, like muscle memory. I moved wrong, and the kid braced like I was about to deck him.”
Miriam made a note, then looked up at him with quiet gravity. “That’s exactly why I want to gently recommend therapy. You’re a safe anchor, Tony — but you’re not trained for this. He needs tools to rewire those expectations.”
Tony bristled automatically. “I’ve already thought of that. And look, the fact that Harry trusts me at all is a goddamn miracle. He’s only just started talking about this stuff. I don’t see him opening up to some stranger in a beige office.”
Miriam’s voice stayed calm. “The fact that he trusts you shows he can heal. That he wants to. He may resist therapy at first, but if he knows he won’t be judged — if he knows he’s not alone in it — I believe he’ll come around. It’s about preparing him for that stage.”
Tony barked a laugh, sharp and humorless. “You realize this isn’t my wheelhouse, right? I build suits of armor and talk my way out of boardrooms. Everything I know about kids I learned from a stack of books Amazon dropped on my doorstep six weeks ago. And that’s being generous.”
He ran a hand through his hair, words spilling faster. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. I can weld titanium and improvise weapons out of junk, but I can’t stop a seven-year-old from flinching when I shift in bed. What if I’m just making it worse?”
The silence stretched. Miriam’s gaze was steady, never pitying. That somehow made it worse.
“Tony,” she said gently. “Harry doesn’t need a perfect father. He needs a safe one. The fact that he opens up to you at all is proof that you are safe for him. Don’t underestimate how rare that is.”
Tony leaned back, throat tight, staring at the ceiling. A press tour. That’s how this had started. A damn press tour, and he’d walked into a mess that ended with a seven-year-old calling his penthouse home. No partner, no roadmap — just him improvising again, this time not for himself.
And he wasn’t sure improvising would be enough.
“Tony,” Miriam said, recapturing his attention. “You’ve faced terrorists and hostile takeovers. You can’t sit there and tell me that sitting with Harry while he talks to someone scares you more than any of that.”
Tony scoffed, rejecting the notion immediately, even though she was ridiculously close to the mark. “I never said I was scared. I’m just not sure how I ended up in the position of caring for a child’s mental health when I can barely handle my own.”
Miriam gave him a calculating look. “Are you regretting your choice to foster him?”
“Of course not,” Tony replied immediately. “Never.”
“I think we’ll leave it at that, for now. If Harry is not willing to go to a therapist, I suggest you open yourself to the possibility of going with him, or potentially offering your own ear whenever he needs to talk. I have records of everything that his aunt, and his uncle, who is currently a fugitive from justice, did in that house — he needs to talk to someone,” Miriam said gently, closing her notebook. “I’ll just have a short one on one with Harry before I leave. Would you mind having him join me?”
---
(Harry’s POV)
Harry sat stiffly in the armchair across from Miriam, his hands clenched tight in his lap. She’d pulled out her neat legal pad, but her smile was soft, not sharp like a teacher’s. Still, it felt strange with Tony gone — like the room was too big without him.
“Thank you for sitting with me, Harry,” Miriam said gently. “This is just a chance for you and me to talk. Nobody’s in trouble. Do you understand?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah.”
“How are you liking school?”
Harry shrugged, eyes downcast. “It’s… okay. George and Lucy are nice.”
“That’s good,” Miriam said, her pen moving lightly across the page. “Do you feel safe there?”
A beat of hesitation, then a nod.
She smiled gently. “What about here? Do you feel safe living with Mr. Stark?”
That time the answer came quicker. “Yeah.” His fingers twisted harder in his jumper, but his voice was steady. “He… he doesn’t hurt me or yell. It’s… not like before.”
Miriam’s expression softened. “That’s very important. I’m glad you feel that way.” She hesitated before adding, “Harry, sometimes when children have been hurt, it helps to talk to a special grown-up — a therapist — whose job is to help make those bad memories hurt less. Do you think you’d ever like that?”
Harry’s throat closed up. The idea of telling a stranger about the cupboard, about Vernon—his stomach twisted. Harry shook his head quickly, almost violently. “No. I don’t want to.”
“That’s okay,” Miriam soothed. “You don’t have to. Can I ask why?”
His throat burned. He picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. “…Because I’ll just talk to Tony.” The words came out in a rush, like he had to defend himself. “He listens. He doesn’t get mad at me.”
Miriam nodded, writing again. “That’s good, Harry. Talking to Tony is very good. I want you to keep doing that. And if someday you change your mind, and you’d like to talk to someone else too, that choice will be yours.”
Harry glanced up, searching her face for judgment. He didn’t find any. Only calm. It made his shoulders loosen just enough to breathe easier.
Miriam rose and he slid off the couch. “Why don’t you go check on your project while I finish up with Mr. Stark?”
Harry nodded, already edging toward the lab.
---
(Tony’s POV)
Tony walked Miriam to the door, hands shoved deep in his pockets. She left with her usual calm, steady tone, but her words were still grinding in his head: therapy, tools, he needs more than you.
As soon as the door clicked shut, he muttered, “Yeah, thanks for the pep talk,” to no one in particular.
He leaned against the counter, scrubbing both hands over his face. Six weeks ago his biggest responsibility was keeping his liver intact long enough to give a keynote speech. Now he was apparently responsible for rewiring a traumatized kid’s brain.
And he was failing. Miriam didn’t say it outright, but he heard it in her gentle phrasing. You’re not enough.
He thought about Harry flinching the other night, the way his whole body coiled like Tony was about to backhand him. That image had lodged in his chest like shrapnel. What if it never went away? What if Stark Industries’ golden boy was just one more disaster waiting to happen in Harry’s life?
Tony pushed away from the counter. Brooding wasn’t fixing anything. He needed to talk to the kid - straight, no bullshit.
---
Harry was back in the lab, StarkPup’s parts spread out like battlefield wreckage. He was typing lines of code that JARVIS was dutifully belting out but looked up quickly when Tony came in, a hopeful flicker crossing his face.
Tony stopped nearby, forcing casual into his voice. “Hey, kiddo. Miriam says your teachers reported that you’re doing well at school. That true?”
Harry shrugged. “I guess.”
“Yeah? Well, I’ll take ‘I guess.’” Tony ruffled his hair before sitting down.
He hesitated, then pushed on. “She also thinks it might be good for you to… talk to someone. Y’know, professionally. Kid therapist. Whole nine yards.”
Harry froze. His knuckles whitened around the mouse. “No.”
“Harry—”
“No!” His voice cracked. “I don’t want to talk to some stranger. I don’t want to.”
Tony blew out a breath, patience fraying. “Yeah, well, you think I do? You think I like the idea of dragging you through all this crap again? I don’t. But I can’t exactly fix everything with duct tape and an arc reactor.”
Harry flinched at the sharpness in his tone. “So what—you don’t want to hear it anymore? You want me to bother someone else with it instead?”
Tony froze. “That’s not what I said.”
“You did!” Harry shot back, louder now, his voice trembling. “You said you can’t fix me. You said you’re not enough.”
Tony dragged a hand down his face, frustrated at himself as much as the argument. “Kid, that’s not—” He cut off, then snapped, “Dammit, Harry, I’m trying here! I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I don’t know how I got from shooting down Hammer drones to bedtime stories and nightmares I can’t fight.”
Harry’s throat closed, hurt spilling over into his words. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have taken me.”
That landed like a gut punch. Tony’s chest seized, anger and guilt colliding hard. For a second, he almost fired back—I didn’t ask for this either—but he bit it back so hard his teeth ached.
He took a breath, forced his voice low. “Listen to me. That’s not what I meant. Not even close. I don’t regret one second of this—you being here, me taking you in. Never. But I’m scared I’ll screw it up. You matter too damn much, and I don’t know if I’m good enough to carry that.”
Harry stared at him, eyes wide – Tony could practically hear his heart pounding. Slowly, he whispered, “Then don’t make me talk to them. Let me talk to you.”
Tony blinked. The anger bled out of him, leaving raw exhaustion behind. “You… want to talk to me?”
Harry nodded hard, like if he didn’t, Tony might vanish. “Just you.”
Tony scrubbed a hand through his hair, chest tight. He wanted to argue, to insist on therapy—but the way Harry looked at him, pleading, desperate, made the fight drain out.
“Alright,” Tony said finally, voice rough. “Then you talk to me. Deal. But you can’t clam up when it gets bad. I need to know, or I can’t protect you. Understand?”
Harry swallowed and nodded again.
Tony reached out, laid a steady hand on his shoulder. Not perfect. Not therapy. But for now, it was something. And maybe—maybe—it was enough to keep them both upright.
---
Dinner was unusually quiet. Happy had reheated something that smelled like lasagna, set it down with a half-hearted “don’t burn your tongues,” and retreated, clearly picking up on the tension in the room.
Harry picked at his food, pushing noodles into uneven stacks with his fork. Across from him, Tony did the same, more interested in shredding a slice of garlic bread into crumbs than actually eating.
Every so often, Tony glanced up, like he wanted to break the silence with a quip, but the words never made it out. Harry caught one of those looks, ducked his head, and shoved another bite in his mouth to avoid speaking.
“Not bad,” Tony said finally, forcing some cheer into his voice as he stabbed his fork at the pan. “Happy didn’t burn the sauce this time. That’s a win.”
Harry managed a nod, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah.”
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
---
Later, Harry padded out of the bathroom, hair damp, pajamas hanging loose. Tony was perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling idly on his phone, though the set of his shoulders was tight.
“Hop in,” Tony said lightly, dropping the phone on the nightstand.
Harry climbed under the covers, curling toward the StarkPup on his nightstand like the half-built robot could stand guard. The sheets rustled as Tony tugged them up around him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Harry whispered, “Are you mad at me?”
The question punched a hole straight through Tony’s chest. He let out a shaky breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before answering. “No, kiddo. Not mad at you. Mad at… the situation. At myself.”
Harry frowned, confused. “Why at yourself?”
“Because I screwed up,” Tony admitted, voice low. “Said things wrong, pushed when I shouldn’t. I don’t want you thinking for a second that I don’t want you here. Because I do. More than anything. I don’t quite understand how this whole thing came to be, but I know what I want, now.”
Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. Slowly, he whispered, “Even if I can’t talk to anyone else?”
Tony nodded firmly. “Even then. Especially then. You talk to me. That’s enough.”
Harry hesitated, then sat up and reached out, tugging at Tony’s sleeve until the man lay back against the headboard beside him. He rested his head tentatively on Tony’s shoulder.
Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, wrapping an arm around him gently. “You’re safe, Harry. Even if I trip over my own words sometimes, that part doesn’t change. Ever.”
Harry’s eyes fluttered closed, his small body still taut with leftover nerves, but the tension eased by degrees under Tony’s steady heartbeat.
On the nightstand, StarkPup blinked once, its crooked LED flickering like a tired eye. Lopsided, but still standing guard.
The air between them was still fragile, stretched thin by unspoken fears. But Tony stayed, and Harry leaned in, and he wouldn’t deny him this simple comfort.
Chapter 13: Chapter 13
Notes:
I was a mess writing chapter 15 - idk if y'all are ready.
Also, 7 chapters until the end of the first arc! Maybe... Probably.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Tony’s POV)
It was late by the time Tony dragged himself out of Harry’s room, his thoughts a storm that refused to quiet. He slumped into one of the lab’s wheeled chairs, spun lazily in a slow circle, and stared up at the ceiling like it might have answers. Spoiler: it didn’t.
It was too late to back out now. Too late to rewind the tape and stop himself from stepping into Harry’s life. Not that he wanted to—hell no. But the weight of it all sat heavy on his chest. He wasn’t just keeping the kid fed and clothed; he was expected to keep him… whole. Fix the cracks someone else had carved into him. Tony Stark, mechanic turned patchwork dad.
He’d known Harry came with baggage—every kid in foster care did. But he’d told himself it couldn’t be that bad. Seven years old. How much damage could possibly fit in seven years? He’d been wrong. Horribly, gut-punch wrong.
And the worst part? He cared. Actually cared. More than he thought he could, more than he felt he had any right to. That made it dangerous. Because Harry trusted him now—implicitly, blindly. One wrong move and Tony would shatter that trust like glass.
“What the fuck did you do, Stark?” he muttered, pressing his palms hard against his eyes. “You’re a mechanic, not a dad. There’s no manual for Harry. No arc reactor to keep him running. Just—” he gestured vaguely at the air, at nothing, “—faith. His faith. And I’ve never had anybody put that much in me before.”
“Sir,” JARVIS said gently, voice pitched like he knew the floor was cracking under Tony’s feet, “thus far, you have not failed him.”
“Yet,” Tony snapped, the word sharp, bitter on his tongue. “I haven’t failed him yet.” His fists tightened in his lap until the joints of his fingers creaked. He forced them open, dragging in a breath that scraped at his throat. “But let’s be real, J. It’s not if. It’s when.”
---
(Harry’s POV)
The sunlight spilling through the curtains pulled Harry awake. For a moment he stayed still, listening to the hum of the penthouse — the faint whoosh of air from the vents, the low clink of someone already in the kitchen. The old panic didn’t flare like it used to. No banging cupboard doors. No shouting. Just… quiet.
His eyes landed on StarkPup sitting lopsided on the nightstand, one leg bent awkwardly where he and Tony had left it. The little robot didn’t move, but it felt like a guard anyway. Harry reached out, brushing the cold metal with his fingers before sliding out of bed.
He padded into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Tony was leaning against the counter in pajama pants and a faded Black Sabbath tee, a mug of coffee steaming in his hand. His hair looked like he’d fought with it and lost.
“Morning, kiddo,” Tony said around a yawn, like it was the most normal thing in the world that Harry was just… there.
“Morning,” Harry mumbled, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. He hesitated, then added, “Can I have cereal?”
“Cereal, eggs, ice cream — take your pick. Happy’s got inventory running like we’re a grocery store.” Tony tipped his mug toward the pantry.
Harry poured himself a bowl, carefully not spilling, and slid onto a stool at the island. For a while, the only sound was the crunch of cereal and the occasional sip of Tony’s coffee. It was simple. Easy.
And maybe that was why Harry risked glancing up at him. “You didn’t go to bed last night,” he said softly.
Tony froze, looking guilty for just a beat, before recovering with a shrug. “Got stuck in the lab. You know how it is — wires, schematics, sudden bursts of genius. Time gets away from you.”
Harry nodded, pretending to buy it. But some part of him knew there was more. He didn’t push. Instead, he let the silence settle again, grounding himself in the strange comfort of Tony’s presence.
---
When Tony finally set his empty mug down, he clapped his hands once. “Alright, Chief Engineer Evans, finish up your cereal. StarkPup isn’t going to program himself.”
Harry quickly drank down his milk and hopped down from the stool, beginning to wipe his mouth on his sleeve before remembering the napkin Tony had pushed over earlier. He darted back to use it properly, earning a quick smirk from the man before they headed for the lab.
The familiar smell of metal and faint ozone wrapped around Harry the moment they stepped inside. Harry set his robot on the bench – it’s legs still crooked. His stomach fluttered at the sight. He didn’t think he’d ever been this excited about something he’d made, and not just borrowed from the library or scribbled on paper.
Tony rolled his chair over, gesturing with a lazy flick of his hand. “Alright, what’s the next move? Do we patch up Leg Number Three, or do we code in something cooler—like auto-bark when Happy starts groaning?”
Harry stifled a grin. “The leg first. Otherwise it’ll fall over.”
“Fiiiine. Practical. Boring, but practical.” Tony tossed him a tiny screwdriver, which Harry caught awkwardly against his chest before setting to work. His hands still shook sometimes when he messed with wires, but Tony never snapped, never sighed like people usually did when he was too slow.
Instead, Tony watched, leaning his chin on his hand. “Y’know, for someone who swore he’d never be able to make anything, you’re not half bad at this.”
Harry’s ears went hot. “I just… like it in here. It feels… safe.”
Something flickered over Tony’s face then—so quick Harry nearly missed it. His mouth tightened, his eyes dropping to the bench. “Yeah, well. Safe’s the whole point. If the outside world wants chaos, they can keep it. This is our turf.”
Harry pressed the joint into place on StarkPup, carefully twisting the screw until it was snug. He felt lighter hearing that.
“Okay,” Tony said briskly, as if snapping himself out of whatever thought had caught him. “Moment of truth—try it.”
Harry hit the key sequence he and JARVIS had written last night. StarkPup jerked, wobbled—and then walked. Awkward, halting steps, but steps nonetheless.
Harry gasped, grinning wide. “It’s working!”
Tony shot both hands into the air like a referee calling a touchdown. “And the crowd goes wild! Stark Industries presents: the world’s first half-toaster, half-terrier prototype!”
Harry laughed as StarkPup made a sound somewhere between a bark and a hiccup.
For the rest of the morning, they tinkered—Tony throwing out increasingly ridiculous ideas (jet boosters, laser eyes, coffee dispenser), Harry countering with practical ones (balance sensors, better code for turning). Piece by piece, StarkPup became less of a pile of parts and more of a little creature.
They weren’t just passing the time. He was building something. Something with Tony. Something his.
---
They’d been at it for hours, adding and removing features, and now they were debugging the walking code. StarkPup kept randomly lurching to the left, spinning in uneven circles instead of walking straight.
Harry typed the line Tony suggested, but his fingers froze before hitting enter. “Are you sure it won’t… break something else?” he asked, voice small.
Tony groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Kid, if it breaks, we fix it. That’s the whole point. Just—hit enter already," he snapped.
Harry flinched, shoulders jerking. His hand hovered over the keyboard like it weighed a ton.
Tony moved almost instantly.
He knelt beside Harry’s chair, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry - that was uncalled for, okay? That was me being cranky. You’re doing great. Seriously.”
Harry risked a glance at him, uncertain, but Tony forced a smile and gave a quick nod toward the keyboard. This time, Harry pressed the key. StarkPup wobbled forward, three awkward steps in a row before tipping sideways on its crooked legs.
Harry gasped, half laughing. “It’s walking!”
Tony let out a long breath, clapping a hand gently on the boy’s back. “Yeah. It is.”
But when Harry turned back to adjust the code again, Tony leaned against the bench, head tipping back. His chest still felt tight, the image of Harry’s flinch seared into him.
---
(Tony’s POV)
Harry’s footsteps padded toward the stairs, his small voice drifting back. “JARVIS, make sure Tony comes down soon or Happy’ll eat all the fries.”
“Noted,” JARVIS replied. The door slid shut behind him, leaving the lab quiet.
Tony pulled out his phone, thumb hovering. He didn’t want Pepper’s judgment, or Happy’s grunts. He needed someone who knew him better than he knew himself. He tapped Rhodey’s contact.
The line picked up in two rings. “Tony! You’re not calling because you blew up another conference room, are you?”
Tony let out a sharp laugh. “Not this time. It’s… about the kid.”
Instant shift in Rhodey’s tone. “Alright. Go.”
Tony slumped in his chair, spinning half a circle before stopping himself with a heel drag. “I think I’m screwing up. I snapped at him. Just a little, but he looked at me like—” His voice broke, raw. “Like he thought I was gonna hit him. Do you know what that does to you, Rhodey? Having a kid look at you like you’re the monster under the bed?”
“Yeah,” Rhodey said softly. “It guts you.”
Tony’s words tumbled faster. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. That it’d be temporary? Instead I’ve got this kid who—hell, he trusts me, Ro. He trusts me more than anyone. He tells me things no one else knows, curls up next to me after nightmares like I’m—” He stopped, dragging a hand over his face. “Like I’m his dad.”
Rhodey stayed quiet, letting that word hang there until Tony filled the silence himself.
“And I care about him, Ro. Too much. More than I thought I would. Which means when I screw up—and I will—I’m gonna wreck him. I can rebuild armor, patch reactors, redesign weapons. But family? I don’t do family. And somehow, somewhere, I let this kid turn me into his family.”
There was a long beat. Then Rhodey said, voice firm: “Tony, you are his family. You don’t have to like how it happened, or when it happened, but it did. And the only reason you’re panicking right now is because you actually give a damn. That’s what makes you enough.”
Tony laughed bitterly. “Doesn’t mean I won’t break him.”
“No,” Rhodey admitted. “You’ll screw up. You’ll say something wrong, lose your temper, miss a signal. But here’s the difference: you’ll fix it. You’ll keep showing up. That’s what dads do. That’s what family is.”
For a long moment, Tony just listened to the quiet hum of the line, breathing slow.
“God, I hate when you’re right,” he muttered finally.
“You love it,” Rhodey shot back, then softened. “Go eat lunch with your kid. And next time you spin out, call me before you decide you’re the world’s worst dad.”
Tony ended the call and stared at the prototype again. One bent joint, undoubtedly missing screws, but still standing.
“Family,” he muttered. The word felt foreign on his tongue. Heavy. Real.
He shoved to his feet. “Alright. Lunch first. Then we finish this thing.”
---
By the time Tony dragged himself down to the kitchen, the smell of fries had already claimed the air. Happy was at the counter dishing out burgers like a diner cook, with Harry perched on a stool beside him, burger in one hand, other wrapped around a glass of juice.
Tony hesitated in the doorway for a second longer than he meant to, letting the sight sink in. Harry casually eating – Happy guarding the fries like they were mission critical.
It felt… domestic. Too domestic for a guy who’d spent the morning convincing himself he wasn’t dad material.
“Hey,” Tony said, walking in like he hadn’t just been having a minor identity crisis upstairs. “You two start the feast without me?
Harry looked up, chewing mid-bite. He shook his head quickly. “No, Happy was just—uh—making sure it wasn’t getting cold.”
“Sure,” Tony said dryly, sliding into the stool next to him. He snagged a fry off Harry’s plate, ignoring the indignant look it earned him. “Quality control.”
Happy just snorted and shoved a plate Tony’s way. “Eat before I decide you’re too skinny to be lecturing me about security protocols.”
Tony smirked, but his attention drifted back to Harry. The kid’s shoulders were loose, not hunched, and he wasn’t picking at his food — he was actually eating. That was something.
“You know,” Tony said, aiming for casual but not quite pulling it off, “as soon as we’re done here, I say we finish StarkPup – for real. Can’t leave the little guy half-crippled on the bench. It’s bad for robot morale.”
Harry blinked, then grinned, ketchup smudging the corner of his mouth. “Really? You’re not too tired?”
“Please, one sleepless night is nothing,” Tony confirmed, nudging his plate toward him. “Fuel up. We’ve got a patient on the table.”
Harry giggled—an honest, unguarded sound that hit Tony square in the chest. He hid the squeeze in his throat by biting into his burger.
Yeah. Family. No matter how terrified he was of screwing it up, that’s what this was turning into.
---
(Harry’s POV)
The final screw clicked into place with a quiet snick. Harry sat back on his stool, screwdriver still in hand, staring down at the little robot sprawled across the bench. It didn’t look like a pile of scrap anymore. Four straight legs, a head with rounded metal ears, a body that actually held itself together. StarkPup.
Tony leaned over his shoulder, breath warm against his ear. “Moment of truth, Chief Engineer. Ready to see if our patient walks?”
Harry’s heart thudded hard, and he couldn’t stop himself from asking the same questions. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“Then we fix it,” Tony said simply. “You know the deal. We break it, we fix it, we try again. No explosions required… probably.”
Harry’s lips twitched. He swallowed, set the screwdriver aside, and reached for the keyboard. His fingers hovered over the keys, trembling slightly. Then he tapped out the start-up sequence.
For a heartbeat, nothing. Then StarkPup twitched, legs jerking. With a smooth mechanical shuffle, it wobbled to its feet, then promptly ran to the end of the table, stopping just before the edge, a move that would have sent it toppling days ago.
Harry gasped, then laughed—loud and unrestrained. He clapped his hands, bouncing in his seat. “It worked! Tony, it worked!”
Tony whooped, throwing both arms up like he’d just won a Super Bowl. “And the crowd goes wild! Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the Stark Industries line of robotic pets—guaranteed housebroken!”
StarkPup staggered backward a few steps, barked, and then plopped back on its haunches with a clatter. Harry scooped it up, hugging the cool metal close like it was alive. His face ached from smiling, but he didn’t care.
“Best. Dog. Ever,” he declared.
Tony smirked, though something flickered in his eyes—soft, almost vulnerable. “Don’t ever tell Dum-E I said this, but… yeah. We make a good team.”
Harry ducked his head, heat rising in his cheeks. He wasn’t used to people saying we like that. Like he was part of something. Like family.
Tony cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, we should probably let StarkPup recharge before he stages a revolt. C’mon, let’s get some dinner before Happy starts yelling about his kitchen schedule.”
Harry reluctantly set the little robot back on the bench. But the glow in his chest stayed, warm and steady. StarkPup wasn’t just a project. It was proof. Proof that he and Tony had built something together—something that worked, something that lasted.
Harry was starting to let himself believe maybe he could last here, too.
---
(Tony’s POV)
Tony watched Harry cradle the half-metal mutt like it was worth more than every arc reactor he’d ever built. The kid’s face was lit up, open, free in a way Tony hadn’t seen before. And for one wild second, Tony thought—maybe I won’t screw him up. Maybe I can give him something real. The thought scared him almost as much as it comforted him. Because if Harry kept looking at him like that, like Tony Stark was more than just a mechanic with too much scrap and too many bad ideas… then there was no way out.
Notes:
Some chapters skip forward weeks at a time (real life feels like that sometimes, too >.<)
If anyone needs timeline clarity or anything, lmk! I'm sure y'all are locked in, though :)
Thanks, as always, for the feedback.
Chapter 14: Chapter 14
Chapter Text
(Harry’s POV)
It was steadily rolling toward the end of May, and Harry had spent the past few weeks trying to build up the courage to this moment. He knew he didn’t need to worry, that even if Tony rejected him, it was fine. It wasn’t that big a of deal, honestly.
Still, he fidgeted with a copper tape roll, peeling up a corner and sticking it back down against the table just to keep his hands busy. StarkPup watched from the counter, its crooked ears catching the light.
Tony finally looked up from the arc reactor schematic spread across the lab table. “That roll’s gonna be bald by the time you finish mutilating it. What’s up, kiddo?”
Harry bit the inside of his cheek, then blurted, “School’s doing an art and science night. Like an open house. Next Thursday.” He ducked his head quickly, as if saying it fast might make it less embarrassing. “I… made something. For it.”
Tony pushed the schematic aside like it was nothing, giving him his full attention. “Yeah? Gimme the pitch. Is this ‘something’ going to explode? Because that’s usually my brand.”
Harry’s lips twitched. “It doesn’t explode. It lights up. You helped me write the instructions for it - the constellations? Orion’s belt, really. With copper tape and LEDs. I soldered them myself.” He hesitated, then added, “You don’t… have to come. Teachers said parents could, but—”
“Whoa, whoa, time-out.” Tony set his coffee down, sliding the mug out of StarkPup’s line of sight like the robot might steal it. “Are you actually giving me an out here? Kid, I sit through quarterly shareholders’ meetings where sixty-year-olds yell at me about dividend margins. Compared to that? Watching you light up Orion’s belt sounds like the Met Gala.”
Harry blinked at him, the corners of his mouth threatening to lift. “So… you’ll come?”
“Got that in the calendar, J?” Tony asked.
“Indeed, sir,” JARVIS replied.
“Done. I’m there, kid,” Tony said easily.
Harry nodded quickly, trying to look casual, but his stomach fluttered in a way he didn’t want Tony to notice. It wasn’t just about the project. It was about someone showing up.
---
(Tony’s POV)
Tony had promised himself he’d keep it low-profile: no suit, no entourage, no smile that said yes, I invented half the things in your life. He kept the jacket, ditched the tie, and turned up five minutes early anyway.
There were parents everywhere. Some noticed him and pointed, whispering as he passed, but he was here for one thing, and one thing only.
Chloe clocked him the second he stepped into reception. “Mr. Stark—good evening.” She sounded like she’d practiced not being starstruck in the mirror and almost nailed it.
“Evening,” Tony said, softer than the lobby deserved. “Here for Harry Evans. Year Two. Art and Science night.”
“Of course.” Chloe’s smile warmed. “Mrs. Williams’ classroom, end of the corridor to the left.”
“Thanks, Chloe.”
The corridor smelled like poster paint and glue sticks. Parents bunched in clusters, talking in a polite hum. Tony took the long route, pausing to admire lopsided solar systems and cardboard dinosaurs, because he knew eyes were on him and he wanted the message clear: he’s here to look, not to be looked at.
He was about to enter the classroom when he was stopped by someone.
“Ah, Mr. Stark, how nice to finally meet you. I’m Harry’s teacher – Mrs. Williams,” the woman introduced herself, lightly shaking his hand.
“And I finally get to see a face behind the name I’ve heard almost as much as ‘George’ and ‘Lucy’,” Tony replied.
Mrs. Williams smiled. “Those three are inseparable, I’m telling you. I had a feeling when Harry came to our class that they would get along well. I’m glad to see I still know a thing or two.”
Tony grinned back at her. “I appreciate you making him feel so welcome. I was more worried about him starting so late in the year than I’d like to admit – but the transition has been pretty seamless.”
She nodded, then waved her hand toward the classroom. “It’s been our pleasure, Mr. Stark. Please, continue to have a look around. I’m just making my rounds before people start ducking out.”
He found Harry in the classroom at a table under a dark pin-board sky: black card studded with copper tape, a tiny coin cell, and three pinpoint LEDs winking like stubborn winter stars. A handwritten booklet sat beside it: My Favorite Constellations.
Harry’s shoulders were up by his ears—until he saw Tony – and then his face lit up.
“There he is,” Tony said with an easy grin, hands in his pockets like arriving at some fancy gala wasn’t his day job. “Chief Engineer. This yours?”
Harry nodded, his face tipping into shy pride. “You press here.” He tapped a tiny copper pad; the LEDs blinked to life—Orion’s belt in three steady dots.
Tony whistled, low. “Look at that. Clean solder job. Good switch logic.” He kept his voice just loud enough that Mrs. Williams, a step away, would hear he was bragging on Harry, not Tony Stark.
Mrs. Williams drifted back toward him, smiling. “He worked very hard on it.”
“I can tell,” Tony said. “We’re framing that booklet for the fridge.”
Something unclenched in Harry’s shoulders. The last bit of anxiety. Tony filed it away with all the other little proofs they were building.
George popped up on Harry’s far side, Lucy on the other, both chattering about whose volcano blew up the tablecloth at lunch (George’s) and how Lucy’s poster had glitter in “safe quantities.” Tony listened, nodding solemnly at “safe quantities,” and pretended not to notice the pair of boys near the door cutting glances like tiny knives.
He noticed but said nothing.
---
(Harry’s POV)
Harry kept his fingers flat on the table so he wouldn’t fidget. The lights came on when he pressed the copper pad, and the predictability gave him a little thrill every time.
Lucy grinned when she first saw it, and George said it was “ace.” Their voices wrapped around him like warmth, but it slipped away the moment he caught the whisper from the doorway.
“Charity case.” That was Ben.
Heat flushed up Harry’s neck, hot enough that his ears burned. He didn’t dare look up. His stomach turned to stone, heavy and cold, even as his skin prickled hot all over. George went quiet beside him.
Then Oliver’s voice, smooth and smug. “Bet his dad built it.” He stretched the word like taffy, so it didn’t mean dad at all—just a twist of something ugly.
Harry stared harder at Orion. The copper tape gleamed faintly under the classroom lights. Battery, switch, resistor, LEDs—steps Tony had made him read twice before building. He whispered the order in his head like a spell. Battery, switch, resistor, LEDs. If he thought about that, maybe the burning in his cheeks would stop.
It didn’t. His breath snagged, shallow, and his chest felt too tight for the air.
Then—warmth. A hand on the back of his neck. Not pushing, not yanking. Just there. Familiar.
Tony.
Harry’s shoulders dropped a fraction, his eyes stinging.
“Would you show me how you placed that resistor again?” Tony asked casually, like he hadn’t heard a thing, like the whole world was only the circuit in front of them.
Harry swallowed hard and nodded. He could do that. He could press down the tape, say words about current and LEDs, and pretend the whispers were just air.
---
((Mixed POV))
The bottleneck at the front doors made everything feel louder. Parents laughed too brightly; coats rustled; someone’s perfume caught in Harry’s throat.
He had his backpack straps in both hands— the bands tight around his shoulders, like Tony taught him—when a tug yanked him off-balance, sending him to the floor.
“Oops,” Oliver said, not sorry at all, his fist still twisted in Harry’s strap.
The world pinholed. Harry’s hands went hot. His mouth filled with the taste of metal, his vision tinging with red.
Not here. Not now. Don’t.
Air pressed down around them like a fist. The corridor noticeboard smacked against the wall with a bang, a staccato ripple of thumbtacks raining to the floor. The framed sports photo beside it spider-webbed from a single sharp crack—no shatter, just that white flower of broken glass blooming in the corner.
Every sound in the hall ceased.
Tony was moving before the silence had time to break.
He stepped between Harry and Oliver without touching either one, voice pitched for adults and kids. “Hey—easy, easy. That board’s been a menace all night—saw it wobbling on the way in.” He angled his shoulder, blocking Harry from view. “Jank anchor points,” he added, because throwing a little jargon in the air sometimes helped adults decide they’d mis-seen the moment.
Luke Davies appeared from nowhere like a calm storm. “Everyone alright?”
“Bit of a hardware failure from your noticeboard,” Tony said, dry. “We’re okay.”
Oliver had gone pale. Ben hovered, sorry finally creeping into his eyes now that a grown-up was looking at him.
Harry couldn’t make his lungs work. He stared up at the crack blooming in the glass—like the surface of a lake after a stone broke the surface—and thought, wildly, I did that. I didn’t mean to.
Tony’s hand found his shoulder. “With me,” he murmured, not a question.
Harry nodded once, shaky, and let Tony pull him to his feet.
Luke took in the scene, then inclined his head. “Let’s give the corridor some breathing room. Mr. Stark, would you step into my office for a brief word?”
“Of course,” Tony said. He didn’t take his hand off Harry’s shoulder until the door shut behind them.
---
(Tony’s POV)
Luke folded his hands on the desk, the picture of ease. “No one was hurt. That’s the priority.”
“Agreed,” Tony said. He kept his tone level, steady, the way he did when he wanted a room to remember he wasn’t just the loudest voice—just the one who would get things done. “If that board’s loose, you’ll want maintenance on it before morning. And the glass—safety film did its job; it’ll hold, but better it’s taped off.”
Luke’s gaze flicked to Harry, tucked half behind Tony’s arm. “Harry, are you alright?”
Harry nodded, eyes down. The nod didn’t convince anyone.
Tony didn’t look away from Luke. “We had some… commentary in the hall before the jostling started. Kids being kids, but their words are still sharp. I’ll handle my end at home. I’d appreciate you handling yours.”
“Names?” Luke asked, bland but not blind.
Tony let a beat pass. “You know your students,” he said.
A corner of Luke’s mouth twitched. “I do.”
“Good,” Tony said. “And look—I’d like to arrange a different drop-off and pick-up for a bit. Fewer crowds, fewer pinch points. I can coordinate with Chloe.”
“Done,” Luke said. He rose, signaling the meeting was over in the gentlest way possible. “Thank you for coming tonight, Mr. Stark.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Tony answered, and meant it.
He steered Harry out, not pushing, just a steady presence at his back.
---
(Harry’s POV)
The car door shut and the world went soft again. Harry pressed his forehead to the cool window, breath fogging a small circle in the glass.
“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered. “I didn’t—Tony, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Tony said. No questions. No what did you do. Just that.
Harry turned, wary. “You… do?”
Tony’s eyes met his in the dim. “I know what panic feels like when there are too many people and not enough exits,” he said simply. “We’ll figure the rest out together. No one got hurt. That’s our baseline.”
Harry’s throat worked around a hard swallow. “Are you mad?”
“Not at you,” Tony said. “At the comments. At the boy who put his hands on you. Maybe a little at the noticeboard installer who needs a stern conversation about anchor points.” A breath, then softer: “And at the universe for asking you to hold more than a kid should have to.”
Harry stared at him for a long second, then nodded once, small. The knot behind his ribs loosened a fraction.
Outside, the world blurred past. Inside, Tony sat angled toward him like he had all night.
“I was serious about this going on the fridge, by the way. I saw you try to leave it behind,” Tony said lightly, pulling the handwritten My Favorite Constellations book out of his pocket.
Harry looked at the book, up at Tony, who was smiling softly.
“Thanks, Tony,” Harry said, his eyes stinging.
---
((Mixed POV))
The penthouse was quiet when they came in. The lights were on low in the living room, the soft glow making the whole place feel less like a skyscraper and more like… home.
Harry toed off his shoes next to the elevator without being asked. He didn’t say anything—just trudged to the couch and folded himself into the corner like he wanted to disappear. StarkPup’s half-finished spare parts still lay on the coffee table where he’d dumped them before school.
Happy set his keys down and disappeared down the hall without a word. He didn’t need words—he always knew when there was a situation.
Tony shrugged out of his jacket and stood there for a moment, debating whether to push or to let it breathe. Then he crossed the room and plopped onto the seat next to Harry, not too close, just… there.
He picked up StarkPup’s ear piece, twirling it in his fingers. “Looks like the patient’s been neglected,” he said lightly.
Harry peeked up from under his fringe. “He still works.”
“Yeah, but tonight was rough. Everybody deserves a tune-up after a rough night.” Tony leaned forward, snapped the ear back into place, and set the little robot on the bit of cushion between them. StarkPup wobbled on the uneven surface, then barked its ridiculous tinny bark.
The sound tugged a smile out of Harry despite the weight on his chest. He reached out and stroked the cool metal.
For a while they just sat there—Tony slouched against the armrest, Harry moving closer and closer until his side brushed Tony’s.
“You know what I was thinking?” Tony said at last, his voice low, almost like he didn’t want to spook the calm. “We should put that constellation board of yours on the fridge, too. Right next to StarkPup’s test schematics. World’s most important gallery.”
Harry blinked at him, startled. “On the fridge? It would barely fit.”
“Okay, above the fridge. Kitchen’s where all the great art lives. Or maybe you’d rather put it in the lab, next to my Nobel Peace Prize. Show people which one’s actually cooler.”
Harry’s laugh was small, but it was real. He tucked his knees up under his chin and whispered, “It’s not fake.”
Tony frowned. “What isn’t?”
“My project. I did it.”
Tony took StarkPup, gently set it on the table, and turned fully toward him. “Harry. Hey. Look at me.”
Harry lifted his eyes slowly.
“You did it. Start to finish. The tape, the solder, the whole thing. I was just the annoying guy making you repeat instructions and stealing your snacks. That board lit up tonight because you made it light up. And if some punk couldn’t handle that?” Tony’s voice sharpened for a beat, then steadied. “That’s on them. Not on you.”
Harry swallowed hard. His throat hurt, but the words landed somewhere steady.
Tony leaned back again, casual as ever, though his eyes hadn’t softened one bit. “Now - since we’ve established you’re officially smarter than at least half the people in the room we were in tonight - I’m letting you know that I’m calling dibs on the leftover pasta in the fridge. Genuis fuel.”
Harry let his head tip against Tony’s shoulder. “We can share.”
Tony snorted, nudging his hair. “Fine, fine. But I’m getting the bigger portion.”
Harry laughed softly. “You always take the bigger portion.”
StarkPup barked again from the table, tinny and loyal, like it agreed.
Harry sighed, letting the last dregs of the tension from the confrontation in the hallway melt away.
It felt good to be home.
Chapter 15: Chapter 15
Notes:
TW: Explicit references to CSA and child abuse. If you want to skip that section, avoid the second switch to Harry's POV. (I'll put a little **)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Harry POV)
It was a late morning in early June, and Happy had dropped them off at a park, far away from the penthouse, where they were hoping to go unnoticed and get some quality time outside. The weather was beautiful and families of all sizes were strolling around, some lounging in the soft grass, others starting impromptu games of football.
Harry was a little on edge being around so many people, but when he’d slid his hand into Tony’s, and the man had simply gripped back, it made most of the feelings of danger quiet down.
They’d been walking around the circular pond in the middle of the park for almost thirty minutes, not saying much, just enjoying the fresh air, when Tony spoke up.
“So, I was thinking maybe we get some lunch, maybe even some ice cream, then hit the mall for a couple hours? I’ve been itching to spend some of the Stark fortune on something we definitely don’t need,” Tony suggested idly.
Harry looked up at him and nodded. “Sure, Tony. I’m kinda hungry.”
He’d begun to trust that Tony meant it when he said he could eat whenever he wanted. He’d seen it in his head a few times – the truth behind his words – but not vocalizing when he was hungry was a hard habit for Harry to break.
“What sounds good?” Tony asked.
Harry swallowed, shoving his sudden uncertainty down. “Uhm… a cheeseburger?”
“Kid, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say we were related,” Tony said, grinning. “Cheeseburgers it is.”
---
Tony had paused at the gates of the park, quickly tapping out a message to Happy, with their plans to head down the street to the mall.
“Your birthday is like, right around the corner,” Tony said as they began walking. “Any idea what you want?”
Harry shrugged, his hand tightening around Tony’s as they continued to squeeze past and around people. “I dunno… you’ve already given me so much.”
Tony snorted. “C’mon, surely you’ve got something in mind? Another bookcase? You’ve pretty much got the beginnings of a library going – we could go all out.”
There was one thing he wanted – more than anything in the world. He wanted Tony to never leave – for Tony to want him, to say he wanted him. Harry knew he was broken, that his brain didn’t work right, but he also knew without a doubt that he loved Tony and trusted the man not to hurt him, but… Tony was scared of doing just that; he’d said as much.
So, instead of asking for what he wanted, Harry resigned himself to waiting until Tony eventually got tired of trying to fix him, of his problems becoming too much for the man, and stamped down on the surge of negative feelings that cropped up – again - when he imagined getting sent back to the children’s home.
He'd just finished that thought as they turned onto the high street, the mall’s glass front gleaming a block ahead, when Harry’s stomach dropped.
A man was leaning against the newsstand near the corner, broad shoulders hunched, thick mustache shadowing his mouth. He laughed at something the vendor said, loud and sharp, and the sound punched the air out of Harry’s chest.
Uncle Vernon.
It couldn’t be—but it was. Harry’s pulse skittered, vision tunneling, everything too loud and too close at once. His hand went clammy in Tony’s, and he yanked free without thinking, pressing back against the wall like it might swallow him whole.
His throat closed up.
Not here. Not now. Don’t let him see.
The man turned his head, just enough to show a profile Harry knew too well. Harry’s breath came shallow and ragged. The high street spun—faces in the crowd blurring, chatter warping into a low roar in his ears.
He found me. He found me.
“Harry?” Tony’s voice cut through, sharper than usual, grounding. A hand hovered near his arm—not grabbing, just there.
Harry flinched anyway, curling in on himself. “Don’t—please don’t—”
“Hey, hey.” Tony crouched right in front of him, ignoring the people stepping wide to skirt them. He angled himself so Harry only saw him, blocking out the street. “Look at me, kiddo. Just me. You’re okay.”
Harry’s chest heaved. “It’s him—my uncle - I saw—”
“No,” Tony said firmly, not unkind. “I saw who you saw. And it wasn’t him. Some guy buying the paper, that’s all. I promise.”
Harry’s eyes darted past his shoulder, desperate, and found the man again—already walking away, the profile different now, not Vernon at all. His legs wobbled like he’d been hit.
Tony’s hand finally settled on his shoulder, warm, steady. “Breathe with me. In and out. That’s the only mission right now.”
Harry tried. The first inhale hitched, painful. The exhale shook, barely controlled. But Tony matched him, exaggerated, loud enough for Harry to follow. In. Out. In. Out.
Slowly, the buzzing in his ears dulled. His knees still knocked together, but his chest stopped clawing for air.
“Good,” Tony murmured, squeezing once. “See? You’re here with me. No one else.”
Harry blinked hard, tears blurring their surroundings. “I’m sorry.”
“None of that,” Tony said, quick and sharp. “Don’t apologize for a scare. Panic doesn’t mean you did something wrong—it just means your brain pulled a fire alarm. We just reset it. That’s all.”
Harry pressed the back of his hand to his eyes, wishing he could vanish, and Tony allowed him a few moments to recover.
Eventually they rose, and Tony tilted his head toward the side street. “C’mon. There’s a back way into the mall. Quieter. Then burgers and ice cream. Sound good?”
Harry nodded weakly.
Tony slid his sunglasses back on like nothing had happened, as if they weren’t retreating from a battlefield only Harry could see. But his hand found Harry’s again, firm and certain.
Harry gripped back tightly, wondering for the millionth time when Tony would get sick of dealing with him - wondering when there would be no hand to hold again.
---
(Tony’s POV)
The ride back to the penthouse had been silent, thick and suffocating. Tony practically had to coax every bite of food into Harry, and shopping had been a lost cause from the moment the kid’s face went white on that sidewalk. He knew exactly who Harry thought he’d seen – the man had caused Tony to do a double take, and he’d only ever seen photographs.
Now, back in the penthouse, the silence pressed down harder. StarkPup sat inert on the table. Harry sat beside Tony on the couch, pressed close and with his head resting on the man’s chest.
The mask was back—the one Harry had been wearing less and less. The too-careful politeness, the blankness stretched over fear like tissue paper. It cut deeper than Tony expected, because it meant losing the small, spontaneous smiles they’d fought so hard to find.
And that’s when the thought hit—again, harder this time. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if I’m making it worse by not asking. By letting him keep all of it buried.
He could read the signs of PTSD clear as day: hypervigilance, regression, nightmares, now clinginess turned survival mechanism. Tony Stark, king of improvisation, was out of his depth.
He rubbed a hand over his face. What if asking just drags it out of him before he’s ready? What if not asking tells him I don’t care? Both options felt like failure.
Tony looked down at the boy curled against him, the faint weight of Harry’s chest rising and falling pressing in to him. He thought about Miriam’s calm certainty and Rhodey’s blunt insistence that showing up was what mattered.
Maybe that was the line. Not dragging answers out. Just making the offer, every time, until one day Harry took it.
Tony’s chest tightened. He lowered his voice, pitched it like a private truth:
“Hey, kiddo. You don’t have to tell me tonight, or tomorrow, or ever if you don’t want. But if you ever feel like you’re carrying something too heavy… you can hand me some of it. I’ll take it. All of it. You just gotta talk to me.”
Harry didn’t answer. But his small hand curled into Tony’s shirt and he held on as silent tremors began to rock through him.
That, Tony decided, was an answer all its own.
---
Dinner was quiet.
Happy had reheated leftover pasta and veggies, plating it up with the kind of silent efficiency Tony appreciated. Tonight, though, every scrape of fork on ceramic felt too loud against the hush hanging over the table.
Harry sat across from Tony, shoulders drawn in, his fork barely nudging pasta from one side of the plate to the other. He’d taken exactly two bites. Maybe three. The mask was still in place — cold, blank, unbreakable — and it drove Tony out of his mind.
“Not hungry?” Tony asked lightly, spearing a noodle like he wasn’t watching Harry’s every micro-expression.
Harry’s head ducked. “I’m fine.” The words were stiff, exactly the kind of thing that said not fine.
Tony forced a shrug. “Well, more for me.” He shoveled another forkful into his mouth, pretending casual. Pretending he wasn’t keeping track of the exact number of times Harry’s fork scraped the plate without actually capturing food.
Minutes ticked by. Happy excused himself, muttering something about dishes, and left the two of them in the room’s warm lamplight.
Harry pushed his chair back suddenly. The legs squeaked against the floor.
“I’m tired,” he mumbled, eyes fixed on the table instead of Tony. “Can I… go lie down?”
Tony wanted to stop him – wanted to press. But the look in Harry’s eyes — brittle, fraying — told him one wrong word might shatter everything.
“Yeah, kid,” Tony said quietly, setting his fork down. “Go on.”
Harry padded off up the stairs, small footsteps fading until the soft click of his bedroom door could be heard in the too still penthouse.
Tony leaned back in his chair, staring at the abandoned plate across from him. His stomach twisted. He wasn’t sure if he was more angry at himself for not pushing more, or for even considering it.
One thing was clear, though: something was coming. The silence was too thick not to break.
---
(*Harry’s POV*)
“If you ever feel like you’re carrying something too heavy… you can hand me some of it. I’ll take it. All of it. You just gotta talk to me.”
Tony didn’t know how much Harry wanted to — how much the words pressed against his throat, desperate to spill out. How badly he wanted to scream and cry and finally break. But he was sure it would be too much for Tony. Too ugly. Too heavy.
He lay in bed a long time, tossing those words around his head, fighting himself.
Tony had shown him, over and over, that he could be trusted. That he wanted Harry to trust him. The more he thought about it, the more the scary words burned inside him, demanding to be spoken. If he told, it would be over one way or another: Tony would either stay and everything would be okay again… or he’d decide Harry was too much and send him back.
“JARVIS?” Harry whispered, before he could stop himself.
“Yes, sir?”
“Is Tony still awake?”
“Indeed. Mr. Stark is currently in the living room.”
Harry swallowed hard and slipped out of bed. His bare feet were soundless against the hall floor. He expected to find Tony half-watching the news, or playing on his phone, but instead he was just sitting there, staring into the distance, lost in thought.
Harry hovered by the light switches, nerves buzzing under his skin. He didn’t want to see Tony’s face when he told him.
“Tony?” he asked timidly.
Tony’s head snapped around, surprise flashing across his face before it softened. “Harry? You okay, bud?”
“I… I want to tell you something. But… can I turn the lights off first?”
Tony didn’t hesitate. “Sure, kid.”
Harry clicked the lights off, throwing the room into almost total darkness, broken only by thin slivers of city light slipping through the curtains. Harry padded over and dropped onto the couch beside him. The words, so eager to come out moments ago, now seemed frozen in his throat.
Tony’s hand settling on his neck made him jump, but he relaxed almost immediately.
“What’s on your mind, Harry?” Tony asked softly.
Tears burned instantly, blurring his vision, and he finally found his courage.
“M-my uncle… he used to hurt me. Not like my aunt – s-she would burn me, or hit me with pans, b-but Uncle V-Vernon…” Harry stumbled out, taking a shaky breath as tears began flowing freely, “he was so much worse.” He whispered.
Tony’s hand had tightened on the back of his neck, but he said nothing.
“H-he would wait for Aunt Petunia to leave, and f-force me upstairs, into their bed.” He said, shivering now. “He’d hit me so h-hard I-I couldn’t breathe, and t-then… S-sometimes h-he would just put his… his t-thing in my m-mouth, but… sometimes, i-it was… my bum,’ he whispered, shame burning through him, his tears hot against his face. “He s-said if I t-told anyone, he would k-kill me. I t-tried to run so m-many times, b-but it just m-made it worse.”
A sob ripped through him, and he stopped, unable to say anymore. It hurt too much.
“Harry, can I give you a hug?” Tony asked after a beat, voice thick with something Harry couldn’t name.
Harry nodded hard and threw himself into the man’s arms, clinging as the sobs came harder, ragged and raw.
“I’m so sorry, kid,” Tony murmured, rubbing steady circles between his shoulders. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Time lost meaning as Harry cried himself empty against him. Tony didn’t let go. Didn’t rush him. Just kept repeating those quiet words until Harry’s sobs softened into hiccups and broken breaths.
When Harry finally looked up, Tony’s eyes shone in the faint light, unwavering.
“I can’t imagine how hard that was to share,” Tony said, voice achingly soft. “But thank you for trusting me with it. You’re safe now. And he’ll never touch you again. Not ever.”
---
(Tony’s POV)
Harry’s ragged gasps eventually ebbed into hiccups, then into soft, uneven breaths. At some point, he’d curled tighter against Tony’s chest, clutching him like a shield. Now the boy was out cold, face pressed into Tony’s shirt, leaving damp patches of salt and grief.
Tony didn’t move. Couldn’t. One arm was wrapped protectively around Harry, the other limp across the back of the couch, fingers digging into the upholstery.
His chest ached. Not from Harry’s weight but from the storm inside him.
Jesus.
The words Harry had managed to choke out—broken fragments of something no kid should even have language for—were carved into Tony’s head, replaying on a sickening loop. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to hunt down Vernon Dursley himself and make sure there wasn’t enough left of him to scrape into a jail cell.
Instead, he sat. Because Harry needed him to sit.
Tony tipped his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like it might offer all the answers. He was Tony Stark: billionaire, genius, engineer, occasional savior of the world. But nothing in his life had prepared him for a child sobbing out horrors in the dark.
He tightened his hold on Harry, just slightly, careful not to wake him. The kid’s trust was like napalm—volatile, precious, terrifying.
“Christ, kid,” he whispered into the quiet. “You hand me all that and just… fall asleep on me like it’s nothing.”
His throat closed. He hadn’t cried in years, but something hot and sharp burned behind his eyes.
“I’m not cut out for this,” he muttered, voice low so it wouldn’t stir the boy. “I’m not a therapist, not a parent, not a goddamn saint. I’m a guy who can barely go three weeks without sabotaging his own life. And you… you just put all your trust in me.”
StarkPup gave a soft mechanical whir from the table, almost like a reminder: still here, still standing.
Tony huffed out a shaky breath, staring at the glow of the city leaking through the curtains, feeling the weight of certainty settle through him. “You’ve got me, kid. For good. No backing out. No screw-ups big enough to lose you. Not while I’m still breathing.”
The words felt too big in the room, but they were true.
Harry stirred slightly, nuzzling closer, and Tony pressed a hand over the back of his small head, sealing the promise in silence.
For once in his life, Tony Stark didn’t feel the need to be brilliant or invincible. He just needed to keep being here.
---
Tony woke up with his back aching and a seven-year-old welded to his side. The couch wasn’t meant for sleeping, not for him anyway, but Harry had burrowed in like a barnacle sometime after midnight and Tony hadn’t had the heart—or maybe the guts—to move him.
StarkPup whirred softly on the table, one ear bent at an odd angle, like it was dreaming too.
For a second, disorientation clung to him. The city outside was too loud, too awake. Then he remembered the night before, remembered every ragged word Harry had managed to spill into the dark, and his stomach clenched.
“Sir,” JARVIS said gently, “it is currently 8:47 a.m. Might I suggest relocating to a more orthopedic sleeping arrangement?”
“Great idea,” Tony rasped. His voice was wrecked. “Send a memo to my chiropractor.”
Harry stirred at the sound, mumbling into Tony’s shirt. “Don’t wanna get up.”
“Yeah, join the club,” Tony muttered, smoothing a hand over the boy’s messy hair. “Unfortunately, civilization requires pancakes. Non-negotiable.”
That earned him a sleepy blink, then the faintest ghost of a smile. “With chocolate chips?”
“Kid, please. I don’t know how to make pancakes any other way.”
Harry sat up slowly, rubbing his face. His eyes were still swollen and red, but he looked… lighter, somehow. Less like the weight of the world was sitting on his shoulders.
Tony stretched and groaned theatrically, rolling off the couch like an old man. “Alright, troops, to the kitchen. Let’s move before Happy gets out here and steals the good syrup.”
“Happy doesn’t like syrup,” Harry pointed out, trailing after him.
“Exactly,” Tony said, deadpan. “That’s what makes him suspicious. We keep our eye on him anyway.”
Harry giggled, soft and real, padding into the kitchen behind him.
For now, it was enough.
Notes:
This was very hard for me to write, but extremely cathartic.
Chapter 16: Chapter 16
Notes:
Thanks for all the comments on that last chapter. Writing about abuse is difficult and I'm glad (is that even the right word?) it landed as such. We're recovering, though! Fuck the Dursley's! :P
Chapter Text
(Harry’s POV)
Tony had started going with them on the way to school ever since Harry had lost control of his magic – not that Harry minded. It was comforting having Tony there before and after school- it was something that felt achingly like family.
The sun was warm enough that the pavement shimmered faintly, and Harry squinted against it as he stepped out of the car. Happy gave his usual grunt of farewell, and Tony gave his usual ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’ warning before tugging at Harry’s collar like it was regulation to check for straightness.
Harry pretended to roll his eyes, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
The school loomed ahead, busy with parents and kids. He still didn’t like the crowd, but his hand had already slipped into Tony’s without asking, and Tony’s grip tightened like a silent promise. The nerves dulled to a quiet hum.
“Remember,” Tony said, lowering his voice like they were planning a heist. “Any teacher who says your handwriting is ‘messy’ gets a strongly worded memo from Stark Industries.”
Harry giggled before he could stop himself. “You can’t do that.”
“Sure I can. Stationery vengeance is my specialty.” Tony winked and steered him toward the school.
Inside the playground, George was waving wildly, Lucy bouncing beside him. Harry’s chest loosened. This was normal. This was fine.
He let go of Tony’s hand only when George called his name. But as he hurried over, he looked back once more. Tony was there, already back at the car, pretending not to watch. Harry knew better.
---
Classes passed in their usual blur of worksheets and stories, and by the time the last bell rang Harry was buzzing with relief. He spotted Tony casually leaning out of the car past the front steps, sunglasses on, acting like he didn’t have a million better things to do.
George nudged him. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, smiling small, before jogging toward the gates.
That’s when the voices started.
At the end of the long driveway—outside the school’s iron gates—stood a cluster of adults with cameras that had lenses as long as Harry’s arm. They shouted across the gap, voices carrying unnaturally loud.
“Mr. Evans, is Tony your dad?”
“Harry! Look here—give us a smile!”
“How long were you in foster care?”
Their words carried over the sounds of the other parents and children.
Harry froze. His stomach dropped clean out of him. The cameras kept flashing even though he wasn’t near enough for them to catch more than a blur. He hated it—being pointed at, yelled at, like an animal in a cage – his personal life shouted for everyone to hear.
Tony was there before Harry could think. His hand found Harry’s shoulder, warm and steady. “With me, kiddo,” he said low, steering him toward the car. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it sharp enough to cut steel.
The shouting only grew louder. Questions. Demands. Some of them called Harry’s name like they owned it.
Harry’s vision tunneled, chest tight. He clutched Tony’s sleeve, desperate, struggling to breathe past the wall of voices and flashes.
Overhead, one of the courtyard lights flicked on, buzzing loudly, then popped with a crack. A gust rattled through the leaves so forcefully the voices were drowned out – along with everything else.
Tony didn’t miss a step. He pulled Harry into the car, shielding him with his body as the door shut on the chaos outside.
Inside the cocoon of tinted glass, it was quiet again.
“Step on it, Hap – straight back to the penthouse,” Tony said angrily, “JARVIS, let Pepper and legal know what just happened.”
They slid out the gates, passing a group of reporters, several of which were sent sprawling by the burly security guard when they didn’t move quick enough, and Harry looked down at his shaky hands.
His magic spilling out was getting worse – always when he didn’t mean to.
A soft hand on his shoulder grounded him.
“It’s okay, Harry. We’ll figure it out.”
---
((Mixed POV))
Harry trailed into the penthouse with his backpack still on, straps hanging like they weighed a ton. He didn’t even bother untying his shoes. StarkPup barked once from the corner, metallic and tinny, but Harry didn’t lift his head.
Tony tossed his sunglasses onto the counter with a clatter.
Harry stood in the middle of the room like he didn’t know where to go. His mask was back—the too-straight spine, the blank eyes, the shoulders braced for impact. Tony hated that mask.
“C’mere, kiddo,” Tony said gently.
Harry hesitated, then shuffled closer, still clutching his bag straps like a lifeline.
Tony crouched so they were eye-level. “None of that was on you. Not the shouting, not the flashes, not the panic. You hear me?”
Harry swallowed hard. “But they… how did they find my school? They knew it was me.”
Tony’s jaw tightened, but he forced his tone calm. “Yeah, I’m not sure. Maybe a parent tipped them off, but that’s on them, not you. My lawyers are gonna chew ‘em up and spit ‘em out. Your only job is to breathe.”
Harry’s eyes flicked downward, toward the faint tremor still running through his fingers. “It’s getting worse,” he whispered. “My magic.”
Tony reached out and stilled his hands between his own. “Then we’ll figure that out, too. Together. Like StarkPup—we debug it until it works. You don’t have to fix it alone.”
Harry blinked fast, lips pressed thin, and then he moved forward, his arms wrapping around Tony, chin wobbling against his shoulder. Tony held back for as long as he needed.
When Harry finally shuffled off toward his room, StarkPup clutched in his arms, Tony stayed kneeling in the living room, residual anger refusing to be silenced.
---
(Tony’s POV)
The penthouse was quiet except for the soft hum of the HVAC and the muted clatter of StarkPup barking somewhere in Harry’s room. Tony retreated to the lab, sleeves shoved up, nursing a cup of coffee that had gone cold when the holo-call lit up across the table.
Pepper’s face appeared first, her expression already set in that cool, contained way she used whenever the company was bracing for impact. Beside her, Susan Chen—their general counsel—had a tablet open, stylus moving in neat strokes.
“Tony,” Pepper started without preamble. “We’re already drafting cease-and-desist letters. JARVIS was able to find the incident streamed from multiple sources. Susan’s prepping injunction filings in case any outlet tries to run Harry’s face.”
“Good,” Tony said. His voice came out clipped, harsher than he intended, but Pepper didn’t flinch. He rubbed a hand down his jaw. “How airtight are these laws? I don’t want half of Fleet Street turning my kid into tomorrow’s front page.”
Susan looked up. “U.K. privacy protections for minors are strong, especially against commercial exploitation. Any photographs taken on school property or targeting Harry by name are actionable. We can move fast to suppress distribution and file for damages if needed. The school’s security reports will reinforce the case.”
Tony exhaled through his nose, some of the tight coil in his chest loosening. “Alright. Lock it down. I don’t care how much ink it burns. If a single shot of Harry shows up in print, I want them buried in paperwork until their grandkids are signing NDAs.”
Susan inclined her head. “Consider it done.”
Pepper’s voice softened. “Tony—Harry’s the priority here. Keep the routine as normal as possible. We’ll handle the noise.”
Tony glanced toward the hallway, a muffled laugh coming from behind Harry’s closed door. He tapped his fingers against the table, restless but resolved. “Yeah. Normal. That I can do.”
Pepper smiled faintly. “Then let us do the rest.”
The call ended, leaving Tony in the lab with the empty mug. He set it down with a quiet clink, straightened his shoulders, and turned toward the hall. Legal battles, press wars—he could fight those blindfolded. But Harry needed him steady right now, more than any headline needed his fury.
---
Tony nudged Harry’s door open with a quiet knock an hour later. StarkPup barked its tinny bark the second he stepped in, the little bot perched on the bed like a guard dog. Harry was curled sideways with a book half-closed against his chest, eyes unfocused.
“Thought you’d be asleep by now,” Tony said, leaning against the frame.
“Wasn’t tired,” Harry mumbled, which would’ve been more convincing if his voice hadn’t wobbled with the kind of exhaustion only seven-year-olds carried.
Tony crossed the room, plucked StarkPup up by one crooked ear, and set him on the desk. “Your roommate says otherwise. He filed a noise complaint.”
Harry’s lips twitched despite himself. “Robots can’t file complaints.”
“Wanna bet? Give me an hour and a soldering iron.” Tony dropped onto the bed beside him, close but not crowding. “Wanna skip school tomorrow and come help me raid the kitchen? I think Happy tried to hide a bag of Cheetos, and if we don’t intercept them, he’ll inhale them all.”
Harry’s stomach betrayed him with a quiet grumble. His cheeks heated, but Tony pretended not to notice, just held out a hand.
Minutes later they were parked on the couch, StarkPup bumbling after them until Harry scooped him up and tucked him like a plush toy under one arm. The TV hummed with a late-night cartoon, volume low. Cheesy crumbs dusted Harry’s fingers as he sat against Tony’s side, chewing slowly, tension bleeding out bit by bit.
“Chips before bed, questionable parenting choices, evil robot dog lurking at your elbow. Doesn’t get more Stark household than that,” Tony said lightly.
Harry let out a small laugh—thin, but real. “It’s better than anything before.”
Tony’s chest tightened at that, but he didn’t let it show. He tapped Harry’s chip. “Careful. You drop any more crumbs on the couch, and StarkPup here’s going into vacuum mode.”
Harry giggled properly this time, the sound muffled into Tony’s shirt when he finally tipped over against him, worn out.
Tony wrapped an arm around him and stared at the flicker of the quiet TV. Feelings weren’t something he was good at expressing, and turning them into actual words was something he’d done maybe five times in his life. But as Harry dropped off to sleep next to him, safe and relaxed, Tony realized there was very little he wouldn’t do to keep him that way—that he might actually, somehow, love him.
The thought scared the shit out of him — but scarier still was imagining letting him go.
Tony thumbed the remote to the next channel, cartoons flickering across the dark room. Chips, bad TV, a kid asleep at his side—mundane, messy, ordinary. Tony decided ordinary wasn’t so bad.
---
The next morning smelled faintly of coffee and toast. Tony stood at the stove in a t-shirt and pajama pants, trying (and failing) to flip pancakes without destroying their structural integrity. Harry sat at the counter with StarkPup perched beside his plate, giggling as the bot tried to nose a piece of bacon.
“Hey, don’t encourage him,” Tony said, waving the spatula. “You give that mutt bacon and he’ll never learn to fetch a wrench properly.”
Harry grinned, cheeks still pink from sleep. “I think he’d rather fetch breakfast.”
“Yeah, same,” Tony admitted, sliding a slightly lopsided pancake onto Harry’s plate. “Eat up, chief. Big day ahead.”
Harry tilted his head. “What’s going on?”
Before Tony could answer, JARVIS chimed in: “Sir, Mrs. Webber has arrived. Shall I send her up?”
Harry’s fork stilled.
“Go ahead, J,” Tony said as he set the spatula down and leaned his elbows on the counter, meeting Harry’s eyes. “It’s nothing bad, just a check-in. Grown-up paperwork stuff. You focus on the pancakes.”
Harry nodded slowly, tension creeping into his shoulders. Tony forced a smile, ruffling his hair. “Relax, kid. I’ll handle it.”
He straightened as the elevator chimed, the morning’s levity thinning but not gone. By the time Miriam stepped into the penthouse, notebook under her arm, Tony had braced himself.
---
He met her halfway, mug in hand, and took a sip. “Morning,” he said, a little gruffly.
“Good morning, Tony” Miriam replied evenly.
“Let’s talk on the terrace; Harry’s finishing breakfast,” Tony said, nodding toward the kitchen where Harry was trying, and clearly failing, not to listen in.
“Lead the way,” Miriam agreed.
Tony walked outside, closing the door behind him, and took a seat, playing with the rim of the cup. They took a few minutes to go over the basic stuff – making sure Harry’s eating a balanced diet, keeping up on schoolwork, maintaining a schedule. Then her tone shifted, less business, more… caring.
“I heard about the incident outside the school. That must have been very difficult for Harry,” Miriam said.
“Yeah, difficults one word for it.” Tony rubbed a hand down his face. “He’s holding it together, but I’ve seen him rattled before. This was worse. Paparazzi screaming his name like it’s public property—it was a circus.”
Miriam tilted her head, sympathetic. “How has he been otherwise?”
Tony hesitated. “Better. Mostly. A couple weeks ago, maybe ten days, he… told me things. Stuff I didn’t want to hear. Stuff no kid should ever have to say.” His throat tightened; he forced it steady. “But he trusted me with it. Me. I don’t know how to process that. I keep thinking he’s gonna wake up, realize I don’t know what I’m doing, and—poof—I’m not the guy anymore.”
“You don’t have to be perfect, Tony,” Miriam said softly. “You just have to be steady; consistent. From the sound of it, you’re already doing that.”
Tony let out a low breath, staring at the patio table. Then, before he could back down: “Tell me what it takes to make this permanent.”
Miriam blinked. “Permanent?”
“Adoption,” Tony clarified. The word felt like dropping an anvil, but once it was out, he didn’t flinch. “I don’t want him guessing if I’m sticking around. I want it in black and white. No takebacks, no fine print.”
Miriam’s mouth curved into a small, knowing smile. “That’s a very serious step, Tony. Are you sure?”
“Pretty damn sure,” Tony said flatly. “I sign billion-dollar mergers every year. None of them have mattered half as much as this kid. So, what’s the timeline? What hoops am I jumping through?”
Miriam opened her notebook, though she didn’t look down at it. “UK law requires a minimum fostering period of ten weeks before an adoption application can be lodged. You’ve already passed your fostering assessments, and we’re past the ten-week mark now. The next step would be submitting a formal application to the court.”
Tony straightened. “That’s it? No endless waiting lists?”
“There will still be reports, hearings, and a final adoption order,” Miriam cautioned. “But because Harry’s placement with you is already stable, the process can be fairly swift—months, not years.”
“Good.” Tony’s jaw tightened, then loosened as he exhaled. “Alright. Then let’s do it. You line up whatever paperwork is needed, and I’ll put pen to paper.”
Miriam’s voice softened. “I’ll begin drafting the next steps. But Tony—what Harry needs most isn’t just paperwork. It’s the reassurance you’ve already been giving him. If you continue as you have, the court will see what he already feels—that he’s found a home.”
Tony swallowed against the lump in his throat. He tried for flippant and only half-managed it. “I’m in this for the long haul, then.”
“You certainly are,” Miriam said, with a warmth that landed deeper than he’d admit.
---
(Harry’s POV)
Miriam closed her notebook softly and gave Tony one of those small, meaningful nods that felt like the end of a chapter. Then she stood, smoothing her jacket.
“May I speak with Harry for a little while?” she asked.
Tony tilted his mug in agreement. “Kitchen’s yours.”
When she stepped inside, Harry was hunched at the counter, StarkPup’s paw resting on his arm like an anchor. He jumped a little when she neared him.
“Hi, Harry. Mind if I sit?”
He shook his head quickly.
Miriam eased onto the stool opposite him. “I’ve been hearing good things from your teacher. Science projects, friends, a library of books that keeps growing?”
That coaxed the smallest twitch of a smile. “Tony keeps buying more shelves.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s keeping busy then,” Miriam said, her tone light. After a pause, she softened her voice. “I wanted to ask how you’re doing here. Not just with school or projects—but here, at home.”
Harry stared at his plate. The question felt too big. He wanted to say fine, good, safe—anything to make her stop looking at him - waiting. But what slipped out was quieter, truer:
“It feels… different.” His voice trembled, but he pressed on. “Better - not like before. I don’t have to… worry so much.”
Miriam nodded gently, not pushing. “Different can be good. Do you want it to stay this way?”
Harry’s breath caught. He fiddled with StarkPup’s ear, whispering, “Yeah. I don’t… I don’t want to go anywhere else. I want to stay.”
“That’s important to know,” Miriam said, warmth steady in her voice. “Thank you for telling me, Harry. It helps me understand how you’re feeling. You deserve to feel safe, and to be safe.”
Harry swallowed, cheeks hot, but the tightness in his chest eased just a little. She didn’t laugh at him or tell him not to be silly. She just… listened and understood.
---
(Tony’s POV)
The door slid open and Miriam stepped out a few minutes later. Her notebook stayed tucked under her arm this time.
Tony straightened immediately, setting his mug down harder than intended. “So?”
Miriam didn’t answer with words right away—just gave him a look that was equal parts warm and understanding.
Finally she said, “He’s settling. And he’s very clear—he wants to stay.”
Tony’s shoulders eased in a way he hadn’t realized they’d locked up. He let out a long breath, covering it with a half-smirk. “Good. Then we’re on the same page.”
Miriam only nodded, the flicker of approval in her eyes carried more weight than anything else she could have said.
---
((Mixed POV))
The terrace door clicked shut behind Miriam, her heels fading against the hardwood before stepping onto the elevator. For a long moment Tony stayed put, mug in hand, shoulders sagging back into the couch like someone had just pried a weight off him.
The door creaked again. Smaller footsteps this time.
Harry edged out onto the terrace, blinking in the pale morning light. “She's leaving?”
“Yeah,” Tony said, scooting over automatically to make space. “All official notebooks and serious nods have left the building.”
Harry hovered a second longer, then climbed onto the couch beside him, knees tucked under his chin. The city stretched wide below them, rooftops and glass winking in the sun.
Tony tipped his mug toward him. “You missed it—she gave me the third degree on whether I’m feeding you properly. I may have promised to give you five-a-day.”
Harry’s eyes flicked up, uncertain. “Five what?”
“Carrots. Apples. Kale if I’m feeling cruel.” Tony smirked, then leaned in as if sharing a state secret. “Or… we can bend the rules. Five chocolate biscuits count as five, right? Small nutritional loophole.”
Harry snorted before he could stop himself, the sound half laugh, half relief. “That’s not how it works.”
“Hey, who’s the billionaire genius here?” Tony fired back, mock-offended. “I’ll draft the science papers myself.”
Harry shook his head, but the stiffness in his shoulders eased and the tight knot that had been twisting in his chest that morning finally loosened, like air rushing out of a balloon.
They sat in silence for a beat, sunlight warming the terrace, the city a low hum beneath them.
“How about this,” Tony said, lowering his voice like it was a classified mission. “We skip the kale, make more popcorn than the FDA would ever approve of, and then dive into Star Wars. I’ve got an intergalactic itch to scratch, and only a lightsaber marathon can fix it.”
Harry’s lips curved into a real smile, small and steady. “Okay.”
Chapter 17: Chapter 17
Notes:
Short chapter - I'll post another in 12 hours or so (also shorter) but only two more chapters in this beginning arc!! So excited
Chapter Text
(Harry’s POV)
The evening light slanted across the penthouse windows, turning the glass gold. Harry had been fiddling with StarkPup’s antenna when Tony cleared his throat. That was usually a sign something serious was about to be said.
“So,” Tony started, spinning a pen between his fingers and looking like he’d rather be doing anything else. “Been thinking about… that paparazzi mess at your school. I’ve been considering alternative options.”
Harry frowned. “Alternative?”
“Yeah. Y’know—homeschooling. Tutors. Private lab experiments supervised by yours truly.” Tony forced a smirk, but it didn’t hide the way his shoulders were tight. “After what happened the other day, I don’t exactly love the idea of you being out there in the circus.”
Harry froze. His stomach dropped as anxiety flooded him, but not in the same way it had when the cameras flashed. This was worse—like he was being punished.
“No,” he said quickly, sharper than he meant. “I don’t want that.”
Tony blinked. “You don’t—”
“I’ve got George and Lucy,” Harry cut in, gripping StarkPup tighter. “And it’s only a few more weeks till summer. I don’t want to leave when it’s almost over.” His voice wobbled. “Please don’t pull me out.”
The silence stretched. Tony leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on him like he was trying to measure every word. Then he let out a breath.
“Alright. I’m not going to force you,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to give you the option, that’s all. You get majority vote here, Harry.”
Relief flooded through him so fast his eyes stung. He nodded, his fingers loosening around the robot.
Tony ruffled his hair, gentler than usual. “Okay then. No tutors, no dungeon schooling. You stick with George and Lucy. I’ll deal with any more nosy reporters.”
---
(Tony’s POV)
Tony had dropped Harry off at school that morning, and was working on his third cup of coffee when his phone buzzed.
Caller ID: M. Webber - Social Worker
Perfect.
He swiped to answer. “Tell me the good news.”
“Good morning to you too, Tony,” Miriam replied dryly. “I just wanted to follow up after our conversation on the terrace last week. I’ve spoken with the local authority, and I can confirm—you’re eligible to submit the adoption application.”
Tony straightened in his chair. “That’s what I like to hear. What’s the timeline?”
“As I said, we’re past the ten-week fostering requirement,” Miriam reminded him. “The application can be lodged immediately. From there, it’s a matter of preparing updated reports, a court date, and—eventually—a final adoption order. If all goes according to plan, you could be looking at adopting in a couple of months.”
“I can live with that,” Tony said. His free hand drummed impatiently on the table. “I want him to have something concrete, though. I think he’s been second-guessing whether I’ll stick around. I want to give him proof I’m not going anywhere.”
Miriam’s voice softened. “Tony, you are the proof. Every day he wakes up in that home with you is proof.”
“Yeah, well, forgive me if I think a piece of paper with a court’s signature might carry a little more weight,” Tony muttered. Then, after a beat, quieter: “If there’s any way to time it so Harry has something in his hands by his birthday, I want that.”
There was a pause—the faint scratch of her pen audible through the receiver. “I can’t promise final orders by then. But with your legal team’s help, we could likely have the application lodged and acknowledged by the court. That acknowledgment letter should be ready in time.”
Tony’s jaw tightened, then eased. “Good. That’ll work, actually. Nothing final in case Harry decides he wants something else.”
“Tony…” Miriam’s tone was careful, grounding. “You’re already giving Harry what he needs—stability, care, a sense of belonging. Don’t underestimate how much that matters.”
“Trust me, I don’t,” Tony said. He glanced around the lab, eyes landing on a book Harry had left on the console table. “But he deserves to know he’s not a temporary fixture in my life. That’s non-negotiable.”
“I’ll get the process moving,” Miriam assured him. “And I’ll keep you updated every step of the way.”
“Thanks, Miriam.”
Tony ended the call and stared at the phone for a long beat. He wasn’t a man who waited well, but for Harry, he’d wait out every court date and report under the sun. Still, the sooner they put ink on paper, the better.
---
By the time Tony had routed the call through JARVIS, the lab’s holoscreens were already crowding with statutes, precedent cases, and red-flag headlines.
Pepper appeared first, posture straight, arms folded like she’d already fought three fires that morning. Beside her, Susan Chen sat with her ever-present tablet, stylus poised.
“Tony,” Pepper said, not wasting time on pleasantries. “Miriam just filled me in. You want to push through adoption proceedings.”
“Not just want,” Tony corrected sharply. “I am pushing it through. I want it locked down by his birthday.”
Pepper’s brows flicked upward a fraction. “That’s… ambitious. Courts won’t bend just because your name is Stark.”
“Then we’ll lean on the parts that do bend,” Tony shot back. He gestured toward Susan. “Tell me what I need to grease, what I need to expedite. I don’t care if I have to buy the courthouse a new wing.”
Susan adjusted her glasses, unruffled. “Money won’t shortcut statutory requirements. What you can do is ensure your application is flawless. No gaps, no delays. That means character references, home study updates, financial disclosures—the works. With your approval, I’ll coordinate with Miriam directly to make sure we have every local authority document in order before we file. The cleaner the submission, the faster the court acknowledgment.”
“Do it,” Tony said. “Pull every document you need from my files. Talk to Miriam, talk to whoever—you get me a bulletproof application, and I’ll sign it.”
Pepper interjected, tone still cool but edged now. “Tony, this isn’t a hostile takeover. This is a child’s life. Fast-tracking it and throwing lawyers at it isn’t the point—it’s about making sure Harry isn’t swept up in your momentum. Have you asked him how he feels?”
Tony’s jaw tightened. “I know how he feels. He wants to stay. He told Miriam, he told me. He doesn’t need a poll, he needs permanence. He needs to know that the bastards who ‘raised’ him will never lay their hands on him again.”
For a moment the air hung tense. Then Susan cleared her throat gently. “We can aim to have the court acknowledgment ready by July. Since that aligns with his birthday, it would be a symbolic milestone, even if the final order comes later.”
Tony exhaled, some of the fight bleeding out. “Symbolic works. I want him to have something in his hands. Proof he’s not temporary.”
Pepper finally softened, though only slightly. “Then let’s get to work. But Tony—don’t let this become another project you bulldoze. This is about Harry, not you.”
“Harry’s not a project, Pepper,” Tony said quietly, “and this might be the first time in my life that it isn’t about me at all.”
The call ended, leaving the lab awash in floating documents and legal templates.
---
Tony rubbed a hand down his face, exhaling hard. He needed a different voice in his ear.
He thumbed through his contacts until he found what he was looking for.
Rhodey.
It only rang once.
“Tony. You’re calling me at—” there was a pause, a rustle of papers, “—nine in the morning. That’s either very good or very bad.”
“Depends on what you consider bad,” Tony muttered. “Got a minute?”
“Always. What’s going on?”
Tony leaned back against the console, staring at nothing. “I’m filing adoption papers. For Harry.”
The silence on the other end wasn’t shocked, exactly. More… thoughtful. Then Rhodey said, voice softer than expected: “You sound sure.”
“I am.” Tony’s jaw tightened. “But I’m also… not. I mean, he told Miriam, he told me, that he wants to stay, but… what if he changes his mind? What if I offer him the acknowledgement on his birthday and he flips out? I… kinda love this kid, Rhodey, and that scares the shit out of me.”
Rhodey didn’t answer right away. Tony could hear him breathe out through his nose, the way he always did when he was weighing words instead of blurting the first thing that came to mind.
“Tony,” he said finally, steady as ever, “you being scared? That’s the point. That means this isn’t just a joke to you. You don’t get scared over weapons contracts or board meetings. You get mad, you get cocky. But scared? That means it matters.”
Tony scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, being scared isn’t exactly in the parenting handbook. What if he wakes up one day and decides he doesn’t want me anymore?”
“Then you keep showing him why he should,” Rhodey countered. “You don’t give up. That kid’s had people give up on him his whole life. You screw up—and you will—you fix it. You stick. That’s what makes you family, not the paperwork.”
Tony laughed, brittle and humorless. “Paperwork’s still part of the deal. You know me—I like proof. I want to put something in his hands that says he’s mine. That he’s safe. That nobody gets to touch him again.”
“Then do it,” Rhodey said simply. “File the papers. Give him the proof. But don’t mistake the order for the promise. He already trusts you, so just keep showing him that he can.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the fight drain out of him. “I hate it when you’re right,” he said, mirroring the words he used the last time he’d called the man.
“You love it,” Rhodey shot back, with just enough warmth and mirth to cut through Tony’s self-loathing. “Now quit spiraling. Eat something. And tell the kid you love him out loud, because from where I’m standing? That’s the only proof that counts.”
For a long moment Tony just sat there, listening to the quiet hum on the line. Then he blew out a slow breath, the knot in his chest loosening a fraction.
“Thanks, Ro.”
“Anytime. And Tony? You’re not half as bad at this as you think you are.”
The call ended, leaving the lab quiet again, only the faint hum of machinery filling the air. Tony lowered the phone onto the console and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, letting Rhodey’s words replay in his head. He already trusts you, so just keep showing him that he can.
The truth of it gnawed at him. He wanted to give Harry every shield, every safeguard, every ounce of permanence paperwork could provide—but maybe Rhodey and Miriam were right. Maybe the kid didn’t need proof signed in triplicate as much as he needed Tony to keep showing up.
Tony leaned back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling until the lights blurred. His body felt heavy, his brain overclocked from too many spirals in one day. For once, he didn’t feel like building or soldering or drowning himself in schematics.
He just felt… tired.
With a groan, he pushed to his feet, tugged the phone charger into place, and muttered, “Wake me when Happy is getting ready to pick Harry up, J.”
“Understood, sir,” JARVIS replied smoothly.
Chapter 18: Chapter 18
Notes:
With this (and ch. 19) we'll be cruising past 60k words. I honestly didn't expect such a positive reaction to this fic and I love that y'all are enjoying it.
Chapter Text
(Harry’s POV)
There were only two weeks of school left, and Harry was buried in spelling lists and practice papers for the end-of-year tests. Mrs. Williams had said it didn’t matter what scores you got as long as you tried your best, but Harry couldn’t shake the thought that anything less than perfect would mean letting Tony down, so he’d been working harder than ever—scribbling until his fingers cramped.
He was surprised when he got home from school – Tony had been absent picking him up with Happy – and found someone else waiting for him.
She wasn’t Miriam. That was the first thing he noticed.
The woman in the kitchen had a sharp bob and square glasses that caught the light whenever she turned her head. Her leather folder creaked when she opened it, and her pen tapped once against the paper before she spoke.
“Hello, Harry. I’m Ms. Carter,” she’d introduced herself. “I’m a Guardian ad Litem. I’m here just to get to know a little about you. Just us talking, no pressure. Is that alright?”
She didn’t smile too wide or too long, which Harry decided was good. Wide smiles usually meant trouble.
Harry nodded, though his shoulders stayed bunched. StarkPup whirred by his feet, tail ticking like a metronome.
“What do you like about living here?” she asked, pen poised but not moving.
Harry fiddled with his hands. “It’s… quieter. And Tony doesn’t leave me for hours or days at a time – he comes back. Always.” His voice went small. “Before, they didn’t.”
Ms. Carter’s eyes softened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“He makes me pancakes, even if they burn,” Harry added, because it felt important. “And he likes to hang my stuff on the fridge.”
“Those sound like good things,” she said gently. “Would you say you feel safe here?”
Harry’s throat bobbed. He looked at StarkPup, who yipped right on cue, and whispered, “Yeah. He’s never hurt me.”
This time she wrote something down, neat and precise. Then she closed the folder and said, “Thank you, Harry. That helps me a lot. Would you please show me your bedroom?”
---
When she finally left, Harry padded down the hall toward the lab. The door was propped open, the room humming faintly with computer fans. He leaned against the doorway.
Tony glanced up from his workbench, goggles pushed to his forehead, and grinned. “Hey, buddy. How was Ms. Carter?”
Harry shrugged, slipping inside until he was close enough to bump Tony’s arm. “She was okay. I think I like Mrs. Webber more. Is she coming back?”
“Who, Miriam?” Tony paused, brow arched.
“Yeah. Did we do something wrong?”
“Nah, kid,” Tony said, putting the soldering iron aside. “Miriam had to go to court today, and the judge sent someone new to double-check that I’m not running you on scraps and hard labor.” His eyes twinkled. “I hope you told her the truth - about how I make you eat your vegetables and go to bed before midnight.”
Harry cracked a small laugh and leaned into him. “I didn’t tell her that,” he said, pausing. “I said you make me burned pancakes.”
Tony’s mouth fell open. “Oh, that does it.” He lunged, fingers digging into Harry’s side. Harry squealed and squirmed, giggles bursting out uncontrollably.
“I-I’m sorry!” he gasped between laughs.
Tony eventually let him go, leaving Harry in a breathless heap on the couch. “Can you believe the nerve, JARVIS? All my hard work at a hot stove, slandered like that.”
“It’s a tragedy, sir,” JARVIS replied solemnly.
Harry caught his breath and quietly said, “I still like them.”
Tony huffed a laugh, ruffling his hair. “Yeah, well, next time you’re on pancake duty.” He tapped the lab table. “Now—go get your homework. We’ll tackle it together.”
---
(Tony’s POV)
The courtroom wasn’t a place Tony Stark frequented unless he was being sued, which meant his stomach had already tied itself in knots as he followed Miriam through the oak double doors. This time, though, there weren’t hostile lawyers waiting to try and gut him—just a clerk with too much paperwork and a judge flipping through a slim file.
Miriam leaned close as they sat. “This is just the follow-up to the initial hearing. They’ll review placement, confirm stability, and approve or deny the application moving forward. Nothing adversarial.”
“Good,” Tony muttered. “I can behave for one morning.”
The judge looked up, spectacles halfway down his nose. “Mr. Stark. Thank you for appearing.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Tony said dryly, clasping his hands before Miriam could elbow him.
The questions came in measured beats—about his work schedule, about childcare backup, about Harry’s schooling and medical care.
Tony forced himself to answer without flippancy, laying out Happy’s role, JARVIS’s monitoring, Pepper’s gentle oversight from New York. He mentioned George and Lucy by name, Harry’s teachers, and included Mrs. Williams’ comments about how he’d thrived at school.
The judge made notes, expression unreadable. Finally he said, “The reports from Mrs. Webber and Ms. Carter are consistent. The child appears bonded and stable in your care. The court acknowledges the application may proceed.”
Tony exhaled slowly. He’d half-expected a trapdoor to open beneath him.
“The next steps will include updated assessments and a review hearing,” the judge added. “If all continues smoothly, we’ll anticipate moving toward an adoption order within eight to ten weeks.”
Tony inclined his head. “Then we’ll keep it smooth.”
Miriam’s lips twitched into a private smile beside him.
As they left the courtroom, Tony shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling more rattled than he’d ever admit. “I didn’t even crack a joke in there. Write it down—it’s a historic day.”
Miriam gave him a sidelong look. “I’ll be sure to do that. And Tony - Harry’s a lucky kid - not because you’re Tony Stark - because you show up.”
Tony swallowed the lump in his throat, then smirked just enough to cover it. “Guess I better keep showing up, then.”
---
It was late and Harry was asleep when the elevator dinged, announcing someone’s arrival. Tony’s brow furrowed, not having seen Happy leave. He got up off the couch and moved toward the kitchen.
“Happy, what-,” He cut off, seeing who it was.
Pepper didn’t usually cross the Atlantic without five back-to-back board meetings strapped to her heels. Here she was, though, in the penthouse with a slim case in one hand and a harried expression that said she’d already fought through customs, lawyers, and traffic before arriving.
“I’ve got an investor summit tomorrow,” she explained when Tony just stared at her. “London wanted face time. And since I was here…” Her gaze flicked to the refrigerator, lingering on Harry’s star chart taped under a magnet. “…I thought I’d check in.”
Tony folded his arms, leaning against the counter. “Convenient timing. We filed this morning.”
“I know. Miriam updated me.” Pepper set her case down with a soft click. “Susan wants you to start compiling reference letters. And you’ll need updated health records. I can help streamline, but—”
Tony cut her off, sharper than he meant. “This isn’t some kind of merger, Pep.”
“I didn’t say it was,” she returned coolly. “But the court system eats delays for breakfast. If you want something by his birthday, the machine has to move smoothly. That’s what I’m trying to offer you here.”
For a second the air hung tight between them. Then Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, not entirely sure where his irritation had come from. “Fine – I’m sorry. You oil the gears. I’ll keep the human part together.”
Pepper gave a small nod, professional but not cold. “Good. I’m just trying to help how I can, Tony.”
Her eyes drifted once more to the fridge before she turned back to the case. Businesslike, but Tony caught the tiniest smile in the corner of her mouth.
---
(Harry’s POV)
Tony was making breakfast before school while Harry sat at the island, tongue poking out as he scribbled through another practice test. The days were counting down to the end of term, and then he’d have two weeks until his birthday. He wanted it to be over with so he could go back to relaxing and hanging out with Tony in the lab.
Tony wandered close to him, causing Harry to look up.
“I give you – redemption pancakes,” he said smugly, holding the frying pan for Harry to see.
Harry peered at it suspiciously. “The bottoms not burnt?”
Tony flipped it onto his plate. “Golden brown. Practically a Michelin level pancake. JARVIS, note my historic achievement.”
“Logged, sir,” the AI replied.
Harry took a bite, cheeks puffing. “… it’s still a little burnt.”
Tony deflated and clutched his chest dramatically, sending Harry into a fit of giggles.
---
The classroom buzzed with end-of-day chatter, pencil cases snapping shut and chairs scraping against the floor. Harry bent over his spelling list, lips moving silently as he tried to squeeze in just one more practice before the bell, letters blurring together into little traps waiting to trip him up. His stomach squirmed when he thought of the KSATs.
George leaned across the desk, already stuffing his books into his bag. “Bet I can finish the maths test faster than you.”
Harry’s head shot up. “You won’t! Mrs. Williams says you have to show your work.”
George smirked. “I’m still faster.”
Lucy chimed in with a bright grin. “It’s not a race, you guys. More importantly—Harry, you’re still coming to my birthday this weekend, right? Mum said she’s making chocolate cake.”
Harry blinked. For a second he froze, the old instinct to say I don’t know, maybe, creeping up. But then he remembered telling Tony about getting invited, and the way the man’s face had lit up. “Yeah,” he said, a little shy but certain. “I’ll be there.”
Lucy beamed. “Good. I’ll make sure to save you and George seats next to me.”
The bell shrilled, and the class erupted into chaos. Harry tucked his papers carefully into his folder, slower to leave than the others who had already darted out. Mrs. Williams crouched by his desk, her thin scarf slipping off one shoulder.
“You’ve been working very hard,” she said quietly. “I’ve noticed. You should be proud of yourself.”
Heat crept up Harry’s neck. “Thanks,” he mumbled, gripping his bag strap. The praise ignited a little spark in his chest—he couldn’t wait to tell Tony.
By the time he slipped out to the playground, George was already at the gate, waving like mad. And beyond him—Tony leaned against the car with his sunglasses, pretending, as usual, like he wasn’t searching for him. Harry’s chest eased. He hurried forward, slapping George’s outstretched hand and waving at Lucy before rejoining Tony, who ruffled his hair in greeting.
“Hey, kid,” Tony said, an easily smile on his face. “How was school?”
“Good,” Harry replied. “Mrs. Williams said I should be proud of how hard I’ve been working,” he said.
“Well, she’s right. You should be proud,” Tony said with a soft laugh.
Harry’s cheeks went a little hot. “I just want to make sure I don’t get something wrong on the test.”
Tony crouched a little so they were eye level, the noise around them fading slightly as he did. “Kid, if I graded myself on getting things right the first time, I’d be out of business. You think the Iron Man suit worked perfectly when I first built it? No way. It caught fire - more than once.” His mouth quirked. “What matters is—you’re trying, you keep going, and you haven’t blown up the classroom. That’s an A-plus in my book.”
“So… you wouldn’t be mad if I don’t get everything right?”
Tony’s hand smoothed his ruffled hair. “Mad? No. Proud? Absolutely. I’m proud already, kiddo. Tests don’t change that.”
The words hit hard, and Harry looked down, scuffing his shoe on the ground, not trusting his eyes not to tear up. He was just… so understanding.
Tony moved his hand to his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Ready to go home?”
A few months ago, Harry never could have imagined the happiness he would feel at hearing something so simple, but it made him almost giddy with excitement, now.
He glanced up with a smile. “Yeah, Tony. Let’s go.”
Chapter 19: Chapter 19
Notes:
This brings us to the close of arc 1 :) I am living for y'alls comments and they are so freaking positive.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Harry’s POV)
The classroom smelled like sharpened pencils and Mrs. Williams’ steaming coffee. Everyone was hunched over their test booklets, heads bent low, the only sounds the scratch of graphite and the occasional squeak of a chair. Harry’s hand ached from holding his pencil too tight, and he bit his lip as he tried to remember if “necessary” had two c’s or two s’s. His stomach twisted. What if he got it wrong? What if he got lots wrong?
Mrs. Williams had told them as they passed test booklets out that it didn’t matter what scores they got as long as they tried their best.
But she didn’t have Tony waiting at home, being proud of him. She didn’t know how much Harry felt like he needed to keep earning that pride.
He pressed down hard, erasing furiously until the paper went thin. His ears rang with the sound of George sighing dramatically two rows over. “This is torture,” George whispered once Mrs. Williams turned away, making Lucy stifle a laugh.
Harry’s grip eased just a little. If George could joke, maybe it wasn’t the end of the world.
When at last the bell rang and the booklets were collected, Harry felt hollowed out, like he’d been wrung dry. But as he packed his bag, a small glow sparked in his chest: he’d finished. All the words, all the numbers, all the pages; he’d finished without giving up. Tony said that was all that mattered.
Out in the hall, Lucy bumped his shoulder with a grin. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
Harry managed a shy smile back. His head hurt, but the glow stayed with him all the way to the car.
---
(Tony’s POV)
Miriam set the slim folder on the counter like it was made of glass. “It came through this morning,” she said, her tone brisk, but Tony caught the soft flicker in her eyes. “Preliminary acknowledgment of the adoption application. Something tangible.”
Tony’s fingers twitched, itching to snatch it up, but he forced himself to wait. Instead he leaned on the island, trying for casual. “So this is, what, the court’s version of a promise ring?”
“Tony,” Miriam said, exasperated, though the corner of her mouth ticked upward. “This is proof that the system recognizes what you’ve already been doing. It’s exactly what you asked for.”
“It was a stupid joke, my bad,” he said, backtracking.
He finally gave in, flipping the folder open. Black-and-white words, dry legal phrasing, but his chest still went tight. His name. Harry’s name. Together on the page.
“Happy birthday, kid,” he muttered under his breath.
Miriam gave him her patented look – steady and warm. “Planning on a grand reveal? Fireworks, maybe an Iron Man delivery?”
Tony laughed. “Nah, nothing so grand.” He closed the folder, tapped it once against the counter, and slipped it under his arm like it was top-secret. “But I’m gonna make sure he remembers the day he first saw his name next to mine. For the right reasons.”
Miriam smiled. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”
He nodded, already picturing how StarkPup was going to help him.
---
(Harry’s POV)
He woke to the smell of bacon and the sounds of loud voices. For a second Harry thought he was dreaming—the low rumble of Rhodey’s voice, Happy’s easy laugh, and Tony’s sharp retorts overlapping in a tangle. He rubbed his hands together, smiling when they collided with each other – not a dream, then.
He rubbed his eyes, hair sticking up in every direction, and padded down the stairs.
“…you can’t just put chocolate chips in the batter and call it a balanced meal,” Rhodey was saying.
“Balanced? They’re evenly distributed,” Tony shot back. “That’s math, Colonel. Science, even.”
Happy laughed as he held a plate out for Rhodey. “Pretty sure Harry doesn’t mind the extra chocolate.”
Harry stopped in the doorway, blinking at the sight of all three of them crowded around the stove. Rhodey in his pressed polo, Happy already dressed in his suit, Tony in pajamas with bed hair that likely rivaled his own.
Three heads turned at once.
“Hey, birthday boy!” Tony spread his arms wide like a magician revealing his greatest trick. “Look who I found lurking in the kitchen. Thought I’d hire them as your personal breakfast squad.”
“Happy birthday, kid,” Happy said warmly, coming over to squeeze his shoulder.
Rhodey gave him a little salute with the spatula. “Hope you’re hungry. Tony made the first batch. I’m making the edible ones.”
Harry giggled and slid onto a stool, cheeks warm from the chorus of attention. “Thank you,” he said, fighting the urge to start fidgeting.
Tony dropped a plate in front of him with a flourish. “All right, official itinerary: eat until you can’t move, presents, and then this afternoon we’re hitting a movie showing. I even invited your partners-in-crime, George and Lucy. So no ditching us for cooler company, got it?”
Harry’s lips parted in surprise. “George and Lucy? They’ll be there?”
“Already RSVPed,” Tony said smugly, sipping his coffee. “Rhodey and Happy tried to get on the guest list too, but I’m still reviewing their applications.”
“Unbelievable,” Rhodey muttered, though he was smiling.
Harry laughed, warmth spreading through him, filling the cracks where fear usually lived. It wasn’t just a birthday—it was his birthday, and there were people here who wanted to share it with him.
He took a big bite of pancake, chocolate chips melting on his tongue, and thought: best morning ever.
---
By midmorning, the kitchen smelled faintly of syrup and the sink was piled with pans Tony swore he’d “absolutely” wash later. Harry had barely finished rinsing the sticky off his fingers when Tony herded him into the living room.
“Stage two of Operation Birthday,” Tony declared, sweeping an arm at the coffee table. A neat pile of packages waited—bright wrapping paper, one with a bow that looked suspiciously like it had been stapled on at the last minute. StarkPup sat beside the stack, tail ticking like a metronome, clearly guarding the loot.
Harry blinked, wide-eyed. “Those are… for me?”
“Unless you’ve got a twin we don’t know about,” Rhodey said with a grin, pressing a box into his hands.
Harry sat cross-legged on the rug and peeled back the paper carefully, as if ripping it might be wrong. Inside—an enormous LEGO box covered in familiar stars and ships. His breath hitched.
“Star Wars?” he whispered, tracing the glossy picture of a starfighter with his fingertips.
Tony smirked. “Go big or go home, kid. That’s the deluxe set. By the time we’re done, you’ll either be a Jedi Master builder… or we’ll both be buried under plastic bricks.”
Harry’s face split into a grin so wide his cheeks hurt. “This is the coolest thing ever.”
“Careful,” Tony warned lightly, “say that too loud and StarkPup’s going to get jealous.”
Next came a neat stack of books—astronomy, more Norse mythology, and a battered adventure novel Tony swore was “a classic” even though Happy muttered it had been out of print since the 80s.
“Helps if you’ve got something to do when StarkPup runs out of battery,” Tony said, eyes soft as Harry scanned the first several pages of the astronomy book.
Then Rhodey leaned down and handed over a soft bundle. “This one’s from me.”
Harry set the book aside and tugged at the paper, revealing a stuffed Shrek—green ears, dopey grin, little vest stitched crookedly. He let out a startled laugh.
Rhodey shrugged, smiling. “Figured you’d appreciate a gift with layers, and an onion isn’t a very good gift.”
Harry hugged Shrek close, still giggling. “Thank you.”
Happy’s turn revealed a tidy science kit, little labeled tubes and gears, the kind of thing that made Harry’s fingers itch to tinker.
“You’ll need goggles,” Happy teased, “and maybe a fire extinguisher.”
Tony chuckled. “Don’t worry, Hap. I’ve already got both.”
“Thank you, Happy,” Harry said as he sat back against the couch, surrounded by books and boxes, one arm tight around Shrek and the other resting protectively on the Star Wars box. His chest felt so full it almost hurt. Nobody had ever given him birthday gifts. Nobody had looked at him like he deserved it.
Tony ruffled his hair gently. “All right, champ. Phase three starts after lunch. You ready to see if your friends can handle a Stark-sized snack bar?”
Harry looked up, beaming. “I’m ready.”
---
((Mixed POV))
The ride to the theater was noisy in the best way. Harry sat wedged between George and Lucy in the backseat, their chatter bouncing off the windows—arguments about which movie snacks were essential, who could eat more candy without getting sick, whether or not StarkPup would count as a paying guest.
Up front, Tony pretended not to listen as he scrolled his phone. In reality, he was cataloguing every sound—the easy way Harry laughed with his friends, the way his voice no longer sounded quite so small. A few months ago, the kid would’ve sat silent, waiting to be told where to go and when. Now he was chirping about popcorn sizes like it was the most important debate in the world. Tony would happily take it.
---
The theater lobby gleamed, empty except for balloons tied to the rail, a massive banner wishing Harry a happy birthday, and a manager nervously pretending not to stare at the entourage. George and Lucy stopped short, jaws dropping.
“It’s all ours?” Lucy whispered.
“Correction,” Tony said, holding the door open with a little bow. “Technically it’s his.” He tilted his chin toward Harry, who had frozen in his tracks, eyes round as saucers at the theater Tony had rented out.
Harry blinked at him, his disbelief apparent.
Tony only gave a small shrug, like it was obvious. “Come on, kid. Popcorn won’t eat itself.”
That broke the spell. Harry darted forward with George and Lucy, giggling as they raced each other to the concession stand.
---
Inside the screening room, the seats were plush, the screen almost blinding in its size. George whooped and immediately sprawled across two chairs until Lucy yanked him upright. StarkPup trotted down the aisle and parked itself at Harry’s feet.
Harry clutched his drink in both hands, trying to swallow the giddy feeling bubbling in his chest. It didn’t feel real. All day had felt like a dream he might wake from at any second.
Tony dropped into the seat beside him with a sigh and stretched his legs out. “All right, ground rules: no throwing popcorn at anyone except Happy and Rhodey, no rewinding the movie for bathroom breaks, and if anyone tells me I snore, you’re lying.”
Harry smirked. “You definitely snore.”
The lights dimmed before Tony could form a reply, which was probably for the best.
---
By the time the credits rolled, the three kids were sticky with sugar, the floor was a battlefield of popcorn and candy wrappers, and StarkPup had powered down mid-movie with its head resting on Harry’s shoe.
George was already chattering about a possible sequel, Lucy bantered back with her own ideas, and Harry sat in the middle of it all, hugging his empty popcorn bucket like it was treasure.
Tony watched him quietly from the aisle, feeling that strange tug again in his chest. For all the tech, all the theaters, all the grand gestures he could pull—this was what Harry seemed to enjoy the most. Just sitting between two friends, laughing at a movie, like a kid who finally belonged somewhere.
And Tony thought: This was worth every sleepless night. Worth every fight he’d fought.
---
(Tony’s POV)
Happy rolled to a stop in their usual parking space, and Tony popped the door open, holding it open for Harry, who slid out behind him with StarkPup hot on his heels.
They headed toward the elevator until Harry paused.
“Happy and Rhodey aren’t coming?” He asked, turning to watch the Rolls back up and pull away.
“Nah, I think they said something about picking up another gift. Don’t tell ‘em I told you,” Tony replied. Anxiety unlike anything he’d ever experienced coursed through him, threatening to strangle him.
Harry shook his head, eyes wide. “I-I’ve already gotten so much.”
“I know, kid. I tried telling them that you’re going to start expecting to get spoiled, but they wouldn’t listen,” Tony replied solemnly as they climbed in the elevator.
Harry laughed softly, followed by a sigh. “Thanks for everything, Tony. Today was the best day ever.”
Tony placed a hand on his soft hair. “You’re welcome, kiddo. I’m glad you had a good time.”
The elevator dinged as they arrived in the penthouse, and Tony’s anxiety spiked to an all-time high. He crouched down as Harry toed his shoes off, looking at StarkPup who was meeting his gaze with far too intelligent LED’s.
“You know the drill, pup,” Tony said softly.
StarkPup scrambled on the wood floor, darting into the penthouse while Harry watched curiously. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s find out,” Tony replied. A second later StarkPup barreled back, a red envelope clamped in its mouth like a prize. Iron Man red. Of course.
It skidded to a stop and planted its paws on Harry’s knees.
Harry laughed, startled, and tugged the envelope free. “Have you been coding the dog behind my back?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony said, though his grin betrayed him.
Inside was a cheesy card Tony had picked on purpose—swirls of ink blending into a heart with the words: Families aren’t just born… they’re chosen with love.
Harry’s hands shook as he opened it, a folded sheet of paper fluttering free. He unfolded it carefully and began to read, halting over the formal language:
“This letter confirms… the Court has received and accepted the petition of Anthony Edward Stark… to adopt the above-named child…”
His voice wavered. He rubbed his hands together, staring at the page like it might vanish.
Tony couldn’t stay quiet anymore and he went into a kneel. “It’s real, Harry. Not a dream. I mean—if you’re okay with me being permanent. Your dad, I guess. Unless that’s not—”
He didn’t get to finish. Harry launched forward, arms wrapping tight around his neck, hot tears seeping into Tony’s collar.
“Yes,” Harry whispered fiercely. “I—I want you as my dad.”
Tony’s throat closed up. He hugged him tighter than he thought possible. “I love you, kid.”
Harry gave a wet, breathless laugh, a shiver running through him. “I love you, too.”
Tony didn’t know how long they stayed like that—long enough for StarkPup to circle them with cheerful yips, long enough for his knees to start aching, but he didn’t care.
Eventually Harry pulled back, eyes still shining, and clutched the letter to his chest. “Can we… put this on the fridge?” he asked somewhat shyly.
Tony swallowed hard. “’Course. Front and center.”
So they did. Together, they smoothed the paper under a magnet shaped like a rocket, the words sitting side by side with Harry’s constellation book and the picture they’d taken weeks ago. Tony’s gaze lingered on it, the legal jargon almost glowing under the kitchen light. Proof. Permanence.
Harry beamed up at him. “I- I can’t believe this is real.”
Tony ruffled his hair gently, heart aching in the best way. “But it is.”
Later that night, when Harry finally drifted to sleep with StarkPup at his feet and Shrek tucked securely in his arms, Tony stood watching in the bedroom doorway for a long time. His son. His son.
His mind drifted to Yinsen and the words he said about family in the cave.
“So you’re a man who has everything… and nothing.”
Tony truly understood, maybe for the first time ever, what Yinsen meant.
There were still doubts and lingering fears, but Tony would do his best for Harry. That would be enough.
Notes:
I will be taking 3-7 days to write another 10-15 chapters before I start posting again. I am most likely going to start spreading the chapters out to once every few days/ once a week, and I miiiiight have to stop uploading all together depending on my living situation. I'll keep y'all posted. No horrible cliff hangers, at least! (yet >:D)
Chapter 20: Chapter 20
Notes:
I did nothing but write all weekend cause I am having so much fun diving into this.
Thank you for all the comments on the last chapter. I loved writing it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Tony’s POV)
Tony looked out over the city of London, a light morning breeze teasing his hair. He missed home. Missed America.
The publicity tour was only supposed to last two weeks. Now he was in the middle of something that mattered infinitely more: adopting Harry. It felt right. Good. Permanent in a way nothing else in his life had been. But it also meant no returning to U.S. soil until after the final hearing, which was locked for mid-September.
He’d already greenlit the construction of Stark Tower—a high-rise in Manhattan he planned to run off an Arc Reactor—and his hands itched to see the foundations with his own eyes. Instead, he stood here, coffee in hand, chained by statutory requirements and obligations.
The door behind him opened and closed softly, and then Harry was there, leaning into his side.
In the two weeks since his birthday, Harry was almost unrecognizable to the kid Tony had been living with for the past few months. He talked more, laughed easily, and touched freely now—gentle hugs, leaning shoulders, small gestures that had once seemed like foreign concepts.
“Hey, kiddo,” Tony said easily, resting an arm on his shoulder and pulling him closer.
“Morning, Tony,” Harry replied, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“How’d you sleep?” Tony asked, taking a sip from his coffee.
Harry shrugged. “Pretty good. StarkPup somehow managed to get my sheet caught in one of his joints, and that took a whole five minutes to sort.”
Tony snorted. The robot mutt was becoming a bigger menace the more they refined his code.
“Good thing you freed him. Imagine him parading around with your sheet for a cape. His pride would’ve taken a hit.”
Harry laughed softly. “That would be tragic.”
Tony’s grin widened. The jokes were new—tiny offerings, proof Harry felt safe enough to tease back.
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Tony said with a sigh, catching the tiny flicker of tension in Harry’s shoulders, “we should take a vacation.”
The tension dissolved as Harry looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we should get out of the penthouse. A couple weeks at my place in Malibu—just the two of us. Then on the way back, we can hit Manhattan. I’ll show you Stark Industries and we’ll stop by… our future home. Stark Tower. How’s that sound?”
Harry’s eyes burned with something Tony couldn’t quite read—hope, fear, disbelief all tangled. “Yeah,” he whispered, nodding. “That sounds good to me.”
“I’ll need to call Miriam, make sure I’m not breaking any laws hauling you out of the country,” Tony said, belatedly realizing the logistics. “If I can’t, we’ll pick somewhere closer.”
Harry nodded again, looking away. “Wherever you want, Tony. I’d like to go.”
Tony ruffled his hair, warmth catching in his chest.
Like I’d leave him behind.
---
Tony leaned back against the kitchen island, phone wedged between his shoulder and ear while he rummaged through the fridge. Half a carton of milk, three questionable containers of leftovers, and enough orange juice to keep Harry buzzing for a week. He shut the door with a sigh.
“Mr. Stark,” Miriam’s calm voice drifted over the line, steady as ever.
“Mrs. Webber,” Tony greeted, opening the fridge again and pulling the milk out. “Quick question: if I abscond with the kid across international borders, how long before Interpol kicks in my door?”
A pause. “Abscond?” she repeated.
“It’s a joke. Mostly.” He poured himself a glass and stared at it. “Look, I’ve been thinking—Harry and I could use some time away. Take a break from everything. I’ve got a house in Malibu - two weeks of sun, sand, robot-dog shenanigans. I figured, why not?”
“Why not,” Miriam echoed, amused. “Well, because you’re fostering a child in the UK, and there are certain rules about international travel.”
Tony rubbed his temple. “Yeah, I figured there’d be red tape. That’s why I’m calling instead of, y’know, hopping on the jet and winging it.”
“I appreciate that,” she said dryly. Then her tone softened. “It’s not forbidden, Tony. We just need documentation. A travel request, itinerary, emergency contacts. And of course, Harry will need a passport.”
Tony’s shoulders slumped. He tipped his head back toward the ceiling. “Of course. Passport. Which he definitely doesn’t have. Great. Guess it’s Brighton Pier instead.”
There was a smile in her voice when she answered, warmer than he expected. “Don’t be so dramatic, Tony. Pepper filed the paperwork when we submitted the adoption application. His passport came in last week. I don’t mind bringing it by.”
Tony blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“Not in the slightest. I think you’d be surprised how often she anticipates you.”
Tony huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “That woman is either psychic or a time traveler.”
“Or simply organized,” Miriam suggested.
“Don’t ruin it,” he muttered. But the weight had lifted from his chest, and he found himself grinning at nothing. “So we’re clear? No Interpol, no international fugitive? Just me, the kid, and two weeks of sunshine?”
“As long as you file the forms,” she confirmed. Her voice softened again. “Just make sure to keep some kind of routine, give him some ordinary days. That’s what heals.”
He swallowed around the lump in his throat, disguising it with a smirk she couldn’t see. “Ordinary, huh? Malibu’s got sharks. That’s pretty ordinary.”
“Goodbye, Tony.”
The line clicked dead.
He was about to shove his phone into his pocket, then stopped and thumbed through to Pepper’s contact.
“Headed to Malibu for a couple weeks with the kid,” he tapped out, “then stopping by Manhattan… thanks for anticipating my crazy—again.”
Message sent, Tony slid the phone away, grinning. The paperwork would be filed as soon as Miriam sent it through.
First, he had a kid to tell about sandcastles—and a robot dog to waterproof.
---
(Harry’s POV)
Packing turned out to be harder than he expected. Harry knelt by his bed with an open suitcase, biting his lip as he stared down at the pile. Clothes first—Tony reminded him to grab “enough socks and underwear to outfit a platoon,” so he stuffed nearly all he’d owned in. Then came his favorite books (he’d expanded into Greek mythology, now) carefully stacked on one side. He hesitated over which ones, then ended up choosing all three he was halfway through plus the little astronomy guide Tony had bought him.
“Don’t forget sunscreen,” Tony called from the hall. “The California sun is brutal. You’re pale enough to blend into the sand.”
Harry rolled his eyes but tucked the bottle into the corner anyway. Then he picked up the Shrek stuffed animal Rhodey had given him and pressed it to his chest. It was a little silly, but the idea of leaving it behind made his stomach hurt. Into the suitcase it went, nestled against the books.
When he zipped the suitcase closed, it felt… full. Like a piece of his life he could actually take with him.
---
The jet smelled faintly of leather and coffee when they boarded, sleek and too shiny to feel real. Harry slid into a wide seat by the window, StarkPup on the floor beside him, while Tony flopped into the opposite chair with a dramatic sigh.
“Buckle up, kid. And remember, jet etiquette requires at least one complaint about the peanuts,” Tony said, tugging at his belt.
Harry grinned, fumbling with his buckle before clicking it in.
Moments later, the engines roared to life and the world tilted, pressing him back as they climbed into the clouds.
StarkPup let out a startled chirp as they ascended, sliding down the aisle, paws clattering against the polished floor. Harry laughed so hard he nearly spilled the soda Tony had handed him.
The flight was a blur of noise and warmth—Tony teasing him about reading three books at once, StarkPup bouncing around before finally settling on the couch, and Harry craning at the window every time Tony pointed out landmarks below.
Hours later, when the jet finally touched down, Harry’s heart thudded with anticipation.
The door hissed open, and a rush of salty air hit Harry full in the face. He squinted into the California sun, shielding his eyes with one hand. Seagulls squawked loudly as they flew overhead.
“Home sweet home,” Tony announced, striding down the stairs like he owned the place, which Harry realized after a moment, he did.
He followed him toward a sleek silver car that looked like it belonged in a museum.
Tony’s grin was all teeth. “Audi R8. Custom.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “That’s yours?”
“Correction,” Tony said, twirling the keys around his finger, “it’s ours for the drive home.”
Tony slid behind the wheel and Harry buckled in, StarkPup wedged between them on the console. They shot out of the hangar and into the California sun with a roar of the engine, the city blurring by until the road began curving by along the cliffs.
---
And then—the house.
Glass and steel, perched on the cliff like it had grown there, looking sleek and futuristic. StarkPup darted out of the car the moment Tony opened the door, making a beeline for a built-in viewing deck, where he barked indignantly at the waves.
Harry stood frozen, suitcase forgotten in his hand. The view was breathtaking—the ocean was endless, shimmering across the horizon for as far as he could see.
Tony came around the car and rested a hand on his shoulder. His voice was softer than usual. “Welcome to Malibu, kid.”
Harry smiled so wide his cheeks ached.
---
Inside, the house smelled faintly of florals and salt, the walls gleaming with clean lines of glass and wood. It didn’t feel anything like the penthouse, which was all polished stone and city lights—it felt lighter, open, like the ocean had crept in and made itself comfortable.
Tony walked ahead, flicking on lights as he went, while Harry followed closely behind. “Kitchen’s here—ignore the fridge, I’m ninety percent sure it’s just condiments. Living room—best view in California. Don’t bother with the piano, it’s decorative.”
StarkPup trotted after him, nosing at every corner like he was cataloguing the place.
“And—” Tony pushed open a door near the hall and glanced back at him, “this one’s yours.”
Harry stepped inside, blinking at the sight. It wasn’t huge, not compared to the rest of the house, but the bed looked soft and inviting, a desk faced the ocean view, and a small shelf stood empty in the corner.
Tony leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Figured you could just make this space yours from now on, even if we’re only here a couple weeks.”
Harry dropped his suitcase by the bed and touched the shelf with his fingertips. His throat felt tight, but in a good way. “It’s perfect,” he whispered.
Tony smiled faintly, then knocked on the frame. “Alright, kiddo. Get settled. I’ll show you the lab tomorrow—fair warning, Dum-E is going to be jealous.”
Harry laughed, nodding. The sound of waves filled the silence when Tony left, steady and endless. A giggle bubbled up from his chest when he went to the window and looked out across the ocean, the sun slowly dropping below the horizon.
“So beautiful,” he whispered.
---
(Tony’s POV)
He’d barely finished eating the last bite of their breakfast - frozen waffles and eggs – when Harry started bouncing on his toes.
“So… can we go to the lab now?” he asked, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.
Tony grinned. “Knew you couldn’t resist. C’mon, bud.”
The Malibu lab was brighter than London’s—sunlight streamed through glass walls, gleaming off half-assembled suits and scattered tools. It was also about five times the size.
“Welcome,” Tony said, sweeping his hand toward the cavernous space, “to the inner sanctum. No food, no roughhousing, and no trying to hotwire the suits without my permission.”
Harry’s jaw dropped as his eyes darted from one workstation to the next. Half-built gauntlets, a deconstructed arc reactor on the bench, even the stripped-down frame of an old Mark II standing sentinel in the corner.
“You built all this?” Harry whispered.
Tony smirked. “Nah, the elves did it. They come at night in exchange for a great benefit package.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but he stepped closer to the reactor like it might bite.
Dum-E clattered forward, extending an armful of tools with hopeful chirps.
“Not now,” Tony told him, steering the bot gently aside. Dum-E’s arm drooped, and he rolled off to sulk in a corner, muttering beeps like a scolded toddler.
Harry grinned. “He’s funny.”
“He’s a menace,” Tony corrected, though his mouth twitched. “I had to revoke his fire extinguishing privileges. But, y’know, he kinda saved my life, so… he’s family.”
Harry glanced at Dum-E, then back at Tony, his smile small but thoughtful.
“Anyway,” Tony said quickly, clapping his hands. “I say we save the lab for later and hit the surf. We can see how StarkPup does in the water and make adjustments later if needed. Deal?”
Harry’s smile widened. “Sounds good to me, Tony.”
---
The beach stretched wide and bright, waves rolling in lazy arcs against the shore. Harry dropped his towel on the sand and was already tugging his sneakers off, StarkPup yapping electronically at the gulls like he was ready to start World War III.
“Hold up, Speed Racer,” Tony called, rummaging in the bag they’d prepped. “We’re not skipping the most important step.”
Harry groaned. “Sunscreen?”
“Bingo. If I don’t cover you in lotion, the California sun’s gonna roast you faster than a Stark Industries prototype.”
That got him a giggle, but Harry obediently peeled off his shirt, plopping down in the sand. Tony crouched beside him, bottle in hand, ready with another joke—until the breath caught in his throat.
Across Harry’s back, pale skin was marred by angry lines and faint welts, some thin and long, others mottled like burns that had faded but never vanished. The kind of scars no child should have.
For a moment, Tony froze. His grip on the bottle tightened until the plastic crinkled. He forced his face blank before Harry noticed.
Too late. The kid shifted, glancing over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Tony shook himself, snapping back into motion, spreading the sunscreen across narrow shoulders with careful, steady hands. “Nothing, bud. Just… thinking about whether StarkPup is going to short out when he hits the water.” His voice came out almost steady.
Harry didn’t push, turning forward again.
But Tony’s chest burned. Each scar screamed at him, proof of years he couldn’t erase. Proof that someone—that bastard—had left permanent marks on his kid.
He rubbed the lotion in, gentle as possible, jaw tight. I’ll find you, Vernon. One day, somehow. And you’ll pay for every line on this kid’s back.
Harry turned back with a smile once Tony finished, oblivious to the storm building behind his eyes. “All done?”
Tony forced a grin, screwing the cap back on the bottle. “All done. Go knock over some waves, kiddo.”
Harry sprinted straight for the edge of the surf, StarkPup galloping at his heels like a metal shadow.
Tony stayed crouched in the sand a moment longer, fists buried in the towel, staring at the ocean like it owed him answers.
The kid shrieked when the first wave lapped over his ankles, then laughed so hard he doubled over, splashing back at the ocean like he could fight it.
“Careful!” Tony called, jogging down behind him. “That thing’s bigger than you are!”
Harry grinned, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes bright. “It’s not so bad!”
As if on cue, StarkPup barreled into the shallows and promptly face-planted in the foam, thrashing his legs like a malfunctioning washing machine. Harry laughed again, so hard he collapsed onto his knees, water soaking his shorts.
“Pup, you’ve got the grace of a brick,” Tony muttered, wading in to haul the robot upright.
Harry helped, patting StarkPup’s side. “You’re okay. You just need practice.” His voice was gentle, encouraging in a way that made Tony’s throat tighten all over again.
By the time Tony got them both standing again, Harry was already ankle-deep in the next wave, arms spread wide like he could catch the whole ocean. StarkPup barked electronically and tried again, managing two awkward bounds before tripping face-first into the water.
Tony stood in the shallows, watching Harry dissolve into laughter, the scars on his back hidden now by the sunlight and spray. For a few minutes, the heaviness eased.
This was what Harry deserved. Salt air, awkward robot dogs, and the freedom to laugh until his ribs ached.
And Tony—well, he’d make damn sure the kid never lost it again.
---
Dinner arrived in a parade of paper bags—steam rising, salsa dripping, the smell of grilled meat and fried tortillas filling the Malibu house like incense. Tony dumped everything onto the counter and spread his arms like he’d just unveiled an invention.
“Behold,” he declared, “Mexican food. Society’s most perfect engineering.”
Harry’s eyes went round at the spread of tacos, burritos, and churros. “You… ordered all this, just for us?”
“Kid, I don’t do things halfway. Plus, leftovers. Future us will thank me.” He handed over a plate already stacked with two tacos, half a burrito, and chips. “Eat before StarkPup starts begging.”
On cue, the robot dog chirped from under the table, bumping his head against Harry’s shin.
Harry giggled, reaching down to pat the smooth metal skull. “He wants tacos too.”
“Tough luck. They were fresh out of robot-friendly food.” Tony leaned back in his chair, watching the boy bite into his taco like it was treasure. For a moment, he let the silence stretch—waves outside, the crunch of chips, Harry humming under his breath. Then, casually, he nudged the conversation where it had been tugging at him for some time.
“So, I was thinking…” He gestured with a chip at StarkPup, who was now pacing along the table like a Roomba with ambition. “What if we refined him a little? Gave him an upgrade. Less toaster-on-legs, more… dog.”
Harry froze mid-bite, eyes flicking down to StarkPup. The robot cocked his head, tail light blinking like he knew he was being talked about.
Tony kept his tone light. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the industrial chic thing he’s got going. But, you know… realistic body, maybe a tail that isn’t just an LED stick. Something you could actually hug without cutting your arm open.”
Harry chewed slowly, staring at the dog. For a long moment, Tony worried he’d said the wrong thing—that Harry would think he wanted to replace him, erase what they’d built together.
Then Harry swallowed and said softly, “As long as his code doesn’t change. We can give him a new suit.”
Relief spread through Tony’s chest so fast he had to disguise it by grabbing a burrito. “A new suit,” he echoed, grinning. “Kid, you’ve got the lingo down. That’s exactly what we’ll do.”
StarkPup barked, tried to jump into a chair, miscalculated, and promptly landed on his back. Harry snorted soda through his nose, almost choking and causing Tony to thump his back.
“First upgrade,” Tony said dryly, “balance chip 2.0.”
Harry wiped his nose, still giggling. “Deal.”
Tony sat back, letting the sound of that laughter sink into the walls of the Malibu house. He was reminded again of how far Harry had come and his heart soared.
---
By the time the churros were gone and StarkPup had been shooed away from nosing dripped salsa along the floor, Harry was yawning between giggles. Tony herded him down the hall while the boy rubbed his eyes.
He crawled into bed without hesitation, Shrek tucked against his chest, StarkPup settling loyally at his feet.
Tony crouched at his side, pulling the blanket up. “Comfy?”
“Yeah,” Harry murmured, eyes already heavy. Then, softer: “Thanks for today. I had so much fun.”
Tony smoothed his hair back, heart squeezing at how the kid leaned into the touch now. “Anytime, Harry. That’s the deal.”
Harry’s breathing evened out quickly, and Tony lingered a moment longer before slipping back down the hall.
He made his way to the lab, thoughts centered on StarkPup and what upgrades they could implement now that they had full access to JARVIS. A smoother body, sturdier legs and joints, and for the love of God, a new balance chip.
He spent an hour sketching designs for JARVIS and was contemplating going to bed when the AI interrupted him.
“Sir, Harry’s vitals have elevated again. Possible nightmare.”
Tony was already on his feet, moving before the words finished.
He quickly made his way to Harry’s room, and when he pushed the door open, the boy wasn’t thrashing—just curled tight under the blankets, fists clenched, a whimper caught in his throat. Tony sat carefully on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Harry’s eyes flew open. Not wild, not panicked. Just wide. Wet.
“Tony?” His voice cracked, but he was already reaching out.
“I’m here, kiddo.” Tony gathered him close, one arm around his back, the other rubbing circles across his narrow shoulders. Harry pressed his face into his shirt, trembling but not breaking down the way he had before. His breathing was fast, uneven—but it steadied, slowly, against Tony’s chest.
“Same dream?” Tony asked softly.
Harry gave a tiny nod. “But I woke up. Before… y’know. Before it got too bad.”
Tony swallowed the pain and pride tangling in his throat. “That’s huge, bud. That’s progress.”
Harry sniffled and he pulled back with a shy look. “Can I… can I stay with you tonight?”
Tony didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
He carried him down the hall, Shrek under one arm and Harry tucked close under the other. In his bed, Harry curled against his chest, grip fisted in Tony’s shirt like he was afraid he might leave.
Tony stared at the ceiling long after the boy drifted back to sleep, listening to the waves outside. The scars, the nightmares—they were constant reminders. But so was this. The warmth of Harry choosing to trust him.
And as long as Tony was breathing, Harry would never face those dreams—or those memories—alone again.
---
(Harry’s POV)
The smell of coffee and something vaguely sweet pulled Harry awake the next morning. For a second, blinking against the sunlight streaming through Tony’s bedroom window, he felt that old pang of disorientation—wondering if he’d dreamed it all. The waves outside. The safe warmth of Tony’s arm still draped across his shoulders.
But StarkPup’s cheerful chirp outside the door set him straight. Not a dream.
He slid carefully out of bed and padded toward the kitchen. Tony was already there, hair sticking up in every direction, flipping frozen waffles out of the toaster onto a plate. StarkPup clanked along the floor next to him.
“Morning, kiddo,” Tony said without turning. “Waffles, eggs, and the comfort of knowing that I didn’t burn anything.”
Harry giggled, climbing onto a stool. “Morning.”
Tony set a plate in front of him, then sat down across the island, sipping from his coffee mug. For a while, it was just the clink of forks and the sound of StarkPup bumping his nose against the table leg.
Harry swallowed a bite and looked up. “Tony?”
“Yeah, bud?”
“Can we… get started on StarkPup today?” He tried to sound casual, but his toes curled in his socks under the stool.
Tony’s eyes flicked up, one eyebrow arched. Then he set his mug down and grinned. “I think that’s a great idea. Eat up, kid. The lab awaits.”
Harry smiled into his waffle, relief blooming in his chest. The nightmare was completely forgotten, replaced with the promise of gears, circuits, and maybe—finally—turning StarkPup into the kind of dog who could really wag his tail.
---
The Malibu lab gleamed in the sunlight, glass walls making the whole space feel open, alive.
Harry grinned as Tony scooped StarkPup off the floor and settled him on the platform. The little robot blinked his LED eyes at him like he knew something big was coming.
“Alright,” Tony said, clapping his hands. “Today’s agenda: make Pup less toaster, more dog. Starting with balance upgrades so he quits face-planting like a malfunctioning Roomba.”
Harry stifled a laugh. “But don’t make him too heavy. If he can’t jump on the couch, it won’t feel right.”
Tony smirked. “Kid, you’re dangerously close to asking me to engineer a cuddle-bot.”
Harry shrugged, serious. “So? Dogs cuddle.”
That shut Tony up for a second, though his mouth twitched. “Fine. Weight distribution, paw pads with grip. Next: ears and tail. Real floppy ones, not those janky sticks.”
Hours blurred. JARVIS hummed diagnostics, Dum-E sulked in the corner after Tony shooed him away for bringing the wrong tool, and Harry laughed every time StarkPup tipped sideways mid-upgrade. Together they slotted in paw pads, rounded new plating, ear joints that twitched, and finally, the glowing collar Tony called the Holo-Projector.
“Moment of truth,” Tony announced. “J, light it up.”
The labs lights dimmed as a soft hum began, then the ceiling bloomed with stars. Orion stretched across the roof, constellations twinkling as if someone had spilled the night sky inside.
Harry tilted his head back, eyes wide, breath caught. “Tony… it’s like they’re really here.”
StarkPup barked proudly, tail wagging for the first time in a smooth, joyful rhythm.
Tony leaned against the bench, arms crossed, and let himself grin. “Not bad for a robot dog, huh?”
Harry smiled so wide it hurt, eyes shining in the glow of the stars. “He’s awesome.”
Tony didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
Notes:
Slowly chugging away to the move. We about to hit a fast forward and I hopeeee that's okay. We'll see xP
Chapter 21: Chapter 21
Notes:
In the midst of all this darkness and evil in the world, this fic has become an outlet for me to express some healing, happy vibes (even when things go dark) Tell your people you love them.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Tony’s POV)
The rest of their two weeks in Malibu slipped by in a rhythm Tony hadn’t realized he’d been craving. Days on the beach, StarkPup crashing face-first into the surf no matter how many balance tweaks they made. Evenings on the deck, Harry wrapped in a towel, pointing out constellations as the holo-collar painted the sky overhead.
There were pancakes burned beyond recognition, sand tracked through every inch of the house, and one memorable afternoon where Dum-E tried to “help” with sunscreen and nearly dunked half a bottle over Harry’s head. Harry had laughed so hard he’d cried, and Tony hadn’t even bothered pretending he wasn’t grinning just as wide.
It wasn’t glamorous. No press, no board meetings, no deadlines. Just ordinary moments strung together—exactly what Miriam had told him Harry needed. And, Tony had to admit, exactly what he needed too.
But vacations, like all great things, weren’t meant to last forever. By the time their return flight loomed, Tony’s brain was already tugging in a dozen directions—final adoption hearing, schooling decisions, and the gnawing itch to check in on Stark Industries projects firsthand were among the many.
Which was why, after Malibu, their flight path didn’t angle straight back across the Atlantic. Instead, Tony had one more stop planned.
“Manhattan,” he told Harry, pointing out the window as the skyline rose like steel teeth against the horizon. “Time for a tour of the concrete jungle - Stark Industries, and…” He paused, letting the anticipation build. “…our future home. Stark Tower.”
Harry pressed close to the glass, eyes going wide at the glittering skyscrapers below. StarkPup yipped from his spot on the floor, as if even he could sense the shift—something big waiting ahead.
Tony smirked, though his chest tightened with nerves he couldn’t quite joke away. Malibu had been easy. Manhattan was going to be another battlefield entirely.
---
The jet touched down just outside the city, engines winding to a purr as the skyline glittered like a circuit board in the distance. Tony watched Harry scan the city, eyes wide at the skyscrapers stacked one after another like giants. StarkPup gave a low electronic bark as the plane came to a stop.
Tony leaned back in his seat, stretching until his spine popped. Time to ruin the moment. “Hey, kiddo - heads up. Manhattan’s not Malibu. There’s a good chance we’re gonna run into paparazzi the second we step off this plane.”
Harry turned, brows creased. “You mean… more cameras? People shouting?”
“Yup.” Tony made a vague camera-click motion with his hands. “Big cameras, bigger mouths. They’ll yell, they’ll ask questions they shouldn’t, maybe even say dumb stuff just to see if you react.” He tipped his head, meeting Harry’s worried look. “And they will want a reaction.”
Harry fidgeted, hugging Shrek – the stuffed animal had clearly resonated with Harry, and Tony was grateful as ever for Rhodey. “What do I do?”
Tony’s voice softened. “You don’t do anything. You don’t owe them a word, not even a glance. Your one job is to focus on me. I’ll handle the noise. You look at me, you talk to me, like it’s just us. Got it?”
Harry hesitated, then nodded, gripping the ogre tighter. “Okay.”
Tony reached across the aisle and ruffled his hair. “Good man. And hey - don’t worry. Happy’ll be right there too. Think of it like… we’re running a gauntlet. Only difference is, this one ends with food and a tour of our future skyscraper.”
That earned him the smallest laugh, but it was enough.
The door hissed open, a rush of hot city air flooding the cabin. Even before Tony stepped down, the faint murmur of voices and the staccato click of cameras drifted up. He adjusted his sunglasses, plastered on the easy grin, and held out a hand.
“Ready, bud?”
Harry swallowed hard, then slid his small hand into Tony’s. His grip was firm.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
“Good,” Tony murmured, leading him down the stairs into the flashbulbs. “So am I.”
---
The second his shoes hit tarmac, the noise hit back. Reporters pressed against barricades, cameras flashing in strobed bursts, voices overlapping in a hungry chorus.
“Tony! Is it true you’re planning to relocate to the U.K.?”
“Mr. Stark, what does this mean for Stark Industries’ leadership?”
“Kid—hey, kid! Harry! Look over here!”
Harry flinched at the last one, fingers tightening around Tony’s hand. StarkPup growled loudly by their feet, LED eyes flashing red as though he wanted to take out the entire press corps.
Happy was already at their side, broad shoulders leading them through security gates before cutting a path through the crowd. Two security agents closed ranks behind them, the wall of bodies keeping anyone from getting too close.
Tony dropped his voice low, just for Harry. “Remember what I said. Eyes on me.”
Harry nodded quickly, his gaze darting up to Tony’s sunglasses instead of the barrage of cameras. His hand squeezed tight—so small, but holding on like an anchor.
Tony smirked at the reporters without slowing his stride. “You know, if I’d realized Manhattan was going to be this excited to see me, I’d have charged admission. Sorry, folks—no comment today. And back off the kid, or you’re buying me a whole new security detail.”
More shouting, more flashes. Someone barked a question about custody battles, another about whether the boy was “really his.” Tony’s smile sharpened into something dangerous, though he didn’t break stride.
“Here’s a free soundbite,” he said, his tone edged steel. “He’s mine where it counts. Write that down.”
Happy’s hand landed heavy on his shoulder, steering them toward the waiting car. The door swung open, and Tony ushered Harry inside first, shielding him from the last burst of cameras. StarkPup scrambled in after him, chirping angrily all the while.
Tony slid in last, slamming the door shut. The din outside muffled instantly, like someone had killed the power. Harry was breathing fast, chest rising and falling, Shrek was crushed in his lap.
“Hey.” Tony leaned over, lowering his sunglasses so Harry could see his eyes. “You did perfect. Eyes on me, yeah? That’s all it takes.”
Harry’s breathing slowed, bit by bit. “They were… really loud.”
“Yeah, well, New York’s never been big on volume control.” Tony smirked, softer this time. “But you handled it better than half the CEOs I know.”
That coaxed the faintest smile out of him. Harry leaned into Tony’s side, sighing softly.
Outside, the city roared. Inside, Tony thought, they’d won. No loose magic, no anxiety attack.
---
The convoy cut through midtown like a hot knife, Happy at the wheel and the city pressing in on every side. Harry stayed close, eyes darting between the skyscrapers looming overhead and StarkPup’s reflection in the tinted glass. By the time they rolled past the familiar Stark logo stamped across polished glass, Tony felt his chest tighten - not from nerves, exactly, but from the weight of stepping back into his empire with a kid at his side.
Pepper was already waiting at the front entrance, immaculate as ever in a slate-gray suit, her heels clicking against the concrete as she strode forward. She opened the car door before Happy could and crouched just enough to meet Harry’s eye.
“Harry. Welcome to Stark Industries,” she said warmly.
Harry blinked, clearly startled by the personal greeting, but he managed a small smile. “Hi, Miss Potts.”
“Pepper’s fine.” She straightened and shot Tony a look sharp enough to slice steel. “You survived the press, I see.”
“Barely,” Tony said, tugging his sunglasses off. “Kid’s a natural, though. We should put him on the board.”
Pepper’s lips twitched like she was fighting a smile. “Let’s start with a tour before you go drafting new bylaws.”
Inside, the lobby gleamed - glass, steel, and sunlight pouring down from vaulted windows. Harry’s head swiveled, taking in the towering holographic displays of arc reactors and sleek models of Stark tech. StarkPup let out a low whistle-bark, his LED tail wagging furiously as though even he was impressed.
Pepper guided them past the reception desk, into the executive floor, her voice slipping easily into professional cadence. “Here’s R&D - Tony, you’ll be pleased to know your engineers are actually ahead of schedule on the Mark VI propulsion trials. And this,” she added, pausing at a set of wide glass doors, “is the prototype design lab. Very hush-hush. No field trips without prior clearance.”
Tony smirked down at Harry. “Translation: we’ll sneak in later.”
Harry stifled a giggle, eyes wide at the rows of futuristic 3D printers and robotic arms humming inside.
Eventually, Pepper led them into a conference room with a panoramic view of midtown. Beyond the skyline, the skeletal frame of Stark Tower pierced the clouds, construction cranes braced against its rising form.
“There it is,” Tony said, his voice softening. “The future.”
Harry pressed closer to the glass, forehead nearly touching it. “That’s where we’re gonna live?” His voice was a mix of awe and disbelief.
Tony slid his hands into his pockets, studying the half-built tower. “That’s the plan, kid. Self-sustaining arc reactor, best security on the planet, a view that’ll knock your socks off every morning. All we’ll need is a decent pizza place within walking distance.”
Harry’s smile bloomed slow and wide, and for a second Tony forgot about the press, the hearings, the weight of everything waiting on his shoulders. All he saw was a boy looking at the future like it was his.
Pepper glanced between them, her expression unreadable but her eyes just a little too bright. “Shall we continue?” she asked.
Tony cleared his throat. “Yeah. Show him everything. He’s gonna inherit the place, after all.”
Harry turned to stare at him, eyes wide. Tony winked.
---
When the tour was finished, Happy shepherded Harry toward the employee café, StarkPup padding along at his heels, the sound of their chatter fading down the hall. For a moment, Tony stood at another glass wall overlooking midtown, pretending he was studying Stark Tower’s rising skeleton. Really, he was bracing.
Pepper lingered beside him, her tablet tucked neatly against her side. Finally, he said, “Okay, you’ve been doing that thing where you’re polite but too polite. Spill it.”
Her eyes cut to him, cool but not sharp. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“Pep…” He turned to face her fully, letting the grin slip. “You’ve gone from ‘I’m not sure about this whole foster thing’ to personally greeting the kid like he already owns half the building. What changed?”
Her shoulders eased, but she didn’t look at him right away. “It was never about Harry – not really. You know that.”
Tony frowned. “Didn’t always feel like it.”
“I had concerns about you,” she said evenly. “About the situation you put me in. The press, the courts, your… tendency to bulldoze everything you set your sights on. I couldn’t keep being the one to smooth it all over while also being…” She trailed off, searching for the word. “Attached.”
It hit harder than he expected, though he masked it with a tilt of his head. “So what, you’re saying you’re not mad anymore?”
“I was never mad at him. And I’m not mad at you… anymore.” Her voice softened. “But I can’t be in a relationship with you, Tony. Not when I feel like I’m holding my breath waiting for the next fire to put out. I want to be your friend. I am your friend. And I’ll be there for Harry, too. But as for us…” She shook her head gently.
Tony let the words sit. For once, he didn’t deflect with a joke. He just nodded, slow.
He looked back out at the city, then exhaled. “Friends it is, then.”
Her hand brushed his arm briefly—just enough to say I mean it—before she stepped back. “You should go find them. I can imagine Harry convincing Happy to let him buy every dessert in the café.”
Tony snorted. “Smart kid. Wonder where he gets it from.”
As he headed down the hall, he caught Pepper watching him, her expression softer than he’d seen in a long time. Not romantic. Not business. Just comfortable.
---
(Harry’s POV)
The Stark Industries café was nothing like anything he’d seen before. Bright windows stretched from floor to ceiling, and the food counters looked more like a fancy hotel buffet than anything Harry was used to. Rows of soups, sandwiches stacked neatly in baskets, trays of pasta, and - best of all - an entire dessert case glowing like treasure.
Happy nudged him forward. “Go on, kid. Whatever you want.”
Harry didn’t hesitate. After months of being with Tony, he could raid the fridge whenever he liked, even have pancakes at midnight if he really wanted. Still, the old knot of worry flickered - what if he grabbed too much? What if he wasn’t allowed to finish it? But then he glanced up and saw Happy waiting patiently, no rush, no scowl. The knot loosened.
He grabbed a turkey sandwich, a bag of chips, a juice, and two desserts before his nerves could talk him out of it.
Happy raised an eyebrow. “Starting strong.”
Harry shrugged, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Tony says dessert is mandatory.”
Happy barked a laugh. “He would.”
They were halfway through their sandwiches when Tony appeared, sliding into the seat across from Harry with a tray balanced on one hand like a circus act. “Didn’t think you’d leave me out of the fun, did you?”
Harry smirked, emboldened. “You’re late. We already got the best desserts.”
Tony’s gaze flicked to the two mousse cups on Harry’s tray, then back up with mock offense. “Two? You’re telling me you’re out here stealing my bit?”
Harry popped a chip in his mouth, smirking. “Guess so.”
Happy snorted while Tony clutched his chest dramatically. “Et tu, Harry?”
For a little while, it was just food and chatter. Happy told a story about Tony’s disastrous first attempt at flying which ended with him crashing through three floors of the Malibu house, until Tony cut in, insisting it was a graceful landing. Harry giggled into his mousse, watching them argue like it was the funniest thing in the world.
By the time his tray was empty, Harry realized he’d forgotten to feel nervous about all the people or the noise of the city outside.
It just felt… normal.
---
(Tony’s POV)
By the time Harry scraped the last of the mousse cups clean, Tony figured it was the perfect moment to raise the stakes.
“Alright, kiddo,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “dessert quota met. You ready to visit where we’ll be living one day?”
Harry blinked, spoon halfway to his mouth. “You mean the tower?”
Tony grinned. “The very one. C’mon, hard hats and all.”
---
The car ride was short, but Harry’s silence stretched the entire time. His nose was practically glued to the window when the skyline broke and Stark Tower rose ahead—still raw steel and cranes, but already dominating the block like it owned the place.
At the site gate, Happy handed them both bright orange hard hats. Tony shoved his on with a dramatic sigh. “Kid, I’m warning you, safety gear does nothing for my jawline.”
Harry burst into laughter anyway, helmet wobbling as he tugged it onto his too-small head.
The air thrummed with drills, steel groaning, and workers shouting instructions across scaffolding. Tony kept his hand steady on Harry’s shoulder, guiding him past buzzing forklifts until they reached a viewing platform.
Harry gripped the railing, eyes huge. “It’s… massive.”
“And it’s not even close to finished,” Tony said, gesturing toward the rising column of steel. “Right there – there’s going to be an arc reactor at the very top. Whole tower powered off it, no grid, no blackouts. Just clean energy, infinite juice. A real lighthouse in the middle of Manhattan.”
Harry tilted his head back, trying to take it all in. “And we’ll… actually live here?”
Tony looked down at him, the helmet slipping sideways on his hair, his face lit up like city lights. Something in Tony’s chest twisted, sharp and warm all at once.
“Yeah, buddy,” he said, softer than he meant to. “That’s the plan. You’ll have your own floor. Telescope, gaming setup, StarkPup-proof furniture - if that even exists.”
Happy chuckled behind them.
Harry laughed too, but his eyes didn’t leave the tower. He leaned against the rail like he was already imagining it finished - glass shining, lights on, a place that would be theirs.
Tony let the moment sit. He didn’t bother with jokes. He just stood there with his hand on Harry’s shoulder, staring at the future taking shape one beam at a time.
---
(Harry’s POV)
The car hummed quietly as they pulled away from the site, city traffic blurring past the tinted windows. Harry sat tucked against the leather seat, StarkPup sprawled half across his lap, the hard hat still wobbling on his head because he hadn’t bothered to take it off yet.
He pressed his head back against the seat and let the thought tumble over and over in his mind: Tony was building a tower, a place for both of them, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Like Harry belonging there was a given.
His gaze drifted over to the man as he thought about the letter stuck to the fridge back in London. The words were sharp and formal, but they’d stuck: the Court has received and accepted the petition of Anthony Edward Stark to adopt the above-named child.
Not maybe. Not temporary. Not for now.
His chest squeezed tight.
Tony glanced up from his phone, catching him staring, and raised an eyebrow. “What’s up, kiddo?”
Harry shook his head quickly, cheeks warming. “Nothing.”
But inside, it wasn’t ‘nothing’ at all. He had been hit again with the dizzy, wonderful realization that Tony wasn’t just someone looking after him. He was going to be - actually, properly - his dad.
Harry looked back at the skyline, heart pounding in a way that wasn’t caused by fear, but hope. The future didn’t feel impossible anymore. It felt close, steady, and real.
He couldn’t wait to come back.
Notes:
Your comments continue to drive me to write more. Thank you so much for the positive reviews. I'm truly glad that I am able to bring a bit of joy to your day <3
Chapter 22: Chapter 22
Notes:
I have edited the tags and the A/N on the first chapter. Please recheck them before continuing to read to avoid any confusion about what this fic is.
Thank you.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
(Harry’s POV)
The elevator doors slid open, and the familiar scent of the penthouse - lemon polish and faint machine oil from StarkPup - washed over him. After two weeks in Malibu and a whirlwind stop in New York, it almost felt strange to be back again.
Harry tugged his suitcase inside, StarkPup whirring at his heels, tail swishing happily against the marble. He was already imagining dumping his bag and sneaking into the kitchen for biscuits before bed.
Instead, there was someone waiting.
A woman sat in the armchair near the window; saffron robes draped around her like flowing sunlight. Her head was bald, her posture impossibly straight, a porcelain cup balanced neatly in her hands. She looked perfectly at ease, as though she’d been there for ages.
StarkPup trotted forward, tail wagging furiously like he was greeting an old friend.
Harry’s breath caught. His hands curled into fists. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he whispered.
The woman smiled faintly.
---
(Tony’s POV)
Tony wrestled his suitcase out of the elevator behind Harry, muttering about jet lag, when he caught sight of the robes. He stopped dead.
Bald. Calm. Sitting in his living room like she owned the lease.
Every nerve in him bristled.
Harry tensed beside him. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he whispered.
“Yup, sorry, robes,” Tony snapped, striding forward automatically to block Harry with his body. “You’re trespassing. Comic-Con’s down the block. Try Hall C.”
The woman set her cup down on the side table with maddening serenity. “I am the Ancient One. I have come to speak of the boy’s gifts.”
Tony’s agitation, if possible, only grew. “Yeah? I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. The only gifts Harry’s got are none of your business. Get. Out.”
Her gaze was steady, her voice calm, and she plowed on. “Without guidance, his power will harm him. And, in time, the world.”
Tony’s mouth curled into something sharp and his voice was like steel. “Whatever ‘power’ he’s got, it’s my business, not yours. I’m the parent, not you. End of story.”
“Mr. Stark,” she said, tilting her head ever so slightly, “you are a man of science. You cannot hope to teach what you do not understand.”
“JARVIS, send me a suit,” Tony said. “Last warning, baldy. Leave, or I make you leave.”
The woman began walking toward them, and Tony pushed Harry all the way behind him.
“Do not mistake my calm for permission to insult, Mr. Stark,” She said serenely.
Before he could retort, she lashed out, striking him lightly in the chest with an open palm - the world lurched. His stomach turned inside out - then suddenly he was staring at himself, his own body frozen a few feet away. His hands were translucent, weightless, untethered.
“Oh, hell no.” The words echoed oddly, hollow in this new space. “Put me back. Now.”
A flick of her wrist - and Tony slammed back into his body, stumbling a step. His heart thundered. He hated how rattled he felt.
The Ancient One folded her hands. “The boy needs training. I am offering my knowledge and guidance of the mystic arts. He should not fear his abilities, nor should he be allowed to continue suffering from raw surges of power.”
Okay, so she might be the real deal. Someone who could explain and help Harry with whatever was going on. A glint of light from the terrace pulled his gaze away – his suit, ready and waiting.
Tony steadied his breathing, his voice low but hard, hoping he wasn’t going to regret his decision. “Fine. But he stays here. He’s not leaving my sight. You teach him here, with me in the room.”
---
(Harry’s POV)
Harry hadn’t moved from where he stood, suitcase still clutched in his hand. His chest was tight, his heart fluttering like a trapped bird.
The woman turned her gaze on him, and something about it made his knees feel weak—not harsh, not unkind, but as though she could see everything inside him.
“Child,” she said softly. “There is great strength in you. But strength without balance is dangerous. Together, we will learn to steady it.”
Harry swallowed hard. He wanted to ask her to explain, to ask what she was really here for. But all he managed was a shaky nod.
StarkPup pressed against his shin, LED eyes glowing a steady blue, his presence grounding.
He’d only just begun to believe that he could stay here – that Tony really wanted him.
He wasn’t sure he was ready for whatever she wanted to teach him.
Not when he’d only just started to believe in having a home.
---
(Tony’s POV)
The air still felt heavy after she’d shoved him out of his body. Tony didn’t like admitting how shaken he was, but the tremor in his hands wouldn’t quit. She hadn’t hurt him, but he knew she probably could, and his ego was definitely bruised.
He forced himself to kneel, putting himself level with Harry, blocking out the saffron robes and the calm, waiting stare.
“Hey.” His voice came out soft. “You good, kiddo?”
Harry’s grip on StarkPup’s metal was white-knuckled. His eyes flicked toward the woman, then back to Tony. “I… I don’t know.”
Tony pressed his palm against Harry’s shoulder, steady, warm. “Here’s the deal. She wants to teach you… about the magic stuff. But that only happens if you want it. You say no, that’s it. End of story. You’re not getting dragged into anything you don’t choose.”
Harry blinked, startled. “I… I get to choose?”
“Yeah,” Tony said firmly. “You’re the boss of your own life, kiddo. If you’re not ready, she can pack up her tea and go back to her temple, or spaceship, or wherever bald mystics hang out these days.”
That earned him the tiniest flicker of a smile. Harry’s chest rose and fell in a shaky breath, and finally he gave a small nod. “I… I think I want to try. Just -” His throat bobbed. “Not if it means leaving you.”
Tony’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone steady. “You’re not going anywhere, Harry.” He ruffled his hair lightly, then stood, turning back toward their uninvited guest.
He squared his shoulders, crossing his arms. “Alright, robes. You agree to my conditions? You teach him in this penthouse, with me in the room. And if he ever decides he’s done, he’s done.”
The Ancient One inclined her head, utterly unruffled. “So long as he learns, I do not care where the lessons are held. I will abide by your conditions.”
Her gaze flicked to Harry again, warm and piercing all at once. “But remember - this path is not about comfort. Growth never is.”
Tony bristled but didn’t back down. “You don’t have to tell me about uncomfortable growth spurts, lady. I built an empire off them. But Harry’s not doing this alone.”
She regarded him for a long moment, then tilted her head in agreement.
Tony wasn’t about to relax, but he was willing to let the tension drop one notch. Enough to unclench his fists. He moved to the living room and perched on the edge of the couch, still angled so Harry stayed in his line of sight.
The Ancient One sat primly in a recliner and took another sip of tea. “There are more than my teachings to consider. The boy will need lessons beyond the mystic arts - literature, arithmetic, history. Structure grounds a child.”
Tony’s jaw ticked. “He’s already got a school. Good teachers, steady friends. We’re not pulling him out just because a woman in robes showed up uninvited.”
Her expression didn’t change, but there was a glint of something in her eyes that almost felt like amusement. “I do not propose removal. But his future will take him beyond this city, beyond this country, no? When you return to America, he should not lose months of his education.”
Tony frowned, because damn it, she wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, we’re headed back to New York eventually. I’ve got the tower, Stark Industries, and a life to maintain. Which means he’ll need a school there.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Been trying not to think about how messy that’s gonna get.”
“I can ease that burden,” the Ancient One said calmly. “For the months you remain here, I will bring tutors - ordinary ones, not mystics. They will come and go discreetly. Harry will keep pace with his peers, so that when the transition comes, he will not falter.”
Harry’s head snapped up at that. His brow pinched. “Like… after I get home from school? Here, in the penthouse?”
The Ancient One inclined her head. “Yes. Nothing will be forced. But learning will keep you steady, just as much as meditation or breathing.”
Tony looked down at Harry. “What do you think, kiddo? You okay with that? A few tutors so you don’t fall behind when we move back stateside? You get final say.”
Harry hesitated, glancing between them. His voice was small but steady. “As long as I can still go to school with George and Lucy.”
Tony felt his chest tighten, then ease. He ruffled Harry’s hair again. “Yeah, bud. That’s non-negotiable. This would just be extra learning.”
Harry nodded, some of the worry draining from his face. StarkPup yipped happily, which made him smile.
Tony turned back to the Ancient One, voice edged with dry steel. “Fine. Tutors are in, as long as they’re vetted, and no one’s trying to recruit him to some magic school in… wherever you’re from. You want to teach him breathing exercises and sparkly tricks while he keeps up with algebra? Knock yourself out. But we do it my way. Here. With me watching.”
The Ancient One inclined her head again, as if she’d gotten exactly what she wanted. “Then we are agreed.”
---
(Harry’s POV)
Harry leaned against Tony, the tension in his chest loosening bit by bit. Before the man had taken him in, nobody had asked him - not really - if he wanted to learn something, or if he wanted more from school. It was always do this, do that, don’t ask questions.
But Tony had looked right at him, waited for his answer, and then backed him up without blinking.
Harry let out a small breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
StarkPup bumped his shin, tail ticking, and Harry bent down to scoop him onto the couch. Maybe tutors wouldn’t be so bad. Not if it meant sitting with George and Lucy in class, and still coming home to Tony.
Still being asked what he wanted.
The idea of learning how to control his magic sparked a flicker of excitement in his chest and suddenly, he wasn’t so worried.
---
(Tony’s POV)
Tony leaned against the doorframe, arms folded and smiling, watching Harry fumble with his pajamas. The kid was yawning every thirty seconds but still trying to wrestle his shirt over his head like it was an opponent in a boxing ring.
“Need a hand, bud?” Tony asked.
Harry’s muffled voice emerged from inside the cotton. “Got it!” He popped his head through with triumph, hair sticking out like a dandelion.
Tony smirked. “Stylish. Very avant-garde.”
Harry rolled his eyes but grinned as he climbed into bed. StarkPup hopped up beside him, metal paws clinking faintly against the frame.
Tony sat on the edge, careful not to squash the sheets. “So... you’ve got a couple weeks of freedom left. Then it’s back to school on September first.”
Harry pulled the blanket to his chin, expression thoughtful. “I’m glad. I missed George and Lucy.”
“Yeah?” Tony asked softly.
Harry nodded. “Things feel… kinda normal? Like everything didn’t change too much.” He hesitated, then added, “But at the same time, I know that they have. I mean-“ His fingers worried the edge of the blanket. “The hearing’s coming, right?”
Tony’s chest tightened, but he forced his tone to stay easy. “Middle of September. That’s the one that makes everything official.”
Harry peeked up at him, eyes wide despite his sleepiness. “And then… I’ll really be yours?”
Tony swallowed, then reached out to smooth Harry’s wild hair. “Kid, you’ve been mine since the day we walked out of that children’s home together. The court’s just catching up. But yeah - the hearing will finalize the adoption.”
Harry’s face softened into something so bright Tony had to look away for a second.
“And then training?” Harry asked after a beat. “With… her. And the tutors?”
Tony huffed. “That too. Just remember, you don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You’ll go to school, play with your friends, keep sticking projects on the fridge. And yeah, maybe you’ll learn how to make the magic less explode-y.” He nudged Harry’s shoulder gently. “One step at a time.”
Harry smiled, a little drowsy now. “Okay.”
Tony stood, tugging the blanket a little tighter around him. “Alright, kiddo. Good night,” he said, hesitating a beat. “I love you.”
Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, voice already slurring with sleep. “’Night, Tony. Love you.”
Tony lingered a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. He reached out and brushed his knuckles lightly over StarkPup’s head, the bot whirring softly in response.
Notes:
Bad news/ good news. Bad news: I'm gonna have to stop writing for a second (probably?) I have to move, again, and it's a really big one this time. Like, 4800 miles big. I'm leaving in about 8-9 days, and I won't be settled until mid-October. Good news is, I have up to chapter 31 written. If I post once a week, I should have more than enough content to hold over until I can start writing again. Chapter lengths are varying wiiiiiiildly, sometimes showing a day in great detail, sometimes showing a few months. I *hope* it continues to read well, cause I think I've done it justice, but I will be listening closely to feedback over the next few weeks to see if I need to change anything going forward. ANYWAYS...
Thanks so much for all your comments, as usual. It genuinely makes my day (especially my repeat commenters, y'all know who you are <3)
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