Chapter Text
All of Hermione's plans were in ruin. The variables she now had to consider were:
One. Kingsley was retiring—it was still early in the year, the elections were in December—and Theodor Nott had an upcoming press conference, addressing his stand in the elections.
Two. Lavender was living in the house Hermione and Ron had bought together. Living the life that Hermione should be living. A life Lavender took too easily.
Three. Tony Stark was her neighbour.
And four. Hermione had to really get the ball rolling. She did not have three years to sort out her life anymore.
Her plans must change, Hermione determined as she staggered outside the Ministry after talking to Kingsley, tightly clutching the Binding Notice. She stared at the paper for a long time, contemplating. Rain trailed down her face unnoticed as she read the Binding Notice over and over again. Cold fury settled over her. Ron had to be sorted. He turned her life into a laughingstock with the press and therefore made her job that much harder. Made her goals difficult. Shadows licked her skin from the dull light of the streetlamp, balefully morphing her face. By the time fingers became cold and eyes blurry, Hermione did not know what time it was. Briefly looking to the dark sky, thunder clapped as she pivoted on the spot, disappearing.
Standing outside the magical boundary line at Upper Flagley for the second time that day, Hermione critically examined the home. It was quiet. Only the soft flicker of the telly was the lone indication of life. Hermione's hands caressed the low-lying fence. Its symbolism ironic under her touch as she unlatched the white gate, walking home for the last time.
The fading wards tickled her skin roughly as if someone modified them. Her blood however soaked the earth to make them, therefore they were weak and easy to ignore. Pausing her descent at seeing a large silhouette moving from the lounge room to the kitchen, the open refrigerator lit the room aglow, Hermione cautiously continued down the cobblestone path when the silhouette finally retook refuge in the living room. Hermione's saturated clothes clung stubbornly as she advanced upon the front door. Lips pulled back in pain, teeth bearing at touching the doorknob. The stinging intensified as the door unlocked and opened. Blood oozed from her fingertips when she let go – the wind caught the door, opening further like a cold welcome.
Closing the door behind her, she muttered a healing spell and scowled when the spell did not work. A squeak of the couch from the loungeroom made Hermione move. Fast.
"What the fuck is this!" Hermione snapped, holding up her bloodied hand. There was a moment when blue eyes met brown. Hermione almost caved. The sweet nothings. The fights. The life they shared. The future they could have had. Until she realised, she was staining the floor.
The Betrayal.
The years wasted.
She could have been something by now.
She pushed back her goals for Minister for him. To start a family with him.
Her old, soft armchair was next to her with a very girly blanket thrown over the armrest. She snatched up the blanket and applied pressure to her wound. Ron flung off the couch. A bottle of beer sitting on the armrest fell to the floor with the sudden movement. It pooled at Ron's feet in a frothy mess. He, unsurprisingly, was tipsy.
"Why are you back!" Ron shouted. His face reddened.
Hermione slowly looked up from the bottle. "Aren't you going to clean that up before it stains?"
Ron's face turned purple while spluttering, "No—" he kicked the bottle across the floor "—Answer me!"
She wanted to slap him. To scream, curse and cry. To react the way she wished she had when she found Ron and Lavender in bed together. Mother's teachings be damned. This situation did not call for a lady. She dropped the blanket, pulled out her wand and paused. The paper crumpling in her other hand cleared the noise in her head. Stopped her from doing anything stupid. She had an image to mend these days.
"Ron Weasley—" Hermione said as she marched over to the largest wall in the room "— as you have gone against our divorce terms, you have ninety days to pay out my half of the house or I will own everything," Hermione hissed, slamming the paper on the Livingroom wall.
Faintly Hermione heard movement from the bedroom – the sound of bare feet padding across the floor. Without pause, white-knuckled, her wand hand slowly turned inwards while muttering the Binding Notice incantation. Trickles of silvery light seeped from the written words. She waited until the light leaked over the edges of the paper and onto the wall before removing her hand. The light spread out like vines, slithering to ensnare the house. An hourglass larger than Ron stretched across the wall behind Hermione, counting down to ninety days. Its grains of sand the same ominous light as the vines.
"Fuck, Hermione! What have you done!" Ron yelled. The vines licked his skin, wanting to push him out. He flicked his feet, feeling like ants were crawling over them. A mild irritation that would get worse closer to the date.
"What I should have done a long time ago," she responded in mild interest, watching the vines stretch to the hallway connected to the bedroom.
As the bedroom door opened, a look overcame Hermione when the first vine licked the foot that toed outside. Like a snake striking, other vines latched onto the foot, and then to the other foot when it also touched the ground.
Lavender's face was at first surprised before something between disgust and fright overtook with a little scream. Lavender hated bugs, just like Ron hated spiders. It would be maddening for them to live in this house. Hermione would be a liar to say she did not get any joy from their jittery movements.
"You'll regret this," Ron breathed hotly. It was the angriest Hermione had ever seen him.
Hermione snapped back very quickly, "I already do. I regret marrying you, Ron." She flicked her wand one last time, cleaning up the mess on the floor from Ron's beer and her blood.
Poignantly, Hermione said, "Goodbye."
When Hermione woke up, she did not care about the construction sounds that bleared throughout her sleep. She still went through her morning ritual. Have breakfast. Brush teeth. Shower. Dress. She flooed to work at fifty-four pass six, United Kingdom time and walked through her office door at seven, sharp. She also did not care that it smelt like rain as soon as she stepped out of the floo in the Ministry or that the sky rumbled. She had work to do.
For the next few months, Hermione was seen at any and every function repairing her tattered name, working crowds and restabilising herself within the magical community. Showing what she stood for as a potential candidate in the upcoming election. Today was one of those slow days where she was a pencil pusher. The quarterly executive committee meeting was being held and she drew the short stick – she was the note taker today. The meeting could not end sooner as she felt a tingling sensation at the back of her head. Someone had entered her yard. The warning sensation of her wards were insistent during the meeting. Tapping her fingers, looking at the clock, she only had thirty minutes left.
Thirty long minutes.
As soon as the clock struck five, she was out the door without saying bye to anyone and in the floo. Tumbling out her fireplace, she ran like a drunk elephant at first, trying to gain her footing. Running down the stairs, she flew outside, her screen door smacking against the side of her house in an angry rattle. Standing in the middle of her yard, she stilled, hand close to her pocketed wand encase of trouble.
Deeming the person was long gone, she went to investigate if anything was amiss, almost instantly going to the greenhouse to check the locks. This was the third time this month. She didn't need this distraction; especially if she was at a press conference or interview. She hoped it was just some kids going on adventures in the neighbourhood and not someone trying to stick their nose into her business. Hells, someone finding out where she lived and trying to find dirt on her. She knew Nott could be slippery. He was one of Malfoy's friends after all.
Hermione was doing alright considering the accelerated time frame she had to deal with. The only hiccup so far had been when she met with a wealthy benefactor. He wasn't quite on board with her campaign to become a partner. Nonetheless, Hermione wasn't overly worried. Money wasn't essential as she had enough time to primarily self-promote as long as nothing hit the press that was damning. She had enough functions and galas on her upcoming schedule to find people with the same values and ideas who had money and power.
She just had to be smart. And Hermine Granger is known for being smart.
"FRIDAY, what was I doing again?" Tony asked.
"Boss, you were snooping around Miss Granger's house," his AI responded.
Tony waved his hand around in dismissal. "Snooping is such a strong word—I'd like to say getting to know my neighbour better."
"Sure, boss."
"Anyway, what happened? I can't remember. Why am I back in my house, turning off the stove when I don't cook?" Tony asked in wonderment.
His AI took a while before responding, "I don't know, boss. One minute you jumped her fence and the next when I rebooted, you were halfway across your lawn, talking about the stove."
Tony frowned.
"Tell me when she gets home."
He sat on the couch half nodding off, finally having a scheduled break—his AI was filling Pepper's role. Sleep eluded him the best of times. His nights have been progressively worse with nightmares. He had been using BARF to analyse his night terrors and trying to work through them. It was like his own little psychiatrist. Between that and building new suits his bedsheets had seen little warmth of his body. With Pepper gone he didn't need to pretend everything was fine. With her gone, he also needed a loose schedule to make sure he did not die from overdoing it. There was one day, at two in the morning, were FRIDAY forced a power outage in his garage. The reasoning being Tony hadn't eaten anything for over nine hours. FRIDAY noticed his vitals were all over the place.
Apart from that, he was ok. He was ok being single. He was ok with this kid slinging over New York, pretending to be a hero—though the kid did need guidance. He was ok with virtual meetings with the avengers who were in the new building upstate and with the minister too. He, however, was a bit reclusive. And bored. Happy was in New York with Pepper and… well he hadn't had anyone over to his newly constructed home in Malibu. He forgot how big it was and how peaceful it was not being in the centre of a city. Food took longer to be delivered, though.
"Boss, it appears Miss Granger has returned home."
"She's early today. When did she get back?."
There was a pause. "I don't know, boss."
Tony frowned. "Did something fry? You're buggy again. Run another diagnostic."
Tony Stark's new neighbour was odd. She went outside at odd times and the lights in the house were on at times when any sane person should not be up. She also had a new cat that liked to trespass, sneaking to the pool area and sunbaking. There was also the little itty-bitty problem where her land was a blackspot. FRIDAY could see extraordinarily little on her plot of land and therefore meters onto his land. It was a huge security risk. Part of his underground garage was unusable. He wondered if the missile had something else in it to make a quarter of his land unusable.
"FRIDAY? How do people become friendly with their neighbour?" Tony asked, eyeing the house next door, remembering how he awkwardly attempted small talk the other day with the fence between them when he heard swearing on her side. As he said he's been lonely, and he needed to figure out the blackspot. She, of course, could not chat as she had to get a Band-Aid. Her British accent skittish.
"Top results suggest doing similar activities as them such as frequenting the same gym or cafe," FRIDAY said very matter of a fact.
Tony frowned. "Nah, that's not going to get the results I want quick enough. What's the best way to get into their house?"
There was a pause. "The results say that is trespassing, boss."
Tony waved away the criticism. "Give me something, FRIDAY."
"Well, one thing does suggest becoming friendly by bringing cooked goods when you've made too much. Invite them over and hope they return the favour."
"I don't cook," Tony sighed in frustration.
"Another suggestion is having a housewarming party—"
"You know what, that actually might work," Tony said and started pacing.
"Boss, shall I book the caterers and send invites—"
"—what," Tony cut FRIDAY off, "Oh, no parties. But I do need to place an order.
The delivery arrived. He hunted around for a casserole dish, knowing people often used them to cook with, swearing Pepper left one when he packed the Avenger's tower, and placed the food inside.
The walk down his driveway took longer than expected. If his neighbour hadn't put up a fence it would have been much quicker to her door—the back door that is, but still, her door. "FRIDAY, get a golf cart or something. Maybe one of those small electric cars. Hell, even a Segway."
"Yes, boss," Friday responded.
His neighbour had tall hedges and a stereotypical white picket fence. Tony frowned from the obscured view. He could not see much into the front yard. Only the tidy cobblestone path that led to a small porch and a red door stood out against the white timber house. It was quaint for a relatively new house.
As he moved towards the door, he noticed the immaculate garden and tried asking FRIDAY what some of the plants were but there was no response. He rolled his shoulders, stretched the kinks out of his neck and adjusted the collar of his shirt before knocking. He was going in alone.
"Long time no see, Neighbourino," Tony said with all smiles and charm once the door opened. His neighbour was tiny. "Huh. Didn't actually think you'd be this short," he said and quickly continued, "I made too much, Pipsqueak. Thought you might like some," Tony said, bustling inside without his tiny neighbour getting a say.
He hustled down the hallway. "Your house is bigger than it appears. Nice view. Mind giving me a tour?" He finished off, plonking onto the couch and haphazardly holding out the dish.
"Thank you. Yes, please, do come in," Tony's little neighbour bit out when she finally made her way into the room.
"Thank you for your kind hospitality," he chirped in response to her snark, amused.
Just before she could take the dish from his hand, he grabbed a burger and took a bite. "As you can see, I definitely made these. I'm great like that," he said in between bites. He followed her to the kitchen and sat on a barstool. "Super multiskilled, I am."
Her eyes were dark. Darker than his. Her head tilted in such a curious way that made her unnerving eyes seem harmless. He did not miss her calculating him. She did not smile. If anything, she frowned. She popped the food into the fridge.
"Shame. Cheeseburgers don't reheat well," he commented in mock sadness.
"Why are you here," she said very straightforwardly. Which was refreshing.
She was in some very practical office clothes, the suit jacket he noticed was thrown over the couch's headrest and her blouse was half untucked. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in a maddening way. Another refreshing image—Pepper was always immaculate and put together. It would be good to know his neighbour. She was appealing. If one could be when all prickly.
"Getting to know my new neighbour, of course," he said. "Odd time to not be at work. Most office jobs would have already started," he noted.
"I'm getting ready," she said huffily, not denying her type of job.
He knew she was lying. He had been waiting for her since early hours to come home. He also noticed the worn wrinkles and coffee stain on her top. He'd been keeping tabs to know when he could sneak into her yard. She had a very nocturnal schedule. An unheard-of schedule for office work.
She could be with HYDRA or hell, Justin Hammer.
"Sure, whatever you say Catwoman," he said and jumped off the stool. "So how about that tour?"
He very much showed himself around without her. Which was also odd. Either she was very trusting or had nothing to hide. Or both. She eventually caught up with him outside with a cup of tea.
"So British," he smirked.
She ignored his remark, "Find what you were after?"
He squinted at her. "No." He did not accept the tea until she placed it on the round table near the fence line. He took a sip, narked. His neighbour was perhaps just a normal person. Nothing about her place was unusual. Nothing. Apart from having outdated electronics. She needed a computer upgrade desperately—the thing she had was something from the nineties. Dinosaur. He wanted to burn it. He was back to square one on figuring out the blackspot.
"Thanks." He decided to be nice. "Sorry about the intrusion, it's just my electronics near your house have been going haywire. I've been trying to figure out why."
By the time he turned to see her reaction, she was oddly pale. She had a shaky smile. "How odd—" she stirred her tea "—I don't know how I could help, considering your Tony Stark, but I will try to help in whatever way you need."
And help she did by allowing him over without much fanfare. He went to her house at odd times, always in a different form of transportation. With food, always claiming he made it when he obviously didn't.
One day, after rollerblading over, of all things, he commented with huff about her fence that divided their properties, saying "Don't be surprised your fence here someday turns into a gate."
She allowed him to prattle on, always observing, eventually gardening not too far away. She always had steaming hot tea to end his hunt. She also mentioned—threatened—to not damage her plants when he started digging. It was a semblance of normal that he needed in his usually chaotic life, especially with him travelling to New York more.
When Tony Stark saw his slip of a neighbour at one of the government's conventions, he was tickled surprised. Especially by who she was talking to—the president of America—and that they seemed to be on quite friendly terms.
"FRIDAY, look into my neighbour again."
"Which one, boss? Genning's from across the road? Smith who's adjacent from—"
"Don't give me cheek, FRIDAY."
"I don't have cheeks, boss."
Tony wanted to roll his eyes in exasperation. "Granger. Look up Hermione Granger."
"Certainly, boss."
Tony swears there was mirth in the AI's voice.
Hermione had a backup plan. Always had a backup plan. Just like in fifth year when one of their own members snitched about DA meetings in the Room of Requirement. This backup plan was going to be established tonight. It was one of the rare galas in America where important magic and muggle folks all got together and splashed money on a good cause.
Tonight allowed her to get into the ear of the president of Magical Congress and his understudy, Samuel G. Quahog. She also found some remarkably interesting news about the president of America, Matthew Ellis, who was a squib.
It was a very frivolous backup plan, though.
Breath tickled her neck, "Fancy seeing you here."
Goosebumps prickled Hermione's skin. She turned around to face the person behind. Tony. She had to tilt her head to look at him—he was very, very close.
"Well, hello to you too," she said coyishly.
"Who knew. Without mud, pyjamas, or hair in disarray, you clean up delightfully. I almost forgot how hot your accent was."
"You're incorrigible," she said plainly, trying to deflect her awkward feelings. She took a sip of wine. "You saw me yesterday."
"Yesterday is a long time," he quipped back.
"Aren't you dating someone?" She asked, exasperated, hoping to nip this flirting in the butt. She would not be the other woman. Ever. When he was at her house, searching for something he would never find—she was reducing her magic, so it was hopefully seeping less into his property—they never talked about serious topics. Kept it very shallow. After all, there were magical laws. Silly laws. But still laws.
He raised an eyebrow. "It's in all the news. We broke up."
Taking his response as a slip-up on her part, she responded, "I don't follow tabloids." She was not sure how to take the news of him being single—she heard of his party days. She wondered how long he had been single.
Stark was quick as ever. "What. You don't have tv—because I know you do. What about going outside? And not to your garden." Then he got a ghastly faux face, "the internet! I know your computer is a relic but surely it's connected!"
Hermione slowly blinked, unsure of the best way to proceed. Too much lying and you were bound to be caught. At least he wasn't flirting anymore. This she could handle.
Tony Stark prattled on about dinosaurs, dark ages and how on earth she lived her life.
"I prefer to live simple," Hermione said, cutting off his tangent.
He had a very pointed look. "Ah. You're one of those hippies, right?"
Hermione cocked her head. Not sure if she should be offended.
"I mean you're always gardening." Tony wasn't trying to be offensive. Hell, his company turned green ages ago. It was just such a different lifestyle than him. He was the frontier of technology. "To not have instant access to information..." he judgingly tapered off.
"Books," Hermione gritted out with a tight face at his jab on her intelligence. "I read books."
Tony rubbed his hands together in glee, feeling like he needed popcorn. He had briefly seen her bookcase the first day inside her home but that was irrelevant. It was as if he stumbled upon one of those controversial blogs and said, "you know how many trees are cut down for one of those books you read when you could go digital?"
He was keen on her response.
"On average one tree yields enough paper for sixty-two point five books," Hermione factually shot back without a pause.
Tony Stark was surprised, carefully looking at her now. His little neighbour was a package of intrigue.
"Touché." He smirked. He offered her his elbow to join him.
"Why, thank you, kind sir," Hermione said with a very put-on smile.
"See the guy over there," Tony pointed to a slightly balding fellow off to the side, "he's been staring at you for the past ten minutes, just like how I haven't been able to keep my eyes off you tonight."
She wobbled in her heels at that response. She had not deterred his flirting at all. She paused their walk around the room and straightened her shoulders. Head held high, she said, "such a charmer."
Boldly. Unthinkingly. She pressed against him, lips brushing his ear, "I'll see you at home."
Before he could turn around to, hell, kiss her or something, she stepped away.
"You know," she said in mirth, "because we're neighbours. Have a good evening, Mr. Stark."
True to his word, his eyes never did leave her for the rest of the night.
She was not affected by his eyes every time she caught him staring. Her heart definitely did not flutter.
After all. It was just harmless flirting. Nothing serious.
Right?