Work Text:
It was a Friday, approximately seven fifteen in the afternoon at Stark Tower. A small, older woman of fifty-five sat behind a desk on the first floor. Her blue eyes held nothing but boredom as she flicked through the pages of her magazine. Boring, but calm. Content, almost. Until the phone rang.
"Please state your name and reason for calling," the woman demanded in a professional, strict tone.
"Harry Potter-Black and I'm calling because I have reason to believe my father is Anthony Stark."
"Okay, please wait," Maria Miller put the young man, Harry Potter-Black, on hold and groaned. Her boss, Tony Stark, has always had many people claiming they were his children or their kids were his. Everyone was issued a test by a trusted fellow man, Bruce Banner. However, Pepper always insisted on being present, as Bruce wasn't the friendliest at times. Which was why she was calling Pepper at the moment, not at all surprised when the woman rushed downstairs to pick the phone up. No matter how many times it would happen, Pepper always rushed to get the necessary work. It had improved after they got married, but sometimes it still kicked in. Especially after they lost their first child, and then their second, before finding out that Pepper was not fertile.
"Hello, this is Pepper Potts, to whom am I speaking?"
Maria didn't hear what the voice answered, yet she was not at all surprised at the sudden authority Pepper took on once speaking to the male.
Maria could tell that there was something different about this one. Maybe it was intuition. Maybe it was just a guess. Maybe it was the seer in her or the squib. Maybe, just maybe, Harry Potter-Black was the son of Tony Stark.