Chapter Text
Harry was not a fan of the smell of antiseptic. Years of getting beat up by his relatives, getting into spats and getting cuts and bruises by experimenting with his abilities while not receiving any proper medical care, made him sensitive to the overwhelming scent of rubbing alcohol, and desensitized him from the pain itself. Making it so that he didn't see the point in the whole ritual of receiving medical care when he could take care of himself, his magic always making sure that it's host was protected.
That being said, Hermione, when Ron worriedly pointed out the signs of Harry's apathy to pain, always made sure that Harry had known the art of making healing potions, even when a greasy old git was breathing down his neck, he always made sure to remember the basics.
Sitting on the cotton examination bed, he could calmly assess the face of the one and only 'Dr Banner'. A man who looked to be starting his 40s with curly, dark brown hair and walnut eyes. Walking around with a calm expression on his face, and an air of practiced patience. He was the guy that had looked at Loki with a sort of indifference and had given Harry a what could have been a reassuring smile, if not for the fact that he stood with a rather tense posture.
Harry didn't respond well to 'reassuring smiles'. They usually meant that there was something someone thought he needed to be reassured from, but Harry had learned to deal with things on his own a long time ago.
"Can you clench your first, please?"
He clenched the carefully chosen left arm, so that the hand formed a tight fist.
The awfully synthetic light bounced of off Dr Banner's rectangular glasses as he kicked his black swivel chair to sit at Harry's side. His eyes flicked towards him.
"And how old did you say you were?"
Harry did his best to avoid eye contact, instead he focused on his scruffy, worn out sneakers.
"I didn't say anything, I'm sixteen since June. How long is this going to take?"
"Well, normally this kind of test would have taken a few weeks, but thanks to Mr. Stark's private laboratory we'll know in a matter of seconds." He paused. "You said you're sixteen, right? If I may ask, why did you come forward now? Most people would have appreciated support in that kind of situation. Why didn't your mom come when she found out that she was pregnant?"
Despite wearing glasses, Harry was not that blind. He could see that Stark was rich.
First clue was the humongous tower.
Second clue was the private lab.
Third hint was this little guy (he was taller that Harry but whatever) clearly asking:
"Mate, why does your mum want money now?"
Harry had been in tougher situations but, still, the urge to confront and fight, defend his dead mum's honor was strong.
He tried to give a polite smile. The one that Brits were known for that said:
Come on, ask me anything. Trod on my toes. It's not like I want to do anything violent to you.
"My mum could support herself perfectly fine, thanks. My dad, James, was perfectly aware of the situation and adopted me first chance he could. I couldn't have asked for a better father."
Thankfully Dr. Banner was smart enough to drop the conversation and finish drawing blood into a plastic syringe. He then proceeded to drip a drop of blood into a little rectangular slide with the moves of an experienced scientist. Harry watched carefully as Banner walked across the room to a chunky, black computer. The blood slide was slid into a side compartment that looked much like the CD player in Vernon's car. A white loading bar appeared on the screen.
Adrenaline rushed through Harry's veins as he watched the loading bar fill up from left to right in about fifteen seconds. He never doubted that his dead mother would lie to him, but he didn't really know what would happen next. Information, text, words scrolled onto the screen, surely some of it could be proved to be important, maybe not vital but precious. Despite this, he couldn't force his eyes to focus on anything else but:
. DNA 57.5% MATCH .
Banner cleared his throat. A distant noise in the background.
"Well, uh, I suppose you'll want to meet him? Tony should be in the building right now, so we can get you settled in fairly quickly. Unless of course you need to get back to your mum."
Harry ripped his eyes from machine.
Settle in. Please.
"My parents are dead."
Banner smiled a sad smile. The kind of pity Harry didn't want or appreciate.
"If there's one thing Tony is known for - aside from the obvious - it's his heart. Literal and figurative. I'm sure that if we explain the situation thoroughly with no lies or tricks then he'll be more than happy to lend a helping hand and take you in."
Harry bit back his tongue so that Banner didn't know exactly where he thought Stark could stick his "helping hand".
Tony had one banger of a headache.
The meetings, oh god, the meetings that he had to sit through ever so often were the dullest things that he could ever experience. Granted, ever since he promoted Pepper to CEO he had to suffer a lot less of them, but still he could be doing other things. Productive things. Things that included building upgrades for his Iron Man suit, finding yet another purpose for his eco-friendly energy, upgrading Banner's pants, Banner didn't like it when he touched his pants. Yes, Brucey had done a beautiful job of making sure his dick didn't swing around after every transformation but still. He'd have to go everything in his good ol' trusty lab, which is where he was heading at the moment.
Or would be, if there wasn't a certain maniacal god standing in his way.
"Excuse me Reindeer Games but you're blocking the path. I don't know whether they taught you this in Asgard's kindergarten but it's kinda rude to stand in the middle while others are trying to go on with their day."
Loki give a shit-eating grin. Tony hated that. He made a mental note to tell JARVIS to make dummies with similar looks at the shooting range at least until he could blast it off the real thing. His eyebrow twitched with annoyed anticipation.
"Alright hot shot, you're starting to get on my nerves, seriously, move."
A sing song voice cut through the air.
"~ I know something you do not.~"
Well, apparently after little to no consideration, Loki had decided to not only not move out of Tony's way but also try and provoke him. Obviously this was a pathetic ploy to get him to take a swing at the god, so that he could run to his big and apparently all powerful daddy and try to get his powers back. Fine, he could play his games if it made sure that Loki lost hope and got bored. Luckily, there was a large chance that Thor was still the in the Tower and could take of his baby brother if anything went awry, (not that Tony needed any help).
"Alright, I'll bite. What do you know oh-so-mighty God of Mischief? Have Thy finally learned how to foldeth thine own garments?"
Strange. No annoyance. Just an increasing amount of smug filling the Asgardians posture.
"Oh, mock me now, Man of Iron. However, we shall see who's laughing last when the time comes for your secret to come to light. Or perhaps you do not know? In which case this will prove to be quite amusing."
Alright this was getting too weird for his tastes. Maybe if he could just shimmie past...
"Sir, Banner wants to meet you in the private lounge on the 9th floor, he has information he would like to share with you privately. There seems to be a young man waiting with him."
He tapped on the screen of his phone and a blue holographic picture shot out to take hold of the frame. Bruce was talking calmly with what looked to be a fidgeting high-schooler He changed the perspective to another camera with a swipe of his finger to get a better look at his face.
The teen was shorter than Banner, with a lean, slightly muscular build and wild black hair. What really caught his interest was the somewhat unnatural looking scar that he he running down like a crack in the upper part of face, and his facial features, square jaw, almond shaped eyes, heart shaped face, he had definitely seen those exact features before, he just couldn't exactly pinpoint on who and where.
He'd definitely have JARVIS look him up later.
Tony jumped when the smell of polished leather hit his nose, he had momentarily forgotten about Loki, who was standing maybe a step closer, slightly leaning forward while looking curiously at the screen, hands clasped behind his back.
"For Pete's sake, mind your own business Reindeer Games."
His patience worn through, he shouldered his way past Loki and stepped his way into the polished elevator and turned around to face Loki while pressing the 9th floor button.
He snapped his thumb and middle finger and pointed at him.
"Behave." The elevator doors slid shut.