Chapter Text
Harry is, for once, alone. He’s not in the Tower by himself, not by a long shot, but he’s the only one currently on this floor, or so he thinks. It’s been two weeks since Andromeda arrived, he’s spoken to her about his time at the mercy of the Order once since then. It’s difficult for him to talk about what he was put through. He’s been conditioned since he was at the Dursleys to keep his complaints and grievances to himself, that no-one would listen or care. That he deserved what he got.
A part of him realizes that they were always wrong, that what he went through from the age of fifteen months onward was never normal. An innocent, naïve part of him that he’s never really been able to squash, even with everything that he has gone through in fifteen years. Despite his best efforts, that part of him has always been there. It flares now in desperate hope, clinging to the safety and security he’s been offered.
Harry blinks, looks around the spacious kitchen and eyes the massive table in the middle of the space. Beyond is a sleek stainless steel elevator door. Out of curiosity, he wanders over and presses the button with a hesitant finger, calling the lift to his level. When the door silently slides open, he pokes his head around the corner, eyeballing the massive amount of buttons, each representing a different floor. The tower that Tony had built was gigantic, but he’s never really realized how big it was until now.
“JARVIS?” he says hesitantly.
The AI responds promptly, a curious warmth in its vaguely British voice. “How can I help you, Harry?”
“What floor am I currently on?”
“You are on the main Avengers residence floor, number 84,” JARVIS responds promptly. “Each member of the team has a private floor, numbering 85-90. 92 is Party Town as Sir refers to it, for entertaining. 94 is roof access for helicopters and the Quinjet.”
Harry processes the information and then says, “Does Tony have a private floor as well?”
“Sir has several floors,” JARVIS responds quickly. “81 is his personal residence floor, 82 is his personal labs. He is currently on 83, which is the lab dedicated to modifications and monitoring of the Iron Man suit as well as storage for active models. Predecessors are also stored on that floor in display cases accessible only by Sir.”
“Where is Sirius?” Harry asks curiously.
“Master Sirius is on 83 as well, speaking with Sir. His current residence quarters are on 84 like your own.”
“Current?” Harry questions, having caught the temporary term.
“Sir would eventually like to move both of you to his private residence floor on 81, he is just not sure about your response. He wants both of you to feel comfortable, but desires to become closer to you both.”
Amused, Harry points out, “You do realize you just told me that, right?”
“Of course,” JARVIS responds, his tone conveying ‘I am not an idiot’ fairly well for a machine. “Sir tends to overthink things, so I felt it was best to just put his requests out there for you to consider.”
Harry snorts, considers the last few moments of conversation and says, “Master Sirius?”
“When I first was introduced to Sirius in 1996, he requested that I refer to him by name as the term ‘Master’ has uncomfortable connotations for him, something to do with your civil war I would think. I refer to Sir as Master Tony amongst guests and business associates. To my processing ability and all logical paths, Sir and Sirius will end up back together as they were. I convey my respect and approval of this by referring to him as ‘Master Sirius’.”
Amused, Harry smiled and said, “So I’m not the only one that thinks they’re a little obvious?”
“Most certainly not,” JARVIS replies primly.
Harry steps into the elevator and presses the button labelled 83. It turns pale blue to show his selection and the doors slide closed with a smooth pneumatic hiss. The elevator descends, the number above the doors ticking from 84 to 83 within seconds. With a small ping, the doors open. Harry steps out, blinking at the sterile concrete floor and walls. In front of him is a door, which slides open as he approaches.
Beyond may as well be another world and Harry barely resists letting his jaw fall open in comic disbelief. In front of him is clear, thick glass framed into upper and lower portions by sleek steel. Beyond another door, which is code-locked, are several tables of modern steel and heavy tempered glass, as well as more solid worktables upon which rest various pieces of shining metal in deep scarlet and bright gold. Computer screens hover in the air and various small lights blink in steady patterns.
In the center of all of this are Sirius and Tony, standing and talking next to a table with more pieces of the metal suit and complicated tools on it. Their posture is relaxed, a smile lingers on Sirius’ lips and his blue-grey eyes are sparkling. They’re clearly not arguing, nor involved in a serious conversation.
“JARVIS,” Harry says hesitantly, “if they’re not involved in an important conversation, can you tell them I’m here and would like to talk to them?”
“Of course,” the AI swiftly reassures.
Tony had been working on minor tweaks to the Iron Man when Sirius had found him on his private lab floor. The awe and curious delight on the man’s face as he looked around the high-tech lab brought a small smile to Tony’s lips. He remained where he was, content to just watch Sirius’ reactions. The man’s arrival had been greeted with a lot of excited beeps and whistles from Dum-e and U, who both remembered the man from last time. Butterfingers was a relatively new addition; Sirius had snickered quietly for several long moments on hearing the name and the reasoning behind it.
Finally, Sirius turned to him and breathed quietly, “This is amazing, Tony. How did you come up with something like this?”
Tony smiled at the compliment, but a shadow simultaneously crosses his eyes. They darken a little as he considers. Really, he should have guessed it. Anyone who looked at these suits of armor would wonder where inspiration had come to build them in the first place. Sirius knew him better than most, had realized even in a short amount of time that most of his greatest thoughts came under duress or when he was horrendously drunk. Or at least they had.
“Necessity,” Tony says finally, his voice low and a little tight.
He hasn’t even realized that Sirius has approached and was in his personal space until the other reaches out and lightly grips his arm, just below the elbow. Looking at the other’s expressive eyes, he’s surprised but relieved when Sirius only says, “Okay.”
Tony blinks, and then blurts out, “You’re not going to ask why it was necessary?”
“I can see it’s something major from your recent past, after I left. You can tell me when you’re comfortable doing so, not any sooner,” Sirius says quietly. A bit of a smile flickers over his face as he says, “After all, I’ve been in quite a bit of shit myself over the past fifteen years and I’m not exactly pouring out the truth either.”
Tony grimaces, lets out a shaky sigh and says, “I will tell you; I promise. It’s just not easy for me to talk about.”
Sirius merely smiles and changes the subject, asking about what Tony’s working on. Relieved to have the subject changed, Tony rambles on a bit, gesturing excitedly with his hands as he speaks. A warm smile lingers on Sirius’ lips as he listens, interjecting a question here or there.
They’ve moved on from there, reminiscing about several things from their mutual past, when JARVIS interrupts. “Sir?”
“What is it, J?” Tony replies immediately.
“Are you and Sirius involved in an important conversation?”
“No,” Sirius quickly reassures the AI, smiling. “We’re just talking.”
“Then Harry is just outside the lab, wanting to speak with you both.”
Tony blinks in surprise, turning in the direction of the door. Sure enough, standing quietly outside the door is Harry. “Let him in J,” he says quickly.
Harry steps through the door almost hesitantly, looking around with curious eyes. The bots have plugged into their charging stations now that he’s not working, so Harry isn’t being immediately swarmed with curious robots. His eyes flicker freely throughout the room, taking everything in and likely cataloging his surroundings.
“This is really crazy stuff,” he says, gesturing all around the room.
Tony snickers, smiling a little. “Thanks. Most of this is pretty advanced tech, even for our modern society. The Iron Man is state of the art, has to be in order to do all the crazy stuff I do with the Avengers.”
“What did you need, Harry?” Sirius asks quietly. Tony has noticed that whenever Harry isn’t present, Sirius refers to him by the name Harlan, which was the name he gave his son at birth. But out of a desire to make their son comfortable, he uses the name Harry when speaking to him.
“I was speaking with Remus yesterday,” Harry began, his tone almost hesitant. “He said that you were the one who put the glamour on my appearance when you put me in James and Lily’s care.”
“I was, yes,” Sirius nods. “Anchoring anything on a Black is difficult unless it’s another Black, our family magics resist outside tampering. Lily had done all the research to find the right spell, then I just had to learn it properly to cast it on you.”
“That could be why Andromeda’s memory modification failed,” Tony points out. Sure he’s new to magic, but he’s also a genius. He catches on to most new concepts far more quickly than the average person would.
“Exactly,” Sirius nods, smiling. “That and we’re known for the strength of our mental shields and meditation abilities. It’s hard to mess with the mind of a Black, we get the basic techniques taught to us practically from the cradle.”
Harry frowns, but doesn’t voice whatever thought has crossed his mind. Instead, he says, “Do you still know the charm you used on me?”
“I do,” Sirius nods. “I locked both the charm and it’s counter into my mental recall, so that I would remember them later. I didn’t want to have to look them up again, it took Lily months to find one that would suit our purposes.”
Harry takes a deep breath, shifts anxiously from one foot to the other. Tony has a strong suspicion about what he’s going to ask, but he keeps silent. It’s not for sure, after all, and he doesn’t want the teenager to feel pressured. It doesn’t stop him from becoming curious, nervous and excited all at once.
“I want to take it down,” Harry blurts. “The charm. I respect that James and Lily gave their lives to protect me, but looking like them has caused me nothing but misery. I want to look like what I’m supposed to.”
Sirius blinks. “Are you sure?” he asks, voice wavering a little. Tony can practically hear the desire and longing in his voice, but he’s doing his darndest not to give it away.
“Yes,” Harry says firmly.
“T-then I’ll put a resizing charm on your clothes,” Sirius responds. When Harry blinks he says, “You may not stay the same height, it would be uncomfortable if you gained a few inches or pounds and shredded your clothing.”
“Right,” Harry murmurs, an embarrassed flush lighting his cheeks. “Also, I know you’ve been referring to me as Harlan when I’m not in hearing range. It doesn’t bother me if you call me by that name. It’s the one you gave me, after all. I’m not sure if I want to switch it yet or not, but if you’d rather use that, use it.”
“Okay,” Sirius responds, eyes watering a little. He removes his wand, bought on a short shopping expedition to the local New York wizarding center. “Are you sure?” He asks Harry quietly. “Once I pull this down, there’s no guarantee I can put it back up.”
“I’m sure,” Harry says quietly but firmly.
Sirius points his wand at Harry, takes a short breath to steady himself and says, “Revelus Antius Mortus!”
There’s a brief flare of purple light from the wand, which strikes Harry dead on in the chest. The lights flicker briefly overhead at the spell, which reminds Tony that he needs to figure out a way to protect tech from magical outbursts. They got lucky this time, casting a spell in his lab of all places.
For a few breaths, nothing happens. Then Harry’s skin begins to glow, getting steadily brighter. His appearance flickers in front of them, like a badly tuned television set. Then there’s a bright flare of light that makes Tony raise a hand to cover his eyes and a sound, like glass shattering.
When Tony lowers his arm, he freezes. He’s staring and he knows it, but he can’t seem to break his gaze from the image in front of him. Before, Harry had been perhaps 5’ 6”, with messy black hair, bright green eyes and pale skin. Now, he’s not only different, but so obviously theirs.
He’s gained a couple of inches in height, probably coming to just past Tony’s chin now. His frame is still slender and too thin, but that will improve. He blinks, removing the glasses and looks around, clearly able to see without them. His eyes are an exact replica of Tony’s own, in both shape and color. His hair is still black, but now it’s silky and straight like Sirius’. His skin is pale but glows with an inner radiance and he possesses high cheekbones and an expressive mouth.
Tony’s shocked to see the obvious similarities between him and his son, from obvious things like his eyes and nose to smaller things like the curve of his jawline and his long, slender fingers. He’s so obviously a blend of the two of them that now it will be noticeable even to people just walking down the street.
A slightly watery smile curves Sirius’ lips as he flicks his wand again, conjuring a mirror so that Harry can see his own appearance.
“I could tell,” he says softly, “that you would look a lot like Tony even when you were younger, it was that obvious. But I can’t deny how good it feels to see you looking like I remember now.”
Harry blinks, breaks his gaze from the mirror. Looking at Tony he says, “Well now I guess there’s no denying that resemblance, is there?”
His tone is cheeky, but Tony can hear the uncertainty in his son’s voice, as though he’s not sure whether or not Tony had wanted to be able to deny it.
Unable to stand the hesitation in his voice, Tony walks up to his son, wraps an arm around him and pulls him into a tight hug. Quietly, just so Harry can hear it, he breathes, “I guess it’s a good thing I never wanted to deny it, isn’t it?”
If Harry’s uncertain grip on him tightens a little at his words, Tony doesn’t mention it. Nor does he draw attention to or deliberately notice the soft hitching sob from the head buried into his shoulder.
This is his life now. And he realizes, holding his son and staring into Sirius’ warm, shining eyes, that he wouldn’t change it for the world.
It’s funny how life works sometimes.