The Quinjet settled onto the landing pad with a soft thud, like a tired cat finally curling up on its favorite spot. Inside, the air was thick with the kind of tired that only comes from a full day of fighting off Nazis—sorry, HYDRA—and trying not to get blown up by your own explosions. And yet, there was that comforting buzz of relief that only happens when you know the day's madness is behind you. You know, like when you finally manage to get the last slice of pizza without anyone else noticing.
Tony Stark was the first to break the silence, naturally. "Well, that was fun," he said, the sarcasm dripping off every word like it was his personal brand of cologne. He stretched his arms, letting out a sigh. "What's next? A charity event? Maybe a puppy rescue? Or, you know, just the usual, 'stop the world from descending into chaos' thing?"
"We should focus on the mission first," Captain America—aka Steve Rogers—said, looking more like the military commander than the man who'd just fought alongside them. He had that way of saying things like he was about to run an obstacle course in your mind and make you like it. "We need a debrief. Head to the common area."
Steve might as well have been wearing a 'Leader' badge, because he was the leader. The man could take charge in any situation without making you feel like you were being told what to do. It was like being around your favorite teacher—except with more guns.
"Let's make it quick, Cap," Tony said, adjusting the cuffs of his suit like he was going to a board meeting. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get a nap that doesn't involve me lying down in a coffin-like chair."
"Tony, we all know you don't sleep," Natasha Romanoff—aka Black Widow—shot back, her voice smooth but laced with just the right amount of sarcasm. "You're too busy making snarky remarks and saving the world to need rest."
"Right, well, I could use a nap. Or a massage. Or something that doesn't involve this," Tony waved vaguely at the scene around them, clearly unimpressed. "And if anyone says 'self-care,' I'm punching you."
"We can talk about your lack of sleep later," Bruce Banner, who had the kind of scientist brain that always worried about everything, said, his tone serious, but there was a flicker of exhaustion behind his glasses. "What happened with the twins?"
Bruce's eyes darted over to the unconscious forms of the twins who had been rescued from HYDRA's clutches. They were still breathing, but their bodies were pale, and their faces didn't quite look right, like something had been stolen from them.
"They're not physically damaged, but... mentally, it's a different story," Harry said, coming up behind Bruce with that deadpan expression he had when he was in 'serious mode.' If he wasn't one of the most powerful beings on Earth, you might've thought he was a sarcastic coffee shop barista. "They've seen enough trauma to make us seem like we're in a Marvel movie."
Bruce didn't flinch at the dark humor, though Tony made a noise like he was holding in a laugh. "Great, more broken toys to fix," Tony muttered, adjusting his arc reactor. "Well, if they need therapy, we can just hand them over to me. I'll tell them about the time I blew up my own living room with an experimental rocket."
"We're not putting them in your therapy session, Stark," Steve said, throwing a look over his shoulder that was equal parts 'disappointed' and 'this-is-what-we-expected-from-you.' "We need a real plan to help them."
"We're not giving up," Clint Barton (aka Hawkeye) chimed in from the back of the group, rubbing the back of his neck. "But we'll need to keep an eye on them. They're not out of the woods yet."
"And I'll just be over here keeping my laser-sharp focus on everything," Harry added, shooting Clint a wink. "I mean, if you want to be the one to keep track of traumatized teens, go ahead. I'll just be over here saving the world. Again."
Clint just grunted. "Smartass."
The team made their way into the common area like they were walking into the aftermath of a party they didn't remember attending. As soon as they got inside, JARVIS's voice echoed through the speakers like the calmest butler you could imagine. "Welcome back, Avengers. I've already had a celebratory bottle of fine virtual wine delivered to the fridge. I'm afraid it's non-alcoholic, but you'll find no shortage of sparkling prosecco."
"Oh, fantastic," Tony muttered. "A virtual AI that knows how to host a party. How... convenient."
"Always here to serve, sir," JARVIS replied, smooth as ever. "I do, however, suggest a more serious tone for this debrief. The situation at hand—"
"We know, JARVIS," Steve interrupted, looking like he'd just stepped out of a training montage. "But for once, I think we all deserve to take a second to breathe."
"Sure, breathe and decompress," Tony said, leaning against the back of the couch. "But then, we get back to work. After all, we didn't just take down a couple of random bad guys. We stopped the kind of villainy that would make Thanos blush. Not that I'm bragging or anything."
"Right," Natasha said, eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms. "You definitely don't brag."
Steve motioned for everyone to take a seat. "We need to stay vigilant. HYDRA may have taken a hit today, but they're not gone. They'll regroup, and we need to be ready for the next phase. We can't get complacent."
Harry gave Steve a look that said, 'You really don't know Tony, do you?' Then he turned to Tony with an exaggerated sigh. "So, what's the plan? More world-saving? More snarky remarks?"
"Ah, now you're speaking my language!" Tony said, snapping his fingers like he was about to throw out a thousand-dollar bill. "We hit the next target tomorrow. But first? Drinks. And maybe a quick victory lap."
"Just remember," Clint said, holding up a hand like he was about to start a motivational speech, "this victory's not going to solve everything. We've still got a lot of work ahead of us."
"Great," Harry said, slouching down in his chair with a dramatic groan. "So much for my victory lap."
"First thing's first," Steve said, standing tall again. "We get some rest, then we move. Together."
Tony smirked. "And if you need me, I'll be in my lab. Fixing things. Or making things explode. I'm flexible."
"Yeah, we know," Harry muttered under his breath. "Just don't blow up the entire building, alright?"
The banter continued, but in that moment, despite all the tension and chaos, one thing was certain: when the Avengers were together, they were unstoppable. And no matter how many times they saved the world, they'd always find a way to come back for more.
—
Amid the usual chatter and occasional Tony Stark one-liner—because you know Tony can't leave a room without cracking a joke, even after taking down a bunch of HYDRA agents—Harry cleared his throat, and the noise stopped as though someone had just dropped a live grenade in the middle of the room. The entire team turned to look at him. Now, Harry could usually keep his cool, but when he spoke with that dead-serious tone of his, you knew it wasn't time for jokes. Even Tony Stark knew when to zip it.
"Hold up, everyone," Harry said, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. "Yeah, we totally kicked HYDRA's ass, but there's a bigger problem we need to talk about."
The room went silent. It was like someone had just mentioned that the coffee machine was broken. Everyone knew that when Harry spoke, it was time to listen—especially when his tone made it sound like the world's about to end… again.
He turned his gaze to the team, looking at each one of them like he was about to deliver a punchline, but this one wasn't funny. "Those twins we rescued? Their story's a lot more twisted than we thought. We can't just sweep that under the rug and call it a day."
There was a collective pause as the Avengers shifted, their gazes sharpening. Even Tony's sarcastic smirk fell away, the usual cocky grin replaced by something a little less sure of itself. Steve, ever the Boy Scout, stood up straighter—no surprise there—and nodded at Harry like he was about to drop some Captain America wisdom.
"Harry's right," Steve said, his voice steady and solid like he was about to hand out life advice. "The twins' connection to HYDRA? That's not something we can just ignore. We need to dig deeper and figure out who they're really working for—if anyone."
The team nodded in agreement, and you could practically hear the cogs in their brains turning. This wasn't just some random mission; this was personal. This was the kind of thing that could unravel everything they thought they knew about HYDRA, Stark Industries, and, well, the whole dang world.
Harry didn't waste time. He jumped right in, looking like he was about to drop a truth bomb that would make everyone wish they had just stayed home with Netflix and snacks. "So, here's the thing. Their names are Pietro and Wanda Maximoff," he started, and you could practically feel the weight of his words. "Their parents? Killed in a terrorist attack. And get this—those fancy Stark missiles you guys like to flaunt? Yeah, they were the ones that took them out."
The room went quiet. I mean, deathly quiet. Like someone had just told them that pizza was cancelled for the year. Even Tony, the guy who could talk his way out of anything (and usually did), looked like he'd just been hit with a truck. And this wasn't just any truck. This was an emotional freight train going 100 miles per hour.
Harry wasn't done. He stood there, letting the tension build like he was some sort of wizard maestro conducting an emotional symphony. "And to make it worse, these kids were stuck under rubble for days, with a Stark missile just waiting to blow their faces off. That's the reality they were living in."
Tony's usual bravado was nowhere to be found. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. Then, finally, he spoke, and for the first time in forever, his voice was anything but snarky. "I had no idea..." he said, the words kind of floating out like they didn't quite belong to him.
Cap, the one who always knew what to say in moments like this, clapped Tony on the back—softly, like he was trying not to break the guy. "It's not your fault, Tony," Steve said, his voice firm but kind. "But we can't undo the past. Right now, we've got to focus on these kids. They need our help."
Natasha, who'd basically seen it all, leaned forward, her face unreadable as usual. But you could hear the edge in her voice when she spoke. "They've been through a lot. We can't rush this. We've got to earn their trust, and that takes time." She didn't have to say more. They all knew what she meant. You didn't just fix a broken soul with a handshake and a pat on the back.
Bruce, ever the reluctant leader when the big green guy wasn't around, gave a quick nod of agreement. "And we need to be ready for anything. We don't know what HYDRA has been doing to them. We need a strategy."
Harry, still standing at the head of the table like he was the captain of this ship (because, let's face it, sometimes he was), cleared his throat. "I think it's best if Tony stays away from the Maximoffs for a while," he said, and honestly, it wasn't a suggestion—it was a full-on request. "They're already dealing with enough. Throwing you into the mix right now would be like handing them a loaded gun."
Tony opened his mouth to argue, but even he knew when to shut up. "Yeah, okay, fine," he muttered, finally caving. "I'll go back to building my robots or whatever."
"I'll stick with them," Harry continued, ignoring Tony's self-pity party. "They need someone who doesn't come with a ton of baggage—well, other than my own baggage, which is legendary in its own right."
Steve gave Harry one of those looks, the kind that said, "You've got this," without saying a word. "Thanks, Harry. Just… be careful. And keep us posted."
With that, Harry turned to leave, his footsteps echoing as he walked toward the medical bay. But not before adding one more little gem to the conversation. "Don't worry, Cap. I'll be fine. After all, I've been through a lot worse than a couple of super-powered, traumatized teens." He gave Tony a wink, just for good measure, before stepping through the door.
As the rest of the team stood there, unsure whether to laugh or sigh in relief, Tony stared at the door, muttering under his breath, "Yeah, we all have, kid. We all have."
And just like that, the Avengers were ready for what came next, with a plan, a little bit of humor, and—if Harry had anything to do with it—a whole lot of sass.
—
"Alright, team," Captain America said, his voice cutting through the room like the sharp edge of his shield (which, let's be honest, probably made the sound of a thousand angels singing when he used it). He stood tall, all business—like if you had a dog that could bench press a car and also somehow give life advice. "Time for the debrief. We've got a nasty little HYDRA problem on our hands, and I'm not talking about the kind that leaves your lawn mysteriously flooded with piranhas. We need to know what we're dealing with."
Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, crossed her arms, leaning against the wall with a casualness that belied the firepower she had on hand. "HYDRA's got more layers than a Russian nesting doll," she said with a smirk that could slice through steel. "The base was more locked down than Tony's liquor cabinet, and trust me, that's a fortress." She raised an eyebrow, her voice taking on that dry, sarcastic edge that somehow still made everything sound like life-or-death business. "We ran into resistance, and let me tell you, those guys? They weren't handing out hugs."
Bruce Banner was giving off the "don't make me angry" vibe, though you could tell he was keeping it together (for now). His brow was furrowed, lips pressed tight, probably wondering how a group of super-smart scientists could still mess up basic ethics. "They've got some seriously messed-up experiments going on," he said, voice low and grim. "This is beyond 'mad scientist'—we're talking full-on Frankenstein levels, minus the cool lightning and the loveable monster."
"Wait, what?" Tony Stark, who had been typing away on his tablet, only looked up when it was time for him to throw a sarcastic comment in. "We're not talking about literal lightning strikes, right? Because I totally missed out on that field trip, and I'm still recovering from the whole 'get a rocket-powered suit' phase." He wiped his hands dramatically on his suit and turned to the group, now looking unusually serious. "But yeah, HYDRA's been playing Dr. Frankenstein with some next-level weapons tech and enhanced individuals. They're not just making oversized paperweights—they've got some serious stuff brewing."
Clint Barton, sitting back in his chair with an arrow casually resting in his lap, shot Tony a look that screamed "you're really not going to be able to talk your way out of this one." He spoke up, deadpan. "So, what's the game plan? Because if we let them catch their breath, they're going to come back swinging harder than a reformed Hulk on a Tuesday."
Cap nodded, like he'd just listened to his favorite record on vinyl. "Exactly. We hit them hard and fast. No time for messing around. HYDRA's been at this for too long, and we can't afford to let them get comfortable."
Everyone sat up straighter as the weight of the plan sunk in. They were a well-oiled machine—except for Tony, who was currently trying to juggle his tablet and a cup of coffee like a caffeine-addicted octopus. But that's what made him Tony Stark.
Harry, who had been quietly leaning against the doorframe, watching the others strategize like he was waiting for the punchline of a joke, finally stepped forward. His eyes had that glint that made you think he could probably set fire to the entire room just with his sarcasm. "You're all forgetting one important thing," he said, his voice cutting through the chatter like a phoenix rising from the ashes. "You all think you've got this in the bag because you've got shields, arrows, and billion-dollar suits. But HYDRA's not going to roll over for you. They've got people—people like the Maximoffs."
The room went dead silent. All eyes turned to him. Tony dropped his coffee cup. Natasha narrowed her eyes. Bruce looked like he was about to go full green.
"Maximoffs?" Clint repeated, a little too casually, like he was trying to keep his cool but failing.
"Yeah. You know, the twins," Harry continued, smirking like he'd just dropped the world's most casually devastating bombshell. "Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. Ever heard of them?"
Tony rubbed his temples like he could already feel a migraine coming on. "Oh, great. This just went from 'standard HYDRA grudge match' to 'family reunion from hell'."
"Yup," Harry confirmed, with a smug little grin that could rival Stark's own. "They've got a complicated history with HYDRA. Their parents were killed in a terrorist attack, and guess what? The weapons used? Stark Industries specials."
Tony's face fell faster than one of his Iron Man suits in free fall. "Wait... what?" he asked, voice cracking just a little. "I—I didn't know. I never knew."
There was an uncomfortable pause as everyone let that sink in. Clint, always the one to lighten the mood, chimed in with his usual dry wit. "Hey, Tony, look on the bright side. At least you're not on their 'special' Christmas list."
Cap placed a hand on Tony's shoulder, his voice as steady as ever. "It wasn't your fault, Tony. You didn't pull the trigger. But right now, we need to focus on the mission."
Harry stepped forward, his posture confident, like he was ready to take on a whole army with nothing but his words. "You don't need to worry about that, Tony. They've already got enough to deal with. I'm going to stay close to them for a bit. If there's anyone who might trust me right now, it's probably going to be me."
Tony shot him a look like he was wondering if Harry had just volunteered to babysit HYDRA's pet demons, but said nothing. Cap gave him one of his rare, approving nods. "We'll handle things here," he said. "Just... keep us updated."
Harry gave him a half-smile, and for a second, it was almost like they were both in on some cosmic joke that no one else quite understood. "Will do, Cap. And don't worry—I've got this under control. Besides, I'm great at making bad situations even worse."
As he turned to leave, Clint's voice called out, "Hey, just don't go getting yourself blown up in the process, alright? We need you for the good stuff, not the 'rogue mission' stuff."
Harry grinned without turning around. "Clint, I don't do 'rogue missions.' I do 'badass, make-it-look-easy missions.'" And with that, he walked out, leaving a room full of Avengers who now knew their next fight was going to be a lot more complicated than they'd originally thought.
They were all thinking the same thing: HYDRA had definitely messed with the wrong group of people.
—
Tony Stark was in his lab, surrounded by more blinking lights than a disco ball at a New Year's Eve party. Only, unlike a party, there was no music, no fun, and—thanks to his complicated love-hate relationship with existential crises—no joy. Just the hum of machinery and the sound of his footsteps pacing back and forth. He was doing that thing where you walk around like you're about to figure something out, but really, you're just putting off confronting whatever's been gnawing at you. Like a raccoon in your attic, but more metaphorical and less adorable.
"Jarvis, pull up all records of Stark Industries weapon sales to known terrorist groups," Tony said, voice tight like a badly done suit. This was not a stroll down memory lane; this was more like plummeting into a pit of laser-eyed sharks.
"Certainly, sir," Jarvis replied, his voice the epitome of calm. Of course, Jarvis was calm—he wasn't the one about to face the fallout of selling weapons to anyone with a bad idea and a paycheck.
Tony rubbed his hands together and mumbled something that could've been "maybe I should've just sold socks instead." The thought of weapons, his father's legacy, and the mess Obie left him with was enough to make him want to bury himself under a pile of iron shavings.
But just as Tony was about to break down a holographic projection of Stark Industries' unsavory side hustle, the door opened with a soft swish.
Pepper Potts walked in like she owned the place—no fanfare, no entrance music, just that quiet presence that made Tony feel like he was the least together person in the room. And trust me, with Tony Stark, that's saying something. She eyed him carefully, as if she already knew the battle happening in his mind, like she always did. The way she just knew things—sometimes it was unnerving. But mostly, it was kind of comforting.
"Tony, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice that perfect mix of concern and oh no, what mess has he gotten himself into now? that had become her signature tone over the years.
Tony looked at her, scruffy hair falling into his face like a sad, stubborn attempt at rebellion. He sighed dramatically—Tony Stark's version of emotional confession, which was basically 'prepare for the guilt trip, it's coming in hot'. He ran a hand through his hair, which was currently doing its best impersonation of a bird's nest. "It's everything, Pep," he muttered, making sure to add a dramatic pause for effect. "The things Obie did in my name, all the stuff I ignored... I don't know if I'll ever be able to make up for it."
Pepper just stood there, not rolling her eyes, not launching into a speech about how much of an idiot he was (though it was probably tempting), just standing there like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and was still somehow carrying it with grace. She put a hand on his shoulder—a small gesture, but somehow it was like a life raft in a sea of Tony Stark's self-inflicted chaos. "You've already done so much good, Tony," she said, voice steady and warm. "You can't change the past, but you can make a difference now."
Tony nodded, feeling slightly less like the world's biggest screw-up. But, of course, his brain immediately launched into self-doubt mode. Because that's what it did best. "I just… I need to do better, Pep," he said, not quite meeting her gaze, like the universe might spontaneously combust if he did. "For everyone we've hurt, for everyone counting on us to protect them."
Pepper squeezed his shoulder, the kind of squeeze that said, I'm here, and I'm not leaving. "We'll figure it out together, Tony," she promised, her voice full of that calming reassurance she always had, the kind that made Tony feel like maybe—just maybe—the world wasn't about to end if he didn't have it all figured out.
Tony glanced around at the lab. His fortress of solitude. Except, instead of being full of deep, meaningful thoughts and profound realizations, it was full of gadgets that might as well have been the technological equivalent of a glitter bomb—flashy, impressive, and somehow never quite the solution he was looking for. But with Pepper there, it didn't feel quite as suffocating. It was still a fortress, just… slightly more breathable.
"Alright, Jarvis, let's not go digging too deep into the 'unethical weapon sales' pile just yet," Tony said with a sigh, trying to make light of it all. The sarcasm was his defense mechanism, even when it wasn't exactly funny. "But can you pull up the files on that Sokovian HYDRA base again? Maybe we can find something to actually fix instead of just feeling guilty about everything."
"Of course, sir," Jarvis replied, and Tony could hear the faintest undertone of amusement in his voice, like Jarvis was in on the joke of Tony trying to avoid the emotional stuff. "I'll pull it up immediately. Just try to avoid detonating anything, if you please."
Tony shot a half-hearted smirk toward the ceiling. "No promises, Jarvis. You know I'm a sucker for a good explosion."
Pepper raised an eyebrow. "I think the world's had enough of those, don't you?"
"Fine, fine," Tony said with a wave of his hand, trying to look more put-together than he felt. "No explosions. But you better believe I'm going to do some strategic punching next time we face HYDRA."
Pepper laughed, the sound filling the lab in a way that somehow made all the blinking lights seem a little less… overwhelming. "That's my Tony," she said, and Tony couldn't help but feel a bit better. Because with her by his side, maybe—just maybe—he could stop burning the world down one project at a time.
With a last look at the holograms flickering around him, Tony straightened up, determined. After all, saving the world was his full-time job. But figuring out his life? That was going to take a little more work. And he'd do it—with Pepper at his back, and Jarvis handling the rest. The Avengers didn't just save the world. They saved each other too.
—
The moment Nick Fury stormed into Avengers Tower, the air in the room shifted. It wasn't dramatic or anything—there were no thunderclaps or flashing lights—but you could practically hear the collective uh-oh echoing through the walls. Harry, who had been trying (and failing) to find something halfway decent to watch on Netflix (since when did everything have to be about aliens or wizard schools?), felt that familiar knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. Nick Fury showing up unannounced? Yeah, that was usually a sign that things were about to go sideways—fast.
"Avengers," Fury started, his gravelly voice slicing through the room like a hot knife through butter. "We've got a situation."
Harry leaned forward, bracing himself like he was about to get hit with a cosmic two-by-four. "What's going on?" he asked, trying to sound like he was ready for whatever disaster was coming next. Spoiler alert: He wasn't.
Fury didn't do small talk. Not with this crew. "We've uncovered a HYDRA operation," he said, his expression going from 'grim' to 'oh-you-are-so-screwed' in record time. "And it's bigger than anything we've dealt with before. The head of HYDRA? None other than Alexander Pierce, Secretary of the World Security Council."
There was a moment of stunned silence, which was exactly how you'd expect a room full of superheroes to react when someone casually drops the name of their former friend-turned-evil-boss. Natasha's eyes widened, as if she'd just discovered that her favorite coffee shop was now serving decaf. "Pierce?" she said, sounding like she was trying to make sense of an impossible math problem. "But... he's—he's a friend of yours, isn't he?"
Fury's jaw clenched like it was made of titanium. He was clearly trying to keep it together, but that was one tight expression. "He was," Fury grunted. "Now, he's a threat. And I need you to help us stop him before he blows up the whole damn world."
Harry felt his stomach lurch, like a rollercoaster that just went straight down. Great. Just great. If the world was going to end because of a guy in a suit who liked to shake hands with villains, then Harry was pretty sure he'd been overdue for a vacation. "What's the plan?" he asked, because honestly, there was only one thing to do in a situation like this: Make a joke, pretend you're calm, and hope it doesn't completely suck.
Fury's gaze turned colder than the bottom of an ice cube tray. "We're assembling a team to take down HYDRA and bring Pierce to justice," he said, as if the words didn't burn his tongue on the way out. "And we need you, Clint, and Natasha on it."
Harry didn't hesitate. Well, that's not true. He hesitated for a second—just long enough for a tiny voice inside his head to scream, You have a semi-normal life! You're allowed to binge-watch Netflix! No one needs to die today! But that voice was quickly squashed by the voice of reason, which was considerably louder. And probably more likely to get him killed.
"I'm in," Harry said with way more confidence than he actually felt. It was about 80% real, give or take. "Just tell me what you need."
Clint shot him a quick look, like he was weighing Harry's chances of survival. After a second, he gave a quick nod. Clint had that kind of vibe that said, I'll bring the arrows, you bring the sarcasm.
Natasha, on the other hand, was way too cool for this conversation. "You really want to do this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, do you have a plan that doesn't involve a huge explosion? 'Cause I'm starting to think we're overdue for one of those."
Harry grinned. "Who needs a plan? Plans are overrated," he said, rolling his eyes. "You just grab your gear, act like you know what you're doing, and hope for the best. It's worked for me so far."
Fury, as usual, wasn't impressed with any of this. "We don't have time for your sarcasm, kid," he growled. "We've got one hour to prep. Meet me at the rendezvous point, and we'll brief you there."
Harry stood, brushing himself off like he was about to walk into the world's most dangerous party. "One hour? Cool. I'll just get my armor and try not to blow anything up in the meantime."
Fury shot him a look, and it was the kind of look that said, If you screw this up, I'll personally make you regret it. "You better be ready," he said before turning to leave.
As Fury walked out, Harry couldn't help but feel that weird twinge of excitement that came with jumping headfirst into chaos. Great, just what he needed. Another day, another world-ending catastrophe.
He turned to Clint and Natasha, who were already heading for the door.
"Hey, do you think if I make a really snarky comment about Pierce's fashion choices, it'll throw him off his game?" Harry asked.
Clint snorted. "I dunno, kid. It's worth a shot. Just don't expect him to laugh."
Natasha rolled her eyes. "If you survive this, I'll buy you a drink. But only if you promise not to talk about Pierce's fashion choices ever again."
"Deal," Harry said, grinning. Because at this point, it was either laugh or scream. And since screaming probably wouldn't solve anything, he figured he'd stick with the first option.
---
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