A/N: What, you didn't expect there to be a teaser/epilogue in the middle of the credits? Of course there is, this is Marvel! Well, Marvel-ish. Sorta. Close enough, right?
Recommendation: Story recommendation for this chapter is "A Place Where I Belong" by Corwalch. After realizing how much he has been used and lied to by others, Harry decides he doesn't want to remain in the magical world after he defeats Voldemort. Stargate/HP crossover.
Chapter 12 - Epilogue
Asgard. Time: Irrelevant.
Loki stepped slowly and cautiously into the mist-filled area. He was on dangerous ground here: entering this place meant taking his life into his hands, and he had debated for weeks about whether to go through with this plan at all. In the end, though, he realized that he needed this: he needed to get some glimpse of the future, to know what was to come.
He had spent too many restless nights and endured too many nightmares about what lay ahead. He needed either reassurance or warning — at this point, either would do. Unfortunately, for all his magical knowledge and prowess, he had always been complete shite at divination. That was why he was seeking out an expert on the subject, someone whose skills were legendary.
He stopped when he heard a noise, but when it didn't come again he continued moving forward. Eventually the mist began to clear, and he found himself approaching a small table. On the other side sat the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He drank in the sight of her alabaster skin, her red hair that shone like fire, and her hypnotic green eyes. Completely nude except for a few wisps of gauzy fabric that hid absolutely nothing, she was a mesmerizing sight. At that moment he'd have given anything to spend a night with her... no, he'd have given anything just to sit at her feet and bask in the glory of her presence! To receive even a single encouraging word from her would be better than...
Loki shook his head violently, trying to regain a semblance of mental balance. There must be something in this mist, he thought. I'm more than old enough not to be so affected by a nude woman, no matter how mind-bogglingly gorgeous... no matter how perfectly shaped her breasts...
Loki shook his head again, this time harder. "I'll not be diverted by your sorcery," Loki said, trying to remain polite. "I will keep my own mind while I am here."
"Oh, Loki Odinson," the woman said with a disappointed sigh. "Why else would you have come to my boudoir" — she began lightly tracing a finger around her breast — "if not to sample what I have to offer?"
Gulping, Loki said, "I do indeed seek what you have to offer." When she gave him a predatory smile and lifted one leg up on the arm of her throne-like chair, he quickly continued, "But it is not the pleasures of the flesh which I seek; rather, it is knowledge."
Her smile did not abate; if anything, it only widened. "Were you not informed that one rarely comes without the other?" When Loki tried to step back, he found that he was rooted to the spot. "Oh, no, Loki Odinson — once you get this far, you must either keep moving forward or remain forever in place. And now that you are here, it is time to bargain. Most who come to me seeking knowledge of the future, be they male or female, are more than happy to trade a bit of time in my bed for that knowledge. And I always make it worth their while."
She paused for a moment and looked him up and down as one would a fine cut of meat. "I can be tempted with other payment on occasion," she said, "but I much prefer to tempt you. My bed gets oh-so-lonely, and I much desire some company. It's been such a long, long time since I've experienced royal company, too." The last was followed by her licking her lips in obvious anticipation.
Loki nearly wet himself in fear.
He'd been warned about her appetites and desires — warned, and told in no uncertain terms not to give in, not unless he was willing to give up quite a bit of his life's energy and even magic to her. The sex was great — he had been assured of that. Those who bedded her were unanimous in their praise of what it was like. Well, those who bedded her and survived were unanimous; but they all returned looking older and somewhat diminished from the experience, the near-constant smile on their faces notwithstanding.
Not all who visited her managed even that, however, and it was whispered that some were simply drained to the point of death.
Loki forced his legs to start moving again and dropped heavily in the chair on the other side of the table that was in front of her. "What else might you be willing to take in payment?" he asked. "I have much that I can offer, given my position."
She removed her leg from the chair's arm and leaned forward against the table, making her breasts even more enticing as they swayed just above the tabletop. Loki swallowed thickly and tried hard to keep looking her straight in the eye, but he wasn't sure that that was an improvement — not with the naked lust he saw there.
"Really? Loki Odinson has something better than himself to offer me? Tell me, then — this I must hear. Freyja is always willing to listen to an interesting offer."
Eventually, after a great deal of haggling, Loki was able to convince Freyja to give him a reading about his future in exchange for a emerald diadem from Jotunheim. It was him telling her that it brought out the beauty of her green eyes that finally convinced her to accept the deal, but the looks she kept giving him after that caused him to consider that perhaps his casual compliment had been a mistake.
Freyja prepared a bowl of bones and began to recite an incantation over it when she suddenly gasped and froze, her eyes rolling back in her head until only the whites could be seen. Loki started to panic, worried about what might have happened to her, and was about to get up and see if he could help when she began speaking in a deep, gravelly voice that didn't sound like it could possibly come from her body.
Beware the approach of the Black Witch.
Death's Mistress, hunted by Death's Suitor, shadowed by Death's Father,
The She-Hound of Fate will reunite with the Brave Eagle.
Weaving together might, magic, and mastery,
They will forge a path from either love or anger.
To avenge the fallen when titans struggle,
Or else cast down the gods and rule in their stead.
Like a serpent they hover with waiting venom,
And the Nine Realms shall tremble before their wrath.
The son who is not a son must find his blood and decide
To either be bound by his blood or bound by his choices.
He will see in her a kindred spirit, equal and opposite;
Through royal cunning she will be mentored in royal magic.
And when she finally comes for him, he will know his destiny.
Afterwards, Freyja began to sway slightly in her chair and, with a shake of her head, seemed to come back to herself. She looked around as if she weren't entirely sure where she was, then fixed Loki with a hard stare. "Did I just say something? In an unusual voice, perhaps?"
"Ye-yes, you did," Loki stammered. "I didn't understand what was going on and wanted to help, but I wasn't sure if I should interfere."
"It is well you did not, Loki Odinson," Freyja responded. "It appears that I was chosen to be the vehicle for a great gift for you — an oracle, rather than a simple act of divination. I suppose I sold my time and wisdom to you far too cheaply." Loki's mouth went dry at this, but she waved her hand dismissively as she continued, "Fear not — a deal is a deal, and I will not go back on what we have agreed to." She narrowed her eyes and looked at him lustily before saying, "I will, however, be keeping my eye on you. Not only is your form pleasing to these eyes, but there must be a great fate in store for you, if you were the recipient of an oracle."
Loki blinked a few times in surprise, then said, "Perhaps you can help me understand it. You said—" But he got no further before she interrupted him.
"No, say no more," Freyja commanded. "The vehicle for an oracle is prevented from hearing whatever it is she says, and it is not right that she learn of it after. The words were for your ears alone. It is up to you to understand and apply them. If you cannot," Freyja shrugged expressively, "then I am afraid that you will deserve whatever punishment has been decreed for you by fate."
She leaned forward again, her breasts swaying once more above the tabletop. "I beseech you, though, to heed the words and apply yourself to whatever lesson they are intended to teach. It would be" — she licked her lips slowly — "such a terrible waste if anything untoward were to happen to you."
Loki swallowed hard and stood, suddenly wanting to be somewhere else, anywhere else. As he stumbled back the way he came, he could hear her laughter drifting through the mist. Damned sorceress, he thought bitterly.
Mount Sinai Hospital, New York City. September 16, 2009. 3:41 PM.
Iris Potter sighed as the wheelchair rolled through the hospital corridor. It had taken much longer for her to be released than she had hoped for, and while she was still stiff, sore, and weak, she was incredibly anxious to get out and back to her life. Or back to something close to her life. Anywhere but the hospital would be welcome at this...
"This is Bushy Witch," came a voice from behind her. "We're prepared to exfoliate! ETA in, uh, a minute or so."
"Oh, sweet Merlin," Iris moaned softly as she buried her head in her hands. She couldn't see Hermione's broad grin, but as she started remembering little things from the past few days, she realized belatedly that every time Hermione had mentioned the weeks she'd be spending nursing Iris back to health, there'd been a quick little smile that flitted across her face. "I am so going to regret guilting you into taking care of me, aren't I?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione said in a perfectly sweet and innocent voice — a voice that Iris no longer trusted at all.
Just like the last time they had done this, they exited through the hospital doors and were immediately blinded by the bright sunlight. Once she could see again, Iris noticed that they were heading straight for another one of Tony's cars — one of his insanely expensive and fast cars, as a matter of fact.
"Uh, Hermione?" Iris asked hesitantly. "Can you handle a car like that?"
"It's a car," Hermione said, shrugging. "How hard can it be?"
"You drove it here, right? I mean, you have experience with it?" Iris asked.
"No, Happy dropped it off," Hermione responded. "Tony's letting me borrow it because mine's in the shop. He said it was easy to drive, though."
Iris gulped audibly but allowed herself to be helped into the passenger seat. Sure, she thought nervously, how hard can it be?
Iris wasn't even aware when they finally stopped. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't seeing anything — not after the trip she'd just endured. Four tickets! she mentally shouted. Four! Two of them along the same block, no less!
She steadfastly refused to say anything aloud, though, because she had committed herself to trust in Hermione and not engage in anything that might sound like petty bickering. She had made a lot of mistakes in the past and was trying hard to be a better person.
"This, uh, may be a bit more car than I can handle right now..." Hermione said slowly.
"Ya think?!" Iris blurted out, then took a couple of deep breaths before continuing, "Sorry, it's just that that was... well..."
"Yeah, I know," Hermione said. "No matter — we're here now."
"Here?" Iris asked as Hermione got out of the car and came around to help her. "Where's here, exactly?" She didn't really need the help — not much, at any rate — but it was easier with an arm to grab, and it made Hermione feel better.
As she looked around, she noticed the sign of the restaurant that they'd sort of tried to have dinner at a few months earlier. "So, is this why you had me dress nice before you'd let me leave the hospital? And why you were dressed nice as well?"
"Yep," Hermione answered as she pushed the button to lock up the car. "I messed up our dinner here before, so I thought I'd make it up to you by taking you out on a date here to celebrate your release."
"A date, huh?" Iris asked as she raised her eyebrows in curiosity.
"Sure," Hermione said, not quite looking at the auburn-haired witch. "Why not?"
"No flowers?" Iris asked with a mischievous smile.
"Flowers?" Hermione repeated, her brow furrowed in confusion; then her eyes went wide as she remembered their conversation on Tony's plane during the trip back from Monaco. Blushing slightly, she said, "No, no flowers. I'm, uh, honestly not ready for that. Not yet, I mean."
"That's fine, Hermione," Iris responded, suddenly remorseful that her teasing was making Hermione uncomfortable. "I was only jok—"
"Besides," Hermione interrupted quickly, "you're obviously not healthy enough for flowers. We have to get you sorted first — then we'll talk about flowers." She opened the door and ushered a stunned Iris inside.
If asked later, Iris wouldn't have been able to tell anyone the details of what they had talked about during their early dinner date. Nor would she have been able to remember what they ordered or what the food had tasted like. She was far too engrossed in looking at Hermione, enjoying being out of the hospital, and wondering about the possible implications of the words "not yet." If I ever needed an incentive to get healthy again quickly, she concluded, that will do it.
Somehow Hermione talked her into finally getting in touch with at least a few of their old friends back in Britain, though Iris managed to convince her that it would be best if Iris simply included a short, personal note the next time Hermione wrote to someone. Iris still wasn't comfortable with connecting with her old life, but she knew she couldn't put it off forever — not if she was going to build something with Hermione, who was in regular contact with people there.
All in all it was a romantic dinner — romantic enough that near the end, Iris started feeling brave enough to try nudging things along a little bit. Scooting her chair around the small, intimate table until she was right next to a slightly surprised-looking Hermione, she put her right hand over one of Hermione's on the table and her left around the back of her date's chair.
"This was a lovely idea, Hermione," Iris said softly as she leaned in a little.
"So, does it make up for the last time?"
"Mostly," Iris said, this time a bit softer, forcing Hermione to lean in a little to hear.
"Mostly?" Hermione asked as she stared into Iris' green eyes. "What else would you need?"
"I'm sure we can think of something," Iris said as she leaned in a bit more, noticing that Hermione was mirroring her movements now. She could feel Hermione's soft breath on her lips, and then...
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Both witches jumped apart at the sound, and Iris cursed quietly as she fumbled to get her phone out. Neither noticed the waiter — the same one from last time, who had immediately recognized the couple when they came in — close his eyes and slowly shake his head in resignation.
"What on earth is that?" Hermione asked, annoyed at the incredibly ill-timed interruption.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.," Iris said. "I turned off the sound, but their alerts can't be turned off unless I shut down the phone entirely."
"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked, more concerned than annoyed now.
"I don't know," Iris said slowly. "It's a message from Coulson." She took a moment to read the message, then looked up at Hermione with her lopsided smile. "Fancy a trip to New Mexico?"