This was just a plot bunny that I had to put down on 'paper', Iris is essentially like canon Harry just Fem!Harry, that and Hermione ended up dating Neville instead of the verbally abusive foodsack but the relationship ended amicably. Anyway if anyone wants more of this let me know through reviews.


Iris Dorea Potter was awoken from a rather sound sleep by her mobile phone's insensate ringing. The only reason the very hung over Lady Black even bothered grabbing the device was due to the ringtone.

The Ramones I Wanna Sedated. Maybe not the best song for the witch in question, but Iris often felt the need to self medicate after dealing with this particular friend for extended periods of time so she felt it fit.

"Hello Luna, how are you?" The redhead asked while yawning, the dreamy voice on the other end of the line was as always, not quite all there.

"Hello Iris Potter, how are you doing this afternoon?"

Iris didn't quite manage to hold back her groan, "Moonbeam you're five hours ahead of New York time remember? It's freaking eight in the morning and I am monumentally hungover, sweet merciless Morrigan the next time someone suggests multiple Irish car bombs I'm going to hex them..."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry for waking you then Iris Potter," the woman in question pulled her mobile away from her ear just long enough to glare at it. Luna didn't sound sorry in the slightest, in fact she sounded slightly amused, why did she have friends again?

Oh Goddess...her bloody head was throbbing...

"Regardless," Luna continued unabated, "I just wanted to let you know that I was performing a bit of scrying and noticed one of your more lucrative investments is going to have a dramatic drop in value in the next few months followed by a steady increase. I thought since you have continued to exile yourself in America you might wish to go to the next board meeting and find out what is going on."

Still on her back Iris pulled her nightstand drawer open and blindly groped about for her target. Grinning as her nimble fingers wrapped around the thin glass tube the Witch-Who-Won popped the cork out with a flick of her thumb and downed the hangover potion in record time.

Head finally clearing she sat up as she replied to her long time friend. "You suggest, or Hermione suggests?"

The blonde giggled a bit at that, "Oh Hermione of course, do you honestly think I'd use my seer abilities to watch the groups investments rather then finally tracking down a crumple-horned snorkack?"

Right, there was that, "Ok ok, what investment is it?" Iris stumbled out of bed grimacing when she caught sight of herself in the rooms full length mirror, a shower was a must.

"Hmm...Stark Industries, they're-"

Iris cut her off at that, "Defense contractors, make lots of boom for the yanks to go start wars to make more money, yeah I know. Huzzah for the military industrial complex."

Luna lost the dreamy tone to her voice as she sniffed with a bit of disdain, "Yes well, we profit off of it do we not? So really do any of us have the right to judge?" Damn, Iris didn't even realize Luna could sound disdainful, learn something new every day.

"Yes well, I'm also a hypocrite to the extreme so hey, there's that, right?"

Luna regained her playful tone at this statement, "Quite true, the board meeting is next week in Malibu, California. I'll text you the address."

Iris frowned at that, "Wait, Malibu? The companies primary headquarters is here in New York City, what gives?"

Luna sighed in what sounded weirdly enough like satisfaction, "Oh you must not know anything about Tony Stark Iris Potter, I think you'll find him quite interesting." And with that one of her oldest, most aggravating friends hung up.

A week later Iris took a port key out to the west coast, and much to her own personal pleasure managed to not throw up upon landing in a secluded alley. Hey, it was the little things in life that kept one going, especially those who would likely never see their homeland again despite the hole the absence made in their heart.

Deep breaths. Don't think about that right now. Move onward, don't look back.

Pulling her Godfather's shrunken Bonneville T120 from her leather jacket's pocket Iris placed it on the ground and tapped it once with the Deathstick. As it returned to its proper size the twenty eight year old witch glanced up at the burning California sun and wilted under its heat. Sighing she cast a cooling charm on herself, pulled on a pair of mirrored aviators, and hopped onto the black bike.

Grinning as she felt the familiar thrum of the old bikes engine beneath her Iris gently walked the Bonneville out of the alley she'd arrived in and with a kick was accelerating down the road. Now, time to find out why this Tony Stark was so Goddess be damned important.


Tony Stark felt like crap, he was hung over, running late, and Obadiah kept throwing him disappointed looks. Tony was thirty eight years old and should not for any reason feel any sort of shame for his actions, but damn did Obadiah manage to make him feel like a little kid every time he shot him with one of those stares.

"Tony are you even listening?" Tony nodded absently as he did some complex trig in his head to make sure he was actually functional, everything came back clear so he gave his only real father figure a thumbs up in turn.

"Yeah, this meeting is important, in a week I'm heading out to Afghanistan to show off the new Jericho missile and I have to explain exactly why it's such a big deal."

Obadiah shot him 'the' look before drawling out, "Sober, Tony."

Glancing at the untouched minibar the limo so helpfully offered he nodded once, "Right...sober..."

Pulling up to the west coast Stark Industries headquarters Tony climbed out of the limo after Obadiah and stretched a bit as he glared up at the burning California sun. He really didn't want to do this, he'd rather be off drinking, or tinkering, or better yet, drinking and tinkering, yet here he was.

He didn't even have Pepper to keep him distracted, oddly enough this little shindig fell on one of her far too infrequent days off.

Lamenting the loss of one of the few people who bothered trying to understand him Tony fell in beside Obadiah when he heard the distinct thrum of a motorcycle's engine. As the sound came closer Tony turned in its direction to see an antique bike roar its way in front of the building. Coming to a stop the rider, a rather shapely woman as a matter of fact, kicked the stand out and hopped off the now idling vehicle.

As the valet rushed towards the woman she pulled a wallet from her jackets pocket and flashed her ID, "I'm here for the board meeting, don't scratch the bike, your job depends on it." The young man stared at her a moment then nodded, paying him no more attention the woman walked past the two waiting men and Tony finally got a good look at her.

5'5", if that, worn but well cared for jeans, broken in black combat boots, brown leather bomber jacket, Iron Maiden t-shirt, waist length hair the color of rubies, and all the right curves in the right places. As she approached the buildings doors she turned to assess them as she slid the mirrored shades off and Tony froze when her emerald eyes locked onto his gaze, smiling coyly she flipped her hair over her shoulder and entered the building.

"Obadiah...who was that?" Stane seemed highly amused as he clapped Tony's shoulder heavily, a bit too heavily at that.

"That son was the Countess Black, Iris Potter. She's one of our primary investors and a bit of an enigma, and yes, I meant Countess, as in part of the British peerage system." With that the large man stuck his hands in his pockets and made for the building as Tony belatedly began following him, mind no where near as clear as it had been a few moments earlier.