Not the Only One

Disclaimer: I own nothing of note so don't bother suing.

Warnings: Slash relationships, may include triggers for cutting, cursing, allusions to past abuse.

Summary: Harry isn't blind to the looks between them. It kills him to know he's not the only one but what can he do?

AN: 10/4: I reposted the chapter since someone kindly pointed out to me that the subjects were all out of whack. It was actually horrifying to realize it was and there were no sorts of indicators to show when there was a shift in POV or just a scene ending. I forgot that the doc manager takes the page breaks out once you upload them. What do I have to say in my defense? I was operating on an hour and twenty minutes of sleep and my brain refused to shut down because I had this in my head. So, I sat down and got this down and didn't really think before I posted it. I am so, so sorry for that and will avoid doing so in the future. Thank you for the reviews and support so far you are all amazing! The line of dots indicates changes in POV and scenes.

Enjoy.

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Green eyes opened as the door slipped shut softly, with barely a whisper of sound. If he hadn't been waiting for it, he never would have heard it. He kept his breathing even and shifted slightly as the bed dropped.

The empty space beside him welcomed him and his warmth spread until it reached Harry. It made him feel safe. It used to make him feel loved.

It still does sometimes. When Harry isn't waiting until four in the morning for Steve to come home, when he doesn't catch them steeling glances at each other from across the room, Harry can still pretend everything is all right.

He can tell himself that Steve loves him and only him, that there is no once else.

It's a lie of course. When he receives a call right before Steve is supposed to come home and eat dinner, and as he packs it all away for later consumption—he knows. As he lies in bed waiting for the quiet arrival of his lover, he knows.

Anyone with eyes can see it or it seems that way at least; to him in any case.

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He sits in silence as he watches the sun come up, hot cup of tea in hand; legs crossed and pensive look on his face. Harry isn't sure when it began and thinks he doesn't really wants to know.

He feels a special kind of rage when he thinks about them together. He's never seen them do anything, nothing at all to suggest that there is more than friendship between them but he knows.

Harry James Potter did not survive a war and kill the most powerful dark lord in the history of magic by chance or luck. He did not survive it, emerge victorious because of something as asinine as any of that. And no matter what people may believe, including the woman herself, he did not survive because of Hermione Granger's intelligence.

Oh, no. Harry had learned early on in life that the more people underestimated you, the more likely you were to escape with all of your limbs in tact. Show the occasional glimmer of brilliance and let them scoff at the luck it must have taken for life to favor you just this once.

And Harry had always, always made sure to save those moments for when it really counted.

No, Harry was not stupid by any stretch of the imagination.

He also wasn't blind. He had perfect vision now six years passed, ever since he took the very recent eye corrective potion. He was in possession of all of his faculties and he knew that Steve was cheating on him.

So much for the perfect moral man who valued honesty and loyalty above all else, Harry thought bitterly as he prepared himself yet again for the morning after.

Oh, Harry knew Steve was both of these things and more but he also had a weakness, a chink in his armor a mile wide and his name was James Barnes.

Bucky Barnes had served everyone better dead than alive if you asked him.

Steve had mourned him, him and all he had lost and then he had moved on. He had met Harry, chased him and worn him down until he had said yes. They'd gone on that one date and never looked back. He scoffs as he all but slams the cup of tea down on the table.

Correction, he had never looked back.

"Are you okay love?" He straightened and closed his eyes as arms wrapped around him, pulling close and into the arms of a man he cannot imagine ever being without. He wanted to scream and shout and rage and beat his hands against the impenetrable flesh but he doesn't.

No. Instead, he pasted a smile onto his face and got up. "Go, get ready. I'll make you breakfast." Harry said instead and moved into the kitchen. He opened the door of the fridge and he could feel those lovely blue eyes on his back.

They do nothing for him and he pulled out what he needed until the pressure of those eyes faded as Steve got ready for the day. Harry is already dressed and ready to go. He wanted to leave early and simply leave a note but he doesn't. He can't bring himself to leave Steve alone.

Harry made enough breakfast to feed a small army. Steve ate enough for ten men and it wont be long before—knock knock. His hand tightened on the handle of the pan he's holding as he dished out eggs onto three plates. He can imagine the satisfaction he would get from opening up that door and smashing the still hot pan into that bastard's face, the shock in brown eyes as the pain blossomed on his face—he set the pan down on the marble top as he walked over and opened the door.

"Bucky," he said with a frosty smile and Bucky smiles back like nothing was wrong in the world, "come on in, we're just about to eat." He left the door open, expecting Bucky to follow and he does, he always does.

Harry made his way into the kitchen and gestured for Bucky to sit. Steve walked in then, decked out in simple, functional clothes and yet managed to look like a model off a runway. He looked at Bucky with that look on his face, the same one he used to look at Harry with, the one that used to be held exclusively for him.

Now, now he has to share he thinks bitterly as Steve bends down to kiss him, eyes open and looking at Bucky. Harry wants to pull away; he wanted to cry because here is Steve kissing him and yet wanting to kiss Bucky, to wrap his arms around him freely. Here he is, kissing Steve, looking at Steve, looking at Bucky and neither of them even noticing he can see them.

They sit and talk and Steve's arm stretches across his back like a furnace, a brand marking him, binding him to this place Harry sometimes wishes desperately he could leave.

The occasional gesture of affection is enough for Harry to sit there and watch them make eyes at each other when they think he isn't looking. Its enough to make him sit in silence as they devour each other over the breakfast he made, the time of the day shared with the man who has stolen Steve from him. It is enough and Harry wishes it wasn't; he knows how pathetic that is.

He knows and he sees but he says nothing.

"I'll wait for you outside," Bucky said as he walked out of the apartment so Steve could say his goodbyes in private. Like he actually cared. Harry watched him go and wondered what was the point; it wouldn't make Steve stay with him. No matter how much his heart broke more and more each time, Steve is already gone—with him, with Bucky. He never really exists anywhere that Bucky isn't.

It hurt more than it should at this point. It was a wound that refused to close, breaking open a little more each time and gushing red with the pieces of his broken heart.

Steve pulled Harry into his arms and cupped his face. "Thank you for breakfast love, I'll see you tonight for dinner?" He asked and Harry looked into his eyes and wondered if Steve would one day just not come home, not for dinner—not ever. Harry forced himself to keep looking into those eyes and smiled—pushing all the love and devotion he has left in his heart for Steve into them as he does. He felt only marginally better at the guilt he can see grow in those eyes.

He watched Steve's eyes darken as his eyes slipped shut for a moment—is it regret, do you feel guilt for what you've done to me?—before he smiled down at him and kissed him gently and ever so sweetly. Just like he used to when it was just him and Steve.

It makes his heart bleed but Harry is used to it. He must be a masochist and with the way he grew up it isn't really all that surprising. Steve walked out the door with a final, "Have a good day at work" and Harry can see the way they walk down the hall close together, closer than normal friends should.

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Do they even care? Harry has wondered, and how could he not, if they do this purposely; Steve because he would never leave Harry, he is a man of honor and leaving Harry after promising him forever and knowing what he does about his life—no. Steve would never leave him. Of course, Harry had also been certain he would never stray and look at how that turned out but no, he won't leave, he won't ever leave.

Bucky, well he's harder to read but having regained his memories recently, Harry can hazard a guess and say Bucky's determined to keep the only reminder of his old close to him. If Harry is honest and he's never been anything but where it matters, he knows it is only partially that and Bucky truly loves Steve but so does Harry.

Where does that leave them?

With this apparently because Steve can't let go of Harry and Harry can't walk away from Steve and Bucky is still stupidly and completely infatuated with the boy he had protected from harm when no one could protect him. It's a long and complicated web of their fucked up issues and no one knowing how to fix this.

Harry looks down at his hand, pain blooming in his left hand as the shards of glass dug deeper into his skin. The glass he'd been washing had shattered and the pieces had lodged into his skin.

He stares down blankly at his hand as he watches the rain of red fall and spread in the sink. He pulls his hand closer and marvels at the way the color looks against his skin. It really is beautiful he thinks as he pulls out a few shards.

He startles as his alarm goes off and banishes the shards away. He cleans the wound quickly, disinfects it and heads out.

He had work to do and at least it would distract him from the torture this house, no longer a home, had become.

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That night, Steve doesn't make it to dinner but he does come back around 10pm and Harry blinks slightly in surprise but shrugs as he points to containers with the food he had packed away for lunch tomorrow never looking up from the book in his hand.

He startles badly when Steve pulls his injured hand into his and demands to know what happened. Harry stares at Steve and stares at his hand with a considering look on his face but shakes his head and quickly discards the thought. "I cut it on accident while washing the dishes this morning."

He expects that to be the end of it but Steve just looks at his hand and then at his face and his face is filled with an expression he cannot name. He unwraps Harry's hand and goes through the process of gently cleaning and disinfecting it despite Harry protests.

Steve spends the night almost pampering him and holding him until Harry falls asleep.

The next morning, Steve is already up and breakfast is waiting for him when he steps out of the room. A hot cup of his favorite tea is sitting next to his plate and Harry stares down at it blankly and at the single placement of a plate across from him. "Isn't Bucky joining us?" He asks as hollowly as Steve sits across from him and tells him to eat.

"No. No, he isn't." Steve says and begins to eat, eyes averted from his and focused on his plate. They eat breakfast in silence and say their goodbyes. Steve promises to be home in time for dinner and Harry makes the appropriate noises but rolls his eyes as they split up at the entrance of their complex and thinks nothing more of it.

That night he makes dinner half-heartedly, not really expecting Steve to come home and more or less waiting for the call and the half-assed excuse that isn't fooling anyone. He picks at the mac and cheese fresh out of the oven and nearly falls over in shock as the door opens and Steve walks in with flowers and a bottle of his favorite wine in hand.

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Harry stares at Steve in befuddlement and Steve laughs almost painfully because he looks adorable, all flustered and pleasantly surprised like that. He sets down the bottle of wine and brown paper bag as he walks up to Harry and kisses him softly and places the flowers in his hand.

Steve wraps his arms around Harry's waist and kisses him deeply and with ardor. He pulls away when breathing becomes difficult and smiles at the dazed but pleased look on his face. "Go on, put on something nice on while I finish this up." He says as he pushes Harry in the direction of their room and gets to work.

When Harry emerges not long after, he is met with lowered lights and a candle-lit table and the flowers he just received already in water in his favorite vase. Steve gave him that vase for his birthday the first year they met. It was Harry's favorite.

He takes this all in and says nothing, trying to push the choking feeling in his chest away. He closes his eyes and opens them only once he's regained his equilibrium.

He eats and talks and laughs like he knows nothing and after a while he relaxes and allows himself to relish the moment. Harry could remember a time when this was normal for them, surprises and quite moments spent together, just the two of them and oh, oh how he has missed this, how he has missed them.

The night is a good one and it ends with round after round of love making and it's only Harry's exhaustion that puts an end to their night. He tries to stay awake, really he does—trying to hold onto this moment but fails and succumbs to the call of sleep as he lays in the arms of the man he loves. He'd cry if he still had the energy for what he had lost and can't seem to let go of.

It's almost as if nothing has changed.

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Everything has been good; it's been amazing actually. No more late nights without good reason, no more coming in at four in the morning smelling like soap and Harry is happy. He is hopeful that he has nothing to worry about any more. Maybe they just needed one last run? Maybe they just needed the closure?

Maybe Steve had realized that after six years together, after six years of loving only Harry, that he knew it what he had with Bucky was simply nostalgia?

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Everything is looking up and Harry is exited for the trip to New York for Tony's party. He can't wait to see him and Pepper and time flies before he finds himself in DC.

Harry laughed as Tony bantered with Pepper as he took a sip from his drink. Jack and coke, it is his absolute favorite and Tony knows it. He's been plying Harry with it, a very heavily loaded jack and coke too.

It's a small dinner party Tony is hosting for the company at Stark Tower and Harry is actually having a really good time. He had missed going out with Tony and Pepper but they hadn't really had the time since they had made the move to DC and since Bucky came into their lives.

Steve is actually by his side and holding him close and brushing kisses against his lips, his forehead and his nose—but only because it makes his nose scrunch up and Harry hates it but Steve thinks it's adorable.

Harry is having a great time.

Steve's presence helps but Bucky's absence clinches it, really. Harry may hate the bloody bastard but no one abhors him quite like Tony. He's working on it, Pepper is encouraging it (re: making him) considering Bucky wasn't really in control but Tony has trouble accepting the man who murdered his parents with open arms.

Harry supports the sentiment, in silence because he isn't an idiot.

It's a great night and nothing can ruin it.

Harry really should stop tempting fate, he thinks afterwards. Steve had disappeared about an hour ago and Harry had gone in search of his wayward lover. He really wished he hadn't. Maybe then he could continue to live in his blissful little bubble of hope and happiness.

He pauses as he finds them there, moving against each other and looking so bloody fucking perfect while they do so it's infuriating.

Super soldiers getting caught with their pants down would be quite the headline. Maybe Harry will add in something to remind people that this is the man who has murdered countless of innocent people throughout the last fifty years and, most recently, has taken the lives to at least a dozen innocents in his quest to kill their beloved Captain America.

The journalist in him wants to go with it.

The rest of him is falling to pieces all around him. He turns and walks away without a sound and tries to erase the images of them together from his mind but it's impossible. He closes his eyes but the images, they're seared into his brain and he can see that pale skin move against that tanned expanse of skin he knows so well.

He takes the elevator back up and makes his excuses with Tony and Pepper citing possible food poisoning and takes his leave.

He walks through the streets of New York at one of the morning and takes the familiar twists and turns to the park by his old apartment. He makes it to his bench and feels his magic twist and churn, begging for an outlet, any outlet.

He desperately wants to give it one.

It's one thing to know something and entirely different thing to see it; to see the truth you've been certain of unveil before you and choke you with it's brutal and complete honestly.

It hurts deeply, more than it should have, seeing them like that. It hurts more than he thought it would every time he imagined them together, knowing they were together. It should be infuriating, he should have done something but he didn't.

He did nothing then and he won't do anything now.

His magic pushes and pulls until he relents. He stands and makes his way out of the park, as his magic let's loose and destroys everything around him.

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Steve is home before him and he asks him where he's been, if he's okay and his favorite, "Why didn't you come get me? I would have brought you home." Harry glances at him as he strips down to his boxers and says nothing, eyes blank and unwilling to show any emotion right this moment.

Steve stops asking questions after Harry looks him in the eye with a dead, broken look in his eyes that makes his chest tighten until he turns away, his back to him. "I'm tired. Good night."

There is nothing more devastating than hope and Harry should know better, he should know but apparently he doesn't. He cries silently until he falls asleep. No more is said and Steve watches, concern etching his features and guilt making his stomach churn as he watches his little lover sleep.

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They're scheduled to leave the next morning and Steve is being extra careful as he packed, trying to let Harry sleep a little longer as he packed the last of their things away as Harry walked into the living room of the suite Tony had insisted they stay at, on him.

Harry stared at him blankly and pulled his duffle away and begun to pull his clothes out. "What are you doing?" Steve asked confused.

"I'm staying a few more days. Tony wants to take me out to a few places. That and I've missed Pepper." Harry says without looking at him. "Have you eaten?" He continued as he eyed the clock. "You should head out soon or you'll miss your flight." He finished as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Steve stood frozen in place and could only watch helplessly after him. He stood there for a long time until Harry walked back out, a bagel and cup in hand, filled with tea no doubt. He opened to mouth to argue, to question, to do something, and Harry waited for him expectantly.

"Harry, if you still feel sick I'll st—" Steve is cut off as his phone rings beside him and he glanced down and quickly looked back up at Harry as the name Bucky flashed up at them.

Cold emerald eyes bored into him and Harry smiled coldly, "You should get that, it's probably important. Right?" He heads into the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Steve alone in silence as the phone stopped ringing.

Steve tried to get Harry to talk to him but he'd miss his flight and Fury would not be happy is he missed his check in time for the day's mission.

Harry heard the door shut and canceled the monitoring spell as he stood and walked over to the bed and curled up into a ball.

He tried, he really did but the tears that threaten to fall can't be stopped. They've been denied so long and refuse to hold back any longer. He falls asleep like that and a small part of him wished he could slip away into a long, blessed sleep and know no more of this.

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He finally heads back to DC after two weeks of being cheered up by both Tony and Pepper and Harry isn't too sure they know about Steve and Bucky. Tony is being too nice as he talks about Steve and Harry knows Tony, knows how fiercely protective he is about those he cares about and considers family.

If Tony knew, Steve would not be in one piece right now and he would definitely not tease him about leaving Steve alone for so long.

It's hard to say goodbye to two of his favorite people but he does so and now here he is again. He stares at his front door and wonders if he should just leave again, go somewhere to be alone with his thoughts for a while.

Harry pushes those thoughts away and uses his key to get in. He sighs and drops his bag by the entrance and heads to his chair and sinks into it. He hates flying on planes and not even a ride on a private jet can change his mind.

He sits up as he sees a pair of pants on the floor that he doesn't recognize and sinks his head into his hands, viciously pushing the tears from his eyes. No, no, no. He's wrong; it's not what it looks like.

That thought startles a bitter laugh out of him. Not what it looks like? How can he delude himself when any doubt he ever had has been erased? How can he sit here and try to find an excuse for, for this?

He should stop but he can't; if nothing else, Harry is a product of his upbringing—clinging to the few good things in his life even when they went bad.

He forces himself so his feet and makes his way down the hallway and past a collection of photos hanging by the wall. It's filled with years of memories frozen in time, reminders of so many of the good times they shared.

He stops and stares at them, his eyes landing first on the one of them at Coney Island. That had been their first date and Steve is giving Harry a piggyback ride. Harry is looking out at the camera but Steve is looking at him, head tilted back and a smile on his face that Harry misses.

The sounds coming from behind the door are unmistakable, "Ste—Steve! Pleas—pleauhhhh." His magic lashes out, just as it did at the park as Harry turns and reaches for the door. He hesitates and his magic reads him, knows him so very well as an extension of him and the door and the walls melt away from his view until he can see inside and he can see but he doesn't want to.

He doesn't want to see this again.

He turns away and makes his way back out the door, past the shattered frames and the clothes strewn on the floor until he reaches the door and leaves. He takes his bag and leaves, he runs and runs until his lungs burn and he can't run anymore.

These last two weeks he had thought long and hard about them, about their relationship and about all the lies and the hurt and Harry just wanted it to end. He had made a decision and Harry had been determined to follow through. He loved Steve more than he could bare but he couldn't live like this. How long before he lost control and killed them both?

What scared him deeply was not knowing who he wanted to kill. Both—both Steve and Bucky? Or, or Steve and himself?

The thought terrified him.

After living the live he had lived and having endured the Dursley's, Voldemort, the Death Eater's, living, fighting, and surviving a war—he had been left scared and broken but never, never before had he contemplated taking his own life as often as he had lately. No, it was time for one of them to make the move.

Harry was just so tired of pretending not to see, of having his heart stomped on and broken over and over again.

How many times? How many fucking times had they been together in his home?

It made him feel dirty and violated to know they had been together on their, on his—on their bed!

Harry was willing to set him free. He was willing to let Steve go so that he could be with Bucky and at least one of them could be truly happy. Harry would leave Steve because Steve would never leave Harry, especially with the guilt of cheating on him. No, Steve would never leave.

Well, Harry had been willing to let him go but now, now Harry was going to stay.

He was going to pretend nothing was going on and he was going to make Steve look at him like he used to if only to watch the heartbreak and despair in those God forsaken brown eyes. He was going to flaunt their relationship at every opportunity to watch that bloody bastard shut down as he saw Steve freely expressing his affection for him in a time and a place where he wouldn't be lynched for it.

Everything that Bucky had every wanted for Steve and himself Harry was going to flaunt his possession of. Walking down the street hand in hand, kissing Steve in front of their friends and putting his arms around him when they went out to eat.

Marriage.

And oh, what a beautiful wedding it would be. Bucky wanted to play games? Well, fine then.

Harry could play. After all, he had always been meant to be in Slytherin.

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He called Steve and let him know he was going to be back that day.

He was met with only Steve for breakfast that day at their apartment and cast a few cleaning charms and put an extra oomph behind them. He didn't want his taint anywhere near him.

Steve stayed with him the entire day and Harry had to force himself to calm down every time Steve told him how much he had missed him. He cringed when Steve kissed him, wondering if he had showered yet to take the stink of that—that murderer from him.

Harry was attentive yet distant as he thought of all the ways he could destroy James Bucky Barnes without even having to touch him. Steve tried in vain to make conversation and interact with Harry but he was somewhere else entirely.

Harry Potter was plotting and he didn't have time for Steve at the moment. No, soon enough he would be the only one who had Steve's time and attention where it mattered.

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The next morning, Harry was up before the sun as usual and set about making breakfast. He set the table for three and made Steve and Bucky's coffee just the way they liked it. He even added extra back to Bucky's plate, knowing how much he loved the greasy meat. Harry could only hope he'd helped Bucky on his way to a heart attack but realized that was a lost cause.

Super soldiers really did ruin everything.

Steve finished earlier than normal and kissed him before he sat on the table, pulling up his mug and the newspaper he would later split with Bucky; sports, Headlines, and Food for Steve and the crossword puzzle, Art, and Tech for Bucky.

Harry poured freshly squeezed orange juice into three cups and was placing his own cup down as the knock sounded on the door.

He hummed cheerfully as he opened the door for Bucky and said his greetings. Bucky smiled easily back at him, "I'm glad you're back. It was lonely around here without you." He said and Harry wanted to curse him until he showed his true colors. The asshole had the nerve.

They all sat at the table and Harry told them all about his time in New York with Tony and Pepper. They told him all about what they did while he was gone until it was time to go. Really, it was positively brilliant.

The entire time, Harry leaned into Steve and perhaps he really had missed him because Steve touched him more than normal. He would run his fingers through Harry's long hair, tugging at it playfully at some point and telling him he liked the length of it as Harry kissed him sweetly and promised to keep it that length. Steve would drop a kiss on his neck every so often as they talked and Bucky's eyes would follow the movement every time. His lips would tighten briefly and his eyes would narrow each and every time.

It was incredibly therapeutic.

Steve and Bucky made a move to get up but Harry stopped them. "Before you two go, there's something I would like to discuss." They both stopped and exchanged looks. Steve looked worried and apprehensive but this I knew because of our proximity and he was projecting his feelings very loudly.

Bucky? There was a glimmer of triumph in his eyes and it made my blood boil. Oh, no sweetheart. Not in this lifetime.

I was going to enjoy this.

Harry feigned hesitance and squeezed Steve's hand as he looked at Steve pleadingly before he continued and faced Bucky. He projected uncertainty and a bit of sadness and almost smiled smugly as Steve wrapped his free arm around him and cuddled close.

He looked at Bucky and was pleased by what he found. "Bucky, you're a good friend," as if you would know the meaning of the word, "and I know we started out these breakfasts as a way to help you integrate back into a normal life but—I, I don't know if you knew this but Steve and I, this had, was," Harry said as he looked at Steve, "our time together. I mean obviously we did other things together but we always reserved breakfast for each other. We never had anyone over at this time, or if we did it was rarely." Harry bit his lip as he looked at his lap uncertainly.

"What I'm trying to say is that I would like that time back with Steve. You can come over sometime but every morning? I just, I want to have this time for ourselves since it really is the only time we can spend together. Alone." You conniving little shit, probably wanted our only time alone and together to be filled with you to make it easier to take him away. "Between S.H.I.E.L.D. missions and Avengers work, I hardly see you as it is, love and you see Bucky all the time. I just want you to myself for a bit." Harry finally said as he look away from Bucky and at Steve.

He must have made a pretty picture because Steve doesn't even seem appalled at his suggestion. The guilt is easy enough to read but Steve smiled gently and carded his hands through Harry's hair and kissed him softly. Steve pulled away slightly and doesn't even look at the intruder in their home, his forehead touching Harry's. "Whatever you want love."

Yes, whatever I want bitch, Harry thought as he threw his arms around Steve's neck and held him tightly, "Thank you love. This means so much to me." he whispered as he pulled away and looked at Bucky.

The expression on his face was one of anger but it faded into devastation as Steve looked at him, who I could feel waver slightly. "Bucky, you spend so much time with Steve, it's almost like you want to keep him to yourself." Harry say teasingly and they both turned to look at me.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm being selfish but I just, I miss him," he whisper with a sad look his my eyes and looked down at his lap. His shoulders shook a bit as Harry tried to hold in laughter and Steve mistook it as crying. He wrapped his arms around Harry and he buried his face into Steve's chest.

"Sorry Buck, breakfast time is for Harry." He says, voice firm and that is the end of discussion. He had heard Steve use this voice before, mostly when donning his Captain America suit but some times when he was sick and too stubborn to stay home or when Harry had been injured while doing research out on the field for a story.

Hey, Pulitzer's weren't going to win themselves.

Buck had no choice now really but to agree. He laughed and it sound entirely fake to him, "Hey, now don't worry about it Harry. I just got into the habit I suppose but it's no big deal." He said it like he has absolutely no problem, sounding abashed at the thought of intruding for so long into our home.

If Harry didn't know any better, he'd believe him. Asshole.

Three days later he gives Steve a key and as he looks back at it in confusion, Harry beamed up at him. "I bought us a house! You've always said you wanted to live in a house someday and have a dog with a yard—a home, so I thought I would do this for you." Harry said shyly and peeking up at him from behind his lashes.

Steve looked almost devastated as he hugged him tight until he couldn't breathe.

Hook. Like. Sinker.

Even if Harry did have an ulterior motive now, he didn't when he had purchased the house back before he had known about them. Now, it served the dual purpose of fulfilling one of the childhood dreams Steve had left behind and to get him further away from Bucky.

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The phone rings hours later but Steve is too busy making love to Harry to notice and when he does, Harry is pleased to note he only puts it back down and heads back to bed with the popcorn in hand as he presses play and they watch movies until they fall asleep just like that.

A week later they move in and Harry makes sure to order a new bed with the excuse that they have to christen a new bed since it is a new home. It's only proper. It arrives and once they assemble it, they try it out.

It's not perfect, not by a long run but he has Steve now and he's made it harder for Bucky to reach him. Bucky may have remembered and 'repented' but S.H.I.E.L.D. is still keeping him on a tight leash. And if Bucky wanted to be with Steve he had to take it. The area they live in isn't available to Bucky during off work hours.

He'd be lying if he said he was sorry about the fact.

He takes every opportunity to rub their relationship in his face and every single time Bucky's reactions gets a little bit more noticeable until Steve is glancing at Harry in concern and pulling Bucky away. Harry pretends not to notice and smiles, truly smiles, knowing its working.

Harry had never been overtly fond of PDA but he finds this new aspect of their relationship refreshing and most definitely amusing.

It's three months later when Harry plans the perfect proposal and Steve, of course, says yes because he might have loved Bucky but Harry knows he came to love him, and only him, once they had met. Steve had pursued him relentlessly until Harry had given in and said yes. That part of Steve is still very much present but at war with the man Steve used to be, the man who loved Bucky Barnes.

What Steve needed to realize, what he was slowly coming to realize, was that Bucky was his first love but Harry was his one true love. Harry had some doubts about this considering all that had happened but something was telling him he was right. He might be lying to himself but he refused to let go of Steve.

So he went with his gut and proposed.

Now, four months later, he was walking hand in hand with the love of his life, the cheating love of his live, and towards the front of a lovely gazebo. It was an outdoors wedding, beautifully decorated and planned to perfection as only Pepper could. All their friends and makeshift family surrounded them for the occasion and it couldn't have been more perfect. Well, that was debatable.

Of course Bucky was there and he had a front row seat as Steve's best man.

Harry didn't look at him, not yet. Bucky wouldn't taint this moment, it would be his and entirely perfect. The ceremony was beautiful and finally, finally Steve was his—his to hold, to love, to cherish and he knew that Steve would keep his vows. No matter how much he had loved Bucky and may still love him, Steve held certain things above all else. Steve held certain things like marriage in the highest regards and marriage was a sacred pact, a vow that could and should never be broken.

Anything that had happened before, anything Steve had with Bucky was now over and done with. Steve may have been willing to cheat on his lover but never on his husband and only the three of them—Steve, Bucky, and Harry would be the only ones who ever knew why.

He pulled away from Steve and finally looked over at Bucky. Harry's green eyes met devastated brown eyes and he smiled.

He looked right into the bastard's eyes and for a single moment allowed all the hate, disgust, and the rage he felt for him, towards Bucky, to reflect in his eyes. Glee filled his eyes as Steve held him tightly, securely in his arms and mouthed, 'He's mine.'

Bucky's eyes widened and whatever emotion may have flickered in those eyes was lost to him as Harry and Steve pulled away and raised their joined arms into the sky as they turned to their guests.

Tomorrow he would continue to loathe and despise Bucky Barnes and never cease to remind him that Steve was and would always be his but today he would revel in his final victory over the conniving bastard that thought he could steal his husband away. Husband, that was such a lovely word. Hmmm.

All throughout the night Harry let go of the anger and the hate and truly enjoyed his wedding reception. The happiness and enjoyment was only made greater by the pain in the brown eyes that tracked the newly wed couple throughout the night.

And when it was all over and Steve pulled Harry onto the bed with him on the first night of their honeymoon, Harry was safe in the knowledge that Steve only saw him. There were no lingering thoughts of Bucky or anyone else, just Harry. Only Harry would ever matter to Steve; there would never be any other but him.

After all, Harry was the Master of Death and no matter how many more times Bucky tried to kill him, he would always fail. Death would only take Harry if he wished it so and Harry would take great pleasure in foiling each and every attempt.

Harry could have done many things to the shell of a man who had tried to take his everything from him and almost succeeded. With magic and the Hallows, there is no end to the torture he could have put Bucky through but that would have cost him Steve and Harry really was a Slytherin at heart.

Besides, the sweetest torture was having what Bucky wanted and could never ever have.

And watching his misery would forever be Harry's revenge.

Revenge really was a dish best served cold.

.

.

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.The End.

So, that was this. I totally did not mean for it to go in the direction it did but there you have it. This was edited myself as you might be able to tell by a few spelling mistakes. Feel free to point those out and I'll correct them. Not my usual kind of fic but ehhh, it happens. I hope you enjoyed this and let me know how you liked it. If you want to see snippets from this universe let me know and I'll see what I can dish up. Reviews are love and much appreciated!

Best,

CotF