A/N: This is the fic I wrote for the Hermione Smut Fest. If you need a warning for what might be contained in this story, I suggest you read the title of the fest again.

I do not own HP or Marvel in any way. I'm just messing with their characters.

Enjoy!

Her laughter filled the room for the fifth time that afternoon.

He knew it was the fifth, though he wasn't sure why he was counting.

Other than he lived for those moments. The ones where she let go, broke the lets-get-down-to-business facade and let him see who she was. Her laugh was genuine and infectious, even if she tended to lean forward and put her head down while she laughed, as if it were something to be ashamed of. He couldn't help but smile each time he heard it, and he would find himself attempting to provoke it, even though the opportunities were few and far between.

He vaguely wondered if she laughed like this for Tony.

For some reason he hoped she didn't, even though he knew of the two of them Tony was the one more people tended to laugh around. He hoped she gave Tony's jokes the appropriate chuckles, maybe even an eye roll or a head shake, but that she saved the laughs for him. There was something special in that laughter, an ease he hadn't felt in a long time.

What was getting her to laugh was his old file, which he had dug up for informational purposes even though he still wasn't quite sure why she needed to see it. She was always digging, always asking questions, always asking him to show her things, and he would agree even if the little voice in the back of his head questioned it. Surely she couldn't be anything but what she said she was, she was too nice, too friendly, too helpful to be anything else, and Nick Fury had holed himself up in a room with Romanoff for two days checking her out before hiring her. Hermione Granger had been brought on as a consultant of sorts, an expert when it came to fighting both with weapons and without. She could analyze their strengths, determine their weaknesses, give them the advantage that might be the difference the next time someone was plotting something horrific, or someone bent on destruction was on the loose, or an army of aliens invaded (the event which brought her to them).

It's not as though she paid any more or less attention to him than Tony, or Natasha, or Clint (though she still hadn't determined how to safely study the Hulk's abilities and Thor was nowhere to be found), but that didn't mean Steve didn't notice her glances, the way her cheeks got a bit of color when he complimented her, or the way she bit her lip when he caught her studying him with a bit more intensity than purely necessary.

And he certainly noticed her laugh.

"I'm surprised how little your face changed," she was saying through her laughter. "It almost doesn't look like you, it looks like someone photoshopped your head on some scrawny git's body and is trying to pass it off as you."

"Why would my face change?" he chuckled, shooting her a look.

"I don't imagine it would, to be honest, but it looks so different, and these photos were taken minutes apart. I'm just trying to process the difference. It's like you had a second round of puberty hit you like a bloody meteor, and when you stood up you've gained twice your weight in muscle and height."

"It was not that dramatic," he insisted, making a swipe for the papers, but she pulled them out of his reach and placed a hand on his chest as though she could stop him from by force.

"Ninety five pounds before serum, two hundred and forty after. Five foot four before, six foot two after. Not only was it 'that dramatic', I was actually quite under in my estimations," she smiled.

"Okay, so maybe it was," he chuckled.

"I imagine that can't have been comfortable, gaining a person and a half in just a few minutes time," she said, putting the file down.

"No, it isn't exactly pleasant to change into, essentially, a new person that quickly," he replied.

"I know," she nodded, and for a moment he actually thought he saw experience written across her face. But how could she? She was a normal woman, hadn't taken any serum, didn't turn into a giant green rage monster... how could she possibly know what it was like to have such a dramatic transformation?

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked, face falling as he studied her.

Her eyes went wide, just for a moment, as if she realized she had said something she hadn't meant, but when she spoke it was smooth and confident. "A girl has to have some secrets, Captain Rogers," she said in a low voice. After a moment she bit her lip, and looked up at him, eyes glinting mischievously. Her voice went even lower, coming out almost as a purr, when she said, "Though there are other secrets I wouldn't mind sharing with you, Steve."

Her directness sent a jolt of excitement through his body that settled south of his belt. It was now his turn to feel color creep onto his cheeks, and his mouth opened as his brain tried to settle on something to say.

"Captain Rogers?" JARVIS' disembodied voice sounded from out of nowhere.

"Um.. yeah? Yes?" he stammered before clearing his throat. In front of him embarrassment rushed over Hermione's face and she turned away, starting out of the gym they were in without a word and without waiting to see what the computerized voice wanted.

"Mr. Stark would like to see you upstairs as soon as possible," JARVIS replied.

"I'll, um, I'll be right up," he replied, starting to walk backwards, not wanting to take his eyes off Hermione as she walked stiffly towards the door on the opposite side of the room. He paid for his inattention a moment later as his foot caught some weights that had been left on the floor. He let off a startled noise as he fell backwards, hands instinctively reaching behind him to slow what promised to be a hard and painful landing.

But the impact never occurred. Suddenly it felt as though he had landed on a blanket and was thrown back upwards, landing on his feet. A quick glance downward showed there was no blanket or anything soft to cause such a landing, in fact it was a miracle his head hadn't hit the jagged edge of one of the weight machines. He looked over at Hermione and saw her hastily stuffing what looked like a stick into one of her pockets as she, face as hidden as possible, turned and scurried from the room, not even bothering to try to hide her haste any longer. Steve watched as the door shut behind her, trying to make sense of what had just happened. A thousand possibilities crossed his mind, and most were dismissed just as quickly. His thoughts remained on her and what had just happened as he made his way upstairs, and his mind continued to replay the incident as Tony was talking to him.

"CAP!" Tony's snapping voice drew him out of his thoughts, and he looked around, trying to orient himself. "What has gotten into you?" he asked.

"Are there other people who were enhanced?" Steve replied with a question of his own.

"What?" Tony looked at him, confused.

"Other people who have super-human abilities," he clarified.

"People like you?"

"Yes, but no. Someone who might be able to do something from across the room."

"Like telekinesis?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes!" he nodded.

"There's a group who are very underground, like the kind of underground that I'm not even sure if they're a real group underground, so I have no idea if it's true or some rumor Fury thought up..."

"Any connection to Hermione?"

"Wait, what? When did we start talking about Hermione?"

Steve looked around the room to make sure no one was around to overhear them. "I was falling..." he started.

"A rare show of clumsiness?" Tony interrupted.

"I was walking backwards and tripped," he replied, irritation starting to show in his voice. "I was going down, in such a way I probably would have hit my head. And then something caught me and stood me back up. And I saw Hermione..." his eyes went wide as he put some pieces together. His voice dropped and he looked around one more time before saying, "I think Hermione is a witch."

"A what?" Tony looked halfway between bewildered and amused at the sudden turn in the conversation.

"A witch. She had a stick, or at least, I thought it was a stick at the time. But it was a wand. Hermione used a wand to stop me from falling, and witches use wands."

"Hold up there, Cap," Tony said slowly, a curve to the edge of his lips betraying the laughter he was working so hard at suppressing. "Witches are fairy tales. You were falling, somehow you righted yourself, and in the midst of it you saw Hermione and thought you saw a wand or a stick or whatever in her hand. That seems awful flimsy in terms of evidence."

Steve sighed. "So you've never felt there's anything... off when you're talking to her? Like she's hiding something from you? Or that she's digging a little too deep?"

"The only thing that feels off about Hermione is how she doesn't have six boyfriends waiting in the wings. She's smart, and pretty, and I know what I'm paying her..."

"Tony..." he sighed.

"Steve," he shot back. "I thought you had a little thing for her, now suddenly you're up here spouting conspiracy theories that make me think you need less of a big metal shield and more of a tin foil hat. Seriously, Cap, take a nap or something. I'll talk to you tomorrow," he said before striding out of the room.

Steve watched him go, then turned and retreated towards his own quarters. His gut instinct told him he was right about Hermione, and he was going to prove it.

XXXXXXX

Steve strode onto Hermione's floor as if he were invited, because, really, he was. Yes, it was for an hour later, but he figured if she caught it it was a plausible enough excuse. But luck was on his side, the floor was deserted, and it looked like she hadn't come in yet. After looking around to make sure Hermione had not set up surveillance equipment of her own he crossed to her desk. It was neat, almost uncannily so, with everything in its place, but he noticed quickly that something was amiss. He carefully rifled through the files on her desk, and noticed there were some of them that didn't have any identifying seals or writing on the front of them. Opening them they were copies of some of the other files, but she had written some things in the margins, things that didn't make sense like "All Muggle lineage" next to his information, or "tech disabled by Immobulus" next to an image of Tony's arc reactor. He narrowed his eyes, but moved the things aside in favor of scanning the rest of the area. Something else was off, all her technology was sequestered in a small, cramped workstation in the corner, well away from her desk, files, and where he usually stood as she examined him.

As he was pondering this he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned all he saw was the small board where Hermione kept her personal mementos, photos, a calendar, and personal notes to herself. What he thought had moved was a picture of Hermione from what looked to be when she was about ten years younger. She stood in front of a large castle, wearing a school uniform bearing a crest he couldn't quite make out, arm in arm with two boys, a taller one with vibrant red hair, and a shorter one with a crop of messy black hair. They looked as though they had just gotten through messing with each other, Hermione's shirt was pulled out on one side, the black haired boy's glasses were askew at the end of his nose, and they wore identical wide smiles. He stared at the picture for longer than he should have, trying to figure out why he felt it was so off.

"Steve?" Hermione's voice caused him to jump. He turned to see her coming into the room, pulling off the rain jacket that covered the blouse-and-skirt combo she seemed to favor at work. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm just here for my appointment," he replied.

"Oh!" she said in surprise. "I could have sworn that was for nine... I'm so sorry! I hope you haven't been waiting too long. Just give me a moment to put a few things down and I'll be right with you."

"Take your time," he smiled. "Maybe it was nine, it wouldn't be the first time I wrote down the wrong time for something."

"I guess I should have confirmed yesterday," she returned his smile with one of her own. "You just have me in a false sense of security, Captain Rogers, because you are always so reliable."

"I try hard, ma'am," he nodded. She hurried to a small closet to put her jacket and umbrella away, and he glanced back at the picture, freezing in surprise and looking at it again. Hermione's shirt was righted, and the boy's glasses were back on their proper place. But how could they be? No, he must have been seeing things earlier, pictures don't move. But as he looked he realized what was off about the picture, despite the student's smiles there was a haunted look to their eyes.

"My school," she said as she came to stand next to him. "Those are my two best mates, still are today, Harry and Ron."

"That is a big castle," he said, trying not to bring attention to his confusion.

"It was a boarding school."

"You went to boarding school in a castle?" he smirked. "How very British of you. Did they serve afternoon tea there and everything?"

She laughed (first time today, he thought), and his insides lightened as some of his concerns went away.

"How old were you in this?" he asked.

"I just turned seventeen," she said. "Harry and Ron were sixteen. We were starting our sixth year."

He took a deep breath and cautiously asked, "Did you like school?"

She hesitated, her face falling, and she bit her bottom lip.

"You are smiling here, but your eyes look like the eyes I saw on some of my men after they had been through a tough fight," he said softly.

"There were some things going on," she admitted in a voice barely above a whisper. "Some bad things. A student had died during our fourth year, and Harry's godfather our fifth. Neither of them were... expected deaths, nor easy ones. On top of that I had been very badly injured a few months prior, and it was somewhat touch-and-go for a while, and I know Harry blamed himself for it. Not to mention we had this awful hag running the school the year before and that really put a damper on our learning. All of that was hard to deal with, but we went on as best we could."

He studied her, waiting for more, knowing there was more to the story, but realizing quickly she wasn't going to tell him anything else.

"Sorry," she muttered, setting a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was going to test your reflex time today?"

"Yes, ma'am," he smiled, vowing in the back of his mind to ask her once he had gotten a little closer to her.

XXXXXXX

"Come on Granger," Tony pleaded. "We're all going out to celebrate!"

"Celebrate what, exactly?" she asked with a smirk.

"Life, of course!" he replied without missing a beat. "It's Friday, it's been a hard week, let's go out and get blitzed, my treat, of course."

"I'm sorry, I still have to decline," she replied. "I have friends visiting the area, and I promised I would meet them."

"Bring them along!"

"Next time, I promise," she said, sliding off the arm of the couch where she was perched next to Steve. "I'll see you Monday," she said softly, smiling at Steve and touching his shoulder before heading towards the elevator.

"Okay, Rogers, Romanoff, where do you want to go?" Tony asked.

"I'm out, too," Steve said, standing up.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Am I missing something? Did something start up with you and Granger? If so, you need to work on subtlety, Cap. You're supposed to give it a few minutes so it's not so obvious you're meeting her in the lobby."

"It's not that," he shook his head. "I'm feeling a bit pent up. I'm going to go for a run, then cross something else off the list," he said, turning to leave.

"Before you go, I ran that word through everything I could think of and past a half a dozen contacts," Natasha called after him.

"And?" he asked, turning around.

"Nothing. It means nothing. No one has heard of it, even those who are experts in slang. Sorry, Steve, but 'Muggle' doesn't seem to mean anything to anyone but Hermione."

"I'm missing something," Tony said, looking between them.

"Steve found a word in Hermione's lab and asked if I could help him find out what it means."

"Oh, is this the thing?" Tony looked at Steve, looking bemused.

"What thing?" she asked.

"Steve here seems to think Hermione isn't what she seems," he smirked, as if he found it funny. "He seems to think that she is a witch or something like that."

"Really?" Natasha arched an eyebrow.

"There's more to it than that," Steve told her.

"Did you find anything?" Tony asked. "Other than a strange word. Because, you know, she is British, and they do use strange words on occasion..."

"Have a good night, Tony," he muttered, turning and leaving. He took the elevator down to the ground floor, exited the building, and walked across the street. A couple minutes later Hermione emerged, after having changed into jeans and a t-shirt. She paused long enough to put on sunglasses, then took off down the street at a quick clip. He put on a baseball cap and started to follow her, staying to the other side of the street. Hermione didn't seem to have any fear of being followed, not looking around, and occasionally pausing to look into a shop window. He followed her for several blocks without her looking back towards him once, and he sped up when she turned down a smaller street. He was only a few yards behind her, walking behind a group of college age boys heading towards a pizzaria, when Hermione crossed the road and ducked into what looked like a closed bar. He looked both ways, crossed the street, and went to follow her inside, but the door was locked. Glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention he rattled the handle and, finding it flimsy, turned it hard enough to break the fragile lock. After one more glance around he slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

He looked around the building in surprise. There was no one there, and no sign of anyone having been there in a long time. Dust settled thick on the floor and appeared to be undisturbed. He took several steps in, looking around, even looking up at the rafters, looking for any sign of Hermione, but there was none to be found. He retreated back onto the street and looked both ways, but the doors to the shops on either side were too far away for him to have made a mistake, and there was no alley to be seen. Frustrated he looked around one more time and noticed something strange. The bar had a chipped and faded 73 above the door. The hardware store on one side had a 71, and on the other a nail salon had an 77. But there was no 75, nor a hint of an 75. Across the street the buildings were numbered correctly. He stared at the number for a full minute before sighing and walking back the way he came. The mystery of Hermione just deepened, but he knew there would be no answers that night.

XXXXXXXX

Weeks came and went, and Hermione did nothing to further raise his suspicions, which, to be honest, frustrated Steve. With no new evidence there was no chance of him doing any further research, and even Tony had gotten bored of ribbing him over his "witch-hunt". Days passed as they had before he had his suspicions, with Hermione working on things in her lab, and him visiting as often as possible without making it too obvious how much he craved her company. But, unfortunately, there had been somewhat of a shift in their relationship as of late, things becoming more business like, as if Hermione was purposefully trying to keep him at arms length.

After a morning work-out he was walking down a hall past a small cafeteria towards the locker room when he heard voices, and despite knowing that the conversation wasn't for him something compelled him to stop and listen, and he stood just out of view outside an open door.

"How did it go last night?" Natasha was asking.

"It went, thank God," Hermione replied in an irritated voice.

"That bad?"

"I don't understand the modern obsession people have with their bloody mobiles. It's like they have them glued to their hand or are going to die if they don't check the damn thing every ten seconds."

"I take it he wasn't very attentive, then," Natasha's voice sounded amused.

"I probably could have stripped naked in front of him and it would have taken him five minutes to notice."

The visual hit Steve hard, the image of her sitting naked, draped casually on a chair in a fancy restaurant, though in his mind it was his eyes and his eyes only she was attempting to entice. In his vision her eyes flashed mischievously as her breasts rose and fell with a deep breath, and her mouth opened so she could let off one of those laughs he loved so much. There were others in the restaurant in his mind, he felt their eyes upon him they stared jealously at him as she beckoned for him, wanting only him in a room full of hungry eyes...

Without thinking of anything other than getting an immediate cold shower he moved towards the locker room, promptly bashing his arm painfully and loudly on the doorknob, drawing both women's attention.

"Steve?" Hermione asked. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he nodded, trying not to let his pain show in his voice. "Yeah, just wasn't paying attention to where I'm going."

Hermione let off a chuckle. "You know, super reflexes mean nothing if you aren't willing to pay attention to your surroundings."

"Yeah, I know," he smiled.

"Are we still on for this afternoon?"

"Of course. One, was it?"

"Two," she corrected. "I have some shopping to do."

"I'm looking forward to it," he nodded with a smile before hastily walking down the hallway to the showers.

"On for what?" Natasha asked, an mischievous edge to her voice.

"Just a few tests," she shrugged.

"That's it?"

"Did you expect something different?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you and Steve seem to be getting along rather well..."

"And that means what?"

"Just thought there might be a little more there than the two of you are letting on," she replied casually, stirring her tea.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't we just talking about a date I was on?" she pointed out. "You're a modern woman."

"He's not a modern man."

"True," she acquiesced. "Though I think he's getting better. And don't think for a second that I don't know the two of you want to be a bit modern with each other."

"Nice euphemism," she rolled her eyes.

"But no denial."

"Like I could deny it to you."

"Are you going to do anything about it?"

"It's probably better if I don't," she replied cryptically, standing up.

"Why?"

Hermione looked back at her, biting her lip as Natasha could see her trying to think up a good reason. "It's complicated," Hermione said with finality, and walked out.

XXXXXXX

Steve looked down at the last of his lunch, hoping that his hat obscured the view of his face enough that the woman two tables over would stop looking at him. He had to leave in a few minutes to make sure he wouldn't be late for Hermione, and he didn't need someone approaching him to ask for an autograph or, more awkward, a date. There was only woman who might get him to agree, and she was currently off shopping. He wondered if he walked out of the cafe now if he'd catch a glimpse of her bushy brown hair heading back to Avengers Tower, but immediately dismissed the thought. Hermione probably wouldn't appreciate a man who acted like a stalker.

The woman started to rise, so he shot up as well, crossing quickly between tables to bus his tray and leave. He scanned the crowd outside before falling in line behind a group of businessmen who, by the sound of it, had just finished drinking their lunch. He paused with them at an intersection, waiting for traffic to cross, and he found himself in the middle of a throng of people, including a group of tourists on a walking tour and a group of moms pushing strollers. The light turned, and the group moved forward with the 'walk' sign, and were about halfway through the intersection when it happened. A honking drew their attention, followed by a loud crash. A dump truck had failed to stop, crashing into the side of an bus, sending the vehicle skidding sideways towards the group. Steve acted instinctively, pushing through the crowd to place himself between the bus and the group, which was a mix of panicked people trying to move and those frozen in fear, knowing that the bus was probably too much, that he'd never be able to stop the whole thing, that people were about to get hurt, but he still had to try, to do something...

There was a loud crack followed by a flash of light. The bus stopped mere inches from him, teetering precociously on two wheels over him. As everyone behind him moved he looked around for what had stopped the bus, and saw Hermione clutching a stick, which she had pointed at the bus. As the bus slammed back down onto all four wheels she looked over at him, wide-eyed.

"Hermione..." he whispered, stepping towards her, but she turned on the spot and disappeared with a 'pop' that was barely audible over the screams and chaos surrounding him. He looked around, but couldn't see her, and reluctantly turned his attention back to the situation. He pried open the door to the bus and several people stumbled off.

"I'm a doctor!" someone in the crowd called, pushing his way onto the bus to tend to those who had been hurt in the crash. Seconds later two cops came running up, with sirens flaring in the distance. Steve looked around, but knew this wasn't the part he was good at, the immediate danger was gone, now people needed medical attention and help. With one last look around he started moving, then running through the crowd, desperate to get back to Avengers Tower, hoping he wasn't too late.

The elevator seemed to take too long, each second taking an eternity, making it less and less likely that she would be there...

But he found her, frantically packing her things in a box. For some reason she was doing this by hand, and it was confusing enough to him that he just stared for a moment, but the sound of the elevator had drawn her attention.

"Is it too much to ask that you just let me leave?" she asked.

"You're a witch," he finally found his voice.

She seemed to deflate slightly as she studied his face. "Yes," she confessed in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" he asked, moving towards her, feeling a pang in his gut as he realized she backed up against one of her work stations as he did so.

"There are rules against it," she replied. "I could go to prison..."

"For what you just did?"

"No," she shook her head. "I did that to save people. That's allowed. But telling people isn't."

"Why?"

She looked at him, confused. "I couldn't let you... those people..."

"Not the bus," he interrupted, surprised she thought he would question her heroics. "Why are you here?"

She was quiet for a very long time, conflict written across her face as she was torn between telling him the truth and knowing how much trouble she would be in if caught doing so. "After the invasion, after the Avengers became public knowledge, there were people in my world, in the magical world, who got concerned that you lot would be a threat to those like me. They decided that they needed to know everything about the Avengers to determine what kind of threat you would pose to us. And they came to me to study you, because they thought I would be able to assimilate enough into your world that no one would suspect the real reason why I am here."

"So you came here to spy on us?" he asked, voice somewhere between disbelief and incredulity.

"Yes. The magical community doesn't want a conflict with you, the concern is that if it happens the public nature of it would expose our world, something we've kept hidden since witch burnings were commonplace. We saw extraordinary people take down an invading army headed by someone whose magical power drew our immediate attention and concern. We were afraid those six people, having seen that kind of magic, might notice we're around and react rashly and cause an incident."

He studied her, wanting to see something different, something darker about her, but unable to see anything but the same woman he had been working with for months.

"What have you found?" he demanded softly.

"I found rather quickly that as long as no one from our community seeks out a confrontation with one of you that you are no threat to us."

"What if you had deemed us to be a threat?"

She looked nervous for a moment. "I was to eliminate the threat by any means necessary. Part of the reason that I was selected for the job is because everyone knows I would never act rashly with a decision like that, but if my actions could save the many..." she trailed off.

He wanted to feel anger, but in the back of his mind he knew that her orders were the same as so many before her, the same as his own had been. Determine the threat to your side and eliminate it, even if that meant extreme measures. He tried to picture Hermione killing those she seemed to be so friendly with, and knew that there was no chance she would do that unless it was absolutely necessary. If he had to pick someone for a similar job, hers were the exact qualities he would look for.

"If you figured out we're not a threat so quickly why stay?" he asked.

"Officially? Because I won't say that the Avengers are not a threat until I get a chance to study Bruce Banner and Thor."

"And unofficially?"

"Because I want to help," she said firmly. "If something like the invasion happens again I figure you'll be among the first to know so you can go help. Like I told you before, I can help if lives are in danger. But we don't interfere for fear of exposure. If I go back to my world and another invasion happened there's a chance I wouldn't even hear about it until after the fact, and if I did hear in time to go help I would be pressured not to go. But here I would hear about it, and no one would be there to stop me from responding with you."

"But you weren't going to tell us?"

"I don't like the thought of going to prison. I figured if the team found out I would deal with it then, but I couldn't think of something like that happening again and not being on the front lines to try to stop it."

He studied her for a moment, and she studied her hands for a moment before picking up the box.

"Please, don't tell anyone," she muttered. "I'm sorry, I really valued our time together and even..." she stopped, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "But that's neither here nor there now. I wish things could end differently between us."

She started walking towards the door, carefully maneuvering around him as to not make contact, but he reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her. She looked up at him, fear in her eyes, causing the pit to sink lower in his stomach. He hated the look on her, and was genuinely upset that the woman whose laugh he so coveted might think he was a threat.

"In the future, if you are going to be on my team, I need to know what you can do," he said.

Confusion took over her features.

"I need to know if someone on my team can stop a bus from flattening a bunch of people," he continued. "You saved a lot of people today, Hermione. That's not something I'm willing to give up. I want you to stay, but if you do I need to know as much about you as you know about me. I need to know everything my team members can do."

Relief flooded her face and she let off a nervous chuckle, which caused him to smile. She put the box down and relaxed against the workstation behind her. "I apologize again. How about I take you out to dinner to make it up to you? I promise I'll tell you what you need to know."

"You don't need to make it up to me," he shook his head.

"Well... maybe I would like to take you to dinner either way," she said softly.

His eyes locked onto hers, exchanging all the words that they both had been to afraid to say aloud. He knew in that moment that Hermione was asking for something much more than being mere teammates. The emotions Hermione had put him through in the last hour was enough to make anyone's head spin, but he knew deep in his heart he wasn't willing to let the chance slip through his fingers.

"I look forward to it," he smiled.

Her body visibly relaxed and a wide smile broke across her face. "Brilliant!" she beamed.

"So... now that the cat is out of the bag, can I see it?" he asked.

"Magic?" she asked softly, scanning around as if she expected them to be overheard.

"I don't want you to get in trouble..."

"No, it's okay," she said, pulling out her wand. Without a word she flicked it at the door, locking it, then waved it in the air, but nothing appeared to have happened.

"Wand not working?" he asked, looking around.

A mischievous smile crossed her face, and she tapped the work station next to her, which widened. She hopped onto it and slid across, patting the spot next to her. He crossed the room and sat down, but instead of the hard stone surface he was expecting he found the work top soft and inviting. Hermione had laid down, looking up at the ceiling, and he followed suit. She pointed her wand at the light and whispered, "Nox."

As the light faded from the room he realized what she had done earlier. Rather than the room going completely dark thousands of tiny spheres of light, like minuscule stars, hung in the air, moving lazily on whatever currents of air moved throughout the room. Their twinkling light illuminated the room with the same pale light one might find with moonlight.

"Wow," he breathed, eyes darting around, not wanting to miss even the smallest speck.

Hermione smiled, and lifted her wand into the air, twirling it slowly. Above her some of the lights started following the movements of her wand, changing colors as they danced through the air.

"You don't get to see the stars in the city," she said, sending one of the balls of light streaking across the room like a meteor. "I do this sometimes in my flat to just get away from things for a while."

"It's beautiful," he murmured.

"Try this," she said, taking his hand and lifting it up. She coaxed his index finger up, and used it to tap one of the lights, which shattered into a thousand shimmering pieces and fell, coming to a rest on her face and shoulder before dimming and disappearing. He stared at her for a long moment, than moved his hand so he was holding hers in his, her hand feeling so tiny and dainty in his. He ran his thumb over hers, and she looked over at him, biting her lip as she studied his face. Deciding to take a chance he turned onto his side, reaching over with his other hand so he could pull her to him and press his lips to hers.

Warmth and a surge of energy rushed through him as she responded enthusiastically, pushing herself into him, clutching tightly onto his shoulder, mouth opening to deepen the kiss. His hand wound into her unruly head of hair, holding her fast to him, and her leg hooked over his, entwining them together, and it was then he knew he was lost. The girl he was kissing might be dangerous, might be considered his enemy if the truth got out, but he couldn't care about all that. All he could focus on was the taste of her mouth against his, the feel of breasts pressing against his chest, the sound of her soft moans of desire as his tongue danced with hers. She pushed his shoulder, rolling him onto his back without breaking their embrace so she could sit astride him. He felt her struggle a moment as she took off her jacket, then felt her hands running along his t-shirt, hungrily feeling the muscles underneath. He rested his hands on her waist, feeling her hips bucking occasionally against his as she grew more excited. Wanting, no, needing more he slid his hands upwards, over the sliver of skin that had been exposed when her shirt had ridden up, and under the fabric, lifting it just a little. He felt her tremble in excitement, felt her nails dig into his shoulders just a little, felt the press of her against his growing erection, and he knew she had no hesitations. So he lifted even more, and she broke free and moved her body in a fluid motion, down and then back up, to help him lift her shirt over her head and down her arms. He dropped it off to the side, relishing in the sight of her above him: Bra-clad breasts rising and falling as she took the moment to catch her breath, an old scar crossing her chest from her collarbone to the ribs on the opposite side, and a flush over her skin as her excitement grew. She bit her lip as she tugged at his shirt, and he sat up, allowing her to pull it from him before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her once more. He started to trail kisses lower, lingering on her neck, her shoulders, her chest, before reaching behind her to unclasp her bra and pull it from her. After taking a moment to drink in the sight of her he grabbed her rear with one hand, pulling her up to better give him access to her chest, and lowered his head to one breast.

He took his time at first, gently kissing all around the orb before flicking his tongue across the peak. She moaned her approval, one hand clutching his bicep tightly while the other held his head to her. As he took the peak into his mouth her hips bucked, and even though they were rubbing against his abs he felt his cock strain painfully against his pants. When she started to squirm as if the attention might be too much he switched sides, practically feeling her melt against him as he did so. Suddenly his erection sprang free as his pants disappeared, and he felt her jeans disappear under the hand supporting her.

"Aren't you a little impatient?" he asked with a chuckle, looking up at her.

"Very," she replied, bending to kiss him. "Please," she added in a breathy whisper against his lips.

"Anything you want," he promised.

She pounced, crashing her lips to his as her hand slipped between them. She took hold of his erection and guided it to her entrance, then lowered herself onto him. He sucked in a sharp breath as her warmth and wetness surrounded him as she simultaneously let off a moan of satisfaction. When he was fully inside her she paused, savoring the feel of him before she started to move atop him. She moved slowly at first, nearly lifting off him before lowering herself again. When he thought he might be driven mad by her languid pace he grabbed her rear and started guiding her, careful to control himself so he didn't hurt her, relishing in the noises she made against his mouth as she started to lose control.

When it finally seemed like fatigue was starting to get to her he lifted her up and gently laid her in front of him, kissing up her body from her knee to her lips before guiding himself into her again. Her legs wrapped tightly around him and her hands slid across his back looking for purchase on his skin. He held himself to a steady pace, one hand roaming her body in an attempt to memorize as much of it as possible, needing to be with her as long as possible. Slowly her breath became ragged as she tightened around him, and it was all he could do to hold out until he felt her release underneath him with a strangled cry before climaxing himself.

He kissed her deeply, a long, slow kiss that neither was quick to end, before sliding from her and lying next to her. She molded herself to the side of his body, resting her head on his shoulder, her bushy hair tickling his arm.

"We waited too long for that," she murmured, drawing absentminded circles on his skin.

"We did," he agreed.

"Let's not make that mistake again," she smiled up at him, and he couldn't help but smile back before kissing her.

"You still owe me dinner," he pointed out.

"I found a lovely dim sum place not too far from here," she replied. "It's only a block or so from my flat."

"I'm starting to like it already," he chuckled, and he kissed her once more before the intercom came to life and a voice startled them.

"Well, um, I have a bit of an announcement," Tony's strained voice sounded. "For those of you who may not have known the upgraded security system went on-line about two hours ago, and all video and audio is available in places like the party deck. So, um, that's new. Rogers, it seems I owe you a bit of an apology. And, uh, Granger? I think we need to have a talk. Not now, no rush. Something just... came up with me, and I'm going to be a little indisposed for a while, but you seem like you might be as well, so find me when you're ready. Again, no rush. Just..." the intercom cut off unceremoniously.

"Hmm," Hermione said, looking up and nodding towards a camera near the door. "I would have thought Tony would have liked being watched more than watching. He always seemed to prefer being the center of attention, but I guess to each their own."

"You don't mind that he all but admitted seeing all that?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I can't do anything about it now, and at least I'm pretty sure the show was superb."

"That it was," he said, kissing her again. "Care to give an encore performance?"

"Yes, Captain Rogers," she replied with a smirk.