Warning: This story will contain Slash (male x male relationship).

Disclaimer: I own neither Avengers nor Harry Potter; for if I did many things would have been different.

A fire red headed female and a male brunette sat together beside a lit fireplace. He had silky stylishly tousled shoulder-length hair, full pouty rosy lips and big almond-shaped emerald eyes. She, on the other hand, had soft straight waist-length blood red hair, glossy ruby red lips and big round caramel eyes. He sat beside her with the side of his head on her shoulder and a hand on his ethereal features.

"What am I going to do now Ginny?" he asked after he had sobered down.

"Now you're going to rise like you always do and be the man whom I know you are" she told him as she smiled and kissed his button nose.

He frowned and sat upright. "You can't just drop a bomb on me and expect me to be okay with it" he growled.

"Sometimes, brother, one has to" she smiled ruefully and he switched the direction of his gaze -he didn't regret telling her the truth for she now had the chance to find someone-. "I would've loved to be your bride, Harry, but I'll be more than happy to be your sister and confidant, whenever you need me" she said with a dreamy smile. "Besides, I think you'll make a wonderful papa" she giggled as she tried to picture the lean male in a frilly pink apron.

He blushed slightly before his smile became hollow. With his long and slender fingers he trailed his most recent scar -which went from just above his left eyebrow and right through his eye until it stopped above his cheekbone-; at least he hadn't lost his eye.

"Will I ever find someone? I mean… when I'm like… this" he asked her and she frowned.

"Harry James Potter, I will not have you speak like that about yourself!" she exclaimed as she grabbed his face with both of her delicate hands. "You are gorgeous 'Ry. Heck, you should be baptized one of the Earth's seven wonders" he cracked a real smile as she caressed his temples.

"That might be a little too much, Gin" he muttered as he closed his eyes and accepted the strokes.

"Nonsense 'Ry, it's your own prejudice that is obscuring your judgment. Am I less because of the scars I carry?" she asked.

"What? No! Never! You're a very beautiful woman, never doubt that!" he screamed outraged.

"Well then, there you go. You're a beautiful man and you should never doubt it" she finished as she giggled.

"You little-"he jumped on her and a tickle war started.

The lean and tall male with long legs and broad shoulders knocked on the blue door. It was time to put an end to his unresolved issues. A tan woman opened the entrance and immediately smiled at the sight of the young man.

"Harry, dear, do come inside" she invited.

The much older woman had bags under her eyes and the wizard immediately felt guilty for waiting so long.

"Andromeda" he acknowledged with a sad smile.

"You're here for him, aren't you?" she asked with a hard glint on her eyes.

"I'll do this right, Andromeda. If you must, we can work on some visitation time and any important dates where you could have him all for yourself" he proposed as he sat on a comfortable loveseat.

She kept her face straight as she took in his new look. He no longer had the awful round glasses -instead he was wearing a pair of smart oval-shaped lenses with almost invisible frames-, his hair was shiny again, his body had muscles and was not only bones any more, his skin looked healthy and his scar was shown proudly; whomever said Harry Potter was an attractive young sorcerer hadn't seen him now, for he was the sole definition for the term enticing. The corner of the woman's lips turned upwards slightly; he would always be her little cute grandchild -in her eyes if nowhere else-.

"He'll wake you up in the middle of the night. He likes to change his eye-color and hair-color at least ten times each through the day. He only drinks Jefferson's Infant Formula and likes to throw up soon after; and I'm not even going to discus dipper changing. He screams midafternoon and cries if he's not the center of your attention. Are you sure you'd like to take him under your wing?" she asked. No matter how much she loved the boy she wouldn't hand over her sole blood grandchild if she didn't consider him ready for the challenge.

The man smiled brightly. "He's my godson and my charge, Andromeda. I couldn't want him any more than I do now" he admitted with a soft fond smile and a warm gaze.

"You'll make a wonderful parent, Harry. I know that" she told him as he walked to the stair case, "You wait right there, it's feeding time anyways so he's bound to wake up shortly".

The first time he held his godson he was blood soaked and in pain. The second time it was like nothing he ever felt before. The frail body was almost weightless; as soon as the golden eyes opened they became a deep rich emerald and his hair became as black as the night. The baby giggled as the young mage caressed his face as softly as he could; a beautiful smile lit his ethereal features. It was like a connection had formed between them; and it would never break.

The man took the child with him to what he hoped would become home.

Harry Potter was a filthy rich man. His parents had had very successful deals and owned very lucrative self-sustaining companies. His godfather had left him with a lordship and a bank account as big as Sweden. So it didn't come as a surprise that -as he could afford anything he wanted- when he had decided that Sirius's old place was not fit to raise a child, he had gone to his friends to discuss where he should move to.

The first time that he gave the idea of moving out of Grimmauld Place a thought he hadn't exactly had in mind the USA; but then again when did anything ever go his way? Hermione dimmed the country good enough to finish high school and start university, Ginny decided that she wanted to accept a job in the Muggle Relations branch of the American Ministry, Luna found her place in the Creature's Embassy placed in Massachusetts and Ron helped Gorge open a branch right in the middle of New York's magical community. All he had to do was contact a few of the establishments placed in the country to let them know he was coming, apply for citizenship to both governments -Muggle and Magical- and find a suitable place to live; Manhattan seemed like a good option at the time.

As time went by in the new country Harry juggled with both, Teddy and his inherited businesses. For months he wrote letters and dealt with the family finances until, in a fit of stress, he dropped everything to take care of his son. He temporarily hired a teller from one of the Gringotts minor branches to deal with everything privately -in exchange of a six percent of his annual earnings-.

After the first year went by and Theodore grew -and most of his friends moved in with him, in the mansion that they made him buy back when he had asked for their opinion- the young wizard had time to settle down and get used to the surroundings -for Vitto and Lummi, two house-elves, had forcefully bound themselves to the house of Potter and the house of Black respectively and took care of everything; on the condition that they had to wear comfortable clothing, wouldn't punish themselves if they made mistakes and would take as much free time as they wanted-.

When Teddy was close to being three years old Harry finally found pleasure in gardening and the study of the language of flowers. It was then that he chose to involve himself bit by bit in the chain of floristries that his mother had opened years back as she had had spear time with her newly discovered pregnancy -it had come as a joke since even the name had its birth from one of her unusual cravings-.

When an agency called Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division first started purchasing large amounts of bouquets from one of his floristries Harry worried. Initially someone would order at least ten different bouquets and would mandate to have them delivered to different parts of the city. Then there came more petitions to each of the different branches that had opened around the country and even some back in Britain; it was then that the wizard asked to have an appointment with the head of the division.

As weird as it may sound it was then the start of an awkward yet great relationship.

When Agent Coulson first ordered a series of bouquets from Russus Fragaria there had been a crisis and a group of agents had died. From that moment onwards every time there was a major disaster or a joyous celebration the same number was called; he even had it in speed dial -and was saved by it in various occasions such as birthdays-.

When the owner of the franchise called him and with his enthralling voice asked him to have an appointment with Fury he had feared that the man would come out running, screaming and crying -as many before him- and that he would have to find a new place to save in his speed dial.

How very wrong he had been; precisely that beauty was no simple male.

There was a soft knock on the door of his office and in came a man of otherworldly beauty. He was tall and had a pair of endless legs clad in beige by the softest of silks, his chest was veiled by an ivory lace dress shirt, his feet were concealed by a pair of soft petal leather ballerina shoes, his creamy snow white skin and black as night hair enhanced the silver scar that crossed through one of his bright emerald eyes. The first thought that crossed the leader's head was that this man had to be another god, another Asgardian, and somehow had to be related to Thor.

The shock soon passed and the man with the eye-patch began a long rant on the many security protocols that the man had breached -for Coulson had not had the time to concrete an actual appointment-.

"Are you done?" the captivating male had asked with a bored expression after Fury had stopped his outburst.

The older man had clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow; he had to hand it to the young man, that beauty had guts.

"Yes" he had growled.

"Is there anything illegal going on here?" the young mage asked.

Fury raised a brow and actually looked at the man.

"Who wants to know?"

"The man that supplies you with an enormous quantity of bouquets"

"Ah, yes. Agent Coulson speaks highly of your shop. I can assure you that there is nothing illegal with our line of work, but we often do deal with deaths in both our personnel and the enemy lines. That is where your shop comes in" he explained as his eyes took in the stiff posture of the beauty. He was itching to throw the man through a window but it would not do to come so strongly to a male that only dealt with the aftermath of his division's worst missions.

Harry sighed and his shoulders relaxed.

"I see. It's a relief, Colonel" he told the man as he smiled brightly. "I have a strong view about right and wrong, and as I could not oversee everything that this… group does I could not simply continue to work with you and your people from the dark. I have a son, and if I find anything that even attempts to threaten his safety, Colonel, heads will roll. Am I understood?" he asked with an ice cold voice and stone hard eyes.

Fury had the distinctive necessity of swallowing and running as hard and fast as he could. The mere idea that this model like gorgeous man could incite these feelings just from speaking and looking at him had the man aching to start a full blown search on his past.

"Forget it Colonel. You won't find anything on me. A group of extraordinary people made sure of that. If you would you could say that I am in a sort of witness protection program" he explained when the older man frowned.

"I said nothing" the spy stated.

"I know that Colonel" the sorcerer chuckled, "but I know your type".

"My type?" he asked interested.

"Paranoid war heroes" he explained with a fond smile.

Fury raised an eyebrow. "And you would know that how?"

"I had a sort of uncle; he was part of a special branch of the police back home. He was one heck of a paranoid person. Constant Vigilance was his motto" he trailed off with a mirthful laugh.

"Back home?" he instigated for information.

Harry smiled mischievously.

"Britain, born and raised" he said mysteriously before cracking a smile; "You can always try and dig mud on my name".

Fury's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

"Why are you here? Who sent you?"

"I'm here to know if you are a threat to my newly found peaceful lifestyle and I have sent myself" he answered in between chuckles. He had to hand it to the man, apart from Mad-eye himself he was the first to ever come as close to the ex-Auror's paranoia.

"And had I been found to be a threat?" he demanded with an authoritative growl.

"I would have had to neutralize you, Colonel Nicholas Fury"

"You'd have killed me?" he snorted.

"You forget Colonel, there are things worse than death" Harry drawled bitterly.

"Such as?" he demanded.

"Wouldn't you consider losing your job and affiliations a fate worse than death itself?"

Fury opened his mouth to speak but the young mage was quicker.

"I am a very influential person; be it by money or other means. You are not your own boss for there are others above you; and you can bet your work that I know them. I have to go now Colonel, I have a son to tend to. Do send my regards to Alice next time you see her. If you'd like you can always call me, Mr. Fury, your Agent Coulson has my number. A capable man that one, don't lose him Nick" he winked and with that the beauty left a gaping one-eyed war hero behind.

From the moment that both war heroes had met a tentative friendship was made. Harry would let the man vent his stress on him and in return he would drag the one-eyed man through the long tedious hours of shopping all of his female friends threw upon him. The pair would drink together from time to time in different bars -never much as there were the occasional lose Death Eaters looking for Harry and Fury was just that much of a paranoid- and eventually the otherworldly enchanting man invited the hardened soldier to his home.

"You actually live here?" he asked skeptically. The sheer size of the thing was mind-blowing.

"I did tell you that I had financial power" defended the gorgeous man.

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Having financial power and being as filthy rich as to live in an actual palace is quite a different thing; and since when is this… this… this… this, here?"

"Well, I believe it was constructed back in 1842 but it has been kept secret since then. The only reason for me to have acquired it is because I knew the owner, and he kind of owned me a debt…" he trailed off.

As it turned out, having saved Draco Malfoy from death had turned out to be automatically a life debt. It hadn't helped that he had spoken for Narcissa Malfoy and her son in court. It was resolved in the only way that mage felt comfortable enough: Draco became his personal assistant of sorts and dealt with both his own state and Harry's. The Malfoy's old vacation resort, placed in a hidden area of Manhattan, was bought by the young sorcerer -as the couple was happy to give away anything that connected them to their dark past- and the family was free to go anywhere they wished. Time went by and Draco turned out to be a fierce business man for the fortune of both wizards was almost triplicated in barely a year -not that the beauty needed any more-.

"You- a debt- actually live- 1842- How in Heaven's name do I not know about this?" he exclaimed bewildered.

The mage chuckled merrily as he opened the front gate.

"I told you, it was kept a secret. There are things your bosses like to keep quiet about, you know right?"

"Yeah" he drawled bitterly. "Apparently a whole island as big as Manhattan is also covered. How does this thing not even appear in our satellite pictures?"

"Well, I believe that parts of the Bermuda's Triangle do not appear either, right?"

"Are you trying to tell me that there are other places such as this out there?"

"Well I'm not denying that no other concealed houses" the male's eye twitched at the expression, "exist out there; but rest assured there are none in Bermuda's Triangle. I was just trying to estipulate that this place could have been chosen because it wasn't easy to find" -not that he would reveal any magically made improvements-.

"Was it?" the beauty tilted his head confused "Was it chosen because it wasn't easy to find out?"

The mage chuckled with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"That is for me to know and for you to try and find out, Colonel" he batted his thick long ink-black eyelashes innocently.

"You-!" he growled.

"Yeah, yeah, come on, this way please. The ballroom is on the west wing".

"Ball room?" he asked bewildered.

"Yes well, it has a bar…" he trailed off defensibly.

"You have a bar, where you make your own alcoholic beverages, in a personal Ballroom." The one-eyed man stated as if he were a child and needed reassurance.

"Yes well, it came with the house" he tried to explain as he fought a blush down unsuccessfully.

"House, of course you would call it a fucking house" he muttered as he followed the other male's steps.

Many thanks on the quick response. It made me feel special; having so much people reading my story was surprising.