Chapter Text
"Hey, Natasha,” Steve inquired one day, “what are you reading?”
“Oh, this?” She waved the book, then tossed it to him. “Harry Potter. I read them when they came out, but I liked the last one, so I thought I’d re-read it.”
“Harry Potter?” He sat down on the sofa next to her and turned the book over in his hands. “Well, he’s certainly got some weird clothes on. What is it, a bathrobe?”
“They’re wizarding robes, Steve. He’s a wizard. Magic and all that.”
“Magic?” asked Steve dubiously. “Didn’t think you’d be into magic books.”
“It’s not really about magic, it’s about…well. Give me a second. It might be easier for you to read it than for me to explain it.”
She came down a few minutes later with a battered paperback in her hand. He took it from her.
“Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,” read Steve. He raised an eyebrow at Natasha.
“Look, just read it. I know it’s technically for kids, but the series is actually really good. Anyway, you should probably know about this series anyway. Harry Potter has been huge in the past decade or so. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it before. Consider it part of your cultural re-integration program.”
He walked out of the room, still looking skeptical. Natasha grinned. "Let me know how you like the first few chapters." ...except he didn't. Natasha didn't see him in the training room, the living room, not even the kitchen. Finally, when it came time for dinner, he came downstairs. Throughout dinner, he barely spoke; all he did was stare off into the distance and shovel food into his mouth. He approached Natasha afterwards, while she loaded the dishwasher. “Ok, Natasha," he began sheepishly, "so maybe these books aren’t that bad, after all. How many books did you say there were?”
She smirked triumphantly. “Seven. I have them all. I’ll bring them over to your room in a little while.”
And, true to her word, she did—all six of the remaining books. He read them all in a week and a half, taking breaks only to eat and take an occasional nap. Once he was done with them, he made Bucky read them all, too. Bucky somehow finished them in a week (probably because he didn’t bother sleeping), and the two of them could talk about nothing else.
One day during dinner, they were debating whether or not they shipped Ron and Hermoine.
“Well, Buck, I feel like their weird passive aggressive behavior towards each other—”
“It’s called being in love, Steve!”
“—would cause problems later in their lives. I liked Viktor Krum.”
“Viktor Krum?” repeated Bucky incredulously.
“Actually,” Bruce cut in, “J.K. Rowling did mention that she regretted pairing Hermoine and Ron. I think she said it in an interview recently.”
“See?” exclaimed Steve.
“Whatever.”
Pepper Potts sighed. “I’m with you on this one, Bucky. I loved Ron and Hermoine as a couple! I felt like it was building throughout the whole series. Plus, I thought Rupert and Emma had some great chemistry in the movies. I saw an interview where…” Here she trailed off, because Bucky and Steve were staring at her with eyes big as saucers.
“Movies?” whispered Bucky. Then again, louder, “Movies?”
“Yup,” responded Clint. “Eight of ‘em.” He thought for a minute. “They’re probably on Netflix.”
Steve and Bucky looked at each other, then grabbed their plates and sprinted into the living room.
“Hey! Hey!” shouted Tony. “Don’t get any marinara sauce on my sofa!”
But it wasn’t clear whether or not they’d heard the warning, for Hedwig’s Theme had already drowned it out.