Chapter Text
Wanda woke with a headache.
It was the kind of headache she was used to after being exposed to the Mind Stone, the kind where all her new senses were just too much. Growing pains, Pietro had called them. He only got cramps when his power came in. Wanda was still bitter about it.
On this particular morning, she could feel the mind of every person on the floors below, buzzing around in the back of her head as they went about their business. Higher up she could feel the hum of Tony’s various machines, like the robots in his lab, chugging away at their jobs, and the refrigerator that were on and running even on the floors no one visited.
Far too close were the sharp spikes of feelings from the Avengers still in the Tower, too jarring to let her relax. (It didn’t help that they were all so close. The thoughts of her friends were always too clear, too easy to pick up, like she was so tuned to them, specifically.)
Tensions were high from the day before. Rhodey had yet to return, but he had a job outside of the Avengers, so it was normal. What wasn’t normal was that Stark had stayed clear of the Avengers floors since he had stormed off, instead he hunkered down in his lab halfway up, curiosity spiking through his usual red/gold thoughts. Steve was leaving, his peppermint flavored anger disappearing into the crowd halfway down the tower. Natasha’s burning caution was completely absent.
Her thoughts brushed against Vision’s in the kitchen and he sent a grassy spike of happiness in greeting. Wanda never figured out how he did that. She didn’t think she would ever be able to control her feelings to such a fine degree to be able to communicate, and he did it like it was completely natural. Maybe it was, for him.
So she stayed in bed. She rolled herself up in a blanket and focused on her breathing, on the ridiculously soft material oh her silk pajamas, on the warmth of her sherpa blankets. Tried not to think of the explosion, and Sokovia before that, and all the people murdered by Ultron, and how disappointed Pietro would be.
She looked up cat videos on her phone until the pounding in her head settled into a more manageable throb.
Until an unfamiliar curtain brushed against her mind.
Murmuring voices, the texture of soft cloth, gray fog rolling over muffled conversation.
Wanda debated for another minute, listening to the jumbled voices, until she rolled out of her burrito and padded down the hall and into the common room.
It was empty. The lights were on. Someone was sitting out on one of Nat’s lawn chairs. No one she recognized, with black hair caught in the wind and a red hoodie clinging to slim shoulders.
With a deep breath and a twinge of concentration, that was whoever’s mind sounded like soft whispers and stillness.
She pushed the door open.
Tony insisted he would fix the doors to the sleek, modern, sliding ones most of the rest of the Tower sported, but he never got around to it. Wanda thought he put them in as some sort of joke that she couldn’t quite understand. But the fact that they weren’t the sleek, modern doors meant they got caught in the wind and slammed open.
The person spun around, brandishing a stick—
And fell off the balcony.
His thoughts flashed with bright green fear as he disappeared over the edge, and Wanda’s feet were moving before she could think. She dashed to the edge, pulling up the glowing scarlet of her mind-magic to her fingers and flinging it after the falling body.
She caught him a third of the way down to the ground, and paused to catch her breath. Wrapped in her magic, she felt the rapid thump-thump-thump of his heart through her fingers. “Flying” she thought she heard the voiced say. “Falling. Death.”
With a twist of her wrist she brought him back up and set him on the balcony, well away from the drop-off.
“How about next time,” she said, through the adrenaline running through her brain, “we don’t sit near the edge.”
She was still sensitive enough to hear the jumbled voices chuckle. Amusement, she thinks, like how sometimes Vision’s amusement hums. He sprawled on his back.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He huffed out a laugh. “Thanks for saving me.” A pause. “However you did it.”
“Of course.” She helped him up. He was roughly her age, she thought, perhaps a year or two younger. His thoughts were settling into a calm sheen, and she did not look deeper.
“I like it up here,” he blurted out. “It feels like flying. Not- not that I would know what that’s like, that’s impossible-“
“It does.”
He hesitantly returned her smile and she finally shook herself into moving. She took one of the lounge seats. “Your accent. Are you new to the States?”
“Yeah. Is it that obvious?” Harry laughed, pleasantly surprised at the turn of conversation, and returned to his own lounge chair.
“Just a bit.”
“And you?”
“A few years now.”
“I’m Harry. Harry Potter. I’m an, um, intern. Stark mentioned the view, and I wasn’t doing anything, so…”
“It is a great view, I give him that. My name is Wanda Maximoff.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said with a smile, and that was it. No sharp, bright lights, not curtains, no screaming accusations. Just a greeting.
“You don’t know me,” she said instead of anything resembling a conversation.
Harry blinked. “Should I?” Harry really hoped they hadn’t been introduced before. That would be incredibly embarrassing.
“No, I suppose not.” Wanda smiled slightly. “They call me Scarlett Witch.”
“You’re a witch?” Silky surprise wove through his thoughts, curiosity not far behind.
“I do have a few tricks.”
“Do you know me?” he asked. A few flashes of green alarm shot through his thoughts, and Wanda cringed. It tasted like sour candy in the back of her throat. Wanda purposely did not wonder why.
“No, don’t worry. Tony doesn’t tell us a lot unless we need to know.”
“Really? He seems like he’s always talking.”
“And yet he says so little.”
Harry laughed, and Wanda smiled, and their conversation wandered.
They sat out on the balcony until the chill became a little too much, and Harry offered to make hot chocolate if she let him use the kitchen there. Needless to say, she accepted.
She liked Harry. They talked about the strange things in the States, the strange things about the Avengers, and the strange things about their homes.
There was no responsibility to control her powers, or become stronger, or train for any scenario. She felt… normal.
“Maybe you can visit downtown with me,” Wanda found herself saying over an empty mug. “I can show you around.”
“I’d like that.”
It wasn’t until Harry had gone that Wanda realized her migraine was gone, and she had spent the entire day in her pajamas.