Prove You Have A Heart

Chapter 3

Harry wasn't quite sure what to do with himself for the rest of the day; it was barely even ten by the time Tony's driver dropped him off outside his hotel, and despite being in a room full of strangers, he was definitely feeling his cheeks burn from the 'walk of shame' back up to his hotel room. He couldn't shake the irrational feeling that everyone knew he'd had sex with Tony. Not that he regretted it; it had been a lot of fun, and at least Hermione would appreciate the accolade of bedding Tony Stark when he got home, even if no one else knew who he was.

Changing into fresh clothes, Harry wandered down for breakfast in the hotel restaurant, not able to have much more than a couple of slices of toast and a boiled egg before his stomach began to protest, clearly still suffering from the violently green cocktails the night before. Even with sunglasses, he didn't think he could quite handle the blinding sunshine of the outdoor world, and wished Remus had thought to pack hangover potions. Surely he hadn't expected him to stay sober for two weeks with a fake ID? Deciding that the beach and clubbing yesterday definitely fulfilled his social quota for at least the next day, he went back up to his hotel room with a large bottle of water and some crackers, hoping his stomach would settle before lunch time.

He took the opportunity to get some more work done, ploughing steadily through the thick Gringotts portfolio, eyebrows steadily rising at the extent of his inheritance. He knew the Potter and Black fortunes were extensive, to say the least, but when you added sixteen years worth of interest - even longer for some of the Black vaults - plus profit from the many investments of both families, it was definitely a large sum of money. And on top of that, there was everything involved in PotterCo, the company that had been in his family for generations; it had been languishing, and Harry didn't doubt he'd be expected to take up the CEO position soon. He'd have to talk to Remus when he got home, see what it meant for him to be quite so wealthy. For now, he figured the best course of action was to put it back in his suitcase and ignore it until the end of his holiday. At least he knew he wasn't likely to have any repercussions from his shopping spree.

He dozed through another movie - he was rather enjoying the reintroduction to muggle culture - before deciding it was probably about time to find somewhere to eat for the evening. The sun was setting, and less offensive to his lingering hangover, so he showered and changed into something decent to wear for dinner, slipping his wallet and hotel keycard into his pocket. Riding the elevator down, he stepped out into the lobby, his eyes going wide when he saw a familiar man sprawled out on in one of the armchairs like he owned the hotel; for all Harry knew, he probably did. "Are you stalking me?" he asked bemusedly, walking to stand in front of the older man. Tony smirked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Not by definition of the law," he retorted evenly, standing. Harry snorted despite himself, lips quirking in a small grin. "I'm completely free for the rest of the evening. Have dinner with me." It was hardly a request, and Harry's grin widened a fraction. Tony was cocky, but he had to admit, he kind of liked it.

"That's not like you, from what I've heard," Harry pointed out. Tony's reputation wasn't exactly hard to find out.

"Sometimes I break my own rules," Tony told him, an attractive smirk on his face. His arm slid around Harry's back, directing him towards the hotel doors, and Harry didn't need to look to see people were staring. It was nothing he wasn't used to, though, so he decided to go with it, leaning into Tony's side.

"So how long did you spend waiting in the lobby?" he queried out of interest, and Tony looked somewhat sheepish behind his confident mask.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he replied evasively, opening the door to the same car he'd used the night before. "After you, gorgeous." Flushing faintly at the compliment, Harry slid into the car, Tony pressing close to him when he'd sat down, the heat of his thigh glaringly evident despite the two layers of denim between their skin. "Any preferences? Italian, Mexican, Thai?" Harry shrugged, surprised by the question.