Tony Stark had never been particularly fond of quiet moments. Silence made space for thoughts, and thoughts were dangerous things. Especially now.
Down in his private lab, with the whirring hum of his AI assistants, Tony paced like a caged tiger.
"Alright," he muttered, gesturing wildly as he walked in circles, "let's recap. Dark wizard. Somehow de-aged. Possibly immortal. Claims we're blood. And now apparently, I'm hosting him like this is some goddamn magical Airbnb."
"Would you like me to print a welcome brochure, Sir?" Jarvis quipped, his voice laced with sarcasm.
Tony wanted to throw a wrench at the speaker. "Not helping, J."
"It was meant to lighten the mood."
"Well, try again. Make it funnier."
Jarvis paused. "How about this: You've inherited generational trauma and a magical war criminal. Congratulations, you're officially the Wizarding Kardashian."
Tony snorted. "That's terrible. But points for delivery."
After a few more circles, mechanical grumbles, and muttered curses about ancestors, Tony finally stopped, exhaled, and ran both hands through his hair.
"…Holy shit," he muttered to himself again. "This is real."
After another moment to collect his thoughts — which mostly involved him mentally screaming into the void — Tony straightened up, fixed his collar, and leaves the lab heading toward the living room.
———
He stepped into the room, prepared for anything.
Well — almost anything.
Because what he absolutely did not expect was to find the Ancient One sitting casually on his favorite couch, sipping tea and laughing—laughing—with none other than Gellert Grindelwald.
Tony froze like a deer in high-beam repulsors.
"…Jarvis," he whispered through gritted teeth. "Why didn't you tell me she was here?"
"Reaction, sir," Jarvis answered innocently. "I find that letting you walk into emotionally chaotic scenes offers the best data for future sarcasm responses."
Tony looked up at the ceiling like it had betrayed him. "I need to start uninstalling your personality matrix."
"Wouldn't dare, sir. You'd miss me."
Tony finally walked into the room with a loud, tired exhale. "Okay. No offense to either of you, but seeing the Sorcerer Supreme playing tea party with a wanted magical war criminal wasn't really on my bingo card today."
The Ancient One looked up at him with her usual mysterious calm. "Tony. How are you?"
Tony raised a hand, pointing vaguely toward the balcony. "Emotionally compromised. Mentally exhausted. Pretty sure I now believe in past lives. Oh, and—" He jabbed a finger at Grindelwald. "—He's hot. It's illegal. And he's family. That's even worse."
Grindelwald offered a charming smirk from his corner. "Flattered, truly."
The Ancient One chuckled lightly and sipped her tea. "I understand your struggles, Mr. Stark. But… it's all in the genes."
Tony groaned and flopped into the nearest armchair like his bones were made of lead. "Of course it is. Of course it is. Stark genes. Grindelwald genes. What's next? Merlin was my great-uncle too?"
"No," Grindelwald said with a wink. "Just your neighbor."
"Not helping," Tony snapped.
The Ancient One gave him a gentle look. "And how are your magical exercises coming along?"
Tony grumbled. "I'm doing fine with the basic shielding. Still struggling with this whole 'see the world through the soul' mumbo jumbo. It's vague. Unstructured. Like a yoga retreat with laser beams."
"You'll get there," she said softly. "You're closer than you think."
Tony glanced at her, slightly embarrassed. "You always say that."
"Because it's always true."
The room was quiet for a few moments.
Then Grindelwald shifted in his seat. "Anthony," he said casually, "I hope you don't mind if I stay the night. I've been traveling for days. Not through airports, obviously. But apparition is rather exhausting."
Tony blinked at him. "You… want to sleep here?"
Grindelwald tilted his head. "Just a room. A bed. A few hours. I promise not to curse your furniture."
Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But stay out of the way. No wandering. No magical pranks. And definitely no trying to manipulate my toaster to predict the future."
Grindelwald placed a hand on his heart. "Scout's honor."
Tony stared. "You were never a scout."
"I was a dark scout."
Tony couldn't help it — he snorted. "You're ridiculous."
The Ancient One looked amused. "Why not let him stay?"
Tony gave her a blank stare. "Because he's wanted. As in, magical bounty posters, cursed lockets, international war trials—wanted."
She set her teacup down gently. "But he's with you now. And no one can touch him here."
Tony squinted. "What is that supposed to mean?"
The Ancient One simply gave him a mysterious smile, stood, and walked toward the portal opening silently on the far wall. "You'll understand soon enough."
And just like that, she stepped through — and vanished.
Tony blinked at the empty space. "You know, I hate it when she does that."
He stood, ran a hand down his face, then turned toward Grindelwald.
"Alright. Come on. I'll show you to your room. It's got high ceilings, blackout curtains, and no access to explosives."
Grindelwald stood with a graceful nod. "Much appreciated, cousin."
As they walked toward the guest wing, Grindelwald looked sideways with a smirk. "You know, you could've just said I was the more attractive side of the family."
Tony rolled his eyes. "Please. I'm at least a 9. You're maybe a 7.5, if you don't smile too smug."
Grindelwald laughed — not darkly, not threateningly — but freely. And oddly, it made Tony feel less tense.
"Fair enough," the wizard said. "Let's see if your guest beds are as comfortable as your sarcasm."
Tony cracked his neck. "Just remember — Jarvis records everything. Try anything shady and I'll call that lady who will banish you to a pocket dimension filled with nothing but Twilight movies and pineapple pizza."
"Noted," Grindelwald said with a grin. "You truly are a Stark."
Tony paused just before opening the door to the guest room. "God help us all."
————
Tony Stark was deep in sleep, comfortably tangled in the sheets of his master bedroom, when the voice of Jarvis cut through the silence.
"Sir. I must insist you wake up immediately."
Tony groaned, half-asleep. "Tell me it's not an emergency."
A pause. Then Jarvis replied in a flat, too-calm tone. "Someone may be dying soon enough. Most likely your cousin."
Tony's eyes flew open. "Wait—what?! Who?!"
"Downstairs. Kitchen. Now, sir."
Tony threw off the covers and bolted out of bed, not even bothering to fix his hair. His heart pounded with the familiar surge of adrenaline, but unlike the usual chaos of tech meltdowns or global alerts, this one had a far more personal edge.
He ran barefoot through the sleek halls of the tower, every step echoing through the walls. He braced himself for… he wasn't sure what, but certainly not this.
He slid into the kitchen—and froze.
There stood Percival Graves, wand drawn, his face like carved stone. His entire stance screamed combat readiness. His sharp eyes were fixed on the man seated at the kitchen counter, wine glass in hand, looking like he belonged on the cover of some absurdly expensive magazine.
Gellert Grindelwald.
Calm, collected, and absolutely shameless—wearing a loose, half-unbuttoned white shirt that exposed just enough collarbone to be illegal in most civilized societies. His legs were casually crossed, and he regarded the wand aimed at him as if it were a fly on the wall.
Tony blinked. Then he deadpanned, "…It's so illegal that he's my family. Why the hell did God make him hot?"
The silence shattered.
Percival jerked slightly, startled by the voice behind him. "Tony? Stay back! Hide! That's Gellert Grindelwald!"
Grindelwald didn't even flinch. Instead, he smiled with practiced ease and tilted his head. "Yes, it's me. Infamous, feared, and devastatingly attractive. Do tremble."
Tony let out a sigh and dragged a hand down his face. "God, I need coffee for this."
Percival kept his stance. "What kind of dark magic did he use to make himself look like that?"
Grindelwald raised an amused eyebrow. "It's called genetics, darling."
Tony walked past Percival, waving a dismissive hand. "Put the stick down, Percival. Believe it or not, he's my relative."
That hit harder than any spell.
Percival's eyes snapped to Tony in disbelief. His arm lowered slightly, but his grip was still firm. "What? You're joking."
Tony met his gaze, completely serious. "Nope. Long-lost Grindelwald bloodline crap. Some adopted sibling of his married my great-granddad. Family tree's a damn mess."
Percival's jaw clenched. He slowly turned back to Grindelwald, who gave him a wink.
Tony folded his arms. "So… you knew, didn't you?"
Percival hesitated for only a second, then nodded. "It was a theory. A distant one. I hadn't confirmed it until now." He looked Tony dead in the eye. "But are you sure? That's Grindelwald."
Before Tony could speak, a sudden presence moved behind him.
Strong arms wrapped around Tony's torso, and a chin settled gently on the top of his head. Tony tensed, instantly recognizing the audacity of it.
Grindelwald.
He stood behind him like it was the most natural thing in the world, holding Tony with casual familiarity as he stared directly at Percival.
Percival's wand hand twitched in pure reflex.
Grindelwald's voice was quiet but firm, laced with that silken charisma. "Tony is mine. By blood. You may dislike me, but we are bound—family, through and through."
He smiled, though his eyes held a deeper glint.
"Yes, I made mistakes. I waged war, I chased a dream too far. But it was for what I believed was the Greater Good."
Tony gave a sharp snort. "Yeah, well, genocidal philosophy aside…" He absolutely hate it if someone touches him but for some reason he doesn't feel so uncomfortable with him still feel awkward though.
Grindelwald continued without missing a beat. "But I'm not that man anymore. I've seen enough. I want peace—solitude, perhaps. As long as people leave me alone, I will not raise a wand in violence again."
Percival's gaze didn't soften. But he didn't attack either.
Tony, finally managing to wiggle free of Grindelwald's clingy hold, turned toward him with narrowed eyes. "If you're serious about changing, prove it. Don't flirt with my friends, don't steal my wine, and—above all—don't turn my kitchen into a war zone at 7 a.m."
Grindelwald placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me."
Tony muttered, "You'll survive."
He grabbed a mug and started pouring himself coffee, eyeing the two wizards carefully.
"You," he said, pointing at Grindelwald. "Stay quiet."
"And you," he turned to Percival, "put the wand down. If he does anything sketchy, I'll blast him through the window myself."
Percival gave a slow, reluctant nod and finally lowered his wand.
The tension lingered, but for now, the storm had passed.
Tony took a long sip of his coffee. Then glanced over at Grindelwald.
"If Voldemort walks in next, I'm selling the tower."
Grindelwald raised his glass again. "I'll make sure he knocks first."