Chapter Eighteen: The New World Order (2017)

Bucky squinted down at the note cards in his hand incredulously. "Who the hell wrote this?"

"The speech writer Pepper decided to hire for me," replied Tony, reclining back in a plush leather desk chair that came with the office they were using to prepare. "Apparently I'm volatile, self-obsessed, and don't play well with others."

"That I knew," murmured Bucky as he flipped through the stack of cards he'd been handed a few minutes ago. It had been his intent to write his own speech, but Pepper recommended he at least have a professional put together something based on his notes. Admittedly, whoever she'd hired had done a pretty good job of including everything he wanted, but there was one glaring problem with it all: it was too political. This wasn't some campaign speech, nor was it a way to get into people's good graces. This was meant to be informative, and if that meant telling a few uncomfortable truths, Bucky didn't want them glossed over by someone whose job it was to make people in power look good.

While he was distracted, Tony made an outraged sound that he hardly listened to. "You know, Nine Lives, I'm amazed that's how you feel when we've spent so many hours together. Long, intimate—"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm poisoning your dinner."

"You wouldn't."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, smirking when Tony turned back towards the window with a huff. They had spent a considerable amount of time together since Bucky had gotten back to work in mid-September, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. The positive part was that they worked well together and got shit done; the bad part was that, while Tony was insufferable in moderate portions, he was positively unbearable full time. There had been many a day when Bucky had gone home and ranted at Steve about some ridiculous thing that had happened that day, more often than not either directly caused by Tony or indirectly influenced by his idiocy. It was usually a tossup as to which one it was on any given day.

Steve, for his part, was a patient listener and frequently chimed in sympathetically. Bucky wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself when his best friend moved out, not that he would be going far. He and Peggy had rented an apartment on the floor below Bucky's and were planning on moving in together during the coming summer. Now that she was heading up an oversight task force for the new Magical Council, it wasn't like she and Steve would step on each other's toes in the same department anymore. It was something they were both relieved by, and Peggy was beyond excited to start her new job.

When the Ministry had eventually been put back in one piece, the entire community had agreed that things needed to change. There was no way putting a Minister in charge and handing them all the power to make decisions for the benefit (or detriment, as it were) of everyone was going to work after what Pierce had nearly accomplished. Instead, things had been restructured: there was a council at the head of the Ministry now, one that democratically voted on what legislation would be put in place only after consulting their Muggle counterparts. Many of the departments were still structured similarly, but there were more leaders to ensure that no single person was overseeing anything. Then, of course, there were about fifty people who would be doing the same thing Peggy was: watching them all like a hawk to make sure none of them got any delusions of grandeur in their heads.

There was also a lot more interaction between the magical community and Muggle ones not only in Britain, but around the world as well. It was really unavoidable given the fact that there was no hiding what had happened in London. Too many Muggles had seen and too many were dead to make Memory Charms a feasible alternative. Besides, if they were going to condemn Hydra's actions, they had to start by putting the right foot forward; that meant admitting that maybe it was finally time to give the Muggles some credit and come out in the open. It was a lot faster than anyone had been anticipating, not mentioning the volatility and fear that the Muggle community had exuded in the wake of the Hydra attack, but it had turned out for the better. If it hadn't, Bucky wouldn't exactly be here today, glaring down at his offensively inoffensive speech.

There was a knock on the door, and after Tony called for whoever it was to enter, Wanda popped her head just inside to tell him it was time. Bucky nodded, shooting her a quick smile as he followed her out into the corridor with Tony on his heels.

As they approached the ballroom, Bucky dumped his note cards into the trash can just outside the door. He'd done what Pepper suggested and got a second opinion—now he was just going to wing it. It wasn't as if he didn't have the genes for it.

"I'm telling you, kiddo, if there's one thing your mom does better than anything else, it's make shit up."

Bucky smiled at the memory of his mother's speech when she'd accepted the position of Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic all those years ago. His father had been kidding, of course, but there was a kernel of truth to it: Bucky's mom always had a knack for figuring out what she wanted to say to get her point across and just doing it, not waiting around to make sure her words were met with the approval of those above her. More often than not, she had nothing prepared but her own beliefs. It had always been enough, so Bucky would let her lead by example.

When they entered the Stark Industries ballroom, the place was full to bursting. The room took up most of the fifteenth floor, the outer wall made up of windows overlooking London with a beautiful view of the Thames. Round tables had been set up so that all those in attendance would have somewhere to sit as they listened to his speech and then ate dinner afterward. Bucky had to admit that, while he hadn't been part of the decorating, he was vastly impressed with what Nat, Wanda, Clint, and Thor had come up with. The tablecloths were a striking royal blue, accentuated by the silver chairs and place settings that adorned each table fit for ten. The fluorescent lighting had been replaced by floating tea candles that offered a much softer atmosphere with the sun setting just on the other side of the city.

At the head of the ballroom was a small stage with a lone podium bearing a familiar logo in the center. Bucky immediately turned in that direction, making a beeline for his position as Wanda and Tony bade him good luck (or, in the latter's case, said not to mess up too badly or he'd be forced to turn it into a comedy routine) and broke off to join the table where the rest of their friends were sitting. Steve gave him a quick thumbs up on his way by, and more than one grin of approval met him as he approached the stage where Pepper was waiting.

She met him at the side of the stage, kissing his cheek and whispering, "All set?"

"As I'll ever be," he snorted quietly in response. She laughed lightly before frowning at his hands with raised eyebrows.

"Where are your cards?"

"Uh…"

That was obviously all the answer she needed. Sighing in exasperation, she muttered something about him being just as bad as Tony, to which he took great offense, and turned to head back to the podium. Bucky didn't bother explaining why—this was his shindig no matter where it happened to be taking place, and he was going to say what he wanted to say. Pepper would get over it. At least she didn't have to worry about him doing something stupid like Tony was wont to do.

Bucky didn't have time to ponder what exactly Tony would say in this situation before Pepper cleared her throat and, out at their table, someone clinked a knife against their glass for attention. Since it wasn't as if they were greeting a bunch of random attendees as much as a room full of (unfortunately) press and government officials, both Muggle and magical, the room fell silent rather quickly and turned its attention to Pepper.

"Good evening," she greeted them all with a warm smile. "I'm sure it goes without saying how grateful we are that all of you were able to be present for this wonderful opportunity. I would hate to keep you waiting another moment, so I'll let the real star of our show tonight take it from here. I'd like to introduce the host of this evening's event, James Barnes."

Polite applause filled the ballroom as Pepper stepped aside and gestured for him to take her place. There were a few bubbles of increased enthusiasm, particularly from his friends and some of the reporters who knew him fairly well, but it was all very professional otherwise. Bucky thanked Pepper under his breath and turned to face everyone, pulling in what he hoped was an inconspicuous breath. He tried to remember that he'd done this before at his graduation—it didn't help much.

"Thank you, Pepper, and thank you to everyone who managed to be here today," he addressed everyone, allowing their scattered clapping before he pressed on. "Some of you know me as the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Others know me as the son of former Senior Undersecretary Winifred Barnes. And others are probably wondering who the idiot standing up on stage is."

There were a few titters, mostly from the Muggle crowd. Bucky smiled encouragingly at them.

"Don't worry, we'll get there. Whether you know me or not, though, I think we can all agree things have been rough. Seven months ago, the wall between our worlds came down in what was probably not the most tactful way." A few more people laughed at that rather egregious understatement. "It didn't matter if you were part of the Wizarding community or not: everyone was impacted. Our Ministry was torn down, literally, and left us with no governance or guidance. An enormous part of London's infrastructure and city structures were damaged, in some cases beyond repair. And worst of all, three hundred forty-six people were killed. Of those, seventy-six were Muggles, or those who couldn't use magic. It didn't matter who you were: the event was tragic, and the repercussions affected everyone both here and around the world.

"We couldn't just hide anymore. There was no taking everything back and telling people to pretend you didn't see that. Things had to change, and in the last few months they have. A lot of that change has been for the better while other things have been challenging. After all, how do you take two groups of politicians, shove them in a room, and tell them to play nice, right?"

That joke got more of a rise out of people. A few of the more stoic figures off to the side, who obviously were politicians, wore grudgingly amused expressions while others were laughing outright at the reality of that statement. They'd all seen the ridiculous news reports, whether on the Muggle or magical media outlets, about bickering and posturing and dick-measuring going on at the national level. It wasn't entertaining at first, but eventually they'd all come to see the humor in it once things had gotten a bit better.

Bucky waited for everyone to calm down again and then continued a bit more seriously, "Even though we've come a long way, there's a lot more that we need to do yet. It's been seven months, but that's nowhere near as long a time as we've been hiding from one another. And no, it's not going to change overnight—that would be way too optimistic. But there are things we aren't doing that we should be to understand each other and start putting our worlds together. That's the one thing I keep seeing no matter where I go that hasn't been addressed yet. Yeah, we're starting to recognize each other and no one's running around screaming that witches are coming, but we're not integrating. The traditionally magical sections of the city have remained that way, as have the Muggle areas. Now that everything is out in the open, a lot of wizards and witches have retreated to those places. Diagon Alley is more packed than ever, and I've heard so many people there saying that they're thinking of moving out of the city so they don't have to deal with the fallout. I've listened to just as many Muggles saying they don't really care if someone is a witch or wizard, but they really don't want to be around any of them just to be safe.

"This has to stop. The time has come for us to start actively pulling our communities together and living as one group of people. If we don't, we're no better than Hydra or anyone else who tried to make our separation final forever."

His words were met with silence, a few of his audience gaping at him with shocked expressions. Those were obviously the people who didn't know him well; the magical media weren't surprised at all. They were too used to his infrequent yet blunt media encounters to be bothered by it and were simply taking down what he was saying to put in tomorrow's Daily Prophet and The Quibbler. At his table, Sarah, the Petrovs, and all his friends were watching with proud smiles on their faces. That more than anything else gave him the strength to power on.

"This problem has been something I've been working on over the last few months. As many of you know, I operate a nonprofit charity organization for children called S.H.I.E.L.D. We took in over two hundred children in the last six months, magical and Muggle, who lost their parents and guardians during the Hydra attack. It became obvious very quickly that that wasn't enough, though. We've always catered to children in need, kids who want to learn more about magic or about Muggles, whatever their interests may be—but they're not the only ones who have to live in this new world we're creating. We all do, which is why I am proud to welcome you not to Stark Industries, but to the newest addition to the S.H.I.E.L.D. Foundation.

"Thanks to tremendous support from Stark Industries, we have been able to create a second facility right here in Stark Tower. Starting Monday morning, the first fourteen floors of the building will be reopening to the public as the new S.H.I.E.L.D. educational facility. Our headquarters in Crawley will still be our primary care location for children in need, but we felt that this would be the best location to offer educational and assistance services—whether you're a Muggle or a witch or wizard or a Squib. Our goal was always to be the light in the darkness, and we've come through some pretty dark times. At the S.H.I.E.L.D. location within Stark Tower, we will be providing programs for Muggle adults and children who wish to know more about the magical community, as well as opportunities for them to become acquainted with how the other side lives and tour some magical sites throughout Britain. Members of the Wizarding community will be welcome to do the same, to learn how to use Muggle technology and understand how they live. Those born without powers to magical parents and vice versa will have a place in our program, where we will provide orientation to help acclimate them to the new roles they are about to embody while also ensuring they will have opportunities for formal education and employment within the community they most identify with."

He was forced to stop when the room exploded into thunderous applause, including from the Muggle delegation and politicians. When he put his hand up for silence, it took a few minutes before everyone quieted down enough to allow him the chance to conclude.

"After dinner tonight, each and every person here will get a tour of the facilities. Members of the press will be given an extensive description of everything S.H.I.E.L.D. in London has to offer so that you can do your honorable duty of letting the rest of the world know that we are here for them. Whether you can use magic or not, we'll never close our doors, in London or in Crawley or in any of the other locations where we are beginning to plan facilities around the globe. We'll be here to help everyone create one world and one community based on equality for all its members. I know I speak for myself as well as the rest of the fine people who work at S.H.I.E.L.D. when I say that we appreciate any contributions you make to this effort. It doesn't take much, just a willingness to change. Thank you very much, and enjoy your dinner."

Rather than applause, a series of impressed and confused gasps echoed around the ballroom as plates and glasses were automatically filled with the evening's fare. The magical folks were the first to recover, applauding his speech as well as the arrival of their food with gusto until the Muggles eventually joined in. Inclining his head once in acknowledgement, he moved off the stage with Pepper to take their seats.

Bucky collapsed into his with a heavy exhale, smiling at the pats on his shoulders and words of congratulations he received from his friends. (Well, all except Clint, but it wasn't fair to expect him to be coherent when he was eating after putting in a full day of manual labor getting everything ready.)

"That was wonderful," gushed Tatiana, reaching past Sarah to squeeze his hand. From Mikhail's smile, Bucky assumed he was in agreement.

"Thanks," he murmured bashfully, feeling his face warm up as Sarah pecked a kiss to his cheek.

"You reminded me of your mom up there," she whispered for just the two of them. "She'd be so proud."

Of that, Bucky had no doubt. Hearing it was always pleasant, though, especially given what day it was.

As if sensing the somber nature of his thoughts, Winter hopped out of Steve's lap onto his (because it was his shindig, and anyone who had a problem with her being here could get lost). He was further distracted by her constant begging for the food on his plate, which he was the biggest sucker in the world for letting her have and hardly gave a shit about it.

The food was excellent, although there had been no question of that since Fury had loaned them the Hogwarts house-elves for the event and was even enjoying the festivities from a table filled with professors not far off. It wasn't often that teachers decided to take time away from Hogwarts during term, but many of them had made an exception for this. When Bucky's eyes connected with Heimdall's, the latter nodded with a smile that told him just how much his former professor respected him. He'd even been stopped on his way back to the table by Fury and May, who had both shaken his hand like an equal. (His first instinct when he saw them was to fall back into the old student-teacher relationship they'd had, and it always took him a moment to realize that he was too old for that anymore.)

Overall, despite there being a good bit of the evening left to mess up, Bucky felt like the day had been an unmitigated success. It wasn't often that that happened; there was usually something waiting around the corner to sucker punch him in the gut for thinking he could get away with having a one hundred percent excellent day every now and again. It seemed like that sensation was on vacation today, though, and Bucky couldn't be happier. S.H.I.E.L.D. would continue to help people no matter who they were, he hadn't screwed up his speech, he was surrounded by friends and family—honestly, even if something did suddenly go wrong, it would have to be pretty huge for him to feel any less than completely content with his life at that moment.

Of course, there was just one thing missing that appeared after dinner had been cleared away to make room for dessert.

The house-elves who levitated in his birthday cake to a rousing rendition of the traditional song, sung by everyone gathered in the ballroom, were dressed in little tuxedoes to mark the momentous occasion rather than the rags they would have been wearing a decade ago if people like Alexander Pierce had it their way. As it was, Bucky was still embarrassed that they had to heft such a huge load, regardless of the fact that they were using magic to do it: the cake had eight layers of alternating yellow and black fondant, with the Hufflepuff house crest and the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo emblazoned in places of glory on the very top tier.

Laughing, Bucky shook his head at the ridiculous size of the surprise as his friends came around the table to form a wall between him and the rest of the room. He couldn't help but be grateful to them for it. As flattered as he was by the display, it was his twenty-first birthday, and this was a time that he wanted to be reserved just for them.

When he blew out the mercifully meager number of candles, Bucky didn't even bother making a wish. He had everything he could possibly ever hope for and so much more.

A/N: And there you have it! Thank you so much to anyone who has been reading, and special thanks to Karina for all of your wonderful and entertaining comments! There's still more to the story in the one-shots I'll be posting, all of which will be put in one fic called "Days Gone By." Those one-shots will cover various portions of the story from before the narrative begins in "World So Cold" to the end of the series, all from different perspectives to fill in some of the holes that we don't get because Bucky can't possibly see all that is happening. Some are happy, some are sad, but I hope you enjoy them all the same. Besides that, I actually have an Avengers/Cap fic in the works that I'm hoping to begin posting towards the beginning of the summer once I've finished one of my FFXV stories, so if you've enjoyed this series (despite the fact that my writing style has certainly changed a great deal since I originally wrote it two years ago!), hopefully I'll see you there. Thank you again!