The official groundbreaking happened the next day. Tony had taken one look at her, surrounded by the Weasleys and her friends, and in the diplomatic way he usually reserved for Stark Industries board meetings, made their excuses and shepherded Kendis to the car.

The next day, they arrived back at the construction site with Kendis looking a lot less overstimulated and a lot more irritated when Tony pulled out a shiny ceremonial shovel. He tried not to laugh as Kendis looked at the sky as if she was asking for help from some benevolent god.

Hermione, Ron, and the Weasley family had Apparated and made it to the site earlier than Tony and Kendis.

“Tony,” Kendis asked, exasperated. “Is this titanium?”

“Titanium alloy.” Tony brandished the shovel with a wide grin. After all the struggles with permits and logistics, they were finally going to break ground on their dream home. Tony refused to apologize for his enthusiasm.

“You bought a titanium shovel.” Kendis rubbed her head and then turned back to Tony with a dry, exaggerated look.

“I had a titanium shovel made,” Tony corrected, because specificity was important.

Kendis looked at the shovel in his hands and then back up to take in his wide, excited grin. “Why?”

Tony looked genuinely confused. “For the groundbreaking.”

Kendis looked at Mrs. Weasley and gestured widely to Tony. “See? This is what I live with.”

Mrs. Weasley bit back a laugh and then patted her hand. “Yes, dear, but he seems trainable.”

“I’m standing right here,” Tony frowned and crossed his arms. The last time he checked, he wasn’t Alke. He shot a look at Alke, who was, as Kendis insisted, the one they brought this time. Yesterday, she had been left with Hortense and Isiah because Tony had been concerned about the dog getting underfoot. The dog’s mouth was lolling in a doggie grin, and once again it felt as if the mutt was mocking him.

“Yes,” Mrs. Weasley said with a beatific smile. “That’s why I said it clearly.”

Kendis laughed so hard she had to lean into Tony’s side, and Tony, despite being insulted, couldn’t help but let his annoyed look fade into a soft, affectionate smile. Kendis’s laughter was one of his favorite sounds in the world.

Despite Tony intending to do it by himself, they ended up doing it together, with Kendis’s boots pressed into the dirt and Tony’s hand covering hers on the absurd shovel. Tony noticed that even Mrs. Weasley cried a little and then bit back a smile when she pretended that she didn’t. Arthur clapped excitedly, while Fred and George, the utter menaces, released a small burst of harmless enchanted sparks that made Happy shout.

Pepper, dependable as always, had taken photos for what she said were documentation purposes.

And beneath it all, Concordia patiently waited. The spirit of the land wasn’t asleep, wasn’t awake. She was just peaceful in her becoming.

***

The home that Kendis and Tony were building together wasn’t the first house he had built, but this build was the hardest one he had ever participated in. Tony quickly found that just because money was no object, it didn’t mean that it would be easy. Easier, yes, but still work, still an ever-morphing game of logistics and patience.

The permits they had to get just to break ground hadn’t been enough, but Tony greased the wheels of bureaucracy, pulling every string and calling in favors that he thought he would never have to use.

The construction crews rotated in shifts, around the clock. Every one of the workers had been vetted and compensated obscenely well. Tony and Kendis’s combined wealth had come in handy.

He frowned as he thought about the argument he had had with Kendis. Tony had insisted that he wanted to pay for everything, but they had already bought the land together. He could take care of the rest. Kendis had stubbornly refused. She just glared at him, poking him in the shoulder. “This marriage is a partnership, and you are not my sugar daddy. We do this together or not at all.”

Eventually, Tony knew better than to waste his time trying to change her mind and just threw up his hands. Pepper threw him a smirk as Kendis marched over to her to give Pepper her banking information.

Each member of the crew was vetted, required to sign a stack of non-disclosure agreements, and then obscenely compensated.

As days passed, the framing rose. Stone, wood, glass, steel, wiring, plumbing, insulation, custom fixtures, and experimental systems moved through the site in an orchestration so precise it made Hermione suspicious and Pepper exhausted.

Kendis spent the first week saying, “This is too fast.”

But Tony knew better; this was not his first build, after all. “It’s not fast if the Gantt chart says it’s controlled acceleration.”

“Tony,” Kendis stared at him. “That was not reassuring at all.”

By week two, the structure had shape.

By week three, it had wings.

By week four, it had a roofline that looked like Tony Stark and Lady Black had gotten into a design argument and accidentally invented a new architectural language. They had already fought over the design style. Tony wanted smooth, sleek postmodern lines, and Kendis wanted something cozier and more European.

Tony may have snuck a peek at Kendis’s Pinterest board, which was simply called “Houses,” and a lot of them looked like a gothic fairytale come to life. He supported his spouse’s emo aesthetics, but that was taking it too far.

Kendis ended up storming off when Tony tried to talk about it, and then, after a half hour, came back and apologized. They had a calm, rational discussion about it, which ended in a compromise. The house ended up looking like a Victorian Mansard-style mansion had a baby with a mountain chalet that had Craftsman-style sensibilities.

The roof was a dark royal blue done in a mansard style that crowned the top of the sprawling mansion. It was only broken up by steep gables with bronze-colored accents that contrasted nicely with the white of the siding and the Craftsman-style supports that framed the house. Tony had insisted on tons of windows and natural light, so the house had massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The center focus was a large cathedral-style A-frame window on either side of the house that looked out onto the front and backyard. There were deep terraces and wraparound balconies. Kendis wanted the black wrought-iron railings that stretched across the house.

They decided to fill in the front yard and the backyard with grass. Tony knew that Kendis had plans to have a garden, and he left that up to her.

But Tony had never considered that the real battle was still to come when they wanted to design the inside.

Tony wanted interior decor, and Kendis very much did not.

Tony wanted a modern, minimalist interior.

“I would rather hex out my eyes, thanks.”

Kendis wanted a cozy maximalist space.

Tony cringed at all the clutter and the color choices. Too bright, too bold, and doing way too much. Tony wanted a color palette that didn’t make him cringe.

Kendis called Tony’s style preference “a dry and seasonless cry for help.”

“Warmth,” Kendis argued.

“Line,” Tony countered.

“Texture.”

“Negative space.”

“I swear to God, Anthony, if you say negative space one more time,” Kendis threw up her hands, “I will positively space your body into the canyon.”

Tony retorted that her style was a haunted, crowded Victorian mansion, and both of them had to walk away before they broke their rule about not shouting at each other.

Kendis returned an hour later after a lap around the property and slapped a fabric swatch onto the table. It was rich, textured, jewel-toned, and unapologetically alive. “Color.”

“I prefer a clean visual language,” Tony said, primly.

“My love,” Kendis took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Your clean visual language looks like a billionaire got emotionally attached to an art museum lobby.”

Tony gasped.

Rhodey lost the battle and laughed. And why was Tony surrounded by traitors? You would think nearly twenty years of friendship would mean something. Apparently not!

Kendis continued, fully in motion now. “I am not living in a house where every room looks like I need written permission to sit down.”

“I would never make you request written permission.”

“You would make an app.”

Tony paused and looked away. It didn’t take her more than a glance to realize what he had done.

Kendis’s eyes widened, and she pointed at him. “You made an app.”

“It was a concept,” Tony shrugged.

“Delete it,” Kendis glared at him. Her gorgeous dark green eyes flashed at him, and Tony felt his cock twitch in his pants. Goddamnit, his spouse had no business looking that good when she was being this judgmental.

“It had chair preferences.”

“Delete it harder.”

The compromise came slowly, loudly, and with witnesses.

The first floor became their battlefield and their love letter. Tony got his postmodern lines, sculptural furniture, clean geometry, dramatic windows, clever lighting, hidden technology, and rooms that felt designed instead of assembled.

Kendis got warmth, color, plants, layered textures, art that actually looked like someone had lived a life before buying it, wood tones, books, textiles, and enough personality that no guest could mistake the house for a showroom.

“Postmodern maximalism,” Tony declared one afternoon, standing in what would become the foyer.

Kendis, dusty and tired and gorgeous with a pencil tucked behind one ear, looked around at the samples spread across the floor. “Or, as I like to call it, not being a posh wanker.”

Tony smiled. “Our first design movement.”

Kendis gave him a reluctant grin and shook her head.

Concordia, or rather The Concord House, as they now called it, flickered the temporary work lights.

Kendis looked up. “Don’t you start.”

The house flickered again, slower this time.

Tony’s grin spread. “She likes it.”

By week six, The Concord House stood finished. It should have looked new, but the strangest part was that it didn’t.

The mansion rose from the Sunland lot like it had been waiting underground for years and had finally pushed itself up into daylight. The place was enormous, larger than Kendis had wanted, larger than she was willing to admit made sense. It had two wings, deep porches, tall windows, warm wood, graceful lines, and the peculiar feeling of a place that had already decided who belonged inside.

The construction crews left, and now the dust had settled.

Kendis stood at the front with Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Molly, Arthur, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the twins, Ian, Jason, Hortense, Isiah, and Alke.

Alke sniffed the front steps, sneezed, and trotted inside like she owned the place.

Tony watched her go. “Rude. I paid for this!”

“We paid for this,” Kendis lifted an eyebrow, and Tony threw her a sheepish smile.

Mrs. Weasley stepped through the front door and immediately began inspecting. Tony had felt less nervous at congressional hearings. His pseudo-mother-in-law examined the foyer with the air of a hostile food critic.

“Good entryway,” Mrs. Weasley finally said. “Needs somewhere for shoes.”

“There’s a mud room,” Tony sighed.

“Oh, good!”

Kendis blinked. “You approve?”

“I approve of mud rooms.” Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. “I reserve judgment on everything else.”

The next two weeks belonged to magic and machinery.

Kendis had insisted on waiting to ward the house until she got the guest rooms in the east wing set up. He remembered the toll warding Kendis’s relatively small house had taken. This time, the Weasleys were helping with the task of powering the ward stones and patiently weaving the wards like a spider web of magic.

Tony, always fascinated with magic, could only watch as the Weasleys powered each stone and dropped it around the perimeter.

And the ritual, because it could only be called that. Ron, Kendis, and Hermione stood in the center with the pile of stones.

“I call the stone of mental protection to me,” Kendis intoned, her fingers moving in sharp, intricate motions as red light wrapped around her.

“I call the stone of physical attack.” Hermione did the same, and yellow energy wrapped around her hand.

“I call the stone for protection against fire,” Ron said as green light appeared.

One by one, each Weasley called the stones, and then Kendis and her two friends sat on the floor. The Weasleys held hands in a circle around them as they called the stones, one by one. Each protection against intrusion, against surveillance, against bad intentions, against magical attack, mundane attack, accidental discovery, fire, flood, and structural harm.

Each string wove together as the spiderweb of wards formed, until finally Ron, Hermione, and Kendis all said in unison:

“By the will of magic,”

“By the will of Merlin,”

“By the will of three,”

“Ita dicimus, fiat voluntas nostra!”

The flash of light was so bright it was nearly blinding, even with his shades on. Then the entire group sagged, but Tony was thankful that they didn’t collapse like they had last time when they re-did the wards to Kendis’s place.

Kendis had directed the others to the guest rooms, and Tony practically carried her to their bedroom in the west wing. He laid her down carefully on their large bed, the first bed they owned together. Tony kissed her on the forehead, then helped her get dressed for bed and tie a bonnet over her head.

Kendis brushed her fingertips across his face, and Tony kissed her fingers.

“Sap,” Kendis said, with a small, soft smile.

“Takes one to know one, amore mio,” Tony said, returning her smile.

****

Tony handled integrating JARVIS and moving the bots.

That process involved three server rooms, four arguments with his own code, six sleepless nights, and one deeply emotional conversation in the west basement workshop, where Tony explained to the house that JARVIS was not an intruder.

“He’s family,” Tony said, standing in the half-finished system core, one hand braced against a console. “He watches the doors, keeps the lights on, tells me when I’m being stupid—”

“I do not phrase it that way, sir,” JARVIS said through the temporary speakers.

Kendis snorted as she took a sip of her tea.

Tony ignored her. “He protects us. He protects her.”

The house creaked, but it wasn’t threatening. It was clear that the house was really considering it.

“Huh,” Kendis froze and tilted her head. “The wards are trembling.”

Tony’s voice softened. “You don’t have to let him everywhere. Boundaries are good. We love boundaries around here!”

“But he needs to be able to help,” Tony continued. “And I need you two not fighting in my walls.”

There was a pause, and then finally the lights warmed.

JARVIS’s voice came through, clearer this time. “I believe we have reached an understanding, sir.”

Kendis looked up. “She let you in?”

“Selectively,” JARVIS said. “With conditions.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What conditions?”

Several screens lit at once, and Kendis read them. Her eyes grew wide as she went through each rule, and then she threw her head back and laughed.

Curious, Tony leaned over. “What?”

Kendis turned the screen toward him.

HOUSE ACCESS AGREEMENT:

JARVIS may monitor safety systems, environmental controls, and external threats.

JARVIS may not override magical wards without Kendis Black’s consent except in immediate life-threatening emergencies.

Tony Stark may not install experimental systems into load-bearing walls without approval.

Workshop explosions are not to be classified as “ambience.”

The kitchen belongs to Kendis.

Tony stared.

Kendis smiled sweetly. “I like her.”

Tony, infuriated at all of his plans being thwarted by the ancient spirit of the land that had taken possession of his house, pointed accusingly at the ceiling. “This is collusion.”

The lights flickered once.

JARVIS said, “I find the terms reasonable, sir.”

“You would.”

“Indeed.”

Kendis hopped off the workbench and kissed Tony’s cheek. “Congratulations, love. You got outvoted by a house and your own A.I.”

Tony turned his head and caught her mouth in a quick kiss instead. “Worth it.”

At the end of the eighth week, they hosted a small dinner.

Small, according to Tony.

It included the Weasleys, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Ian, Jason, Hortense, Isiah, Lana, Kimberly, Wei Ying, Lan Zhan, Emerson, who gave him weird vibes, Cristopher, Jude, Jarod, Miss Parker, Dean, Seamus, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Alke under the table, and at least two bots rolling around with the smug confidence of mechanical toddlers.

Molly inspected the kitchen again and declared it “acceptable,” which made Kendis so proud she had to pretend she wasn’t.

Arthur spent twenty minutes talking to DUM-E.

Rhodey stood in the foyer, looking up at the lights, the staircase, the art, the warm wood, the strange, impossible sense of welcome, and shook his head.

“You two really built a magic mansion in eight weeks.”

Tony handed him a drink. “Technically, six weeks of build, two weeks of integration.”

“That does not make it less insane.”

“No,” Kendis said, walking past with a tray of food. “But it does make it accurate.”

Tony watched her go with open adoration, and also she was killing him with those tight jeans. It should be a crime to have an ass look that good.

Rhodey caught it and softened. “You happy?”

Tony reluctantly peeled his attention from Kendis’s ass, his gaze traveling around to take in the house, the people, Alke sprawled in the middle of the floor like a queen, the lights warming every time Kendis entered a room, and the faint sound of Kendis’s laughter.

At the impossible, excessive, ridiculous house that was somehow already home.

“Yeah,” Tony said quietly. “I am.”

The house flickered once, warm and pleased.

The Concord House had been right, though Kendis would deny admitting it for years. They would need every inch of space because Tony knew before The Concord House had even spoken a word that this house wasn’t just for the two of them. It was the start of something new, and instead of being terrified of the next chapter in this life, he would embrace it with wild abandon.

Tony knew with deep-down certainty that there was nothing he and Kendis couldn’t face if they faced it together.