Black Widow

THEY SAY GRIEF IS ROUGH.

But, they eventually say it will get better. Sure, there will be days that will be harder than others, but that’s just how life is; there will always be hardships and problems. However, life also has its moments that make up for those hardships. Look back at your memories, and cherish those as those are the key to getting through grief. 

But… none of that was working for Natasha. She was angry! Her friend didn’t deserve to die, and even though her killer was dead, it… 

It wasn’t enough. 

She wanted everyone who contributed to Hermione’s death dead — head on a pole for everyone to see. She couldn’t sleep, eat, or concentrate. Death and revenge were the only things on her mind. Was she concerned for her mental being? Yes. But was she going to give up on her revenge fantasies? No. She wouldn’t feel peace until everyone was dead. 

Sirius and Remus walked around her on eggshells, trying to give her support while also not enabling her revenge fantasies. Clint was just a shoulder to lean on, neither enabling nor discouraging her homicidal urges. Her sister encouraged her to do whatever she wanted and offered her support for whatever she decided to do. 

And Tom? 

Tom was almost non-existent in her life, running on and off to do whatever was needed of him. Natasha found it ironic. The man who complained so much about Dumbledore ended up being his lap dog, doing whatever he was ordered to. Still, when she did see her friend, she could see how exhausted he was. Even if he tried to offer her support with his limited understanding of emotions, Natasha knew that would drain the man. He’d probably look at her, and shrug, “Kill as much as you’d like,” give her a little pat on the shoulder, and go off to do whatever his next task was. 

With the summer coming to a close, Natasha knew she had to decide what she wanted to do. She knew If she went back to Hogwarts, security would be doubled — someone always keeping an eye on her. However, if she went on her revenge fantasy, she’d have to be even more alert — even more than she is now. 

She licked her lips in complementation, dragging her knees up to her chest. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, body odor wafting into her nose. God, when was the last time she took a shower or changed her clothes? Oh, god… when was the last time she changed her underwear? 

Resisting the urge to gag, the girl closed her eyes, taking in a deep, calming breath. Whatever she chose to do, it’d change the course of her life. Did she seriously want more red in her ledger? Did it really count if they deserved it? 

Suddenly, her door creaked open slowly. Opening her eyes, she met the tired eyes of Tom. “Hey,” she greeted, gripping her comforter between her fingers. 

The man smirked, walking into her room, “God, when was the last time you picked up your trash?” Walking over to her curtains, the man pulled them open. Natasha winced, eyes adjusting to the brightness peeking through her curtains. “Merlin, you’re paler than a vampire.” 

Rolling her eyes, the girl opened her mouth, “What are you here for?” His mouth opened, like he was going to say something, then stopped. Raising a brow, the girl waited for the man to continue. 

“Do you know it’s your birthday?” The man blurted out, lips pursed together. Eyebrows furrowing together, Natasha leaned over to look at her nightstand. 

July 31st, 6:37 am

God, had she really lost that much track of time? Sure, she knew it was July, but… Running a hand through her messy curls, the girl locked eyes with Tom, “Okay, and? Is there any reason you’re in my room at 6:37 am? Or just felt like it.” 

Scoffing, the man placed his hands on his hands, “Okay, smart-ass,” he retorted, lips forming into a sneer, “I wanted to talk to you. Come on, get dressed… and maybe take a shower.” With that, the man turned his heel, walking out of her room. 

Rolling her eyes, the girl threw herself off her bed. She wondered what he wanted to tell her. 

With her growing hair thrown up into a messy bun, and clothes that were half-haphazardly thrown on, the girl made her way to Tom, who was sitting in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of tea. “Okay?” She questioned, a sigh making a way out of her mouth, “Where is it you wanted to take me?” 

He smirked, setting his cup on the counter. Holding out his hand, he gestured for her to grip his hand. Rolling her eyes, the redhead grabbed his hand, nails piercing the man’s skin. He sucked in a breath, pain flashing through his eyes. Giving her a look, the girl loosened her grip. “You’ll know it when you see it,” Was his response. 

“It better not be what I think it is.” The girl grumbled, lips pursing together in displeasure as she thought about it. Tom snickered, shaking his head to discard that assumption. “It’s not, I promise.” He replied. Before she knew it, the two of them were sucked together in a hole – insides feeling like they were being flipped around, and thrown out simultaneously. 

Finally, the two landed at their destination. She grunted in surprise as she tripped over a rock she managed to land on. “Motherfuc–” However, her bad mood quickly went away as she saw where they were. She took in the sight before her, the air being sucked out of her lungs. 

She was home. 

She was in Ohio. 

Whipping her head around to Tom, her lips parted in surprise. “Happy Birthday, Nat…” He smiled, looking proud of himself. Tears rose in her eyes as she made her way to the house. It was covered in police tape, the grass was overgrown, and the windows were broken. On her old front door was spray-painted, “terrorists!” Similar insults were around her house as well. Pushing open the door, it creaked with age and wear.

The moon shone through the broken and boarded windows. Dust covered every service, furniture was flipped around, and glass was on the floors. Memories of her old life flooded her mind, a bittersweet nostalgia filling her body. Her fingers trailed along the bookshelves, picking up old family photos. “How long has it been like this?” She asked, fingers tracing the jawline of her father, eyes trailing over the smile lines of her mother.

“It’s been like this since you left. They tried selling it, but no one wanted to live in the house of…” He trailed off, stopping himself from finishing the sentence. 

She scoffed, shaking her head in amusement, “Terrorists, Tom. You can say it – we were terrorists, spies, monsters; whatever you want to call it.” She retorted, lips pursed together in displeasure. 

He sighed, the floor creaking as he made his way across the room. Finally, he stopped, coming to stand in front of her. “You and your sister were just kids… At the end of the day, it wasn’t anyone’s fault but Dreyko’s.” He explained hand placed gently on her shoulder. “Your family… it was never meant to last forever.”

“I know,” She sighed, the bags underneath her eyes more pronounced, “Nothing lasts forever… Especially my family.” Tucking a stray piece of her hair behind her ear, the redhead spun on her heel, heading further into the house. The stairs creaked with age, and some of the wood fell through, creating foot-sized holes. She could hear Tom following behind her – an uncomfortable silence in the air. She could tell he wanted to say something, but couldn’t seem to find the words. 

It was like she was moving on auto-pilot – feet moving her toward a certain direction. She stopped, hand placed delicately across a door knob. Taking a deep breath, she twisted the knob, pushing the door open gently. Her heart ached as she took in the sight before her. Posters of her favorite TV shows and bands lined the wall, ugly wallpaper peeking out from beneath the posters. In the corner of her room stood her loft, with a desk built in. Her baby-blue comforter was scrunched up in the corner of her bed, stained with unknown things. 

A bean bag sat in the other corner of her room – a sketchbook and pencil were thrown on it. A few of her old toys were scattered across the room – never making it back into her toy chest. A few family pictures were on her dresser, which was littered with random items. She walked over to her dresser, picking up one of the old nick-nacks she had. 

An old McDonald's toy rolled around in her hand, dust rolling around in her palm. She avoided looking up, knowing she wouldn’t like what she saw. Tom came up behind her, picking up a picture of her family, “I remember this day,” He said casually, trying to start up a conversation. Once he realized Natasha hadn’t taken the bait, he continued, “It was your school’s Christmas concert, and you had convinced Alexei to buy you this expensive dress.” He chuckled, a fond look behind his usually cold, and unstable eyes, “However, Yelena was jealous that he didn’t buy her one as well, so in retaliation, she dumped her milkshake she was drinking onto your dress – minutes before you had to leave.”

“Yeah,” She softly stated, walking over to her closet, “It was still the first year pretending we were a family, so she was still pretty young.” She opened the sliding doors, searching for a certain dress. Once she found it, the girl picked it off the rack, holding it up for Tom to see, “We didn’t have time to buy me a new dress, so Melina tried to get the stains out as best she could. Still, I performed with a chocolate-milkshake stain on my dress.”

She observed the white dress, flipping it over. Her lips quirked up in amusement as her eyes caught the flash of the stain. “She never managed to get it all the way out – even with all of her knowledge of getting blood out of clothing.” She joked, electing a smile out of Tom. Sighing, she placed the dress back into the closet, smoothing it out. She had put it off for far too long. 

Turning around, she observed the man for a few moments, “While this has been a lovely path down memory lane, I doubt you brought me here to just reminisce. What did you want to tell me?”

“...Dumbledore wants me to pretend to be a student at Hogwarts.” 

Raising an eyebrow, the girl hummed in consideration, “He wants you to be a student?” She repeated, curiosity in her voice, “Why not have you be a teacher?”

“He thinks I look too young,” Tom replied. 

Natasha scoffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance, “Everyone looks too young to him. He’s like, 100-and-80 years old. Obviously, you’re gonna look young to him!” She retorted, hands placed on her hips sassily. Tom pursed his lips, giving the girl a look, “Okay, okay!” She held her hands up in surrender, gesturing for the man to continue. 

Taking in a deep breath, Tom continued with what he was saying, “He wants me to keep a lookout for any future death eaters. He thinks if it’s someone who thinks like them, then I’d be able to point them out sooner and point into the ‘right’ direction.” He sneered in annoyance as his fingers made air quotes, “I don’t know what the old man thinks it will do – you’ve already convinced most of the ‘Slytherins’ as he says.”

“He does realize there are death eaters in other houses, right?” Natasha questioned, already knowing the answer. Tom shook his head, and Natasha let out a sigh of exasperation. “So, was that all you wanted to tell me? Because I feel like there’s something else.”

Licking his dry lips, Tom nodded, “I had an idea.”

Tilting her head to the side, the girl questioned, “What kind of idea?” Rocking back and forth on his heels, Tom clasped his hands behind his back, taking in a deep breath. 

“I know you want to get revenge for what happened to Hermione, so…” It was at that moment that he pulled out a necklace – a dainty necklace, with runes carved into the metal. From the light peeking into the room, the gems placed in the runes shimmered. Natasha’s lips parted in awe, fingers grasping the piece of jewelry, “I had this custom-made during one of my missions.”

Forcing her gaze away from the necklace, she locked her eyes with Tom’s. “What is it? I don’t… I don’t recognize these runes.” She asked, bringing it closer to her eyes. 

“It’s supposed to allow you to have a physical form when astral protecting.” He explained, gaining his ‘teacher’ voice as Natasha called it. “No one would notice a difference. You’d be able to be in a completely different area and you’d still be able to be at Hogwarts, or wherever. I, personally, carved that rune.” He reached a hand out, finger pointing at a certain rune, “One of my own creations… When you sleep, no matter the time zone, this rune will allow you to interact with whoever. It’d still work, even if you were in the same time zone… Just, don’t try to do it often, okay? You could potentially mess up the universe.”

Her eyes were wide, mind running with this information. She held all this power in her hand – just so she could get revenge for her friend. Did she really need to do this? What would happen to the universe if she messed it up somehow? Would it continue on as normal, or would it fall apart? Still, this avid, ravenous urge for revenge consumed her being. Every thought and every action is fueled by the same, mutual factor; revenge. 

Grasping the necklace in her hold, Natasha’s breath stuttered to a halt as she came to a conclusion. Getting her revenge, would be the only thing to make her feel better – to give herself peace of mind. Tom seemed to realize her decision. Letting out a sigh, the Horcrux spoke, “While I’m not going to stop you… You do realize you don’t own Hermione anything? If anything, you’ve already beaten her killer to death. What does everyone else have to do with it?” 

She stopped her mind blanking. She had to admit, Tom did have a reason, but… “I don’t sleep, I don’t eat, I’m… I can’t just walk away from this. All I think about is, who is it gonna be next? Daphne? Blaise? Sirius? Remus? Clint? … Or Yelena?” Her voice cracked at the last one, her bottom lip trembling. “Or what if it was you? I spent months in agony, wondering where my first friend went. Wondering if you were dead… Losing that connection with you, was like losing a part of myself. I-I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I lost any more people that I cared about…I’d probably go mad.” She chuckled, wiping the tears off her face. 

“So,” she sniffed, looking up from the ground, a determined look in her eyes, “I’m gonna find them… and I’m gonna kill every last one of them.”