Chapter 1
Natasha wasn't one to talk about her past, partially because there were things that she'd done, or that had been done to her, that she didn't want to talk about. The other part, was because she didn't remember. There were a couple of reasons for her lack of memory; or so she assumed. One, was that there were some things that the brain forgot, whether you wanted it to or not, the other though, was because the memories had been removed. It was no secret that the ones who'd trained her in Russia had been less than kind, but now, as Natasha read through her own history, her own list of secrets that she'd released to the world, she couldn't help but feel a slow burn of fury sliding through her veins like fire. She stared at the photo she'd found of a beaming, average sized family. There were two attractive parents, a beautiful red-headed woman with bright green eyes holding a small child who could only be a year at most. Beside her, an arm wrapped around her waist was the father of the children, a man with strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, and an equally wide smile as his wife. The other two children were older; probably four and six. The four year old stood in front of her father, his hand on her shoulder, bright smile on her face with bright green eyes that matched her mother. She was a beautiful, smaller duplicate of her mother, and Natasha allowed herself a small smile in response to the one beaming out at her from the photograph. The older of the two stood in front of her mother, with dark brown hair, and blue eyes. Despite the visual appear of the rest of the family, the dark haired girl had sharp, almost austere features, and despite the grins of her family around her, that girls smile was tight, as if she resented those around her.
“The moment we saw everything was out I had Skye go through our records – she hid the most important things – like this. Wiped it from the databases. Except for our copy, of course.” Natasha looked up at her former handler, now director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and nodded. She still wasn't happy with him; hiding his status that he was alive; but she understood and that's why she didn't hate him. Clint on the other hand, while he still understood, was far more upset than a simple apology could fix. Not that Natasha had forgiven him, just stopped being furious.
“She's good.” Phil Coulson smiled, and she recognized the pride in that smile as something similar to what a father would have for their child.
“Yes, she is.” he looked down at the photo then as well, frown now marring his features. “The baby, that would be you. Born Mallory Evans, you were kidnapped from the hospital shortly after this photo was taken. You were there for a routine check up. The doctor who'd pretended to be the replacement for the doctor who should have been on call, stole you, leaving no trace. Of course, we know now who he worked for, but then, we had nothing.” Natasha nodded, not wanting to dredge up those details.
“Are any of them still alive?” she asked, voice carefully neutral, but a part of her couldn't help but ache for the possibility of a family.
“Your biological parents both died of old age. Your oldest sister, Petunia, is alive and lives at number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey with her husband, Vernon Dursley, their son, Dudley Dursley, and your mutual nephew, Harry Potter.” at the mention of a nephew, Natasha's gaze flew up to meet Phil's, draws pulling together.
“Why is our nephew living with her?” she asked, and Phil sighed.
“It would seem the younger of your two older sisters, Lily, and her husband James, both died on October 31, the year their son was born. Official reports say it was from a car crash.” he broke off and Natasha lifted a brow.
“And the unofficial reports?” Phil could only shake his head.
“That's part of the problem. We honestly have no idea. All we know is that they died, and since Mallory Evans was declared dead after 5 years of searching with no luck, Petunia Dursley was the only living relative who could claim custody of Harry.” Natasha nodded, eyes returning to the photo again. Despite the fact that the only living relative in the photo was the girl with the jealous smile, she still wanted to meet her, as well as her two nephews. They were the only ones that were hers by blood, and she'd be damned if she'd pass up the opportunity to at least meet them.
“We're sure Privet Drive is their current address?” she asked, and Phil nodded.
“Yes. We're sure.” he paused, watching her. “Do you want me to call Barton?” though part of her wanted just that, to have her partner as back up, she shook her head and Phil nodded, turning away and moving back towards his desk before settling behind it to flip through some files. He looked up and smiled at her as she stood. “Enjoy your flight. Keep me posted.” it was such a mundane phrase that Natasha couldn't help but smile. She moved around the desk, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you.” she murmured, and behind the two words, were his forgiveness. He gave a nod, and a relieved smile, and with that, she left.
It took her only a day to arrive in London and book a hotel room. She booked it for a week, having no idea how long she'd be staying. It's not as if she could go on any assignments with S.H.I.E.L.D. being down. Once the room was settled, she rented a car, having decided to drive to Little Whinging. She'd considered calling in advance, but really, she wasn't sure if she'd meet them today or just canvas the area. It was a Saturday after all and she had no real way of knowing if these people she wanted to meet were even home. That's how she found herself driving through Little Whinging and down Privet Drive. She saw a car in the driveway at number 4 and before she could stop herself she pulled into the drive, parking the silver sedan she'd rented. She could feel the eyes of of the neighbours on her the moment she stepped out of the car and it made her skin crawl. She hated suburbs. Even so, she gave a cursory glance around; counting the neighbours who were watching, noting that despite their sharp eyes, all of them were nosy rather than professional. She made her way up the walk, knowing even from her quick inventory of the neighbourhood that her jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket were probably not appreciated. She reached the door and knocked immediately, the stares of the neighbours already proving far too irritating to allow to linger, and was therefore not surprised when the door opened almost immediately. Despite how often she'd stared at the photograph on her way to England, Natasha still hadn't been prepared to come face to face with one of its occupants. In front of her, Petunia was tall, slim, and severe, with features that had aged to look more horse-like than in the childhood photo. She had black hair in tight curls on the top of her head, and though obviously aided a bit with product, Natasha could tell the woman had hair that curled much as her own did. She was momentarily glad she'd allowed the curls to remain instead of straightening it as she'd been prone to do lately. That positive feeling however quickly faded when Petunia finally spoke. Natasha knew the woman had recognized her, had seen the horror, surprise, jealousy, and finally disbelieving suspicion. This family reunion obviously wasn't going to be as pleasant as Natasha had hoped, but she pushed the thought aside.
“Who are you?” the words were sharp but spoken softly, as if afraid of being overheard. Natasha suspected that was probably the truth.
“My name is Natasha Romanov, but I was born Mallory Evans.” Petunia stared at her for a moment before finally stepping back, hideous green floral print dress swishing around her calves.
“You'd best come in.” she stepped past her biological sister and into the front hall, eyes doing a cursory once over. She could see the kitchen up ahead, a sitting room to the left, and a set of stairs leading to the second story on her immediate right. Under the stairs was an average cupboard, the only strange thing about it being the small scuff mark right by the corner of the door, which struck her as strange since all the coats were hung up on hooks beside the door. She pushed it aside however in favour of looking around the rest of the house. As she followed Petunia towards the kitchen, she heard the sound of a TV playing, and found the man who must have been her sister's husband, Vernon Dursley, sitting in an armchair in front of the television in the small living room space next to the dining room table, across the from kitchen. Even as they stepped into the kitchen, she saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, and as she was ushered into the living room and into a seat next to where Mr. Dursley sat, Natasha heard the soft sound of a door opening and closing. She hid a frown since most of the doorways seemed to have no doors, but she supposed she could have heard a door from upstairs. She could feel both sets of eyes on her, and so she decided to introduce herself to the husband this time.
“Hello, my name is Natasha Romanov, you must be Mr. Dursley. It's a pleasure.” she said, keeping it friendly, and the man nodded, eyes narrowing shrewdly as he looked up at his wife who hovered behind his chair. When he didn't make any move to answer, she continued. “I recently found out that I was born Mallory Evans.” and at that, both sets of eyes snapped back to her.
“Do you have any proof?” it was Mr. Dursley who asked, and though Natasha found him repellant; from his round, sausage body, to his walrus moustache and his beady eyes, she reached into her pocket for the photo.
“You probably saw on the news that in America, the government agency formerly known as S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed, releasing all of their secrets out into the world in order to attack the group originally founded during the second world war known as Hydra.” both husband and wife nodded, though they looked much more skeptical. “I was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. so when the agency went under, and all it's secrets were posted online, mine were as well.” she paused, wondering how much information she should divulge considering they would be able to find most of it themselves if they so much as logged onto the internet, but she gave an internal shrug, moving on. “A friend of mine managed to find certain details about my childhood that even I hadn't known before, and also, luckily, managed to hide them before anyone else could see them.” she hoped her tone let them know just how dangerous those other parties could be. “I won't lie to you.” she said abruptly, fingers toying with the edges of the photograph. “I was part of the team that posted all the secrets online, and there were a lot of secrets that I had a hand in.” she shook the thought away, finally offering the photograph to Petunia, only lifting a brow when Vernon reached for it, immediately pulling his hand back sharply and allowing his wife to take the photo. While Petunia stared at the photo, Natasha stared at her, noting every slight change in expression, including both the sadness and resentment. Finally, Petunia handed the photo back.
“You look just like our mother.” Petunia said, and it was an obvious concession. "And Lily." The name was said hesitantly. "Your face is sharper than hers was, like fathers – but otherwise, you look just like her.” Natasha heard the slightest tremor in her voice, proof that the sadness was for her lost parents – but that didn't quite explain the resentment – unless it was something as simple as jealousy over physical beauty. Natasha was very aware that she herself was beautiful, and the same could not be said about her sister.
“Thank you.” she replied, despite the thoughts swirling around in her thoughts.
“I have some photographs.” Petunia said next, and though her gaze darted to her husband, she seemed resolute in offering them.
“I would very much like to see them.” Petunia hesitated once more, hands all but wringing together as she glanced once more at her husband before nodding and hurrying away, the hideous dress swirling around her calves again.
“She was an odd one, that Lily.” Vernon said, as soon as his wife was out of earshot, his beady eyes fixed on her face. “Her and that good for nothing husband of hers.” there was a soft sound from down the hall, too close to have been Petunia, but there wasn't anybody else in the house that she'd seen.
“Are Dudley and Harry here?” Natasha asked, and though Vernon looked surprised, he still managed a sharp,
“No.” lie. Natasha was an expert at lies, and she knew when she saw one. With a quick glance around, she saw the photos of a round boy, clearly the son of the man sitting across from her, and yet none of another boy, none that could be their shared nephew. She kept the knowledge to herself, however, turning instead as she heard Petunia returning, appearing with two dusty albums in her arms.
“These are the only two family albums that were left of our parents.” Petunia admitted, and again there was that mix of sadness and resentment. “The rest were lost in a fire.” Natasha didn't pursue the subject, happy to just flip through the albums that existed since they were more than she ever thought she'd get. At Natasha's request, Petunia finally sat down beside her, going through the photos with her, since as Natasha had pointed out, they would be meaningless without the background only Petunia could provide. Though it felt like they spent hours pouring over photos, and Natasha felt a nostalgia for the family she could have had, they were all too rudely interrupted by the door banging open.
“Mum!” the voice was rude and demanding and Petunia all but leapt to her feet, rushing towards the front door.
“Dudley! You're back early? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Let me get you something to eat.” Petunia's voice all but crooned, and Natasha couldn't help but be surprised by the sudden difference in the other woman's personality.
“I don't want food, mum. I want Harry to come out and play.” the words were said with a sneer, but they had Natasha's attention. Harry had been here all along? She knew both boys were supposed to be 6, and yet what 6 year old boy could remain silent for all this time? She got to her feet, and when Vernon stood to try and stop her, she let her gaze go icy.
“I'd like to meet my nephews.” she said sweetly, but her eyes, she knew, were cold. Even as she spoke, she heard the same familiar door sound that she'd heard earlier, opening and closing before she could so much as get past Mr. Dursley. Despite the obvious terror her glare had instilled, the man still managed to look smug that she hadn't been able to witness whatever he'd wanted to hide. Natasha was beginning to suspect it was their shared nephew.
“I can't come play, Dudley. Our aunt is here. Aunt Petunia's sister.” the words caught Natasha off guard. Though she'd just referred to the two boys as her nephews to the man she supposed was her brother-in-law, that didn't change the shock she felt at hearing herself be referred to as aunt. It implied a tie she hadn't even really realized she'd had.
“Aunt? The only sister mummy had is dead.” the boy sneered, and the complete disrespect had Natasha swinging around the corner.
“Last time I checked I was very alive. But you're welcome to judge for yourself.” she smirked at the shock on the rounder boy's face, but she didn't miss how Petunia's face went ghastly pale, eyes darting to the smaller boy and in turn drawing Natasha's gaze. The boy had round glasses propped on his face and black shaggy hair that hung nearly in front of his glasses. Despite how the boy pushed it back in order to see her, it didn't seem tameable, immediately moving back in the way.
“Who are you?” the rounder boy, Dudley finally demanded, cheeks going pink with rage at having been embarrassed, ignoring the mother's attempts to calm him.
“Natasha Romanov. I'm your mother's youngest sister.” she replied with a smirk, but her eyes were unable to help but be drawn back to the slighter boy. The longer she looked, the angrier she got. He was so skinny she could practicality see his bones through his pale, almost sickly skin, and the clothes on his frame were at least 3 sizes too big, if not more. He seemed to be swimming in the clothing, the cuffs of the trousers rolled up, the t-shirt sleeves hanging down to his elbows. “You're Harry.” she stated, and the small boy just glanced at his other aunt before finally giving a nod. “And you heard who I am?” again there was another nod, but then he finally spoke.
“You're my mum's sister.” Natasha didn't miss how Harry referred to her in relation to his mother, despite the fact that she knew Harry's parents died when he was only a baby. She nodded, and once again her eyes fell on the only door within sight inside the house, the one that lead to the cupboard under the stairs.
“Were you hiding under there?” though Petunia had managed to keep her son quiet until then, he finally didn't seem to be able to help himself.
“No. That's where the freak sleeps.” Petunia went absolutely still, eyes widening in horror as she glanced over at Natasha, but Natasha was looking at Harry, who hadn't even flinched, just look resigned.
“Freak, huh? You know, the person I trust most in the world is considered a freak, and because of it he's one of the most talented people I know.” all eyes were on her now, and she gave a dangerous smile. “In fact, he's one of the top assassins in the world.” even Dudley went pale at that, and her smile became sharp before she turned back to Harry, softening.
“Why do you sleep under the stairs?” she asked, and Harry shrugged, though he looked worried, glancing at his aunt, and moments later his uncle who'd appeared in the hallway behind her. It was almost as if they wanted to box her in, and the thought was amusing enough to ignore.
“I don't know.” he said, though from the way he glanced at his cousin, Natasha assumed it was probably because of the insult, and it made her blood boil. She looked at her sister then, who'd drawn herself up to height, but despite her stern expression, looked frightened. Natasha supposed thats what happened when you said your best friend was an assassin, and she hid a smirk at the fact that they were lucky she hadn't mentioned she was as well. She lifted a brow at her sister, but the other woman actually managed to stand firm, chin jutting forward.
“You have no idea what it's like. Living with someone of his kind.” Natasha had the sudden urge to slap the woman across the face, but she held back, tucking her hands in her pockets.
“What exactly do you mean by that?” Natasha asked coolly, and this time it was the husband that answered.
“He's a freak, that's what he is. Just like his mother and father.” Natasha gave a sharp laugh, shaking her head in disgust.
“He's a child.” she snapped, before turning her back on him. He wasn't worth her attention so instead she looked at her sister. “Look at him.” she ordered, and watched Petunia's gaze waver towards Harry and then away. “Look.” Petunia's gaze snapped to Harry's face, and she continued. “He's a 6 year old boy who only ever needed your love and affection and instead you put him in a cupboard. You disgust me.” Petunia's head snapped around as if she'd actually been slapped and Natasha watched her imperiously. “I'll take him back to America with me.” she said it before she realized what it meant, but the absolute shock and hope that filled the bright green eyes made it worth it.
“You can't just take him.” Vernon stuttered behind her angrily, and she gave him a deadly glare.
“You really think you could stop me?” she knew her words were threatening, knew her body language was too, but she couldn't help herself. This boy was supposed to be their family.
“You think you can take care of him properly?” Petunia asked, and there was both contempt and – was that hope in her voice? She nodded, and all eyes turned to Harry. On instinct, Natasha crouched down in front of him, so that she looked up at him. His green eyes stared right into her own blue eyes as he waited, obviously anxious.
“Would you like to come with me?”
“Leave London?” he asked softly, and she nodded.
“I live in New York. But we could visit London if you wanted.” his eyes widened, and it told her just how little this child had been allowed.
“Would I live with you?”
“If you wanted to, yes.” he seemed to pause, thinking, and Natasha watched the thoughts whiz behind the scratched glasses.
“I can cook, and clean. I won't be a burden. I don't need much of anything at all, just a bed would be nice, but even just a mattress would do!” it was the most he'd said since she'd arrived, and it broke her heart.
“Harry, I won't make you work. You don't have to cook or clean, just take care of yourself. And you'll have your own bedroom.” she added, shooting a glare at her sister and her husband. Harry's eyes were impossibly wide, but then he seemed to deflate, looking back towards his aunt and uncle.
“It would make coming back hard.” he said finally, and Natasha stood then, running a hand of her own through his mess of hair.
“You wouldn't have to come back.”