The response to this story continues to be amazing. Thank you to everyone that is reading, favouriting, following and reviewing. I had hoped to get this chapter posted mid week but we're in the middle of a massive four week inspection at work at the moment, so all I seem to want to do in the evenings - when I get home that is - is crash out. That is also my excuse for not responding to the lovely people that have reviewed - I promise to get to you all this weekend.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this... as always, I don't have any claim on Marvel or JK Rowling's characters, and do this solely for my personal satisfaction and your enjoyment.

Merrick x

The back bar of the Abbey House Pub was comfortable, old fashioned and a little shabby around the edges, oak beams across the ceiling were studded with brightly polished horse brasses, matching the warming pan which hung on the wall. Natasha looked around at the faded curtains, Victorian prints and big old fashioned fireplace with distinct approval. "I like this... it's very - authentic."

The pub was quiet that evening, so they managed to claim the big overstuffed sofa nearest the fire without trouble. They were settled in for the evening, happily sated with the Inn's excellent catering when Natasha's phone pinged. Sighing, she put down her glass of red wine and dug it out of her pocket. Harry tried to resist the urge to peer over her shoulder as she read, focusing instead on watching the flames flickering among the logs in the fireplace. It had been a long day, following on from an even longer day and he was exhausted, physically and mentally. His reverie was interrupted by Natasha nudging him, as she proffered her phone.

"We have an ID on our two observers." The first picture showed a man a little younger than Harry with a broad, strongly boned face and short sandy hair, the kind commonly described as ginger, but quickly blonde in the sun. He didn't look dangerous Harry thought, although the remote look in his eyes was curiously chilling. The eyes were striking in themselves, being so pale, they were almost colourless. There was something strangely shark like about them. "The irate driver who's car you sabotaged today is Pat Donnelly a third generation Irish American from New Jersey. 29 years old, six feet three inches, approximately 220 pounds. Father unknown, mother died of a drugs overdose when he was two and a half, sending him into the system. Records show that he never stayed anywhere longer than a few months, often much less. Everywhere he went there were complaints of aggression, sometimes violence. He came to the notice of the law at eight with petty theft, graduated to knife crime by the time he was fifteen, and celebrated his coming of age by carjacking a couple for their brand new Jaguar using a stolen 9mm semi-automatic. The husband, who was 62 years old suffered six carefully positioned non-fatal gunshot injuries before his heart finally gave out. We believe that at that point Donnelly got bored and shot him in the head. It was the opinion of the Medical Examiner that his wife was alive for at least an hour after her husband finally expired. The reports show that her adrenaline levels were more than three times the normal resting level when he shot her."

Harry pulled a face, easily imagining how horrific that hour would have been. "Nasty"

"He didn't stop there. The body count continued to rise until he was 24 when he suddenly dropped off the radar. It appears that this was the point when HYDRA decided to make better use of his talents. He's been a low level thug and enforcer for them ever since."

"I'm insulted. I thought you and I between us merited better than some knuckle dragging thug. Is he the best they can offer?"

"Well at the moment we're only under observation remember. But the one you need to watch is the woman." Harry raised an eyebrow, looking at the conventionally pretty face, violet eyes and thick blonde hair worn in a pony tail. Natasha saw his expression and rolled her eyes. "Don't be deceived by the sweet, innocent looks, she's the brains of the operation, the one pulling Donnelly's strings. She's 25, five feet five, just a little under 120 pounds. Born Imogen Charlotte Mason, to a French mother, and an English father. He made an absolute fortune in construction in the eighties, so Imogen went to an expensive London girls school, followed by a double first in French and Russian at Oxford. Cold blooded, brilliant and utterly ruthless, she made some very dubious life choices in her early twenties, and ended up the mistress of one of HYDRA's key henchmen. When he got drunk and lost his temper with her one night she tied him to a chair and castrated him with a small serrated vegetable knife. Apparently it wasn't very sharp so the process wouldn't have been quick from the number of people that reported hearing screams in the surrounding area. By the time the cops arrived he was dead. It appears that she made herself a martini while she watched him bleed to death because when they got there the body was still warm and the glass was ice cold."

By now Harry was looking rather green and had put his pint down… "You're right. I'll take Donnelly thank you".

"They're an unpleasant pair. I've run up against Mason before – twice."

"What happened?"

"The first time – she nearly killed me" she shrugged ruefully "what can I say, it was a bad day... the second time we were interrupted by something bigger and nastier…. let's just say that we have unfinished business. If it comes to it, she's mine, just remember that"

Harry sighed. "So the answer to my question is yes. They're definitely onto us. But don't worry. We'll sort that our tomorrow."

She looked at him, eyes narrowed. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Harry smiled and stood up. "Abracadabra of course. Come on – Mrs Potter. We have an early start and a first class breakfast in the morning. Bedtime."

ooo0ooo

In a grubby back street in Washington Heights New York, sandwiched between a tattoo shop and a corner shop that hadn't been open for at least ten years was a dingy black door. Anyone that wasn't put off by the dubious neighbourhood, the litter strewn step and the peeling paintwork, would have viewed the almost illegible card tucked next to the doorbell, "Smith's Import - Export" and taken their business elsewhere. Even if they had decided to persist, they would have pressed the bell in vain. It wasn't actually connected to anything.

In the sleek, well equipped office above, Sean Johnson, fresh from his morning run, thick iron grey hair still damp from the shower, leaned back in his chair, double espresso in hand, browsing through the emails that had come in over night. He was just about to start composing a particular acerbic response when the secure landline on his desk rang, making him start and almost spill his coffee.

"Johnson"

The woman's voice, and smooth English accent were unmistakeable. "Good evening Commander"

"Mason. I trust this is a matter of extreme urgency?"

"Indeed Commander. I believe we may have a problem"

Johnson sighed. "Explain"

"We picked up SHIELD's trail this evening. Romanova was there, as we suspected, and a man that is not known to us."

The Commander frowned. "Are you sure? We know all of SHIELD's principal agents - I can't imagine that they would send her with a rookie"

"Whoever he is Sir, he's no rookie. I'm sending a picture now." An email pinged on Johnson's tablet. "No, the problem came when they left St Asaph. We... ah... had some car trouble."

"Really Mason... you call me for car trouble? Don't they have mechanics in England?"

"Wales Sir. We're in Wales, not England. And yes, they have mechanics. We've had a highly recommended one looking at the engine since six thirty this evening, and he's baffled. The car was in perfect working order and now it's a brick."

Johnson tapped his pen irritably against his desk. "A brick?"

"Yes Sir. A fused lump of solid, immovable metal. Everything that should be moving isn't. It's impossible."

"There has to be a logical explanation Mason. How long did you leave the car for?"

"That's the thing Sir - we didn't. We were seated in the car when it happened."

"A mutant maybe? Isn't Lensherr a Brit?"

"Not by birth Sir no, although you'd never know to speak to him. But I don't know whether even he could have done this. The bodywork and electrics were perfect, it was just the engine."

"OK Mason, leave this with me. Continue to observe and I'll be in touch."

When the call was terminated, Johnson pondered for a few minutes, drinking his cooling coffee. Finally he sighed and picked up his secure line again.

"Hello... Yes... This is Johnson. Get me Araposa... Yes of course I know what time it is in London... Alright - enough - I don't have time for this. Get a message to her. I need her to review the email I'm about to send her, then call me. Whatever time... unlike her I don't keep office hours."

Hitting the send button Johnson abandoned his emails and logged into a highly secure file...

Codename Emrys.

ooo0ooo

The following morning, refreshed by a good night's sleep and a breakfast that was, Natasha admitted reluctantly, even better than Harry had promised, they left the pub, heading back to Llanelwy. Halfway up the pass Harry drew the car into a secluded spot. Natasha eyed him from the passenger seat with the deepest suspicion.

"Are we stopping to admire the view?"

"Nope, we're stopping to change it. Can you get out of the car please, it makes this easier? Now hold still..." Producing his wand, Harry walked around her for several minutes, muttering under his breath. Natasha was unaware of any effect beyond a mild tingling sensation until the world around her moved in an unexpected way.

Turning she stared at Harry, eyes wide. "Did you just make me taller?"

He nodded absently, like a painter with a portrait, finally stepping back with a nod. "You'll do" He gestured towards the car window. "What do you think?"

She had seen some pretty weird stuff over the last few years thought Natasha, but nothing stranger than looking at her shadowy reflection in the car window, and seeing a complete stranger looking back at her. She was taller by about three inches, older – maybe early forties. Her body was still fit, but thinner, more boyish than her usual curves. Light brown hair streaked with blonde hung straight to her jaw, framing her face which was longer thinner, with high cheekbones and dark brown eyes. Not even facial recognition would identify her as the Black Widow. Fascinated, she looked up to realise that Harry had done similar work on himself. He was older, shorter, stockier - only slightly above her new height, with thinning mid brown curly hair cropped short and grey eyes; even the car had changed colour model and registration in the few minutes that she had been distracted. Amazed, she shook her head, wide eyed.

"OK. Now I'm impressed."

Harry shrugged. "It's basic Auror training really, although changing the car colour is a little harder as it's bigger and chemically more complicated than we are. Shall we go…"

Donnelly and Mason were still there when they arrived in Llanelwy, although the blue Ford had been replaced by a grey Volkswagen Harry noticed with a smile. They paid absolutely no attention to the older couple in the undistinguished car who were clearly tourists on holiday.

Natasha and Harry spent almost an hour scrutinising every inch of the cathedral interior, every carving, document and memorial with no success. Eventually Harry left Natasha in the Choir Stalls, reading a guide book she had bought from the small selection available, while he struck up a conversation with the guide, returning a while later looking irritated.

"You're never going to believe this..." he sank into the seat beside her, frustration written clear on his face. "There's nothing here at all that predates the thirteenth century destruction and subsequent rebuilding. Any records and documents that were salvaged are now in the cathedral archives in Chester.

"Chester? Didn't we drive past that on the way here?"

Harry nodded ruefully. "The bad news is that if we want to do any research, we'll have to make an appointment with the archivist first, and that can take ages if we're unlucky"

"So what's the good news?"

Harry held up a slip of paper. "They were able to give me a telephone number."

"Right" said Natasha taking the paper briskly. "Leave that with me. When we get to the car I'll call it in. I have contacts that can push through an appointment - hopefully for tomorrow, since I assume that this afternoon will be out of the question."

"We're getting nowhere fast with this" grumbled Harry crossly. I can't believe we're going back the way we came and we're still no closer to a question, let alone an answer". Natasha was rummaging in her bag, completely ignoring his sniping.

Back in the safety of the car, she pulled out her mobile. Harry frowned. "Won't Hydra be able to track your phone call?"

The SHIELD agent shook her head. "Normally – yes. But this is a Starkphone - with Tony Stark's personal modifications. No-one can track this phone except Jarvis."

"Jarvis?"

"Tony Stark's AI and right hand man. It pisses the hell out of Fury that even he can't track them - and believe me he's tried. They're special Avengers issue, so whenever SHIELD needs to track us they have to ask Stark..." She chuckled. "...and Stark won't do anything to oblige Fury if he can help it."

Even for a wizard, that name was familiar. "Stark? Isn't he..?."

"...Iron Man. Yes."

"Wow. Of course. You're the one they call The Black Widow. I remember seeing the pictures of New York"

"Harry"

"Yes?"

"If you mention the catsuit I really am going to kill you. And wipe that grin off your face for the love of God."

ooo0ooo

They checked into a nondescript privately run hotel on the outskirts of Chester. Harry scanned the grubby looking dinner menu dubiously and wisely decided that it might be time to introduce the former KGB agent to a great British tradition.

"I have had fish and chips before you know." Natasha peeled the paper wrapping open dubiously. "Don't they normally come on a plate?"

Harry bit appreciatively into a chip drenched in salt and vinegar. "If you've never sat on a park bench and eaten them out of the paper than you've never had fish and chips. Don't wait, they'll get cold."

By now they were back in their normal forms, and Harry tried very hard not to be put off by the sight of Natasha's perfect lips wrapped appreciatively around a chip. Seeing her eyebrow quirk in amusement, Harry dragged his attention back to his meal, unaware that the lovely Russian's eyes had lingered on him almost as long. They had finished, and were walking back to the car, wiping the last of the salt and vinegar from their fingers with Harry's handkerchief when he suddenly became that she was now longer listening to him.

"Are you al...?" he trailed off into silence as she pulled him close, hands clutching his jacket, lips brushing his, just enough to send his pulse racing, turning him so that he had his back to the trees, shielding them both.

"Shh. Don't look now but we're being watched."

Harry cursed softly under his breath, as he wrapped his arms around her, playing along. "Fuck I knew I should have disguised us again. HYDRA?"

She nodded, almost imperceptibly, her breath whispering across his skin as she spoke. "I'll deal with it. We just walk back to the car as planned. If it is Donnelly, and I'm pretty sure that Mason won't ruin her shoes skulking in the bushes if she can help it, then he and I need to have a little chat. Just follow my lead."

It was Harry's first instinct to protest, that he was more than capable of taking care of himself and her, but he was talking to the Black Widow after all, so he leaned down, dropping a kiss on the point of her jaw as he breathed in her ear. "OK"

Arms around one another, her head against his shoulder they ambled slowly back toward the car. The approach to the gates in the high wall which surrounded the park, was through an avenue of towering lime trees which cast pools of deep darkness across the already shaded path. Just before they reached the gates Natasha ducked silently from under his arm, melting into the darkness. Harry was careful not to break stride, turning right out of the gate, down the poorly lit street, careful to stick to the shadows, to make it as hard as possible for Donnelly to realise that he was now alone. Behind him he could hear stealthy, male footsteps, then a sharp scuffle. If he hadn't been listening carefully, he thought, he would never even have noticed it. Then there was silence. Harry slid back into the shadows, ears straining for a clue as to what was going on, but there was nothing, and the street behind him was deserted. Careful not to draw attention to himself, he slid quietly back around the gate back the park, wand in hand, every sense alert.

A little to his left, out of sight of the main pathway he could hear the muffled sounds of a struggle. Drawing carefully closer, Harry's eyes widened as they gradually became accustomed to the darkness. A large figure was lying, face down on the floor, pinned very effectively by Natasha. The figures' hands were cable tied tightly behind his back and the Russian was straddling his shoulders, hands on the back of Donnelly's neck. Harry realised that the strange noises were actually the American's efforts to breath, Natasha had him face down in a very muddy puddle.

Harry leaned casually against a tree, watching from a distance. "Err, we don't waterboard people in this country you know."

Natasha looked up at him briefly, scowling at the distraction. "I'm here with the permission of your authorities, to do whatever needs to be done to stop these people. You need to go back to the car and leave this to me."

Harry shook his head "Nope. Not going to happen. Beside, there are much easier ways to get what you need."

"Oh really" Donnelly was thrashing like a gutted fish, but had managed to get his head just far enough out of the puddle to catch a choking, spluttering breath that made Harry wince. With a jerk, his head was pushed ruthlessly back under. "Well I was kind've having fun here, but I'd be open to suggestions. If someone calls the police on me it'll mean a lot of explanations."

Harry took a quick look around before raising his wand. "OK, but keep still, I don't want to petrify you too. Petrificus totallus!" There was a flash of light and the heaving body was suddenly still and rigid. Mindful of the fact that Donnelly still had his face in the water Harry didn't hang about. Gesturing to Natasha to stand up, he followed up with "wingardium leviosa" carefully levitating Donnelly into the darkness, securing him very firmly against the foot of a tree.

Natasha was still looking irritable, but reluctantly impressed. "So what do we do now? Make him a cup of tea, have a nice little chat"

Harry pulled a small glass vial out of this pocket. "Something like that. That was an incredibly impressive take-down by the way, but there's no need to make this harder work than it has to be." Bending, he dropped three drops into Donnelly's open mouth.

"What the hell is that?"

"Veritaserum. The most powerful truth potion in existence. Give him a minute for it to take effect and he'll sing like a canary."

"Seriously? Do me a favour - don't let Fury get so much of a whiff of that stuff or I'll be out of a job."

"Oh trust me. No one gets this stuff, it's highly restricted. Now, let's see if he's ready to be a little more cooperative." With a flick of his wand he lifted the body bind on Donnelly who was now relaxed and smiling, his eyes slightly unfocused. Pulling out his handkerchief he wiped the muddy water from his face. "Now, Mr Donnelly, are you feeling better?"

The boxer's face worked momentarily as he fought the effects of the spell, but he had no chance. "N..nnngh ... yes!" he spat.

"There now, that wasn't so bad was it?" Harry sat back on his heels thoughtfully, face bland, voice chatty and pleasant. They might have been discussing the weather. "So, you are Patrick Liam Donnelly from New York. Can you tell me who you are currently working for?"

He fought it, he really tried, they could see it in the congestion in his face and throat, and the rigidity of his shoulders, but better men than him had been beaten by veritaserum before.

"...H.. HYDRA"

"Excellent. And your partner?"

Donnelly gave up. "Mason..." he muttered "... Imogen Mason"

Behind them, Natasha huffed irritably. "This is all very impressive Harry, but can we ask him something we don't know for a change?"

Harry smiled, utterly unruffled by her impatience. "OK Pat, lets notch it up shall we. Why are you spying on us?"

"Orders - from New York Office"

"That's good Pat, you're doing really well. So what were those orders?"

"Observe and report only"

"Why?"

"Didn't tell me."

"Who didn't tell you Pat"

"Commander Johnson. New York Office. Sonnofabitch!"

"Sounds like a real peach Pat. Now what is it you're looking for?"

"Didn't tell me"

"Come on Pat, they must have told you why they needed us followed?"

"Nope. Just muscle for hire. Don't know can't tell. S'how they work"

"How do we find this Johnson?"

"Don't know. Contacts me. Meet in Central Park... Like Central Park"

Behind him, he heard Natasha curse fluently in Russian. "Harry, we're wasting our time. The Central Park tip off could be useful if we can catch them meeting on CCTV, but he clearly knows nothing useful to us. It's time to finish this."

Harry turned to see her approaching determinedly, knife in hand. The warm snarky woman he had spent the last few days with was gone. The woman in front of him was colder than a Hogwarts winter, and just as hard.

"No Natasha. Just... no. We don't need to kill him"

"Harry. You know who this is and what he's capable of."

"Oh yes. Don't get me wrong, I'm not being sentimental, just practical. If you kill him they'll know for certain that we're onto them."

"So what? You're just going to let him go, let him tell Hydra all about who you are and what you can do?"

He shook his head. "Just watch... " He put his wand to Donnelly's temple, noting the fear in his eyes with grim satisfaction, even when he was under the lingering influence of the veritaserum. "We just hit the rewind button. Obliviate"

Donnelly's eyes glazed over and he slumped to one side. Straightening up, stretching, Harry released his bonds, bending to mutter a further charm into his ear. Silvery mist slid from the end of the wand, into Donnelly's temple.

"Come on, lets get out of here"

They strolled as unobtrusively as possible out of the park, seeing no one as they left. Neither spoke until they were back in the car.

"So what exactly did you do to him?"

"Nothing very..." whatever he was about to say was interrupted when Natasha's phone went off.

"Ah. Hello Jarvis – I should warn you that you are on speaker."

"Good evening Miss Romanoff, I trust that you are enjoying the United Kingdom. Good evening to you too Mr Potter."

Harry frowned, confused. He had been given to understand that Jarvis was an AI, but this sounded more like an English Professor, or the kind of butler he had seen in black and white films. "Good evening Jarvis"

"I am delighted to say that I have been in touch with the archive curator at Chester Cathedral, a charming woman who goes by the name of Annabel Lee. She will be happy to see you tomorrow morning at 10.30am. I took the liberty of giving your names as Mr and Mrs Rogers. You are investigating some papers found in Mrs Rogers' sadly deceased great uncle's home"

"Perfect." Reaching into her pocket, she removed a mobile that Harry hadn't seen before. Deftly shucking the back she slipped the SIM out, and inserted it into an additional slot in her own phone. "Jarvis, I'm sending you some information from Donnelly's cellphone. See what you can make of it. If there's anything of interest you might want to pass it on to Fury."

"Leave it with me Miss Romanoff, the first of the data is coming through."

"Thank you Jarvis. That's great."

"It was my pleasure Miss Romanoff. And you might wish to remember an umbrella tomorrow morning – there is an 87% chance of rain in Chester before noon."

"What would I do without you Jarvis. Be good"

"Be careful Miss Romanoff. Goodbye Mr Potter."

"Err. Goodbye Jarvis, it's been a pleasure"

She tucked the phone back in her pocket, smiling at Harry's expression.

"What?"

"I thought you said he was a computer?"

Natasha looked positively scandalised. "A computer? Describing Jarvis as a computer is like describing you as a street corner conjurer. Jarvis is Tony Stark's greatest creation, an Artificial Intelligence so sophisticated that the only thing he lacks is a human body. He literally runs Tony's life, his various homes, his suits and even his cars. His is also the seventh avenger, since these days he pretty much runs our lives too, not to mention running mission control for us."

Harry shook his head, amazed. "I would never have guessed I wasn't talking to a human being."

"Precisely. Annabelle Lee will remember speaking to a particularly charming English gentleman, and there will be no record anywhere of the conversation. Knowing Jarvis I wouldn't be at all surprised if I end up with her private number for him to call her. He can be very smooth when he needs to be. And if he managed to get us an appointment for tomorrow morning he must have been very smooth indeed. Come on let's go. Our particularly lumpy looking bed awaits us."

They parked the car a little way from the hotel and walked back past rows of Victorian town houses. Just as they were opening the gate Natasha paused. "I'd forgotten, we got sidetracked by Jarvis' calling. What did you do to Donnelly?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing serious. I just removed his memories of finding us tonight, and implanted a memory of him getting fed up, buying a bottle of vodka and getting paralytic. He'll even have a hangover in the morning."

"You changed his memories?"

Harry caught her horrified expression and scowled. "Oh right. And instead I should have let you cut his throat, which would have been so much better."

Natasha's face was stony. They spent the rest of the night in uncomfortable silence.