Chapter 10
Thursday morning was as horrible as wednesday morning. The same nightmare that gripped him in the cafeteria came back to haunt him all night, resulting in him having almost no decent sleep. And a tired Harry was a miserable Harry. The reason behind the nightmares, however, still alluded him. Perhaps, he figured, it was because he was working on the tesseract. The limitless energy was perhaps the only way he could find a way back to his universe (though, did he really want to go home...?), and yet his research was getting nowhere. Perhaps that was the reason.
Rubbing his eyes, he made his way into the kitchen, grabbing an apple off the bench and munching on it as he rummaged around, trying to find his bags. Picking his laptop bag up off the couch, he slung it over his shoulder, making his way towards the front door. Opening it, he slowly bent down to put on his shoes... to find he was not wearing any socks.
Sighing, he dumped his bags by the door and went back inside. A cold gust of wind blew through the open door, making him shiver. Why was it so cold in here? Oh. He grimaced as he realised he was still wearing his pyjama bottoms and no shirt. Idiot.
Grumbling in annoyance, he shrugged on his typical work clothes and picked up his bags once again, tripping over Crookshanks as he made his way out the door. Despite the weather man's promise of a sunny day, grey clouds had started to gather overhead. He frowned, eyeing off a strange blue tinge in them. Odd. Perhaps he needed his eyes checked again. Although his vision had been corrected long ago, sometimes he swore there was something wrong with it.
Realising he was running late, he rushed down to the bus stop, missing out on ordering coffee, then stood and waited, his brain brushing over different random facts of information and ideas. Perhaps a gold fork would work better? Or perhaps that would conduct too much electricity. Maybe rubber – rubber could not conduct, but the power in the tesseract was so immense that it could, possibly, jump through it.
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing as he realised he had forgotten to brush it, resulting in a bird's nest... well, more of a bird's nest than usual. Sometimes he wished he had picked an easier job. Something simple, like working at the supermarket or delivering newspapers... but physics and all strange sources of energy were just so interesting!
Perhaps he should start studying for another doctorate, he thought idly, drumming his fingers against his leg as he sat. A few cars whizzed past, exhaust fumes tickling his nose. A fairly large woman plopped down on the bench next to him, sniffing loudly and rubbing her pointer finger against her nose. Looking as if she was in her sixties or early seventies, Harry had to scoot over slightly so that she could fit her enormous girth on the bench properly. She reminded him a bit of an older version of Aunt Marge. He fought back a shudder as she sniffed loudly again.
Turning his head away and attempting to ignore her, he ran over a list of subjects he could pick up and take a doctorate for. He Already had Doctorates in Chemistry and Physics (plus enough experience in Astrophysics that he could get one if he wanted to), so why not Biology or Forensic Science? Even Archaeology or Anthropology would be fairly interesting... Perhaps even Math... although he doubted he would do that, as all math in general frustrated him, bringing back memories of himself struggling to do Dudley's homework over summer breaks.
"Off to school, Deary?" A low, warbling – yet doubtfully female – voice came from his left, making him jump violently. The large woman had turned to him, smiling hugely with her piggy eyes squinting slightly. He raised an eyebrow.
"No. Work." He answered shortly, hoping she would get the message that he did NOT want to talk to her.
"Ah! And where do you work? You look like a smart lad!"
"I can't really answer that. It's classified." He muttered, turning away. It did not stop the eager woman, however.
"Ooooh! Do you work with the FBI? I'll bet that's interesting! Or the CIA? Or the SWAT teams? Or how about the Department of -"
"Look, I work with the FBI, I'm a scientist, but I seriously am not aloud to talk about it." He snapped. The woman looked slightly taken aback for a moment, but the grin just spread wider.
"I completely understand! My son works in a large company, and he's not allowed to talk about their new inventions either! You know, when I was younger..."
Harry inwardly groaned, quickly tuning the grey-haired, enormous woman out. Silently preying to ANYONE that the bus would arrive soon, he vaguely noticed that the woman had stopped speaking, and was looking at him expectantly.
"Ah... sorry? I just zoned out for a second. I didn't get much sleep last night." He murmured, trying to by polite. The woman smiled.
"That's fine, Deary! I asked, have you ever written any papers that have been published? I, myself, am writing a Memoir about a woman I know, but... do you think I have to ask her permission to write about her?"
Harry stared at her incredulously, then turned away, shaking his head. The woman kept on chattering, rolls of fat wobbling as she spoke, hands become increasingly animated as she guestured. Every now and again, Harry would get a wiff of prunes and stale bread, making him want to gag. Digging his nails into his palms to stop himself from blowing up at the woman disturbing his peace, Harry all but threw himself onto the bus as soon as it pulled up.
Darting over to the left hand side, he grabbed a seat, shoving his bags down beside him so nobody could sit next to him. Unfortunately, the woman appeared to be following him. She sat down on the seat in front of him, twisted her torso around and bent over the back of the seat, still blabbering on.
Harry grimaced as her enormous bust – and surrounding rolls of fat – drooped over the back of the seat. It was times like this that he appreciated the male physique much more than the female. Not that he did not appreciated a nice-looking girl, but when they exposed more than they should (especially like the enormous old lady blabbering crazily to him) he could not help it. It really turned him off them.
"Excuse me, Ma'am?" A strong voice interrupted, making Harry glance up. Standing just beside the enormous woman was another woman, with red hair, a tall, strong figure and a steel-like look in her eyes. A warrior, in her own right, Harry recognised immediately.
"Yes, sweetheart?" The woman cooed, turning to face the young woman.
"You wouldn't mind if I stole Dr. Evans for a moment, would you? I need to discuss some work with him in private." She stated, slightly coldly. The woman looked a bit dissapointed for a momet, before nodding. Harry raised an eyebrow as he detected a slight Russian accent in her tone.
"Of course! I'll talk to you later, Dearie! And if I were you..." The old woman whispered in his ear, "I would snag that beauty while you still can, eh?" She giggled.
Harry grimaced, grabbing his bags and standing up, moving over to where the woman was leading him, slightly further up the bus. He did not recognise her (although she clearly did, him) but he was glad for any excuse to get as far away from the enormous, excitable woman as possible. And he could not deny it – the old woman was right. The red-haired woman was very attractive.
Sitting down behind her, he sighed in relief.
"Thankyou. Sooo. Much." He groaned, resting his head against the window. "Now, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?" He said. The woman smirked.
"Nothing, really. I just figured you'd want to get away from her. I'm Agent Romanoff. Of course, I know who you are; who hasn't heard of the Kid-who-saved-DirectorFury-from-the-assassin-that-attacked-him-when-his-back-was-turned?"
"Oh, M- God! They're still going on about that?" He groaned, biting his tongue when he almost said Merlin.
"It was impressive. You know, a few of the Scientists have been thinking it quite unfair; I mean, you were working in the Chemistry department, and then you get tossed straight into working in the Physics department with the tesseract, just because you saved his life. I must admit, I am slightly curious myself; Fury hasn't told me the whole story." She looked at him expectantly.
"Ugh... I have doctorates in both Chemistry and Physics, so it didn't really matter where I was working. I'm working with the tesseract, obviously, because – by saving Fury's life – I proved myself to be trustworthy to him. And I somehow doubt he lets "just anyone" work on that giant, blue mass of energy."
Agent Romanoff nodded, a calculating look on her face, but then frowned.
"Wait... Doctorates? You're what... seventeen?" She gaped. Harry sighed.
"I'm 24. And I'm smart, and I know people in high places that allowed me to excell while I could." *cough* confundus charms*
"So what, you're a genius or something?" She smiled. Harry scowled.
"Why does everybody keep asking me that? No. I'm not a genius. Another dozen IQ points, and then maybe just."
"Suit yourself."
They fell into a comfortable silence as the bus trip commenced. As it finally pulled up at the stop, they got out together, Harry quickly making sure that the enormous woman was not following him again. He sighed in relief as she waved goodbye through the glass window panes as the bus drove off.
"No offense to her, but I'll be glad to never see her again!" He muttered to himself. A chortle of laughter let him know that the Agent walking nearby heard him. A slight ache in his head reminded him of hs need for coffee. He glanced over to the Agent, biting his lip.
"Hey, look; I'm getting a coffee. I'll shout you one as a thanks for saving my life!" He smirked slightly. The Agent's eyes narrowed.
"Are you asking me on a date?" She all but growled. Harry shook his head.
"Of course not. I'm just offering you coffee in exchange for saving my life. No, seriously; one more minute with that woman and I probably would have done something incredibly stupid. I get a bit... touchy when I'm tired. So thankyou." He murmured sincerely.
She reguarded him with a closed, critical look for a moment, before nodding once. Harry grinned, beckoning to a coffee shop a dozen meters away.
"We'll go there. S.H.I.E.L.D coffee sucks." He snorted.
As he stood in line and ordered himself a caramel latte and her, a black double-shot with two sugars, he pondered her name. Romanoff. Romanoff... it sounded familiar. He would just about swear he had heard it somewhere before!
Grabbing the coffees as they were presented to him, he carried them over to the table Romanoff was sitting at, placing them down. She murmured a quiet thanks, taking a sip, and smiling as it was obviously to her liking.
Harry took a deep gulp of it, ignoring his burning tongue, as he felt the relief of caffiene rush through him.
"So... where are you from? In Russia, I mean." He added, trying not to sound like a complete idiot.
"Stalingrad. Although, it's called Volgograd now. What about you? Nice accent. London?"
"... I honestly thought my accent was gone. Obviously not. But I'm from Surrey; it's near London, although I was born in a place called Godric's Hollow, and I attented a private boarding school in Scotland... so I'm from a variety of places, I suppose. I'm not sure which one I really called Home."
"I have never heard of a Surrey, or a Godric's Hollow, but then again, I doubt you've heard of Stalingrad either." She smirked. Harry shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "And don't worry about your accent – I only noticed it because I've been trained to notice the tiniest of details. To the average person, it's unnoticible."
"That's a relief. When I first came here, all I got was "Where ya from?" and "Ooooh! Ya from Lundun? Tha's freakin' Awesome!" and I'll tell you, it got annoying fast!"
Romanoff's lips twitched up as she obviously fought off laughter as his stupid immitation of the American accent. Harry grinned.
"It does get annoying, I'll admit – I had lots of people accusing me of being a terrorist, though." Romanoff commented. Harry laughed lightly, however also picked up a slight double-meaning behind the words, spiking his curiousity. He knew better than to pry, however.
"So; you know Fury? Are you part of S.H.I.E.L.D.? I've heard it mentioned a few times, but I haven't been able to figure out exactly what it is... though I seem to be part of it." He murmured. The Agent looked a bit alarmed for a second, however quickly composed her face.
"I am. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to discuss it with you, though... for what I can say, though, it's pretty much gathering the most elite soldiers we can find to protect America... and the earth."
"So... protecting people from aliens and other beings from other universes? That kind of protection?" Harry smirked, becoming slightly smug as a tinty twitch on her hand told him that he was right.
"...No. That stuff doesn't exist."
"Yeah. Right. I'm working with the Tesseract, remember. I'm also the guy that came up with the whole theory of connecting worlds from other universes via wormholes."
"... That was you?"
"Yep. So, what else do you do? I mean, there's been no alien invasions recently..." Harry joked. Romanoff quirked an eyebrow.
"Training and solitary missions, mainly."
"What sort of training?"
"Martial arts, weapons, things like like that." She stated. Harry paused for a moment.
"So, hand in hand combat?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I've been looking for someone to practise sparring with, but unfortunately, once people fight with me once, they're always too scared to come back and practise with me again. How good are you?"
"Is that a challenge?" Agent Romanoff smirked, taking her last gulp of coffee. Harry tilted his head slightly.
"I don't know. Is it? Is there a training gym or something in the FBI building?" He asked.
"There is. What time do you get off work?"
"I usually get back to the building from the "Secret Location" At about 4."
"Well, then; third story, follow the corridoor from the lift right down to the end, opposite the indoor shooting range. It's hard to miss. I'll meet you there at 4:30pm sharp." Romanoff ordered.
Harry grinned, standing up as she did. He reached over and grabbed her coffee cup, dumbing it in a bin nearby.
"I'll be there for sure."
Nodding once to each other, they went seperate ways as they approached the FBI doors.
"Oh, and Dr. Evans?" Harry paused mid-stride, turning around to face her. "Call me Natasha."
"Then call me Harry." He smiled, and they went their separate ways. As he left, however, Harry felt a distinct creeping feeling rise up the back of his neck. There was certainly more to this encounter than a random meeting on the bus, he was sure.