CAUTION - FURTHER INFORMATION (but no graphic description) RELATING TO NATASHA'S ASSAULT AT THE END OF CHAPTER TWELVE. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED
Harry woke up to find Hermione by his bed.
It was a scene they had played out so many times over the years, that for a moment he was confused, as time blurred, taking him back to his days at Hogwarts.
"Ohhhh. Not again. What did I do this time. What happened?"
Hermione took his hand. "How much do you remember?"
Harry frowned, then shook his head hopelessly… "I remember being in a helicopter with Draco, and a cliff, the sea…then it all gets a bit… confusing... weird... yes, weird is good. Definitely weird" He squinted around the room. "Do they have me on the good pain potions again?"
"There was an explosion in the cave you were in and the roof was coming down. According to Draco you were thrown – or may have spontaneously apparated clear, but you went straight back in... at which point the rest of the roof came down. It took them six hours to dig you out." She squeezed his hand in both of hers. "I'm sorry Harry. I'm afraid Ginny didn't make it. I wasn't aware she was involved in the case. I suppose she was the one you were trying to rescue."
Ginny
It felt as though several gallons of iced water had been dropped on him, as his mind finally made sense of Hermione's words. "Ginny... wasn't working for us. She was Araposa... working for HYDRA. She didn't die in the cave-in... I killed her"
Hermione went very pale. "HYDRA. Are you sure?"
"Oh yes. That was what caused the explosion. The portal I came out of changed as soon as I came through it, because by then I was the guardian of the..." he couldn't remember how much Hermione knew, so he erred on the side of caution "...the thing we were looking for by then. Once I was through it became the portal that concealed... that only I could access. Ginny was about to kill... I killed her, and she lurched back into the portal. But she didn't have the right... the portal exploded. We were all picking ourselves up off the floor, trying to get out when the first section of the roof came down... I don't... I don't remember much more.
"Did you get what you were looking for?"
When the time comes you will have to choose
Harry shook his head. "I destroyed it. As far as Kingsley's concerned I did it to stop HYDRA getting to it, but truly... I did it to stop anyone getting to it. Grindelwald, Voldemort, HYDRA, Loki, the Third Reich - even SHIELD and the Ministry itself. There's always another power trying to take over the world, and I'm damned if I'll leave it for them to find. It was a risk I wasn't prepared to take. My job was to secure it, to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Well I've done it... mission accomplished." He leaned back on his pillow, more tired than he was prepared to admit. A healer came in, exclaimed happily that he was awake, waved her wand over him muttering under her breath, left another pain potion on the bedside, extracting a faithful promise from Hermione that she would ensure that Harry took it before she left. Ignoring her bustling, Harry watched Hermione with some concern, noting the unmistakable signs of too many tears and not enough sleep.
He squeezed her hand. "Draco, is he alright?"
Hermione nodded, her face tightening. "We hope so, but it's a little soon to tell."
Harry grinned weakly. "So why are you here, not holding his hand?"
Hermione's brown eyes welled up and she bit her lip. Harry felt like an arse for teasing her. "Because he still hasn't opened his eyes since he lost consciousness shortly after the rescue party arrived. It's a bloody good job he did get out, and was able to send me a patronus, otherwise no one would have known to summon help. What were you thinking Harry? As I said, it took six hours to get you out, and longer to recover the bodies. Other than Ginny, there was a man and a woman in there too, he had his neck broken and the woman had the side of her head caved in. As far as we can see it appears that they did not die in the explosion."
Natasha's work, Harry thought...
"Natasha?"
Still thinking of Draco, Hermione looked up, confused. "Natasha?"
"Was there a woman with bright red hair?"
Hermione's frowned deepened, looking a little nervous. "Harry... you remember? Ginny is dead."
Harry shook his head irritably, trying not to notice the pain and dizziness that resulted. "No. Not Ginny. Dammit Hermione I may have had a bang on the head, I'm not... There was another woman, not as tall as Ginny, a little older. Wearing a grey hoodie and jeans - her hands would have been manacled. Her name is Natasha Romanoff and I ..."
"Go on Harry"
"... I think I may possibly be in love with her"
The silence stretched out, until Harry thought he was going to scream. "Hermione...?"
"I'm sorry Harry. I have no idea who you're talking about. There was no-one else in the cave."
ooo0ooo
It was another thirty six hours until Harry was able to get out of bed. Thirty six hours during which a number of the men from the Phoenix Squad visited him, bringing sweets and other small gifts. One even managed to smuggle a bottle of Ogden's Best in past the healers, although Harry didn't feel up to drinking it.
Harry saw nothing of Fitch, the Head of MLE, or of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Four days after he was pulled from the cave Harry was finally discharged from St Mungo's. A nasty fracture, caused by a rock pinning his leg for six hours had been healed, but was still tender necessitating the use of a walking stick for a few more days. The fact that he felt more than a little like Mad Eye Moody didn't help Harry's mood. It had taken him two hours before he actually physically left the building. Two hours in which he combed the narrow uneven corridors of the hospital, asking every member of staff that he found the same question, but to no avail. No one had any knowledge of a red haired muggle, or even of a red haired woman that was still unconscious and therefore assumed to be magical.
Eventually Harry gave up, and apparated to a quiet corner of London to start combing the Muggle Hospitals, trying to ignore the pain in his head and face, and the throbbing ache in his leg. Eventually, when it was too late to wander around hospitals asking questions without attracting too much attention, and the pain behind his eyes was getting too bad to ignore he gave up and went home for a few hours of restless sleep.
The following day, and six hospitals later he found her...
Given the ward details by the front desk, he decided to take advantage of the fact that it was visiting time to wander confidently down the corridor, scanning each room that he passed. On the second pass, he saw her. A quick flick of magic activated an alarm at the other end of the ward, leaving the nurses' station temporarily clear. Taking his chance, Harry slipped quietly into the side room, the hustle and bustle of the ward outside vanishing as the door closed softly behind him.
"Hi"
She still looked awful, he thought seeing the bruising and swelling that still covered a significant amount of her face and arms. Her hands and wrists were bandaged, and cuts to her mouth and brow had been stitched. But what bothered him most was a certain – blankness in her expression. He had hoped she would be pleased to see him – or at least pissed with him for not backing her up properly in the garden. The look of mild curiosity was... unsettling.
He had been staring. The curiosity was replaced with suspicion, one bandaged hand slipping unobtrusively beneath the covers - presumably for whatever weapon she had managed to stash under there.
"Hi Tash. How're you feeling?"
She frowned, searching his face for a moment. "I'm sorry. Do I know you? Are you one of the doctors?"
"It's me Tash. Harry?"
She was silent for a moment, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. I don't think we've ever met."
It was as if he'd been punched hard in the stomach. Why didn't she remember him? Had she had a bang on the head... traumatic amnesia? He needed to speak to the nurses.
He didn't push it... excusing himself politely he closed the door behind him, leaning weakly against the wall for a moment, trying to calm down, the blood roaring in his ears, heart pounding.
Once he was a little calmer he approached the desk casually flashed his Auror badge, which appeared, to Muggle eyes to identify him as DI Porter of the Metropolitan Police. Seeing him the nurse on the station put the phone down and looked up with a distracted smile. "How can I help you Detective Inspector?"
Harry showed her a picture of Natasha that he'd taken that afternoon on the beach. "I'm looking for this woman – she is currently missing, believed to have come to some harm. I understand that you have a patient that may match her description."
The nurse re-examined his credentials carefully, then nodded. "Oh yes DI Porter, she's been here nearly a week now. Poor Ms Rushmore, they found her sitting in a side room in Accident and Emergency – no idea how she got here, but your timing's spot on. She only woke up for the first time last night."
Fear clenched the pit of Harry's stomach. If she'd been unconscious that long, she must have been more badly injured than her appearance had suggested.. And how the hell had she ended up in a muggle hospital in North London? And why the hell did she look at him as if she'd never seen him before in her life. Clutching the rags of his professional persona, he asked the nurse how bad Natasha's injuries were.
The nurse – Jane according to her badge searched her computer files rapidly, frowning at what she read. "That's the strange thing. She clearly suffered a serious and sustained beating, probably within 24-36 hours of her admission if the colour of the bruising is anything to go by; she seems to have been in a fight more recently too – gave as good as she got by the look of her hands, but other than some superficial bruising there was no sign of any head injury that could account for the depth and length of her unconsciousness. She's clearly been held prisoner by someone, her wrists and ankles have been restrained – the skin is lacerated in places, and heavily bruised – and I'm talking shackles here, not the sort of handcuffs you can pick up in the high street."
"What does she remember?"
"Well now, that's the odd thing. She has no recollection of being injured, or the events leading up to it. She's American you know?" Harry nodded tersely. "She says she remembers coming to London on a business trip, and that's all... " Her cheerful expression faded. "Perhaps that's a good thing"
"Because of the beating?"
She shook her head. "Not just the beating. You'll need to go through formal channels to get the details... but we did the full range of tests on admission... there was evidence of a violent sexual assault." She rose, concerned by the expression on his face. " DI Porter are you alright? Do you need a cup of tea? You've gone awfully pale."
With a tremendous force of will, Harry dragged himself together. "No, I'm sorry, it's been a busy day, and I skipped lunch. It's really hot in here too. I don't know how you stand it. Thank you for your help ... Jane. I may be back tomorrow with a female colleague to speak to her."
"That may be a good idea - when I checked half an hour ago she was asleep."
Harry nodded distractedly. "I won't wake her then, thank you" Unable to contain himself any longer, Harry turned on his heel and strode away.
He just managed to hurl himself into a convenient toilet before he was suddenly and violently ill.
ooo0ooo
That night Harry Potter curled up on the sofa in his library with a bottle of Ogden's Best Fire Whisky, and got thoroughly and miserably drunk... He hadn't done anything so recklessly and humiliatingly self indulgent since those wretched months after the end of the war, when he had spent weeks holed up in Grimmauld Place, with the wards slammed shut, just sleeping, drinking and staring at the walls until his forehead bled, wallowing in a morass of guilt and self-recrimination. Eventually Hermione had lost patience with him, and had borrowed a Hogwarts House Elf to apparate her in - wards - like other forms of magic, apparently didn't have any effect whatsoever on House Elf Magic. She had been fired with determination to get Draco out of Azkaban, and insisted that Harry help her.
Looking back, she had saved him as well as Draco.
Tormented by the memories of those he had left behind in The Otherworld, and the thought of what Tash must have gone through at the hands of Donnelly and Mason, Harry took another long swig of Firewhisky. He'd reached the stage where using a glass seemed terribly prissy and unnecessary when the bottle was just so much easier, simplifying the systematic obliteration of the blank look he had seen in Natasha's eyes that afternoon. Almost like someone that had...
"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me. Kingsley you son of a bitch!"
Even through the haze of exhaustion and alcohol, Draco's words - spoken in that very room - came back to him as clear as day. "Don't let her out of your sight Harry."
He really hoped that he still had a hangover potion in the bathroom. He would need a clear head for the morning.
ooo0ooo
The following morning saw Harry - coffee and potioned back to his usual nine tenths human stomped into the Ministry Atrium, with a face like thunder. Abruptly dodging the large number of witches and wizards wanting to inquire after his health he took the first available lift to the Minister for Magic's office.
Natasha had gone...
He had called the hospital that morning, only to be informed that a woman had arrived the previous night. The lady had appeared to be pleased to see her, and after a short conversation Natasha had checked herself out against the Doctor's advise and nothing had been seen since. They had done their best to pursuade her to stay, but she was having none of it, they had reported.
The witch on the desk in Kingsley's reception area told him that the Minister wasn't able to see him at the moment, so Harry went in anyway. It was a good thing that the door opened for him, he thought belligerently, as he was perfectly willing to blow the bloody thing off its hinges if he'd had to, but it might be better not to commit an act of magical vandalism in the office of the most powerful man in Wizarding Britain – old friend or otherwise – if he could help it.
"Where is she Kingsley? And what the fuck did you do to her?"
Kingsley was a politician and a damn good one, thought Harry. But years with the Aurors had taught Harry to read a face as easily as a book. In the split second before Kingsley's genial, professional face had slammed into position, his expression had been all too clear.
Guilt
What the hell had he done. Had Draco been right to suspect that Natasha was in danger, not just from HYDRA but from his, Harry's, friends and colleagues?
Just how far was Kingsley prepared to go to protect their secret?
"Harry. Are you alright by friend, you seem a bit upset. Good to see you up and about so quickly. Excellent job. Well done. Shame you had to destroy the artifacts of course, but still. Better than..."
Harry forced the words out between gritted teeth. "Where is Natasha Romanoff Kingsley?"
"Ah"
"Ah?"
"Well that's the thing Harry. I haven't seen the lovely Ms Romanoff since that day in your kitchen. Didn't even realise she was still with you. Probably gone back to New York by now. Unless…"
"Unless what Kingsley?"
"Just exactly how familiar are you with her err… record Harry."
"Intimitely Kingsley. And you're not trying that one on me. There is no way that she was HYDRA. And while we're on the subject, can you throw any light on why it was that when I finally found her in the most random hospital imaginable, where she had apparently been dropped rather unceremoniously; that she had no idea who I was, or that we had ever met before?"
Kingsley shrugged. "She didn't remember you. That's most unfortunate. She probably sustained a blow on the head. Given her lifestyle... and old injury perhaps..."
Harry tried for almost another half an hour, but Kingsley's shield's were up with a vengeance. Eventually he gave up, and rose from his seat with an abruptness that cut Kingsley off mid-sentence, and left.
"Harry?" But Harry was halfway through the door. "Harry! Don't forget your report"
Harry snarled a curse over his shoulder as the door slammed. On Kingsley's desk one of his quills suddenly sprang to life, scrawling across a report on the illegal trade in exotic potions ingredients…
Dear Minister Shacklebolt.
I quit. With immediate effect.
Yours sincerely,
Harry Potter
ooo0ooo
As soon as Harry crashed back into Grimmauld Place he retrieved Natasha's mobile from his desk - it had been purely by accident that had left it in the library when he and Draco left for Anglesey... he had cursed its absence at the time, but with hindsight, had it come to Anglesey the chances were that it would never have survived the experience. In all the anxiety of the last few days he had completely forgotten its existence. Muttering in relief Harry turned it on... hoping that it hadn't been disconnected.
There were five missed calls from the same number.
"Stark residence. How may I direct your call"
"Hello Jarvis. Good to speak to you again. Is Mr Stark available? This is Harry Potter"
"Mr Potter, how very good to hear from you. We were most concerned when we were unable to reach you. Unfortunately Mr Stark is engaged on Avengers business at present and cannot be contacted unless in the greatest of emergencies. Do you wish him to call you on his return... it may be a little while."
"Thank you Jarvis, that would be great. In the meantime, can you please set my mind to rest on one thing... is Natasha in New York?"
Was it Harry's imagination, or was there a subtle softening in the AI's voice. "Indeed Mr Potter. I apologise, I was not informed that you were unaware that we had repatriated her. Had I known I would have gone to greater lengths to ensure that I informed you myself."
Harry sank onto his desk chair, knees weak with relief. "Jarvis, you've taken a huge weight off my mind, thank you. Would you mind giving Mr Stark a message?"
"It would be my pleasure Mr Potter."
"Could you please ask him whether he is interested in adding magic to his technological repertoire?"
"It will be my pleasure Sir"