Work Text:
мама
When Natasha stepped through the portal, her senses were stretched to breaking point. The platform "Platform 9 ¾" lay quiet and deserted before her. It was still exactly four hours until the departure of the Hogwarts Express and therefore hardly surprising that no one had yet gathered in the empty platform. She herself, however, hadn't missed the chance to do a final security check - after all, in a few hours her protégé would be boarding the train that had just arrived, leaving her for a long time to come.
The imposing red Lock pulled into the station with a thunderous roar and came to a screeching halt. An elderly man got off a little later and left the platform without taking the slightest notice of Natasha.
As she looked at the old vehicle, a wry smile crept onto her face. She was sure that this year would be a very special one for her little one. Even as a little boy, he had loved playing with the model trains Tony had given him. With one last scrutinising look, she turned to leave and disappeared back into the Muggle world.
A short time later, she entered her hotel room. If you could call it a room - because even in view of the fact that they had only had to stay here for one night and Tony himself hadn't even been able to come along, he hadn't let himself be deprived of renting them a suite for which the description luxurious was almost an understatement. Pompous would be a more appropriate term in Natasha's eyes.
Her path led her into the sprawling living room, whose glass front showed a fantastic view over the rooftops of London. From the direction of the sofa, which stood with its back to her, deep, relaxed snoring droned on her ears. Apparently, Thor had not been as cool about the flight (which he had been thrilled about at the beginning) as he had seemed at the airport.
Clint was standing at the glass window, and at the moment she entered the room, he snapped his mobile phone shut and turned around. They needed no words, just a questioning look from Clint and a reassuring nod from Natasha herself to confirm that all was safe. Hawkeye sighed with relief and allowed himself a thin smile.
"We haven't seen him yet," he interjected. "I assume he's still asleep."
Natasha smirked and turned to go.
"You don't believe that yourself," she scoffed, striding towards the small bedroom. Her charge had fallen into bed dog-tired the night before, but Natasha knew him too well to believe he was still in bed at this hour.
And she was right in her assumption. When she opened the door to the room, she saw him sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her, with an almost infinite number of books scattered around him. A feather or the tip of a cloak flashed out between them and even his wand lay wedged between two books at her feet. Natasha picked it up and cleared her throat softly.
The little boy lifted his head and when he recognised her a happy glow lit up his features.
"Tasha! Good morning!" he greeted her, folding the thick tome closed on his lap.
"Good morning, little one." she replied, unable to stop her lips from twisting into another small smile. "It'll all be tidied up, though. We'll be leaving in two hours. Can you manage?"
"Sure thing!" he beamed, getting to his feet. "I'll get started right away. I was just so excited and wanted to read through the books Uncle Thor gave me again."
"I can see that," she smirked and handed him the wand. "But you shouldn't treat him here like that. What have we learned?"
"Rule number seven: Take care of your work materials."
"And?"
"Rule number four: never leave home without a wand."
"And?"
He looked at her a little confused, obviously not understanding what she was getting at.
"Don't forget to eat breakfast, brush your teeth and be on time."
He laughed and nodded hastily before rushing past her into the bathroom. Natasha watched him go and a strange, warm feeling came over her. She hadn't wondered about it for a long time, even if she still didn't fully understand it. After all, she had been caring for the little one for almost ten years now and it was not the first time she had felt such emotions.
Back then, on an assignment in England, she had seen him lying on a doorstep near London as a tiny, innocent bundle. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she had run to him, leaned down and that was when they had captivated her. Deep, green eyes in a round, soft child's face. She had found it hard to tear herself away from the sight and had quickly rung the doorbell.
What happened afterwards still made her face contort in anger. The people who had opened the door were still a thorn in her side. They had hardly seen the bundle and read the accompanying letter before they began to bicker and clamour, to shout and make noise. Only when the lights went on in the neighbouring houses did the two of them fall silent and explain to Natasha in short, concise and overly clear sentences that they would not take "the freak" in and that they wished her a lot of fun with him. Then the door was slammed in Natasha's face.
She had been so angry that day that she had unceremoniously taken the little one with her. Although Director Fury had initially declared her crazy, after some investigation it had turned out that the child had no relatives apart from the two screamers and was therefore entirely on her own.
The adoption had been a no-brainer, especially since the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was involved. The Avengers themselves had only found out about the little one four years later, but had all taken it more than well. Except for Dr. Banner, who had almost died of a heart attack at the beginning when a black-haired five-year-old suddenly stood in front of him and asked to play with him. But he too had got used to their new member quite quickly and had taken him firmly to his heart.
Two years later they learned that the child was a wizard. It was Thor who found the right teachers and organised most of the magic lessons. Although the little boy also went to school, none of the Avengers took the trouble to teach him a thing or two.
Natasha smiled pensively as she thought of the many hours she had spent in the training room herself with her charge, showing him the basics of self-defence.
She pushed herself off the doorframe and followed him into the bathroom. Once there, she watched him meticulously brush his teeth and try to tame his hair without any significant success.
"Did you remember to do your exercises this morning?", Natasha asked him after a while.
"Right after I got up." the little boy replied without taking his eyes off the mirror.
"Very well. I'll wait in the living room."
She got no reply, for he had clamped his tongue between his teeth in exertion and buried his hands deep in his own hair. It still wouldn't do.
Two hours later, the three of them stood on platform 9 ¾. Thor had said goodbye to the little one earlier and now took up position outside the station. He would watch the train from a distance for a while, just for safety.
In contrast to the morning, there was now an enormous noise on the platform, witches and wizards everywhere hurrying from A to B, but Natasha could also make out a few Muggles here and there. Not far from her stood an expensively dressed couple, who listened with smiling faces to their radiantly chattering daughter.
In the next moment, however, her attention was drawn back to her own charge, for he slipped his little fingers unsteadily into her hand. Looking down at him, she recognised fear and doubt in his gaze alongside excitement and anticipation. Without further ado, she knelt in front of him, without letting go of his hand, and looked him straight in the eyes. Those green eyes that had lost none of their innocent purity even after all these years.
"Now listen to me carefully, little one." she began in an urgent voice and was grateful when she noticed in the corner of her eye Clint standing beside her, shielding her from prying disturbing eyes. "You've learned everything we've taught you. You are the son of heroes. I'm proud of you, Harry James Potter."
He smiled uncertainly, but seemed unconvinced by what she said.
"I never told you, but there is a reason you kept your full name when you came to us." They had always told Harry the truth from the beginning - even when he asked about his birth parents. "Your birth parents died to protect you. They certainly didn't want you to be sad, they wanted you to wear their name with pride. You are the son of two heroes and were raised by other heroes. Be proud of yourself. Be proud of what and who you are! You are my son." She swallowed, for these words surprised herself. Yet she was all too aware of their truth. "No matter what, I will always love you, just as your birth parents did. Do you understand me?"
The fear slowly disappeared, bit by bit, from the little boy's features. He wiped his face vigorously once more, then beamed at her and nodded.
"That's what I want to see.", Natasha nodded proudly - and in the next moment, almost startled, she tipped over backwards as two thin little arms wrapped around her neck.
"Thank you, мама."