"We did it!" cried Tony over the com. "Who's up for some shawarma? Hey, Potter, how 'bout you?" Natasha Romanoff let out a little smile at the thought of her longterm boyfriend/lover, Harry Potter, and waited for his response.

Nothing came.

Panic began to well up in her chest, green eyes wide, and Clint, who was next to her, didn't know how to calm her down.

Out of the three, that had always been Harry's expertise.

She and Harry had been together from the very beginning, both working for the Clairvoyant, until Hawkeye had taken them to SHIELD. They'd been in the Red Room together, heck, they'd even been kids together.

The three of them had been the best team in SHIELD, and had gone on countless missions together. Budapest was one of her fondest memories, actually.

Natasha fired several bullets in rapid succession from her gun at the AIM agents surrounding the three members of SHIELD.

"You know," came Harry's sarcastic drawl. "When you said we were coming to Budapest, Nat, I didn't quite think that this was what was going to happen."

"It's not like I plan to be attacked and highly outnumbered," Natasha shot back quickly, and Clint shook his head.

"Less chattering, guys, more ass-kicking."

"Yessir!" said Harry, faux saluting to the sandy-haired man before letting out a little holler and going trigger-happy with his wooden stick of death.

"Hey Nat?"

"Yeah Potter?"

"If we make it out of this alive, will you go out with me?" Her eyes widened for a brief moment, and then she smiled slightly and resumed her rapid fire.

"Better hope we make it out of here, Potter." He grinned at her and let out another little holler.

"Agent Potter is down." And there it was.

The ground breaking, utterly devastating voice of Nick Fury alerting the team to their partner's death.

Natasha stood there a moment, still in shock, before slowly sinking to her knees and breaking down into a fit of body-wracking sobs, crying as the news hit her full force.

Harry was dead.

He wasn't coming back.

He'd never be there on late night missions anymore, to hold her close and to run his hands through her hair as he softly sung lullabies from all the different places he'd visited before she'd fall asleep.

He wouldn't be there as a constant companion through her constant inner emotional turmoil, something that she'd only revealed to him.

It was as if a part of her was missing, now.

And she didn't know how to cope with it.

So she let herself remember.

"Спи, моя милая паук. Пусть крылья ночи Плащ вас в тепле. Спи, моя милая паук. Пусть свет Луны у вас к реке снов. Спи, моя милая паук. Я обещаю вам, что я никогда не буду , спать, спать, спать мало паука. И знаете, что я никогда не уйду, потому что я никогда не буду любить тебя до конца самой последней ночи," Harry sung softly. It was the Russian tune that Natasha's mother had sung to her when she was little.

"I love you too," she whispered up at him, and she snuggled up further into his warm chest as his emerald green eyes sparkled.

"Ты идиот!" yelled the red haired woman in Russian, storming up to the black haired man as he smiled sheepishly from the hospital bed he was perched on.

"Did you have any idea how worried I was about you?!" she shrieked, twisting his ear, and smirking slightly as he let out a little yelp. "You could have died! What would I have done? You stupid, mother fucking bastard-"

"Nat," he interjected weakly. "'m fine, really." And then Natasha was crying, full out crying, as she flung herself into Harry's chest, not noticing the slight wince he gave off at the contact.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," she said, sobbing into his chest. "You mean too much to me to loose you. Don't you ever leave me."

"Never," Harry promised, smiling into her dark red hair.

"Hey!" Harry yelled at the two boys who were leering at his longtime friend, Natasha. "You leave her alone!"

"And what are you going to do about it, ничтожная личность?" the taller of the two boys sneered, looking over the scrawny thirteen year old with distaste. He took a step towards Natasha, who was holding her head, as they'd thrown her up against the wall.

"Big mistake," hissed Harry, and before the two boys knew it, they were having their asses handed to them by some scrawny thirteen year old boy.

"You alright, Nat?" he asked, helping her up, shooting her a concerned look as she winced.

"I will be," she said, smiling shyly up at him. "Thanks Harry, for being there."

"Are you kidding me?" he asked. "I'll always be there, what are best friends for?"

"Promise?"

"Always."

"Harry," whispered a small girl in Russian, who could have only been six or seven years old. "I'm scared."

"It's alright, Nat," whispered the boy back, shaking his shaggy black hair, emerald green eyes darkening slightly as he puffed out his chest. "I'll be there to protect you."

"Promise?" asked the red haired girl as she looked up, and green eyes met green.

"Forever," Harry promised, holding out his pinky in a rather childish gesture. Natasha giggled, locking his pinky with her own.

She didn't know how, but somehow she'd run all the way back to Stark Tower, where Harry's body was, and had thrown herself onto him, still heaving broken sobs.

"You promised!" she cried, holding onto him with all her might, rocking back and forth rather hysterically. "You ублюдок! You promised!" But the pale face didn't twitch in recognition, the eyelids didn't flutter open to reveal twinkling emerald green eyes filled with life.

"Damn it, Harry James Potter!" she sobbed, cradling his face in her hands. "I love you!" And she allowed herself one last kiss to his pale pink lips, and let the world around herself fade as she fell asleep, arms curled protectively around him.

"Alert on Level 5, sir, Room 42A has been breached." Natasha's head shot up as the panicked voice sounded over the Intercom at the Triskelion. No. Room 42A on Level 5 was where they were keeping-

"Any disturbances?" barked back Fury into the received neatly infused onto his watch.

"Sir," the voice continued rather timidly. "The body being held there, it's missing." Natasha was up before the man on the Intercom could even finish his sentence. This could not be happening! It'd been just five days since Harry's death, and she couldn't bring herself to allow him to be buried, not yet.

There would be hell to pay for whomever'd taken his body.

She'd be sure of it.

No progress had been made whatsoever, and all Natasha wanted to do was go back to the comfy apartment she and Harry had called home, collapse on her bed, and cry herself to sleep. Her hand shook slightly as she put the key into the door and twisted, and she quickly entered and relocked the door before heading to the bedroom.

Imagine her surprise when she found it already occupied, by none other than a tall, lithe, sheepish looking man with a rat's nest of raven black hair and bright emerald green eyes.

"Harry," she whispered, and before she was even consciously aware of what she was doing, she was in his arms, holding him, and kissing him, and embracing him. She pulled away for a brief moment to stare up into his eyes, the liquid pools of emerald that she so loved.

"How?" He smiled down at her, and kissed her nose.

"Well, Nat, my прекрасный небольшой паук, I promised, didn't I?" She started crying again, but now it was tears of joy, as she let herself be swept up in the passion of having him back. Needless to say, neither of them spoke much that night.

"Nat!" called Harry over the sound of fighting. Thanos had arrived with a fury, and the Avengers were fighting, again.

"Yes, Potter?" she yelled, smiling slightly to herself, thinking that she knew where this was going.

"If we get out of this alive, will you marry me?" She flashed him a cheeky grin and responded:

"Better hope we make it, Potter."

Natasha smiled as she leaned up against the doorway of the small house she and Harry had bought together, listening as Harry sung in Russian as he rocked the small bundle wrapped in blue cloth in his arms.

"Night, lil' guy," said Harry as he tucked the baby back into it's crib. "Little Nicolai Harrison Romanoff-Potter." Natasha sauntered over to him, hips swaying, and let him wrap his arms around her midsection, tilting her head back to kiss.

"Mhmm," she groaned into his lips, and Harry smiled.

"I love you, Nat."

"Promise?" Harry let out a quite laugh, and entwined his pinky finger with hers.

"Always."