"That Time in Budapest"

Welp...this is pretty much it (for this story). Fair Warning: I never promised Happy, or Everything Wrapped Up In A Pretty Bow.

Chapter Eleven: Conflict Resolution is Key

Harry sighed and surreptitiously checked the time, again. Fifteen Merlin-be-Damned minutes. In a pitiful failure of "family bonding," he'd been sharing a pot of tea with Barton and Romanoff, and neither of them had said a damn word to him in fifteen minutes. Harry heard the rustle of Coulson's suit as the man shifted impatiently behind him, and he wondered if this was going to be the moment that the man's Zen finally cracked.

"When the three of you agreed to my suggestion that you should sit and discuss the situation, I imagined that there would be an actual conversation taking place." Not quite the verbal lashing he'd expected, but Harry imagined that that was as close to yelling as the man ever got.

"I don't know what there is to say, really. They...shagged...a bit, she got pregnant, and my mom—Lily—took the baby off her hands. I don't much need someone to take care of me anymore, and if I did, they don't seem much like the parental types...no offense."

Barton didn't say anything, but the look he gave him was enough for Harry to know that, while he wasn't offended, he wasn't exactly flattered, either. Romanoff didn't fucking react, at all, and Harry ticked off one more reason on his mental list why that woman would never be a mother, let alone his.

"The fact remains, Mr. Potter, that you are underage and that your biological parents are living. I know that your circumstances and their positions make a traditional family life impossible, but something has to be worked out."

Harry huffed and pulled out the pack of smokes he'd nabbed from the corner store while the cashier was distracted by his "pretty eyes." Coulson frowned, but he rolled his eyes and backed down when Harry gave him a cheeky smirk and lit up.

A few exaggerated drags later (if only to mess with Agent Zen), and Harry felt his patience return enough to think about what C-man had said. Yeah, so he was still underage and needed a guardian. Yeah, so this was the chance to give the Dursleys the finger forever, and not just while he was in hiding. In an ideal situation, they could all dance into the sunset, tra-la-la-ing, like one, big, happy family. This, however, was not an ideal situation, and he did not fucking tra-la-la, so that would not be happening, here.

"Look, I get why you're doing this. Really. The thing is, I'm not going to fucking get a Happily Ever After, with parents and a family. You know I'm not. If we can all agree to not be assholes to one another for the sake of the 'family' thing, that's fine, but this isn't going to end like some fairy tale. I mean, how would that work? Would I split time between mummy-dearest and Fly-boy, making sure to meet up with him when his wife is out of the house? Honestly, it would be easier just to...not bother."

Harry saw Romanoff's considering look out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but he thought that, perhaps, she'd looked surprised that he could be as cold about it as she was. Like mother, like son, apparently. Barton didn't look happy, per se, but didn't seem to disagree that their situation was one doomed to either crash and burn for all of them, or fail before it had a chance to begin.

Honestly, Harry felt more bad for Coulson than for himself. The man may be his own personal Messenger of Bad Tidings, but he was a decent bloke and looked the most upset of all of them that they were all content to leave things alone. Harry took another drag before he stubbed his cigarette. Taking one last sip of his cold tea, he rose to bring his dishes to the sink, ending his part in the conversation. Honestly, he didn't see how there was much more to be said. Barton and Romanoff had lives and jobs here, on top of the Avengers thing, and Harry had his own war, looming in the horizon. Things weren't going to change, so he saw no use arguing the what-ifs of an impossible situation.

…

Stark stared at the kid's forehead as he concentrated on shielding his cards from his cheating godfather. Though Steve wasn't usually one for gambling, Barton's son had looked like he could use a distraction, so he'd rallied the troops for poker. The Captain smiled as Harry elbowed Mr. Black in the chest as he tried to lean into his side to see his hand. Even if Black was as exasperating as Stark, he at least seemed to care about his godson.

"I swear to effing MERLIN, Siri, but if you don't stop trying to cheat, I'll give Stark those pictures the twins took of you in that dre—" The man, burning red in embarrassment, backed away so quickly that he nearly toppled out of his chair, hands raised in surrender.

"Not necessarily, Harry. You made your point. No need to show anyone, anything."

Steve felt a his mouth curl into a smile as the teenager burst out in the first bit of genuine laughter that he'd heard from him. The kid was too damn subdued for his age; it was a nice change to see him relaxing. Mother-hen. That's what you are...a big mother-hen. It was strange that, after all this time, his inner voice still reminded him of Bucky, playful and just a bit mocking.

Stark being Stark, he couldn't very well let something that interesting go, and soon he was pestering the flustered Black with questions as Harry's composure dissolved into hilarity. Honestly, the chaos was a bit much, but Steve felt it best to just let it be. He recognized the heavy feeling in the air, the feeling of trouble coming, and he knew that before long, peace might be something of the past. So, for now, he'd keep his worries to himself and hope for a future for his friends, and for Harry.

[Epilogue]

Steve looked around at the castle by the lake, awe in his eyes. When Mr. Dumbledore had shown up in the middle of the night to drag Harry, Remus and Black back to England, Steve had elected to go with him. Though he wasn't exactly surprised that Clint and Natasha didn't choose to go, he was sad, all the same. Still, no one ever said that life was fair, so he'd gone to pack a bag after letting the team know where he'd be and how to contact him, when the inevitable shit storm...from whoever, or whatever...came. He trusted his team to take care of the home-front, while he helped out in England. Though he knew this time would be different, that he wasn't saying good-bye for good, he still had a feeling that things were about to get bad, quick. If he could do some good in England and help a kid deal with a position he was intimately familiar with-the position of leader, and Captain-in the meantime, he wasn't going to turn his back on him.

Mr. Dumbledore's wizened voice broke Steve from his dark thoughts. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Captain Rogers. I'm sure your time here will be...eventful."

With a smile that was more a grimace, Steve headed toward the castle, hoping that Harry's war ended better for him than his had.

…

Somewhere in the dark of Albanian forest, Voldemort read the most recent report from his agents in the Department of Mysteries back in London. He was not sure who this Thanos was, or what manner of being he might be to have so many Seers making prophecies about him, but he might just prove useful...

So. That's it for this story. I know this is a cliff-hanger, but this story was only ever meant to be a story about a mission gone wrong that led to the birth of the Wizarding World's savior. I KNOW that there are questions about the war, Voldemort, Thanos left unanswered. Like I said at the top...I never promised Happy, or Pretty Little Bow. HOWEVER...for those who want closure: I am open to someone else writing a sequel. ALL I ASK is that you talk to me, first, to let me know about it.