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62 Clearing The Air
🕑 Added 2025-02-07 18:15:00 +0000 UTCNatasha stirred awake, her senses slowly coming to life as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains. Now that she was here, cocooned in his embrace, the hollow spaces inside her felt complete, with her heart beating in sync with his steady rhythm. Now that she had finally come back to her home, she felt idiotic for sacrificing everything. She promised herself that no matter what happened in the future, she would not let herself be separated from her home.
She turned slightly, careful not to disturb him, but the movement brought her face-to-face with his emerald green eyes—soft, warm, and full of the love just as she remembered them to be. A complete acceptance of who she was regardless of her past. Maybe one day, she would learn to love herself the same way those eyes showed how much they loved her.
Harry was already awake, watching her with that familiar tenderness that made her stomach flutter. “Morning,” she whispered, her voice husky from sleep.
“Morning,” Harry replied, his lips curving into a smile that reached his eyes.
Natasha wiggled closer, tangling her legs with his as she rested a hand against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm. His warmth seeped into her, a soothing balm for the scars the past had left behind.
“You’re staring,” she teased, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
“Can you blame me?” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. “I spent too long waking up without this.”
The vulnerability in his words tugged at her heart. Natasha leaned in, her nose brushing against his as their breaths mingled. His hands slipped around her back, his touch gentle as he pulled her closer, as if afraid she might disappear again.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised softly, her lips ghosting over his.
Taking the lead, she closed the small gap between them, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was unhurried yet filled with everything she couldn’t quite put into words. When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.
Natasha’s fingers glided along Harry’s jawline, tracing the faint stubble that had grown overnight. Slowly, Harry shifted, rolling onto his side to face her fully, his hand brushing a strand of her fiery hair away from her face. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent.
Her breath hitched, a soft, barely audible sound that only he could have noticed in the quiet of their room. In response, she leaned in again, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that started soft and slow but grew deeper, more earnest with every passing second. Her hands slid up his chest, tracing the scars that mapped his skin. She kissed him like she was trying to heal every wound that she had inflicted.
Harry’s arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer. Natasha melted into him as his lips traveled along her jawline, pausing to plant feather-light kisses on the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, her fingers tangling in his unruly hair as he murmured her name like it was a prayer.
Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed as Harry trailed his lips down her neck, his hands exploring her as if committing her to memory all over again. There was no rush, no urgency—only a deep yearning to be close, to savor every moment.
“I love you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as her hands cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to hers.
Harry’s eyes softened, his expression so full of love that it stole her breath. “And I love you, always,” he replied, sealing his promise with a kiss that was tender and all-encompassing.
After what felt like an eternity, Natasha and Harry finally stirred from the sanctuary of their bed. The sunlight streaming through the curtains had grown brighter, signaling the passage of time, but neither seemed in a hurry to part from the warmth of the other.
Natasha stretched languidly, her skin glowing with the aftereffects of their shared morning, her gaze lingering on Harry as he leaned against the headboard. “We should get up before Charles and Dorea start to wonder if we’ve disappeared,” she teased.
Harry chuckled, brushing a hand through his messy black hair. “They’ll be fine. Dorea’s probably got tea brewing, and Charles is likely pretending to read the paper while secretly keeping score of how long we take.”
The thought made Natasha laugh softly, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed, reaching for the oversized shirt Harry had discarded earlier. She slipped it on, the fabric brushing her thighs as she padded toward the bathroom. Harry followed her a moment later, wrapping his arms around her from behind as they caught a glimpse of themselves in the mirror—two people who had found their way back to each other against all odds.
A while later, dressed and refreshed, they made their way down to the dining area. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and breakfast wafted through the air, a welcoming scent that brought a smile to Natasha’s face.
Dorea was seated at the table, a steaming cup of tea in her hand, her dark hair swept back into an elegant twist. She looked up as they entered, her eyes immediately softening. “Well, there you two are,” she said, setting her cup down with a knowing smile. “We were starting to wonder if you planned to join us at all.”
Charles glanced up from his newspaper, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Don’t mind Dorea,” he said with a grin. “She’s just jealous she can’t sleep in anymore.”
“Hardly,” Dorea shot back, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “I just didn’t want the food to get cold.”
Since the Battle of New York and their engagement, Harry and Natasha had chosen to settle in at Herefordshire, with Dorea and Charlus. Their time away from each other had been grueling for both of them and here, in the rolling hills and serene fields, they had found a space to heal and reconnect.
The past month had been a balm for their aching souls by allowing them to rediscover the joy of simply being together. Dorea, ever the doting mother, had insisted on teaching Natasha how to bake, much to Harry’s amusement. He still chuckled at the memory of Natasha, covered in flour, frowning in concentration as she tried to knead dough under Dorea’s watchful eye. “You’re lethal with knives, but hopeless with a rolling pin,” he’d teased, earning a playful glare and a handful of flour tossed in his direction.
Charles, on the other hand, had taken it upon himself to teach Harry and Natasha the finer points of gardening—a pursuit he claimed was essential for anyone staying in the countryside. Natasha had surprised everyone by taking to it quickly, her previous trainings lending themselves well to planting and pruning. Harry, however, had been less adept as he hadn’t gardened normal plants since he had gone to Hogwarts, often ending up with dirt-smudged glasses and a sheepish grin. “At least the roses are thriving,” Charlus had joked one afternoon, clapping Harry on the shoulder as they surveyed the garden.
Evenings were perhaps the most cherished. The four of them would gather in the cozy sitting room, the fireplace crackling softly as Dorea brought out her collection of old records. Harry had often found Natasha humming along to the tunes, her head resting on his shoulder while the four of them shared stories of their youth. Natasha talked about her time in the Red Room, Harry talked about his times in Hogwarts and the Dursleys while Dorea and Charles shared about growing up in a time of the cold war. Being home with the Richards allowed them to enjoy the simplicity of life, to rekindle what they’d had before the breakup, and to build new memories.
As they settled into their seats, the enticing aroma of fried eggs, crispy bacon, and fresh-baked toast wafted up from the plates Dorea set before them. “Dig in, before it gets cold,” she urged, though her smile suggested she already knew they wouldn’t hesitate.
The four of them enjoyed the meal in a comfortable silence. The occasional clink of cutlery on porcelain was accompanied by the soft rustle of Charlus flipping through his newspaper, though Harry suspected the older man wasn’t really reading. Once the plates were empty and the tea cups drained, Charlus folded his newspaper and leaned back in his chair. He adjusted his glasses, fixing Harry and Natasha with a look that was equal parts warmth and seriousness.
“Well,” he began, his deep voice cutting gently through the quiet. “Now that we’re all settled, I think it’s time we had a proper family discussion. Don’t you agree, Dorea?”
Dorea nodded, her expression softening as her gaze shifted to Harry and Natasha. “It’s overdue, really. There are some things that need saying, and now feels like the right time.”
Harry exchanged a quick glance with Natasha, who gave him a subtle nod of encouragement.
Charlus gestured toward the sitting room, where the sunlight spilled across the well-worn furniture in warm, golden hues. “Let’s move this to somewhere a bit more comfortable, shall we?”
Charles leaned forward slightly in his chair, resting his hands on his knees as he regarded them both “So, the two of you have sorted things out now?” Charles asked. “With everything that just happened, Dorea and I didn’t want to pry too much into your personal affairs. But as your honorary parents, we care about the both of you, and we want to be sure something like what happened before doesn’t happen again.”
Harry shifted slightly in his seat, but before he could respond, Natasha reached over, intertwining her fingers with his. “No, Charles,” Harry replied with a smile. “We’ve sorted things out. We’ve been honest with each other, and we’re both committed to not letting that kind of miscommunication happen again.” Natasha nodded in agreement beside him.
Dorea, who had been watching them, folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “That’s good to hear,” she said. “But if you don’t mind telling us, what exactly happened between the two of you?” She paused, her dark eyes flicked between Harry and Natasha. “And I don’t want half-truths from either of you,” she added. “You’ve kept us in the dark long enough about a lot of things. We understand why you did it, but this time nothing but the truth.”
Harry felt a twinge of guilt under her gaze. Natasha glanced at Harry again, this time her expression carrying a note of an apology. “They’re right,” she said softly. “We owe them an explanation.”
“Our issues started because I withheld information about myself from Harry,” Natasha began, her voice steady but tinged with regret.
Charlus tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Of you being a spy?” he asked, seeking clarification.
Natasha shook her head. “No, Harry knew I was a spy from the moment we met,” she said with a small, bittersweet smile. “He was the one who helped me when I was in a difficult situation, who gave me the courage to defect and start over. That was never the issue.”
She paused, her gaze dropping to her hands folded neatly in her lap. “It was about something I should have talked to him about but didn’t.” Taking a deep breath, she looked up, meeting their eyes. “I can’t have children. The Red Room ensured that when they trained me.”
Both Dorea and Charlus nodded quietly, their expressions compassionate, letting her continue at her own pace.
“I convinced myself that Harry deserved someone who could give him a different future” Natasha explained, her voice growing quieter. “Instead of talking to him, instead of trusting him to decide what he wanted, I took that decision away from him. I thought I was doing the right thing by ending things, but I was wrong.”
Her voice faltered slightly, and Harry reached over, placing his hand gently on hers. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice giving her strength.
“I told you then, and I’ll tell you now—and for the rest of our lives if I have to,” Harry said firmly, his emerald eyes locking onto Natasha’s with unwavering sincerity. “As long as we’re together, I don’t care that you can’t have kids. If that’s something we want someday, we’ll adopt. What matters is you, Natasha. Always.”
Natasha gave him a small, grateful smile, but the sadness in her eyes lingered. “I know that, Harry. I’ve always known that,” she replied softly. Her voice wavered, her vulnerability slipping through as she continued. “But it wasn’t just about that. Deep down, it’s always been about me not finding myself worthy of you. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I thought you didn’t need to settle for someone as broken and dirty as me.”
The words hung heavy in the air, the pain behind them almost palpable. Harry tightened the grip of his hand on hers. However, before he could respond, Dorea leaned forward, her voice breaking the silence.
“Stop that this instant,” she scolded. Natasha’s gaze snapped to her, startled by the sudden firmness in her voice. “Regardless of the past you’ve had, no daughter of mine thinks of herself that way. Do you hear me?”
Dorea’s eyes softened as she looked at Natasha warmly. “You are not broken, Natasha, and you are certainly not dirty. You are brave, capable, and worthy of every ounce of happiness life has to offer. Harry sees it, and so do I. So stop doubting yourself.”
Natasha blinked, her throat tightening as the weight of Dorea’s words sank in. She glanced at Harry, who gave her a reassuring nod.
“And that goes for you too, Harry,” Dorea continued, her gaze flicking towards him. “Neither of you should ever think you’re not enough—for each other, or for yourselves. You’ve been through too much to let thoughts like that fester.”
“Yes, Dorea,” Natasha and Harry replied in unison.
Charlus, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat. “Dorea’s right, you know. Life’s too short to spend it second-guessing your worth, especially when the two of you clearly belong together.”
Natasha exhaled slowly, feeling an unexpected warmth settle over her. In this house, in this moment, she realized she wasn’t just Harry’s fiancée—she was truly a part of this family.
“So,” Charles said, crossing his arms and fixing them both with a mock-stern glare. “Are the two of you finally going to start acting like the adults you are, instead of melodramatic teenagers?”
“Yes, Charles,” Harry and Natasha replied in unison, their tones sheepish but laced with amusement.
Dorea smirked, hiding her grin behind her teacup. “Good. Now that’s settled, maybe we can enjoy some peace and quiet for a change.”
The family moment was abruptly interrupted by the chime of the doorbell echoing through the house. All four exchanged puzzled glances.
“Were we expecting anyone?” Dorea asked, rising slightly from her seat.
“I don’t think so,” Harry replied, already making his way toward the door with Natasha close behind.
As they opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, they froze in sheer astonishment. Lined up on the quiet country road outside the Richards’ home stood the entire 22 SAS regiment, each soldier in full uniform, their boots polished to a shine.
For a moment, Harry thought he was imagining it, but then the commanding officer stepped forward, snapping a crisp salute.
“Attention!” he barked, and in perfect unison, the regiment straightened, their voices ringing out loud and clear. “Congratulations, Captain Potter and Lady Captain, on your engagement!”
The sheer absurdity of the scene struck Harry first, and his stunned expression quickly gave way to a broad grin. Natasha, on the other hand, blinked twice before bursting into laughter, her shoulders shaking as she struggled to hold back tears of amusement.
Behind them, Charles and Dorea peeked out through the doorway. Charles took one look at the regiment and let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s not something you see every day.” Dorea folded her arms, shaking her head with a bemused smile.
Harry finally found his voice, his grin widening as he addressed the regiment. “You know, when I left the army, I didn’t expect the entire regiment to show up on my doorstep. Did you guys just went AWOL for me? You guys might get some real big trouble for this”
“Yes sir, everyone took leave for this special occasion, sir!” one of the soldiers called out, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Can’t have you finally getting hitched without the lads giving you a proper send-off! Also we informed Colonel Thompon where we were going. He has asked us to inform you that you and Lady Captain should visit him soon.”
The regiment broke into laughter, the formality momentarily slipping as they cheered and clapped for the couple. Natasha leaned into Harry, still chuckling as she murmured, “This might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”
“High praise,” Harry teased, slipping an arm around her shoulders as he turned back to the soldiers. “Alright, you lot,” he said, his voice carrying a note of fond exasperation. “At ease, before you scare the neighbors into thinking there’s an invasion.”
The afternoon quickly transformed into a celebration as Harry’s old squad whisked the couple off to the Rustic Hearth. The pub was soon filled with laughter and the hum of animated conversation as the soldiers started trading stories and jokes as mugs of ale and glasses of whiskey were passed around. Harry and Natasha sat at the center of it all, their cheeks aching from the sheer amount of smiling as each member of the regiment came up individually to offer congratulations.
“Captain Potter,” one of the younger soldiers said, his voice tinged with admiration as he raised his glass. “You always barked ‘Constant Vigilance,’ how is it that you weren’t vigilant when Lady Captain stole your heart?” eliciting a laughter among the crowd.
Natasha laughed at Harry’s expense, but her attention was quickly drawn to a gruff older soldier who approached with a surprisingly gentle smile.
“Lady Captain,” he said, bowing his head slightly in respect. “You’ve got our boy here straightened out, haven’t you?”
Natasha smirked, playing along. “Oh, it’s a full-time job, I assure you.”
The table erupted in laughter, and the soldier gave her a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good. Keep at it, ma’am. He’s worth it.”
Between the well-wishes and the endless toasts, Harry and Natasha shared glances at each other. It was overwhelming, yes, but also heartwarming in a way neither of them had quite expected.
As the day wore on, the rowdy group of soldiers continued their celebrations, laughter and clinking glasses filling the pub. Plates of hearty food and rounds of drinks made their way around the room, adding to the boisterous atmosphere. Amidst the revelry, Sergeant Lewis approached Harry, his demeanor noticeably more somber than the rest of his comrades.
“Captain,” Lewis said quietly. “May I have a word in private?”
Harry immediately picked up on the shift in tone. “Of course,” he replied, guiding Lewis to a quieter corner of the pub, away from the noise and distractions.
“What’s going on, Lewis?” Harry asked, leaning in slightly to hear him better.
Lewis hesitated, glancing over his shoulder as if ensuring no one else was listening. “It’s about Corporal James,” he began, his tone heavy. “After your retirement, he was injured a couple of years ago during an ambush in Kandahar. Lost his leg never quite the same after that.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Of course I remember James. You think just because I left the army, I won’t remember all the people that have served with me in the army.” Harry scolded. “Anyways, What about him?”
Lewis exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he continued. “Well, he was struggling after the injury both mentally and physically. But then a few months back, he told me he’d been approached by some U.S. based company. Said they were recruiting him for some kind of experimental program. He didn’t share much and kept it all pretty hush-hush but he was excited. It felt like he finally had something to look forward to again.”
“What happened?” Harry pressed, his concern growing.
“That’s just it,” Lewis admitted, his voice dropping further. “I don’t know, Captain. He stopped answering my calls, stopped showing up at the places we’d meet. It’s been weeks now, and I haven’t heard a word from him. It’s like he just vanished.”
Harry’s jaw tightened as he processed the information. “Have you told anyone else about this?”
“I tried,” Lewis said with a bitter edge to his voice. “Brought it up to the higher-ups, but since James is retired, they couldn’t care less. He’s not their problem anymore.”
Lewis looked up at Harry, his expression earnest. “I don’t know what’s going on, Captain, but something doesn’t feel right. I think he’s gotten himself mixed up with a bad crowd or worse. You’re the only one I trust to do something about this.”
Harry let out a slow breath, glancing out at the lively pub, where Natasha was laughing with the soldiers. He turned back to Lewis. “I’ll look into it,” Harry assured him. “You did the right thing coming to me, Lewis. I’ll find out what’s happened to James.”
Lewis relaxed slightly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t fade entirely. “Thank you, Captain. I know you’ve moved on from the army, but… I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
Harry placed a reassuring hand on Lewis’s shoulder. “We look out for our own, always.”
