Author: StarLight Massacre
Title: Damaged Bodies, Growing Lives, Building Families.
Warning: Slash, violence, M/M, language, blood, Mpreg, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, knotting, graphic torture and dubious consent (One scene only)
Pairing: Clinton Barton/Harry Potter
Summary: Harry's painstakingly rebuilt world is destroyed once again; then he meet's Clint Barton, the sharp eyed archer from the renowned Avengers team. Left broken and pregnant, can he be put back together again? Does he even want to be fixed after everything he's been subjected to? Or will his love for his baby and the support of the Avengers pull him through the very lowest point of his life?
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter or the Marvel universe; all rights go to J. K. Rowling and Marvel comics. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.
Damaged Bodies, Growing Lives, Building Families
Chapter One – Negligence and Breathing Exercises
Harry James Potter, aged twenty, sighed once again as he scratched his forehead lightly. He stared at the open folder in irritation. He didn't want to be here, least of all after hours, but then if he had wanted a nice, normal nine to five job, he wouldn't have chosen to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Nothing with S.H.I.E.L.D, standing for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, was ever normal and perhaps it was that that let Harry fit right in.
His watch clicked over to eleven at night and he sighed, which was partly a groan of frustration and annoyance. He hated top secret information that required his immediate attention. Well, strictly it wasn't his attention it required, but his superior's, but as the man was disgustingly lazy, he delegated it to Harry, even though Harry was very sure his eyes were not supposed to be looking at this information. He was a very young, junior agent, who wasn't even legal to drink in this country, no, he was very sure this folder wasn't meant for his eyes, or any of the other folders that had been delegated to him in the past.
Turning the page he nibbled on the end of his pen as he read, moving his notepad closer to him before bending over it to scribble some notes in preparation for his final report, which had to be on his superior's desk by seven in the morning. He smothered a yawn behind his hand, his third in as many minutes. Twenty years old he might be, but he was suffering from the barrage of consecutive very late nights and the even earlier mornings, coffee and potions could only help him so much and he was sure his health was deteriorating because of it. Madam Pomfrey would have flayed him alive.
Thinking of the stern, yet kindly matron brought back memories that Harry would much rather forget, of a time he would much rather forget. He swallowed the painful memories of the war and subconsciously rubbed his left hip, where a permanent scar remained as an unforgiving, painful reminder to all that had happened and all that he had lost. The war had taken everything from him; everything but his own life and sometimes he wished fervently that that hadn't been the case. He would have gladly swapped places with every single person who had died at Hogwarts that day, after everything had been finished and the dust had settled and the cost of the war became apparent, he wished it had ended differently, if not for those who were already dead, then for himself. He wished that he had had the mercy of joining them.
Clenching a hand and forcing his mind to go blank, Harry sighed heavily as he realised he had been lost in thought for twenty minutes and he still had a quarter of the last folder to still read through. Pulling a disgusted face he started once more from the top of the page, having forgotten what he had previously read, jotting down relevant notes and paragraphs to do the write up report for his superior to hand over to his superiors so that it looked like the man had actually done some work in his life. Harry snorted at that thought, since he had arrived here as a fresh eyed intern a year and a half ago, he had immediately been bullied and roped into doing jobs and reports that he knew he wasn't even cleared to know existed, let alone be allowed to read through every scrap of Intel S.H.I.E.L.D had on whatever top secret project his superior was supposed to be doing that month.
Leaning back to stretch out his aching muscles, Harry took a quick gulp of cool coffee, not even caring that it tasted foul when it was warm, let alone almost stone cold, he just needed something to wake him up as much as possible, before he started reading once more, smothering yet another yawn.
Harry had not made very many friends since he had come to America, and it wasn't any wonder really, he had come only a few months after the war had ended and he hadn't felt much like socialising with anyone at that time; yet as soon as he decided that perhaps it might do him more good to spend a few hours out of the house that he had been holed up in for months on end by getting a small intern job, rather than staying cooped up and miserable all day, he ended up overworking himself every single day to the point of collapse sometimes, which again left him absolutely no time to socialise outside of a few polite greetings to his colleagues.
It was hard not having any real human contact and he was lonely, he would finish work very late, likely in the early hours of the morning, he would go back to an empty house that he didn't see enough of to call his home, to get a few hours' sleep in a bed too big and cold for just him and he would be back in work for seven. It was even harder because he was a confirmed, classified Omega, he wanted human contact, preferably from an Alpha, but a Beta would do, hell even another Omega would do, he just wanted someone to talk to, someone to touch, it didn't have to be sexual.
Closing his eyes he breathed deeply, he didn't know what was wrong with him today, he was more distracted than usual and it would mean he would be here for much longer if he didn't get a lid on it. It was probably due to the fact that this week would have been his preheat week, if he hadn't been religiously taking the suppressants that were required of all Omega S.H.I.E.L.D agents he would be having a heat period in the coming few weeks. Unfortunately he could only take the short term suppressants, the ones that didn't have Tarcolite Ormeloxirone in them, which meant that every single long term suppressant was unavailable to him and he had to remember to swallow his suppressant tablet every single week, at near enough the same time no less, or he wouldn't be protected, a far cry from the simple injection which would have protected him from bimonthly heats, as well as his week of preheat, for an entire year that the other Omega agents were required to have.
Growling at himself and his scatter brain, Harry forced himself to once again put pen to paper after a check of his watch revealed that it was now twenty minutes to midnight, at this rate he wouldn't be getting out of here until gone three, god forbid he have another night like the week before, where he had finished his reading research for his final report at quarter past five and realised that if he walked home like he usually did he would barely get his foot in the door before having to come back to work, so he had curled up under his jacket, under his desk and not for the first time either.
A superior agent he didn't know, had never worked with, and was very sure he had never seen before, named Agent Coulson had smiled kindly at him when Harry had emerged from under his desk early the next morning, very tousled, rumpled and tired, and went searching the break room for the strongest coffee he could find. An hour later Harry had returned to his tiny office to find a very large, very hot, very strong take away cup of premium coffee on his desk. He had smiled and seized the gift, likely from the mysterious Agent Coulson, with both hands and devoured the coffee as he set to work once again on his research and reading after only two hours of sleep.
Harry smiled as he remembered the kind Agent and wished he had a superior like that, he doubted very much that Agent Coulson would have clocked off early, leaving his junior agent to stay in the office all night, doing reports that he should be doing personally and leaving very sensitive, top secret information in the hands of a junior agent who was only twenty years old. It was a good thing that Harry was neither incompetent, out to destroy the world, or to sell highly sensitive, top secret defence plans to belligerent countries.
The thought had passed through his mind several times that S.H.I.E.L.D was testing his trustworthiness with false leads and fake plans to see what he would do with that sort of information in his hands, but it had been over a year now, surely they wouldn't still be testing him? But he wouldn't put it past the upper brass to be doing exactly that, but what kind of idiot did they take him for? Did they honestly expect him to believe that they handed all of their interns top secret defence plans for the country, schematics of new, prototype weaponry and floor plans of undercover S.H.I.E.L.D buildings? Surely no government agency was that stupid? Even the most moronic of interns would have smelt a trap and legged it.
Cursing himself again as his watch clicked over to midnight, Harry resigned himself to staying all night once again. He hated the temporary suppressant tablets; sometimes he fully believed that it would mess him up less to just let him have a week's holiday and let his body go onto its natural heat period, but then that brought up the whole preheat period he was currently stuck in, which only happened with the temporary tablets because his life was never easy, and the whole, if he found an Alpha he could get pregnant thing, because of course the same ingredient he was intolerant to was also in all the emergency contraceptive tablets, because his luck was just that bad.
Scribbling more important notes down, Harry was forced to stop as a huge yawn forced his eyes closed, which then watered when he opened them again. It had been a long week, hell it had been a long month and he wasn't sure how long he could keep this up for. This past year was nothing if not intolerable, people couldn't live on just a few hours of sleep every night, they couldn't, it was impossible, but somehow, a year on, he was still doing it and still letting his superior reap all the benefits of his hard, exhausting work.
Tugging on his hair to wake himself up a bit, Harry turned the page and read a bit, before stopping to take notes, before carrying on. It was two in the morning before he finished the final folder and he pushed it aside, had a quick stretch while lamenting his long empty coffee cup, before he pulled the official report book towards him, opening it to the first page and taking a steadying breath, he couldn't make a single mistake or he'd end up having to write the entire report again in a fresh booklet, of which he only had two left to last him next month as well, the worst mistake he had made had been a few months back, when he had rushed the end of the report to get home earlier and he had made a huge mistake on the very last page of his report, or rather the report his superior should have been writing himself, and he had had to start all over again from the beginning. That had been the first time Harry had had to stay in the S.H.I.E.L.D building overnight and much to his frustration, it was becoming more of the norm over finishing on time and getting to go home with all the other agents.
Thankfully Harry did not make any mistakes in his report this time and he breathed out a sigh of relief, leaving the signature area of the report booklet blank for his superior to sign in the morning, he checked his watch and let out a part groan, part sigh as he saw it was gone half five in the morning, far too late to even bother wasting the energy walking home.
Dragging his jacket morosely from the back of his chair, Harry set his watch for seven in the morning before he slipped under his desk and covered himself as best as he could with his jacket, wishing that S.H.I.E.L.D had had the forethought to get a plusher carpet for their main office Headquarters so that maybe he wouldn't be completely uncomfortable as he tried to rest on it. Harry was asleep almost before he finished finding a relatively comfy position on the floor, completely forgetting that he wasn't even supposed to have been in work that day or the following day, never knowing that several floors above him, there was another, more senior agent, awake also, watching him through the security cameras that liberally littered the building.
Harry was woken up by the alarm he had set on his watch only an hour and ten minutes later and he groaned pathetically, dragging himself out from under his desk, holding onto his jacket as he crawled to his feet using his chair.
He blinked owlishly around himself, automatically falling into his lifelong habit of trying to flatten his hair fruitlessly, before he slipped his rumpled jacket on, picked up his finished report and the folders and case files that contained the information he had written it from and carried them into his superior's office, leaving them in the middle of the desk neatly before heading to the nearest bathroom to clean himself up a bit, before making a beeline to the break room and hunting for something, anything, to wake him up and make him feel less dead.
He ignored the other agent in the break room until he spoke to him, making Harry peer closely at the man and realise it was senior Agent Coulson, the kind man who had given him that gourmet coffee a week ago.
"Another all-nighter, Agent Potter?" The man tsked. "Here, have a blueberry muffin, you must be hungry."
Harry stared longingly at the coffee he was waiting to drip through the percolator, before obeying the older, more experienced agent.
"You don't want that swill, here." Agent Coulson pushed another very large takeaway coffee cup towards him and Harry was ashamed at how fast and greedily he fell on it and the blueberry muffin that was handed to him from the paper bag. It was with a pang of realisation that he remembered that the last time he had eaten anything was two days before, he hadn't left his office at all over the last two days except to get more coffee, for bathroom breaks and to go home to get a few hours' sleep before coming back to the office, he hadn't once thought of food in that time.
"Thank you Sir." He replied sincerely and gratefully.
The man gave him such a kind, understanding smile that it forced an answering, if tired smile from Harry, who took out a couple of crumpled notes from his pocket to give the man, who waved him away.
"It's more than alright." Agent Coulson explained. "The coffee was from my usual place and they regularly give me free cups and the muffins were from a friend. I can't say I'm fond of blueberry though, so perhaps you could do me the favour of eating the rest?"
Harry got the feeling that the Agent was not being truthful, but before he could decline, Agent Coulson was gone with a polite goodbye, leaving the bag of tempting muffins just sitting on the table. Harry knew that as soon as his colleagues arrived, there would be none left for Agent Coulson anyway, so he took them with a smile at one man's kindness and generosity and hived them off, along with the coffee, to hide in his office, which he saw more of than anywhere else, waiting for his boss to come in, sign the report he had worked all night on and had read and researched about for the last month, as his own, hand it into his superiors and collect another top secret project for Harry to slave over for the next month. He didn't even realise that his scrap pile of notes from his last project had vanished from his desk.
Agent Phil Coulson reported to the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, Nick Fury's, office and slipped the several pieces of paper that he had asked for onto the desk in front of the man's hands.
He immediately picked them up and scanned through them, picking up the first report booklet on the large stack to the right of him and opening it to a random page. He snorted at what he found, comparing the handwriting with disgust as he realised the small, neat, slightly cursive letters matched, he pulled another report booklet from the pile on his left and opened it to another random page and compared it to the scrap paper he held in his opposite hand, his face turning to thunder as again the letters matched. He dug in the pile of report booklets until he found the one that was dated as the oldest, fourteen months ago and flipped it open. His hands clenched automatically as again the handwriting from senior Agent Bartholomew Nasri's report booklets matched the handwriting of the most junior agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, Harry James Potter, a twenty year old young man who last year had been an introductory intern! As one last test he pulled out a report book, this time from a pile on his right, dated two years ago, before Agent Potter had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. The messy, indecipherably smudged, overly large letters mocked him from the page.
"You were right." Fury growled to Coulson. "He's been making the junior Agent write every single report, putting the safety of this entire country at risk! Handing him top secret, sensitive and potentially dangerous information freely! This was for his eyes only, who knows what that man could have leaked out due to his inertia."
"I thought it was odd." Coulson replied calmly. "A junior Agent's work load isn't strenuous enough to keep them here overnight, for any reason. My only regret is that I didn't pick up on it sooner; Agent Potter has been looking terrible for months now. I assumed problems at home and didn't like to pry, but when I found he had slept in the building overnight, I investigated further and found that it hadn't been the first time. I have reviewed all relevant security footage and I believe that Agent Nasri has been making Agent Potter read all the case files handed to him as well as writing up all the final reports, he doesn't seem to have done any of the work handed to him himself since Agent Potter arrived at the agency."
"I can see that Agent Coulson." Fury snapped, slapping the report booklet back on top of the pile. "How was this able to happen?!"
"It seems that as a senior Agent, Bartholomew was assumed to have been doing his job correctly and following protocol to the letter, no one questioned him or his habits. I have been asking around the department and some of the agents didn't know there was an Agent Potter in their department. Those who did know of him said he was a hermit and took keeping himself to himself to a new level. Some believed he was just a very unsociable, very private man and didn't bother him, others thought it was because they were Alphas or strong Betas and that he didn't want to mix with them because he's an Omega, they didn't want to invoke the agency's harsh policy on Omega harassment, so they left him alone, though they admit that it is hard to leave him be when he slips into a preheat, his increased production of pheromones distract them and they didn't want to tempt themselves by getting closer."
Fury scrubbed his face in anger and frustration.
"As soon as Nasri is in this building, I want him in this office!" He bit out, looking through the booklets to see what information Potter had at his disposal. He did not like what he saw and his mouth pulled into a snarl. "These are very dangerous topics for a twenty year old, junior agent to have in his possession! If anyone at all finds out that Agent Potter has such an extensive, in depth knowledge on these topics then our enemies have found our weak link!"
"No one in his department knew what he was working on or that he was doing his superior's work and not his own, I will look into it more and dig deeper to see if there is any whisper that any agent, secretary or cleaner in this building had knowledge of what Agent Potter was doing or suspect at what knowledge he has, until we can be sure, I suggest a subtle twenty-four hour protection detail for Agent Potter, just to be safe."
Fury nodded and breathed in deeply and laced his fingers together tightly. How this had been going on in his agency building for eighteen or so months without his knowledge he had no idea and it made him even angrier. If anything happened to Agent Potter now as a result of this foolish neglect it would fall squarely on his shoulders as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D and he couldn't let that happen.
A staticky female voice over the intercom on his desk had him mentally preparing himself for battle; he wouldn't allow his senior agents to exploit his junior agents in such a way. Agent Nasri had endangered Agent Potter's life and put the security of America under threat and until they knew for certain that Agent Potter wasn't in any danger, he would have to be put on a full protection detail.
'Agent Nasri is in the building Director Fury.' His secretary's voice came over the intercom.
Fury pressed the button on the intercom device and replied to the woman on the other end. "Thank you Heather, have Agent Nasri come immediately to my office."
Fury sat back and calmed himself, he wanted to interrogate the agent first, he wanted to know what the agent thought he was doing passing such folders of information to any junior agent he wished, though what got him more was that Agent Potter had been an intern when he had first started writing these final reports. What sort of bumbling, lazy bastard got his department's intern to write his final reports on information that had trustingly been handed to him as a long standing senior agent which had been for his eyes only!
A knock on his office door had Fury calling out a neutral grant of permission to enter and Bartholomew Nasri came into the room, all smiles and genial happiness. He had another report booklet in his hands, the same report booklet that Agent Potter had spent the entire night writing out and had left on his desk that morning.
"This is a surprise Director Fury; usually I leave my final reports with your lovely deputy, Maria."
"You have done such a brilliant job with your reports over the past year that I wanted to congratulate you for taking my advice and putting more effort into them. You obviously took our talk a few years ago to heart, your reports are fuller and contain everything that's needed and are never a minute late."
Agent Nasri puffed up at the praise and handed the newest final report booklet over and Fury scanned it, sharing a subtle look with Agent Coulson, they again recognised the familiar handwriting of Agent Potter with Agent Nasri's signature at the bottom of the last page.
"I was doing a customary check of all senior Agents files, yours told me that you have a son whose birthday is coming up, is that correct?"
"Yes, my youngest son Elijah, he'll be seven. A right chip off the old block that one." The man boasted proudly.
"If you would like to take his birthday week off, as a reward for all your hard work, you may."
The agent looked rightfully shocked. "I…that would be wonderful Director, thank you."
Fury held back the smirk that wanted to break out as he handed the Agent a pen and a slip of paper. "All you have to do is put your request in writing, we'll both sign it and then you can hand it into Heather on your way out."
The Agent didn't even suspect a trap as he wrote out the request and signed his name at the bottom of the slip of paper. Fury took it back and mentally compared the handwriting to the reports. It didn't even come close to matching the recent reports, but the ones from before Agent Potter arrived, those reports matched the slip.
"Tell me Agent Nasri, what do you think of the agents in your department?" Fury asked as he made a show of checking that his personal fountain pen had ink, playing at making polite small talk.
"Some of them are pretty useless, lazy the lot of them. They rush through their work just to get home or to the bars."
"What about that new junior agent, Potter? How is he settling in from being an intern?"
"Fine as well as I can tell, I don't know much about him to be honest Sir."
"I bet you wish you did though, don't you Agent? Every senior agent wishes to have a classified Omega in their department." Fury gave a knowing smirk to the flushing agent, who seemed bolstered by the Director's words.
"Well I don't think there is an Agent in this building who hasn't thought of bending him over his desk, but the effect on me is quite mild Sir, I'm a classified Beta, so his preheat pheromones don't bother me as much, though I'm sure the Alphas feel it worse, some of them have complained he distracts them from their work, but I can't do anything about it with the strict agency protocol. Things were better when Omegas weren't allowed in the workplace, but I suppose there's nothing anyone can do about the laws that state we have to give them equality."
"But still, he's a very pretty boy, isn't he?"
"I think it's the eyes Sir, I'd do him face to face just to see those eyes in the heat of the moment."
Fury nodded as if he were agreeing and actively worked to stop his hand from clenching around the expensive pen as he signed his name. Omegas in his agency were to be treated with more respect than pieces of meat, though he knew it happened elsewhere, no Omega had been forced against their will in his agency, he made sure every single one of them were injected with suppressants, on time and within the medical bay of the agency by his nurses, all except for Agent Potter, who, it emerged very soon after his arrival at the agency, was allergic to Tarcolite Ormeloxirone and was only able to take short term tablets, but the boy had not once been late for a single tablet and the nurses all loved him and only had good things to say about him in his medical records.
"Wish your son a happy birthday from me Agent Nasri, enjoy your time off."
The man thanked him and left soon after and once the door closed Fury turned to Coulson with an eye spitting fire.
"I want that man suspended without pay. He is to be investigated fully and I want his discriminating ass out of my agency."
Coulson nodded his head and made a note of it in a small electronic notepad, made and produced by Stark.
"I want Agent Potter in here now; I want him on supervised duties and with a four man, twenty-four hour protection detail effective immediately."
"Who do you want on his protection detail?" Coulson asked.
"You for a start, I want you in charge of his protection detail and his supervision, I won't have anything happen to such a junior agent through the stupidity and bone idleness of a senior agent. I want Agent Barton on his detail and at least two other trusted Agents. I'll leave that up to you, do you think Barton can handle this?"
"I've been his handler since he came to this agency Sir, we've worked together for years, I can say with certainty that he'll perform this task adequately, even if he does get bored and restless he will never abandon his detail."
Fury nodded and breathed in deeply; he contacted Heather through the com system and asked her to get Agent Potter into his office immediately. She commed him back ten minutes later, sounding breathless and harried.
'I'm sorry Director Fury, Agent Potter is no longer in the building, his colleagues say that their supervisor, Agent Nasri, let him go home.'
Fury controlled the urge to fire Nasri on the spot and breathed deeply through his nose. "Coulson, find out where he lives, go and get him, we need him under protection until the investigation clears him as being under no threat from enemy forces."
Agent Coulson nodded and slipped from the room calmly, he would pull up Agent Potter's, really quite bare, file and check his address, he'd find the little Omega Agent, no matter where he was.
Harry was so immensely happy that his superior had been in such a good mood. He had taken one look at Harry, smiled a really creepy smile at him and told him he could go home.
Harry hadn't questioned it, though he'd be cautious around his superior from now on, he didn't trust that smile. He had been in the break room with some colleagues, getting his second coffee of the day when his superior decided to give him the day off, some colleagues, who didn't know him at all, began accusing him under their breaths of sleeping with the man because he was an Omega. Harry had turned around and told them pointedly that he had worked yesterday when it wasn't his shift and he was still here today, again even though it wasn't his shift. That had shut them both up and he had smirked to himself at getting one over on them, though he was put out to remember only then that it wasn't his day to work, he could have gone home at five that morning after all, he wasn't due back until the following day.
Harry walked home slowly, but surely, he was too tired to do anything other than plod along, rubbing his itchy eyes and yawn every other step. He bumped into a lamppost and grunted at his unawareness of his own surroundings. He was so going to spend the day in bed catching up on some much needed sleep and curse anyone who tried to disturb him before tomorrow morning at least.
He was just turning onto his street when a black, cloth bag fell over his head and an arm held him tightly around his neck, crushing him to a chest that was so much bigger than him and cutting off his breathing too, he struggled and tried to force his tired body to lash out, but someone picked up his feet and he was in the back of a van before his body could build up any adrenaline to use.
Panic flooded through him, was this a S.H.I.E.L.D test or was it real? Why did these people want him? What were they going to do to him and where were they taking him?
He tried to breathe deeply through the black bag and keep calm as his arms and legs were tied together and bound uncomfortably, likely with rope, it felt too heavy and bulky for it to be plastic ties. This was all bringing back terrible memories of the war that he would have much rathered not be dragged up again, but he tried not to panic, if this was a test, panicking would most obviously cause him to fail. Instead he lay where he had been dumped, he didn't wriggle, didn't try to test his bonds, he breathed deeply and calmly, but he couldn't stop his racing heart or the light quiver that ran through his tensed muscles.
He tried not to make a noise, tried to stay still, but as the powerful van swung wide around a corner and sent Harry sliding into the side of the van, which really hurt, he couldn't help the pained grunt that slipped out of his throat.
Biting his lip, Harry curled up as much as his bonds allowed him to help protect him more if the van took another wide turn. He tried counting, trying to see how many minutes from his street he was travelling, but he couldn't concentrate, he could easily make no outward sign of panic, but inside he was a mess, his mind travelling a mile a minute as he tried to figure something, anything, out about why it was him in this van and not someone else.
Agent Phil Coulson arrived at Harry's small suburban house as quickly as he could within the speed limit, he didn't need to draw any unneeded attention to himself, or to Agent Potter.
He had looked out for the young twenty year old on the streets, but he didn't know the route the boy usually took home, but it seemed logical to assume that the boy would take the quickest route home in the state of exhaustion he had been in that morning.
He slipped out of the car and everything seemed calm and normal on the street. He made his way to number eighteen and knocked crisply, but loudly on the door. He knocked several times with increasing force and volume, just in case Agent Potter was fast asleep, but when he still didn't get an answer, he took out a small flip book of tools from his pocket and twisted two delicate, metal instruments together, looking up and down the street, as well as at the neighbouring windows, before picking the lock on the front door and stepping inside.
He looked around curiously at the bare, impersonal house, but the first thing he noticed that there was a pair of running shoes off to the side of the front door, but not the shoes that Agent Potter wore to work.
Moving further into the house, he cleared every downstairs room, taking the time to look for the missing pair of shoes, the shoulder bag Agent Potter used to carry paperwork in, or the jacket he had taken to work. He did find a very large portrait over the fireplace in the front room, of a very pretty, redheaded woman with Agent Potter's unique and rather lovely eyes and a tall, handsome man with the same incredibly tousled, jet black hair, which put in his mind that perhaps the constant messy state of Agent Potter's hair was its natural state and not a trendy statement. These people could only be Agent Potter's parents, which his file had clinically labelled as deceased.
He moved back out into the hallway, his gun still held tightly, but aimed at the floor as he headed silently up the stairs, perhaps Agent Potter had headed right to his bedroom as soon as he had gotten home before taking off his shoes and jacket, he had been very tired after all.
He cleared the untouched bathroom, two spare, empty rooms and came to the last door on the upper floor, which was ajar. He slipped his hand onto the door handle and threw the door open against the wall, clearing the room with his gun.
He sighed as what had been growing in his heart and mind was confirmed. Agent's Potter's bed was made up and not slept in, nothing in the room was out of place and there were no shoes, no satchel, no jacket and no Agent Potter.
Phil sighed and tucked his gun back into his holster and pulled out his phone instead. He called Fury even as his eyes found the photo of a younger looking Agent Potter standing between two people taller than him, a red headed man with freckles and a pretty woman with curly brown hair, they were all smiling, all with arms around one another, and for the first time it made him wonder which one of those two people he would have to contact with the missing persons notification.
"Fury." The Director answered curtly.
"He's not here Director." Phil replied softly. "Agent Potter never made it home."
Fury cursed loudly and barked orders to his secretary through his intercom before speaking to him again. "The last project given to Nasri was about the Avengers, if that information gets out, along with everything else Potter has been informed of over the last year and a half, this entire country will go down in flames, we need to find Agent Potter as quickly as possible, I'm sending out several Agent's on scouting missions, I need you back here Coulson, I need you to find out who in this building knew that Potter was doing Nasri's work."
"I'll be there in twenty minutes Sir."
"I don't need to tell you to keep this all hushed up."
"Of course not Sir, consider it already done."
Harry tried to tell himself that he wasn't afraid, but the beating of his heart in his throat didn't fool him, his stomach twisting and lurching also didn't help reassure his mind of the repeated mantra that he was fine.
He was tied to a chair, this time with plastic ties which cut tightly into his wrists and ankles and he had been left in the dim, bare room on his own. He had no doubts that he was being closely watched, so he remained outwardly calm, swallowing his fear and panic and making his chest rise and fall slowly, evenly and visibly, calling on his incredibly small and limited amount of Occlumency to keep his strong emotions from being shown outwardly on his face, wishing fervently that he had been more proficient in the mind arts just enough that he could do what Snape had used to and block his emotions off entirely and detach his mind from his body so that he wouldn't feel a thing; but he would never be that good, he was a very emotional person and not entirely because he was an Omega either. He had always been prone to emotional outbursts, whether it was sadness, anger, misery or rage; he had always had a hard time controlling his stronger emotions.
He focused all of his attention on breathing normally. He had learnt that everything would be fine if he just kept breathing. He could take pain, he could take any words that could be thrown at him, he could take anything they dished out, they couldn't hurt anyone he loved because he didn't love anyone who was alive to be hurt, everything would be fine if he just kept breathing.
This was sorely tested when a slender man came into the room with a large man and started asking all sorts of questions about him and his work place, the larger man punching his face and chest every time he didn't answer, said he didn't know, or outwardly lied, apparently he had a tell in his eyes when he lied that the large man could see.
He lost all sense of time of how long the large man kept hitting him, going from either of his cheeks to the side of his head with a closed fist, probably hoping that a concussion would help make him more loose lipped, it didn't but he did have a ringing headache when the man finally left him to bleed in peace.
Harry spat out a mouthful of blood and started breathing deeply and evenly again. Funny how all he had wanted that morning was to crawl into a bed and sleep and now all he wanted was to be anywhere that wasn't here.
Everyone he had once known was dead, all of his friends and family, everyone he would have even considered telling of his move to America was dead and he was alone in a world that had never felt right to him. He hadn't made friends at work, he hadn't made friends outside of work, not even his neighbours knew him past sight. No one would miss him and that thought clenched his gut. No one would be looking for him. He swallowed hard, he couldn't help it, he hoped that those watching him thought that he was swallowing another mouthful of blood, and not swallowing down all of his hope and despair.
A/N: I know, I know. I shouldn't be doing this with The Rise of the Drackens and Lycanthrope Factory on the go, but it's not leaving me alone and it'll only be a ficlet, I hope. The second chapter will be up soon, I don't want this to be any longer than ten chapters, so I'll try and curb myself and the details, but it hasn't worked so far, but I don't want it to be on the same scale as The Rise of the Drackens, so be forewarned it will likely have a very vague ending with mentions of happiness and love in the end and I'll leave it open for a sequel to carry on when I have more time.
StarLight Massacre. X