Natalia Romanov was not currently having a good time, her week had started off simply, an influential rich young man had started to talk to the right people and had quickly making a name for himself in certain circles. Her mission had been simple, assess the potential threat of the individual and report back to the Director, whilst also drawing her own conclusions on the targets motives and the likely direction the targets new found interests may take.

A relatively simple operation and normally would have led to her being overlooked for it, yet the need for immediate action had meant the only method in, without months of prior ground work so to not look suspicious, was to be at the large party the gentleman was hosting where there were too many people and too easy to lose yourself. Unfortunately, many of the attendees would however be very aware of their surroundings, and as such this was where the risk of detection was highest.

The guest list included many major political figures from Britain and all over Continental Europe, celebrities and distinguished guest from all fields, but most importantly there was a large proportion of the scientific community there. Whilst such an act on its only would at most normal raise some red flags, in was not uncommon for them to look for funding from the many of the wealth sponsors, it was the focus of many of these researchers was in high energy physics and aerospace engineers. Both areas of research and development with particular interest to the United States and SHIELD in particular, well that and some rather well-known if unsavoury individuals, or at least well known to any decent intelligence agency.

The intelligence they had gathered on the target was he would likely to be inebriated rather early into the party and was rather enjoying the bachelor lifestyle. One pretty red head and the man would be singing like a canary, or at least that had been the general theory when she was assigned.

As usual the problems had started early on, for whatever reason the idiot in charge of briefing her once on location, had firstly just left a file and not been there himself but also left out the targets photograph when leaving said file for her to pick up from her handler in England. As such she could only go off what with written down for his description, yet these kinds of things were subjective no matter what. The party was being held in a manor in the Southern Oxfordshire countryside, with big open fields surrounding it. A typical stately home in the middle of the estate, the manor was large with a rather ostentatious feel to the whole thing, with corridors that never seemed to end and rooms all over, but then that was to be expected. Young man, new to money, showing off his wealth in large gestures, this was nothing new, if he was a bit old fashioned in his taste.

The apparent display of a family legacy with generations of family members portraits littering the wall of the corridor connecting the rooms near the back of the house seemed a bizarre design choice for someone born in an era of rejecting the establishment. Though a benefit was now she had a rough idea of physical characteristic that seem prevalent in the family, alongside already building up a profile of her own she continued onwards to the main ball room where the majority of guest would have gathered.

Her next challenge was finding her target, described as young mid-twenties, well-built and likely to be surrounding themselves with very influential people and the heart of the party. So as the Black Widow entered one of the many rooms where guests were milling about, trading thinly concealed insults at one another, and always maintaining the polite smile on their faces. She saw a young, dirty blond hared man, by one of the many bars, in his mid-twenties with a brunette of similar age on his arm, if she wasn't mistaken the girl was a rising star in the field of journalism and had been published on both sides of the Atlantic. Regardless though whilst dressed in certainly very expensive bespoke suit and the lady being in some designer dress it wasn't anywhere near what the true 'elites' were wearing, and it was unlikely for their host to be so secluded away, so no not him.

What caught her eye next was two men both incredibly well built, one seemed at easy with his situation the other though was what made her look closer, this one was a had a larger frame and whilst to the casual observers he was fine, to her he was anything but. This was clearly not a norm for this man from the looks of it he was consciously reminding himself to stand with a slight slouch to appear casual, his overall appearance was as such she would guess a military background and well trained. He was dark skinned square shouldered and black, close-cropped hair, his nose also looked to have been broken at some point in past.

So naturally she went over to assess if he was threat to her or anyone else, as she approached the two, the larger man noticeably tensed as did the other also though he was barely noticeable, with a flattering smile she greeted them and started talking casually about benign thing, causing both men to relax. Now she could observe the other man closer, he also had black hair but instead was deliberately style to be cut just off his ears and neatly sitting above his collar. As she gazed over him she saw him returning the sentiment with dark, thoughtful, blue eyes. He spoke with a barely noticeable Liverpudlian accent.

Shortly after her arrival the trio were interrupted by the arrival of another man, this one had Long jet-black hair pulled back into a ponytail, he had vivid dark green eyes and a faint scar on his forehead. When the man spoke if his looks alone had not screamed aristocrat, then his words just further added to the conclusion, with full pomp and ceremony he introduced himself, "Welcome to my humble abode, I don't believe we have had the pleasure of being introduced..."

"Elizabeth" was Widows simple delicate response, the man took her offered hand and grazed his lips against her knuckles, as she was expected to do, a small giggle escaped her lips.

"Elizabeth, if you hadn't guessed I am Henry Potter, now as the host of this little soirée, I could hardly ignore the most beautiful angel in the room." Internally Romanov rolled her eyes, could the man lay it on any thicker; still she looked through her eye lashes at him encouragingly. "Now gentlemen if you don't mind may a steal this lady for one dance?"

Without even waiting for a response he led her away leaving the room into an adjoining ball room, one side with fall to ceiling arched windows, that offered a view on to the back lawn, if one felt like being modest, that flowed down hill to the river and boat bellow. The windows themselves were filled with some of the most awe-inspiring sights painted in the stain glass windows, scenes depicting battle, feast filled with a myriad of mythical creatures the common theme seem that they all were from what she guessed to be Arthurian legend. The opposite side of the room was different as high near the ceiling were more portraits this time only of a single figure in each, noticing her gaze her host turn to explain, "A lasting reminder, each head of the family has his or her portrait up there upon their death".

"There must be hundreds of years' worth of history up there" was her reply whilst portraying a sense of awe that that she herself didn't feel, however no verbal reply gave instead her host gave her an indulgent smile and led her towards the centre of the room where she joined him in a slow waltz, "You dance very well for a such young man," Romanov commented as he led here around, as he appeared to at the oldest be around twenty four.

"Well you must thank my late godfather for forcing me to take lessons..."

The evening then progressed, the man, Harold left her occasionally to speak with people or dance with someone, yet he kept coming back to either flirt or introduce her. As it turns out he could certainly speak like a politician, he managed to blatantly insult a great deal of people so well discretely they could only smile back in response, least they were to appear rude.

So back to her present situation, she as currently tied up on what she presumed was Harold's bed, in what if she was honest had five minutes ago been kinda hot. Yet now she needed to get out, Coulson, or at least that who she presumed was on the phone to Harold at the moment demanding him to put her on, it had been going on for the past five minutes, and even Coulson was starting to lose his patience.

"Put the woman on the phone please." Though posed as a question Widow knew Phil meant it as an order, however from what she had gathered so far it seem at the beginning Phil had tried to threaten the man but for whatever reason it hadn't worked, and so their petty argument had gone on.

"Now sir, as I have said it is rude to just demand thing without introductions first, also..." at this point he held the phone toward Romanov who could only make muffled sounds as she was currently gagged, "as you can hear she is kind of tied up right now so, no can do afraid, bye!" With that Harold hung up the phone.

Walking up to her he slowing caressed her check and planting a slow kiss on her cheek, then simply went to leave the room only pausing as he was exiting the room to turn around and say, "It seems as it was not meant to be, my dear Natalia" and then he left the room.

Once the door shut the bounds suddenly just loosened and she was free, removing the gag and getting her cloths from the floor she grabbed the phone. She had very angry phone call to make, "Coulson, what is it" Widow snarled down the phone, it may not be the professionalism expect from one of the world leading assassins but hey that had been hot, and now she was annoyed.

"It's Barton, he's been compromised..." was his simple reply.

All anger evaporated just like that and the Black Widow was back, heading out of the surprisingly unlocked window she left. On her way out, what she didn't fail to see was the groups of soldiers' stationed around the perimeter in the tree line. What she would later realise when she thought back is the distribution of them wasn't for security, it appeared to be quite the opposite as if they were ready to storm the building when give the signal.

However, it also showed that the night had rattled Widow from her missing how Harold had addressed in the end. To the look of recognition that flashed over the face of the, tall attractive ginger man with pale blue eyes, who had been on the front patio looking by chance towards the side of the house where Natasha had escaped when she pasted him by. The young blond who had moved from the bar, did notice the look along with their host who was looking out one of the many windows in the east wing.

AN: Description of the Stately home is loosely based off of Castle Howard In Yorkshire (UK).

Also any grammatical error, do point them out as I will go back and correct them.