Chapter Text
‘Merlin’s beard, Banner, you’ve been wearing a tie for five years now,’ Natasha had been watching her house mate and best friend since first year, Bruce Banner, fiddle with the thing since breakfast, continuously knotting, untying and re-knotting it with his slender fingers, never able to quite get it right. ‘Give it here.’
Without waiting for a reply, she plucked the piece of blue and bronze silk from his fingers and looped it lazily around her own neck and tying a loose, yet somehow perfect, knot before pulling it off and slipping it over Bruce’s curly hair.
‘One day,’ she said briskly, re-adjusting his collar, ‘We’re both going to graduate and I’m not going to be around to save your arse every other moment. What the hell are you going to do without me, Banner?’
‘I don’t know, Tash,’ Bruce fiddled with the tie in a downtrodden fashion, before leaning back against the stone wall of the potions corridor and sliding down to the cold floor, ‘I really don’t know.’
Natasha joined her best friend on the stone, resting her head on his shoulder and watching the other students milling around. Bruce had never been the most overly cheery of people, always seeming to walk with the weight of the world on his shoulders, however, today, the first day of sixth year, he was definitely more down on himself than usual. Natasha didn’t need to ask why - she knew all too well.
When your girlfriend of almost four years dumps you via owl on the final day of summer holidays, it’s gotta hurt.
Bruce sighed, looking down to see the redhead leaning on his shoulder, ‘So, Monday morning potions,’ he smiled meekly, obviously trying to lighten the mood, ‘What sort of sick, twisted person would schedule something like-’
‘Good morning, my over-delicate daisies!’ The voice of Professor Hill, potions mistress, echoed around the corridor, as she parted the small group of sixth year students like the Red Sea and unlocked the door to the potions room, ‘Get your prissy little arses into my classroom before you have to explain to your housemates why they’ve started the year on negative infinity points. Banner, Romanoff, don’t let me catch you sitting on the floor again, you never know what’s been puking there.’
Natasha and Bruce slid into their normal seats in the second row while the rest of the class filtered in, chatter echoing around the empty chamber. These seats had been there since that first Monday morning, five years ago, when they had to do all they could to not look as wide-eye as they felt. Now the classroom was significantly more empty, though those remaining were no surprise to anyone.
Tony Stark, dark-haired and too handsome for his own good, was lounging at the table in front of them, excitedly recounting every detail of his holiday in Bermuda for the recent Quidditch World Cup to his strawberry-blonde best friend and sometimes girlfriend, Virginia Potts, who went by Pepper. She nodded along boredly, neatly organising her cauldron and potions kit, pausing every now and then to add a quick, ‘Yes, Tony, I was there too, remember?’ and, ‘No, Tony, the Brazilian chaser was in no way attracted to your pubescent stubble.’
While Natasha pretended to not eavesdrop, her fingers traced the age old scratches of graffiti that adorned the edge of the wooden desk. Her holidays hadn’t fared nearly as well: two months spent planting roses in her Aunt’s gardens were a far cry from Quidditch games. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that Bruce had returned only one, maybe two of her owls. She didn’t really mind - he’d been dealing with his own stuff - but as he sat beside her in silence, she couldn’t help but wonder.
‘Settle down,’ Professor Hill said quietly as she moved to stand in front of the blackboard. The class hardly needed telling twice – as sixth year students they were all well aware of her temper, and the outcomes of it. ‘Now, it has come to my attention that many of you have been partners since First Year.’ Natasha could barely refrain from smirking at Bruce from the corner of her mouth. Tony, meanwhile, held his hand up to his long-suffering lab partner, Pepper. She returned the high-five without looking at him, while he stifled laughter.
‘This,’ Hill continued loudly, ‘Is unacceptable. As such, I will be re-assigning you,’ the class groaned loudly, ‘No whining. I’m all for everyone being treated equal, but unfortunately, some of you have coasted by for far too long. And some of you are more equal than others, it seems. As such,’ she consulted the list that was hovering next to her, ‘Barton, you’ll be with Romanoff.’
Natasha looked up at the Potions Mistress with wide-eyed indignation. ‘But Professor-‘
‘No buts, move.’
Natasha snatched up her bag, standing up. She spied Clint Barton’s stocky frame slumped in a chair at the back of the room, his blonde hair tousled like he’d just gotten out of bed, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else right now. Honestly, she was surprised he had even made it into the NEWT class. As Barton expertly avoided eye contact, Bruce patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled to her, and she stalked to the back of the classroom.
Hill continued to read out the list of names, which Natasha was only peripherally paying attention to until: ‘And that leaves... Stark, you’re with Banner.’
Natasha snapped her head up. Stark looked like all his Christmases had come at once. He at once stood up, opening his arms wide and declaring loudly, ‘Oh Bruce, come hither, my brother, and let us begin the epic quest of NEWT-Level Potions.’ Hill didn’t even look his way but knocked Tony back into his chair with a practised flick of her wand. ‘Thank you for sitting down, Mr Stark. Fifteen points from Slytherin. Mr Banner, will you be joining him?’
Bruce was already standing, and he walked over to sit next to Tony. Natasha would’ve rolled her eyes, but Bruce wore an expression of mixed apprehension and amusement, and Natasha cursed her bad luck.
Stark, for all his annoying habits, was one of the two people (the other being Bruce) that she had to fight for the top marks in Potions. It was a well-known fact that Barton consistently came towards the bottom of the pack.
By the time Professor Hill had finished explaining what they were going to be doing today, Natasha had decided her course of action.
‘Right,’ she said, turning to Barton, who was leaning his chair against the back wall, arms folded across his chest. ‘This is how it’s going to work: you will be in charge of collecting ingredients and chopping. I will make the potions. You will remain silent. Don’t ask questions. Got it?’
Barton shrugged, finally looking at her with the smallest of smirks.
‘Well?’
‘You told me not to speak.’
It was all she could do not to yell. Instead she reached forward and grabbed the back of his chair. He fell into an upright position with a yell. ‘Hey!’
‘Barton, I’m not sacrificing a NEWT for you.’ Then, breathing heavily, she said as calmly as she could, ‘Now, would you please go get the ingredients.’
Barton grumbled a response, but got up as asked. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, tapping the base of the cauldron with her wand to get the fire started. He returned, and she looked up to Barton, his arms overflowing with various plants and roots.
But he was giving her this big annoying smile, and dumped them all on his side of the desk.
‘I couldn’t remember what exactly we needed, so I just grabbed one of everything. That okay?’
A loud whoop came from the front of the room: Tony and Bruce’s potion had reached the perfect lilac colour. Natasha turned slowly to Barton, whose somewhat apologetic smile someone still managed to ooze charm and nonchalance. No wonder half her dorm had spent a long period of their third year swooning over the blonde seeker.
‘That’s fine,’ she said through gritted teeth, reaching for the daisy root.
It would be a long year.
-------
‘I turned away for five seconds,’ Natasha grumbled to Bruce, prodding her shepards pie around her plate disgustedly. ‘Five seconds, just to ask Hill what she thought of what the textbook said about using daffodil roots as a substitute of daisy, and then bam! I turn around and the whole thing’s turned to tar.’
‘Obviously he stirred it too many times,’ said a voice from across the table, they looked up to see Tony Stark sliding into the bench opposite, ‘Barton always stirs his stuff too much, used to drive Parker insane. Pretty sure he tried spell-o-taping his fingers to the desk once.’
‘The Slytherin table’s over there, Stark.’ Despite being slightly intrigued by what the dark haired boy had to offer, she had never liked having her conversations chimed in on.
‘Oh wow, indeed it is,’ Stark replied nonchalantly, ‘Now, would you be a dear and pass the bread?’
‘Not until you explain why you dared break over a thousand years of tradition and by sitting at our table.’ She grabbed the basket of steaming rolls in her hand and raised an eyebrow.
‘Just checking in on my new potions bro, Romanoff.’ He made grabby hands for the basket, but Natasha was too quick for him, holding it at arms length over the gap between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. ‘Not all of us were given useless partners today. In fact, some of us embarked on the first steps on what I think is shaping up to be the best potions broship. of. All. Time. Accio bread roll.’ He had pulled his wand from his robes now and with a quick flick, one of the rolls flew from the top of the pile and straight into his outstretched hand. ‘You agree Brucie?’
‘He’s not listening. Hasn’t been for the past what? Ten minutes maybe.’ Natasha rolled her eyes, putting the basket back on the table. ‘Not since Betty Ross sat down ten seats from the front of the hall.’ She waved a hand in front of her best friend’s face, clicking her fingers rhythmically, ‘Hey Banner, Banner, time to rejoin the land of the living.’
Bruce’s eyes refocused slightly, ‘Oh hey, Tony. What are you doing here?’
‘Just basking in the glory of our new union of potions togetherness.’
‘Oh... cool... Could you pass the gravy?’
As Tony passed the china boat across the table, he caught a glimpse of something poking out from underneath Bruce’s plate, “Awesome! You read Transfiguration Monthly too?”
And they were off, talking at a hundred miles an hour about some guy named Arthur’s latest article about how muggle physics applied to the magical laws of matter. Natasha tuned them out, her eyes scanning the the Gryffindor table across the hall, where she could see her new potions partner levitating cups in circles around the first years. Next to him was the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, Thor. Thor stood at nearly six foot tall, and, with bulging arm muscles and shoulder-length blonde hair, he resembled some sort of god among men. Natasha had only ever had a few conversations with the boy, but he had always seemed friendly enough, if a little thick. He was certainly enthusiastic, and she supposed Barton needed someone like that around.
Barton, more often than not, was seen sporting the smug smile he was wearing now. While Natasha had never really had any classes with him, news travels fast in Hogwarts. As for what it said about Barton - it was surprisingly vague and mostly contradictory. The facts were this: he was a Gryffindor, 6th Year, not a prefect, nor quidditch captain, despite being one of the best seekers Gryffindor had ever seen. It wasn’t the speed of his broom that did it, but his uncanny ability to spot the snitch minutes before the other team’s seeker was even aware of it. He had nearly failed potions the previous year - Natasha had overheard him boasting to his friends about - one more mark, apparently, and he wouldn’t have got that seventh OWL. What the other six were, Natasha couldn’t say with any certainty. And that was where the facts ended. After that, there were various rumours of him sneaking around after lights out, ducking into kitchens for food. Once he’d apparently made it to Hogsmeade before the Three Broomstick’s last call on a Thursday night. Natasha didn’t believe this one, despite its persistence.
Clint Barton was a mystery wrapped in a Gryffindor tie, and not the good kind of mystery at that. He was a mystery on the same level as those muggle Scooby Doo cartoons Natasha had once watched with her aunt, where at the end they pull off the swamp monster’s face to reveal it’s just Farmer Joe wearing a clever costume, a cop-out. A basic, explainable thing, hidden behind smoke, mirrors, showmanship and rumour. He was the kind of mystery Natasha couldn’t even be bothered to solve, knowing she’d just be disappointed by the ending.
Natasha was brought back to her senses by a loud crash. It seems that one of the cups Barton had been levitating had ‘accidentally’ smashed itself onto the wall. Natasha groaned softly and began to stand up (she was a Prefect, after all) but Bruce tugged gently at her sleeve.
‘Leave it - Thor’s dealing with it,’ he muttered. Thor, it seemed, had merely stuck his arm out, and was currently pushing his younger brother, Loki, towards Barton with a look of sickening pride. Loki was a fifth year Ravenclaw, and while Natasha liked the boy well enough, she wasn’t quite sure he was adept to deal with someone like Barton. But as Barton looked like he was trying to stifle laughter, Loki drew himself up to his full height (which was, surprisingly, a few inches taller than Barton - when had that happened?) and narrowed his eyes at the older boy. Barton stared him down for a second before something inexplicable passed between the two boys. There was a pause, then Barton drew back slightly, waved his wand, and the cup reassembled itself neatly onto the table. He made to stalk off, but looked up, catching Natasha’s eye. She started slightly - she hadn’t meant to be staring, let alone be caught - but he just smirked at her, and strode out of the Great Hall without a backwards glance.
Thor clapped his brother happily on the back, nearly knocking Loki off his feet, and Natasha turned away to see Tony staring at Thor with an odd expression on his face.
‘I’ll never understand that guy,’ he said as much to himself as to the rest of them.
Natasha quirked her head in his direction - she may just agree with him. Tony shook his head as though to clear it, and stood up, clapping his hands together with vigour. ‘Well, kiddos, I must be off! Can’t be late for our first NEWT DADA class, can we? Bruce, I’ll see you there.’
And he was gone. Natasha turned to Bruce, who had an odd smile on his face. He caught her eye, and furrowed his eyebrows in a question.
‘What? You don’t actually like him, do you?’ She exclaimed in reply.
‘Tony? He’s a little -’
‘Obnoxious?’
‘Out there, but really, he’s not so bad.’
Natasha just rolled her eyes. ‘If you say so.’
Bruce rolled his eyes back, but he smiled warmly at her. ‘I do.’ The bell rang overhead. ‘Either way, he’s right - we’re going to be late.’
‘Yeah, whatever.’