Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff, the newly christened Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and an all around assassin, was swirling the drink in her hand. She knew that SLY-5, a versatile hallucinogenic, had been added to her drink. She had seen the bartender drop it in her drink through the crack in the backdoor, after all. She knew she had to drink it either way.

The human trafficking racquet was a major blow to the esteemed Spy Agency. It had somehow slipped through the cracks, they only knew it even existed because one of their people had turned against them due to some reason or the other.

She couldn't jeopardise the only clue they knew about, this rather affluent bar smack in the middle of LA. Arresting the bartender would serve no purpose, and would only have the syndicate hide itself even more successfully.

So this was what she had to do.

She had been trained extensively, in all necessary skills needed for an assassin, including seduction. The methods could charitably be called illegal, but the results were hardly lacking. She knew all about the ugly side of sex, perhaps more than even most sexual predators in the world. She knew she would be powerless once she drunk it, but if she didn't, they'll just choose someone else.

Didn't mean she had to like it. Against popular belief, well, popular in S.H.I.E.L.D. anyway, she did feel emotions. Emotions were a powerful tool and a deadly instrument, she more than most understood that. She kept the drink on the table, mentally preparing herself. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked back at the table.

To see someone else grab her drink and down it all in one gulp.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the brown-haired man apologised. "My throat was getting a bit too dry. Excuse me!" he called the bartender, "two more shots for the lady!" He then turned towards her, "You'll accept it, yes? Just a little thank you," he smirked.

Natasha sat there, jaw hanging, for a brief second before the genuine shock was replaced by a carefully constructed expression of shock. Not many could tell the difference.

She shook her head in exasperation as she accepted the shots from the bartender. "That's one way to ask me out, I suppose," she said wryly. She was watching him closely.

"If only I had any chance..." the man shook his head, "I know when to..." he wobbled where he stood, as she stood up in just enough time to show she hadn't been expecting it, and caught his shoulder.

"You okay there?" She asked with seemingly genuine concern. Though her mind was busy forming another plan. Perhaps this could still be salvaged.

"I–I guess. Am I drunk already?" he asked before shaking his head. "Anyway, good day," he nodded at her as he started walking towards the exit.

She grabbed the drink still on the table, no doubt dosed, as she raced after him.

"Wait! I'll walk you to the cab," she said as she caught up with him.

"It's fine," he said uncertainly.

"No, it's perfectly alright," she grabbed his arm and refused to leave it. He tried again after paying the bills, but she patently refused his every attempt.

As soon as they were a block away from the bar, the man suddenly pulled her close. She acted along, she knew she could defend herself if need be. He brought her face close to his, and, instead of trying to kiss her, as she thought he would, he instead turned her slightly and started whispering into her ear, "Please play along... whatever your name is. The drink you were going to drink was drugged. I'm... sorry for lying to you, but, please, do go on. Take a cab and go home. Don't talk about this to anyone."

While outwardly she acted as if she was surprised and still somehow playing along, internally she was smirking. She knew something was going on, coincidence didn't exist, especially in the world of spies. "Oh... Thank you," she said demurely when he finished speaking, already changing her plans on the fly.

As he stopped holding her, she whispered into his ear, "Are you drugged?" she asked, and didn't have to fake more than 50% of her concern. Regardless of the circumstances she didn't want unneeded casualties if she could avoid it.

"Oh no," he chuckled, "The drink is spreading through my under-shirt. Don't worry."

Well, he was skilled, she could give him that. Even she didn't spot that particular trick.

"Do you have what it takes to trust me?" she suddenly asked him.

He paused for a moment but nodded. They were still holding each other very closely.

She pulled back, and pretended to down the drink in her glass, which she had already emptied behind his back. When he looked alarmed, she merely gave him a wink as she pretended to cough.

He understood instantly, no doubt working through the events and connecting the dots like she herself did.

He held her closely as he started walking into a dark alley. The clichés were clichés because of a reason, after all.

"I'm feeling... drowsy..." he shook his head, seemingly in an attempt to clear the cobwebs. But she could see his eyes linger at certain spots, obviously spotting their tail, just as she had a while ago.

"Come on," she said in exasperation, as her hand activated a tracking device from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s finest minds. She had only the one, she'd have to use it judiciously. "The hotel's a couple blocks away!" she continued her flawless acting, drilled into her by her superiors at the Academy.

"Just a little... rest..." the man sat down, his back on the wall. It was never useful to keep your enemy behind your back.

Unless, that is, it was.

"Whoa!" she exclaimed in wonder, "Are there three of you?" She shook her head as well, to confirm the guys waiting for the chemical to do its job. Three, lightly armed, not built for agility but were more than 90% muscle.

A bullet to the knee, as a last resort then. Or, perhaps, one good kick at their necks. She held no scepticism about what her fate would have been, had she simply allowed herself to be drugged. She only hoped that they wouldn't immediately test for the drug in her blood, as this must be a new occurrence for them. Still, two in one evening must be quite the haul, and they definitely didn't really wanna waste two doses of the precious chemical.

She breathed heavily as she too sat down beside her temporary partner. They both knew to shift around so that each had a clear line-of-sight.

"Umm... can you see that rabbit over there?" he asked, pointing at a seemingly blank section of the wall. She looked closely, didn't really have to act it out, and immediately spotted a fourth member visible only through the reflection on one of the windows on the wall. She gave a grudging nod towards him in her head.

Outwardly, she waved a hand in the air, as if trying to catch the invisible creature. She then giggled. "It's quite shiny, isn't it?" Yes, I saw his reflection. Thank you.

"Yeah," he yawned, "Yeah it is. Mind if I catch a little nap?" Do you want to play it asleep or awake?

"I'm feeling a little drowsy," she admitted. You play sleepy and I'll have my hands on the guns should we need it.

"Well then... good night, sweetheart," his eyes rolled over, and if Natasha didn't know any better, she would actually believe he passed out.

She waited for him to even out his breathing, then she too slumped in apparent lethargy.

She had to wait for 5 minutes before their watchers made their move.

One of them walked up to her, held her by the waist, pulled her over his shoulder, and started towards a black BMW.

The man received a similar treatment, being dragged towards the same car by two men holding his shoulder.

They were summarily dumped to the back-seat, and the car started moving.

He twitched experimentally, waiting to see if such action warranted any reprisal from their kidnappers, but it seemed as if they didn't care enough to install cameras in the back-seat.

He slowly opened his eyes, but the darkness was complete. The windows were completely tinted, a barrier separated the front of the car from the back, and the doors didn't have any handles or levers, or any that he could find by groping in the darkness, anyway. So this was designed for this very purpose.

Natasha followed his example, and soon they were sitting up in their seats and looking at nothing. Talking couldn't be risked. Suddenly, she pulled his hand towards her and started spelling out some words using her fingers to trace them on his palm.

"Name?"

"James. You?" he spelled back.

"Kat," she was using the identity of one Katherine Johnson during this mission, it was only fair that she continue using it.

"Agency?" he spelled.

She drew a smiley face.

He laughed softly.

They continued talking with the help of their fingers, as the car kept on turning and twisting through the roads to wherever they were being taken.

As the car started slowing down they resumed their earlier positions, sprawled on the back-seat.

The car soon rolled to a stop. The gates opened, and they were dragged out and again dumped on a wooden bench or table.

"We'll take 30% more," her kidnappers were speaking, "We she is unharmed. And there's two. Seems fair."

The was silence before another voice joined the conversation. "15%, and you never saw us."

"Won't go below 25," a different, gruffer voice added. Natasha chanced a glance and saw there were 15 to 20 men standing around in the abandoned warehouse.

There was silence as each side digested the newest offer.

"I'm afraid my employer would not go over 20%." The second voice said.

"Then we'll be taking her," said the gruffer voice, "You can keep him."

Before she heard anyone walking, a voice shouted, "Obliviate!" James tensed just a bit at that word, so she knew he recognised it somehow.

There was silence again, which lasted more than a minute.

"So... 15% then?" the gruff voice asked. Natasha barely controlled a shudder. Did these guys have mind control?

The other voice chuckled, "Yes, now, I will appreciate it if you vacate my property."

There were shuffling of some feet, she lost count at eight as the noise turned too chaotic. Now would be the best time. She expertly slid down from the table and ducked behind some crates, ignoring the shouts from the men.

James, thankfully, followed her lead and hid behind a different crate, in a position would help him cover for her if need be.

Her gun flashed into her hand and she started firing bullets into the fray, hoping to diminish their numbers advantage. She ducked behind her crate to dodge a green coloured jet of light. Energy based weapons? Who was she dealing with, exactly?

She quickly dispatched a couple of thugs who had tried sneaking up from the other side.

Then she chanced a glance towards James, only to stare in shock. He was holding a stick and waving it around as different coloured lights hit the thugs, downing them instantly.

Her momentary shock distracted her enough that she failed to resist the "Accio girl!" from one of the stick wavers and flew through the air and smacked head-first into the concrete floor.

"We have the girl! Accio girl's guns!" all her guns, even the one hidden in her thigh, snatched away from her and dropped in heap near the man, "stop firing, and show yourself, or she dies!"

James stopped firing for just a second, took a quick peak to know that yes, she had actually been captured, then ducked back as he avoided a green jet of light meant for his head. "Fine!" he yelled, "Don't touch her! I'm coming out!"

"Please do." the cultured voice spoke up as it walked towards the apparently defenceless Natasha. "And who are you? Pretty little thing? You would have fetched a good price, but you had to go all twitchy fingers on us. Oh well."

Natasha took a moment to observe the warehouse. Surprisingly, all the thugs were already down. Only the Head remained standing several feet away from her, but the stick trained firmly in her direction.

James had already left his hiding spot and was staring down the apparent head. "Malfoy!" he growled.

The man in question raised one peculiar eyebrow as he stared at James. "Scarhead?" he smirked, "Fancy meeting you here! Wonderful disguise you have going there. And who's this girl, a bird for the night, eh?"

"So this is how you choose to waste your one chance? In mugglebaiting? How many muggles did you imperius for this?"

Malfoy, if that was his name, just laughed. "You wouldn't believe how easy it was to control the syndicate. Especially when Portkeys could travel from anywhere to pretty much anywhere else. It was obviously the best place to bring in my magic in exchange for luxury, barring some unpleasantness every once in a while."

"You won't win against me, you know that." James 'Scarhead' was scowling. "So what's the big idea? You know ICW is going to be after you, wands glowing. So even if you somehow escape from me, they would hunt you to the end of earth. Surrender, I may even try for some leniency."

"Pull the other one Potter," Malfoy said. "You have shown me the stick and the carrot, might as well show me the sword."

James tensed slightly, glanced at her, then finally sighed. "I am the sword."

"Arrogance doesn't suit you, Potter. You and I both know you won't let me harm this little redhead here. Oh and what is it with you and redheads? I shudder to think about what goes on in that mind of yours, wasn't Lily a redhead too?" he laughed again.

His laughter was grating on Natasha's nerves. Unfortunately, he was staying well away from her and had his stick pointed on her, and not James. She didn't understand that weapon, apparently it was a pretty versatile. She couldn't chance a direct assault, so she was forced into the role of a damsel, for now.

James 'Scarhead' Potter, as she assumed his name was, kept his wand trained on 'Malfoy' but kept looking at her. She knew that in the business of spies, no person was too valuable, especially not a spy from a different agency. Why was he hesitating? She assumed he had his orders. She also knew, were the roles reversed, she would try to save him, but capturing the leader took a higher priority.

"Do you trust me, Malfoy?" asked James. Do you trust me, Kat?

"What?" Malfoy asked in confusion, but Natasha gave him a tiny nod.

"Okay then," and James vanished.

"Wait!" Malfoy exclaimed. He waved his stick around, and Natasha flinched. She felt a wave ripple through her body and move on. When nothing further happened, she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

Malfoy was scowling, not an expression that seemed to be foreign to his pale white face. "Damnit Potter. Never took you for a coward," he muttered under his breath. Then he addressed her, "I'm sorry for his terrible manners, a wizard doesn't leave her lady, I implore you to not judge us by the actions of only the Scarhead." His face was back to smirking. "I'm sure that the buyers over in Istanbul would be glad to entertain your fancies." He lifted his stick slowly, "But I'm afraid, Our meeting mu–"

Whatever he was going to stay, she would never know, because at that moment, a red jet of light hit him square in the chest, and he just dropped right there, like a puppet with no strings.

James re-appeared behind Malfoy, pulling away some sort of sheet covering his body. He looked at Malfoy, then waved his stick, and two more red jets of light stabbed into Malfoy, who stayed still. Finally, James nodded.

He then turned and looked at Natasha.

Well... this was awkward.

"So... a wizard, huh?" Natasha asked as she stood up.

James scowled.

OoOoOoOoO

AN: So I heard a joke yesterday, 'Harry Potter goes undercover.'

Heh.

Anyway, yet another story!

I know right? Such a rare event!

I wonder if I'll finish this one before I start another.

To the new readers, that was a trick question.

I have too much free time on my hands! Bah! What do you want me to do? Give regular updates and a satisfying ending on the WIPs before starting a new one? Have we met?

Reviews are always welcome and encouraged.

Stay Home, Stay Safe, people. Or don't. It's your life, really.