Time flew fast when one was trying not to think of a deadline. Hermione stared at her breakfast wordlessly, knowing the eggs would not be eaten on their own. Her fork played around the white part that she had to force down her throat. Next to her, Harry hadn't even filled his plate. Today was the First Task. Today, Harry would be facing a dragon.

"You'll be fine," she eventually said. "You know the spells and we've practiced some more."

From the moment they had received the letters and advices, the two had restlessly practiced the sleeping and flameproof spells along with illusion casting and living transfiguration in case the dragon needed distraction.

"It might not be enough," he pointed out grimly. Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"You took the mandragores leaves with you, right?"

Harry shrugged.

"I'm not sure they actually act as dragon-nip," he said sarcastically.

"Paint always has some weird hearsay at hand since he loves random facts I tend to listen," Hermione interjected, feeling the need to defend her American friend. "He's not always a hundred percent accurate, but I'd say it's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

They didn't speak until Professor McGonagall arrived to take Harry away, leaving Hermione alone. She later found herself following the crowd of students to the sort of stadium where the First Task would take place. She opted to seat next to a Beauxbatons student at the edge of the rows, in case she needed to bolt when Harry's turn would end.

The students were chatting excitingly, wondering what would await the Champions when the first loud roared echoed. Everyone turned silent as the first dragon was led into the arena. Hermione couldn't help but shudder at the sight. The creature was just as big as it she had imagined it in her nightmares, and watching Cedric arrive and being so small next to it gave her cold sweats. Harry was even physically smaller, how could he stand against a dragon?

She barely followed the next events, too anxious to wait for this to be over. Fleur Delacour's turn came, and then Krum, and was it her impression or did the dragons grew larger as the candidates went? Then it was time for Harry to show up.

The Hungarian Horntail definitely was larger than the others, which made Harry's entrance on the ground even more pathetic. The dragon growled at Harry's arrival, reptilian eyes blinking distrustfully. For a few seconds, Harry seemed at loss at what to do but eventually reached for his wand and started approaching slowly when. . . the dragon stopped growling. It blinked slowly and twisted its head on the side, as if suddenly evaluating the student in a new light. Hermione held her breath as the dragon sat straighter and made a strange, soft sound for a creature its size. The noise reminded her of Crookshanks' purring.

Were the mandragore leaves working after all? The dragon seemed to lose all aggression and Harry took a few cautious steps closer, hand tight around his wand and looking paler and paler. Hermione realized he had no idea what the heck was going on or what to do. The dragon growled –more gently this time –and sniffed the air. The passive attitude made people whisper in awe and from the corner of the eye, Hermione saw the tamers exchanging curious glances.

So it came as a shock when the dragon suddenly spit a pit of flames.

People screamed in the assembly, having been caught off-guard by the dragon's behavior. Thankfully, Harry seemed to have anticipated the act and had time to cast the flameproof shield. The dragon spit another column of flames before getting up from its nest and moving with a surprising grace and speed towards the teen. It spit fire a third time before Harry seemed to realize he needed to move fast –but by then it was too late. While they had practiced the flameproof shield against many other spells, nothing they had come up with had matched real dragon's fire and Harry had been forced to remain still to defend himself. So when the creature was upon him, he wasn't fast enough to dodge.

The Hungarian Horntail opened its mouth but instead of spitting flames again, reached forwards and caught Harry's clothes. Then, under everyone's wide and shocked eyes, it picked up the teenager and carried him back to its nest. Harry was unceremoniously dropped on top of the eggs while the dragon resumed nesting, its large wings spread around her progeny like an impenetrable shield and Hermione wondered why, just why the weirdest things kept happening to her friend.

TUFA

Roosevelt Magical School -Library

"Merde!"

The loud curse disrupted the peacefulness of the library and Matisse DeLatour, better known as Paint, found himself on the receiving end of many glare, including the librarian.

"M. Latour," she said in warning. The teen nodded, slammed the book he was reading and promptly left the place, head hanging low. He was soon followed by his best friends Fish and Lick, who had been working on a project further down and witnessed his outburst.

"Seriously, Paint," the former chided. "What has Don been saying about disrupting the peace and quiet of other's people work time?"

The teen stared desperately at his friends.

"Remember the letter Brita sent us about the dragon? And that I might have mentioned that mandragore leaves acted like catnip?"

"Yeah, you found that in some random book," Lick said, frowning in confusion. "I was actually impressed you took the time to even search for it." He grinned. "Don't tell me, you have a crush on Miss Britain?"

Any other time, Fish would have jumped on the opportunity and encouraged the teasing, but his friend looked mildly upset so he decided to let it slide.

"Was your intel wrong?"

Paint winced.

"Not exactly. Mandragore leave's smell is the best way to approach a dragon up close because the scent is similar to a newborn dragon."

"Oh. . . so Brita's friend might get some harsh lovin' from a dragon of all things? What's the big deal?"

"Do you remember that a newborn has to be burned to reinforce its skin?" Blank stares were exchanged. Pant went on helplessly. "Dragons take the expression 'baby shower' literally."

Silence.

"So. . ." Fish started: "Alternative-Me-Name is going to be burned to death."

"And if he survives that," Lick added with a horrified face. "Cuddled to death."

Paint made a pained face.

"Brita's gonna kill me."

Hogwarts

It took Harry half an hour to extract himself from the dragon's clutches. The dragon had switched into full mother-hen mode, growling at the tamers if they dared approach, growling at Harry if he attempted to sneak out and would lavish him with reptilian affectionate nuzzling. A dozen sleeping spells cast at odd angles eventually made the creature doze off enough for him to push his way out of the nest, his hard-earned golden egg prize tucked under his arm.

When Hermione finally managed to reach him, she knew her skin must have been as white as his. Thankfully, aside from some minor scrapes, he had come out of his adventure relatively unharmed. While Mrs Pomfrey ended her check up and reluctantly let him go, Harry had recovered most of his color.

"I don't know what I should be freaked out about the most: that a bloody dragon mistook me for its baby or that the experience was, in a twisted kind of way, bloody awesome." He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I had no idea what was going on until a tamer explained its behavior."

"If the mandragores leaves did this, Paint is a dead man walking," Hermione declare faintly.

Harry offered her a weak smile.

"It's fine, don't throttle him. I came out alive and that's pretty much what I was aiming for. And I got a one of a kind story out of it. Not many people can brag they've been cuddled by a real-life dragon."

They left the tent to watch the scores. Hermione thought the judges had been fair enough; except for Karkaroff, who was obviously biased all along. With his culmination of points, Harry had ended tied with Cedric in second and third, most likely losing points under the faint suspicions of cheating. While Harry hadn't mentioned he had been carrying mandragore leaves, no one was stupid enough to think he hadn't come unprepared in the arena to trigger such a reaction from the creature.

His winning had an unexpected consequence. Or rather, knowing the wizards' lack of common sense, Hermione figured they should have anticipated it; Harry's victory had managed to reconcile him with Hogwarts. While half of Hufflepuff house still hated him for being the 'fake' champion of Hogwarts, their animosity wasn't as heartfelt. Ravenclaw and even a few Slytherin nodded politely as he passed by and Gryffindors had partied all night long in celebration.

Surviving a loving dragon had made Harry likable again.

Hermione didn't see him the whole evening as he had been caught by one of his most enthusiastic peers and she had been dragged by Lavender and Pavati for some more moderate fun. It wasn't until the morning as she was heading for breakfast that she saw him again, waiting in the common room with tired lines under his eyes. It seemed that he hadn't slept that well after all. . . she slowed her pace when she realized he wasn't alone. Ron was standing there, too, talking animatingly and moving his hands like whenever he was nervous. The sight made her pause.

Both stared when they realized she had arrived. Ron's face turned mildly hopeful and Harry carefully neutral. She translated it by the former wanting to return to her good graces, the latter merely watching. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach, something she had started to suspect after the First Task.

Yes, the danger was over for now, the peace was sort of restored and it could be so easy for Harry to ignore his housemates in retaliation for everything they had been putting him through lately. But Harry was far too forgiving for his own good. He wouldn't give them the cold shoulder too long. Even –she swallowed resentfully at the thought –he could even come to forgive Ron. The Weasleys were like family to him, that was not something easily overlooked. His ties with the redheads were stronger than hers, she couldn't blame him for wanting to return to their warm nest when he had had nothing for years.

When it became obvious the two were expecting a reaction, Hermione decided to let it go.

"Harry, he's your first friend, I won't come in between you if you want to reconcile." The thought made her wince, but she was doing this for Harry's sake. Although she couldn't help thinking she would be very disappointed with him if they did renew their friendship. "Just don't ask me to be anything else but civil with him. I'm going down for breakfast."

She left without giving them any time to answer and headed to the Great Hall. Given the history between the two boys, she expected Harry to return with Ron and both resuming the casual friendship they had developed over the years. So it kind of startled her when Harry joined her barely five minutes later and sat next to her. Alone.

"He's my first friend, but you're the one who stuck with me," he announced before she could speak. "I know you don't want me to choose or anything, but I'd rather stay with you."

Before she could come up with a reply, a large brown owl dropped a rather heavy letter in front of her bearing the familiar writing of her uncle. Upon common and silent agreement, they hurriedly took their breakfast and returned to their common room. Most people were still sleeping due to last night's party or down for breakfast, so they easily found an isolated couch to read in peace.

Hermione,

I'm not entitled to talk about what I'm doing, but damn I really wish I could. Things have been weird to say the least, in a way that might interest you, too. Anyway, here is a letter from Maria. Tell your friend to reply directly, I doubt she will wait for an answer very long; she has other stuff to take care of.

Since I can't talk about my latest job, so I'll have to wait till I see you next. As for Christmas, I want to spend more time with you, but I can't promise I won't be called for a last-minute job. So really, it's up to you.

Tell me what you'd rather do, and I'll go with it.

Till next time,

Clint

"Something interesting must have happened," she thought out loud, wondering what would make Clint so eager to talk about whatever he had seen. Magic-related, since he suggested it might catch her attention.

"What's your uncle doing again?" Harry asked, having read over her shoulder.

"Security contractor," she replied. "Even though I have a feeling there's more to it."

Hill's letter was short and to the point.

Mr. Black,

Show up alone at the south entrance of Homesgade next Friday. Convince me of your innocence, and we'll get you a real trial. That'll be your only chance with me; I have bigger fish to fry than running after a low-key Azkaban escapee.

M. Hill

Harry and she exchanged glances.

"That's. . . cold. I hope Sirius won't be offended," Harry muttered with a grimace. "Some Aurors are searching for him full-time and this woman doesn't seem to give a damn about him. Or maybe that will convince him, who knows?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I think she had other priorities in mind," she retorted dryly. "Sirius' ego can handle that. From the little I know about her, she has a lot of responsibilities to shoulder. Come to think of it, it's even surprising she had bothered to show an interest."

Both paused and exchanged a second glance.

"You think Sirius would let us go to the meeting?" Harry wondered out loud. Hermione smiled inwardly; glad he had unconsciously included her in the plans involving his godfather. Which, after a heartbeat, she thought was natural; she had been here from the beginning.

"The letter says 'alone'," she pointed out, then smirked. "I guess it's time to use your father's cloak."

The Uncle From America

Clint felt somewhat disappointed. The blonde man from New Mexico had barely arrived and left and he had been immediately sent back to New York. Some random reason from Hill who had wanted him back to base. 'Pick up Romanoff and meet me in front of Stark Industries at 4pm' was the text he received right after his landing. That left him barely two hours to cross town and arrive at the front desk. Natasha was already there, the remaining of her stuff during her time at SI in a backpack and was currently chatting with the woman at the front desk, probably waiting for him to show up.

When the receptionist saw him, she glanced at the redhead and whispered a none-too-discreet: 'that's him?'. Natasha glanced at him in turn and pulled a Natalie Rushman smile.

"Yeah, he's my fiancé."

Clint nearly paused and remembered nearly belatedly that Natalie Rushman's official reason to leave SI was her impending marriage. So he fully grinned in turn and pulled her into a loving embrace. Natasha returned it and kissed his cheek, making the receptionist's eyes glint in glee, no doubt recording the picture in her mind for further gossip.

"Ready to go, sweetheart?" he asked, not resisting urge to use the affectionate nicknames that she hated. Had they been alone, Natasha would have glared at him.

"As ever, darling," she replied sweetly, promising deadly retribution. Clint didn't care, it was worth it.

They headed out of the building and immediately spotted the black SUV waiting for them. Natasha called shotgun while he headed to the backseat. Maria was behind the wheel and started the car the moment they were settled.

"Black wrote back this morning," Maria announced. "He agreed to meet us at said time."

"No conditions?" Natasha asked the same moment Clint wondered:

"He knows we'll be there?"

Maria glanced at the blond man through the rear view mirror.

"He should be smart enough to know I won't come alone. I've been in contact with one of the few reliable people in the Ministry, she's ready to set a trial the moment we arrest Black."

"No extraction then?" Natasha asked, mildly surprised.

"Extraction is for later; if we don't start by smoothing out things in England, we'll have the British Ministry of Magic on our back. And while they are halfway corrupted and bribed, I'd rather they not complicate my work." She paused. "They are still a Ministry."

"I hate politics," Clint muttered. "What did he answer anyway?"

Maria nodded towards the side door.

"In there."

Natasha took the folded parchment and quickly read it. A few seconds later, she snorted and handed it to Clint. He understood her amusement, the reply was really short.

Miss Hill,

I will be there in due time.

S. B.

"I thought he might want to present his case before actually meeting you," Clint admitted, folding the letter back.

Maria shrugged. "He might want to get it over with. And I have a feeling he won't be alone. I'm bringing you and Natasha with me to make sure your niece won't do something stupid."

Clint frowned at her tone. While he was nearly sure Hermione would show up, he couldn't blame her for wanting to defend her friend. He himself had faced the same trouble when he had brought in Natasha. And she had a much more hardcore reputation back then. Whether Hermione was aware of it or not, he did want to support her decision regarding Black, if she truly believed him innocent.

"Like showing up to ensure a criminal gets a fair trial?" he retorted, annoyed.

Next to him, Natasha kept uncharacteristically quiet. He briefly wondered if she was making a parallel between her situation and Black's, two criminals on the run and two Bartons willing to give them a second chance. Except that in Black's case, he was supposedly innocent.

Maria smirked, amused by his question.

"No, intervene like her idiotic uncle and create another international incident."

And if that reference was any clearer. . . Clint rolled his eyes and settled himself in a more comfortable position. They had a long journey ahead and he wanted to be well rested for his first encounter with the magical world.