Reminder: This isn't mine!
Chapter Six
Clint pov
"Do you exercise often?" he asked once they got home. Natasha was still sleeping, the bedroom door closed, but an empty cup lay in the sink. The wrapping of the coffee was left abandoned on the table though, which probably meant she had noticed the absence of her favorite brewage. This was an obvious passive-aggressive warning. He was so glad he had bought some extra: an upset Natasha meant unpleasant repercussions –for him anyway.
"Not really, we don't have ordinary sports at school." Hermione replied, picking up said wrapping and throwing it in the garbage, oblivious to the message. "I thought you wanted to teach me how to defend myself."
"I actually said 'fight'," he corrected, "But it's good to know when to run away too." He hesitated and evaluated his options. What kind of program could he make her follow? She wasn't a junior agent, he wasn't preparing her for a mission. "Y'know what, I'll think about what to teach you." And talk to Natasha about it. She helped Maria plan trainees' sessions sometimes. "Wanna shoot couple bullets first?"
She nodded in agreement and quickly went to her bedroom to check on Crookshanks while Clint left Natasha a note. They headed to a shooting range right in the corner of the street; a detail that had been included in the localization of his apartment. That, along with a gym they'd certainly hit later in the morning. Hermione followed his lead with narrowed eyes, taking in everything she was seeing. A couple of shooters where aiming here and there, a few he recognized from habit and greeted with a nod. Clint picked up one of the most basic gun with bullets and both headed to the far end of the range, where they'd be unbothered. He didn't miss the way she slightly flinched at the sounds as he tested it a first time.
"Ever shot a gun before?" Hermione replied negative. "You're not afraid of weapons, right?"
"Not much, except when they're pointed at me." She replied.
"Smart girl. Okay, take this," He gave her the gun, showed her how to put the bullets and explained the basics. Hermione followed his instructions to the letter. "Now in position." He directed her into the right pose. "Keep your gun straight. Eyes going along the canon." Hermione raised the weapon. "Close an eye." She did. "Breathe slowly and whenever you feel ready, shoot."
The girl took exhaled a couple times before pressing the trigger. Her arms jerked slightly under the impact and she dropped a surprised 'ah', much to the few other shooters' amusement (those that had deemed the girl accompanying the guy who never missed worth watching anyway). Clint bit back his smile. She had missed the target entirely.
"Keep your arms straight and firm –don't move them as you pull –that's it. Try again."
She did. This time the bullet edged the corner of the target. It was very far from what he had hoped, but better than before. A few repositioning later, she had managed to center her shootings, but was still far from the bullseye.
"It's frustrating," she grumbled, annoyed after a full fifteen minutes of shooting and missing. She was progressing, slowly but surely, but her frustration was entertaining. Clint smirked and resisted the urge to ruffle her hair. He wasn't sure she'd want any kind of physical contact from him.
"You're a beginner, it'll come gradually." He reassured her. She gave him an even stare.
"I always succeed at what I do," she retorted hotly, and Clint had to bite back another smile. While they hadn't talked much so far, he had cheated a bit and checked her school records and everything pointed to a very smart girl. He didn't doubt a second she was used to being the best. That shooting didn't enter the frame of her skillsets fast must be annoying.
"What's your eyesight?" he asked eventually. Hermione gave him a suspicious glance.
"10/10 on both. Why?"
"I'm sure it's more. Not quite sure about your father, but I have a 20/10 on each." She stared at him skeptically. He chuckled. "Yeah I know, it's weird. While it helps to shoot a target, it still took time before I became as good as I am." He didn't mention that it was either practice to never miss, or he'd have to skip lunch. Succeeding in this had been more a matter of survival than actual fun. "There, see?" he said, took the gun and without really looking, shot six times. When he brought the target back, a smiley face grinned at them. Hermione's eyes were wide in awe.
"Bloody hell, that was-"
"Barney was good at it too, even our father was a pretty decent hunter back in the days. Runs in the family, so I'm not worried, you'll get there." He said encouragingly. "Keep trying, you'll get the hand of it eventually. I need to make a phone call."
Hermione nodded and returned to her target, a new determination in her eyes. Clint knew then that she'd do her best to perform, if only to prove to herself that she could do it. He walked into the lobby and dialed Natasha's phone. She picked up on the second ring.
"So how's the shooting doing?" she asked without preamble.
"She's a beginner," he replied diplomatically. "You found the coffee?"
"Yeah, thanks." He had no doubt she was brewing a cup right now. "Any reason why you're calling?"
"Yeah, I'm actually thinking of bringing Hermione to the gym and teach her the basics of self-defense. Her school is a heck lot more dangerous than I'd expect."
"It's a magic school. I grilled Maria all about it on the way back from England."
He winced slightly, taking a mental note to be nicer to his boss. No-one should have to face an inquisitive Natasha. The sudden thought that curiosity had overcome her sense of duty made him ask the following question:
"Is that why you ditched your team and drove back all the way?"
He heard her snort.
"That's not even worth mentioning. How's the uncle-niece bonding going?"
Clint glanced towards the range and could see the same iron concentration on Hermione's face. It made him smile a bit.
"Fine, I guess. She's determined to hit the center, at least."
"Good. You better hope she'll be in the same mood for sparring."
Natasha hung up, leaving him wonder what she meant by that.
After trying for another half-hour, Clint nearly had to drag Hermione away from the range. The teenager still hadn't managed to hit the bullseye and had taken it as a personal offense. Her frustration was hilarious –although he wouldn't tell her that (he really didn't like being on the receiving end of a woman's wrath. Hermione was still a teen, but he had plenty experience with Bobbi and Natasha and sometimes Maria. As they say, better safe than sorry).
"Why don't you try another weapon?" he suggested once they were back in the main corridor. Hermione raised her eyebrow questioningly.
"What do you mean? Like, if I tried a rifle?"
"Why not?" Clint replied, and after a quick nod to the manager of the shooting range, went on: "I'm not at my best with a gun. I won't miss a target, but I still prefer another kind of weapon." Hermione looked between intrigued and cautious. Since she hadn't looked fond of weapons at first place, he could only suspect she wasn't all too eager to know what he liked to manipulate. He waited a few moments to see whether she would or not ask, and when she didn't, added: "I am unbeatable with a bow."
That caught her attention.
"A bow?" she repeated. "You are an archer?"
"The best," he confirmed, not wanting to show off but still kinda boasting. "I'll show you later if you want."
The teen made a noncommittal grunt and followed him back to the apartment. There, they met with Natasha and after Hermione reluctantly changed into looser clothes, made their way to the gym. It was early enough not to be crowded yet, and the receptionist waved them into their usual spot. Once there, Natasha firmly closed the door and stared at Hermione. Clint and she had decided beforehand that she would supervise the physical aspect of his niece's approach to self-defense. He might have been a relative, but he was pretty sure she'd rather have a woman teaching it to her.
And in complete Natasha fashion, she didn't wait to give orders.
"Run around the room, make it five lapses."
Hermione blinked and stared at them alternatively.
"What? Why?" she asked, surprised.
"We're going to teach you how to fight, but if you don't want to get injured, you need to warm up a minimum. Since you're new to this, we might as well start with the basics. Hence, three lapses for starters."
Clint always had an odd feeling Natasha actually enjoyed scaring and ordering young troops around. But Hermione looked even less motivated at the task at hand.
"Listen, I know I agreed to learn how to fight, but it's not like I'll actually need it." She pointed out. "I have magic. And it's not like fists would work against a Basilick." She muttered the last part.
"What's a Basilick?" he asked immediately, not really wanting the answer, but she gave it anyway with.
"A giant snake. It can kill someone by looking at it and has poisonous fangs." She stopped there, but he felt like she was holding off something.
"Let me guess, there was one at school and 'Harry' took care of him?" Reluctant nod. "It could kill with one look and it was ramping around in Hogwarts?" Another reluctant nod. "Just fucking great. What do you have there too? Vampires? Werewolves?" Hermione winced slightly at the last one. Clint groaned and nearly facepalmed. Why was he letting the girl back to that school again? "Okay, finish me off. What are the other dangers you faced back there? And don't lie or I'll send Tasha on you, and her specialty is interrogation."
Hermione quickly glanced at an impassive Natasha, no doubt wondering how true that sentence was. Clint dearly hoped she wouldn't have to find out. The teenager reluctantly admitted:
"One of our teachers was possessed by You-Know-Who in our first year. And he tried to kill Harry. I wasn't in the line of fire," she added quickly before he could express his indignation.
"What else?"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably on her feet. He gave her a stern glare and crossed his arms. Apparently, Natasha had done a little more than just interrogate Hill about the magical universe, as she piped in and asked casually:
"I heard you had a close encounter with the criminal escapee Sirius Black."
The teenager stared at her in disbelief and unease. Clint hadn't heard of the name –probably a small fish for SHIELD –but he did understand the tune in his lover's voice. The man was wanted, and not just for petty theft.
"Don't tell me; he's another criminal who was after Harry?"
Hermione seemed to hesitate, but after a hard glare towards Natasha, decided to give in:
"Yes, but not like that!" Before Clint could about kids and danger, she went on quickly: "He's Harry's godfather. And he's innocent. We know who the real culprit is but he escaped before we could turn him over to the government."
Clint exchanged an exasperated glance with his partner. She motioned they'd talk later, so refocused on his niece.
"Right. Anything else?"
Natasha's eyes hadn't shifted from Hermione yet.
"It seems that she doesn't believe I can't take her down as long as she has magic." Her voice was oddly cold and analyzing. Uh-hum, Clint thought with a grimace, he knew that tone. "Tell me Hermione, what happens when a wizard lose its wand? Can he still use magic?"
The teen's lips thinned into a line as she narrowed her eyes at Natasha. The redhead raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to answer.
"He could use wandless. But it's harder," She admitted.
"And most wizards can't."
Again, Hermione nodded.
"Would you consider your wand a weapon?"
Hermione opened her mouth to deny it, but then shut it. Clint didn't need to know much of magic to imagine what was going through her head. A wand could cast spells –any kind of spells, and she focused too much on the beautiful part of it. He had no doubt a wand could also cast something deadly, as the criminal after Hermione's friend had done.
"Your uncle and I can dodge a bullet if we concentrate hard enough." Natasha went on. Not if he or she were pulling the trigger against the other though, Clint added mentally, but nodded anyway to agree. "At close range, you can duck a knife, incapacitate an enemy pointing something unwanted at your head." She took a step closer. "You're not expected to become a black belt in the few weeks you're staying here. But you, and I'm sure Clint agrees, can learn to disarm a wizard. Let's do a little test," Natasha added, eyes bright like she just had an idea. "I dare you to cast me a spell; and I'll prove you there's always another way to disarm someone holding a wand without magic."
"I don't want to hurt you. And I'm not supposed to do magic in the presence of others," Hermione retorted, although Clint could tell the idea was slightly tempting. Not because she wanted to actually harm Natasha, but more to prove her point. She truly thought magic could overpower them. Clint winced inwardly. Although he still didn't like the idea of magic, maybe watching Natasha overcoming it would help him be less wary. Then he'd had something else to discuss with his niece.
Natasha rolled her eyes.
"This is our own room; the cameras are disabled and the manager knows better than to bother us when we're both here." They had also paid him enough to ameliorate his gym, especially after keeping on breaking most of his outdated stuff. "When I say everything that happens in this room will stay in this room, then everything stays in this room."
Clint had noticed that no matter where they went, Hermione always had that little stick on her. So it didn't surprise him when she reached for it from her back pocket, and knew the moment she touched it, that she was going to cast a spell.
'Experliarmus' she shouted, aiming at Natasha. A blue light emerged from the tip of the wand. The redhead ducked with easy and ran straight on her with the determination of a lion going for the kill. Within a blink, she caught her wrist, twisted it around as she smoothly slipped behind the teen's back and pressed her thumb underneath her neck. Hermione inhaled sharply, her eyes wide and shocked. The whole affair had lasted less than five seconds.
"No need for magic," Natasha whispered without moving from her spot. "Just speed and practice, and enough knowledge of the human body to know where to push at the right time. Your opponent will fall without understanding what had happened to him."
She released the teenager who now looked at her with a mixture of wonder, fear, and maybe respect. Natasha smirked slightly.
"If you still aren't convinced, we can try again."
Hermione put back her wand in her back pocket, more subdued and contemplative than before.
"You can teach me to do what you just did?"
"That, and more." Natasha said with a sharp nod. "But since you've disregarded my first orders, now you get to do seven lapses."
Hermione groaned, but this time, didn't complain and started running.
A simple routine settled on the following days: as both Hermione and Clint were early risers –Natasha would not deign waking up before nine, they would eat their breakfast quietly and then go to the shooting range. They'd both fire for an hour before heading to the gym, being joined by Natasha and working out for another two.
Hermione progressed slowly but surely. She had obstinately refused to shoot with anything else than the practice gun he had first given her and had yet convinced her to even touch a rifle (he'd reluctantly submitted to the idea he wouldn't be showing off his bow anytime soon, not as long as his stubborn niece had gained a minimum grip on her own weapon). Within three days, her aim had improved enough that she'd hit the inner circle one time out of four. Clint was genuinely happy for her, and a small part of him was actually relieved she had managed to progress, especially since he feared that her glaring too much at a cardboard target would actually set said target on fire (magic and wizards after all).
The sessions with Natasha were doing great too. His partner had showed her in slow motion the trick to disarm a man holding a gun (or a wand) and, after using him many times as a practice dummy, he could feel her absorbing the method and adapting it to her size and strength. She was encouraged to do more reinforcements like stretches and pushups and even yoga to clear her mind.
For some reason, Clint heard that Hermione had found a new determination for training, something he'd understand later as 'muggle pride'. Apparently, racism in wizard society didn't concern the color of the skin, but the ancientness of the families and blood. In short transition, aristocracy. And those guys didn't like that the new generation was coming more and more from the muggles.
"They keep talking about blood superiority," she said one time, when he had actually gathered some guts and asked about her school. "And yet I succeed more in my studies than most pureblood do."
"Sounds a lot like private schools and rich kids," Clint replied, frowning. "Any of them tried to actually hurt you?"
He had meant physically, but she had shaken her head.
"Insults mostly, nothing I can't handle." She paused and smirked. "But I did punch Malfoy in the face once."
Given the way she had described the Malfoy kid before, Clint could do nothing but beam at her proudly.
Afternoons were more relaxed, more focused on visiting the area and talking about anything and nothing. Although he still wasn't quite at ease with physical demonstration, Clint was warming up to talking about magic, as long as it was all theory. He enjoyed that Hermione would lighten up when asked about it and would smile at the endless chatterbox she'd become once launched on the subject. He wasn't spared many details; from her school to how she perceived the wizard society, and of course, her friends, Ron and Harry.
She had other friends in her House (the whole concept of four houses division felt a bid odd and contradictory since that school was supposed to encourage unity. But who was he to contest archaic rules of a universe he knew next to nothing about?) but when she mentioned them, they sounded more like housemates. Whereas those two guys…he had a feeling he'd have to have a serious talk with each of them. Ronald Weasley for actually failing to be a friend (as he understood, writing, although much slower in the wizard world, was free as long as you had an owl) and Harry Potter to get a good grip on his character (because he knew Hermione was thirteen-going-on-fourteen and she was going to start notice boys sooner or later, and no matter how hard she denied or realized it, 'Harry' was definitively in her eyesight).
He, in turn, forced himself to recall a few positive memories of Barney and told them to her. Thankfully, Hermione quickly felt he wasn't at ease at the mention of his older brother, and most of the time, didn't engage the subject unless directly encouraged. In return, he left the case of Sirius Black slide for the moment. He wanted to return to work and grill Maria more on the subject before actually facing Hermione anyway. The tone she had used back then had been definite and Clint thought that man's argument must have been really convincing to have a sharp mind like his niece believe him.
And when Monday morning came, the routine broke.
Hermione's summer classes would take her all morning and she'd only be back in the midafternoon, but she had now her own subscription card for the shooting range and access to their private room at the gym. Their presence at the apartment depended on their schedule, and this week was back to rookie training (they weren't quite off the hook for their last stunt yet) so their working time would be normal and Hermione could still train with whichever came home early.
Still, Clint was all nerves and fidgeting when she departed that morning to head to Morgan International High School for Witches and Wizards.
"You are worse than a mother hen," Natasha grumbled. Clint sighed and rubbed his face. He hated that he could not enter the building and meet the teachers himself. Hermione had assured him a thousand times she could go on her own, especially since he needed to head to work later in the morning and yes, she'd have her cell phone at hand's length if needed and his and Natasha's number on speed-dial.
"I know, it's overrated. But she's my responsibility Tasha." He glanced at her sideways. "What if something happens to her there? Related to magic, I mean. I can't help her."
The redhead pushed his arms away, pushed him back into the couch and straddled his thighs. She cupped his face in her hands and brought their noses close enough to be touching.
"You will do great, Clint. But not if you overreact like that." She gave him a gentle kiss. "Hermione's a big girl and she seems tough. And, most importantly, she understood what you're trying to do by training her to fight without magic." He gave her a look. "Fine, I'm training her." Her fingers caressed the hair at the base of his skull. "She's surrounded by magic users, she's in her element right now. She'll do just fine."
Clint closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her closer. Natasha gently pulled his head in the crock of her neck and rubbed his back until she felt him relax slightly.
"You're probably right." He muttered in her shirt. Natasha pulled back and raised an eyebrow.
"Probably?" she repeated. That made him smile.
"You're always right." He amended and was rewarded by another kiss, longer and deeper. When they parted, Natasha was smirking.
"I kinda missed you lately."
"We see each other every day." He pointed out, but knew what she meant. He had tried so hard to build some kind of connection with Hermione, he felt he had been neglecting his partner. Which he totally had beendoing. Natasha leaned forwards and this time, kissed him till he was out of breath.
"Stop being an idiot," she growled, but the glint in her eyes told him she wasn't actually angry, and stepped away from his lap. "And come make it up to me."
He laughed and promptly followed her to their bedroom.