The Pursuit Of Phenomenally Unlikely Payoffs

VII. Dormitory

They got Loki in the end.

It's cold comfort when Clint sits in the Hufflepuff boys' dorm and stares at Phil's empty bed.

Two days after the attack, they came and took Phil's stuff away – from his neatly-arranged books, to his collection of wizarding trading cards. And Clint stood by the door and watched, stricken, as they took away the evidence that his friend had ever studied at Salem.

Clint runs his wand through his fingers, then closes his hand around the carved shaft, letting the sharp edges of the depictions dig into his palm.

Stark managed to hold off the Imperious Loki cast on him, long enough for Rogers and Banner to come to his rescue. Thor insisted on being a part of the attack because he knew his brother, and Natasha dragged Clint in, pointing out that she had the Floo Lighter and if the boys wanted to stay in touch with the rest of the school, they'd need her and that Clint had an 'in' to Loki's mindset.

For all the good it did Phil.

Nobody blames Clint.

He wishes they would. He certainly does.

A footfall on the step, and Natasha tilts her head in the doorway. "May I come in?"

"It's a free world."

She sits down beside him on the bed, pushing back her quilted jacket. "You weren't at breakfast."

"I wasn't hungry."

And he wasn't in the mood for the chatter and excitement of the other students at the prospect of tonight's Yule Ball, which is going ahead in spite of – or perhaps because of – the events of a month ago.

"Terrible as Loki's betrayal has been, he did not succeed," Professor Weir reminded the school the morning after they dragged Loki into her office, body-bound nine ways to Alaska. The courage shown by our students prevailed against his aim of bringing dark Wizards into this school, and we will honour that courage – and the lives we lost in the fight – by continuing with our end of year celebrations."

Clint doesn't want to be happy and party, or be glad that they stopped Loki from taking over the Salem school – well, he does, but he wants to do it with Phil.

And Phil's not here anymore.

"Don't do this to yourself, Clint."

"Nobody else will."

Natasha glares at him. "And you don't think everyone else thinks, 'If only I'd done this, been better, been smarter, been cleverer, I could have stopped this'?"

"Everyone else isn't me."

"And you're special, is that it?"

"Yes! I helped him—I couldn't—I didn't—"

"You need to get over yourself," she says, her voice growing accented as she gets angry. "Because you're not the only one tripping over the guilt. Erik's depressed because he unwittingly helped Loki to find a loophole in the Anti-Apparating spells into the school, and Pepper and Jane think they should have noticed Loki spending so much time with Erik when he wouldn't usually give a Ravenclaw the time of day! And then there's Maria," she added, "who thinks that Phil's in hospital because she failed to do more than keep Phil alive after Fury went down with a shattered knee and Thor was in the body-bind."

"That's stupid."

"No more than thinking you could have fought the Imperious!"

"Stark did!"

"Stark's a narcissist! You know they're nearly impossible to Imperious!" Natasha rolls her eyes. "Loki wanted to make trouble and he did. If it hadn't been you, someone else would've suited his purposes!"

Clint tilts his head at her. Her voice has risen louder with each statement. "You're really mad."

"If you're being stupid about this, I think I can be angry about it!"

He grins because...well, he's not quite sure why. It's not exactly funny that she's angry, except that it kind of is. There's a warm feeling in his belly when he looks at her.

"Don't you smile at me like that."

"Like what?"

Her eyes narrow and Clint begins thinking 'uh-oh'. Then she leans forward, her mouth comes up, and her lips press against his and 'uh-oh' suddenly becomes 'oh yeah!'

Clint doesn't mean to grab her, but he figures he'd better kiss her back, quickly, before she realises what she's done. He'll blame it on the Imperious. Or possibly on a temporary leave of sanity? Maybe on the fact that it's snowing outside and he didn't want her to get cold...

Natasha's soft and warm and smells of lemon, and she's not pushing him away. In fact she's climbing onto his lap and both lap and hands are suddenly full of Natasha. Merlin's balls! Who taught her to kiss like this? What is she thinking? Why is he thinking at all when he could move his hands just a little further down and—

"If you two want privacy, I suggest you at least lock the door." Maria arches an eyebrow as she leans in the open doorway. "Should I come back later?"

"No!" Clint's protest is strangled, embarrassment taking up residence in his throat. It only increases as Natasha turns to look at him, her expression radiating disbelief and embarrassment as her skin radiates pink heat. "Not that I want to stop. Unless you want to stop— Oh, Merlin."

She relaxes a little as he blurts out his reaction, which Clint figures is a good thing. Maybe.

"Adorable as you two are, there are more important matters to deal with," Maria drawls. "You're wanted in the common room. Also, Barton, you'd better have some decent dress robes because I'd rather not drag you naked into the Great Hall for the Yule Ball, but I will if I have to."

"You and what army?"

"Well, Natasha, for one. Rogers. Stark would do it just for the laughs. I could probably blackmail Sif..."

"With what?"

Maria smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know? Now," she folds her arms. "Come downstairs."

"Bossy," says Natasha.

"And don't you forget it."

Clint takes a deep breath and looks at Natasha. "We can continue this later. I mean, if you want to continue this la—"

It may be a few seconds later, or it may be a few hours later – Clint's sense of time has completely gone out the window - when someone asks, "Are they coming?"

"Not yet." Maria sounds exasperated. "Although they're breathing pretty hard."

Natasha's laughing as she breaks off the kiss, grabbing Clint's arm and pulling him towards the door. Standing just outside the dorm, Steve Rogers gives Clint a measuring look but just shrugs with a smile as he turns to follow Maria down the stairs, one hand grabbing her arm when she slips a step and refusing to let go until they reach the Hufflepuff common room.

Where Phil is sitting on the couch, threatening to hex Stark if he doesn't step away, and telling Darcy that he's fine, no, really, he is, she doesn't have to hover.

Clint nearly slides down the last couple of stairs himself. As it is, he lands on his feet, Natasha's hand over his.

Phil tilts his head, the seamed scars pink and shiny on his face, his hair a shaved fuzz over the line of his skull. "Hey."

"Hey," Clint croaks. "How are you?"

"Recovering." Phil smiles, the easy smile that Clint hasn't seen for too long. "I hear you've been doing some travelling."

"I... Travelling?"

"On a guilt trip." The smile remains, the amusement doesn't. "The EMWs say I'm not supposed to strain myself, so I'll only say this once, Clint. No more travelling, okay?"

"Okay."

Phil's gaze travels down, and Clint abruptly realises he's still holding onto Natasha's hand. He almost drops it, but Natasha's grip suggests she's not about to let him go. His neck is all hot, and Stark is eyeballing him, but if she's not going to let go, he's not.

"So," Phil says as his gaze flicks back up, and the laughter is back in his friend's eyes, "you're going to have to tell me all the news from the last month. Every little detail."

"Every little detail?"

"Well, most of them."

tbc