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The Winter Casket

Chapter 7: Kindred

Summary:

Natasha meets Draco Malfoy for the first time and see’s a lot of herself in the wizard.

Chapter Text

Morning as always, came far too soon for Draco’s liking. Having never been a morning person, even back at Hogwarts, Draco relished the art of a perfect lay in. Green damask curtains closed, the hearth embers burning subtly, giving his room a warm, peacefully glow, and the fresh smell of morning dew, it’s whisper of renewal giving him a momentary respite from an otherwise, cruel world; allowed Draco for those few precious solitary moments, to completely relax. 

Then reality, as it always did, crashed unwelcome into his haven of tranquility.  

Having to get up fully and engage the day was a load of rubbish. 

So here he was, fully dressed in his finest frippery, standing in front of his full-length mirror and assessing his clothing choice for the day with a critical eye.  

“You look fashionable, Master.”

Draco looked down at Bixy, his personal House Elf with a half-smirk, “You say that every day, Bixy.”

“And every day it’s true, Master.”

Draco sighed, “Are you ever going to stop calling me Master, Bixy?”

His elf eyed him as if he’d gone quite mad, “And why would Bixy do such a thing, Master?”

“Because I asked you to?”

Bixy folded his arms with the flair only he possessed as he taunted back, “Just because Master asks such a thing of Bixy, does not mean Bixy must obey.” That comment caused Draco to smirk full-on, “In fact, if memory serves, Master freed Bixy against Bixy’s wishes.”

“I did.”

“Yes, you did, Master.” Bixy said the last word emphatically, “And therefore, Bixy is no longer required to do what Master says.”

“Yet, you’re still here, Bixy.”

Bixy huffed, waving his hand to remove any non-existent wrinkles and lint from Draco’s dress robes, “This is Bixy’s home.” The elf stated matter-of-factly, “Bixy has attended to Master since he was a young lad.” Snapping his fingers, Draco’s wand holster appeared and Bixy attached it perfectly to Draco’s torso, his wand now secured under his right armpit, “Master knows this, as we have discussed it many times before.”

Draco watched with amusement as Bixy walked into his large walk-in closet and came out with Draco’s finest long wool overcoat. Then the elf snapped his fingers and the item was fitted impeccably on Draco’s body. With another wave of magic, a protection charm was placed to keep Draco’s attire in perfect condition.  

“There!” Bixy hummed with satisfaction, “Master finally looks ready to meet the day.”

“What would I do without you, Bixy.”

Large blue eyes stared up at him like he was utterly daft, “Lucky for you, Master, Bixy will likely outlive you, so you need not worry.”

Draco blanched and swallowed uneasily, “Bixy…”

But the elf waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, “Bixy knows Master is struggling with deciding how to spend his future, but Bixy is not worried.”

“Oh?” Draco inquired, “And why is that?”

“Bixy figures if Master leaves Bixy, then Bixy will remain here at the Manor, taking care of Lady Narcissa.” Bixy then sighed wistfully, “Perhaps Master might even introduce Bixy to the Light Elves.”

Eyes widening in shock, Draco blurted out, “How do you know about the Light Elves, Bixy?”

Shrugging, Bixy didn’t immediately answer, he just putted around Draco’s room, cleaning up as he went, but Draco remained rooted in place, unsure if he should press the issue or not.  

Unfortunately the decision was taken from him when a loud knock sounded on his door.  

“That will be the lesser Master.” Bixy spat out with a great deal of distaste.  

Draco inwardly rolled his eyes at the ongoing feud between his father and their house elves. Ever since Draco freed the lot a year into his Auror training (after he’d been summoned to the Burke Estate and found six of their elves beaten and in chains), he’d taken great pleasure in arresting Blenshin Burke and then summarily freed his House Elves the following day.  

Thankfully their revolt at being given said freedom was short-lived once Draco explained his reasoning and how he wanted to be different than his father and grandfather, before him. 

Bixy knew him best and eventually advocated with the other elves, negotiating pay, time off, and clothes. Draco even had a small lodge built near the Manor where the elves could live in privacy.  

He chuckled when Bixy snapped his fingers and the door to Draco’s room opened. Bixy would never answer the door directly for his father, which irked Lucius to no end.  

“Cretin.” Lucius muttered unkindly under his breath as he walked inside Draco’s bedroom.  

About to open his mouth and chastise Lucius, Bixy beat him to the quaffle, “Lesser Master thinks Bixy’s hearing is no good, but Bixy hears and sees all.” A pointed look from the diminutive elf didn’t cause Lucius to cower, however. 

He just turned the force of his heated glare towards his son and Heir.

“Why you ever gave them their freedom, I will never know.” 

The words were said with abject disgust, but there was an underlying layer of exasperation, too.  

“Perhaps,” Draco drawled out in his most polished tone, “if you’d actually treat the elves with more respect, as is their due, you might find yourself reciprocated with a bit more kindness.”

“What a load of…”

“You expect too much of lesser Master, Master.” Bixy interjected before Lucius could finish his tirade, “It would require traits lesser Master does not have at his disposal.”

“Why you little…”

Bixy instantly waved Lucius silent before he could spout off, which caused Draco’s smile to bloom slowly over his face.

He did enjoy these moments far more than he should.  

“Will that be all, Master?”

“Yes, Bixy.” Draco chuckled, seeing his father’s complexion shift from the normally pale one, to something far more in keeping of a Weasley, “Please release my father from your spell.” He asked politely, “But only after you leave, so you don’t have to witness what comes next.”

Bixy scoffed, “Bixy is not afraid of lesser Master. He is all bark and no bite, these days.”

A with a soft pop, Bixy left, and a second later the silencing spell released in full. 

“I simply cannot abide being disrespected like an unwelcome guest in my own home!” Lucius shouted.

Draco sighed at the ad nauseum retinue of blubbering rubbish his father spewed on the weekly. 

It was getting rather boorish and trite.

“And I’ve told you, Father, you need to remember that this is my home now. Which technically means, you are an unwelcome guest.”

“Why you ungrateful, child!”

“Why are you here?” Draco decided to cut to the point, “I usually don’t have to deal with you for at least another few days.”

“Your mother saw fit to share with me this morning that you will be resigning today from your job as an Auror.”

“I actually resigned last night.” Draco offered with more patience than he felt.

Lucius eyed him critically, “Then why are you dressed thusly?”

“I have a meeting this morning in Muggle London.”

Lucius’ lips pulled back into a sneer, “And why ever would you lower yourself to do such a thing?”

“Father,” Draco warned, “I will remind you that my life and choices are no longer your concern. You lost that right when you pledged this family to a half-blood megalomaniac with sanity issues.”

Their stare down only lasted for a few moments before Lucius capitulated, “Are you ever going to forgive me?”

“Are you ever going to admit you were wrong?”

A few more awkward moments of silence later, Draco figured Bixy was correct.  

Lucius Malfoy was clearly missing a sensitivity chip.

“I have to go,” Draco finally said, “I’m running late, as is.”

“And whom are you meeting with?”

“SHIELD.”

Lucius’ left eyebrow lifted, “Those Muggle Avengers?”

“That’s what they call themselves,” Draco admitted, “but my meeting is with the Director of SHIELD and Shacklebolt. If I had to guess, I’m thinking they want my help.”

“With?”

“Baron Von Strucker.” 

“Ah.” Lucius nodded, “Your mother did mention the invitation she managed to garner from that half-blood wizard.”

“Yes.” Draco shook his head, “And you really must stop equating every person with their blood status, Father.”

“Why?” Lucius inquired blithely, “Am I stating something untrue?”

“So, you’d be alright with someone acknowledging you as: Former Death Eater?”

Lips pursed unattractively, “No need to be unkind, Draco.”

Lifting his head and praying to every god he knew to give him strength as to not curse his own flesh and blood, Draco pleaded for help. The mental gymnastics he had to employ when conversing with his father always gave him a bloody headache!

“I need to go.”

“What should I tell your mother when she asks?”

“Tell her I’ll speak with her directly when I return home.”

“We both know that will not suffice.”

“Not my problem.” Draco taunted, “Good luck with that.” And with nothing more to say, Draco strode out of his room, heading for the floo.  

Thankfully, his father decided against following him through the Manor.  

When he finally reached the Leaky, Draco made his way out to the Muggle side where Shacklebolt was already waiting. Eyeing the Minister for Magic’s attire, Draco had to admit the wizard played the part of Muggle Aristocrat well.  

Gone were the boisterous and colorful dress robes and in their place was a three-piece William Westmacott tailored suit. The waistcoat was the only part of the ensemble with a tad more flair, and double-breasted. 

Draco had a few suits from the same designer on Saville Row, and while all of his were a version of black and grey, Shacklebolt’s suit was an interesting hue of navy Draco had never seen before. It looked almost indigo, while the waistcoat was a deep burgundy color. 

Kingsley’s loafers were tasseled and oxblood.

On anyone else, the suit would likely look garish, but on Kingsley and with his dark skin, it actually looked smashing.  

“Mr. Malfoy.” Kingsley greeted with a brisk nod. 

“Minister.”

“We are waiting on the car service to fetch us.”

“Ah.” 

Thankfully they only had to stand there for about ten minutes. A sleek black Mercedes S600 sedan pulled up in front of Foyles, a well-established Muggle bookstore that Draco had frequented several times before.  

Watching the man known as Hawkeye getting out of the driver’s seat didn’t surprise Draco in the least, but what did was the stunning red-headed woman who gracefully exited the car from the other side, her sharp blue eyes clearly assessing.  

And fixated solely on him. 

Whatever he’d assumed about Natasha Romanov, Draco had to admit, he’d underestimated not only her beauty but the aura which surrounded her.  

He’d heard Potter mention to Weasley once that the Black Widow Assassin and Prince Loki were romantically involved. Knowing what little he did of Loki, Draco made the assumption that Natasha must be a very formidable woman to have garnered Loki’s interest. 

Plump ruby lips quirked up with amusement as Natasha continued to stare at him, so Draco followed suit.  

He simply wouldn’t allow himself to show any kind of weakness, even if he was a bit intimidated.

Barton walked over and shook Kingsley’s hand. “Minister, it’s good to see you again.”

“Agent Barton.”

Clint turned his attention to Draco and nodded, “Malfoy.”

“Barton.”

“We should get going.” Clint stated, “But before we do, I wanted to introduce you both to Natasha Romanov.”

Kingsley smiled genuinely, which earned him a lifted half-smile and a polite nod. When Natasha’s gaze landed on Draco once again, her friendly demeanor vanished.  

Just lovely.  

“Shall we?” Kingsley offered, not missing any of the byplay.

Draco just nodded and allowed the Minister to slide into the muggle vehicle first, then he walked around the other side and as he went to open the back door, Natasha beat him to it. 

“Allow me.” She said, her voice throaty and entirely too smooth for Draco’s liking.  

“Thank you.” He replied evenly, sliding into the back without making eye contact.  

The drive to King Charles Street from Charing across only took about twenty minutes, making their way past Downing Street where the Muggle Prime Minister’s office was located. The secret location for SHIELD’s headquarters in London was also known as the Strategic Scientific Reserve, and was founded during the Second World War. From what Draco had learned a few years back, Tony Stark’s father Howard Stark, had also been a founding member of SHIELD, and had been quite the genius, which was where his son Tony had inherited his rather large ego from. 

Looking out the side window, Draco noticed they made a left turn into an area that went underground and once they’d reached the end, there was a large security detail blocking (a locked gate) anyone from entering the bunker. 

But the largest of the three armed guards immediately recognized Barton, opening the gate without so much as asking for bona fides. Another five minutes and Barton stopped the vehicle, turning it off, getting out, and opening Kingsley’s door. 

Natasha did the same for him, and he bowed his head in thanks, silently following alongside the Minister as they were ushered into a muggle elevator.  

Barton then pushed a button designated S6, and they began their descent.  

The bunker reminded Draco a bit of the Ministry of Magic. It would seem that wizards and muggles had the same idea when it came to hiding clandestine operations. 

When the door slid open, Romanov was the first to depart followed by Barton, Kingsley, and Draco flanking the rear. The brightly lit hallway was narrow and long, with closed doors interspersed every so often in some kind of uniformity that was amusing, if not wholly predictable.

As they walked, Draco wondered to himself just how many of these facilities SHIELD employed around the world. He couldn’t wrap his head around Bruce Banner or Tony Stark willingly spending any amount of time down here. He did suppose that Barton and Romanov preferred places like this. 

The walk seemed interminable and upon taking a left turn down another long hallway, Draco immediately took notice there was a large double door at the far end. 

Thankfully, it seemed as if that was their destination.  

A few seconds later, the same door opened, revealing Captain Steve Rogers or Captain America, as he was known by his Avengers moniker. 

The soldier bowed his head in greeting, “Welcome. Director Fury asked I bring you both to the CIC.”

“The CIC?” Kingsley asked, confused. 

“Combat Information Center.” Rogers explained shortly as he led them through the doors and down a hallway only half as long as the last, with another double door at the end. When he opened it, Draco’s eyes widened at the tactical displays throughout the room. 

To the far left was a row of what he now knew were muggle electronic computers, and each was manned by a member of SHIELD and each individual looked busy perusing through pictures and data on their computer screens. 

To the right was a long, rectangular, conference table. There was a large screen embedded into the far wall, with a scanning device below the screen, as well as several relay stations denoting different tactical operations in regions of the world Draco wasn’t wholly familiar with. At the main terminal was Maria Hill, Nick Fury’s right-hand. Her back was to their group and she looked to be typing away at a furious pace.  

To the direct front of the room was a set of nine screens, with the one in the middle being the largest, surrounded by eight smaller screens. Each displayed real-time images of combat zones around the world. The largest of the nine showed intense fighting in Sudan, while the image to its immediate left displayed a region in Darfur and the one on the immediate right was an area of Russia known as North Caucasus. The other six screens had rotating images of uprisings in Bangladesh, Paraguay, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Sokovia, and Uzbekistan.  

Draco side-eyed Kingsley, and the man looked as stunned as he felt.  

For the past seven years, but more so the last five, Draco spent limited time involved in anything muggle related, but there had been a few instances where SHIELD and the Ministry of Magic had worked together. Draco had a strange feeling that his world view was about to expand tremendously and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t done his homework.

A door in the left back corner slammed opened and out walked Fury with none other than Tony Stark.

And the Iron Man Avenger looked none too happy at all.  

“Gentlemen.” Fury greeted in his brisk tone, clearly not impressed nor intimidated by anyone or anything.

“Fury.” Kingsley addressed just as coolly, and Draco couldn’t help the brief smirk that flitted over his lips, not surprised in the least that Romanov caught it. Her lifted eyebrow to Fury belied some kind of unspoken communication and Draco had to wonder just how well the two knew each other. 

However, before Fury could respond to Kingsley’s address, Tony Stark spoke up, “Why are the wizards here?”

Watching as Maria Hill turned and rolled her eyes, while Barton shook his head, let Draco know that the other members of SHIELD weren’t exactly fans of Tony Stark’s lack of proper decorum, billionaire status not withstanding.

Money could buy some things, it would seem, but not etiquette. 

Americans.  

“I asked Minister Shacklebolt and Mr. Malfoy to join us today,” Fury explained, “because Mr. Malfoy and his mother are uniquely positioned to obtain access to Baron Von Strucker’s inner circle.”

“And just why is SHIELD interested in a wizard?” Kingsley inquired, but Fury was eyeing Draco with a knowing gleam. “You must have done your research on the wizard prior to your jaunt to Romania?”

Jaw clenching, Draco didn’t know whether to be irritated or impressed with Fury’s knowledge of his comings and goings.  

“What exactly do you want?” Draco drawled out in a polished, yet bored tone, “I find myself rather unimpressed with the subterfuge you seem so quick to employ, Director Fury.” Draco then let his cool gaze settle over each Avenger, purposefully leaving Romanov for the last, “Since I have not had the dubious distinction of being formally introduced to Agent Romanov before this day, I am going to assume you wish to have us partner on this little project. I am also going to surmise that Von Strucker is not the intended target, but rather a means to sniff out the person you’re truly after.”

“And that would be?”

Draco’s smirk shifted into something more amused, “The gentleman in question goes by the name of the Winter Soldier which you shared cursorily, but not the exact particulars.” Fury’s gaze sharpened while Stark hissed out a stunted breath, but Barton and Romanov’s gazes fell instantly to Captain Rogers, who was standing stoically in the background and not contributing to the conversation at all. Draco thought that simply wouldn’t do. He’d been a pawn in someone else’s game before and was not keen to repeat the experience, especially if his mother was to be involved. “Bucky Barnes, aka, the Winter Soldier and former compatriot of Agent Romanov, here.” Natasha’s eyes widened, while Rogers looked even more uncomfortable. “Bucky Barnes served with Captain Rogers during the Second World War and was assumed dead, until recently. You believe he’s in league with HYDRA, but what you’ve failed to realize, Director Fury, is you’ve been infiltrated by the very organization you seek to destroy.”

“What are you talking about?” Maria Hill demanded cuttingly, while Fury’s lone eye hadn’t so much as blinked while Draco was talking. Romanov however, asked quietly at his side, “How do you know all of this?”

Draco finally allowed his gaze to land on the assessing blue of the Black Widow Assassin. He could tell she was more intrigued than upset. 

So he decided to throw her a bone, “I’m an Auror, Agent Romanov. I also have contacts all throughout the magical and muggle world.”

“Because you were a Death Eater.” Rogers finally spoke up, and Draco nodded, not seeing any reason to deny the truth. “I was, not wholly by choice. My family name has always opened doors within the greater magical world, and while the sparkle has lost its shine in recent years, there are still unsavory elements within the magical world who fear the Malfoy name and the power we wield.”

“Your contacts?” Kingsley inquired lowly.  

“My father’s, mainly.” Draco admitted, “I have leveraged those resources as needed to do my job, Kingsley, and I would do it again.”

The Minister sighed, “That wasn’t part of our agreement, Draco.”

“You blackmailed me into that agreement, lest we forget.” Draco challenged back, “And I think we both know you weren’t exactly unaware of what I did behind closed doors. You were an Auror once too, Minister, and as long as I was playing on your’s and Potter’s team, and the press was favorable, you turned a blind eye.”

Fury chuckled, while Kingsley’s expression took on an uneasy mixture of anger and embarrassment.

“You were forced into joining the Auror ranks?” Fury taunted, but Draco just allowed his smirk to deepen. “I’m sure Dean Thomas kept you appraised of all the juicy gossip over the past seven years, just like he did during the war.”

That got Fury’s hackles up, “And he was a prisoner in your home.”

“True.” Draco nodded, not willing to back down from this fight, “And I’m sure Thomas also told you that I tried to help as much as I could.”

“He did.”

“I’m not proud of the choices I made when I was younger,” Draco began, “I was scared for my mother and only wished to protect her.” His steely gaze landed on Captain Rogers, “I’ve done quite a bit of reading about the dark history of the Nazi’s during the Second World War, noting the similarities of how the Dark Lord wished to rule over Muggles and that of Hitler’s plans…and well, the parallels kept me up many a night, as I contemplated what the world might have looked like had the Dark Lord won.”

“That would never have happened.” Natasha stated with conviction. “Asgard would never allowed it.”

Draco bowed his head in agreement, because he knew it was the truth. Whatever their faults were, Odin All-Father would have burnt the Dark Lord and his followers to ashes had Potter fallen, and Hermione alongside him.   

“But when you told Potter about Strucker,” Draco said, “and by extension, the Winter Soldier, I decided to do some digging on my own.” 

Kingsley seemed thoughtful, while Fury remained stoic.  

Stark however, snorted a sound of disbelief, “How does a wizard with no access to technology have the ability to do the kind of investigation you’re purporting to have done?”

“Your arrogance assumes there aren’t other means to run an investigation.” Draco challenged back, “The Wizarding World may be small to you, but many of those who live in the shadows have grown accustomed to not only living there, but thriving. Trading in dark artifacts isn’t the only currency utilized by those within my world. Secrets are just as valuable. Having the right connections, even more so.”

“And you have the right connections?” Natasha asked, curious. 

Draco nodded again, “Both sides of my family are the oldest and most wealthy magical families within the western world. Nearly two thousand years of unbroken magic.” Draco noted the surprised looks from those within the room, sans Kingsley, “The Malfoy’s legacy was tarnished after the war, but the accumulation of favors stack up after two millennia.” Draco then allowed his expression to shift to something more predatory as he went on to explain, “I am Lord of House Malfoy, but I am also Lord of House Black. The Black family has a rather insidious reputation within the magical world and is in many ways, more feared than the Malfoy line. The Black’s were known for their penchant for the dark arts, as well as the accumulation of life debts.”

“What’s a life debt?” Barton asked warily.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” Natasha interjected before Draco could explain, “If you save someone’s life, then their life becomes forfeit. They must pay the life debt back at the insistence of the person or family to whom it’s owed, or they lose their magic.” She lifted her left eyebrow with impunity, “Correct?”

“I see Hermione has been teaching you about how the magical world works here on earth.”

“She has.”

“I’m not surprised,” Draco admitted, “but what she may have omitted is the life debt creates a bond, the strongest and most impenetrable bond outside a soul bond.” Draco watched Natasha’s gaze narrow accusingly, “And as you can well imagine, two thousand years of accumulated life debts are not something to be taken lightly.”

“So you use these debts as a means to coerce others into helping you?” Rogers asked with clear disgusted inflection in his voice. 

“Not as such.” Draco responded back evenly, “There are also those within the magical world who owe their financial well-being to the Malfoy and Black families. I don’t need to use a life debt when I have other means at my disposal.”

Stark was now eyeing him with a heavy dose of skepticism, “Didn’t your family have to pay war reparations?”

Draco chuckled, “Is that your way of asking how wealthy I am?” Stark shrugged, but didn’t deny it, so Draco bit back, “From what I’m led to understand, Mr. Stark, current estimates place your wealth somewhere around twelve billion dollars US, correct?”

Tony folded his arms over his chest and looked supremely smug as he nodded his response.  

Draco didn’t normally care to play the game of whom had the bigger cock, but if Stark wanted to go this route, who was Draco to deny the truth. 

He turned to Romanov and asked, “Did Hermione ever speculate on how wealthy the Malfoy family is?”

Natasha smirked, “She only mentioned it once, and assumed it was just northward of a billion pounds.”

“She’d be correct in the Malfoy’s Wizarding investments are about that much.” Stark coughed out a sound of victory, but Draco’s next words left the Iron Man completely flummoxed. “However, our Muggle investments are about twenty times as much.” His crooked grin was completely unapologetic, “The Black family’s magical vaults are about half that of the Malfoy’s, but their muggle worth is nearly twice the Malfoy’s.”

“How is that even possible?” Stark demanded.  

“How wealthy do you think the Royal Family in Great Britain is, Mr. Stark?”

“Most of their wealth is held in art, land, and jewels.”

“Exactly.” Draco demurred arrogantly. “Armand Malfoy came with William the Conqueror to Britain in 1066 and was bequeathed the largest investiture in England, which remains to this day. The Malfoy estate sits on nearly 20,000 hectares of land in Wiltshire. Most of the agriculture production in Britain is owed to my family, which accounts for nearly a quarter of our passive income. My family also owns land in Normandy, where our ancestral seat still remains to this day: The Château d’Armainvilliers.”

“It was a military stronghold in the twelfth century.” Rogers piped in. “I thought your family stayed out of the non-magical world.”

“That didn’t happen until the late seventeenth century,” Draco shared, “with the advent of the Statute of Secrecy. Prior to that time, my ancestor for whom my father was named, courted the first Queen Elizabeth.”

“Really?” Natasha asked, intrigued. 

“Yes.” Draco answered truthfully to a rumor long denied by many a member of his family, “Armand was bequeathed the title Duke of Wiltshire and my ancestors held court in royal circles for centuries. The Black family also hails from France and to this day, owns most the the state land in the country.”

“Excuse me?” Stark belted out, “Are you saying your family owns the French government?”

“I’m saying, the Muggle French Government is beholden to the Black family for all its assets and it pays a healthy stipend annually to retain that privilege.”

Tony whipped out a portable electronic device and punched in some information and an image flashed within the room, showing exactly how much income the French Government had accumulated over the past five years, which totaled nearly 300 billion euros. 

“What percentage do you receive?” Stark wondered aloud.

“Ten percent annually.”

“And you pay taxes on that?”

“The money is held in a family trust.”

“So that’s a no.”

“Part of the agreement.” Draco shrugged unapologetically. “It also means, I also have extensive contacts with the French Muggle Government.”

“The DGSE.” Barton speculated.

Draco didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. He figured they got the picture.  

“So what is it you think you know that we don’t, Mr. Malfoy?”

The question came from Fury. 

Draco paused, wondering just how much to offer up, but in the end it mattered little to him. Whatever reason he was here would become obvious soon enough. 

“Bucky Barnes is working with Strucker. They have something you want, and if I had to hazard a guess, it’s something of great power. My sources have indicated Barnes is hiding at a HYDRA stronghold in Sokovia, alongside a man named Zemo.”

“We know Arnim Zola is the one responsible for creating the Winter Soldier.” Fury stated.  

“You’re only half right,” Draco admitted, “you have a mole within your organization, Fury.”

“Oh?” Fury and Maria Hill didn’t look convinced, but Draco could tell he had the Avengers full attention. “And just whom is this mole?”

“There are three possibilities.” Draco offered, “And until I know for sure, I’m disinclined to speculate.”

“Convienient.” Stark snarked out.  

“Smart.” Draco parlayed back, “Until I know for certain what the connection is between Strucker, Lukin, Zemo, and the magical world, my first priority is to protect my world.”

“Your priority should be to protect everyone.” Rogers words were spoken like the Gryffindor he would have been, had he been magical. He and Potter would have been in competition for being the biggest self-sacrificing dunderheads ever to grace the hallways of Hogwarts.  

“That’s your job, not mine.” Draco said at last, “I have no allegiance to SHIELD, and I certainly would never work for an organization that cannot figure out friend from foe.”

“Sounds a lot like your Ministry.” Fury bantered smartly back.

“Perhaps,” Draco smirked half-heartedly, “but I don’t claim to be one of Earth’s mightiest heroes.”

“He’s got you there, Fury.”

“Shut up, Stark.”

Draco watched as Stark opened a cellophane package and popped something into his mouth, chewing it with relish. 

“So, you won’t help us?” Fury asked lowly and Draco sighed, “I didn’t say that explicitly.”

“Sounded pretty explicit to me.” Romanov teased. 

“I said I wouldn’t work for SHIELD.”

“But you would work with us?” Fury amended.

“I would be open to keeping my eyes and ears open and sharing information as it comes available.”

“And your mother’s invitation to Strucker’s home in September?”

Draco’s expression darkened, “Careful, Fury.” The warning tone was clear, “While I might be amenable to offering my help, do not suppose that means you are welcome to drag my mother into your clandestine operations.”

“Narcissa wouldn’t say no, Draco.” Kingsley pointed out, earning a hard sneer for his efforts. 

“She helped at the Dragon Reserve at my request, and it wasn’t my first choice,” Draco drawled out deeply, “and as much as my mother would insist she can take care of herself…”

“You would never willingly put her in harms way.” Natasha finished succinctly, earning a stiff nod in return. “Hermione did share with me of your devotion to your mother.”

A frown fell over Draco’s lips, “How interesting.”

The look shared between the two was filled with heavy layers of subtext, but no one other than Natasha and Draco understood the byplay happening. Natasha knew Draco Malfoy had kept up a steady stream of correspondence with Hermione for years, while the daughter of Odin had remained somewhat aloof to his advances. She was still smarting from the war, and didn’t altogether trust in Malfoy’s changed behavior. Natasha could relate. She had more than her fair share of red in her ledger and had spent years trying to wipe it clean. Something told her Draco Malfoy shared the same commitment and likely felt as she did, that nothing he did would ever completely absolve him of the wicked he’d done.  

On one hand, there was a part of her that felt drawn to Draco Malfoy’s path of penance, but on the other hand, her loyalty to Loki and by extension, Hermione, outweighed any nostalgic feelings or considerations. 

“Would you be open to working directly with me on this?” Natasha queried, ignoring the pointed looks Fury and Rogers were sending her way. 

“Is this guilt or something else, Agent Romanov?”

“My ledger is red,” Natasha repeated her mantra, “and I’m trying to wipe it out.”

“How’s that been working for you?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

The smile that twitched on Draco’s lips was one of his more genuine one’s. “On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“The details of any collaboration stays between us,” Draco spoke with clear resolve, “if you break your word, the deal is off.”

“And how do you know you can trust me?”

That question did get a real chuckle, “I would imagine being Loki’s paramour for the better part of seven years, you’ve learned a thing or two about how magical vows work.”

“I have.” Natasha responded, “And he’s not going to like it.”

“No, he won’t.” Draco agreed readily, “But I’m sure you can explain it to Loki in such a way, to get him to agree.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

“If rumor is true about you, Agent Romanov, you excel at gaining the cooperation of others. This should be no different.”

“Why does it matter to you whether Loki knows or not?”

“Because,” Draco bit out with passion, “I will not be accused of helping SHIELD and you as some kind of preamble for personal gain.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lifted with sudden understanding and after a moment, she sighed with reluctant acceptance. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Do let me know when you’ve made your choice.”

“And how will I do that?”

“You’re a smart woman,” Draco’s slate eyes were filled with amusement, “and I have no doubt you’ll find a way.”