Special Negotiations

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Story Notes:
11/13/14
The pub is located in a village outside of Bath. The owner is a squib who allows Harry to use the back room for special negotiations when necessary. The wards on the room provide privacy that isn’t even possible at the Ministry, and the out of the way location is good for clandestine meetings that don’t need written up in the Daily Prophet. When Hermione arrives at the pub, there’s a footy match on the telly and crowds of people wearing supportive uniform colors for both of the teams surrounding the various tables.

She surveys the crowd until she spots a man sitting at a corner table by himself. He looks dismayed by the loud cursing crowds as groans and cheers battle each other for dominance depending on team preference. Even if she hadn’t studied a file on him, she would know this is the man she’s supposed to meet. He’s obviously not English since he’s staring around in surprise, and she wonders if he’s traveled very much at all if he finds this display impressive. Well, outside of the wars he fought in, at least, as she knows from his file that he spent years in the American Armed Forces. Oddly enough, he doesn’t have that same paranoid observance that seems to linger on the people she knows who fought in their war.

“You people take soccer seriously,” he says, still looking at the crowd but obviously speaking to her. Perhaps he isn’t as unaware as he seems. When he turns his head to look at her, the grin on his face is too friendly to be sincere. It’s the kind of smile that relaxes people and makes them trust him. It has the opposite effect on her.

“Sam Wilson, I presume,” she says, moving her gaze over him before nodding towards a door nearby. “I’m Hermione Granger. If you’ll follow me, we’ll have privacy back there. And it’s football. Not soccer.”

“You’re not one of those, are you?” He stands up and gives her a look that wouldn’t be out of place on Ron’s face when he’s exasperated with her. “Uptight and formal? If so, I don’t know why I’m here because you’d probably have got along better with Natasha. She’s no nonsense and professional, too.”

“Goodness. You’re not one of those, are you?” she asks, repeating his question back at him. “Obnoxious and rude? If so, I don’t know why I’m here because I’m likely to hex you for being insulting whereas Harry is more tolerant of behavior problems.”

Sam blinks at her then he laughs. “Point taken, Hermione. I didn’t mean to be insulting.”

“I’m afraid to inform you that it’s an American trait,” she points out with a slight smile. She leads him into the back room and closes the door behind them, removing her wand so she can reinforce the wards. Considering he is a representative for a world crime fighting network, she also does a quick sweep for Muggle listening devices, just in case.

“Ouch. That really hurts.” Sam clasps his hand over his heart and grins. “You’ve got a sharp tongue. I thought you British were always polite and drink a lot of tea.”

“I prefer coffee, and I did make my statement with an appropriate tone of regret,” Hermione reminds him. She gestures at the tray nearby. “There’re beverages available if you’re thirsty. I can’t vouch for the pint of ale, but my ex-husband believes it to be some of the best available in a Muggle pub.” She waves her wand quickly, and a bottle of water floats towards her.

“That’s a pretty cool trick,” Sam says, walking over to get his own bottle of water. “I’m working, technically, so I’ll save the pint for later. So, you’re divorced?”

“Obviously, since I did refer to Ron as my ex-husband.” She glances at him. “You know, I read one of your papers on PTSD and the effect it can have on a person’s personal relationships. It was really interesting.”

“You did?” He looks surprised. “Is that a distraction from the personal talk or did you really enjoy it?”

“Both.” Hermione smiles. “We fought a war of our own, when we were much too young, and I think we rushed into marriage without giving ourselves a chance to recover from everything we experienced. Your paper highlighted a few things that I hadn’t considered before.”

“Thank you. I’m not much of an academic, but that’s a cause close to my heart, so I’m glad to hear it did some good.” He grins. “I’m more flattered by you knowing that paper than I’d have been if you mentioned the flying.”

“I dislike flying,” she scoffs as she removes the lid from her bottle and takes a sip. Enough idle chit chat. It’s time to get down to business. She opens her bag and starts removing the files they need to discuss during this meeting.

“Dislikes flying. Of course you do. You and your magical bag there. Are you really Mary Poppins?” Sam stares into her bag. “Wait. Is Mary Poppins a witch?”

“You aren’t as foolish and light-hearted as you’re pretending, Mr. Wilson. I’d appreciate if you stopped treating me like a target and remembered that we’re on the same side,” she says, arching a brow and giving him her best ‘don’t play with me’ expression.

“Well, if you ask some people, they’d disagree with you, Hermione. I’m pretty light-hearted,” he says, taking a seat and smiling at her. “I’m actually glad they did send me instead of Nat. You two together might have ended up deciding to take over the world or something equally scary.”

“What makes you think I’d need your colleague’s assistance if I ever set me sights on world domination?” Hermione smiles sweetly. “My boss has included me in several conference calls with Mr. Coulson and Miss Hill, so I understand what your team is investigating and why we’ve been requested to assist you. However, I’m not sure what your knowledge about magic consists of exactly.”

“My best friend is a super solider who doesn’t age and spent decades frozen, and his best friend is a former mind-controlled assassin who also doesn’t age and has a nifty metal arm,” Sam says, his tone amused but his gaze serious. “Did I mention they were both born in the early twentieth century but are actually younger than you?”

She’s intrigued despite herself, but she isn’t here to ask nosy questions about Captain America or his assassin friend, even if the case does interest her. “That’s science and biology, Sam,” she points out, deciding formality is pointless when he isn’t going to follow it, too. “I’m talking about magic. Not aliens attacking large cities or mythology coming to life due to intergalactic beings.”

He arches a brow and purses his lips. “I’m sure there’s been some magic before, but I’m not overly familiar with it. And I’ve never seen anyone actually use a wand.”

“The American magical community doesn’t always use wands. They feel it’s an archaic symbol that represses their magic, which is probably why so many of them perform wild uncontrollable magic by not using a wand.” She rolls her eyes. “While I am supportive of change and improvement, there are some things that require tradition in order to function at the highest possible level.”

“Got it. American’s suck, and wands are good.” He snorts. “You’re pretty rude yourself, you know?”

“Apologies. Not all Americans are offensive and rude.” She pushes the file across the table towards him. “Your team has come across several individuals working with the HYDRA organization that were tracked to us. It seems that three wizards who managed to escape after our war have decided to target Muggles by joining with that group. Their magic is being used in increasingly dangerous ways, which is why my Minister has decided that our involvement is necessary. The file contains a profile on each of the wizards, and we have a team of aurors ready to join your team for extraction and imprisonment of these wizards before more damage can be done. I’ve been assigned to act as liaison to discuss any details necessary and to assist with formulating an effective mission plan.”

“I can’t wait to see you and Steve try to agree on an ‘effective mission plan’,” Sam admits, winking at her. “I have a feeling there are going to be fireworks.”

“I highly doubt that. We’ll have the success of the mission in mind, and I’m sure this Steve bloke can compromise.” She stands up and walks to the door. “While you start reading the file, I’m going to order some snacks. We certainly don’t want you to return to your team and complain about our lack of hospitality. Besides, you need to try some good pub food while you’re here.”

“I’m suspecting your definition of compromise might mean doing things your way, so I’m still betting on some fireworks.” Sam laughs as he opens the file and starts to read. She rolls her eyes before leaving the room and heading directly to the kitchen to order a few things for the meeting.

End