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Skye watched them all quietly, and what she saw puzzled her.
Everyone wanted to approach Hermione. Nobody actually did.
They wanted to say something. They couldn't decide what.
The whole thing had a strange, charged quality, like being in the presence of a celebrity who might bite.
Even Coulson, who was never anything but steady, went slightly stiff whenever Hermione was in the room.
That sealed it for Skye. She had to know.
Who was this girl?
Her first guess had been virus expert. Made sense, given the situation. But then she'd caught pieces of Hermione and Coulson's conversation, "the Convergence," "the Nine Realms", and that theory fell apart. Those words weren't in any frame of reference she had.
She tried asking around.
Everyone either got vague or went completely silent.
Which made it ten times worse.
Skye was a hacker. Secrets were basically her love language. The more locked down something was, the harder she pulled. After the Battle of New York, she'd spent weeks digging into the Avengers until Coulson caught her in the middle of it and offered her a job instead of a cell.
"I will figure you out," she muttered to herself. "I always do."
Not that the others were trying to be cruel. Skye wasn't a full member yet, her clearance didn't cover whatever category Hermione fell into. And Coulson's introduction had been cut short by Hermione herself, which was a pretty clear signal that she didn't want to be explained. They were just following her lead.
Skye didn't care about signals.
She drifted over to Simmons and dropped her voice like they were trading state secrets.
"Hey. Simmons. Hermione's accent — it's the same as yours, isn't it? Proper London. And she came all the way here specifically to save you." She paused for effect. "You two aren't related, are you?"
Simmons rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "If I had a relative like that? I'd be laughing in my sleep every night."
She started counting on her fingers, visibly warming to the idea.
"I'd be untouchable at S.H.I.E.L.D. Forget Coulson — Director Fury himself would have to be polite to me." Her eyes went a little dreamy. "Every lab in the building, mine to use whenever I wanted. Cutting-edge equipment. Rare materials. No requisition forms, no waiting lists, just unlimited access to everything."
Skye pulled a face and turned to Ward instead.
"Ward. You said you took a class with Hermione, right? What class?"
Ward clocked exactly what she was doing. He corrected her anyway.
"I didn't take a class with her. She taught a class. To us."
"Wait," Skye's eyes went wide. "She's a professor at the Academy? She looks younger than me!"
Still nothing useful. Skye pivoted to May.
"May. Do you know Hermione? What's her deal? What is she?"
May looked at her. Two words.
"Don't ask."
Skye stared at her. "..."
Every single one of them. Playing dumb.
She chewed on it for a moment, jaw set, and made a decision. Go to the source. She crossed the common area to where Hermione was sprawled in a chair, book open, working through a bag of snacks like she had no concerns in the world.
Rules were never really Skye's thing, anyway.
Hermione glanced up, clocked her coming, and without a word grabbed a handful of snacks and held them out.
Skye's face split into a grin. She took them, dropped into the seat next to Hermione, and started crunching.
"So," she said, all casual ease, "how old are you, little sis?"
The people nearby went quiet.
They could see exactly where this was going. The intent was stamped all over her face, she might as well have been holding a sign.
What none of them expected was how thoroughly it backfired.
Somehow, within minutes, Skye had stopped asking questions entirely and was the one answering them. The floodgates opened. She talked about the orphanage. The years she spent drifting. Her early hacking jobs, the escalating stunts, the brushes with law enforcement that she'd somehow always walked away from. The whole story, in order, with details, delivered cheerfully to a girl who asked almost nothing and just kept passing her snacks.
Skye didn't even notice. She got animated, waving her hands when she hit the good parts, laughing at her own punchlines. She looked genuinely delighted to have found someone who listened this well.
The others watched in silence.
The looks on their faces said: Really? Her?
...
Deep in the night, when the last of them had gone still, Hermione slipped out with a Disapparation and reappeared in the Hogwarts lavatories.
Morning came fast. Professor McGonagall was already counting heads in the corridor, getting ready to walk the students down to Hogsmeade. Harry stood off to the side, looking sorry for himself. No guardian's signature, no permission slip, no trip.
Before she fell into line, Hermione glanced over at him. "You do have an Invisibility Cloak."
Harry blinked. Then understood.
...
Hogsmeade was loud and warm, the way it always was on a Hogsmeade weekend. Old stone buildings packed tight along narrow streets, the smell of butterbeer drifting out of every other doorway. Students moved in clusters, voices layered over each other.
Hermione walked through it slowly, hands in her pockets, taking it all in. Familiar and not.
Isn't this the place where some fifth-year transfer student used ancient magic to pelt a troll with everything she could get her hands on?
Then her mind shifted, a small tremor, like a page turning.
[Charms]
[Transfiguration: Animagus (Dog)]
She understood immediately.
...
In the shadow of a narrow alley, a big black dog paced in tight circles, head swiveling.
"Strange. Where did she go?"
It had been watching the girl. It hadn't looked away. She'd simply stopped being there.
Had she spotted him? Impossible. An Animagus was difficult to detect even for trained wizards.
He checked the surrounding area twice more. Nothing.
The dog went still in the alley with no clear next move.
"Looking for me?"
He spun around.
A black cat sat behind him, perfectly calm, as if she'd always been there. Emerald eyes with vertical pupils regarded him without blinking, the kind of gaze that felt like it went several layers deeper than the surface.
The cat rose and walked toward him, unhurried, each step precise.
Well. Let's see... little Siri, a very agile dog.
Something shifted in the dog's eyes. A flicker of shock breaking through.
"Hermione Granger?" The voice was low and rough.
The black cat gave a single, slight nod.
"You're — you're an Animagus?" The disbelief was genuine.
"Sirius Black." Hermione's voice was cool and even. "Famous escapee from Azkaban. Harry Potter is right here in the village, and you're following me. Why?"
Sirius was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, the defeat in his voice was faint but real.
"I wanted to see what kind of people Harry has around him."
The Animagus form he'd always been proud of, seen through instantly, without effort.
"Then go find Ron," Hermione said. "Harry and I aren't particularly close."
"No." A thread of wariness ran through Sirius's voice now. "You're dangerous. More dangerous than anyone else near him."
He'd heard plenty since breaking out. Her name came up in places it shouldn't. The Ministry incident had made some noise. And he knew what to feel about it, he was glad Harry had someone powerful in his corner, and he was afraid of exactly that, because Peter had taught him what a friend with an agenda could do to someone who trusted them.
"Even if I am dangerous." A faint smile crossed the black cat's face, cold amusement flickering in those slit pupils. "Sirius. What are you going to do about it?"
She tilted her head.
"Fight me?"
➤ Next: Shihouin Hermione — The Conversation
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