So, yeah. It's been about a month. Kind of wish it hadn't been as long, but if it's any consolation, this chapter is over 7000 words. Also its (finally; finally) from Hermione's perspective. I've been dying to write her for fucking ages, so I hope you enjoy her perspective :D

Thank-you to everyone who reviewed! Your contributions are always cherished!

Part Three: In Which

Chapter Four: More Dragons are Required

"Umm." A woman says behind her, "This isn't normally occupied."

Hermione jumps, but restrains herself from drawing her wand. She turns and smiles at the young woman in the obscenely bright Christmas sweater that stands awkwardly in the doorway of her lab, "I've been here a few weeks now."

The woman gives her a one-shouldered shrug, "I've been away a few weeks. My boss doesn't exactly pay much attention to things around her. Like new lab buddies."

Hermione's lips quirk upwards, "Science seems to have that effect on the people in this tower, I've noticed."

The other woman wiggles her eyebrows in affirmation, "Story of my life." She steps forward, thrusting out her hand- her nails match the sweater, Hermione notices, "Darcy Lewis. Scientist Herder.'

Hermione lets out a startled laugh, "Scientist Herder?"

Darcy wiggles her eyebrows again, "Far more precarious than cat herding. Trust me. More explosions for one."

Hermione's mind fills with examples of science gone wrong at the hands of a bored Tony Stark, "No, I can believe that." She glances around the lab sheepishly- many of the whiteboards she'd insisted on getting have runes and arithmantic equations and calculations written across them- it must look bizarre to a third party, "Hermione Granger. Not quite a scientist- more like an occult specialist."

Darcy eyes one of her boards doubtfully, "This looks like maths on crack."

She laughs, "In a way you'd probably be right."

A grin twitches at the other woman's maroon lips, "So the occult… like, voodoo and stuff? Never knew it had so much maths."

Hermione shrugs, unwilling to give away too much to a woman she's never met before- even if she obviously has the security clearance to work in one of the labs, "It falls under the spectrum I suppose." A thought suddenly occurs to her and she frowns, "This is a restricted area… how did you get in here?"

Darcy's lips quirk again, "J and I are total bro's." The grin grows wider, "And apparently, you haven't changed the passcode. I used to come down here on my lunch breaks."

Hermione rolls her eyes sheepishly. Typical she'd forget about security measures like that. Then again, the wards she put up when leaving were a pretty heavy deterrent for any would-be trespassers, "Used to?"

Darcy holds up a paper bag, wiggling it as she talks, "I've been on holidays the last few weeks. Guess a lot's changed since I've been gone; not that Jane thought to tell me."

"Jane- Jane Foster? You're her assistant?"

Darcy huffs a laugh through her nose, "That famous, huh?"

She shrugs, and sits down, relaxing slightly at the familiar ground, "Thor had been lamenting your loss. Apparently Jane forgets things like sleep when you're not around to badger her." Not that it was atypical behaviour for the scientists she knew in the Tower. Tony had a tendency go on for days without a full night's sleep when inspiration took him; stopping only for the occasional catnap or slice of pizza. How he didn't have a head full of grey hair or died of exhaustion was beyond her.

Darcy rolls her eyes, "Like I said; scientist herder. Genius breeds insomniacs. Kind of a shock after working with, you know- normal people- all my life."

"I can imagine." Darcy grabs a nearby wheelie chair and sits- giving it a twirl as she does so.

"So, Hermione of the Grange; how does an occult specialist end up in a place like Stark's monument to himself? And get to know Thor too; this is something I have to hear."

She doesn't tell Darcy why she's here; or at least, not the full story. But she does enjoy the other woman's company for the next hour.

Hermione loves her lab.

It reminds her of home. It's nothing like her old one of course- there's far too much technology embedded in the room for that, and the lines of the lab are too clean and modern- but the essence of the space is almost identical to the one she'd fitted into her first home- the one she'd made for herself after Ron. Her lab is a place of learning; of pushing barriers and testing and redefining theories and hypotheses. It's a sanctuary and a refuge. She can't thank Tony enough for the space.

At the moment she's working on integrating magic with one of Tony's Starkphone's. It's tricky work, trying to alter its capabilities and making it compatible with the unpredictable levels of magic she and her companions naturally emit. It's not exactly new or ground-breaking work- certainly not in their universe- but in the wizarding world magitech was a heavily patented and jealously guarded niche market, dominated by small-time business that all dreamed of making it as big as their muggle counterparts.

The Ministry however- thanks to their insular policies and muggle-phobic ideals- was largely uninterested in investing in such developments, meaning that Hermione has next to no experience in the area. It's slow going and expensive work, much of which is trial and error. After a month of work she's already gone through about twenty phones, and her bench spaces are littered with phone components, dissected batteries and circuit boards in various states of brokenness (the parts that are still functioning are relegated to a far smaller pile in the far corner of her workshop). Draco helps some days, but he knows even less about magitech than she does (and Harry… well, Harry's strengths have always lain in defensive magics. Research and experimentation had never been his thing). Their lack of experience and knowledge in the area led to some interesting moments.

"Bloody hell!" Draco snarls, angrily tossing the smoking remnants of a battery onto the pile of similarly ruined pile of technology.

Hermione snorts, "I told you that rune wouldn't work." The blonde glares at her. She grins at him; all teeth, "Flexibility unbalances the enhancement runes. It see-saws between too much power and too little, growing quicker on each cycle. The flux makes it overheat."

"Yes, well I know that now. You don't have to be so bloody smug about it."

"It's an involuntary reaction to moments when I am inadvertently correct. I can't help it."

Draco rolls his eyes, "I call bullshit." Hermione throws a ball of paper at his head when he turns away. The wizard makes an indignant sound, "What are you, five?"

She gives him the side eye, "Do I look five years old to you?"

"Well you're no Potter, that's for sure."

She opens her mouth to retort (she kind of loved their little snark-athons) but is interrupted by the fwish of the lab door.

"Yo Granger! Where's your boyfr- oh."

"Darcy, hi. It's nice to see you too. Please just come right on in." Darcy and Tony have the irritating propensity to enter without asking for permission, she'd learnt. The younger woman's been over several times in the last few weeks; and Hermione gets the sense that she's taken her under her metaphorical wing; adding her to her slowly growing menagerie of scientists. She's not entirely sure what to think about the idea; she'd like to imagine she was far more capable of taking care of herself than Jane or Tony. Even so, Hermione wasn't afraid to say that she enjoyed the Herder's presence. She was witty, sarcastic and intelligent, in her own way.

"Hey." The woman replies, unaffected by her sarcasm. She nods at Draco, "I didn't know you even got guests. I thought you were a hermit, like Jane."

"Only when it suits me. This is Draco Malfoy; an associate of mine. Malfoy this is Darcy Lewis. She works with Jane Foster."

Darcy eyes him speculatively. Draco appears to be doing the same, only with far more suspicion. The other woman's lips twitch up into a smirk, "A pleasure." She purrs. Hermione's eyes widen (because no. Just… no), but Malfoy's mouth spreads into a smirk that mirrors Darcy's.

"Miss Lewis. Lovely to make your acquaintance." And then the bastard kisses her hand. Hermione fights a shudder and from the glance he throws her way, she's entirely sure he's doing it to get on her nerves. The incorrigible twat.

A light blush spreads across Darcy's cheeks when he pulls back, but she looks entirely too smug for Hermione's comfort, "Yeah."

Malfoy looks back at his desk, a flicker of past irritation crossing his face. He sighs. It sounds genuine, "I don't think I'm going to get much more done today. I'm going to give it a break for today."

Hermione waves at him dismissively, "Go ahead." She doesn't mind; it's not as if he is a constant companion anyway, and Draco Malfoy was a person that needed to be taken in relatively small doses. She'd end up killing him out of irritation otherwise, "I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Miss Lewis." He leaves the lab, but not without a final once over of Darcy. She flutters her eyelashes at him, and Hermione's entirely sure that if she'd been wearing a low-cut top his eyes would be planted firmly on her breasts. She rolls her eyes fiercely as he exits and picks up the mug of tea she'd forgotten she'd made.

Darcy lets out a low whistle as soon as the door closes behind him, "Hot damn. If that's what all occult specialists look like, then sign me up."

Hermione chokes on her cold tea, "Oh God- please no. He's a twat."

The curvier woman looks put out but hopeful; "A charming twat? Because I can work with that. Really I'd like to just climb him like a tree."

She groans and rubs her face, "Not a mental image I needed, thank-you."

Darcy grins, "I aim to please."

"You aim at something; not sure it's pleasing though. What was it you wanted?"

Darcy's face darkens, "I've a bone to pick with Stark. Pretty sure he gave coffee maker sentience, and now it refuses to make anything but babyccinos." Hermione grimaces at the thought, "Exactly. The thing's damn near indestructible too- and I'm pretty sure the bastard welded it to the wall, and he locked me out of his labs, so I can't find him anywhere."

Hermione hides her amusement behind her cold cup of tea. Darcy's eyes narrow anyway, "Oh no. You don't get to laugh at our misery Miss I-only-drink-tea-'cause-I'm-British. Nu-uh."

She does laugh then, "I don't know where he is. He said something about a hammer this morning?"

Darcy raises a brow. It's very artful, "You're not sure? This is your boyfriend we're talking about right now, you realise. I feel like there should be more concern here."

Hermione shrugs helplessly, "I was working! He was in and out before I had a chance to register it all." Her eyes veer off to the work bench suspiciously clear of things in the far end of the room. His farewell had been rather… enthusiastic. She wasn't about to complain.

Darcy smirks and nods at something in the general direction of her neck, "Well I'm sure he was in and out of something."

Hermione splutters and slaps a hand to her neck where she's absolutely sure a hickey must be sitting, her face growing hot, but can't bring herself to say anything. It was a very good farewell. Darcy snorts and points towards to bench, "Well I really hope you disinfected that afterwards.

"Yes." She manages to deliver with some semblance of a deadpan tone.

The other woman shrugs and moves back onto the original point of conversation, "What's he want a hammer for, anyway? Is he going to buy one? I though that's what his 'people' were for."

Hermione scrunches up her face, "I think I remember him saying something about his suit to Jarvis before he left."

Darcy stares at her, bewildered, "He took his suit to go to the hardware store? Are you sure he wasn't just after Mew-mew?"

She purses her lips, embarrassed. She's not normally this uninformative, "Well it may not have been an actual hammer. I was a little distracted, and he kind of just garbled some words at me."

Darcy chews on her lip, thoughtful, "Hammer Industries used to be one of SI's major weapons competitors, but they went bankrupt a couple years ago; Justin Hammer went to jail and everything." She looks up at the ceiling, "Jarvis, is Stark doing something in regards to Justin Hammer?"

"I apologise, Miss Lewis, but I am unable to divulge the purpose of Sir's mission at this point in time."

She pouts, but shrugs her shoulders, "Avengers stuff then, I guess."

"I guess." Hermione echoes. There's a feeling of concern insidiously wrapping its way around her ribcage at Jarvis' lack of information. She tells herself it's only mildly unreasonable to be worried.

Darcy glances down at her watch, and then at the door. She sighs "Well, if I can't get my fix here, Starbucks will have to do." She raises her brow at Hermione again, "You up for an adventure, Granger?"

She stares into her ruined tea. A chai latte sounded pretty good right now, "I don't really think a trip to level three counts as an adventure."

She snorts, "Then you've never been to a New York coffee shop at lunchtime. Aren't you in for a treat."

SHIELD gives them the all clear three weeks before Christmas.

Draco celebrates the announcement by disappearing at the first opportunity, his only promise that he'd be back is a muttered 'see you in a week' to Hermione. She's not worried though; for all the blonde's posturing, she's fairly sure he likes the Tower. Maybe not like Harry and her, but enough to at least return after his trip to who knows where.

She doesn't dwell on it all that much, really. In all honesty, she'd always seen the agreement they'd made with SHIELD as more of a token deal, designed to imply their cooperation. Hermione was more than confident that if it came down to it, there was little SHIELD could do against them breaking it- if they so felt like it (she didn't even have to think about the incident with Loki to know that SHIELD and the Avengers were largely unprepared to deal with magic users). She was convinced that the three of them would be more than capable of hiding or defending themselves against the organisation.

Not that she planned on going up against SHIELD- for the most part it was alright- but there's always been something about faceless organisations with seemingly endless power and bottomless pockets that left her leery and on edge. There is no doubt in her mind that SHIELD holds its own multitude of secret and unspoken agendas, and that was hardly a situation she was going to hand herself into willingly- certainly not without an exit strategy. But in the meantime, the agreement suited her. She had her closest friend, secure living quarters and a support network that guaranteed her and Harry's safety in the future.

Harry takes the opportunity to disappear into the city- he takes Steve along with him most times, but the first few days he explored the city alone. The younger man is a local, after all (time displacement or not), and she knows Harry likes Steve's company, and Steve his (though honestly, Hermione suspect Steve just enjoys the opportunity to leave the Tower with someone who isn't a teammate). She doesn't offer to go along with them; she's been in close contact with Harry for far too long, and best friends or not, both of them need the separation (as it was, she was fortunate to have the lab Tony had offered her, to escape to when people became too much).

She doesn't bother going anywhere the first couple of days; she'd hit a breakthrough in the storage capabilities of the phone, and hadn't wanted to be distracted, but now that all the kinks have been worked out she's keen to venture out of the Tower. She chooses to go to Central Park- it's somewhere she'd wanted to check out ever since they were palmed off to the Avengers, but all of her housemates were far too high profile to be able to travel anywhere with any level of anonymity.

The air outside is freezing and the wind is even worse and she loves every minute of it; even though the sky has the look of rain about it and her feet are aching by the time she reaches the well-known park. She hasn't walked any kind of distance for a long time, and she's almost embarrassed by how unfit she is. In the long years after the War, paranoia had kept her fit; the memories of the time left her edgy and unsettled in a way that only running or duelling could dissipate. As she'd grown older and her wounds had healed and scarred, the running decreased to long walks- petering out when the resurgence of Death Eaters had made travelling alone too dangerous.

She resolves to start running again, and duelling with Harry (and Draco, possibly). They'd have to find a patch of wilderness and ward the crap out of it, but she's sure in a continent as large as North America there'd be plenty of spaces to choose from.

Even Central Park would be a good place, she notes in amusement, halfway through the park. With its open spaces, forested areas and even the ponds and lakes… it was perfect for the task… well, were it not for all the people. Even less than three weeks from Christmas with winter coming in full force, the park is filled with enough people to have her on guard. Many of them are tourists, if the multitude of large, chunky cameras are anything to go by, but there are still plenty of locals. She sits at one of the numerous benches and rests her umbrella beside her knee.

She stays like that- people watching- for well over an hour, happy to let her mind go blank and comfortably warm beneath a blanket of magic. When the rain falls, she sighs and pulls out her phone. She draws a rune on the screen, disengaging the rudimentary shields surrounding it. She and Malfoy hadn't gotten so far as to create fully functioning magitech so the shielding was only a makeshift solution to the problem. It protected the phone from any strong bursts of magic, but it also blocked out the phone signals itself, rendering it completely useless as a phone when the shielding was up.

The screen lights up with a new message almost immediately, Where are you? The text from Tony reads, I'm bored and you disappeared.

She rolls her eyes, but can't stop the smile that tugs at her lips. It feels nice to be wanted, Go be bored with Bruce. I'm out.

The reply is almost instantaneous, Not bored for Science. A pause, then a new message, should I be worried.

She shakes her head. The man probably knew exactly where she was already. She doesn't put it past him to locate her through her phone's gps the moment it came back in range, Yes, I'm meeting my new beau. I found this one on Craigslist… Your services are no longer needed.

Tony sends her back a picture of him making out with Dum-E in retaliation. She bursts into laughter. The couple hurrying past her jump and send her odd looks.

I wanted some time alone.

So you went to a place full of people?

She huffs a laugh and hitches her carefully balanced umbrella a bit higher on her shoulder, There's a certain anonymity public places afford you. She thinks better of that statement as soon as she presses send, Well, maybe not for you…

Haha Queenie.

I'm hilarious.

Up for debate. She pouts, Don't pout.

The pout is replaced by a frown. Her eyes stray to the innocuous forward facing camera of her phone, a suspicion growing in her mind, Are you watching me through my phone?!

The device vibrates softly in her hand as a series of texts come through, Don't be ridiculous.

Big Brother style surveillance is a stretch, even for me.

For one, that monstrosity of yours doesn't have enough reception.

Also- weird. You already live in the same building as me. Further stalking isn't necessary.

And I'd like to think I know you pretty well by now, Queenie.

She fights a smile, but that little sliver of unease remains in her mind. She likes Tony- a lot. To the extent that she's sure she could love him, if it came down to it. But… his idea of privacy and personal boundaries are strangely skewed and twisted. She suspects it's partly the result of being surrounded by Jarvis twenty-four-seven. The awareness that a fully sentient AI knew where you were and what you were doing all of the time was bound to mess with one's social mores. That, coupled with the ease of life that money could buy, and his own infamy meant that it was easy for him to forget that not everyone shared his oddly lax yet remarkably tough views on privacy. The thought worries her, sometimes. His lopsided principles must have gained him an awful lot of enemies by now.

Don't spy on me unless I let you.

Tony sends her through an eye-rolling emoji. Like I'd want to risk being turned into a newt. She grins, and another text comes through, Could say the same thing for you. :P Her smile fades, but she hopes the emoji attached implies that he's not actually angry at her. She couldn't blame him if he was; in hindsight it was a pretty hypocritical thing to say.

Duly noted. A policeman passes her on a pushbike. She watches him glide past- he must be freezing.

Will you come home now? Still bored.

Hermione snorts. She's fairly sure the entire premise of this conversation had been Tony's 'subtle' way of making a booty call. Give me five. She replies, and draws the protection rune back on the screen. It goes dark and she slips in back into her coat pocket. She smooths down the creases in the wool as she stands, stomping her feet to get the blood moving again.

She moves away, back towards a spot she'd noticed before; private, secluded and obscenely muddy- the best muggle repellent of all in winter. She soldiers through the slippery surface, only stumbling once. Her sneakers are filthy by the time she reaches the copse of trees. She crouches down low, minimising her silhouette, and with a precursory glance at the space around her, smiles and apparates away.

The soft pop her passing leaves behind alerts nothing but a startled pigeon.

"I need you."

Hermione looks up from her careful work of a circuit board. Darcy stands beside her workbench, looking on curiously. Hermione grips her wand a little tighter. She really should remember to update the security codes sometime. It's not that she distrusts Darcy, but she doesn't know how much she knows; and how much she's allowed to know. So far she's been fairly close-lipped about her work (even if everything is out in the air in her lab, she's acutely aware that almost all of it is completely indecipherable to anyone who isn't a wizard)- unwilling to tell her something that she's not allowed to hear.

"You do?" She asks carefully. Darcy tears her eyes away from the circuit board- and more importantly, her wand.

"Yeah. I just got my Christmas bonus- yay me- and I want something pretty. We're going shopping."

Hermione blinks in surprise. This is the first invite she's received from Darcy to do something out of the Tower- to be truthful she hadn't really expected anything of the sort- not for some time anyway, but the inclusion leaves her feeling warm and content inside. Even so, she purses her lips, "It's the week before Christmas; you realise that, right? The shops will be absolutely psychotic."

Darcy grins. It's a little vicious around the edges. Hermione feels like she should be a little scared, "I know, right! C'mon, it'll be great."

She grimaces at the thought, "Why aren't you taking Jane?"

Darcy sends her a look of horror, "Are you kidding me? I love Janey, but the woman wears plaid on a regular basis. Plaid, Hermione. It's awful."

Her lips quirk up; she had noticed that, "Not a shopping fan?"

Darcy shakes her head in an emphatic no, "No. God no. Or an eating fan, or a sleeping fan- occasionally not a shower fan either. She is a Thor fan though." The younger woman wiggles her eyebrows lewdly and Hermione laughs and rolls her eyes.

"Is this a now thing? Or can I at least get changed first?"

Darcy gives her a once-over; quick and clinical, "You can get changed, I suppose. You'll need your coat, at any rate."

Hermione snorts, "Gee thanks." She stands, packing her work away safely and running her fingers across the long string of runes carved into the metal work bench. They thrum beneath her fingers as they activate and form a ward over her work. The wards protected the electronics inside from contamination and held any unfinished spells in place until they could be completed. It was an invaluable trick she'd learnt as an Unspeakable.

She sends Darcy an expectant look at the door, "You coming?" The girl's eyes widen momentarily at the invite, but she nods and follows her to the elevator.

"I've not been on this level before." She remarks as they exit the lift, "To be fair, I hadn't really thought much about where you live-slash-sleep." Hermione makes a non-committal noise.

"It's only Harry, Draco and I here." Though Merlin only knew where Malfoy was at the moment. He'd turned up a couple of days ago, looking pink-faced and wind-burnt, but he'd only stayed the night, disappearing again the next morning. She's not even sure he'll be back for Christmas (or if he would even want to be).

Darcy hums, "Must be nice, living on top of where you work."

Hermione sends her a nonplussed look, "You don't?" Honestly, knowing Tony's habit of inviting people into the tower, she'd have thought she'd be right here with Doctor Foster.

"Well, he offered, and Jane was kind of insistent of me living with her, but as tempting as it sounds, Thor has a tendency to walk around naked, and he and Jane have really, really loud sex."

Hermione blinks, "I did not want to have to think about that. And now I am. So thank-you for that."

"No worries." Darcy replies cheerfully, "And you know, I wanted to experience New York's abhorrent rental prospects for myself."

She raises an eyebrow, "And how's that going for you?"

Darcy laughs, "Well the week before last the cops raided the room down the hall from me for drugs, and I'm pretty sure the mould in my bathroom is about to gain sentience, but who cares about silly things like that."

Hermione stares at her in disbelief, "That's not really a comforting thing to hear."

"I like to think of it as an adventure, every day. And besides, I always have my plus two gun of power with me. I'm pretty safe."

"… Right." She swipes her hand across the sensors on her door and lets them in.

Darcy lets out a low whistle as they walk inside, "Holy shit, dude. This is a sweet pad."

Hermione looks around the spacious living area. It is pretty nice, she's sure- though a little too modern for her tastes (a little to personalityless)- but she honestly doesn't spend enough time in the apartment for it to matter. To her, the space is still only living quarters- a place to sleep and maybe watch a little TV.

She shakes her shoes off, debating whether she should start thinking of it as a home- start decorating it, turning it into a place that was lived in. The concept hurts- the idea of calling the apartment home suggests a reluctance to return to their own universe. It says that they've discarded their old world; have accepted this new place as their own. It feels a lot like giving up, even though she knows logically she'd started thinking of the Tower as home months ago.

The fact that she doesn't even want to go back only makes her feel worse. She misses her friends and family fiercely, and the guilt of leaving them to the troubles of Magical Britain weighs on her mind and keeps up her at night frequently. But she can't help the reluctance that sits in the bottom of her gut at the thought of going back.

She shakes off the rising depression and forces on a smile for her house guest, "It's bigger than anywhere I've lived before." It's not a lie, at least. Although the inside of the tent she'd shared with Ron and Harry could possibly give it a run for its money (and Lord, but wouldn't that send Tony into an apoplectic fit).

Darcy sends her a look of commiseration, "I bet your bathroom is bigger than my bedroom."

Her lips twitch, "Quite possibly."

"Mhmm, now git. My bank account is not going to just empty itself on its own."

"Going."

When she comes out, dressed in the jeans she'd bought the last time she'd gone out with Natasha, and a baggy grey-blue sweater (far less ugly than Darcy's) slapped over what she'd already been wearing, she finds Darcy and Harry chatting in the kitchen. Or rather, Darcy chatting at Harry, whilst he makes himself a cup of tea. He only looks mildly confused by whatever she's talking about (she doesn't blame him; Darcy is a walking, talking pop-culture reference). They both turn towards her as she enters.

"Hey Hermione." Harry greets. She smiles warmly.

"Hey. Have fun?"

He shrugs. The last few days he'd been looking for an appropriate duelling ground for them, "Not as much as it looks like you're about to have."

Darcy grins, moving to take Hermione's arm not laden with a coat and handbag (a gift from Tony; one she'd quickly extended to replace the mess of her old beaded bag). "So much fun."

Hermione rolls her eyes; by this point she's not entirely sure Darcy is entirely sane, "I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Have fun; stay safe." He nods at the other woman, "Nice to meet you Darcy." Hermione blinks. She hadn't realised the pair hadn't met before.

"You too."

She turns back to Darcy when they leave the apartment, "I'm sorry. If I'd known you and Harry hadn't met I'd have introduced you earlier."

Darcy shrugs, "It was only a little surprise; I mean, I know you said you lived with Harry and Draco, but I thought you just meant on the same floor." She huffs, and then laughs, "God, but that kid is adorable, isn't he?"

Hermione can't help but laugh as they walk back into the lift, "Don't let him hear you say that."

"Hmm. But what's the story there? He like, your little brother or something? I'd say illegitimate love-child, but you're way too young."

She splutters, "I- God, no. He's my best friend. And he's a lot older than he looks. He's just got… good genes."

Darcy sighs wistfully, "Don't we all wish for good jeans."

"… I don't think you and I are thinking of the same kind of jeans."

True to the New York winters, it's freezing outside. She pulls her coat on a little tighter, "So, where are we going?" Despite herself, she'd rather looking forward to the outing. She wasn't always the biggest fan of shopping- not by herself, at any rate- but she enjoyed it in the company of friends.

Darcy smacks her lips, already dragging her into the throng of commuters filling the sidewalks, "Well, at first I was thinking, op shopping, but then I looked at my pay check and thought- what the hey, it's Christmas. So we're going to Macy's. And then- 'cause it's Christmas, we're going to Union Square. They've some fantastic markets there. I figure we can use that snazzy Time-Lordian bag of yours to stow all our stuff."

Hermione startles; stopping in her tracks. Darcy almost trips at her arrested momentum, "What?!"

The Scientist Herder gives her one of those funny little smiles, "Jane may not be an incorrigible gossip like Thor, but she just wouldn't shut up about that bag. Or, like, you in general. For like, a week. FYI; she wants one. Badly. Also she thinks you're broken. Like, physics wise; you're broken and you should feel bad."

Hermione grimaces; she's starting to think she should maybe start establishing some boundaries about these kinds of things. "I'm not sure you're supposed to know that."

"Hey, what's one more non-disclosure statement among friends? It's not like I'm not drowning in gag orders already."

She hums noncommittally, and allows Darcy to drag her along once again. She can only hope none of this will come back to stab them in the back later on.

Hermione ends up having quite a good time.

True to her prediction, the shops are filled to bursting with people, but the two of them still manage to find a few nice things. Shopping with Darcy, she finds, is a lot like shopping with Natasha (there is a great deal of bossing around going on), only with more snark and a far more lucid dialogue. She buys a few new clothes (on the card Tony had all but forced on her months ago) some sinfully soft sweater-dresses; a new pair of boots; a hat (at Darcy's insistence) and a lingerie ensemble- also on Darcy's insistence- that has her blushing furiously at the register when she pays for it (in stark contrast, the girl looks like she just wants to go home).

By the time they get to the markets in Union Square, night has well and truly fallen, and the markets are bathed in warm yellow lights. The candy-striped stalls are lined with holly, laced with fairly lights and the paths are filled with people inspecting wares and haggling prices and eating exotic foods that smell divine. All it needs are children zipping around on toy broomsticks and the pungent smell of potion stalls and she'd be right back in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley at Christmas. The thought hurts and she immerses herself in the sights and smells of the present to counter it.

She ends up buying a great deal- far more than Darcy does (then again, she'd spent most of hers at Macy's)- but she only feels slightly guilty about the amount of money she spends (after all, she was on the SI payroll). It's Christmas, at any rate and much of what she's buying is destined to be gifted to the collection of extraordinary people she's ended up with. The gifts comfort her, and when they finally leave the markets, her spirits are high and she feels more content than she has in a long time.

On the walk back, Darcy bemoans her aching feet. Hermione is unsympathetic.

"It was your idea to go shopping. Typically such ventures involve lots of walking."

"But I didn't think you'd want to spend so long at the markets! Jesus; I think you spent more money there than at- scratch that, I know you spent more there than Macy's."

Hermione shrugs, "Markets are a weakness of mine. They remind me of home."

Darcy grows quiet and the walk in silence for a minute. Unsure of what she's done wrong, Hermione hitches her bag a little higher. Away from the markets, the darkened streets leave her a little nervous; even filled with people as they still are.

"You never talk about your home." Darcy says finally, "Thor says you're something like refugees."

Hermione huffs a laugh through her nose, "Yeah, that's a pretty good way of putting it. There's no going back."

Darcy clasps her hand in comfort. Her fingers and icy and ungloved. But Hermione squeezes them back all the same, "What was it like? Your world?"

She watches the New Yorkers hurry past, oblivious and uncaring, "Beautiful. Terrible. A world where anything was possible, and nothing was achieved."

Darcy scrunches her nose, "Sounds kind of crap."

She laughs softly and squeezes the other woman's hand a little tighter, "Yeah, a little. But it was pretty amazing too. More often than not they balanced themselves out… For a time, anyway."

"This world is pretty fucking fantastic too, you know."

She thinks of the Tower, filled with wonderful people; of Tony. Of Steve and Natasha and Thor and Bruce and Clint. Perfect, flawed people, all of them. All a part of the niche she and Harry are slowly but surely carving for themselves, "Yeah. It's not too shabby. Needs more dragons though."

Darcy laughs heartily and swings their hands widely, "Well obviously."

They walk past a narrow service road between two buildings- it's the kind of place that one expects to be mobbed in, to be honest. The city-dweller in her has her holding her handbag even tighter. A slip of colour catches her eye though, and she doubles back, pulling Darcy along by their conjoined hands.

"Hermione, what-"

She shushes her and lets go, drawing cautiously into the alley. The filth of it all reminds her of her first day- frightened and hurting. She wonders absently what had happened to the man that had helped her. There- again. A swipe of orange amongst the dark. She smiles, crouching down to lower her profile and extending her hand to click and rub her fingers.

"Puss, puss." She croons, and the flash of green reflects back in the light that seeps in from the main street. Darcy remains silent behind her, clued into it all now.

"Puss, puss." She says again, adding a lick of magic to it (Harry had been teaching her his new tricks; she's proud to say she was almost as proficient as he was at it already). She takes a small step forwards and the cat doesn't flinch or run away. As her eyes adjust to the dark, she sees the animal regard her curiously. It's young- still a kitten, but far past the stage of being small and helpless- and rake thin. The kind of thinness that spoke of abandonment and malnourishment. She suppresses her anger as she takes in the long, matted fur; some parts look like they would have to be cut off.

"Come here, Cat." She says softly, winding the magic into her words like a tapestry. The cat remains beside its upturned cardboard box a moment- still wary, but not afraid- before drawing forwards to sniff cautiously at her fingers. She smiles, "Hello Cat."

It's not like her old Crookshanks- it's ears are large, with an angular, rather smug-looking face. The dirty white bib beneath its chin almost looks like a beard, and his long, droopy whiskers only add to the effect. She chuckles as it rubs its head against her hand, "Aren't you handsome, hmm? Seems a shame for you to be left out here for Christmas. You have a home, Cat?"

He looks up at her, giving her an unimpressed glare. She runs a hand slowly over its matted back- no sign of a collar, and the box would imply he'd been dumped- she can see an old towel sitting inside the damp shelter. She sighs, "Guess not."

"Mrrow." The cat says in reply; a soft, nasally sound. He turns to rub his head against her hand again.

"Dude." Darcy remarks as he moves to brush against her kneeling legs, "Those are some serious cat wooing skills you have there."

She laughs softly, and runs her nails down his back. His skin ripples beneath her fingers, and she can hear the beginnings of a purr beneath the background noise of the street behind them. "Call it a latent talent."

The cat gives her an assessing stare, his topaz yellow eyes taking her in. "Mrrt." He says definitively, and she must pass muster, because he decides then to climb up her arm and settle contentedly on her shoulders- pocketed somewhat in the hood of her coat. His long, fluffy tail curls possessively around her neck. She tries not think about the fleas; she'll deal with it when they get back.

Darcy blinks at her, open mouthed and shocked, "I've legit never seen a cat actually do that before." She breathes, "Dayum girl."

Hermione is inclined to agree with her. Maybe her magic had been more potent than she'd realised.

"You gonna take it back to the Tower? Please say yes; Tony would absolutely freak! Oh my God please let me be there to see it." Hermione laughs; Darcy's humour had a wicked streak to it that she could help but love (her cousin's children would have called her a troll, she's sure).

"How can I say no?"

Her companion grins, "What are you going to call it? If you say Ginger, I'm disowning you."

She snickers, "Do I look that unoriginal? No I…" She trails off, turning her head to regard the cat. He kneads his paws in her coat and rubs his face affectionately against her fingers when she brings her hand up for him. His rumbling purr reverberates through her neck; it's a comforting sensation, "What should I name you?" She asks softly. He doesn't reply.

Crookshanks felt too clichéd and nostalgic for her; and beyond that, he was already shaping up to be completely different from her first pet. For the life of her though, she couldn't think of anything to call him.

"I always thought Tobermory was a fabulous name for a cat." Darcy says, sidling closer to scratch at his head. He allows the contact, closing his eyes as she finds his sweet spot at the edge of his chin. His purring grows stronger.

"Tobermory?"

"Yeah; I saw this animated film a while back… can't remember what it was called, but it had a cat called Tobermory."

Hermione thinks on it. She does like the name; it's unusual enough for a cat, she thinks, "Tobermory." The cat's eyes slide over to her. He blinks at her slowly. She grins, "Yeah, alright."

"Great!" Darcy sighs in relief, "'Cause I'm fucking exhausted."

"Eager to get home, are we?" Hermione teases as they walk out of the alley. Most of the pedestrians barely spare them a second glance, and she's grateful when Tobermory is unphased by the sudden influx of people or the rolling gait of her shoulders as she walks. She keeps her shoulders as steady as possible anyway.

"You have no idea. I think my feet are legit about to fall off. Now c'mon, Cat Whisperer; let's go freak the fuck out of Tony. And afterwards, I'm crashing at yours."

Hermione laughs, "Please, by all means." She allows herself to be led down into the subway station again.

It feels very much like going home.

A/N: So, yes... Once upon a time, I had an aversion to Darcy Lewis. To me, she always seemed like one of those characters that was completely open to abuse by fanfic writers, because her character itself is so underdeveloped in Thor. Hence, I often thought/feared that she'd be turned into the dreaded Mary Sue/ author self insert. Which, to be fair, she is sometimes still made. But One Day, I succumbed, and blessedly discovered that there are a good number of excellent fics out there about her... and I may or may not have fallen in love with her. So, this is my contribution to the Fandom Bicycle.

Also. Cat. I like cats; Fun Fact. When I went to the pound and got my latest addition to the Cinna household, I legitimately had a cat do this. It was awesome. And for those that were wondering; Tobermory is the cat from the animated film Nocturna. Which is a fucking beautiful movie that you should all watch. Just sayin.

Anyways, I go back to uni tomorrow, so I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but hopefully it will be within the next month. Until then, I'll see ya'll later :)

Cinna