Potter!lock- Molly is sick of being one of the boys with Sherlock and John, and wants change in her progression with hers and sherlocks relationship. So she goes to Sherlocks brother, Mycroft and Greg for help.

Molly hooper was a muggle born, and had been victim to numerous rounds of torments concerning her blood status. That was until she met an unusual Ravenclaw, and his flamboyant Gryffindor companion. She had met the pair one afternoon, when she was subject to a slug-vomiting curse, performed by none other than Sally Donavon; a deleterious pure blood witch, belonging to Slytherin house. The two boys had bore witness to the curse placed cruelly upon the muggle born Ravenclaw, Molly. Needless to say, the boys acted in spite of not knowing the poor girl. The boys names were Sherlock and John. John went immediately to assist the girl, who was currently lying in a foetal position on the cold, hard slate, grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He supported the girls giddy and fragile frame, as colonies of slugs escaped her petite mouth.

Sherlock on the other hand, being of a cunning and wise mind, concocted an ingenious plan to strike Miss Donavon, and teach her a well earned lesson. His long fingers slipped into his trouser pocket, and fumbled for a purchase on a suspicious, cubic package forming a bulge in his left pocket. He pulled this package from the depths of the said pocket, and removed a single pastel, from a section of the organised box. Sherlock then proceeded to levitate such pastel, with excellent skill, using his carefully crafted dragon heart string and oak tree wand. Across the stone corridor, Sally was laughing with her mouth wide open, surrounded by her fellow Slytherin peers. Sherlock seized his chance, and commanded the pastel to fly across the hallway, at an accelerating velocity, with a direct path for the girls open mouth. Before she realised exactly what had just happened, Sally found a sweet lodged between her tongue and bottom row of teeth. All most instantaneously, crimson blood began to flow from her nose in an oozing waterfall.

The girls around her seemed momentarily shocked, but they soon realised that their friend had been fed a nose bleed nougat; another one of the legendary Weasley twins marvellous creations. Except it was not so wonderful, when it was sprung upon an unsuspecting victim. Sherlock simply laughed and walked over to Sally, who's blouse and Hogwarts robes, were seeped and stained with her blood. She scowled at him, as she realised it was him who had caused her current predicament. "YOU!" She snarled, which only resulted in two things. Blood to flow into her mouth, causing her to splutter, and causing Sherlock to laugh even harder.

It was after that, when he finally walked over to where John was crouched over the still-vomiting-slugs girl. When Sherlock got a closer look at her face he recognised her from his potions class. She was the shy, but intelligent Ravenclaw seeker, who was second in the class, besides himself. He also recognised her from his common room "Molly Hooper?" He stated. At this she simply nodded, as both forth year boys looked down at her. John finally said, "We should take her to Madam Promfrey." To which Sherlock simply nodded, and help his friend pull Molly to her feet, and supported her weight, as he shuffled her down the hall way. This was how the unlikely friendship blossomed.

Two years later Molly found herself lodged between Sherlock and John, listening to Professor Trelawney drone on about the mysterious art of Divination. Molly had long ago decided that divination was a waste of her time, she would have much rather have spent the time practicing silent charms, or better yet day dreaming. After Sherlock had punished Sally for what she did to Molly, she was silently fascinated by him, and had soon developed a spiralling and twisted love for the young man. She had generated an unhealthy obsession with his uncanny, yet subtle beauty, and she found herself lost in a trance, distracted by his perfect flaws. She often fantasised about the impossibility of him finding her ascetically pleasing, as she was plain and had a bizarre interest in the unknown, and the inevitability of death.

She would often dream about the prospect of her and Sherlock shaping a relationship in an array of dark magic and mystery, and how her life would change to make room for him. But these were only dreams, for she knew nothing of what he thought of her, and had been capsized in a boat of friendship, with no hope of escape. She was suddenly shaken out of the day dream, by a sharp pain piercing her bottom right rib. "OW!" She cried forgetting where she was. The class went silent. "Is there a problem Miss Hooper?" The professor asked. Molly's eyes widened before she muttered something about hitting her knee on the table. She looked down at the table whilst the class settled back into organised chaos. Then she turned to glare at Sherlock. "Why did you elbow me?" She spat. He just looked at her with a devious grin. "Because you were day dreaming, and leaning on me as well." They just stared at each other for a long moment. Before she said, "You could have just tapped me, instead of trying to break my ribs." He just laughed and elbowed her again. He enjoyed winding her up. But instead of the elbowing her in the ribs as he planned, she moved just the slightest, but it was enough to result in his elbow colliding with her right breast.

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and wince of pain, as she brought her hands up to hold her bruised breast. She leant forward and rested her head on the table, muffling her groan. Both Sherlock and John looked shocked. "Oh my god Molly, I'm so sorry." Sherlock said quickly. Her response was to kick him in the knee. "OW!" He groaned quietly to avoid the Professor's attention. She raised her head and glared at him. "If you ever elbow me in the breast again, I swear to god you will feel the worst pain imaginable in your groin. Understand?" He just grimaced a nodded. They carried on with the rest of the divination lesson like nothing had happened.

They walked out of the lesson, and proceeded to the great hall for lunch. John had told them he would meet them later as he had a potions detention. Molly and Sherlock walked side by side, and she was incredibly tempted to reach out and touch him, to hold his hand. But she didn't. She was only treated as one of the 'boys', she ignored her feelings most of the time, but occasionally they would be released from her body, in a flurry of emotions and deepest thoughts. She would all of a sudden crave Sherlock's closer companionship. It would dawn on her, like another monthly terror, and would bring her to the verge of tears and eat her alive as she believed she did not count, that she was only an tool to Sherlock. Little did she know Sherlock, felt the exact same way, only his feelings were masked by his calm and collected facade. If he had known how to act upon such feelings he would have jumped at her throat long before now. Except he was inexperienced and knew nothing about how to indulge in his feelings for Molly. He appeared to be waiting for a push in the right direction.

They walked in comfortable silence and sat opposite each other at the Ravenclaw table. Shortly after the hall was nearly full, the tables were suddenly filled with magnificent food. This was a normality at Hogwarts so all the pupils were used to this unusual delivery of food. However neither Molly nor Sherlock seemed to notice the appearance of lunch, as they seemed locked in a staring competition. But this was not a normal staring competition, since neither participant seemed to realise what they were doing. They just seemed lost in deep thought, as both of them seemed to be soaking up the others appearance. Unconsciously, they both seemed to lean forward, trying to get a closer look at one another. Sherlock was lost in her smouldering, chocolate iris' and she was as equally lost in his piercing, icy blue ones.

It was not until Molly leaned on her plate, that she realised food had appeared. "Oh." She sighed, finally breaking his gaze. He too looked down, and his shoulders deflated as he suddenly missed staring into her eyes. They finally helped themselves to lunch, and ate for the most part in silence until Sherlock said, "I didn't mean to hurt you earlier." She suddenly looked up at him. She gave him a pleasant smile to which he returned with a crooked one: the type of smile that made her heart flutter. "I know you didn't, but it was bloody painful." She responded, biting on her lip, which in turn drove him crazy. At this they both laughed in perfect synchronisation.

When it was time to leave, they both stood up, slung their bags over their shoulders, and after Molly had rolled her skirt up to keep it half way up her thigh, they walked together to Defence Against The Dark Arts. They walked around the corner and a girl ran right into Sherlock's chest. "Woah." He grumbled, annoyed at the contact. "Sorry!" She squealed and ran off again. Molly turned to look at him. "What was that about?" She asked. He shrugged and murmured, "No idea." Once they walked around the corner, they saw the most probable cause for the girls fleeing. Spells were being cast in quick motion and were ricocheting around the airy walkway.

Sherlock had to grab Molly by the shoulders and furiously yank her out of the way of an oncoming array of blue light. He pulled Molly sharply behind him, to protect her from the blast radius, as they ventured closer to the source of such chaos. At the centre he discovered John locked in a ferocious wand duel, with Gillian Anderson; a Slytherin boy, of whom Sherlock hated with an upmost disgust. Sherlock pulled his wand from his robe and stood next to John, pulling Molly along with him. "What is going on?" He demanded his friend to tell him. John looked at up at Sherlock reluctantly. "He called you a freak-" he started before Sherlock cut him off, "It doesn't bother me what he calls me! I've told you this before!" John just looked at Sherlock angrily. "You didn't let me finish! He called Molly a mudblood! Are you seriously telling me to not tear his head off?!" Sherlock's face went blank. Both Sherlock and John looked down at a wide eyed Molly, who looked as if she was on the verge of tears. Before either of them could say anything, she ran off, covering her face with her hands. Sherlock's expression changed to one of indignation, as his jaw locked, turning him to a creature of loathing.

"John, go find Molly and make sure she's okay." Sherlock breathed through clenched teeth. John suddenly looked weary, "Sherlock-" before he could utter another word, Sherlock hissed the word 'go' at him, and he reluctantly left Sherlock to deal with Anderson alone. Anderson simply laughed at Sherlock's deranged expression. Both young men raised their wands. "Give me your best shot Sherly." Anderson sneered. In a quick rapid fire, Sherlock shouted, "EXPELLIARMUS!" And Anderson's wand flew across the room, and shattered on the stone wall. Sherlock advanced and uttered, "Petrificus Totalus." This caused Anderson's arms and legs to lock in place and he crashed to the floor, unable to control his body. "Levicorpus." Sherlock commanded. With a flash of blinding white light, Anderson found himself floating mid air, upside down. "Don't you ever call Molly Hooper a mudblood again, or your injuries will be worse than just a concussion." Sherlock spat. And with that he used the nonverbal version of 'Liberacorpus' to send Anderson tumbling head first to the ground, aided by gravity. Just as he turned to walk away he heard someone shout his name. "SHERLOCK HOLMES! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!" A female voice shrieked. He rolled his eyes, and turned to face the wrath of Professor McGonagall.

After a long and tedious consultancy, with the headmaster, Aberforth Dumbledore, Sherlock was excused with a months worth of detentions, and a pardon from expulsion, with his excellent grades helping him out. He was accompanied by Professor McGonagall, who made sure he was delivered straight to Defence Against The Dark Arts. When he entered the cold room, he was met with curious looks, as the Professor spoke to his teacher. He walked the length of the room, and sat down next to Molly. Molly was frantic. "What did you do!?" She shrieked. He just rolled his eyes dramatically once again. "Please Molly, it's not like I killed him." She just glared at him, "What. Did. You. Do."

After Sherlock had recounted for both John and Molly what he had done to Anderson, and his punishment, Molly slapped him. He held his hand to his face, "What did you do that for!?" He snarled. Before he could protest, Molly also threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He heard her mutter 'Thank you.' She suddenly pulled back, and smiled at him for the second time that day. He grinned stupidly back at her. As the clock struck 2:00, the class was dismissed, and the three friends parted ways for their final lessons. Molly was to depart for Muggle Studies, whilst John and Sherlock were to leave for the Study of Ancient Runes. Molly muttered to Sherlock, 'see you in the common room' and told John she'd see him at dinner, and they went to their separate lessons.

For the remainder of the afternoon, Molly found her thoughts wonder once again to Sherlock. She had become tired of just being his 'guy friend' and craved more. But she didn't know how to proceed. She decided she needed outside help. With a smile she immediately concluded she would consult her brother Greg. He was a charmer and new exactly what to do, and how to talk to boys, as he himself was gay. She loved her brother dearly, but was saddened that he worked aboard as a dragon tamer, with his husband Mark. Both her and her brother had been muggle born, but her parents seemed delighted at the turn out. She knew she would have to send him an owl, to help her with her current problem. As her last lesson ended, she climbed the many necessary stairs to the Ravenclaw common room. She used the brass eagle to knock on the door, and the eagle asked her a riddle, before permitting her to enter. "Which came first, the Phoenix or the flame?" It asked in a high soprano voice. After a minute of silence, and deep concentration, she answered, "A circle has no beginning." At this the door creaked open, and allowed her to venture into her house common room. She walked quickly over to the plush sofa under the window, and began to write her letter, explicitly intended for her brother. After she had finished and placed her quill and ink in her trunk, she rushed to the Owlery, to use her snowy white owl, Snitch, to fly her message half way across the world. "Take care." She whispered, to none other than her beautiful owl, and watched as Snitch launched from her perch impeccably, and soared high out of the window.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was slouched in his chair, and listened to the silence of the dungeon room he occupied for his first of many long and torturous detentions. He had been sentenced to write the phrase, 'I will not use my magic to harm others' over and over again for his punishment. In the past 55 minutes he had scratched his quill across the parchment 738 times, and was now throughly bored. He had even taken to deducing the other members of the detention. They all had dull lives, containing nothing extraordinary, or at least worth his time and devotion. The supervising teacher was vaguely interesting for a brief second, when he had deduced she was having an affair with his Herbology instructor. He had observed this by the state of her robes, the mud on her ballet pumps and the slightly ruffled appearance of her hair. But quickly dismissed this deduction as it simply ceased to bore him. Unconsciously his inquisitive, and drugged damaged mind, turned to the revelation of Molly. Sherlock had discovered himself getting caught up in her every move, and seemed to relish in her very presence. He very much wanted to become closer to her, but was still clueless on the whole subject. He considered asking his brother Mycroft for advice, but banished the idea quickly to avoid the oncoming flood of embarrassment, that course of action would certainly bring. Not soon enough did the clock sound, and he leapt from his seat, and fled the dungeon, as quickly as his very long legs could carry him.

He took long strides as he walked the entire length and height of the school, just to reach Ravenclaw tower. As he eventually reached the top of the turret, slightly out of breath by now, he banged the knocker to hear the riddle which would allow him to enter. "Where do vanished objects go?" The shrill voice asked. He knew the answer almost instantly, "Into non-being, which is to say, everything." The door creaked open. He strode into the room and looked around at his fellow Ravenclaws. Most were chatting or completing homework, but the occasional few were buried deep within books. He saw no sign of Molly, and realised with a pang of annoyance she would have already left for Quidditch practice. She was the Ravenclaw seeker, and was an incredibly good one too. He sat down on the sofa pressed against the furthest away wall, north facing. He curled his legs up underneath him and buried his nose in an extremely thick book, which he had pulled from the depths of his back-pack.

It was not until after 5, that the Quidditch team, hurled through the door. He looked up from his book, realising his back was aching from his slouched position, so he stretched, attempting to unravel the tight knot in his lower back. As he placed the book down on his lap, Molly walked over to him and dropped down onto the sofa as well. For such a small girl, she took up and awful lot of space, when she was sprawled out. He simply laughed as she yawned. She joined in his laughter. She ruffled her freshly washed hair. "I'm starving." She stated matter of fact-ly. He just shrugged, "Aren't we all." She grinned at him. Something had put her in a positively good mood. "You seem happy." He said suddenly. "Do I?" She asked with another stupid grin. "Yes you do. What's made you so happy?" He responded. She opened her mouth to reply, before he said, "Wait don't tell me. You caught the snitch in a new personal record time of 1:37. And you've used your owl, to send mail to your brother." She cocked her head to the side, like a confused puppy, affectively asking how he knew. "You a seem even more perky than usual, and since you arrived from training, and since you've secured position as seeker, it has something to do with a personal catching best. Your previous best was 1:54, and seeing as it is humanly impossible to catch the said snitch in less than 1:20 your score would need to be roughly between the two figures. So approximately 1:37. You have traces of bird feed in your nails, and a smudge of blue ink on your left hand where the quill has splayed ink across the page, and your feeble attempts to rectify the damage. Blue suggests the letter was informal, meaning you would not send it to your parents, and given their oblivion to the magical world they would not be pleased by the delivery method. Ultimately this leaves your brother."

Molly just looked impressed as she laughed and poked him, lightly on the arm. "All correct! Where would I be with out my consulting detective, analysing my every move!" She laughed again, whilst standing up and ruffling his untamed black curls. "I'm going to get changed before I go to dinner. Wait for me, and we can walk together?" She announced. Sherlock looked up at her and half smiled. "Of course." He agreed. He himself decided to change into more comfortable muggle clothes. He pulled on a simple pair of black jeans, and a blue button down shirt. When he returned he noticed that most of the common room had changed clothes too, and were beginning to disperse for the great hall. She did not take long, and soon entered the common room wearing blue jeans that hugged her curved figure and an old baseball shirt. She had let her hair fall freely from its usual tight ponytail, and it hung just above her bottom ribs, whilst it framed her face in a thick curtain of dark brown locks. To Sherlock, she looked utterly flawless.

They walked down the stairs together and marched along the long winding corridors to the great hall. When they entered they both looked around the room, and spotted John and his girlfriend, Mary, sat at the Gryffindor table. They quickly crossed the room to join them. The headmaster did not mind the pupils mixing houses. In fact after the great battle of Hogwarts, integration between years and houses was encouraged, even more forcefully. Mary and John beamed at the two as they sat down; Sherlock next to John, opposite Molly who was strategically placed next to Mary, who was known for non-stop talking. Molly and Mary were deep in conversation about their Muggle Studies lesson, and something to do with beauty products. Whilst John and Sherlock ate in silence, only half participating in the muggle studies conversation, until John nudged Sherlock. He looked at his best friend, as John whispered, "Have you made a move on Molly yet?" This caused Sherlock to choke the sip of pumpkin juice he had just taken. The girls looked at him in alarm. "I'm fine." He managed to choke out.

After a minute he managed to calm down, and the girls slipped back into their debate on muggle vs magical beauty products. He whispered back to John, "Why would you say that?" John comically raised one eyebrow. "Seriously Sherlock, it's obvious she likes you." Sherlock's brows pulled together in confusion, "So?"

"So, you should ask her out! It's plain to see you like her back!" He uttered. If Sherlock looked confused before, he now looked completely lost. "I do not." He stated. John just laughed at the pout on Sherlock's face. John soon joined in with the girls' conversation, leaving Sherlock to enter his mind palace.

Sherlock pondered over what John had said, and the only thing he could think was, 'Is it really so obvious to everyone but me?' He was a master at recognising emotions and sentiment in people, but he was at loss when trying to understand the emotions, as a child he had detached himself from the world and the chemical defect of sentiment. He had wanted no part in such a thing, but in later years he soon discovered that he was to be subject to the emotions whether he consented or not. He had fallen head over heels for Molly over the past few years. He found her quirks to be intriguing to him, rather than repulsive like the rest of the magical world. She had an uncanny thirst for knowledge and thrived in the improbable surroundings of death. He found himself lust after her, with an incurable desire to claim her as his own. It's was animalistic, barbaric, but no matter how hard he resisted, he fell for her, and would contentedly die to keep her safe.

Except he had never acted upon these darkest thoughts, in fear of rejection. Truthfully he felt unworthy of her presence as she was incredible in very possible aspect. It saddened him that she did not know how he felt, and how she probably never would. He was shaken out of his mind palace by Molly calling his name; that was peculiar, no one had been able to break him out of his mind palace before. "Sherlock? Are you listening?" Molly called across the table. "Hmm?" He breathed. "Food's here." She replied pleasantly. He looked down at the meal, that had animated from thin air, in front him. John, Molly and Mary were still chatting absently while they ate, only this time Sherlock decided to join in with the conversation. They were discussing what had happened outside Defence Against The Dark Arts. Mary and Molly giggled when Sherlock told them about dangling Anderson upside down. "Sherlock, that was really naughty of you!" Molly gasped between giggles. He shrugged, "He deserved it. He called you something terrible." He stated. She stopped laughing and shrugged, whilst she looked down and mumbled, "It's not the first time." Sherlock reached across the table and lifted her chin with his index finger, "Well that was the last time." She smiled brightly at him, which he returned with a crooked one. Once again they were lost in each other's eyes, until John cleared his throat. Sherlock dropped his arm and they all resumed eating.

When they were full to the brim, they paid their good byes, as Mary and John retreated to the Gryffindor common room, whilst Sherlock and Molly began the tedious walk of the school to reach their own common room. The pair walked incredibly close to each other, their shoulders occasionally brushing. Each time, they both smiled to themselves. When they finally reached the comfort of their common room they sat down on the sofa under the window. Molly characteristically leaned against his frame, and stared him fully in the face. "Do you want to play wizard chess?" She asked excitedly. He smirked at her, "Only if you think you can win this time!" She winked at him, and summoned the chessboard using a silent charm. She pulled away from him a sat crossed legged sideways on the sofa. He proceeded to do the same, whilst performing an incantation to force the board to hover in front of them. They set up the pieces and the great game began.

After and hour and forty minutes, Molly finally admitted defeat after Sherlock wrestled her on the sofa. "I did not cheat!" He growled playfully as he hovered above her body. She giggled uncontrollably. He too joined in with her infectious laughter. She suddenly stopped laughing and looked up at Sherlock. "Okay this was fun, but Sherlock your starting to crush me." She vocalised. He moved off of her immediately, "Oh sorry!" He gasped. She just laughed again and sat up. Her heart was beating unsteadily, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him into a deep kiss. But she didn't. Instead her train of thought was interrupted by a tapping on the window. She twisted her body to have a look at the source of the noise. "Snitch!" She cried and jumped to her feet and opened the window. The owl flew in and perched on Sherlock's shoulder. "Okay then." Sherlock sighed. Molly moved to untie the letter from the owl. It was a reply from her brother. It simply read,

To Molly,

Just be the man and take action your self! We live in the 21st century now, take advantage of that! Go for it, if he's a true friend, he'll stick around anyway! Besides you can always flee and help me and Mark with the dragons!

Love, Greg

She smiled down at the piece of parchment. She decided to act on her brothers advice, to hell with it, she thought. She beckoned Snitch to go to the Owlery, which the bird did instantly. She slipped the letter into her pocket and flopped onto the sofa next to Sherlock once again. He had turned his body to face her properly. She took advantage of this and summoned all the courage she had within her. She suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his mouth with hers. At first he froze at the touch of her lips, but soon became responsive as he realised this was what he had been craving for the past year and a half. He pulled her by the waist, onto his lap and flush against his body. He kissed her back in ferocious passion, as her hands move to tangle in his dark curls. The kiss lasted a long moment, before both participants were desperate for air. They broke apart, and Sherlock leaned his forehead against hers. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that." She whispered. He sighed and whispered back, "Oh yes I do." He forced her to be quiet, as he recaptured her mouth with his own. Except this time the kiss was slow, passionate, yet energetic at the same time. It seemed to send a message to both Sherlock and Molly, that needed no expression of words.

FIN. -Jess