Sherlock tries calling Hermione. Texting would not do here. He had, after a lot pacing, to seek his brother's help twice that day (really unpleasant). It had taken Mycroft some time to find her phone number. It was finally nine or thereabouts when he finally gave Hermione's number to Sherlock.

She picks up at the second ring. She asks warily, "Hello?"

"The police identified her."

Hermione smiles in spite of herself, "Sherlock?"

"Obviously."

Hermione walks away from the window and perches on the bed with Draco's message in her hand, "I was almost contacting your brother so I could call you. Draco sent a message."

Sherlock grins. Wonderful. They are going somewhere. He starts speaking first, "The police identified her as Dahlia Delacour. A British expatriate living in Paris with her French husband."

Hermione frowns. Why would Pansy change her name? And she remembers there are no Pureblood wizards under the Delacour name. She had worked in the Department of Law Enforcement fighting for equal status for Muggle-borns like her for a considerable period, she would know. A staunch Pureblood like Pansy would not marry a Muggle, ever. Looks like Pansy kept a lot of secrets.

"What did Mr. Malfoy send?" Sherlock asks.

"He said she kept talking about a man named Sebastian."

"Sebastian?"

"Maybe her husband?"

"Maybe. We must wait for Lestrade to find her husband."

"I agree. And on my part, I will send some feelers out among the Hogwarts crowd."

Sherlock asks his question without realizing, "Why name a school Hogwarts?"

Hermione laughs, "I have no idea!"

He gives an almost smile.

John chooses this exact moment to enter the living room and sees Sherlock doing his almost smile thing on the phone.

"Goodnight Mr. Holmes," Hermione yawns.

"Goodnight Miss Granger." Sherlock disconnects and smiles. Things are getting so much interesting. He hears a sound and looks up to John staring at him with a slightly slack mouth. "What?" Sherlock cannot help asking.

"You were on the phone with Miss Granger? And smiling. And saying 'Goodnight'?" John says.

"Yeah, so?"

"You never call anyone."

"I do."

"No you don't."

"I do when it is absolutely necessary."

"Huh." John crosses his arms and shakes his head. This day was epicly weird. First a confused Sherlock, now a smiling Sherlock on the mobile phone, talking to that attractive mystery woman. What is actually going on?

John remembers his actual reason for coming here, "I am visiting my sister tomorrow. I may be gone for a few weeks. I plan to go the medical conference in Dublin after that."

Sherlock stares at him with stony expression. John thinks he must not have heard him, but he could not be more wrong. Sherlock is actually relieved John is leaving. He would not have to hide and lie anymore to his friend.

John waits for a response but gives up and walks up to his room.

Hermione cannot sleep. She is dead tired but her mind refuses to sleep. She needs morning to come quickly.

He has heard the rumours on the street. The discovery of a witch's body in Muggle London. He stops in his tracks. How did this trickle out in the magic circles? He was careful. Very careful, in fact. Shit, he mutters under his breath, he should have searched for the wand. He scoots closer to the group drinking closest to him. They looked like Ministry officials. Yes, they had seen a witch barging in Shacklebott's office. Yes, he had allowed it. Yes, the Ministers' Muggle contact allowed it too. Who is the lone witch on this case? He sits up straight, his breathe coming out faster. His blood sizzles. He knows her. He has to find her. And burn her.

Next morning Hermione returns to her apartment at Mayfair with Rose in tow. It is her first time here. Hermione puts down the luggage in her foyer and watches her daughters' face as she takes in her surroundings.

Hermione clears her throat, "I know it is not but much. Not like the house we had, but-"

"Mum," Rose throws her arms around her mothers' waist and says, "It is alright. I like it." She claps her hands, "Which one is my room?"

Hermione laughs as she shows Rose her room. "We can decorate this as you like it."

"Awesome!"

Just then the bell rings. Hermione wonders who it can be. She leaves her daughter in her new room and walks to the door. She opens it. A tall man in a hooded cloak stands in front of her. She backs away taking out her wand from her jeans pocket. Before she can react, she hears an incantation.

The fire rushes out of his wand and almost catches on Hermione. She screams, "Finite Incantatum!" But too late. The fire has caught her carpet and roars into a massive inferno. She tries, "Aguamenti!" But nothing happens. She recognizes this, it is Fiendfyre. She hears Roses' hurried footsteps behind her. She picks up Rose and the little lilac bag she kept in the hall closet, which she thought would never need to use again and apparates with her. She apparates to the first place which pops in her mind.

John says, "Goodbye Sherlock. And please buy the milk."

Sherlock makes no affirming sound. John rolls his eyes and leaves.

As soon as John gets into a cab, a loud crack resonates through the living room. Sherlock moves from the kitchen to the living room. He almost drops his mug.

Hermione opens her eyes. She has apparated here, in 221B Baker Street. She turns around to see a shocked Sherlock staring at her. She puts down Rose on the ground, who still clutches on to her mother. "My daughter, Rose," Hermione says. "That is Sherlock Holmes," she says to Rose.

Sherlock looks down at the little girl. Red hair and freckles, definitely from father, but brown eyes like mother. Hermione says, "Can you turn on the TV? I need to see something."

Sherlock obliges. He turns around. Hermione nods, "The news."

He puts on the news. He frowns as it reports a recent fire at a Mayfair residence. It is her apartment. He hears her saying, "It is Fiendfyre."

He whips around, "What?"

Hermione speaks with tears threatening to spill, "Someone came to my home and tried killing me. That fire spell has no counter curse."

Sherlock nods. He was intrigued. Why would someone want to kill her? He could tell they were distressed. John would probably offer them tea. He says, "Would you like some tea?"

"Umm yes," Hermione says. She sits down on the sofa. She pulls Rose down on her lap and gently strokes her hair. Rose starts sobbing. Hermione feels like a good cry too, but she must remain strong for Rose. "It's okay baby. We will be fine."

"Mommy, I am scared."

"I am too."

"Where will we stay now?"

"I-"

"You can stay here," Sherlock offers. He gets surprised at his own words. Why did he just say that?

Hermione is no less surprised. She says, "But-"

Sherlock realizes it is not nice to take back what he said, so he continues, "My roommate is not here. He will be gone for a month. You can stay, with your daughter in his room." Sherlock puts down the mug on the table and looks expectedly at her. Okay, he can agree to himself, he let her stay so he can study her at close quarters.

Hermione does not know whether to laugh or cry. She stands up and hugs him. Sherlock stumbles a little. She wraps her around him tight and whispers, "Thank you."

Sherlock gingerly pats her back. She smells likes strawberries. He decides he likes it. Wait…what?

Hermione releases him and smiles. She turns around at Rose and says, "Rose. We will stay here, okay?"

Rose stands up too and takes a look around. Mr. Sherlock Holmes has as many books as mommy does. She can stay here. She too walks up to him and hugs him around his waist.

Too much human contact for one day, Sherlock muses as he pats Rose on her head. Rose smiles up at him, "Thank you." Sherlock oddly, smiles back.

He notices Hermione clutching a little beaded bag in her hands. He asks as Rose releases him, "What's that?"

"A few necessities," Hermione smirks mischievously.

"That thing can't hold anything."

"Why don't you take a look," Hermione passes the bag to him. His gob smacked face is truly precious when he peeks inside the bag.