Hermione and Sherlock leave her apartment at Mayfair to get to Baker Street. The two companions do not have much conversation as each was stewing in their own thoughts. Sherlock flags down a cab for them. They get in as Sherlock gives the address. He looks out of the window and analyses all that he learnt in the past few hours. They were finally going to ID her. And he had so much to ask Hermione. He wanted to learn more.

Hermione chews her lips as she sees London flash past her. It was not even ten o' clock yet and she had enough drama for the day. She just wanted to sit back, maybe call up Rose who is at her parents' house and read a book. But no, she bargained for this. She wonders why he hasn't started with the questions yet.

The cab jerks to a stop after six minutes. They are here. She climbs down and offers to pay the fare when Sherlock waves her off. She looks at the black door with moniker of 221B. He brushes past her and opens the door. She docilely follows him in and up the stairs to his apartment.

Hermione stifles a snort as she takes in the condition of the flat. To say it was untidy was an understatement. Books and papers strewn on every inch of the carpet. And was that red string connecting even more papers and photos on the wall on her right? She walks up to that. She stares at it when he speaks up from behind, "That helps me think."

She turns around and smiles, "I usually jot things down. But I guess it's easier for you to sit there," she points at the grey chair, "and look at things."

Sherlock frowns, "How did you know the grey chair is mine?"

"Well it would be difficult from that one," she says pointing to John's chair, "and I don't know why but the grey chair suits your personality more."

"My personality? You just met me."

"Wasn't too difficult," she whispers. Even if Sherlock hears it, he makes no allusions to it as the bell rings.

"That would be Mr. Draco Malfoy," Sherlock says.

Hermione moves and grasps his forearm. Sherlock looks down at her quizzically. He sees trepidation in her eyes. "Umm, you need to know something. Malfoy is kind of racist. He dislikes Muggles, I mean people like you."

Sherlock nods as Draco Malfoy enters. He is tall and his body still looked athletic. But he is not a sportsperson by profession. In his free time, then. He had thinning platinum blonde hair, a sharp nose and quick, intelligent grey eyes. He was wearing a very expensive suit. And there was a sneer plastered on his aristocratic face.

Okay then. Sherlock does a fake smile, "I am Sherlock Holmes."

"I know. I looked up this address before coming. I used the Internet," Draco shakes hands with Sherlock. Hermione's eyebrows almost reach her hairline at the mention of 'Internet' from this Pureblood. She decides to tell him anyway, "Draco, he knows we are wizards."

Draco's sneer now gets etched into surprise. He does some quick thinking. This Holmes character is a Muggle thing called a 'detective' from what he read on the web and Hermione now works for the Minister. So this must be official business. He may not like Muggles, but he squashes his displeasure here. He rubs his face; he does not want to be involved in this. As if reading his thoughts, she comments, "Draco, don't worry you won't be affected in any way. I, we, have a few things to ask you."

Draco nods. "Alright then. Fire away."

Sherlock silently tells Hermione proceed. He prefers to remain in the background and observe this. He was shamelessly curious.

Hermione takes out the other wand and murmurs, "Prior Incantato."

Sherlock had seen this before. But it amazed him again. Malfoy looked unfazed, but of course. He keeps his eyes trained on Malfoy's thin face. He sees the flash of recognition when the weasel appears and says his name. His pupils get dilated and his breathing pattern changes.

Draco rasps, "What is this Hermione?"

Sherlock notices the change in name-calling from her surname to her name with a raised eyebrow. She says softly, "The Muggle police today found a body of an unidentified woman in her late thirties and they found this wand at the crime scene. I contacted you because well, you must know the caster of this Patronus."

"I do."

Sherlock narrows his eyes as he feels the anti-climax coming while Hermione forgets to breathe.

Draco runs a finger through his hair, "That is Pansy Parkinson's Patronus."

Sherlock judges from Hermione's audible gasp that she knew the victim as well. He softly asks, "You knew her too?"

"Yes," she whispers with a choked throat, "We were schoolmates. I haven't seen her in years. Not since-"

"The Battle of Hogwarts," Draco finishes. "Me too. I met her just over a couple of years ago only." He slumps down on the sofa.

Battle of Hogwarts? What? Sherlock's brain is whizzing again. He refrains from asking as he had already decided to give Hermione jurisdiction here, on his home turf.

Hermione asks, "You weren't in contact with her?" She drags a chair and sits facing him. Sherlock sits down in his chair.

"No. When most of the Purebloods sided with the new government, the Parkinsons disappeared suddenly. I was supposed to be betrothed to Pansy." Hermione snorts loudly. Draco laughs, "Jealous Granger?"

"Shut up ferret," Hermione retorts.

Sherlock watches that exchange with mild amusement. So they had a past besides being school rivals. Hermione continues, "When you met her again—tell me about that."

Draco sighs, "As usual I wasn't paying much attention. I did that way back in Hogwarts and I was compelled to do the same again that day." He rubs his face. "I am sorry Hermione. I vaguely remember what she said. But yes, she did send me that Patronus last night. I thought I was dreaming and went back to sleep."

"You insolent git!" Hermione exclaims hotly as rises up from her seat. She furiously paces the room, "You absolute prat! Why didn't you do something?"

Draco sits up straight, "Hermione you knew how she was! I did not for one moment think she was in mortal danger!"

Hermione stops pacing. Yes, Pansy was unpleasant. She was not her most favourite person. But still she was dead and Draco could have done something, anything.

Sherlock sees Hermione get frustrated and sees the look of pure guilt on Malfoy's face. Interesting.

Draco rises and says, "Hermione I will get to you if I remember anything, I swear." He reaches out and squeezes her hand tenderly. Sherlock smiles to himself, his deduction was spot on.

Hermione softly nods, "Okay."

"Later then. Mr. Holmes," he nods at the detective. Sherlock stands up and returns the nod. He mutters as he walks to the door, "God, I need a drink." He briefly glances at Hermione and says, "Hermione I saw the newspaper."

Hermione smirks, "Good for you."

Draco raises his hands as if in surrender, "I know when I am not needed anymore." Hermione smiles as she sees the huge grin forming on his face before he turns around and leaves.

Sherlock says, "That was interesting."

Hermione chews her bottom lip. Sherlock notices that. He also realizes she is not wearing any lipstick. She is completely make-up free. Judging from all events, she must be in her late thirties, but she does not look her age at all. Is that because of magic too? Interesting.

"We need to contact her Slytherin friends," she says suddenly.

"Excuse me? Slytherin?" Sherlock has to ask.

"Oh. At our school, Hogwarts, students are divided into four houses—Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. These are the names of the school founders."

"Oh."

Before he can ask further questions, he hears John's footsteps on the stairs. John barges in and shouts, "Sherlock bloody Holmes, where the hell were you? I called you so many times!"

Sherlock takes out his phone. Ah, twelve miss calls from John. Well, he was busy. He says, "I was busy."

John opens his mouth but closes it as he hears a giggle. He turns and sees Hermione Granger giggling with her hand over her mouth. She says, "You guys fight like a married couple."

John rolls his eyes, he has lost count how many times he had to do this, "I am not gay. I am actually married."

"Oh," Hermione controls her hysterics and glimpses a look at Sherlock, who was staring into space with a passive face.

John shakes his head, "So umm, no offence but why are you here?"

Panic flashes in her eyes and Sherlock shakes off his passivity. He is the one who offers the excuse, "I was interrogating her about Mycroft and she has to leave now." He marches towards her and places a hand on her back gently coaxing her to move. She acts along and lets him push her out through the door. She barely manages to wave at John Watson. As they reach the stair he replaces his hand on her elbow, this time with much less strength. She instantly misses his firm but gentle pressure on her back but curses her heart which speeds up when he takes her elbows. Uh, no, she thinks, she just met him two (or more, who knows she was not counting) hours ago, she can't be attracted to this (well, almost) stranger. And she was thirty-four years old, not a teenager!

As they reach the street, he busies himself to catch a cab for her. Hermione says, "You don't need to. I can apparate."

Sherlock whips around with the question on his face. Hermione softly laughs, "It is a magic thing."

He smiles, "Maybe you could show me, someday?"

"Sure!" Hermione looks down at her feet, "And thank you. I know he is your friend, so thank you for not telling. I appreciate this very much."

"I would not say anything to him without your permission."

"Thank you."

"He doesn't remember what you did."

"Er...it was a mind control curse."

Sherlock nods, "So will you contact her friends?"

"Yeah I will. But…"

"But?"

"I don't really know her friend circle too well. They all despised me."

"Why?"

She laughs again, "Long story. Give me three days. I need to see off my daughter to school day after tomorrow."

"That's alright."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Hermione fidgets. This had been hovering at the back of her mind ever since Draco. "Why did you not do anything? Like ask Draco questions. You kind of melted in the background."

So she noticed. Sherlock feels pleased to finally meet someone who looked smarter than they looked. He explains, "Let's just say I am grossly inexperienced in this area. I am willing to help because I am extremely curious. Plus I'd like to learn more about your world."

Hermione nods as she backs away. "I will be hearing from you in three days?" he asks.

"Yes," Hermione replies. And walks away.

Sherlock just stares at her back with a million thoughts in his head.