The door of the café opens. The café was L-shaped and they were seated at the very back. Sherlock, who was facing the entrance sees the person coming and rolls his eyes.

Hermione sees Sherlock rolling his eyes at something or someone behind her. She turns around and feels very very confused. It is Mycroft Holmes.

Mycroft struts over their cozy nook and addresses Hermione with a nod and Sherlock with, "Hello, brother mine."

Sherlock simply grunts. He had a good idea why his brother, who hated physical activity, was here. The waitress returns with their order. Mycroft dons his most crowd-pleaser smile and asks, "Can I have a chair" he eyes the nametag, "Carmen?"

Carmen forehead crinkles. Well, whatever, none of her business. She brings a chair, anyway.

"Now," Mycroft begins as he sits down, eyeing the warm blueberry muffin, "Miss Granger, what happened?"

"We-"

"Still on a diet brother?" Sherlock did not miss the look he gave to the muffin.

Mycroft gives his best I-shall-kill-you smile, "Still sneaking out for a smoke?"

"I have nicotine patches."

"I am exercising."

Hermione licks her lip and sips her coffee as she waits out for the brothers to end their death glare competition. She cannot believe the British Government and the consulting detectives were such…children. When it seemed none would back down, Hermione coughs, "Boys."

That stopped them. Mycroft turns his attention to Hermione again. She puts down her coffee and says, "Someone cursed my home. A Fiendfyre curse. Its-"

"A dark curse," Mycroft says shocking both his brother and Hermione.

Hermione asks, "How?"

"I read some books and your Minister is most helpful."

"Oh," Hermione says, "Well, I think someone doesn't want me to investigate Pansy's death."

"Hmm, that is the most obvious thing. Well do not worry Miss Granger; I have contacts in the Fire Department. I can make them write this as an electric mishap. This will create some sensation in your community." He chuckles.

Hermione blushes furiously. Sherlock looks confused, "Why?"

"Hermione Granger is a war hero. A celebrity. I already knew who she was when she came out of my fireplace. Don't judge her by her face. She is the brightest witch of her age. A fire in her home will be news."

Hermione blushes even more and suddenly her chipped nail polish on her fingers resting on her lap becomes the most interesting ever. She still hated the fame and unnecessary adulation. She helped win a war, yes. A very ugly war. There is no glory in war.

Sherlock look at her sharply. He sees her discomfort. He wonders why.

"Well, I must be going," he rises. Hermione stands up too and grasps his hand and says, "Thank you."

"It is quite alright. Good morning." With that he leaves with one last look at his brother who has not bothered to bid him farewell. Well, Mycroft thinks as he walks towards his car, better he remains distracted.

Brightest witch of her age—that explains things, Sherlock muses, a war hero. Hermione stares everywhere but at him as she takes a bite of her muffin. She wanted to tell him gradually. All thanks to Mycroft Holmes. Suddenly her phone rings. She takes it out. It is Ginny.

"Hello Ginny," Hermione says, knowing very well where this conversation is headed.

"I saw it on the news! Are you okay? Is Rose okay?" Ginny almost screams into the speaker

"Yes. We are."

"Where are you now? Do you need a place to stay? What happened?"

"Ginny," Hermione laughs a little, "I am at a friend's place. It was an electrical mishap!"

"Okay. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Take care. And give my love to Rose."

"Of course. Goodbye."

"Bye," Ginny disconnects.

"Why did you lie?" Sherlock asks, "That was a wizard friend, right?"

"Yes," Hermione says, her shoulders sagging a little, "I f I told her the truth, the entire Weasley clan and Harry will pounce to protect me and Rose. And honestly, their affection is well-meant, but I can't drag them in this situation, can I?"

Sherlock nods. He gets the lying done to protect friends and family.

They go to her burned flat. Hermione wanted to cry. She just moved here two months ago. She could have died. Rose could have died. She shudders at the near miss.

Sherlock walks in first with a sense of purpose. He takes one look at the damage and comes to the conclusion, "So dark magic is really bad."

"Yes." Hermione nods. She sighs, "Nothing here then. I guess we should go back."

They get back to Baker Street. It was close to lunch time. Hermione had spotted the meager amount of food he had. So she made him take her to the nearest grocery. "Don't you eat or something?" she had asked exasperatedly.

"Not on a case. Digestion gets in the way," he had replied.

She had rolled her eyes and muttered, "Oh Merlin, he is truly insane."

Sherlock had heard it.

Hermione collects Rose from Mrs. Hudson, who kept saying what an absolute angel she was. As she was talking to Hermione, Sherlock calls from upstairs, "Hermione!"

"What?" Hermione shout back.

"You better come upstairs."

Hermione crinkles her forehead. What is it? Her question gets answered soon as she walks in. Her pet owl is perched on the table, busy cleaning his claws. Sherlock is looking at the brown barn owl with utmost suspicion.

Rose squeals and reaches out to pet the owl, "Hey Socrates! He found us mummy, he is so smart!"

"He sure is," Hermione grins. As she looks at Sherlock her grin erupts into a giggle. "Don't worry, he is a nice owl."

Sherlock is not convinced. Hermione grabs his coat sleeve and says, "I need Socrates to send letters and ask around, you know."

Sherlock looks down at her. Well, okay then. "Okay," he mumbles.

Hermione goes into the kitchen and summons a bowl. She fills it with water and puts it on the window sill. Socrates hops over and takes a long drink. Hermione sits down at the table and starts writing letters after she drudges an empty notepad from his clutter. She chews on the pen. "What should I write?"

He, dragging a chair, comes and sits beside her. He steeples his fingers and says, "You can write that you are looking for Pansy on behalf of the Ministry?"

"Why?"

"She changed her name, right? I believe she must have done something to go change her name and home."

"Sounds alright."

Sherlock leans down as she starts writing the letter. Her handwriting is very clear and concise. A bit scholarly perhaps. Hermione is acutely aware of Sherlock breathing down her neck. No, it is not nearly uncomfortable. It is just well…disconcerting. She felt the hair on her neck stand up and thank Merlin for the sweater, or else the goosebumps on her hand would have been only too visible.

She still smells like strawberries and summers. Is that magic, too? Sherlock wonders. He stops and goes over to what he was thinking just now. Why is he noticing how she smells like? It is not important to know. He stands up and walks into the kitchen. He sits at his microscope. And his eyes are on her.

Hermione senses his absence. She shakes her head. Finally, her letter is finished. She takes out her wand and taps on the letter, "Geminio." Duplicates of the letter are made instantly. She collects them all and writes the name of each addressee separately. Then she walks up to Socrates and ties all the messages and strokes his feathers, promising him bird seed when he comes back. Socrates hoots softly and takes off.

Sherlock quickly averts his gaze as Hermione turns to look at him. She walks over and stands beside him. She laughs a little, "I have watched enough crime shows to know that you're supposed to put a glass slide underneath." She points at the empty space where a glass slide should be inserted in the microscope.

Sherlock curses internally for being found out. He decides to be angry instead of embarrassed and gives her his best furious icy stare. She just smiles back with her warm brown eyes, challenging him. Suddenly Rose speaks up from the window, "Mum, I am hungry."

Eye contact gets broken. Sherlock sees this as a perfect opportunity to scram. Hermione gets busy in the kitchen. She sees him leave and wonders what that was about and should she make him something.

Sherlock decides to head to Barts. Maybe he can go whip another dead body. He walks in Molly's lab and spots her and Lestrade in her office, having lunch. He smiles, how he loves interrupting people on their dates. He flings open the door with a booming "Lestrade!"

Lestrade chocks on his sandwich. Molly jumps a little but collects herself. Lestrade, after taking a long drink from his bottle says, "Hello to you too. You know I was coming over to Baker Street."

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. Good thing he came here then, explaining Hermione's presence in his flat to Lestrade would have been troublesome. Sherlock asks, "Why?"

"I found Mr. Delacour. A Jacques Delacour. He is currently residing six feet underground in Montmartre Cemetery."

Sherlock's head snaps up from the file he had been reading. "Cause of death?"

"Heart attack, even though he had no history of heart problems."

Same as Pansy, Sherlock muses but does not say it out loud. "I am taking this file."

"Bu-you know, fine, take it."

"Did you learn anything else about Dahlia?"

"Not much. She owned a medicinal plant and herb shop on Rue Mouffetard. She was thirty-four years old and she married this bloke ten years ago. They had no children."

Sherlock nods and leaves the way he came. Like a storm.

Lestrade looks at Molly, "I am sorry."

Molly smiles and places her hand over his, "What for? We know Sherlock Holmes and knowing him means be prepared to have him storming anywhere, anytime."

Two days passed without any occurrences. Hermione and Rose had settled down nicely. Ginny had came to visit after she managed to wheedle out the address out of Hermione. Ginny had taken one look at Sherlock and told Hermione exactly what she felt. Yes, Sherlock had deduced her too, which pissed her off a little. But her advice to Hermione still had her blushing and smiling. "Look at those sharp cheekbones! And that hair! That face should be made illegal. Holy hotness. And that voice, why aren't you a puddle yet? I would have jumped his bones by now! What are you doing? Oh, don't tell Harry this." Hermione was glad Sherlock was out of earshot during Ginny's ranting. Hermione had to tell Ginny thrice that no, he was not interested in women and no, he did not look that interested in men either ("Such a waste," Ginny had sighed) but she just met him, she would not know.

Sherlock was busy in another triple homicide and Hermione was busy at the Ministry. This case was not forgotten but both chose to wait it out. Hermione hardly saw him and when she did he would barely talk or move or sleep. At first she was truly shocked by this behavior but after a very enlightening chat with Mrs. Hudson, she understood him a little better and kept a wide berth when he was silent and lying on the sofa. Sometimes when Rose would chatter after she returned from her school, Hermione would discreetly cast a silencing charm around him.

On the third day, Socrates flies in. Hermione is at the school, picking Rose up. Sherlock is home. He eyes the owl. The owl glares at him. Sherlock glares back. He tries detaching the message which is tightly clamped in his beak. As soon as Sherlock tries to, Socrates tries clawing him. Sherlock tries again, Socrates claws. Sherlock decides to send a text then.

Your owl is here. He attacked me.

-SH

Hermione gets the message. She giggles. Rose turns and asks, "What is so funny mum?"

"Socrates scratched Sherlock!"

Roses joins her mother and guffaws.

Hermione walks in and the scene in front of her makes her want to laugh out loud. Socrates is perched on the table, his large yellow eyes boring into Sherlock while the man in question is seated at a comfortable distance, glaring back.

"He doesn't like men," Hermione grins.

"I didn't know that." Sherlock says indignantly.

Hermione goes over to Socrates who hoots softly and lets Rose stroke his head as Hermione detaches the message. Rose lays down the birdseed, which the bird pecks at enthusiastically.

The letter is from Parvati Patil, Hogwarts very own former gossip goddess. Pleasantries aside and regrets of not knowing aside, the next thing that Hermione reads is a tidbit of news Parvati shares that almost stops her heart. She turns around and says, her voice shaking, to Sherlock, "Draco is in a hospital. He was stabbed."

Sherlock is still recovering from the shock as he entered St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. They entered through what was a very derelict shop named Purge and Dowse, Ltd. And Hermione spoke to an apparently inanimate dummy. And the inside…

Hermione walks up to the Reception and asks for Draco Malfoy. She gets directed to the new wing on fourth floor. Hermione turns around for Sherlock who is busy staring at a woman puking out slugs in a bucket. The other slug-puking incident brings a sad smile on her face. She mutters, "Ron once puked slugs."

"Is he all right?" Sherlock had to ask.

"Of course he is, now come on," Hermione say as she drags him by grasping his hand.

Sherlock lets her drag him, her slim, small, warm fingers entangling with his own. He is not minding it on bit. She lets go only when they reach their destination. A tiny part in him misses her warmth, but the bigger, logical part squashes it down.

They enter a room where Healers (Hermione had informed him in the lift) in lime green outfits where hovering around, casting spells. Draco looked even paler, but he was conscious and talking to this blonde woman. The woman turns around and scowls at Hermione. Hermione says awkwardly, "Hello Astoria."

"Hermione." The blonde woman says as if taking her name is like a bitter pill in her mouth.

Draco sits up and smiles, "Hey Granger. Mr. Holmes." Then he turns to Astoria and says in a firm voice, "You can wait outside, I need to talk to them."

"But Draco!" Astoria cries.

"Please," even though Draco requests, his grey eyes glint as hard as granite. Sherlock deduces they are married but separated. He had previously noticed the ring line on his finger, but Astoria is still wearing her ring. And they do not really like each other.

Astoria leaves with a soppy glance at Draco and a venomous glance at Hermione. At Sherlock, she looked twice and wondered why this gorgeous man is with that woman.

"What happened?" Hermione drags a stool and sits down. Sherlock looks for a stool but finds none. Hermione sees it and conjures a stool for him. He eyes it suspiciously. Draco laughs, "Don't worry, Hermione is the best at magic that there is!"

Sherlock sits down as Hermione smirks. He smirks back. Draco watches this exchange with amusement. "Mr. Malfoy, if you could-" Sherlock says.

"Sure." And Draco then launches into his narrative as to what happened to him.

After he finishes, Sherlock asks, "So you must have seen who attacked you."

"Yes," Draco whispered.

Hermione and Sherlock sit up and straight. They exchange a meaningful look. Both had been wondering if Draco's attacker was Pansy's killer.

Hermione leans closer, "Who was it?"

"Blaise. Blaise Zabini."

Sherlock does not understand why Hermione gasps and puts a hand over her mouth or why Draco leans farther into his pillow, looking absolutely defeated.