A/N: Thanks for the support everyone! I had a blast these last two weeks and will definitely post a chapter a day again for my next fic!

Hermione paced the small garden, marvelling that it was so well kept in this season, but then again, Mycroft Holmes seemed to be the sort of person who needed every little detail to be perfect. She flinched as her magic flared again, scorching a branch of the tree that she rapidly extinguished. Well, almost perfect. Harry had had such an episode once and she knew she could only wait it out or deplete it voluntarily. The latter was more appealing. She wanted to return inside as fast as possible, because John was not taking this whole magic situation very well. He wasn't pulling a Dursley, not yet at least, but she feared it might be headed that way.

And not only was there the whole magical thing to deal with, but they'd sprung a surprise engagement on him to top it off. A fake one, and for his own protection, but it was still something they'd have to talk about, and sooner rather than later. It wasn't such a big deal, they could just remain "engaged" until everyone forgot about this little incident and then break it off, no harm done, but John didn't necessarily know that.

So, with a sigh that came from deep within her soul, she made a little addition to Mycroft's garden. Permanent transfiguration always took out a lot of magic and by the time she was finished, she felt more settled. She waited another ten minutes, just to be on the safe side, before returning inside. It was very quiet. Worryingly so. She hastened to find her way back to the small sitting room where they'd been gathered and froze at the unexpected sight of the three men reading in companionable silence. It could have been a scene taken out of Gryffindor tower if they weren't all so old. Oh Merlin! She was getting old if she even had those kind of thoughts. Soon, she'd be screaming at kids to get off her lawn before chasing them away with her broomstick.

Mycroft noticed her and joined her by the entrance.

"I'll be taking my leave, if you don't mind. You can choose any guest room on the first floor when you need it."

"Thank you for… well… everything."

Mycroft gave a small bow and bid her good night. Hermione liked his manners that reminded her a lot of the wizarding world's old fashioned customs. She doubted that was why Shacklebolt had chosen him as his muggle counterpart, though, but it couldn't hurt.

"Hermione?"

She looked towards John who patted the sofa next to him in invitation and hope bloomed anew in her heart. It was progress at least. She sat and glimpsed the book he'd been reading.

"Oh no. I can't believe you're reading that thing," she exclaimed, unable to hide her distaste at the book's cover.

"What? The Secret and Sensational Biography of Hermione Granger by Rita Skeeter? Why ever not? With a title like that, it's practically begging to be read."

"Because I locked that woman in a jar for a month. She hates my guts and probably wrote lies every other word."

"Sounds like she had reasons to. How do you fit a woman in a jar?"

"In my defense, she was a beatle at the time."

John pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed.

"I'm going to need a lot of time to adjust to this thing."

"I know. But it doesn't have to be different. It can just be like before: you and Sherlock, and me across the street, no magic."

John snorted.

"Fat chance. He knows now," he said pointing at Sherlock still engrossed in his book. "He's going to be insufferable until he knows everything about your world, and then he's going to take it apart and put it back together, and then we'll have to shut him up before he tells everyone about it."

Hermione smiled because of course Sherlock Holmes would do that.

"There's a spell that shuts people up, you know," she offered.

"I have a feeling there's a spell for everything," John said, amused then sobered just as fast.

"About… you know… what Mycroft said…"

Ah. So they were going to talk about it after all.

"It doesn't have to change anything. It was just something he said to protect your mind, so you wouldn't forget. But they won't come checking or anything. The Minister just needed a reason to spare you."

"You make it sound like it's dangerous."

"It can be. It's very rare but sometimes a mind collapses from being obliviated. Sometimes it's not as bad but the person is… not quite right afterwards. Muggles are more sensitive to it since magic can't smooth over the she's of what's been torn away so you speak."

"That doesn't sound very nice," John said with a scowl.

"It concerns only a fraction of people and muggles at that so you can imagine how little the wizarding world cares. Now that I'm free though… maybe I can make it my next project." A plan took root in her mind, ideas and connections already blooming into a solid network of possibilities. She hadn't been able to do anything but glee for so long, but now, she could do anything. "With Mycroft's help, and I heard of an incident in America about a mass obliviate that couldn't possibly have been done by wand, not to mention we have to evolve with the new technologies at everyone's disposal-"

John chuckled at her enthusiasm then asked her more questions about her and this project and her world than she could have hoped. Not pulling a Dursley then.

°\_(°~°)_/°

The next morning, when Hermione and John joined the two Holmes brothers at the kitchen counter, Mycroft looked at her strangely before asking her why there was a pond full of rainbow fish in his garden.

"I needed to expend some magic. I can get rid of it now, if you want."

"No, that's quite alright. I always found watching koi fish to be appeasing, but I would appreciate it if you could move it to the side of the footpath."

Hermione ducked her head as she hadn't taken that into account. It had been quite dark out and she wondered if maybe Mycroft had stepped in it by accident this morning.

"I'll do that before we leave. Everything should be back in order on Baker Street, but I'm not sure Crooks managed to make his way back inside. He was on the roof the last time I saw him."

"I wouldn't worry about him," John said. "I bet he's being fed by Mrs Hudson right as we speak."

Hermione smiled. He would too, the plump little beggar. Probably mewled at her window until she woke up to take him in. Hermione should know better than to worry for him, but he was getting on in years.

Before they left, Mycroft asked her for a way to contact her because he prefered to have a contact from the magical world he could actually trust. It made sense, given the way Kingsley had tried to go over his head, so she gave him her phone number, enjoying the look on his face upon learning Wizards and witches could have phones, just preferred not to. Hermione found the little device too practical to do without, even more so now that she was dating a muggle. She made a mental note to ask the Weasley twins for a way to make it more resistant to magic the next time she went to visit them now that she didn't have to hide all the time.

She should have known better. Baker Street was a circus. People in strange garb loitering in front of 220 and not doing a very good job at blending in. Sherlock told the cabbie to keep going when he spotted them and they got off around the corner.

"We can probably go home," John said as he peeked around the corner, "But how are you going to avoid them?"

"I can just apparate, that's teleportation, inside my flat. I don't know what they hope to gain by staying there. People are going to call the Met if they don't bugger off."

"Teleportation?" Sherlock asked. "Can I try?"

John elbowed him but she nodded. It wouldn't hurt, they were in the know now after all. No need to make their lives unnecessarily complicated.

"I can take two," Hermione said, offering a hand to each of them.

She had the feeling she'd be doing that a lot in the future as she curled her hand around the two larger ones and twisted them into nothingness, reappearing in the middle of 221B where Crookshanks was waiting for her, lounging on John's armchair where he was shedding fur like it was going out of fashion, his stomach round from overeating. His happy mewl seemed to be telling her: "Welcome back home."