IMPORTANT NOTE

Hello my friends!

To those who have read TWICE before, I changed it with FORGET ME NOT. I originally started this story about a year ago when the idea came to mind. I started some chapters and even uploaded some of them and a few wonderful people got to read and review,

BUT

I started editing and as months passed by I realized how much I hated the way I introduced the story. So I rewrote everything all over again. Made some changes, but the plot remains the same.

And so here is the new version: Forget Me Not . I'm really sorry for the inconvenience. Hope you still like it?

Let me hear your thoughts.

DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER WORLD BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING. BBC SHERLOCK BELONGS TO THE PRODUCERS AND TO SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE. THE PLOT ALONE IS MINE. NO PROFITS EARNED.

Set at Year 2011.

POST BBC SHERLOCK S1E2. Everything is canon up until that point. I won't change much, just add Hermione to the mix that's all.

Hermione is born in September 19, 1979 which makes her 32. Sherlock is born on January 6, 1980 which makes him 31.

The actual birth date of Sherlock is way back in 1800's so I made up a year for him.

WORK NOT EDITED. Please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors you may find. Some chapters also contains cussing so read at your own risk.

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Mycroft Holmes knew better than to provoke the woman sitting in front of him. Verbally pointing out the fact that her hair has started to frizz so bad to the point of resembling a birds' nest, shortly became part of his very scarce list of bad decisions. It wasn't really his style to provoke people, especially if the situation could turn more volatile than it already is. It was more of Sherlock's really, most of the time Mycroft prefers to keep his mouth shut as he liked to analyze the situation or person in all angles one could possibly find. It made the odds go in his favour. It made him get what he wanted. It made him the most powerful man in Britain. It was crucial for him at all times to be unattached, calm and collected and not doing something as petty as goading. Like he was doing now.

He was also painfully aware that this woman is one of the three people who had the power to hurt him, physically and emotionally. He knew firsthand the consequences of the woman's rage albeit, he just couldn't stop. It was basically suicide to continue, either it may possibly cause the life of his brother or it might lose him his manhood, especially when he already saw the telling signs; the constant twitches of her left index finger, the tight furrowing of her eyebrows and of course, the bird's nest that was already crackling with energy at this point-- yet, he didn't care. He enjoyed every bit of it and needed more.

After all, seeing Hermione Granger for the first time after fifteen years made him a bit vindictive and rightly so.

"Don't tell me you brought me here for just a cup of tea" the witch forcefully gritted the words out and Mycroft could see her trying so hard to remain composed. He almost smirked, but he knew it would set her off too soon and he wasn't finished with her just yet. So he raised a brow instead.

"What's wrong with just tea?" he drawled, his tone with a hint of mocking. "Friends share a cup once in a while you know"

"Friends?" Hermione scoffed, eyes flashing with anger. "We are not friends, never have been and for merlin's sake Mycroft, stop playing around and tell me what you want"

"Who says I'm playing around, let alone want something? It gets a little lonely here sometimes if you must know, and I needed to see a familiar. . .face"

"Please stop testing my patience-"

"How's that Minister Shacklebolt of yours by the way? Does he even do his job or is he the same useless figurehead and you still do all the work for him?"

"I could say the same to you and your minister-"

"I heard the wizarding world is still using owls? Those poor birds. They must be suffering a lot, having to fly those long distances. Maybe that's why I didn't receive any letters from you, your owl must've died on the way"

"Be serious Mycroft!"

"I mean you did send me one did you? You used to send the family every week when you were still at Hogwarts"

She slammed a fist to the table between them, seemingly unable to keep it any longer. "I thought it is of national importance!"

He shrugged, trying to remain casual, but the dark glint in his eyes shows he was anything but that. "it is. . . but it's been fifteen long years, surely the country can wait for us to atleast catch up for a little while? After all, we are friends. More than friends, we are family. Or were. Until you decided to abandon us and forget we even existed"

He saw her sputtering outrageously to find a reply and right at that instance, god bless his soul, he understood for the first time why Sherlock took so much pleasure in rendering people speechless.

Hermione spoke after taking a harsh breath, tone deadly quiet. "I am a very busy woman Mycroft. I have no time for your silly games, whatever it is. Fifteen years may have passed but not once did you seek me out. Why now? I certainly don't think you cared enough for 'catching up', let alone saw us as family, I'm also a hundred percent sure you were happy I left so now, just go straight to the bloody point because I certainly have more important matters to attend to!"

He smirked. This is it. "Oh? More important than my brother?"

Silence.

He saw the change in her face as clearly as he did so all those years ago, when she decided to leave them behind for the greater good, as she described it. All the traces of anger and impatience in her face left in an instant and was sucked by a force of pure melancholy that even he almost flinched at how painstakingly dull her eyes looked compared to the flamed orbs just moments ago. The twitching of the fingers stopped, the knit in her eyebrows slowly started to set in a straight line and the hair even seemed to calm down.

Hermione smiled but it held no humour. "So this is about him then?"

"When was it not about Sherlock?" He replied wistfully and he saw her turn to look out the window, slowly getting lost in her own thoughts. For the first time since he saw her appear out of his fireplace an hour ago, Mycroft finally gathered up the courage to look at her closely. A lot has changed, that much was certain. She definitely was no longer the lanky teenager he remembered her to be, but that part didn't even surprise him. What did though, was the way she composed herself. She stood tall, head held high, even when she was clearly lost in her own reverie it didn't affect the way she brought herself. Her stance demanded respect, her movements were deliberate and graceful and her gaze screamed brilliance and maturity. If it wasn't for the familiar violent temper she still had after all these years, Mycroft might've thought she was a different woman completely. It looked like she finally got out of her self-imposed shell, got rid of all the insecurities and finally evolved into a woman she knew she was capable of, and she did. It shouldn't really surprise him, but it has been so long after all. He spoke after a while, suddenly and strangely subdued at the obvious change in her mood. It felt no longer right to ire her further.

"I'm angry at you, you know"

She seemed to remember that she still had company, and her gaze snapped back to his. "I know. I just don't understand why"

He shook his head exasperatedly. "I thought you were the aware one? Surely you're not as dense as this"

"You're angry at me because I didn't make my presence known for fifteen years?" She frowned. "How is that suppose to make sense Mycroft? We've never really gotten along well enough for you to care. You hated me when we were but children"

All he could do was to let out a rueful chuckle. If he doesn't regret saying what he's about to say next then he must be really getting older than he thought, or maybe, it was simply because deep down he was just glad to see her again. Probably the former. "I never thought I would ever find myself admitting this in my whole life, but I did and still does care. You were the only other person idiotic enough to care for my brother as much as I did, probably even more and I admired you for that. It was a slap in the face when you left and I realized how hard it actually is to look out for Sherlock when you were no longer around". Mycroft also knew he took too long to realize it, and for all the rigid beliefs he sprouted about the impracticality of sentiment, he was still human after all and he found that he has learned to be quite fond of the only person who could handle Sherlock Holmes, albeit blind to it for a long time.

"Mycroft-" Hermione stuttered, out of words. Of all the things she pictured happening in this meeting, including the scenarios where she'd hex his balls off, this was definitely and undeniably not part of it. Merlin, she did not think a day would come where she'll hear Mycroft admit he cared for someone else aside his brother, let alone admit that he realized something he did not before. Her mind reeled with indignation and she wondered if she was just hearing things or this was not Mycroft sitting in front of her. In the end, she felt an unexpected warmth settle in her chest and a little urge to cry her eyes out. Oh how she longed to hear those words when they were still kids. "Goodness, Mycroft. I . . . I d-don't know what to say"

"An apology would be a start" he glared at her, although now it was only half meant. He seemed resigned more than anything, and all he could feel now was the immense relief that finally, finally, she's here. "All these years I've been at my wit's end trying to keep Sherlock alive. You know how he is, you know more than anyone and I'm just angry you didn't bother to find out how things were playing out. You have no idea how much has changed Hermione"

Hermione wanted to bow her head in shame, but instead looked at him straight in the eyes. She wanted him to see she was genuine in this, that she just did what she had to do even if it lost her too much. She spoke softly. "I'm sorry Mycroft, I really am. I just didn't know how to approach you and it was true, you never did seek me out, until now of course. I was assuming I was no longer needed. It was also all my fault why it ended up like this. I knew what I was signing for when I made the decision, I knew and I had to stood by it. . . and it was just so hard, so bloody hard and it took me a very long time to get my self together until it was all I could focus on"

Mycroft made a move to speak but she cut him off with a raise of her hand. She wasn't done yet. She needed to let it all out in the open, as she kept it to herself for far too long. "You have no idea how many times I was this close to knocking at your door, too much for me to count. There were even times where I found myself in muggle London, hoping to bump into him despite the sheer stupidity of it all, before I scold myself and go back home. Alas, I'm not the impulsive girl you always thought me to be, and I have quite the strong sense of self-control and a strong sense of pride, if I must admit. I couldn't let myself be known Mycroft. I had to stand by my decision. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't think I deserved to go back . . ."

Hermione paused for a moment, catching her breath. "When I found your letter this morning, I was so angry. Everything was finally going well in my life, I had regained a sense of balance. The ministry was doing good, my research projects were going very well. Heck, even the wizarding world was slowly starting to change for the better. No more prejudice. No more conflicts. I finally felt a bit happy, because I knew it was somewhat because of my efforts. Then your letter came and it was like the world came crumbling back, like all those years building myself back up was futile because I forgot a tiniest detail, the life I tried so desperately to leave behind and was now catching up." She sighed and let out a small laugh, amused at the drama of it all. "But I was happy you know? I was so ecstatic that you sought me out. I wondered how you looked like now, I wondered how you were doing. How Sherlock's doing. For a split second I forgot everything else, and all I could focus on was that I was going to see you again, see him again. But then I read the part where you said 'it is of national importance' and I was snapped back to reality, back into being angry again. Figured you only wanted to speak because the country is in danger"

There was a pregnant silence, the air seemed to freeze after the confession and it was Mycroft who broke the ice. Although his eyes were soft with understanding, his smirk on the other hand was as insulting as it could get. "Dear Lord, I forgot how emotional you could get"

Hermione's mouth snapped open in shock. It was not the response she expected but it was Mycroft after all and she should've known and because of the absurdity of it all - she woke up like any other day certainly not anticipating to meet a very important figure of her past - she laughed because it seemed utterly ridiculous, how he could go to provoking the hell out of her to confessing he cared for her all this time to insulting how emotional she could get, despite how she had every right to be, considering how much was going on. She laughed harder when she saw the baffled look on his face. "And I forgot how confusing you could get. You were always the hardest one to understand, more so than your siblings"

Mycroft pretended he did not hear the casual mention of his 'siblings'. He liked to go on with his life like he only had one. With a quick glance at his watch, he sighed and cleared his throat. "I think that's enough catching up for now. Time is quite running out and we need to get to the main reason why you're here in the first place"

As if on instinct, Hermione sat straighter, demeanor instantly changed to one he would assume her business mode. He wanted to smile a little at that. "Alright. You have my attention"

"Have you ever heard of the name Moriarty?"

hgshhgshhgshhgshhgsh.

"Sherlock dear, what was that noise I heard ear-" Mrs. Hudson, esteemed landlady of Baker Street, stopped mid-sentence at the sight of the furiously glaring doctor signalling her to keep quiet.

With excruciating care, John Watson managed to tiptoe across the room without a single creak. When he arrived at the main door where the landlady was, he almost sagged in relief. "Bloody hell Mrs. Hudson, keep your voice down!" He said in a hushed whisper, at the same time trying to calm his adrenaline.

"Why, what's wrong?" Taking the hint that it was something serious, the older woman whispered back.

"You're going to wake him up!"

"Who?"

"Sherlock!"

"He's sleeping?" Mrs. Hudson gasped loudly, unable to hide her shock. When John's eyes bulged in panic, she went back to whispering. "He's sleeping?"

"Yes!"

"How on earth is that possible? It's one in the afternoon!"

"Exactly!"

"He never even sleeps at night!"

"Yes, but I finally managed to drug his drink", a brief bubble of laugh escaped John's mouth, giddy that after numerous and countless attempts, he finally succeeded and it was damn a good timing at that. All morning the now sleeping idiot, thank jesus for small miracles, wouldn't stop pestering him as he tend to do on days without a case. In the middle of all the ruckus with Sherlock getting close to murdering the smiley on the wall once again and in bouts of arguments between him and Mr. Skull, John with sweat on his forehead, managed to slip a sleeping drug on his friend's drink unnoticed.

When Sherlock turned away from the skull, he frowned at the sight of a fidgeting John. "You're sweating, why are you sweating?" He asked with a raised brow.

With a lot of effort, John casually walked to his room and shrugged. "Oh just because"

It might have been the boredom or his unfinished argument with Mr. Skull but whatever it was, it made Sherlock awfully oblivious to how John was basically skipping in his steps. Minutes later, the detective passed out snoring.

At the moment, even Mrs. Hudson was grinning from ear to ear. It was truly a marvelous event. "That's wonderful John! where is he?" she whispered excitedly.

"In his couch"

"Can I see him?"

"No! You'll wake him up!"

"But I've never seen Sherlock asleep before dear. I'm awfully curious"

"He looks the same as any other sleeping person Mrs. Hudson!"

"But it's Sherlock-"

"It's just Sherlock"

"I'm a very old lady now John, I won't get to have this opportunity again"

John groaned. Trust the older woman to always resort to guilt tripping. "Fine"

The two adults tiptoed their way across the room to where Sherlock was sleeping at his black leather couch. At the sight of him curled up on one side, with his wild head of curls messier than ever, Mrs. Hudson gushed in adoration.

"Oh he's so adorable"

Despite of himself, John couldn't help but agree. The consulting detective indeed was adorable when asleep, especially with the wild curls he calls hair covering half his eyes and John could only wish he didn't know how much of a beast the man actually is when awake.

Three hours later, the two was sipping tea quietly at the little kitchen of Mrs. Hudson, savouring every single minute of peace. With hints of little mischievous smiles on their faces, it was clear that both of them was enjoying the calm before inevitably, Sherlock wakes up with a boom.

They did not expect however, when seconds later the boom became quite literal and loud and almost half of Baker Street was blown off to pieces.

Alas, there were things too good to last forever.

hgshhgshhgshhgshhgsh.

Hermione sat quietly besides Mycroft, the man she had known almost all her life, not knowing what to say to break the thick silence that descended upon them in the backseat of his car as they go on their way to see Sherlock.

Sherlock.

She didn't know yet what to make of that. She tried desperately not to remember the last time she saw him, the moment when his pale blue eyes morphed into a blank, lifeless gaze when she uttered the obliviate. Taking a deep and much needed breath, she slammed her occlumency shields into place, having mastered the art a long time ago, and focused on how she was going to handle this the best way she could.

It was how she dealt with things that went beyond her control, resorting to occlumency, as it kept her unneeded feelings out of the way. It was necessary, she always reasoned out in her head, necessary for all the things she gets herself into. She needed occlumency when she was slowly infiltrating the ministry. She needed occlumency when she faced all those pureblood bigots in the Wizengamot. She needed occlumency when she attended the weekly dinners at the Burrow. She needed occlumency to forget the worst of the memories, including the ones in her childhood.

She definitely needed occlumency now. She knew no other way if she was to face Sherlock.

Mycroft gave her a choice of course, when he asked her if she could help him. Albeit Hermione already knew her answer way before the question was uttered. She had to help him. She had to do this and she had to do this with a clear and empty mind.

"Moriarty is one of the most dangerous men in the country, possibly in the world" Mycroft said with a deep frown. "and possibly more than me"

"What does Sherlock have to do with him?

He grimaced. "Sherlock happened to expose more than one of his funny businesses and Moriarty got angry. Sherlock being the bloody idiot that he is, continues to stick his nose into matters he has no part of"

"If the funny business you're referring means criminal activities then isn't Sherlock doing the right thing?"

"Clearly you don't think he's doing this out of the goodness of his heart do you? He's just doing this for his own entertainment"

"So you're saying is..."

"What I'm saying is Hermione, is that Sherlock doesn't know the gravity of what he's doing let alone have a faintest idea of who he is dealing with. And now his life is basically on the line"

"What do you need me for then?" She asked gravely, but she felt she already knew.

"I need you to move in to Baker Street. Keep an eye on him. It may sound like I'm asking you to be a spy or a baby sitter but I know no other more capable than you"

She tried to refuse even though deep down she knew it was futile. "but why? Why me? Mycroft I have other matters to attend to. Wizarding Britain is-"

"In good hands" he interrupted. "you know yourself that Shacklebolt is atleast capable, despite your interference, and you said it yourself that everything is already going well. Hermione you're the only one I can trust, the only option I have left. I don't think his old landlady would fit for the job, not even his so called friend John Watson"

"Mycroft-"

"It's your choice. You can leave now or you can come with me"

Hermione shook the conversation out of her thoughts and buried them as well under the thick layer of her shields. She could've just chosen to leave. After all it was so easy to walk away, especially when she was capable of apparation. Yet she didn't, she couldn't. It was out of the question. If she was willing to sacrifice everything she had countless of times for the sake of the safety of the wizarding world, the world who cursed her for her blood, the world who stripped her of her innocence, the world she only knew of at eleven then she was definitely willing to risk her life this time for Sherlock; for the man (a boy back then) who offered her friendship when no one else didn't, for the man who showed her how to be brave, for the man whose pale blue eyes never failed to make her heart--

She hardened her occlumency walls in her head.

No use to dwell on things forbidden. She just had to focus on her job. The car made a right turn, and the soft vibration of the engine calmed her nerves a bit. She could see Mycroft sitting rigidly at the edge of her vision, his mouth forming into an unconscious frown. Whoever this Moriarty was, it did seem he was nasty business.

A couple of agonizing minutes later, the vehicle finally stopped in a halt. "Sir, there's a huge crowd ahead, I can't drive any further" informed the driver worriedly.

"We'll walk from here" Mycroft replied and got out of the car first, and in a show of uncharacteristic gentlemanly behavior, opened the door for her. Nonetheless, she muttered a quiet 'thank you' and followed him up the street. Indeed people were scattered everywhere, seemingly caught up in a commotion, and even the flash of blue and red lights of muggle police cars were present.

"What happened?" She asked worriedly and gasped when she finally saw the building that was almost blown off to pieces.

Mycroft nodded at one of the police officers as they passed through a couple of yellow tapes. He took something out of his pocket, which turned out to be his mobile, and typed aggressively before answering her. "Gas leak, so they say. He's starting Hermione. He's making his first move"

"Who? Moriarty?"

"Do not utter his name" he hissed, and walked straight inside 221B, gesturing her to follow quickly. "He has eyes and ears everywhere. Be careful"

Hermione was suddenly reminded of the second wizarding war, when they couldn't even utter Voldemort's name as it was a taboo. Harry's accidental slip of the name only led her to the scar forever engraved in her forearm. Before she got too carried away in her recollections, however, she was distracted by a distinct shouting just above the stairs they were currently climbing on.

"How dare you drug me to sleep! Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"You were losing out of control! Bored to death! How can you blame me for resorting to certain measures!"

"I don't care! You made me miss the occurrence of the explosion! I could've witnessed it with my own, wide awake eyes!"

There was a silence and then there was an indignant shout, "Wait, you're not angry because I almost killed you for making you sleep? You're angry that you missed the explosion?!"

"What did you expect you imbecile!"

"Jesus you're unbelievable!"

With each step that Hermione took, at the same time restraining her erratic heartbeat but only barely, it was obvious that one of the two arguing voices belonged to Sherlock. She could recognize his voice anywhere. Finally, they arrived at the entrance of the room which quite resembled chaos and the two men arguing snapped their attention towards Mycroft who managed to clear his throat impressively loud.

"Gentlemen, your bickering could be heard all the way down the street" Mycroft drawled arrogantly and Sherlock's eyes rolled in annoyance before it squinted suspiciously and focused on her.

"What do we have here?" Pale blue eyes met golden brown ones, and at that instant, Hermione thanked the stars, or god or merlin or whoever made her a witch, that she was capable of occluding and that she was capable of forcing down her rapidly whirring thoughts to the depths of her mind.

She frowned and managed to speak without pause. "It's a who, and the name is Hermione Granger"

tbc.

(something is wrong with the server these days, if this chapter has a wrong format please let me know so that I can try and edit)