Author's Note: Well, this is it—the last chapter! I struggled to write this because it's always so bittersweet ending a story. I'm glad there will be a sequel, although I'm not sure when that will get started. I plan on focusing on Empire and Partners in Time for a while before I dive back into this. Just make sure to keep an eye out for Nights in 221B ;) Thank you again for all the lovely reviews, follows, and favorites for this story. I hope you've enjoyed this short little fic! Love always, xxDustNight

Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling or BBC or whoever is lucky enough to make the big bucks. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sitting silently across from one another in her shop, Hermione and Sherlock said nothing as their tea grew cold. They were waiting on Harry to arrive, having heard from him earlier that morning via owl. They'd spent the day drifting between the bedroom and her study, making love or conducting further research. While nerves simmered just below the surface, they managed to find enough distractions to keep from going mad.

Hermione had told Harry to make sure he came alone, leaving Draco out of their meeting so he would not make presumptuous comments about her decision to not return to him. She no longer felt anything but contempt for the wizard, wanting nothing to do with him besides this one last case. Draco would probably try and sway her decision as he always did, so keeping him away was the best option for the time being.

Tracing the rim of her teacup with her fingertip, Hermione glanced at Sherlock through her eyelashes. He was reading a book on Voldemort, a look of deep concentration on his face. She was concerned about him, about how far he was willing to go to take Moriarty down once and for all. She recalled the story of him faking his death to protect those he loved before, and worried what he might do if it came to such extremes this time around. She could no longer imagine a world without him in it, her entire being tuned into his every action.

It was ridiculous of course, having always been so independent, but there was something about Sherlock that made her never want to be alone again. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the book and caught her watching him. A smirk slid onto his lips and he set aside the tome. He was just about to say something, his eyes sparkling with mischief, when the door to the shop opened and in walked Harry, a grim expression on his face.

The two turned their attention to the new arrival, Hermione rising from her seat to meet him halfway. Her oldest friend ran a hand through his messy hair, making it stick up more than usual. He glanced briefly at Sherlock, offering him a nod of acknowledgement before turning his attention to Hermione. She stopped walking, heart hammering in her chest when she realized he was not there with good news.

"He got away, didn't he?"

"We tracked him to what was rumored to be his last location, but it was empty," Harry explained somberly. "There were no traces, magical or otherwise, for us to follow. We're essentially at a dead end until he pops up again."

"You mean, until he kills again," she whispered, fear making her stomach churn. "What are we going to do?" She turned to Sherlock with a wide-eyed look of panic. Calmly, he stood from the table, gathering his coat around him as he joined the pair in the middle of the room.

"We will have to draw him out," Sherlock elucidated, a look of determination already on his face.

"What!?" Hermione practically shrieked, reaching out to grab hold of his forearm. "Absolutely not—we talked about this! We were going to be careful and not do anything rash." Sherlock said nothing and she swallowed, hard. He wasn't going to budge on this, and she knew it. Turning back toward Harry, she hoped he'd be on her side. But when she saw his gaze trained on Sherlock, she knew she was alone in her thoughts.

"What do you have in mind," Harry probed, eyes narrowed behind black frames.

Eyeing the wizard warily, Sherlock contemplated how much to share of his plans. As he buttoned his jacket, he stepped forward to stare down at Harry. "It will take some time to set my trap. I'll need to return to Baker Street and consult with Dr. Watson." Turning to Hermione, he placed a surprisingly gentle kiss upon her cheek. "Meet me in the back alleyway." Then, he turned and exited the shop, door snapping shut behind him.

Hermione started to move after him, but Harry stopped her, grabbing hold of her hand. "Harry, let go—I need to go and talk him out of whatever insane plan he's formulating." When Harry didn't let go, merely stared at her with a sad expression in his green eyes, she finally stopped struggling. Sighing heavily, she dropped her gaze, blinking back the tears that began to form.

"Relax, Hermione. He's not going to leave without saying goodbye to you first." Harry released her hand, crossing his arms instead. "Now, tell me…how long have you been in love with him?"

"I—I don't know," she admitted, lifting her head and wiping at her eyes. "It sort of hit me yesterday, but it's undeniable." Wetting her lips, Hermione watched as her best friend contemplated her words. Knowing how close he was to Draco, she worried that he'd try and talk her out of her feelings, and back into the blond's arms. He surprised her though, coming forward and wrapping her in a hug.

"Stop worrying so much. I promise we're going to catch this Moriarty character and then everything will be right in our world again." Hermione pulled away, glaring at her friend.

"Not just our world, Harry—the entire world. Don't forget this man has been tormenting Muggles in addition to the Muggleborns and Halfbloods."

"I understand that, but don't you think it's time you stopped hiding away? You should come back to the Ministry. It's where you belong."

"You mean back to Draco! Say it, Harry! Just go ahead and say it!" She was practically screaming now, chest heaving and curls flying about as she lost control of her emotions. It was rare that she fell into this sort of behavior, but Harry was pushing her limits with this conversation. She didn't want or need to go back to work at the MLE or Draco's waiting arms.

"Whoa," Harry tried calming her down, his hands held up in front of him. "That's not what I'm saying at all. The Ministry is nothing without your critical mind. You used to love writing policies and making sure the Aurors and MLE officers were in line; not to mention, solving difficult cases. I know you suffer from PTSD…I do too, but I think it would do you some good to come out of this shell you've formed around yourself. I'm not trying to get you back together with Draco…no at all. His voice grew quiet then, shoulders sagging in defeat. "I told him just this morning he needed to let you go…that you've moved on."

Pacing, Hermione tried to get her frantic breathing under control. She periodically glanced at Harry, trying to articulate the thoughts that were spiraling through her mind. Finally she stopped, facing her long-time friend after mulling over his words. "I've been ensconced in this world since I was eleven years old," she told Harry, dragging her hands through her curly hair. She was tired of being reminded that she was a witch—she was so much more than that, she just needed time and space to figure out exactly what.

Harry was quiet for a spell, watching as she continued to war with her inner chaos. "What are you planning to do," he questioned, a bit of trepidation underlying the words. Watching as she walked to the darkened front window of the shop, he felt a sense of dread building in his chest.

She laughed then, a short bark that didn't sound the least bit entertained. Turning slowly away from the window, she sighed heavily before shrugging. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask me that."

"Hermione…"

She held up her hand, walking over and wrapping Harry in a hug of her own. "Shhh," she whispered into his shoulder. "Please don't say anything else—just…just let me go." When she released him and backed away, she was surprised to see the wetness on his cheeks. Nodding at him, she walked toward the door, opening it and stepping into the night. She didn't turn around, refusing to see the look of disappointment in his eyes, or the broken one that followed when he finally realized she wasn't stopping…

Sherlock was waiting for her at the back of the shop, a blank expression on his face. He didn't look surprised, but then again, he never did. Without a word, he climbed the wall, moving to stand on the ledge. Hermione stared up at him, contemplating what she was about to do. Could she truly go through with her plan? Could she seriously leave everything she knew behind just so she could help bring down this criminal? Without asking what was on her mind, what she intended, he crouched down, extending his right hand to her.

Knowing she needed to decide quickly, Hermione briefly closed her eyes. Memories of the past washed upon her, making her tremble and new tears prick at her eyes. If she remained, she'd be bombarded with requests to return to the Ministry, but if she left…if she left, she would be free to do as she wished. And Sherlock would be by her side. Her heartbeat sped up at that thought and she opened her eyes, brown locking onto that strange bluish-green that made her think of the sea. Exhaling slowly, she came to a decision.

She stepped forward, taking Sherlock's hand and allowing him to help her climb atop the wall. Hermione paused, worrying her lip as she glanced over her shoulder, back down the alleyway that led to the Wizarding world. She wasn't sure if she would ever return, so she took a moment to take it all in. With a deep, shuddering breath, she turned away, bidding farewell to her magical past and nights in Diagon Alley.