Pieces of a chess game [Sherlock x Harry Potter Crossover] [COMPLETE]

Chapter 9: "A study in magic"

The first time Hermione visited Chiswick Cemetery, precisely five years ago, it had been during an unusually warm day. Several people had been enjoying the rare rays of sun that February afternoon, but she had been too preoccupied watching over her shoulder to fully appreciate the serenity of the place. Today, as she crossed the gates with her gloved hands in her pockets, she noticed she was almost alone. The cemetery had been opened for a little longer than an hour, and Hermione only found a couple of runners in their morning jog as she walked past the headstones. In the distance, she spotted a red coat, a splash of colour against the bleak sky. Hermione approached Mary and stood next to her, shoulders brushing against each other in a silent greeting. Mary did not move. Instead, she kept looking down to a simple marble gravestone, where a fresh bouquet of purple freesias and white roses lied.

Mary Elizabeth Morstan

Born Asleep

6 October 1972

"I often wonder if her parents are alive," said Mary after a while. "If they come often, and wonder who might leave these flowers to their daughter. If they've got other children -"

"If they remember her," finished Hermione. Mary nodded.

"Five years ago, I had no one that would remember me if I was gone. And now..." Mary sighed and smiled at Hermione. "John said he loved me last night."

Hermione laughed and took Mary's hand. "And you are freaking out." Mary shrugged. "You've never freaked out before."

"This is different, those people weren't... I knew they were temporary. Jesus, David drove me insane, do you remember? But John... He's different." Hermione watched Mary bite her cheek and how her eyes watered. Mary brushed her fingers against her eyes, removing the tears. "I have this thing here," she said, putting a hand over her stomach. "That tells me this is it, he is it. And he's opened a door I didn't even know could exist in my life, that I didn't even know I wanted." Mary licked her lips and shook her head. "And now I'm terrified of my past ever catching up with me. With us."

"Wait, you mean -"

"I can't tell him, Hermione!" interrupted Mary. "John would hate me. This is not a job for Mycroft, not a spy movie, I..." Mary dropped her voice as a woman sprinted near them. "I was a mercenary. A gun for hire. If he knew half the things I've done, he would despise me, and with good reason. Rosamund died the moment I reached your door. He can't know. Promise me."

"I promised you years ago your secret is safe with me, Mary."

"It's not you who I'm worried about."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Mycroft has nothing to win from John knowing who you were. He's gone over the top, protecting him, all because he wants to honour his brother's memory."

"Mycroft Holmes has no allegiances to anything but England." Said Mary and Hermione dropped her arms and looked away. "There's something, isn't it? Your gut is telling you there's something wrong. Otherwise, you wouldn't have asked me to look into The Empty Hearse."

Hermione shifted in her place. Around them, the cleaning crew and the caretakers had started doing their rounds, so Mary linked her arms with Hermione's, making their way to the exit.

"Mycroft has a lot of resources. He's the master puppeteer," continued Mary. "I mean, he completely scrapped my past, gave me a new identity, a backstory, college degrees... All of that before my stitches had even healed properly."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Is it really such a farfetched idea?" They had arrived at the gates and then turned left towards the rail station. "Have you seen how Molly reacts when someone mentions Sherlock?"