Chapter Text
Silence. For too long silence had been the only way to stay safe. Staying in remote areas where silence meant they were alone. Whispering when traveling to not draw attention to themselves. It had been a fourth companion for several months. Now it meant he was alone. Solitude had also been a companion when he was growing up. A defense mechanism. Trying not to attract Dudley’s unwanted attention. Going to great lengths to not draw his uncle’s ire. Back then he didn’t mind it entirely. Now, in that moment, silence meant Hermione wasn’t within earshot. He resisted the urge to go after her. There was something clearly bothering her deeply. Something she wasn’t willing to talk about entirely. He wanted to keep an eye on her, but he knew better than most that some things needed to be processed fully before admitting them. Trusting the crowds in the village would look out for her, he returned his attention to the stack of mail. It had only been a few hours since Ron took the potions. The strongest possibility was that he was still sleeping and that was why he hadn’t sent them an owl yet. That didn’t change Harry’s expectation that they wouldn’t hear from him that day. Likely not the next. Unless one of them reached out.
Ask Harry what the horcrux showed him.
Ron never talked about it after they returned to the tent. Harry assumed Ron didn’t want to and would have preferred that Hermione didn’t know. That hadn’t stopped Harry from dwelling on the images. They’d follow him into his dreams. He couldn’t blame the locket at that point for the things his mind made up. It was his responsibility to not complicate an already volatile relationship between his two best friends. Hermione was so torn up when Ron left, it was the evidence Harry needed that she really wanted to be with him. If that was her choice, he’d support her. And he’d do what he always did when Ron suffered from self doubt—convince his friend it was all in his head. The truth was, as happy as he was to see Ron when he returned, a part of him was disappointed that the easy companionship which had grown between him and Hermione would be disrupted. It hadn’t been an irrational concern. Hermione was hurt that Ron abandoned them. A betrayal that Harry understood he should feel too. Hadn’t he had a brief time of hating Ron for his words and actions? Hating him for the accusations? Hermione blamed the horcrux. Harry understood the horcrux was just tapping into their thoughts, making them believe a twisted version of their unspoken wants and fears.
Harry looked at the door again. His wants. Once they understood the horcrux was affecting them, he fully expected it to increase his connection with Voldemort. To make him feel the emotions of the dark wizard. That never happened. When he had to locket he’d have acute bouts of loneliness and a heightened fear of being abandoned. That was why, when Hermione followed Ron out of the tent, he was certain she’d apparate away with Ron. He’d been so sure that had been the case, he almost cried when she came back inside. The weeks that followed, he told himself his growing affection for her was a natural result of being the only person in his life he could depend on. It wasn’t fair to her to voice those feelings. They were both hurting and scared. Ron’s return proved he made the right choice. It strengthened his resolve to lie to his friend and tell Ron he didn’t see himself kissing Hermione when he closed his eyes. It was an easy lie because he’d told it to himself so many times.
Hermione kissing Ron at the school had caught him off guard. The biggest surprise was that Hermione initiated it. Under normal circumstances he might have laughed at the reason Hermione finally ended seven years of tension. Ron had grown to think about house elf rights in the middle of utter chaos. A genuine change in thinking. Leave it to Hermione to value personal and intellectual growth over romantic overtures. Harry had fully expected their sudden display of affection would have been the tipping point for a complete and fiery relationship. It didn’t seem like either of them were content and happy after the fact. Far from it.
He wondered if that’s what people thought was in store for him and Ginny. Content and happy bliss. It felt odd to think about such a thing. Not even Ginny herself expected him to pretend now that the war was over, to act like everything could just go back to how it was before. Nothing was the same. Shaking his head, he wasn’t prepared to pick that apart. Summoning parchment and a quill, Harry decided to finally pull in a favor from the ministry. He felt it owed him at least one favor. And he wasn’t shy about who he made his request to.
Dear Minister Shacklebolt,
I’d like access to a portkey to Perth, Australia for myself and Hermione Granger. We need to find her parents and confirm they are safe. I’d prefer that this request remain private for their continued safety as well as our anonymity as we travel.
We are staying at the Hogshead, room 206.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
Folding it neatly, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a small card Kingsley had given him at the school. A private key to the minister’s correspondence. Holding it down onto the seam, he watched a small seal emboss itself onto the parchment. A post address appeared. It was likely the only use he’d have for the direct access and it felt like the best use of the privilege.
As he walked out into the hallway and down the stairs, he imagined what it would be like to travel freely. Wherever they wanted to go. How many times had he dreamed about traveling? Anywhere. Ron had gotten to go to Egypt. Hermione had visited family in France several times. The closest he’d come was watching Indiana Jones with Dudley. His cousin had even taken the time to goad Harry into admitting magic hadn’t taken him anywhere other than Hogwarts. Handing the letter over to the receptionist, she put it in a small box. A flash of light signaled it was on its way to the owl post annex. “Do you know how hard it is to access a vault at Gringotts?” he asked her.
“There is quite a line, I’ve been told,” she said, dug into a small set of boxes and handed him a form. “They’re offering a credit exchange to speed some things up. Fill out your account information and sign with your key. They’re limiting everyone to 500 galleons per day until things stabilize.”
Harry had no idea if that was enough to travel and suspected he needed muggle money more than wizarding currency. Absently, he wondered what would happen if he showed his face in the bank. He was sure they knew he broke into the vaults Griphook would have accused him immediately. They'd know he flew a dragon straight through their building. They probably already collected galleons from his vault for the damages. “Thanks,” he said, reading the instructions. There was plenty of fine print. That also gave him pause. An in-person withdrawal might be the only way. They’d likely have to travel to London for the portkey anyway and he'd worry about it tomorrow.
Looking up, he saw several people staring at him. Australia would be a relief. It was odd. They just spent the past year trying not to be seen. Now all he wanted was to be invisible. Not invisible. A nobody. Someone who could be anyone. A bloke in the crowd with no particular responsibilities. Then guilt shot through him. It seemed like the trip would be anything but a relief for Hermione. He hoped she’d benefit from the freedom of being on the other side of the world. Maybe he could get her a book. Tomes and Scrolls was close. She’d made him spend plenty of afternoons inside. IT was getting late. He’d have to be fast. He wasn’t sure where she went to get them dinner, there weren’t many options to choose from and she might be back any minute. The night air was pleasant enough. The celebrations appeared to be picking up. He was concern a bookstore might not still be open. Or might not still exist after everything the small village had been through.
Harry found himself looking for brown curly hair in the crowds. The familiar tuck of hair behind her ear Hermione did habitually. Where ever she had decided to go for dinner, she must still be waiting. Picking up the pace, he wanted to run this spontaneous errand and find her again. The bookstore looked undamaged. The lights were on. For obvious reasons, it wasn’t crowded. Not many people would think to go to a bookstore in the aftermath of war. The bell jingled when the door pulled on a chain as he entered.
The old shop owner turned away from a stack of books, a look of surprise turned into recognition. “Mister Potter? You’re certainly the last person I’d expect to see,” Henrietta Prim said.
Harry smiled. He knew Hermione enjoyed discussing books and papers with the witch. Hermione had a fondness for her and that meant he cared about the old witch's livelihood. “I’m glad to see your store made it through the war.”
“We were closed more than we were open, I’m afraid. There were plenty of texts that were banned. And even more we were forced to carry in exchange for maintaining some store hours,” Henrietta lamented, straightened a clearly new display of defensive magic. “What brings you in here when the celebration is out there?”
“I know this is a long shot. Do you have any books about Australia? Maybe something about wizarding locations to visit?” he asked, scanning the section labels, not sure if there would be a section for holiday planning in such a store.
“We have a travel section. Over here,” she said, as she led him to a bookcase near a row of reading tables. “It wasn’t bothered by the snatchers. Not globetrotters that lot.” Her fingers danced over the bindings. “There’s a couple here that might fit the bill.”
Harry leaned closer and read the titles. The Wizarding Guide Down Under, Mythic Australia, Off the Beaten Path in Perth. He pulled out all three and flipped through each one. The pictures made him more excited to get away. Beaches. Sunsets. Impressive rock cliffs.
“I’d want to get away too, if I were you,” Henrietta said, watching him. “That first one has a list of all wizarding villages and shops.”
Turning to the section in Perth, he was surprised to see a Gringott’s bank in the shop directory. “Are the banks connected?” he asked, realizing there were any number of things he didn’t know about the wizarding world.
“Oh of course. Obviously your vault is in one physical location, but the goblins have an extensive accounting system between all their branches,” she explained. “The credit system appears to be working again. If you want to charge those to your account. I just need your fingerprint and signature on the ledger.”
Harry followed her to the counter, let her organize the paperwork. He tried not to let the vast void in his practical knowledge overwhelm him. Under normal circumstances he’d ask Molly or Arthur about how things worked. He wasn’t going to bother them about such mundane things. Worst case, they’d stay in muggle places. Not that he or Hermione had vast experience with muggle banking and commerce, but it was more familiar to both of them. He’d trust galleons would work the same in Australia and figure out the rest later. He took out his wand and signed next to his thumbprint. “Thanks.”
“You tell that Miss Granger to stop by soon. She has an eye for a good book.”
“I will,” Harry promised, tucked the books under his arm and stepped back out into the village. It was getting darker and easier to move around without being noticed. He didn’t want to walk around. He wanted to find Hermione and make plans for their trip. The walk back to the inn was rushed and he fought back the unnecessary urgency he was feeling. Some of it was left over fears. Another part was the anticipation to see if she appreciated the purchase. But mostly, he just wanted to make sure Hermione was safe and hadn’t been harassed or confronted in some way. Being inside the inn eased the nerves. He made eye contact with the receptionist.
“All right there, Mister Potter?”
He nodded, feeling silly, knowing he must look a little crazed.
“You got a response to your letter.”
“Already?” he asked surprised. She pushed a small parcel toward him. It was unassuming in its brown wrapping.
“The ministry seems to be focused on restoring the floo and mail network. Communications are the best way to sort out the mess Thickness made of things.”
Adding the parcel to the books, he thanked her and turned back to the stairs, taking them two at a time. He forced himself not to run to their door and even took a second to take a breath. He didn’t want her to think he was losing it. Before he could turn the handle the door opened.
“Oh, Merlin, I was worried,” Hermione said, pulling him into the room. “I got back and you were gone.”
Harry felt both guilt and relief. He hadn’t meant to worry her, but he felt more justified in his reaction to being separated from her for less than hour. “I sent that request to the minister,” he explained, set his packages down.
“And then you went shopping,” she asked, the panic fading to humor. “For books?”
He took the box from the ministry off the top of the stack so she could see the titles. “For you… er… us. In case you need extra time in Australia. We can plan for options,” he offered, trying not to make light of the reason for their travel while still giving her permission to take the whole process as slow as she needed.
“You got me books?” she asked, flipped through the top one. “That was really sweet.”
“I thought it would help. What’s for dinner?” he asked, looking for something he could do, but she already had the table set.
“Fish and chips. And some butterbeers. The Three Broomsticks has a food cart to handle the excess people,” she explained, opened the containers.
The smell of beer battered cod made his stomach growl.
“Just in time,” she said with a laugh. “What else did you get?”
They both sat, he lifted the parcel. “Kingsley sent this off already,” he said, ripping open the paper. The ministry seal appeared to gleam in the light. Lifting the top, a small scroll was set neatly in a slot above a silver bar with two handles. Unrolling the parchment, he read as she filled their plates.
“Dear Harry,
This portkey will take you directly to the ICW Embassy of Australia in Canberra. Instructions to activate the portus charm is attached. Travel paperwork for you both have been forwarded to their customs department. They will provide you with any necessary muggle identification or wizard support.
I took the liberty of locating Hermione’s parents. Their address is contained in this box, along with some galleons and muggle Australian dollars. Consider this an advance on the debt the ministry owes you in the form of reparations. If you encounter any troubles on your journey, don’t hesitate to contact my office directly. Your card will work indefinitely.
You, Hermione, and Ron are invited to meet with me at your convenience to discuss your career aspirations.
Sincerely,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
The 35th Minister for Magic”
Finding a drawer at the base, Harry pulled it out. Two scrolls were set within a velvet lining along with neatly organized rows of coins and paper money. One scroll was addressed to Hermione. He handed it to her. He tried not to stare at her while she read it to herself. He could see tears well up in her eyes.
“Oliver and Wendell Wilkins are working in a clinic that provides medical services to refugees,” Hermione told him.
Harry wasn’t surprised. He didn’t know them very well, just what Hermione told him and the few times he met them at Diagon Alley, but he understood Hermione more knowing her parents had the same urge to care for the vulnerable around them. “They’re still dentists, then?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t an insensitive question.
Nodding, she took a bite of fish, “I spent weeks making sure they could do what they loved. I confounded an administrator at the General Dental Council and got copies of their new licenses. I got their passports updated, made sure the house was titled correctly. I asked them all sorts of questions to make sure I was aware of every account. I spent loads of time at the library making sure I fixed everything I could so they wouldn’t run into trouble. But the most important thing was to make sure they could still practice. I didn’t want to take that away from them.”
He placed his hand on top of hers to stop her from spiraling. “You didn’t take anything from them. You protected them. Once you reverse the memory charm we can ask Kingsley to help us bring them back to England.” Even as he said the words to comfort her, he understood it might not be so simple. That didn’t mean she should continue to beat herself up over trying to do the right thing.
She nodded her head, he sensed she was deferring to his words while not agreeing completely. Taking her hand back, she poured the butterbeers. “I didn’t discuss any of it with them directly.”
He leaned back and thought about the seriousness of her confession. Her hesitation to find them started to make more sense. “You didn’t think they’d leave if they were given the choice?”
Hermione was suddenly interested in the label on the empty bottle next to her glass. She picked at a peeling corner. “I thought it was going to be a permanent solution and I didn’t want them to know.”
A permanent solution. Harry swallowed. “You thought we were all going to die.”
“It was a strong possibility. I was afraid if I told them how dangerous it was to stay, they’d refuse the memory charm. They’d go into hiding worrying about me. If I died, they might never know or worse, they’d regret not doing something to protect me. I didn’t want to have the argument with them. I didn’t want to admit any of my fears out loud. And if I died, I didn’t want them to spend their life grieving the loss.”
He hated that she had to spend so much energy thinking about such a terrible outcome. It hit him even harder knowing she chose to go on the run with him knowing the most likely result would be her death. She never let on that she seriously considered such a thing. “We’ll…” Harry started, surprised by the emotion in his own words. Taking steadying breath, he nodded his head, sure they’d fix it for her. “We’ll explain it to them. They might be hurt, but they’ll understand. Once we explain it.”
~~/~~
A thick fog surrounded Harry. It was too dense to see further than a few feet. Green, purple, and red flashes lit up the distance. Ash fell down around him in large flakes. The grass crunched under his shoes. Fragments of wood and stone littered the ground. Taking another step, there was a sound of something wet under the debris. Bending down for a closer look, he was horrified to see the blood soaking the ground.
Standing straight, he wanted to run. He had no idea where he was or which direction to go. Screams to his right. Should he run to them or away?
“Harry!”
It was Hermione. He didn’t hesitate. He ran toward the sound. “Hermione! I’m coming!”
The ground pitched up. He knew where he was. Hogwarts. It was the hill leading up to the grounds. He must have died. He’d been too late. He stayed too long in limbo. The ground turned to a grotesque slurry of mud and blood. His feet sunk into the hillside. Slowing him down.
“No! It’s a copy. It’s just a copy!”
“Hermione!” Harry called out again. Desperation pulled him down. Bellatrix was torturing her again and he was too slow. “Hermione!”
“Hey, Harry, I’m right here,” Hermione whispered in his ear.
He could feel her arms wrapped tightly around him. Tracing comforting circles on his back. He could feel her fingers slide up and down with the beat of her words.
“We’re okay. Wake up," she urged him on.
He buried his head in her shoulder. Appreciated the familiar smell of her shampoo. Lilac, jasmine, and freesia. He’d read the label on the bottle to find out why she was so intoxicating. He let it transport him away from the nightmare to a calm garden full of flowers and fresh spring air. They were in the same bed again. It had been easier to take care of her scar. Restful sleep hadn’t happened for either of them. He told himself that was why he had the nightmare. Exhaustion. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”
She hugged him tighter. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. He wasn’t in a hurry to end her embrace. She was the first person he could remember hugging him. He never told her how much her affection meant to him, he suspected she knew. She knew how little the Dursley’s cared about his well being. It wouldn’t take a leap in logic to know there were no hugs in his life since his parents were killed. Molly went out of her way too. It was different. Finally he pulled back, convinced he had his emotions under control.
“You were saying my name,” she told him.
He could make up a story. He didn’t need to. “Nightmare. I heard you screaming and I couldn’t get to you.” He moved a pillow toward her.
She let him slide it under her cheek, readjusted to get a better look at him. “Bellatrix?” she asked.
Harry brushed her hair back from her face. “Maybe. Spending all night remembering what she did to you. I think I was at Hogwarts though.”
“I think we can expect our dreams to get worse before they get better.”
“You’re having nightmares too?” he asked, concerned she’d been suffering silently.
She rested her hand against his chest. He could feel the heat from her touch. “Not when I’m close to you. At Shell Cottage, when we were separated at night I had a few.”
Harry searched her eyes. He wanted there to be a deeper meaning to her words. She’d said being close to him helped. Not to him and Ron. Not to Ron. He took her hand, ran his down her arm. They were both still in their clothes from the day before. It had been a habit they developed. They needed to be prepared to run at a moment’s notice. Comfort was a luxury they learned to live without. He wasn’t even sure if she had anything with her that she would consider pajamas. Another thing to rectify in Australia. He examined her forearm. That salve hadn’t changed colors yet. It'd been a few hours since they last applied a new layer. “I think it’s improving. Does it feel better?”
Testing the area by twisting her wrist, she nodded. “I can’t tell if the mark has lessened. It’s not as sensitive as it was yesterday.”
For once something seemed to be going their way. Harry pushed himself up. “Do you want breakfast before we leave?” he asked.
Hermione rolled onto her back, looked up at the ceiling. She pulled her arm close to her chest.
Harry held his breath. If she told him she didn’t want to go to Australia today he’d respect her choice. He’d wait until she was ready. Or maybe she’d admit she’d rather wait until Ron could leave his family. He should see if Ron sent them an owl yet. “Do you want to wait for Ron?” He wasn’t sure if he was testing her or trying to help her. She should want to do this with her boyfriend. Ron should be the one helping her through the emotional landmines. Harry knew Hermione wasn’t in a hurry. Waiting for Ron made sense.
“No. His family needs him. We should send him an owl though. So he knows.”
Harry wondered if they could go to Australia, get her parents, and come back before Ron was done giving them the silent treatment. There was a strong possibility. That didn’t mean they should do it. Now wasn’t the time to be petty. “I’ll let him know.”
“We can send him an address once we get settled. If he wants to join us,” she offered. “It will be good to leave this behind. For a bit.”
His eyes narrowed. Was she doing this for him? That’s not what he wanted either. He worried he pushed her too hard the day before. “The portkey will work whenever we’re ready. Whenever you’re ready.”
“We can get breakfast in Canberra,” she said, finally getting up. “I’ll shower and change.” As she walked past him, she put a gentle hand on his forearm. “Thanks for taking care of me last night. You didn’t have to keep getting up with me.”
She was in the bathroom before he could reply. They took care of each other. He couldn’t imagine life without her constantly by his side. He might have to imagine such a thing. They both had decisions to make. Kingsley alluded to it in their meeting at the school and again in his letter. It was time to get jobs and find a life after Hogwarts. He wasn’t anymore inclined to join the Aurors than he was the day before. Hermione never talked about what she wanted to do after school. There was a cold realization that when they got back from Australia their lives might diverge. This could be the last time they had the freedom to just exist with each other. No demands. He was determined he wouldn't take their time together for granted.