Chapter 34 - When in Sydney

Ron woke up with a start, gasping frantically. He was drenched in sweat, but that had only occurred to him once he had clutched Hermione's hand, and realised how sticky his own was.

Hermione was still asleep. It must've been the middle of the night. He had had a nightmare. He ran his hands over his face, and, in his dreary state, couldn't tell if there was sweat on his cheeks, or tears.

Almost mechanically, he squeezed Hermione's hand and got out of the bed, reaching for the nearest jumper and pair of trousers he could find. All whilst trying to make the least noise as possible, Ron dressed and left his bedroom, letting his feet carry him out to the Orchard.

He fell to his knees in front of Fred's grave, his shaking hands wiping away the constant tears. The nightmare had been about Fred, in his final moments. The fiendfyre. The blast. The wail from Percy.

Ron almost shouted out at the anger built up inside of him; the same anger that Hermione had made him suppress during the battle, before he went and got himself killed.

It had been a few weeks now, but it was as if a part of Ron was still in denial. A part of him was still waiting for Fred to walk through the door, crack a joke about the whole thing, and never look back. But that wouldn't ever be the case.

He fell to a sitting position as his tears transpired into sobs. Fred was really gone. Yet Ron still had to dream of him as if he was good and alive. Ron couldn't quite gauge that only a month ago Fred was good and alive. It wasn't as if he was ill. It wasn't as if anyone was expecting it. One second he was there, and the next, not.

He pulled his knees up to his chest as what had recently been somewhat suppressed grief erupted over him. Partly, Ron wondered if his wails were loud enough to wake someone in the house. But another part of him was far too focused on what caused the grief to worry if he had woken up the whole next village or not.

The sobs became so wild and untamed that Ron was struggling to breathe properly, so steadied himself, the image of the grave before him becoming clearer as his eyes opened.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered to himself, rubbing his sore eyes.

His nightmare hadn't been anything too imaginative. In fact, it was bloody terrifying just how exactly his subconscious managed to conjure up the scene again. But, it was more than enough to evoke waves of upset.

Ron took deep breaths. He couldn't let this consume him for the next however-long. He needed to be there for Hermione. It was actually probably a good thing that he had gotten this out of his system, alone, especially. Hermione would only go mad with worry about him, and protest that he stayed here while she went away. Not to mention their conversation about being more open with each other...

Feeling his eyes shut with the new-found exhaustion, Ron decided it was time to go back in. It wouldn't be long before Hermione or his mum woke up, and he didn't want any fuss. He had just wanted to see Fred. Even if it had taken a whole sodding nightmare for him to realise it.

Expecting the kitchen to be empty, Ron jumped at the sight of his best friend sitting at the table.

Harry looked curiously up at Ron, but must have noted his red-rimmed eyes, for he didn't ask him where he had been or why he was awake at such an hour. Ron, however, couldn't think of why Harry'd be up. He looked quite a state, but his hair had always been like that.

"Alright?" he asked gruffly, taking a seat opposite.

Harry sighed. "Not really. Gin and I are still sorting a few things out."

"At this hour?" chortled Ron.

Missing, or ignoring, the levity, Harry mused, "it was stupid of me to expect us to go back to how we were."

Ron thought of sixth year, and the shock he had when Harry and Ginny had gotten together. It wasn't just surprise, though, or even brotherly protectiveness. It was also jealousy. Everything was smooth sailing for them. All Ginny had to do was kiss Harry, in the middle of the common room - no less, and that was it; they had had quite a harmonious spring. Apart from all the Voldemort stuff, obviously.

Ron had certainly envied how simple their relationship looked, especially after how royally he had fucked up with Hermione that year. It took a bloody poisoning just to reunite him and her as friends, yet Harry and Ginny seemed to have no such trouble in that department. They hardly bickered at the rate he and Hermione did, too.

So, as he listened to his best friend now, Ron was quite shocked to hear they were having problems. Obviously, he didn't expect their relationship to be flawless, especially after Harry had all nobly and respectfully broken up with Ginny before their hunt. But, it still quite surprised him to find Harry in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, after an argument with Ginny.

"So, how come you're down here?"

"We were just talking; Ginny couldn't sleep, and had 'accidentally' woken me up," he half-smiled as he retold that much, but his expression returned to that of glumness once he continued. "The last year came up, as it usually does. Ginny has thousands of questions, and I don't mind answering them all, because I know that she was upset that I left without her. But that was it; she became upset over that again. I try to explain it to her every time, Ron, I do, but she's still adamant that she should've been let to come. She can't believe that I didn't at least tell her about the Horcruxes, and she won't accept the fact that I care too much about her as an excuse - even if she believes it," Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

Ron blew out a breath. Ginny, like him, could be awfully stubborn. He could see it from both of their sides, so it was difficult to advise Harry on what to do other than wait.

"She's hurt, I guess," Ron concluded, a bit hopelessly. "You know, you had gotten close towards the end of sixth year, so it probably hit her as a bit of a shock to find you had been hiding something from her-"

"But I had to do it!" Harry interjected, and his exasperation revealed all too well just how many times he had argued that point recently.

"Yeah but, Harry, mate, you've done countless things because you 'had to', and you've ended up winding up loads of people for it," Ron explained, smirking.

"But it was different with the Horcruxes! Dumbledore had just about given me permission to tell you and Hermione!"

"Did you even think about telling Ginny?"

"Of course I did, but it was never really an option. It'd be far too dangerous. Don't you remember how much persuasion it took from you and Hermione for me to shut up about you two coming, let alone be okay with it."

Ron nodded, "I think that's what probably pisses Ginny off the most. You let me and Hermione come, but-"

"But that's different!" Harry spluttered. "She hadn't seen half the things we had-"

Ron laughed sympathetically. "Oh, Harry, you must know that that would never have been a good enough excuse for Ginny."

Harry sighed in defeat. "We've both landed ourselves with quite stubborn women," he chuckled.

Ron's eyes widened in fear. "Merlin, have we. I'm even related to one of them!"

"Well, I will be, too, soon," teased Harry, guffawing at the height Ron's eyebrows shot up to.

"Bloody hell, don't give mum the idea," he shuddered. "Right, well, I'm knackered."

"Yeah, sorry for keeping you up. Are you… okay, by the way? I should've said something when you first came in, but-"

"I'm fine, honestly." Ron knew he wasn't telling the absolute truth, but he was frankly too exhausted to worry about having another heart-to-heart.

"Alright, well, good night," said Harry, walking towards the living room once they reached the hall.

"Where're you going?" asked Ron, one hand on the bannister.

"The sofa; it's probably the best."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said, nodding his head up towards the stairs.

He opened his bedroom door as quietly as he could, nodding to the forgotten camp bed as Harry walked in behind him.

"Better than the sofa, at least," whispered Ron, crawling into bed beside Hermione.

"Thanks, Ron," said Harry, sitting down on his own bed.

Ron cringed in anticipation as he watched Hermione stir, but she didn't seem too bothered about being awakened, as she wrapped her arms around him. "Mmm," she sighed as she stretched. "Where have you been?"

"Toilet," lied Ron, hoping Harry wouldn't say anything, or judge him too much.

Hermione nodded, snuggling up closer as she entwined their legs. "Oo, your feet are freezing!" she noted, before placing kisses up his jaw towards his ear. An action of which, under most other circumstances, Ron would without-question melt into, but with the thought of a very much awake Harry in the room, he was struggling to enjoy it. "I'm sure we can get you warmed up," Hermione whispered in his ear.

"I'd suggest another blanket!" Harry quickly squealed, and Hermione jumped in shock.

"Harry? What-why are you in here?" she asked, propping herself up on an elbow. Thank goodness she had worn a top tonight. She'd seriously have to talk to Ron about his brothers and Harry wandering into the room while she was asleep.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Ron beat him to it. "We've got a guest this evening, love." He mouthed, "Ginny" to a thoroughly confused Hermione.

"Oh," she said with understanding. "Oh, sorry, Harry. Are you alright?"

"Great, thanks. Wouldn't mind it though if you two just… you know… didn't…"

Ron laughed, but Hermione looked completely mortified. "Honestly," she huffed, turning the other way as she lay back down.

Harry and Ron were suppressing giggles, and the scene very much mirrored their times in school.

The difference here was that Ron could placate Hermione by wrapping an arm around her waist. "Sorry, babe," he mumbled into her hair.

Hermione shook her head, although she struggled to stay annoyed, lacing her fingers with Ron's. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night."

Hermione found that the butterflies in her stomach were far too frantic for her to enjoy breakfast - thank goodness it was only light (in Weasley terms), as Mrs Weasley was preparing a grand lunch, instead. Although, she couldn't determine the feeling in her stomach as being caused by excitement or nerves. Both was probably correct, and she admonished herself for feeling like this before they had even left the Burrow! It wasn't as if they could just apparate to Australia; they had a long journey ahead of them, so she tried to keep her emotions in check, as she and Ron readied to leave, in only a few hours.

She had tried to figure out when, exactly, Harry had retreated to his old camp bed last night, but Hermione had refrained from asking as she observed the stifling awkwardness between him and Ginny at the breakfast table. She looked to Ron questioningly, and he leaned in enough to quietly say, 'I'll tell you later,' whilst also avoiding any teasing from George about their proximity.

'Later' was yet to come, as Ron and Hermione had spent the morning with everyone else, and hadn't managed a private moment. Which was great, but Hermione was struggling to join in with many of the conversations, her mind running over and over everything, for surely the hundredth time.

They were sitting outside in the Orchard with Harry, Ginny and, pleasantly, George. The sun was shining particularly generously today, and the atmosphere was calm and relaxed. Hermione's atmosphere, however, was quite different. She played with her plait nervously, unable to stop herself from thinking over the plan. The Portkeys were all set at very strict and specific times, so there was no room for error; missing even one Portkey would discourse their whole trip.

Ron, however, seemed perfectly relaxed, considering he was also embedding on the journey. Obviously, it was different for him as he didn't have to worry about the Charm, or his relationship with her parents, but it was still an important trip! And he was treating the day as though they were popping out to the shops later, and not across the whole world.

Mrs Weasley announced lunch, which was convenient timing, as Hermione had to hold herself back from asking Ron if he even understood the enormity of their trip.

Their last lunch was done in style, and Hermione felt awful if she didn't eat well, considering the effort that Mrs Weasley had poured into it. So, despite her fluttery belly, she ate until she was full.

After the tidying up after lunch was done, Hermione wasted no time in racing off to Ron's bedroom, quadruple-checking their luggage and legal documents, before repacking her beaded bag.

"Need any help?" asked Ron, coming to sit beside her.

"No, everything's been done," she muttered, unable to keep the bitter tone from her voice.

"Hey." Ron took one of her hands, halting her anxious faffing with the bag. "Are you okay? You've been a bit distant today."

Hermione looked up at him, the concern in his eyes softening her own immediately. How could she ever doubt that Ron didn't care? Of course he did, even if he wasn't running around like a headless chicken with planning things, like she had been.

"Sorry. I'm fine, really. Just a bit nervous. I'm ready, though, are you?"

Ron nodded, before standing and taking her hand. "Brace yourself for the longest bloody goodbye you'll ever have," he sighed, leading them out of his room.

With a nervous glance back towards his bedroom, Hermione followed Ron downstairs, where his family waited near the front door.

Mrs Weasley gasped, and rushed towards the staircase. "Are you ready? Have you packed everything? Ron, you remember how to act in Muggle places, don't you?"

Ron's cheeks flushed pink at his mum's nagging, and he decided to just huff in response. Hermione was encased by Mrs Weasley's embrace, and Ron glanced around the kitchen, shocked to find even Bill and Fleur here.

"We're here to bid you goodbye, Ronnie," Bill answered to Ron's questioning gaze.

Ron rolled his eyes at the nickname, "you really didn't have to-"

"Nonsense!" His mother snapped, nearly knocking the air out of him as she hugged him.

"Mum," chuckled Ron, hugging her back, "we really won't be gone long, there's no need for all of this-"

"You'll keep each other safe, won't you?" Mrs Weasley interrupted again, looking worriedly between Ron and Hermione. "And you've packed that food I made you? You never know if you might need it."

"Yes, thank you, Mrs Weasley," replied Hermione, receiving a hug from Fleur.

"Bring us something back from Australia, even if it means leaving Ron there instead," teased Ginny, standing back beside Harry.

"Oi!" Ron retorted, although he was mightily relieved to see that that pair had seemed to be on a better page since lunch.

"Try not to argue too much," joked Harry. "Just make sure Ron's had lunch before you question why he's grumpy."

Ron scowled, but Harry added, "and make sure Hermione's got a book in front of her, then you should both be alright."

"Yes. Thank you, Harry," said Hermione sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she hugged him.

"Don't find another dark wizard to go after while we're gone, alright?" smirked Ron, as his glance flitted over to the rest of the circle; his dad, George and Percy watching with smiles, offering nods as Ron and Hermione made their way to the front door.

"Right, well, we're off. Thanks, guys, we'll see you soon," said Ron, taking Hermione's hand.

"Yes; thank you so much for everything. We'll write whenever we can!"

Ron doubted that many letters would be sent from Australia, given the distance, but Hermione's promise was enough to please his mum, who's eyes were now shimmering with tears.

"Good luck, you two!" Mrs Weasley called as they stepped through the front door, Ron sighing as they walked away from the house.

"You'd think we were going away for good, with a bloody farewell like that."

"I suppose. But I wish you hadn't kept promising your mother that we wouldn't be gone for long; we have no idea how long it will take, Ron."

Ron looked at Hermione dumbfoundedly. They hadn't even made it up the path yet, and they were already having problems! No, he told himself off. There was no need to overthink this. Hermione was anxious, of course she was, it had nothing to do with him, really.

"Sorry, you're right," he said.

Hermione glanced up at him, as if checking for traces of sarcasm, but she seemed satisfied enough.

"Do you think the Ministry will be busy?" she asked, biting her lip thoughtfully.

"Doubt it. It's Sunday, after all." Ron squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"That's true. I just don't think I'd be able to wear a polite enough expression for long, if there's a lot of paparazzi there," she chuckled dryly.

Ron nodded. The Daily Prophet, for some reason, was back up and running. Naturally, the war was filling the pages, but Ron had no intention of reading it. An accidental glance at this morning's paper, where he briefly caught a sight of him, Hermione and Harry was enough to put him off. He didn't much fancy reading about himself.

"Hopefully we can just move through to the lifts before anyone notices who we are," he smiled down at her as they stepped out of the wards.

The Ministry, as noted with a sigh of relief, was mostly empty. Hermione and Ron, however, still walked surreptitiously towards the lift, hoping desperately to go unnoticed. They made their way up to the Department of Magical Transportation, which Ron noticed wasn't all too much different to the rest of the floors at the Ministry.

Hermione strode them purposefully towards the Portkey offices, and Ron was left to wonder how she could walk more quickly than he could, when his legs were twice the length of hers. He quickly refocused his attention, when Hermione knocked on a particular door. The plaque, as they were left to stare at as they awaited a response, read Elise Shacklebolt. The two shared a curious look, both concluding that this woman must be related to Kingsley. This appeased Ron. He had grown accustomed to being wary of people, but anyone related to Kingsley must be alright.

The door swung open, revealing a young woman, who quite sensically resembled Kingsley. "Mr Weasley, Miss Granger," she greeted them confidently, standing back at the door to allow them in.

"Good afternoon," Hermione replied, taking a seat in front of the quaint office desk. Ron sat beside her, wondering if Kingsley had ever mentioned having a sister before.

"Well, let's get right to it, shall we? I imagine you're itching to go." Elise walked behind her desk, sitting down and going through a file of papers.

"That would be lovely, thank you." Hermione began delving into her bag, pulling out another series of forms. "Is there anything else you need from us?"

Elise shook her head, "what's in here should be enough. Although, I must ask that we perform identification checks on you both before you take the Portkey." At the couple's bewildered expressions, Elise continued: "they've only recently been established, during the war, in fact. But of course, you two would have been far too busy to keep up-to-date with the Ministry's new technology," she said, impressed, as she quickly read through the papers that Hermione had passed over.

Hermione and Ron offered awkward chuckles, both wondering what Elise was doing in the war, if she seemed to know enough about it. "They won't take long, but if you will, follow me." She stood up, opening a door off to the side of her office.

The door opened to a long corridor, the walls, that were painted a deep green, lined with even more doors.

"While we're walking down here, I'll tell you what I've been parroting for weeks," Elise chuckled, "I'm indeed Kingsley's cousin. Why did I not participate in the war, you ask?"

Hermione blushed. "Oh no, we weren't thinking that-"

"It's alright," she waved off. "To be honest, I'd be completely sceptical of me. I lived in Spain for the first nineteen years of my life. My mother died in the first war, and it wrecked Uncle Kingsley. He vowed to look after me, but my nan, his mum, insisted that he pursue a career over here, as an Auror, while she looked after me instead. That was wonderful for years. Well, as wonderful as being kept in the dark about things you knew were going on could be. However, when this war rolled around, Kingsley insisted that my Nan and I stay back to look after each other. She fell a bit ill, you see."

"Oh! I'm so sorry to hear about your family," Hermione said, as they rushed to keep up with her.

"It's alright; Nan's better now. I was awfully torn at the time. I wanted to fight in the war, like my uncle, like my mum had. Especially after the stories I read in the Daily Prophet that I had shipped over. But… we're the only family Kingsley had after my mum, and it came to a point where I couldn't argue with him about it anymore. As much as it tore me apart to just sit back."

"Sounds like your nan needed you," offered Ron sympathetically, as they came to a half in front of one of the many doors.

Elise unlocked it with her wand, closing her eyes in concentration. "Thank you, that's very kind of you both to have such compassion, after the things I've heard about what you've each gone through."

They both shrugged bashedly, stepping into the small room.

"I'll just run your file through." Elise walked over to the small desk in the dark room, which was one of the only two things occupying it.

The other thing, the Portkey, was in the form of a pair of glasses, which hovered in the air and glowed with a blue-ish tint.

"So, after the war," Elise continued, running through another file. "And after Nan had gotten a bit better, I demanded that I come and help. Kingsley couldn't refuse, so he sent me straight into training here." She smiled with a sigh of completion, walking back over to Ron and Hermione. "I'll just run the ID tests now. Ladies first?" She motioned towards Hermione with her wand, and Hermione stepped forward.

Ron watched carefully. Obviously, he wanted to trust Elise; he knew the Ministry were as safe and secure as they had been in a while, but he just couldn't shake off the wariness and caution that he had adopted.

Elise waved her wand around Hermione, and although neither her nor Ron could tell anything had happened, Elise's smile became one of satisfaction.

"Brilliant. And, Ron?"

Ron stepped forward, too, undergoing the same weird-wand check as Hermione.

"Ah. Perfect. Sorry about all of the checks and files and stuff. We're being very cautious with the borders at the moment, trying to stop any remaining Death Eaters from escaping, as I'm sure you can understand. And I also hope I haven't talked your ears off, I just don't want people making up their own conclusions about where I was in the war," she chuckled nervously.

"It's fine," Hermione dismissed. "I must ask, is English your first language?"

Elise shook her head. "No, I read a lot of books written in English to learn. A lot," she re-emphasised.

Ron rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He didn't even have to look at Hermione to imagine the wild grin on her face.

"That's incredible!" she gushed, as Ron had much expected. "What-"

But before Hermione could finish her sentence, the Portkey flashed particularly brightly, signalling their queue to leave.

"Just in time," smiled Elise. "Now, I'm sure you're aware of your own itinerary, but just to remind you that the Australian Ministry is expecting you, so there shouldn't be any problems."

"Brilliant. Thank you, so much," said Hermione, taking Ron's hand. "Are you ready?" She looked up at him.

"Of course," he answered. "Cheers, Elise."

They both waved to the woman, before each grabbing onto the Portkey.

"Bloody hell," sighed Ron, steadying himself after landing. Portkeys, as great as they were, never left him without feeling queasy.

Hermione gasped as she took in their surroundings. She had known where they were going, of course: Charles de Gaulle, the airport in Paris. But it always took her by surprise at how large the airport was; she had been a number of times as a child.

"Right. Suppose we better get our walking shoes on," Ron joked, lifting a hand to shade his eyes as he, too, noticed the airport. They had landed in a field, quite a distance from the airport, where they would catch their next Portkey - quite ironically. "Merlin." Ron jumped back at the sound of an airplane leaving, "is it safe for them to be that close to us?!"

"Yes," laughed Hermione. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"In case it fell?" Ron answered incredulously.

Hermione laughed again. "And what about all of the people on the plane?"

"That'd be their fault for getting on the bloody death trap in the first place," he muttered as they began to walk towards the airport.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "you'll be getting on a plane one day, Ronald Weasley, I'll make sure of it."

He shuddered, knowing that Hermione kept her threats just as well as her promises.

"How many times have you been to Paris?" he asked, holding her hand.

She leaned into him slightly, recalling memories of her and her parents here. "Four," she sighed. "I miss it, we were closer then, despite how young I was." Hermione felt herself getting emotional, and decided it was far too early in the trip to become teary. "There's this bakery that I really love, not far from the Eiffel Tower. It was always the last place we'd go before catching a taxi to the airport, at the end of our holiday."

She smiled fondly at the memory, trying to pinpoint when, exactly, that close bond had slipped away between her and her parents.

"Once everything's sorted, you should come back here with them," Ron suggested.

She shrugged, "maybe." It was a lovely idea of him, but Hermione worried how long sorting 'everything' would take. "Elise was nice, wasn't she? It's sad to know that Kingsley lost someone from the first war, though."

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "It's actually kind of… comforting, in a way, to know that others are going through similar things. No, no," he back pedalled, "I didn't mean it's a good thing that people are going through-"

Hermione chuckled at him. "Don't worry. I know what you mean." And she did. So many terrible things had happened as a result of the war, that it was sometimes hard to remember to celebrate the end. Learning about others going through similar things proved, even though it was ultimately brilliant that the war had been won, that you didn't have to be jumping for joy about it everyday.

They reached the airport, and Hermione blamed the odd curious glance towards her and Ron on her paranoia. The Portkey that would send them to Tokyo, was to be found in a seemingly out-of-order toilet that had been efficiently locked and secured by the French Ministry.

She looked up at the large departures board to check the time, then peered up to look at Ron's face. For Heaven's sake! No wonder people were staring!

"Ron, I appreciate that you've never been to an airport before, but can you wipe that wondrous look off of your face before someone suspects something," she murmured to him.

"Sorry," he said, calming himself down.

"We should head over to the Portkey, it's already four o'clock." Hermione walked them towards the specific toilet they needed.

"Ah yes, the toilet," said Ron with a grimace, as they made their way through seemingly thousands of people.

"It's meant to be the safest; I'm sorry if you were expecting the utmost luxury on this trip," she snapped.

"Calm down, I was just making conversation," he retorted before he thought better of it.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, looking up at him with furrowed brows. "It is not the time for making conversation," she admonished, glancing up at the clock, before huffing away again.

Ron bit back the quip he was about to fire this time, instead walking quickly to catch up with her. He could hardly believe how south her mood had declined since just walking through the airport doors. They were fine; they weren't running late, they knew where they were going, and how to get there.

He sighed. He knew she was stressed about so much more than the Portkey, and he hated that he had to keep reminding himself not to react. Hermione had been there for him for weeks, it was his time to be there for her. He thought, with a chuckle to himself, that it was miraculous an Auror hadn't joined them, or gone with her alone. She was biting his head off, and she actually loved him. Merlin knows what she would've been like with someone else.

"What are you laughing at?" she turned and snapped, as if on queue.

"Nothing," he said, taking her hand and kissing her temple. "Come on, we've got a toilet to catch."

A few new cities and Portkeys later, and they had fortunately landed in Australia.

Between Portkeys, Hermione would ask Ron for the time, what felt like five times a minute. Eventually, he took his watch off, securing it around her own wrist instead. She had never been so thankful that his watch was magical, as it adapted to the different time zones without having to be manually changed.

10 o'clock, his watch read, on her wrist. She exhaled a large sigh of relief, scanning the room they had successfully reached.

"This is it?" asked Ron, bewilderedly. "What do we-"

"Ah! Here you are! Right on time, too. How was the trip? Managed to find the Portkeys easily enough?" A bright, young man burst through the door, startling Hermione out of her skin.

"Oh-it was great, thank you, Mr Robins?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Yep, that's me. Here to make sure you arrived all in one piece," he laughed. "Or… two pieces, from what I gather. I apologise, I thought you were coming alone, Miss Granger."

Ron shot a curious look at Hermione, who looked as confused as him. "Oh, no, Ron's here with me, too. That isn't a problem though, is it?" she added, assessing the, if she wasn't wrong, disappointed look on his face.

"Oh no, of course not. It's wonderful to meet you, Ron Weasley!" Ron was almost alarmed by how the man knew of his name, but then remembered that the three of them were probably rather well known all across the wizarding world, by now. "It's only that the hotel room we've booked you in just has one bed."

Hermione blushed, "oh, that's fine."

"Really? Because I'm sure we can book another room for your friend."

Ron looked at Mr Robins strangely. "No, that's okay," he answered, walking beside Hermione and wrapping an arm around her. "Unless you want a night off from my snoring," he chuckled to her, noting that jolly old Mr Robins took great interest in the arm around her.

Hermione looked at him sceptically, before smiling back at the other man. "One room will do, thank you."

"Of course, Miss Granger," he said, leading them through the Australian Ministry, which Ron was disappointed to note looked much the same as the British one, before apparating them to an alleyway. "Your hotel is just around here."

Ron, from what Hermione had informed him, knew they were staying in Darling Square - not that he had ever heard of it or been there, obviously.

The hotel was massive; Ron's mouth dropped open in shock. "We're staying here?" he muttered to Hermione, but Mr Robins heard him.

"Yes, we thought it would be safest to have you stay somewhere highly populated by Muggles, just in case anyone were to pull anything," he informed.

"Were there many of his followers here?" asked Hermione, biting her lip anxiously. There was no way they could've found her parents out here, surely.

"I'm afraid to say so, Miss Granger. Not as many as in the UK, for definite, but there are probably a few people here that wouldn't mind giving you both a piece of their minds," he chuckled nervously. "If you think it looks busy now, wait until the morning. The Ministry is always here for you, but it would be a good idea to have your wits about you during your stay."

Hermione nodded understandably, "thank you for bringing us here, we'll contact the Ministry if we need anything else."

"No worries. Have a wonderful trip," he smiled, but hardly looked at Ron as he bade goodbye.

"Right," sighed Hermione, "we better go check in before reception closes."

The interior was just as grand as the exterior, and Ron could only bet that they looked strange wandering in here; two young people, with no luggage save for Hermione's tiny handbag.

"Good evening," greeted the receptionist behind the desk. She wore a kind smile, although Ron could tell she was judging why him and Hermione were there.

"Hello, room booked for Hermione Granger?"

"Ah… yes. Do you have a form of identification?" she asked, her eyes flicking from Hermione to the computer screen.

Hermione nodded, reaching into her bag and pulling out the passports.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley," she nodded towards Ron. "Here are your room keys. Have a lovely stay!"

"Thank you very much," said Hermione scanning the area for a lift.

Once they had entered the lift, which Ron guessed was just as big as his own bedroom, he said, "she didn't look too convinced about us."

"No," agreed Hermione. "But it's already been paid for, so it wasn't as if she could turn us away."

After they had reached their floor, Hermione unlocked the door to their room, using only a plastic card that had Ron reminding himself of his father; watching curiously as she swiped it through a machine-thing.

They were both taken aback by their room, Hermione mumbling that 'she saw no point in having a room like this, they'd hardly be spending time in it,' but Ron found it brilliant.

After looking through the bedroom (which had a huge bed), bathroom and the kitchenette, they stepped out onto the balcony, which offered a beautiful view of the city. It was a bit breezy in the nighttime wind, so Ron stood behind Hermione and wrapped his arms around her.

She had been quiet all day, and when she did speak, Hermione seemed to only become more irritable the more he spoke back. So, Ron was thankful when she leaned back into him, lacing their fingers together.

"We're here," he said softly. "The view's brilliant, isn't it?"

She nodded against him absently.

"Tired?" he asked, rubbing her arms.

"I guess."

He paid no mind to her blunt replies, instead looked back into their hotel room.

"Should we try out that massive bed, then?" he asked, trying to coax her with levity.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, standoffish-ly as she stepped out of his hold.

Ron was a bit taken aback by her question, following her into the room. "Uhhh…. I suppose so, aren't you?"

She looked at him for a moment, and he was sure she was going to snap something else, before her expression softened, marginally. "I'm sorry, Ron. I think I've been a bit irritable all day, really."

"I'll say," he smirked, and she walked over to lightly nudge him in the shoulder.

"You better be joking for the sake of your health," she threatened, wrapping her arms around his torso.

He nodded enthusiastically, dipping his head down to kiss her. "We made it," she echoed his words from the balcony between kisses.

Ron nodded again, leaning in for another kiss, but Hermione's burst of excitement interrupted them and she quickly went to the other side of the room, opening up her beaded bag. "Oh, Ron, we must be so close to them! It's crazy to think, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he agreed, sitting beside her on the bed. "When do you want to.. you know.."

"As soon as possible! So, we need an early night. I feel horrible after moving from timezone to timezone." She sagged into his side.

She hadn't been this talkative all day, and Ron found that he had missed her, even though he hadn't been without her.

"Mm, we better find some dinner, then. We haven't eaten since lunch, you know."

"That's true. Should we order room service?" She reached over to the bedside table, retrieving the menu.

"You order," he said, kissing her forehead. "I reckon I need a shower."

"Well, I didn't want to say anything…" she smirked.

"I thought we valued our health around here?" he smirked back, leaning in to kiss her again.

"I'm really glad you came with me, Ron," she said seriously, kissing his nose. He smiled at her.

"Good, because I intend on making use of the paid-for room service."

The next morning, Hermione woke up to the sound of her alarm, unsurprised that Ron was still fast asleep.

She nudged him, knowing it took force to wake Ron up sometimes. "Ron, it's seven o'clock."

He groaned, his hands coming up to rub his eyes. "Too bright," came his groggy voice.

"We forgot to shut the curtains last night," she said, running her hand up and down his chest. "Come on, we need to go."

"Come'ere," he breathed, pulling her arm.

Shaking her head, she leaned down to kiss him. "Come on, Ron. This is definitely not the time for a lie-in."

"I know, I'll get up now. I just want a cuddle first."

She rolled her eyes good naturedly, although Ron couldn't see the action with his eyes closed. Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders, shivering as he ran his fingertips down her back.

"Don't tempt me, gorgeous," she said, kissing his ear. "We came here for a reason."

He nodded, albeit ruefully, "okay. Well, if you expect me to get up, you're gonna have to shift yourself."

Hermione sat straight up, "you-but- you asked me for a cuddle!" she spluttered.

Ron just grinned mischievously up at her, and she shook her head again.

"Insufferable," she exclaimed, forcing away a smile at the sound of his laugh.

Walking towards the balcony, Hermione sighed as she watched the view.

Somewhere out in the massive expanse, were her parents.