Chapter 59: The Wilkins
"Well, here we are."
Hermione and Draco stood in front of a small, almost picturesque white wooden beach house in Sydney, the hot February sun beating down on their faces. A soft breeze wafted over them, sending the small wooden sign above the door that read "Wilkins" swinging.
"So, we just...go knock on the door?" Draco asked, wiping his brow. "And they'll let us in?"
"This time, hopefully, yes," she replied, shading her eyes with her hand. "I convinced them the last time I was here that I was their niece and that I would come visit the next time I was in town." She wiped her palms on her shorts and started heading toward the front door.
"Well, what about me? Who am I supposed to be?"
Hermione stopped and looked back at him. "I don't know, a friend from university?" Draco shrugged in agreement. "Hold on, let me make sure..." she rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a small vial of sapphire-blue liquid. "Good," she said, relieved, moving the vial to the front pocket of the bag. "Well, let's go on then." Draco followed her up the path and waited, hands folded behind his back, as she knocked thrice on the door. A few moments later, a kind-looking, dark-haired woman opened the door, a tall blond man behind her.
"Oh...Amelia! Hello! What a surprise," the woman greeted them, opening the door wider. "Come in, come in... and...oh! Who's this?" She asked, looking at Draco.
"David," Draco said, extending his hand. "I'm a friend of Amelia's from university. Hope it's not too much trouble that I tagged along."
"No, no trouble at all!" The woman replied, shaking his hand. "I'm Amelia's Aunt Monica. Come in, you must be boiling out there!"
Draco smiled and crossed the threshold into the living room, cooled by the large fan placed in the corner. He greeted the blond man, who introduced himself as Uncle Wendell. Draco glanced sideways at Hermione, whose eyes looked pained above her forced smile. She looked rather pale. He tried to give her an encouraging look.
The four of them sat down in the living room on the Wilkins' shell-patterned couches. Mrs. Wilkins brought them tea and lemonade, and they discussed all that had happened since Amelia's last visit.
"Yes, I've been studying in Paris this term," Hermione said, one hand placed on her bag. "It's been lovely. The city is so beautiful."
"I've always wanted to go to Paris," Wendell said dreamily. "It seems so magical."
"Yes, well it was a trip to Paris or moving to Australia, and I think we're happy with our decision," Monica laughed. Draco shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He watched as Hermione slowly moved her hand away from her bag and curled it in her lap.
"...So David, you study photography?" Monica asked.
"Yes, yes," Draco replied, refocusing on the conversation. "It's always been a dream of mine. I absolutely love it."
"That's great, son," Wendell clapped Draco on the back. "Always important to follow your passion, eh?"
"Yeah...yeah..." He glanced over at Hermione again, who had moved her bag to the floor and was pushing it away with her foot.
"So, Aunt Monica, how's the florist business going?" She asked, pouring another glass of lemonade.
"Oh it's lovely dear..."
The afternoon passed in this manner, until it was around 6 and Hermione insisted that they had to leave to meet a friend. After thanking the Wilkins profusely, Draco and Hermione returned to the hotel they were staying in downtown by the beach. They sat down for dinner at the hotel restaurant at 7; Hermione ordered a burger and Draco ordered a club sandwich. After eating in silence for a few minutes, Hermione finally spoke.
"I know. I know, I know, I know," she said, almost panicked. "I was scared, okay?"
Draco, the unasked question still on his lips, where it had sat since they'd left the beach house earlier, sighed. "Yeah, I know."
"I just...they seemed so happy, you know? I don't want to shock them, or find out they want to stay, or..." she trailed off, dropping her head into her hands.
"It's okay, Granger," Draco said softly, leaning over to pull her hands away from her face. "I know, it's hard. But we talked about this, remember? It's going to be okay."
"You don't know that!" She snapped, leaning back and crossing her arms. "I just...I can't bear the thought of losing them...for good."
"You're not going to!" Draco said, half-exasperated. "We went over this."
"I need a drink," Hermione replied, pushing her chair back and storming off to the hotel bar. Draco watched her walk away, then slowly finished his sandwich. She needed space. He called over a waiter and paid for their meals before heading up to his room, which was adjacent to Hermione's. He laid on his bed for a while, flipping through channels on the television (which she had taught him how to use the previous night) waiting to hear the sound of her returning to her room. Three hours passed. Finally, with a sigh, he got up and headed down to the bar. Hermione was nowhere to be found. Upon asking the bartender if he had seen where she'd gone, Draco headed down to the beach. There, against the light of the moon above the water, he saw Hermione sitting in the sand by the water, the waves lapping at her legs, her head leaning against her knees. Cautiously, he walked over to her, hands in his pockets, and sat down. Hermione turned her head to look at him, her right cheek pressed against her right knee.
"You okay?"
Hermione shrugged.
"How much did you drink?"
"Only one cocktail," she replied, turning her head and looking away. "I hate the taste of alcohol."
Draco chuckled softly. "Are you tired?" Hermione nodded. "Shall we head back to the hotel?" She shook her head.
"Not yet. It's so nice out here," she looked up at the sky. Draco watched as tears filled her eyes and spilled out onto her cheeks. She slowly leaned to the left and buried her face in Draco's shoulder. Her body shook silently with sobs. Draco, a little taken aback and slightly uncomfortable, let her rest there for a few moments before gingerly wrapping his right arm around her shoulders.
"Everything will be okay," he said softly, gently patting her shoulder.
"I know," she mumbled into his sleeve. "I'm just not ready yet."
"How long do you think you'll need?"
"I don't know...a few more days, maybe."
Draco flinched. "Er, I don't think I can afford to pay for the room for another week, Granger."
She sighed and turned her head so she was facing the ocean again, her cheek still pressed into Draco's shoulder. "Do you...do you mind sharing my room for a few days? If it's not too much, I mean..."
Draco looked up at the sky. He knew it wasn't the best idea. But he knew he couldn't just leave her alone here. Especially now that he knew how truly alone she was. He took a deep breath and braced himself. "Okay, that's fine. I...I can handle that."
"Thank you," she whispered, staring out at the sea. "So much."
Draco awoke the next morning still tired from the night before. He had walked Hermione back to her room around midnight, making her promise that she would go straight to bed. He heard her watching TV for a few hours after that. After showering and getting dressed, he walked over to Hermione's room and knocked on it lightly first, then harder. She opened it, still wearing the clothes she'd been in the day before. "G'morning," she rasped, rubbing her eyes. She left the door open and flopped back onto her bed. Draco stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
"Come on, Granger, get up," he said, prodding her leg with his foot. "I didn't come all the way here to wait around while you sleep all day."
"Go to a club then." Her voice was muffled by her pillow.
Draco almost turned to leave, then stopped himself. "No, you need to do something other than think about your parents." He said firmly. "Come on- get up, take a shower, and get dressed. We're going exploring."
Hermione groaned and rolled over. "Fine," she said tiredly. "I'll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes."
Thirty minutes later, Draco watched as Hermione exited the elevator into the hotel lobby, carrying a large handbag and wearing a pair of rather dark sunglasses. "All right," she said once she reached the spot where Draco was standing. "Where to?"
"You don't have any preferences?" Draco asked, surprised.
"Well, of course I do, but you sounded as though you had a plan."
"No, I don't know anything about Sydney. Have you got a guidebook in that bag of yours? You know you can use an Undetectable Extension-"
"Yes, I've got one here," she said, pulling a large paperback book out of her bag and flipping through it. "Hmm...how about some of the museums?"
Draco mentally rolled his eyes. "Sure, if it'll make you feel better."
Hermione sniffed. "Look, you're the one who forced me to-"
"Yeah, yeah," Draco interrupted. "Let's go."
"Well, that certainly did not make me feel better," Hermione declared as she and Draco walked out of the Hyde Park Barracks Museum. "How could you treat anyone so horribly?"
"Eh, you get used to it," Draco said casually. "At least they didn't have to deal with dementors."
Hermione turned to Draco. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, I-"
"Ah, it's fine, no worries. I deserved it."
Hermione fell silent.
"How about we go find some of our crowd?" Draco said quickly, trying to prevent Hermione from falling into a spiral of guilt. "Do you know how we might get to the Underground?"
"No...but I have a feeling it's probably around here somewhere. Let's just wait and look around for a bit," Hermione said, putting her sunglasses back on. She began to walk toward the back of the museum, and Draco followed. Sure enough, after about a quarter of an hour they watched a pair of women disappear behind the storage buildings at the rear of the museum. "Here we go," Hermione whispered, walking slowly toward the buildings. "Let's just wait for someone else now." Ten minutes later an older man walked up to the back wall of one of the buildings and tapped his wand twice on the sign above the doorway marked "Building W Entrance." The door melted away, revealing an archway much like that at the entrance of Diagon Alley. Once the man walked through and the archway sealed up, Draco and Hermione hurried over. A couple of wand taps later, they stepped out into the Sydney Wizarding Underground, which was bustling with wizards in brightly colored, thin, flowing robes. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Hermione smile.
"Shall we get some lunch?" He asked, pointing to a restaurant a few blocks down the street. Hermione nodded, and they headed over. Once they were seated and their orders were taken, Draco decided to bring up a topic that had been nagging at him for the previous two weeks.
"So, Granger, if you don't mind me asking- what exactly happened with you and Weasley?"
Hermione almost choked on the water she had been sipping. "What?"
"What happened?" Draco repeated. "Why'd you break off the engagement?"
Hermione set her glass down. "You really want to know?" She asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Sure, why not?" Draco replied, leaning back in his chair. "That's the one thing you haven't really talked about."
She sighed. "Well, it's quite simply, really. I loved him, but not how..." she trailed off.
"Not how what?"
"Not in the way that you should love someone you're going to marry. He was my best friend, but if I'm honest never really anything more than that. I only ever said yes because...well because I felt as though I had to. To...please everyone else, you know?"
Draco nodded. "Yeah, yeah I do know."
"And I don't think he ever really understood that. And then I testified at your trial and now it's just a...a very messy situation."
"Well, good on you for speaking up," Draco declared, patting Hermione's hand. "At least now you won't be trapped in a marriage you don't like. Learn from my mother's mistakes, I always say." He smiled and raised his glass as Hermione let out a cautious laugh.
"Do you miss them?" Draco asked after a while, halfway through his pasta. "Weasley and Potter, I mean?" Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment.
"I used to," she began slowly, stabbing a tomato in her salad with a fork. "Terribly. But recently, I've just been angry at them. Surprisingly, I've been angrier at Harry, since he's just letting Ginny's opinion take over his. It's rather weak of him."
"No surprises there," Draco said half-jokingly. Hermione laughed, genuinely this time.
"I mean, he saved the Wizarding World and all, I know," she said with a smile. "But when it comes to women, he's an absolute coward. Do you know how long it took him to find a date for the Yule Ball...?
Draco laughed.
That night, Draco packed up his belongings and moved them into Hermione's room, which was strewn with clothes and books.
"I thought you'd be more organized," Draco grumbled as he stepped over five pairs of her shoes to reach his sofa bed.
"Yes, everyone assumes that," Hermione said, tying her hair up into a ponytail. "But I'm terribly messy."
"Well, this will be fun, then" Draco said with a smirk. Hermione stared at him. "What?"
"You still do that!" Hermione exclaimed. "I never thought I'd see you smirk again!" Draco rolled his eyes and began putting a bed sheet over the sofa cushions. Half an hour later he was lying in bed, waiting for Hermione to turn of the bloody television.
"Come on, Granger, I'm tired!" He said, rolling over so his back was to the flashing screen.
"Oh, hush," she said, turning up the volume. "The programme's almost over anyway." Draco groaned and tried to fall asleep to the sound of some historical documentary. He woke up six hours later to the sound of the shower running and Hermione singing. He rolled over and pressed his pillow against his ears. Ten minutes later, Hermione walked into the room, fully dressed and ready for the day, a smile on her face. Draco squinted at her and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"Well, you're certainly in a better mood," he said groggily.
Hermione ignored him. "I'm getting breakfast. If you get ready in the next ten minutes, you're welcome to join me," she said, wiping her hair with a fluffy white towel. Draco dragged himself out of bed and grabbed some clothes from his suitcase before heading into the shower. As he stood under the stream of ice-cold water, he tried to push down the confusing feelings he'd been having since the previous night. Spending the whole day with Hermione had been...nice. Almost familiar. Almost like before, if he was even remembering any of it correctly, that was. He tried again to shake off the feelings as he shaved and got dressed.
"Okay, so what's the plan?" He asked as he walked out of the bathroom. "Where to?"
"You'll see," she said evasively.
"Seriously?" Draco asked tiredly.
"Yes," Hermione said mischievously. "Because I know how much you love surprises." Draco scowled.
A bus ride and an hour wait later, Draco found himself strapped into a red plastic cart, gripping a rubbery handrail for dear life. "Granger...Granger I don't like this!" He cried out as the cart began to climb the rickety track to which it was attached.
"Well, get over it!" She replied with a grin. "This isn't even the best part..."
"What?!" Draco yelled. "What do you-"
And then suddenly the cart was rushing to the ground, then looping back up and around in a full circle, back up and down and up and down and down and down until, finally, the cart rumbled to a stop. Draco sat there, frozen. Hermione laughed delightedly at Draco's shocked expression.
"And that was your first roller coaster!" She said excitedly. "Let's go again!"
"No. No, no, no, no, no!" Draco said, scrambling out of the cart and walking briskly away from the ride.
"What? It's just like riding a broom!" Hermione said once she'd got up to him.
"Yes," Draco hissed. "But a bloody Muggle isn't controlling a broom when I'm riding it!"
Hermione laughed again. "Come off it, you loved it," she said, punching him lightly in the arm. Draco flinched, but she didn't seem to notice.
"No, I really, really, hated it," he repeated. Hermione ignored him. He rode six more roller coasters that day. By the time they left the amusement park, he could no longer walk in a straight line. Hermione had to hold his arm to walk him back to the bus stop and then to the hotel room.
"I'm going to go swimming," Hermione declared after they'd eaten dinner, or in Draco's case, as much food as he could stomach without feeling nauseous. "Do you want to come?"
Draco shook his head. "I really don't think I can."
"Suit yourself," Hermione shrugged before leaving, a large white towel in hand.
Once she was gone, Draco changed into his pajamas and turned on the TV before settling into bed. He'd watched about half an hour of a show about some Muggles in New York City before he noticed a tiny black notebook lying on the dresser beside the television set. A sense of panic filled Draco, and for a few minutes he was paralyzed with fear. Then, he got up and picked it up off the dresser. He sat back down on his bed and, with shaking fingers, opened its leathery cover. He began to read. Dates and memories washed over him, his eyes moving back and forth rapidly across the worn out pages. And everything came rushing back. Not the bad parts, not the terrible things he'd done. It was the feelings he had, the friend he'd made, the girl he'd pined over for so many months. As he read Hermione's letter from the night of the battle, he remembered why the past two days had felt so familiar. He'd been with the person who'd brought him happiness in the depths of his despair. He'd been with Hermione Granger.
Draco woke to the sound of screaming. In the dim light of the early morning, he jerked awake, slumped against the arm of the couch, the black notebook dangling from his fingertips. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he made out a towel and a pile of crumpled up clothes on the floor and Hermione's body thrashing in the bed, struggling against the white linen sheets. Draco slowly pushed himself up and approached her cautiously. From what little light was filtering through the curtains, he saw her face, covered in a sheen of sweat and crumpled in pain. She had stopped screaming, but her left arm was twitching violently. Draco watched her for a minute, unsure of what to do.
"Let...let me go!" She cried out, jerking her arm upward and then letting it fall back to her side. Draco's face drained of color. He hated re-living this scene, and he hated it even more that she had to re-live it too. Quiety, he sat down next to her and peered into her face for a moment more, debating whether or not waking her would shock her. He flinched as she let out another scream. A beat of silence passed, and she began to sob. As gently as he could, Draco began to brush her sweaty, matted hair out of her face and wipe away her tears with his thumbs. She began to shiver, tears continuing to stream down her face.
"I'm so sorry," Draco whispered. Hermione rolled over in her sleep and wrapped her arm around Draco's waist. Twenty minutes later, she was fast asleep. Draco sat there, leaning against the headboard, stroking her hair.
Hours later, when he noticed she was waking up, he leapt out of the bed and began picking up clothes off the floor and shoving them into the dresser. Hermione yawned at squinted at him, struggling to open her eyes in the bright morning light. "Good morning," she said sleepily, running her fingers through her hair. "Did I wake you last night?"
"No, no," Draco said quickly. "I was out like a light." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, he thought he saw her looking at the impression he had left in the mattress, but decided that she was just looking out the window, her head resting on her arms.
"We should go to the beach today," she mumbled, rolling over and pushing herself up. "We haven't been in the daytime yet."
"Sure," Draco said, trying to sound relaxed. In reality, his heart was racing; he felt incredibly panicked. Suddenly, he wanted to get as far away from her as possible, afraid of saying something he shouldn't.
After a late breakfast, Hermione led Draco down to the same beach from their first night in Sydney. It was even more beautiful during the day. The ocean, a sparkling, cool, aqua, spread out as far as the eye could see, edged by the softest and most pristine golden sand either of them had ever seen. Hermione set down the large handbag she'd brought with her and pulled out two fluffy white beach towels and a book.
"Well, what am I supposed to do if you're reading?! Draco exclaimed.
Hermione peered at him over her sunglasses. "You're an adult," she replied. "Go swimming or something."
Annoyed, Draco yanked off his t-shirt and stomped off to the water. He dove into the glittering ocean, letting the refreshingly cold water envelop him. After floating around for a bit, trying to keep his mind away from a certain someone, he cast an Impervius Charm on his face and flipped over to watch the colorful fish swim between the static yet vibrant coral that lined the ocean floor. A bright blue fish darted just past Draco's nose, and he watched as it swam into a hole at the base of a particularly tall piece of the reef. A school of tiny silver fish swam directly beneath him, and he smiled as he watched the smallest of them move to the front of the group and take the lead. When they passed, he noticed a pair of rainbowfish bobbing by, their scales glittering red and green. Draco quickly rolled back over. Enough swimming for now, he thought as he swam back to shore.
Once back on land, he trudged over to where Hermione sat, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him. He flopped down onto the second beach towel, covering his face with his arm.
"Took you long enough," Hermione quipped. "I've finished my novel." Draco groaned and turned to face away from her.
After he dried off, Hermione forced Draco to get up and help her pack up the bag. They left the beach and bought lemon ices from a stall on the boardwalk. They wandered along for a while popping in and out of shops, until Hermione decided she wanted to go back to the beach.
"I want to see the view from up there," she said, pointing to a large pile of rocks at the edge of the beach.
"I'm sure it's the same as the view from down here, Granger," Draco said tiredly.
"Come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "What, you have other plans?"
"Fine," Draco said with a scowl, following her down the beach.
"You go first," Hermione said when they reached the rocks. Draco, unable to think of an excuse not to, began climbing the rocks, pointing out the footholds as Hermione followed behind him.
"Don't drop the bag!" He warned as they climbed higher. "Albert really wants that snow globe!"
"Oh, shut up," Hermione retorted. They were nearing the top. "Help me up," she demanded, holding out her left hand. Draco grabbed it and pulled her upward. When they were both firmly standing atop the rock pile, Draco loosened his grip on Hermione's hand, but she did not let go. He felt his heart rate quicken. They stared out at the ocean for a few minutes before Hermione sighed.
"I think I'm ready," she said, her voice quivering slightly.
Draco turned to her, surprised. "Yeah?"
"Yes. I'm ready." They stood there for another half an hour, watching as the sun slowly began to descend over the horizon. Draco could hear Hermione breathing in and out measuredly beside him. Finally, when the sky was fully pink, they began the descent down to the beach and back to the hotel. She didn't let go of his hand the entire time. That night, they ordered room service and watched a film about a group of American boys in boarding school and their English teacher. Hermione fell asleep in Draco's arms.
The next morning, Draco and Hermione found themselves in front of the Wilkins's house once again. Hermione was holding her bag close to her chest, her hand placed carefully over the outline of the vial in the front pocket. Draco knocked on the door.
"Amelia! How lovely to see you again," Wendell greeted them this time, opening the door wide. "Monica! Amelia and her friend are here again," he smiled warmly and Draco and Hermione.
"Oh, how wonderful," Monica said, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached the front door. "I was just making some tea. Come in, come in." Soon, they were seated on the shell-patterned couches again.
"So I take it you're heading back to Paris soon?" Wendell asked, pouring them tea.
"Yes, tomorrow," Hermione said, her left leg bouncing slightly. "I just thought we should pop by before we left."
"Of course!" Monica said, passing Draco a jar of jam. "You're always welcome here. Would you like any scones? I made them yesterday, so unfortunately they're not fresh, so I'll have to heat them up-"
"Yes, scones sound lovely," Hermione said quickly. Monica stood up and bustled off to the kitchen. Now it was Draco's turn.
"Er, Mr. Wilkins, Amelia mentioned that you have quite a lovely garden- d'you mind showing me?" He asked nervously.
Wendell looked surprised. "Why, yes, we do- are you interested in gardening?"
"Uh, yeah," Draco said slowly. "I'm curious to see what you can grow in this climate. Y'know, in case I ever move away from France one day."
"Ah, lovely," Wendell said, slapping his knees and standing up. "Well, follow me then." He opened the French doors into the backyard. Draco followed, looking back over his shoulder to make sure that Hermione was pouring the potion into the Wilkins's cups. She smiled weakly at him when the job was done.
"David?" Wendell called from the backyard.
"Coming!" Draco called back, leaving Hermione alone in the living room.
After a brief yet thorough exploration of the Wilkins's beachside garden, Draco and Wendell returned to the living room just as Monica was setting a tray of warm scones on the table. Draco returned to his seat next to Hermione, and she grabbed his right hand, pulling it beneath her left knee. She grabbed a scone, and Draco noticed her hand was shaking, her eyes laser-focused on the cups of tea across the table from her. Her eyes followed as the Wilkins picked up their cups and each took a sip.
"Hmm, this tastes..." Wendell smacked his lips. "Monica, what's in this?"
A worried look spread across Monica's face. "You're right. I don't...know..." her voice faded out, and her eyes seemed to glaze over. For a moment, she and Wendell both seemed frozen. And then, as if waking up from a deep sleep, they both seemed to shake themselves awake. Monica's eyes, once restored to their normal state, focused on the woman opposite her, and then her whole face crumpled.
"Hermione..." she whispered. "Hermione!"
Hermione's face split into a grin, and her eyes filled with tears. "Mum...Dad..."
"Darling..." Mr. Granger reached across the table to hold Hermione's hand. Draco, keenly aware of how the scene was about to unfold, gently let go of Hermione's hand and slowly got up off of the couch. None of the Grangers noticed. Draco walked quietly to the front door, the sounds of a long-awaited reunion echoing in the living room. When the door was shut behind him, he headed back to the hotel, packed his belongings, and, with a heavy and broken heart, returned to Paris.