Uneasy silence had crept into the evening like a virus. The letter received, the letter sent, the best friend, the betrayal, the lie… these things had been building up like a house of cards getting ready to collapse. Harry and Hermione had been existing together in a state of delusional happiness. The euphoria that had been carrying them for the last few days wasn't enough to drown out the truths that lingered like ghosts.
Life had been paused. They were behaving like a young couple on holiday, readily enjoying all the things that love in North Berwick had to offer, but blatantly avoiding the trials that lie ahead and those left behind.
The walk back to the cottage had been tense. Harry's shirt clung to his back as sweat beaded at the nape of his neck. It was humid for August and the air held thick inside as they entered the cottage. Outside permeating inside, a metaphor perhaps.
It seemed mechanical, Harry retreating to the kitchen to fetch water, Hermione to the bedroom to change the shirt that had been sticking against her midsection. She emerged to find Harry perched on the edge of an armchair his head resting in his hands rubbing his temples in slow circles. Hermione collapsed opposite him into the oversized armchair and reached for the glass that had been floating aimlessly searching for an owner. She curled her legs up underneath her and took a long, slow sip, the liquid sliding down her dry throat.
Uneasy silence.
Hermione finally spoke, the melodic hum of her voice tentative. "Harry…"
"I know you wrote to him," Harry interrupted suddenly repeating what had been said only moments earlier.
Hermione bit her bottom lip nodding slowly, "I did."
"I know he wrote to you," he continued raising his eyes to meet hers.
"Do you want to read it?" Hermione asked nervously.
"Not really…" Harry leaned back crossing his long arms behind his head.
"Do you want me to tell you what it says?"
"I think I can guess the general contents."
Hermione sighed, "Well then I'm not sure what you want me to say."
"You don't have to say anything," he shot back defensively.
"Well than what do you want me to do? Apologize?"
Harry leaned forward shaking his head. "That's not what I'm saying, I just… I don't want to do this. I can't have this conversation."
"Well, we're going to have to eventually." Hermione blurted matter-of-factly and she stood up and left the room in a huff.
Uneasy silence.
Hermione trudged down to the water as the retreating tide pulled at the sand around her ankles. The icy saltwater felt refreshing, a stark contrast against her sticky skin. She took a deep breath and kicked at the water with her toes. She felt like she was being smothered. They had been dancing around the topic of Ron for days. The last week had been a dream, but it wasn't real, it was brief reprieve from the before and a delusional pause before the after. She was in the now. Existing in love with a boy who she had known for almost half of her life, but absent the people who had raised her, and the family that had taken their place.
She felt Harry before had seen him and as he paused feet behind her.
"You won't talk to me," she murmured. It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"I can't-"
"No, you won't," Hermione interrupted him firmly.
"Okay fine," Harry shrugged, "You're right. I don't want to talk about Ron. I don't want to read a letter he wrote to you confessing his undying love. I don't want to know what you said back to him. I don't want to think about what's going to happen when we leave here because thinking about anything that comes next makes me physically ill. I am riddled with anxiety day in and day out because you don't know what you're going to do."
Hermione's heart was pounding in her ears as she listened.
The words kept coming and Harry pulled out a piece of brown parchment from his back pocket and thrust it into Hermione's hands in exasperation. "You want to talk about the future… okay let's do it. Two days ago I received post from Hogwarts inviting us back for a seventh year."
Hermione's eyes scanned the letter hungrily her mouth slightly ajar.
To Ms. Hermione Jean Granger,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been invited to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for a seventh year. If you choose to accept we would be pleased to offer you the position of Head Girl. Enclosed, please find a list of necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September the 1st. We await your owl no later than the 20th of August.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
She looked up at Harry after a minute. "You hid this."
Harry's avoided her eyes as he chewed his lip.
She dropped the letter to her side placing a hand on her forehead as her eyes welled up with tears. "Fuck," she whispered under her breath. Harry could count on one hand the amount of times he had heard Hermione use that word and his stomach churned. "I can't think about this right now," she shook her head and turned to look at Harry, eyes shining.
Harry nodded slowly and opened his mouth to reply, but closed it just as quickly as silent tears streamed down Hermione's cheeks. Instead he stepped forward and held out his open arms and she fell into his embrace automatically. "I think its time to go," he murmured softly into her hair.
Uneasy silence.
International apparition was not an easy thing to do. Harry was entirely clueless and although Hermione had done quite a bit of reading on the subject, she was not confident that she had grasped the theory well enough to put into practice and neither of them were particularly eager to lose any limbs in the process. They discussed flying and even considered muggle transport, but ultimately decided the best way to get to Gold Coast would be to go through The International Federation of Portkey Travel for Witches and Wizards. Hermione had first heard about this from Fleur, who had been droning on and on to Ginny at the masked ball about how she and Bill had to travel by trashcan earlier in the summer when they had visited Australia on holiday.
It was no surprise through a useful brochure in the Tonk's family cottage that she had found a branch of the IFPTW in Inverness, which was a four hour car ride from North Berwick, but merely a few seconds of apparition for Harry and Hermione.
They awoke from a restless night of sleep, packed quickly, and skipped breakfast. Neither of them had much of an appetite and the impending portkey travel always made Harry's stomach a little queasy. The day felt eerily reminiscent of mornings in the woods, where they existed with each other in deafening silence and awkward movement. The tension from last night still weighed heavily between them. Harry was tired and Hermione was annoyed, and neither of them were trying to hide this from one another. At half past eight, with Harry's rucksack slung over one shoulder and Hermione's beaded bag clutched tightly in hand they thread their fingers together and vanished from the foggy shore.
They reappeared on a hill just outside of the city and Hermione didn't even wait for Harry to find his footing before she began the brisk walk into town. He followed dutifully trying to match his stride with hers.
"The office is located at the Inverness Town House," she said flatly not meeting Harry's gaze. "It's a historic sight that houses their muggle town offices. We're supposed to ask for somebody named Adair at the second window on the left."
"Do you have the cross streets?" Harry asked.
"High Street and Castle."
He looked around, pulled out his wand, and murmured quietly under his breath, "Point me." He felt a magnetic pull glide up his right arm and they began their trek through the city streets. As they reached a central street the foot traffic busied and Harry slid his wand up the sleeve of his shirt. The last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves from both muggle and magic folk alike.
They found the building quickly. It was hard to miss as it looked more like a palace than a town office, and they entered through a set of large red doors that Harry struggled to open. The sound of the brown shoes that Andromeda had bought for him echoed loudly against the marble floor as he self-consciously tried to quiet his steps. He missed his rubber trainers and made a mental note to replace them.
They sidled up to a gold rimmed window where a stout woman sat shuffling papers.
Hermione waited a moment and then cleared her throat. "Umm, good morning, we were told to ask for a woman named Adair? Is that you perhaps?"
"Do I look like an Adair to you?" The woman replied flatly in a heavy Scottish brogue.
"Uh, sorry… no-"
"ADAIR!" the woman bellowed out and Hermione lurched back from the counter.
Moments later a door behind them swung open and a small man with a mop of orange hair and a thick bristled mustache poked his head out eagerly and grinned waving the two of them inside.
Both Harry and Hermione had to duck as they entered the small office as the door frame could not have been more than four feet tall. The little man waddled in front of them and Harry was immediately reminded of the goblins that worked at Gringotts, the only difference being that Adair looked far less cunning.
"Oh my, my, my," he wheezed out in a brogue, "it is so lovely to have magical visitors, I can't even begin to tell you how dreadful working with muggles all day can be. Especially that Fiona, screams like the Bandon Banshee!" He hoisted himself up into a worn leather swivel chair his legs dangling off the ground like a child. "Now welcome to the IFPTW! Also known as the International Federation of Portkey Travel for Witches and Wizards! My name is Adair and how may I be of service to you today Mister and Misses…?" He paused waiting for an answer.
"Dursley," Hermione piped before Harry could answer. "I'm Marge and this is my brother Vernon."
Booking a portkey to Brisbane had been surprisingly easy. Adair had lamented to them several times that most witches and wizards frequented the Glasgow and Edinburgh IFPTW offices and that he had been trying to get transferred to either for quite a time.
Hermione looked down at the parchment in her hand as they exited the town house the large doors clanging behind them. "This says we're supposed to report to the bank of River Ness at 12:00pm where we should look for a can sitting on a park bench."
"I just have one thing to say…" Harry murmured breaking her concentration and Hermione stopped in front of him turning around. "Vernon Dursley? That's the best you could do? Marge and Vernon Dursley?"
Hermione couldn't help the hysterics that escaped her throat as the tension that had been tight in her chest the entire morning melted away. "I'm sorry! I panicked. I figured you didn't want to deal with the onslaught of 'you're Harry Potter' and it was the first name that popped into my head!"
"Vernon Dursley!" Harry roared in mock anger and Hermione doubled over giggling even harder than before.
They fell into a fit of laughter in front of the town office as passers looked on with furrowed brows, one sour faced man making a dramatic spectacle of having to move out of the way as Harry wheezed hands on knees. They came to minutes later and Hermione wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes with one hand gripping the iron fence to help stay erect.
They smiled at each other both struggling to catch their breath.
"Hi," Harry said.
"Hi," Hermione whispered back almost inaudibly.
He took a step forward brushing a stray curl from her cheek and she melted into his calloused fingers.
"I love you," he spoke softly, "I know we have a lot of stuff to figure out, but all of that stuff can wait."
Hermione's eyes widened and she was about to protest, but Harry gently shook his head.
"It can wait," he persisted, "let's focus on finding your parents."
"I know, but-"
"Hermione." Harry firmly placed both his hands on her neck bringing her eyeline to his own. "When you left the burrow with me last year there were loads of things we didn't know. And right now, there are loads of things we don't know. Let's focus on the things we do know. We're going to Australia to find your parents. Let's just take one step at a time and we'll figure out the rest as we go."
Hermione gave him a small smile, "I like to have a plan."
"I know," Harry nodded bringing her forehead to his own, "but some things you can't plan." He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers and her hands enveloped tightly around his waist. She kissed him back firmly wishing she could convey to Harry through her lips how much she needed and appreciated him in this moment.
"Together?" he pulled away snaking his arm around her shoulder as Hermione leaned her head into the nape of his neck.
"Always," she replied, and they departed wrapped around each other like vines.
They did not see the tall man with red hair pulled back in a ponytail standing across the street.
They did not see his wide eyes boring into them, his left marred by three thick scars.
They did not see the familiar fanged earing dangling from his right ear.
They did not see his mouth hanging open slightly.
They did not see Bill Weasley.
But Bill Weasley did see them.