The Gold Coast was unlike anything Harry and Hermione had ever seen. The portkey had dropped them in Burleigh Heads, a suburb within the greater city, and they had landed ankle deep along the white sand beach. The Coral Sea stretched out before them, waves crashing against the shore drowning out the noise from the city. The buildings of Gold Coast jutted up from the landscape like sunflowers, the great concrete monoliths penetrating the night sky with dark shadow and twinkling lights.

They slogged towards James Street, located in the North Eastern suburb where they checked into a small non-magical bed and breakfast that Adair had referred them to. The woman at check in was kind, but visibly soured once she saw the water pooling at their feet. They probably should have used a hot air charm, but the portkey had left them rattled and they were desperate for a lie down and a hot meal.

They were good at this. Traveling, exploring, settling themselves in unknown surroundings. Neither of them had felt the stability of a home in such a long time that sleeping and staying in different places had become a source of comfort. There was an excitement that came with strange beds, new horizons, and purpose driven missions that carried them forward. With all of the unknown dangling before them, in this moment they knew what they were doing. They were here to find something and solve a problem. They were here to find Hermione's parents and try to restore their memories.

Wendell and Monica Wilkins were not easy to find. Hermione had erased herself and their identities from their minds before leaving a year prior. She had replaced the Granger's past with the vague ambition of a married couple, with no children, who's lifelong dream it had been to move to Australia. The only reason she even suspected that they were in or around the Gold Coast was the television program they had been watching when she had cast the spell.

Hermione had started locally, asking the owner of the bed and breakfast if she knew of anybody by the name of Wilkins or any British dentists that had moved to Gold Coast recently. This was a shot in the dark and the next day they began trekking to dentist's offices around the city complaining of tooth pain until they were able to confirm their identities. They spent their days searching and their nights losing themselves in one another. By the fifth evening Hermione's moral had substantially lowered. She sat at the desk, her head bowed low over her tenth telephone directory turning the pages slowly, eyes pouring over the print that had begun to swim on the page.

Harry entered the room, the door swinging shut gently behind him, his fingers prodding at the side of his jaw. "Well, I can confirm The White Bite is not a dental office run by Wendell or Monica Wilkins, but is staffed by a very persistent gentleman named Dr. Kramer, who insisted that I have my molars inspected for rot."

Hermione looked up from the table her eyes tired, but smiled, "And?"

"Turns out my teeth are not rotting," Harry fell backwards onto the bed, "but my jaw feels like its been chewing Hagrid's treacle fudge. How's it going?" he motioned towards the thick yellow books sprawled out around her.

Hermione sighed turning her attention back to the print in front of her, "Andrew Wilkins, Allison Wilkins, Annabelle Wilkins… who knew Wilkins was such a popular name."

Harry patted the bed and she stood climbing onto the mattress and he turned to face her. "I'm guessing you did, which is why you chose it… so they would be hard to find."

"They are proving to be just that."

Harry pulled her in for a gentle kiss and she melted against his lips sighing into his mouth.

"Can we take the night off?" she said weakly.

"Of course," Harry nodded, "is there anything you want to do?"

"Get pissed?" she said catching Harry by surprise and he began to laugh.

"I think that can be arranged."

They ended up on the beach where they had apparated days earlier, the sun low in the sky, the orange glow setting the water on fire. Harry had discarded his shoes and rolled his pants to his shins, Hermione in a casual summer dress that fell just above her knees. He sat arms resting on the sand behind him, as she walked the shoreline a few meters away, a half empty bottle of cheap wine dangling in her left hand. She was moving differently, her arms looser, legs slightly wobbly as she flowed with the tide. The liquor had disarmed the tension and Harry watched her, his gaze intense as the breeze blew her curls lazily across the front of her face. She turned, eyes glassy, an impish smile pulling at the corners of her mouth and she beckoned to him with her free hand.

Harry stumbled towards her his legs heavy. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and caught her open mouth kissing her suddenly. She immediately responded dropping the bottle in the sand and belted her arms around his neck pulling him deeper into her mouth. They broke apart laughing as Harry picked her up over his shoulder and began to spin her around running them deeper into the ocean waves crashing around them. He dunked them both under the surface and she emerged yelping with a shocked smile, "Harry!"

It was his laughter that caught her most by surprise. He let her go and fell backwards into the water arms splayed behind him. His eyes were closed and his body convulsed with deep racking guffaws. He lifted his head, glasses gone, green eyes bright against the twilight sky.

The words that left her lips next came without hesitation. "I could marry you right now."

Harry pulled himself up out of the sea, water beading down the front of his nose. He stared at her wide eyed with earnest abandon. He couldn't muster words to respond and so he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with everything that he had.

The walk back to the bed and breakfast was messy. They were barefoot, soaking wet, and gloriously happy. Unable to untangle themselves from one another Hermione held a hand over her mouth as Harry whispered about what Helen at the front desk would do when she saw them this time. She had to stop to catch her breath and leaned against a lamppost outside a small restaurant her eyes streaming. She was about to respond to Harry when something in the window caught her eye.

A fair skinned woman in her early forties sat at a sweetheart table towards the back of the restaurant. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and her wrinkle lines were prominent as she laughed. The gentleman across from her had light copper hair and a kind round face and he held her hand on top of the table talking animatedly. He stood pulling out the woman's chair and she rose up with difficulty her belly swollen and round and she smiled up at the man as he placed a hand on her stomach to steady her.

"Hermione?" Harry asked looking at her concernedly. "What is it?"

She had gone very pale and as she spoke her voice cracked, "Mum…? Dad…?"

Harry's head whipped around. He had met her parents before, but wouldn't have been able to pick them out of a crowd. His eyes scanned William and Jean Granger and widened when he saw her bulging belly. They had been looking for nearly a week and here they were standing on a lamplit street staring at them like strangers through a window.

"Harry." A deep familiar voice from behind startled them and they spun around. Harry's stomach immediately dropped and a level of dread he had not been expecting crashed over him like a tidal wave. Bill Weasley was standing behind them engulfed in shadow his blue wolfish eyes boring holes into the two of them.

It was almost like a comedy. Harry barefoot, sopping wet, dress shoes in hand. Hermione plastered against the lamppost, her thin dress clinging to her slender frame, eyes panicked as she looked from Harry, to Bill, to her pregnant mother and father as they exited the restaurant. Bill, his long wiry arms crossed tightly over a black button up, fang earring glinting off the streetlights. William and Jean Granger, who were known to themselves as Wendell and Monica Wilkins, stepping out into the street glancing over at the three young people standing and watching them. Mr. Granger tipped his hat nodding at them wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders.

Hermione stared open mouthed as her eyes raked over her parents retreating figures. The way her father walked, the way her mother slid her hand into his back pocket like she had when they would go to the theatre on Shaftesbury Avenue.

"Wait!" she called out in an alarmed panic and the Granger's turned abruptly. For a minute Hermione wondered if they would recognize her, but then… nothing. Her parents gazed at her with confused concern, but only the way anybody who heard a teenage girl calling out to them would. The lack of recognition nearly knocked her flat and she paused worrying that if she opened her mouth she would break into a sob.

"Sorry," Harry called out nervously stepping forward drawing the Granger's attention away from Hermione, "this is a strange question I know, but… we're visiting from the UK and well, I seem to have cracked a tooth. I'm wondering if you happen to know of any local dentists that you might be able to refer me to? I've tried to get in to see a few around the city, but I haven't had much luck."

Mr. Granger let out a low chuckle, "Well, it just so happens that I am a dentist!" He turned to his wife. "We both are actually."

Harry laughed a little too loudly, his voice an octave too high. "You're joking! Brilliant!"

Mr. Granger motioned, "I'm Wendell, and this is my wife, Monica. We own a small practice thirty minutes north of here in Coomera." He pulled out his wallet and produced a small business card holding it out to Harry. "Give my office a call tomorrow morning and we should be able to get you in sometime before the end of the week Mister…"

"Potter," Harry hesitated as if he was expecting them to remember his name, "Harry Potter." And he held out his hand trying to soften his bewildered expression.

They shook hands briefly and before the three of them knew it they were watching the Granger's retreat into the night.

Hermione's legs seemed to give out and she slid down the post her feet curled up underneath her. A soft whimper escaped her lips and Harry dropped his shoes and fell into a crouch beside her enveloping her in a tight embrace. He pressed his lips to her head and placed both hands on her cheeks. "Hermione," he whispered into her hair, "we found them. We found them." He forced her watery eyes to meet his own and he couldn't help the tipsy smile that broke across his face, "You're going to be a big sister."

To say Bill Weasley was confused was an understatement. He had chosen the IFPTW office in Inverness on a whim as the London offices were terribly slow. He had headed home to visit his parents and was returning to Fleur who had chosen to remain in Australia where they had been staying on holiday. And that's when he saw them. Harry and Hermione. Laughing. Then kissing. Embracing. Flirting. Walking down the sidewalk hand in hand. He would have confronted them immediately, but was so baffled that all he could do was stare.

It didn't make sense to him. Harry and Hermione together. He had seen the three of them at Shell Cottage and all signs had pointed to Ron and Hermione. There was a clear distance between Harry and the two of them and Bill had only assumed it was the blossoming of a romantic relationship. But then he remembered… the glances at the dinner table, the slightly too long embrace at the Hogwarts ball, little clues that had begun sprouting like weeds.

It wasn't hard to figure out where they were going. Adair was chatty and Bill was charming. He had been shocked to find out that they were headed to Australia and recognized the name Dursley as the muggle family that Harry had lived with. He contemplated going straight to Ron and Ginny, but decided against it when he recalled how fragile they had seemed.

Magic left trails and Bill was a curse breaker. It took him only a few days to find them and he had been contemplating how he would confront the two of them. He would catch them and they would immediately pretend they had no idea what he was talking about. He would yell at them about how he had seen them in Scotland, seen them getting drunk by the water, watching them devour each other without a care in the world. He had expected them to deny, to hide and deflect, but here they were, embracing in front of him, snogging, talking to strange couples about cracked teeth. None of this made any sense and he couldn't help the roar of anger that escaped him.

Harry had managed to subdue Bill into letting him take Hermione back to the bed and breakfast. Hermione was in a state. From running into Bill, to not only finding her parents, but learning that they were expecting, she had begun to quiver.

"I need to talk to you both," Bill declared from behind them sternly as they approached the bed and breakfast. Harry had Hermione's hand clasped tightly in his own.

"You need to give us a minute," Harry breathed out sharply.

"What so you can confirm your story?" Bill spat.

"YOU NEED TO GIVE US A MINUTE!" he yelled more forcefully catching himself off guard.

Hermione turned for the first time in minutes placing a hand gently on Harry's forearm. "Harry, it's fine," she murmured weakly, "can you please go get me a sweater? I'll stay here."

Harry looked between the two of them his eyes pleading with concern. He nodded and pulled away from her walking briskly up the street.

Hermione turned glassy eyed towards Bill who watched her incredulously. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he stammered at her in disbelief. "What are the two of you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything," Hermione said. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Its not what you think."

"Care to enlighten me then? Do I even need to tell you what this looks like? You leave my brother with some pathetic story about how you need to go find your parents alone and then you sneak off with his best friend!" Bill's voice was laced with venom.

Hermione shook her head hot tears streaming down her cheeks, "You don't understand."

"Don't understand what? How could you do this to Ron? He loves you."

"And I love him too!"

"You've got a right nasty way of showing it."

Hermione's stomach swirled in anger. "You don't think I know how fucked this is? How confused I am? This-" she motioned back to where Harry had been, "is fucked. I know that. But I couldn't stop okay. Or maybe I could've, but I chose not to. Harry tried to stay away, he tried to keep his distance, but I wouldn't let him because I didn't want to lose him."

Bill shook his head in disgust, "He thinks you're off with Krum or some random muggle idiot you met on summer holiday. He's been walking around the Burrow for weeks obsessing, trying to get in touch with Harry to see if he's heard from you."

"I told him there was somebody else and that I needed to figure things out and that I was confused!" Hermione screeched trying desperately to justify her actions. "In the letter… I told him…"

"You're telling me that you never cheated on him. That this all started after you sent that letter."

The silence that followed was all the answer that Bill needed.

"Bill…"

"I'm only going to say this once," Bill resolved holding his hands up, "is it him? Is this thing between the two of you it? Because if it is… then do what you need to do. But the first thing out of your mouth to me was that you loved Ron and that this thing between you and Harry was, and I quote 'fucked.' Is he your choice? This fucked thing?"

"I don't know." She relinquished this with an honesty that cut at her heart like a curse. She did not know who, she did not know how, she did not know what she was doing. "I don't know," she whispered again.

And in the standoff between her and Bill in the lamplit street of Burleigh Heads Hermione did not hear the footsteps against the cobblestone street behind her. She turned abruptly to see Harry's wounded fallen face behind her, his eyes cast downward, holding a flannel shirt.

"Harry…" Hermione trailed off stomach dropping even lower than it had been.

Harry looked searchingly at Hermione and she knew by the look in his eyes that he had heard.

And so the cracks that had begun to form began to flood.