The Houses Competition (THC), Round 7.
House: Gryffindor
Class: Charms
Category: Standard
Prompt Chosen: [Theme] Travel, [Emotion] Sadness
Rating: Teen and Up
Word Count: 2971
Beta(s): secretfanficlover, TheFrenchPress
Warning: Non-canon minor character death, coping with grief.
…
Summary: One year after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione and Severus travel to Australia to restore Hermione's parents' memories. What will they lose along the way...and what will they gain?
…
Severus's offer to accompany Hermione to search for her parents in Australia had surprised her at first, and so she'd declined. Surely this was something that she could-and should-do on her own. Surely he would want to spend his time rebuilding his own life now that the war was over and he was a free man. But as the months and weeks drew closer and closer, the idea of facing it alone was too much for her.
They'd spent so much time together after the war, Hermione fiercely championing his defense alongside Harry. He'd retreated from much of the Wizarding world, lost in his guilt and regret, something that Hermione knew a thing or two about.
Things between her and Ron had gotten more tense the longer the Death Eater trials went on, his grief and anger over Fred's death, that Severus had lived while he hadn't, coupled with her refusal to let Severus or Draco Malfoy be brought up on charges without a firm defense-Draco had refused to identify them, after all-had been the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.
She'd apparated to Spinner's End late one night, full of heartache and guilt, apprehension and stress, and she'd only meant to talk-to someone other than her friends who meant well, but just couldn't understand her fears or guilt. But then one thing led to another, and it turned out she wasn't the only one in need of comfort and distraction. On the morning that followed they hadn't said much, but before she'd left she'd asked him if he was still willing to come with her to Australia, and he'd simply nodded.
International Floo networks were still locked down in the aftermath of the war, and Portkey travel was still suspended as Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers tried to flee from the Ministry. Harry had suggested waiting until the restrictions were lifted and taking a Portkey across the ocean, but she couldn't wait that long.
Hermione had set aside her fear of flying for this trip, deciding she could endure the cost and time of a 24-hour flight if it meant that she didn't have to deal with days-or even weeks-of travel by train and boat. She hadn't seen her parents in nearly two years. She needed them back.
Severus had been a rock throughout the flight. He'd said nothing when she gripped his hand on takeoff, endured her constant trips to the bathroom to ease her nauseous stomach, always seeming to have secured a ginger ale and some saltines during her absence. If he'd been bothered by her falling asleep against his shoulder, he'd said nothing.
She wasn't sure if he'd even slept, though she'd happily accepted the Dreamless Sleep he'd discreetly passed her around the thirteenth hour mark. Her nightmares from the war were bad enough, she could only begin to imagine what his might be like.
He'd confided in her, that night, that he'd never expected to survive the war. That he'd made his peace with dying for the cause, knowing that it would have meant he'd finally atoned for his sins. He'd never accounted for that damn bird.
Fawkes had disappeared once again after that. Hermione liked to think that he'd been sent on Dumbledore's orders; one last act from the departed Headmaster.
After they'd landed, they'd booked into a Bed and Breakfast, the jet lag catching up to both of them despite their sleep on the plane. If either of them had any qualms about sharing a room in the small, out-of-the-way establishment, they didn't comment on it. Severus simply handed over the Muggle currency he'd brought with him and carried their bags to the room.
So there they were, tucked into a small, cozy room on the outskirts of Perth, as far away as possible from the world and war they'd come to know.
Hermione had calls to make, having only a vague notion of where her parents had relocated upon their arrival in Australia. Severus grabbed the shower first, leaving her in peace while she began her search.
There were nearly a dozen 'Wendell Wilkins' listed in the area, and Hermione had to call each and every one of them. There were a handful of 'Monica Wilkins' in the directory as well, so she started with those, to no avail.
By the time Severus had finished with his shower and had changed into sleepwear—Muggle attire, for the purposes of their travel—she only had three names left on her list and was beginning to feel discouraged, when suddenly she perked up.
"Wendell Wilkins…he had a dental practice, right?" the woman on the other end asked.
"Yes!" Hermione shouted, causing the former spy in the room to snap his head sharply in her direction, his toothbrush clenched tightly in his jaw. "Yes, he and his wife—Monica?"
The woman on the other end of the line hummed, followed by a shuffle of papers. "Not sure about the Missus, but I spoke to Mr. Wilkins a few times, a couple months ago. My husband and I bought the place from him. He mentioned relocating to…hmm, let's see, I think it was…Burswood? Yes, that sounds right."
"Burswood," Hermione repeated, scratching down the name on the pad of paper provided by their host. "I don't suppose they left a forwarding number?"
"No, sorry love," the woman replied.
Hermione thanked her anyway, saying her goodbyes and hanging up the phone.
"Progress?" Severus inquired, wiping the toothpaste off the corner of his mouth and pouring himself a glass.
"Yes," Hermione nodded. "It looks like they moved to Burswood a couple months ago. I'm going to check downstairs and see where I can purchase a directory for the area." She checked her watch. "We should probably get an early dinner and then turn in for the night. I'll pick something up on my way back?"
Severus nodded his assent, reaching for his wallet, but Hermione held up her own.
"My treat this time," she told him. "You can't pay for the room and feed me." She flashed a grin at his perched eyebrow, ducking out of the room before he could argue.
She felt lighter than she had in over a year, thrilled at the prospect of reuniting with her parents once more.
…
They took a bus to Burswood the next day, having found a local address for one Wendell Wilkins. Hermione fidgeted the entire bus ride, having to resort to sitting on her hands after Severus had pulled them away from her teeth for the third time in half an hour.
She had no idea how her parents would react to her presence, or the restoration of their memories. She assumed there would be a fair amount of shouting and crying. Hopefully they would realize that she'd done it to protect them, and they would eventually forgive her.
It was shortly after two in the afternoon when they arrived in Burswood, Severus hailing a cab to take them to their final destination.
It was a modest home, much smaller than their family home had been. Hermione trailed her fingers over the fence as they passed through the front gate, thrown at the unfamiliarity of it all. She didn't know what she'd expected to find, but felt a knot in her stomach as they approached the front door.
...
Severus had offered to let Hermione do this in private, but she had asked for the emotional support that his presence provided. 'Emotional' and 'support' were not sentiments that he was overly familiar with, but he'd promised to try his best. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he would do to occupy himself in her absence.
He'd always had a mission, something to strive towards. With the war over, and the unimaginable reality of neither dying nor being sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban or the Dementor's Kiss, the former spy and Potions Master had no idea what he was supposed to do with his life now.
Their relationship was an odd, unexpected one, drawn from a moment of weakness and fuelled by a mutual desire to not be alone. He didn't fully understand why she hadn't asked the young Mr. Weasley to accompany her on this quest, though she didn't seem to like talking about whatever had transpired between them. He certainly wasn't going to pry. When she was ready to talk, she would.
Whatever distraction that he and Hermione were allowing themselves, he would take it for as long as he could. Every moment he spent alive, not wallowing in Azkaban, was a gift that he had no intention of wasting.
He walked slightly behind his companion as they neared the Muggle home, taking in the sight of the small garden to their left as they walked to the doorway. There was a single Muggle car in the driveway, completing the scene of this very non-magical setting.
Severus stood passively behind Hermione as she hesitated at the door, taking note of the nervous tension that flooded her body. He opened his mouth to say something...offer her encouragement, give her a forceful nudge? He closed his mouth again when he realised nothing he could say would be more productive than letting her do this at her own pace. He settled for bringing his hand to her shoulder and squeezing once, brushing his thumb gently over her warm skin before dropping his hand again, letting her know that he was there for her.
...
Hermione took a deep breath in front of him, and reached out a trembling hand to knock at the door.
Moments later, a man answered the door. He was shorter than Severus, with a slightly round face and receding brown hair. He was perhaps a few years older than Severus, something Hermione knew Severus would bring up if they found their way back to each other. She tucked that thought away for another day as her eyes fully took in her father standing before her.
"Hello," Wendell Wilkins greeted them politely. "Can I help you?"
"H-hello," Hermione stuttered, taking an unconscious step forward and then immediately righting herself. "Hi."
Mr. Wilkins smiled awkwardly back at them. "Hi," he repeated back, glancing back and forth between the two strangers on his front step.
"Sorry," Hermione managed eventually. "I know you don't recognise me. I was hoping to talk about-"
"Are you an old patient of mine?" Mr. Wilkins wondered, tilting his head. "I think you do look a little familiar."
A nervous laugh escaped her lips, shaking her head. It took everything in her not to rush into his arms and never let him go. "Um, not quite. Well, actually, I suppose so, but...it's rather a long story."
She glanced behind her at Severus, her eyes shining as she felt the pieces of her heart coming back together. "We've come a long way to find you...would it be alright if we came inside? What we have to discuss...it would be easier to talk to you and your wife together."
Mr. Wilkins's smile fell, and he pursed his lips. "Oh. You haven't heard then…"
Hermione frowned, tilting her head. "Sorry?" She heard Severus shift behind her.
Mr. Wilkins cleared his throat, looking down at the ground. "There was an accident...it was no one's fault, really. There'd been a freak rainstorm, the roads were a right mess, the visibility was awful. Neither vehicle had time to stop. Monica, she...well, they said she didn't suffer. It was over quickly. Small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless."
Hermione knew that he was speaking, but her brain could not comprehend his words. She was dreaming, obviously. This was a nightmare. That was the only possible explanation for why it seemed as though her father was telling her that her mother was dead.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said, her head foggy and heavy. "I must have misheard you. Your wife…"
"When did it happen?" Severus's voice spoke from behind her, and Hermione wanted to strike him.
Why was he acting as thought this was real? It wasn't real. They were still in the Bed and Breakfast, they must have overslept and missed their bus, and Hermione just needed to pinch herself and she'd wake up, and everything would be fine.
She brought her right hand to her left elbow, pinching the skin and wincing as her father answered the question.
"Four months ago."
Hermione felt her world collapse. "No," she breathed, her body falling backwards. Four months…
She didn't notice that Severus had caught her, couldn't make out the words her father was saying, couldn't feel anything but numbness.
Then her father was moving backwards, holding the door open wider, and Severus was guiding her into the house, and suddenly Hermione needed to be anywhere but there. She couldn't go inside the house. She couldn't look at what she'd done.
"No," she sputtered finally, pulling herself slightly out of Severus's arms. "No, I can't. I'm...s-sorry!" She tugged herself free forcefully and took several uneven steps backwards. She nearly fell off the front step, but Severus was at her elbow again, keeping her steady. "I have to...we have to go. I'm sorry to have bothered you."
Hermione tore her eyes away from her father, guilt and heartache warring for supremacy inside her mind. She met Severus's eyes, shocked to see the worry etched across his normally stoic face. "Get me out of here," she pleaded softly.
Severus opened his mouth to argue, but then shut it firmly and nodded. He turned back to Hermione's father, dipping his head apologetically. "We are sorry to have disturbed you. We'll try to come back when...when she's feeling better."
Hermione shook her head, pulling herself and Severus away from the house, from her father, from the life she'd forced upon him. She allowed herself one final look at her father's confused face, noting the traces of grief that were branded into his worry lines, before turning and running as fast as she could.
She ran for two blocks before she found a secluded enough place to apparate, waiting for Severus to catch up to her. As soon as he did, she pressed her face into his chest, begging him to take them back to the Bed and Breakfast.
When she opened her eyes again, they were back in the room they'd shared less than twelve hours before. A lifetime ago...when both of her parents had been alive.
Severus left her side only long enough to find the owner and reserve the room again, coming back to her within minutes, casting a silencing spell on the room without a second thought.
Hermione stood in front of the bed, her head in her hands, eyes squeezed shut. "This isn't real," she whimpered, over and over. "Tell me it's not real."
"I can't do that," he told her, bringing his hands to her shoulders and turning her into his body. He felt her fingers grip his jacket, the Muggle attire only serving as another reminder of where they were, and what had happened.
Tears fell from Hermione's eyes freely, her body wracked with sobs and barely distinguishable pleas. She cried, and he held her, not saying anything about the wetness soaking through his shirt, or the wails that were sharp in his ears. She screamed that it was all her fault, that she'd only meant to keep them safe, that her mother had been alive four months ago, if she'd just come to find them sooner.
She tried to pull out of his arms once to tear at her hair and slap herself, but he just trapped her arms between them and held her more firmly.
Hermione didn't know how long she cried for. At some point she'd calmed enough for him to relocate her to the bed, covering her with blankets and his own warmth until she succumbed to sleep.
They stayed there for days, Hermione only leaving the bed to use the bathroom or drink the water Severus forced upon her. She couldn't hold down any food, her body so lost in her sadness.
She'd thought she'd known grief when she'd sent her parents away thinking they never had a daughter. She thought she'd known grief when Dobby had died, when little Colin Creevey had died, when Fred had died. She'd been so wrong.
When Hermione finally found the strength to leave the room, to eat a meal, to walk with Severus, she decided she wouldn't-couldn't- restore her father's memories. It was heartbreaking enough that he'd lost his wife. She couldn't allow him to carry the burden or know her mother had died thinking she never existed. She couldn't face her father and tell him that if she hadn't sent them here to be safe, his wife would still be alive.
Severus disagreed with her decision, but allowed her to make it without intervention, knowing she may change her mind once her own grief had time to settle.
They agreed to take the majority of their trip back to London by train, neither wanting to rush back to the world they'd left behind. Hermione couldn't bear to see her friends, nor could she bear to be alone with her grief.
Severus booked them a sleeper car, holding her in his arms every night while she cried, letting her lean against him throughout the days as they looked out the train window, sharing stories from their childhoods, of their mothers...both now lost.
London drew closer and closer every day, and Hermione willed the days to run longer, the train to slow down...anything to keep them from having to face all they had lost.
Hermione lost herself in Severus's comfort, unsure how she'd ever be able to sleep alone again.
…
The end...for now.