Very important A/N: In two weeks, I will be leaving for a six week archaeological dig in the Yucatan. While there, I will not have access to the internet. This means that it will be more than two months until my next update. I apologize for the large break in chapters, but I hope you all have a wonderful summer. Until I return, happy reading! :)

The next morning, Hermione walked into the kitchen to find Harry reading a letter. It was from Ron, or one of the Weasleys, if Pig cleaning his feathers on the windowsill was any indication. She walked to stand behind Harry and read over his shoulder. It was from Ron, saying that Mrs. Weasley insisted they have dinner at the burrow that night.

She'd apparently gotten the information about Hermione's departure out of Ron and would not take 'no' for an answer; if Hermione was going to leave, then Mrs. Weasley was going to send her off with a full stomach and then some.

"Oh, no. I really didn't want a big send-off. Now everyone is going to make a big deal out of my leaving. I'll never hear the end of it, from Mrs. Weasley especially," Hermione said, taking the seat next to Harry.

"Yeah, she definitely isn't too pleased that you plan on going off by yourself. But you know how she is; she takes everyone in as her own. She's just worried about you, is all. I'll try to distract her as much as I can, though," he replied, smirking playfully.

Hermione hit his arm lightly but smiled herself. Harry: forever her protector. They ate their fill of the substantial breakfast that Kreacher had prepared as they talked amicably. They kept their conversations to small talk, not wanting to think about her fast-approaching departure for an unknown length of time. After breakfast, Hermione double-checked her luggage (all stowed in the magic bag in which they had lived out of during the Horcrux hunt) as Harry sat on her bed, leaned up against the headboard watching her. She had the habit of fussing with her bottom lip when she was concentrating, pulling it between her teeth or running her tongue over it nearly incessantly. Quite frankly, it drove Harry a little crazy. He knew she was barely aware that she was doing it and probably had no idea of the effect it had on him. He just sighed, which went unnoticed by the highly focused Hermione, and continued to watch her; how dreary his life was going to be without her.

A few hours later, Harry and Hermione stood in the hallway just outside of their bedrooms. They clasped hands and with a quieter than average "pop" appeared in the front yard of the Burrow a second later. They could hear voices and general noise coming from inside, and every light in the house was on. Hermione glanced at Harry, who smiled encouragingly at her. She sighed dramatically and stepped forward, making her way toward the house. Harry just followed behind, a knowing smile on his face.

They were greeted with much to-do, as nearly everyone was in the kitchen either helping cook or nicking bits of food. Harry smiled widely as they walked in; it was the lively, chaotic Weasley house again. He had grown tired of it the last time he'd stayed, what with all of the crowd and fuss over the wedding. After having been away from the hectic, warm, fantastic environment for far too long, however, he found he rejoiced in its familiarity.

Once he and Hermione had been passed around and received a hug from everyone, and two from some, they were finally able to sink into the well-worn but oh-so-comfy couch in the living room. Dinner wasn't just ready yet, and those who weren't helping cook were in the backyard talking and laughing. As he and Hermione sat on the couch in companionable silence, Harry thought about the change in the general atmosphere of the house. While, upon first contact, it had seemed like the same environment, he had come to notice a few subtle differences. With Fred gone, the house was a bit more somber than it had been, and George wasn't as mischievous as he had once been. It was still loud, chaotic, and loving, but with a different tone underneath it all.

Harry was quickly brought out of his musings by Hermione calling his name, her voice a bit worried.

"Harry!"

Apparently she'd been calling him more than once.

"Hmm?" he responded, slowly turning his head in her direction.

"Is everything ok?" she asked, placing her hand gently on his cheek and tilting her head to the side slightly.

He smiled his lopsided smile at her before replying, "Yes, yes everything is just fine. I was just thinking, is all. It smells like dinner's nearly ready, doesn't it?" With that, he placed his hand over hers, holding it to his cheek a moment longer before gently bringing it to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on it. He then returned it to her lap and stood before walking towards the hustle and bustle that was, and would always be the Weasley kitchen. Hermione just shook her head, confused by her best mate's strange behavior, and stood to follow him into the kitchen.

Dinner was a clamorous affair, the table stuffed with people and food alike. Mrs. Weasley made everyone's favorites: beef stew, roast chicken, boiled potatoes, chocolate pie, and treacle tart. Ever since finding out that Harry's favorite dessert was treacle tart, she'd made it for every meal she ever served him. He was quite grateful for her thoughtfulness, but slightly upset at the bloatedness he felt after every meal; he just could not force himself to stop eating in time to not feel like he needed to be rolled home. After they'd all finished stuffing their faces until Hermione thought she spied Mr. Weasley unbutton his pants, they moved t the living room. Hermione was quick and the first to claim her spot on the couch, and Harry moved fast enough to take the spot next to her; they knew that those who didn't move in time would be spending the afternoon on the floor, which was not a the most comfortable position after eating such a large meal. But because space was tight, both Ron and George also crammed their way onto the couch. This left Hermione very tightly wedged between the arm of the couch and Harry.

Normally, this wouldn't be an issue for Hermione. Lately, however, Hermione had become less able to suppress her feelings for a certain best friend. So, she was acutely aware of every point at which they were touching and the warmth and slight tingle she felt at those points, especially where their skin was in contact. She shifted often, trying to not seem uncomfortable. This party was for her, after all; she shouldn't let her inability to control her once-buried feelings for Harry interfere. She tried to push her thoughts and feelings aside to concentrate on the lively conversations going on all around her. And eventually, she was able to, for the most part, ignore the feelings of Harry pushed to tightly against her side and join in on a conversation with Mr. Weasley and Bill about muggles. Because both she and Harry were the only muggle-borns he knew, Mr. Weasley was always very delighted to talk to them about their involvement in the non-magical world. This particular conversation was focused on movies. Mr. Weasley simply did not understand how one could get a picture to move without the use of magic.

Once her conversation had died down, she tuned into what Harry was talking about with Ron and George: quidditch, of course. Not interested in joining their conversation, she instead looked around at everyone in the room, observing them with interest. This was her makeshift family, her only family seeing as how her parents didn't even remember her presently. She'd grown to know and love the band of redheads who had adopted with ease both her and Harry. Fleur, the newest edition to the Weasley clan, stood out the most but was quickly acclimating to the Weasley way of life. Soon, Hermione thought, she would have her own little redheads running around. She sighed at the thought; it was so nice to be able to think about the future without having to wonder if she would even see it. Now, they were all free to live their lives and think about the future as they pleased. And it was wonderful. Her sigh prompted Harry to glance at her curiously. She just smiled at him, which he returned with one of his signature lopsided grins before returning to his conversation.

Harry was woken the next morning by something tickling his chin. But before opening his eyes and fully meeting the day, his senses registered the comforting smell of vanilla and orange that he'd grown so accustomed to as well as a warm weight on his right arm and chest. A smile grew on his face as he realized his situation: he and Hermione had fallen asleep on her bed last night, and she must have repositioned herself in her sleep. Then he remembered why they had fallen asleep together. It was after eleven when they returned from the Weasley's, full to the brim and exhausted. Harry had walked her to her room. Not wanting to part from her just yet, however, they'd sat together and continued talking They'd talked about her leaving tomorrow –today –and they'd talked about anything and everything just so she didn't have to be alone before she left to be on her own for an undetermined amount of time. Though Harry knew she'd never admit it, he knew she was actually slightly afraid of being alone.

While he and Hermione hadn't had many deep talks about their past, they had briefly told one another about their pre-Hogwarts lives. Harry knew that Hermione hadn't had too many childhood friends before Hogwarts and had therefore developed a dislike for being truly alone. Sure, she preferred to have some time to herself while at Hogwarts, but she knew that she wasn't truly alone. Harry and Ron were both always around somewhere as was the gaggle of Gryffindor girls she considered herself at least somewhat friends with.

So, to keep her mind off of her solo journey, they had talked into the early morning hours before finally giving in to the sleep that tugged at their heavy eyelids. Remembering their conversation the previous night and that fact that she was leaving in just a few short hours, Harry almost unconsciously pulled Hermione's sleeping form closer. She made a noise of contentment, something between a sigh and a mew like a kitten that made Harry chuckle despite his efforts to suppress it.

The deep rumbling in his chest, however, woke Hermione completely. She blinked several times before opening her eyes fully and tilting her head to see the face that belonged to the chest she currently was using as a pillow. She was met with her favorite pair of emerald eyes and a smile that reached those eyes, an occurrence that had been so rare in the past year especially.

"Good morning," he said, smiling down at her in a way that she was sure she could get used to.

"Morning," she replied, stretching against him before realizing that this act was mildly inappropriate and sitting up. Despite not getting to sleep until well after midnight, she felt better rested than she had in awhile.

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked, also sitting up and grabbing his glasses from the side-table. He was glad he'd had the sense to take them off before finally falling asleep the previous night; it was never comfortable sleeping with them on.

"Yes, but I don't see how after everything I ate last night," she said, smiling and standing to stretch again. Harry chuckled at her response and poked the part of her stomach that was exposed from her stretch. She immediately recoiled, her hands shooting down to swat his fingers away; but he was too fast. He was the youngest seeker in a century, after all. He yanked his fingers away, replaced them where her hands weren't covering, and continued his assault on her stomach. She doubled over, squirming and swatting at him to no avail.

"Ahh! Harry! Stop, stop! I can't… breathe!" she laughed out, panting. At her request, he finally stopped attack on her most ticklish area but kept his arms around her to hold her up, for which she was grateful because she would've hit the floor for sure without his help. When she'd caught her breath, she turned on him and slapped his chest.

"What a jerk!" But her smile betrayed her. He simply grinned cheekily at her, kissed her flushed cheek, and walked from the room. Hermione just shook her head and followed him to the kitchen. After a short wait, Kreacher filled the table with the usual spread of which they ate their fill. They talked little as they ate, the event they'd both been so dreading drawing ever nearer. After they finished, they showered and met back in Hermione's room.

She was sitting on her bed when he walked in, the bed made and everything in its place.

"I, uh, shrunk my luggage already," she said, only sounding half as melancholy as she was feeling.

"Do you have the portkey Mr. Weasley gave you?"

"Yes, right here," she affirmed, holding up the yellow rubber ducky. They both chuckled a bit at the item. He looked at her, seemingly examining the bath toy in her lap, for a moment longer before going to sit beside her. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him.

"I really need you to be careful, ok?"

"Harry, you know-"

"I know you're always careful," he gently cut her off, "but I need you to promise that you'll be more careful than ever. There could still be rogue Death Eaters or even just dangerous muggles. And I… I just really need you to come back, all right?"

Hermione was nearly brought to tears by his heartfelt request. He'd never asked something of her in such a way, and she knew that if she couldn't refuse him under normal circumstances, she had no chance now.

"I promise. Constant vigilance, right?"

He chuckled shortly before pulling her into a real hug. She wrapped her arms around him also, trying to engrain the feel of his arms around her and his smell in her brain before having to be parted from him. If she could pretend he was with her on the nights she was alone, maybe it would make them a bit easier.

Eventually they released one another and stood, only a few minutes until the portkey activated and transported her to the main magical town in Australia.

"Write to me, ok?" Harry said, taking her hand in his.

"Isn't it always me begging you to do just that?" She gave a watery laugh. "You know I will."

"I'll miss you," he whispered, engulfing her in his arms again. She squeezed him tightly and kissed his cheek as she pulled away.

"I'll miss you, too. But I'll be back soon, hopefully. Just don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, yeah?"

"You got it," he smiled. The duck began to glow faintly blue, a warning that it was soon to activate. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, lingering perhaps a moment too long for a normal, friendly kiss. With a sigh, he pulled back and caressed her cheek with his hand. She mouthed a "bye" before disappearing from the room. A moment later, she was standing in the middle of an empty bar somewhere near Sydney. A tear slid down her cheek that she didn't even bother to wipe away, glad that she'd at least been able to hold it in until she wasn't with Harry. He would've grabbed hold of the portkey as well if he'd seen her crying, and she simply couldn't have that.

At the same moment, Harry was slowly walking out of Hermione's room. He closed the door behind him with a heartbreaking "click," a sound that seemed too final for his liking. What was he going to do with himself for however long she was gone? With the exception of summers and a few Christmases, he'd never really been away from her at all.