Present Day
Harry's POV
"Mr. Dipple wants to see you in his office, Mr. Potter."
Harry looked up gratefully, immediately abandoning the paperwork he had been working on. Even a meeting with Dipple would be better than the incident report he was filling out. Nodding kindly to Carla, the office secretary, he pushed his way into the busy corridor. Wizards and witches in all assortment of shapes streamed around him, some with their heads in books and some talking loudly to the person next to them. Harry caught only snippets of conversation as he made his way towards the lifts.
"Yes, Shacklebolt said so–"
"Have you seen the–"
"No, Peter promised he'd finish–
"–say something about it?"
Harry shoved himself into the already crowded lift. "Morning, Master Potter," a small voice squeaked kindly.
"Morning, Laksi," Harry said back to the house elf, who was proudly dressed in her very own button down blue and grey coat. Despite the "elf freedom movement" of a few years earlier, most of the creatures were content to continue to work in the ministry for a meager pay.
"4?" Laksi said, a spindly finger hovering over the glowing control panel. Harry nodded, and she added 4 to the list of 1, 2, 5, and 8. The lift jerked sideways momentarily, then sped further underground with a loud whoosh.
"How do you get used to this, Laksi?" Harry called to the elf as he tried to balance himself in the small space.
"Lots of practice, Sir!" She piped back, a broad smile stretching across her tiny face.
Three stops later, Harry bid Laksi goodbye as he left the elevator alone. He scurried forward, took a right, then two lefts. Marked upon the ornate black door were the words "Thomas Dipple, Auror Department Head" in gold leaf. He steeled himself to face his surly boss before knocking on the thick door three times.
Tom Dipple was, at heart, a businessman, and it was no secret he did not like Harry Potter. While many called Harry a prodigy for his quick rise to fame in the Ministry along with the outside world, Dipple prefered the term "leech". He used it so often it had become–almost– a term of endearment. He was a stout, fat, person who strongly reminded Harry of the Dursley's. The feeling of disgust between them was mutual, and Ginny's warnings were the only things that kept Harry from hexing the man every time he opened his mouth.
As he entered the darkly lit but spacious office, Harry tried to prepare himself for the inevitable "talking to" that Dipple would give him.
"Potter," Dipple drawled, hardly looking up.
"Sir," Harry nodded.
"I'd like to talk to you about a few things. This request for recess, for example?" A thick packet of papers was thrown across the desk. "A month is rather long, don't you think?"
Harry gritted his teeth. "I'm sure I've told you before, sir, but I am getting married in August."
"And?"
"And I'll need some time off. Sir."
Dipple glaced at him briefly, his dark eyes unsympathetic. "A month, leech?"
Harry paused, his blood bubbling. "Yes, sir. We plan on going on a honeymoon after the ceremony." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "To the south of France."
"Want to go abroad, eh?" Dipple cocked an eyebrow. "Well isn't that fantastic." He shuffled some forms and handed one to Harry. "Lucky you, then, that I have an assignment across the seas, eh? This can be your 'break' instead."
"Excuse me?"
Dipple waved his hand dismissively. "All in the report, leech. You may go."
Harry stared at his boss, then back at the paper stuffed into his hand. "But, sir, this is in only a few days! My wedding isn't until–"
"Move it up," Dipple said tartly. "That will be all."
"Sir, I can't just–"
"That will be all, Potter!"
With a flick of Dipple's wand, Harry was shoved out the door and it slammed in his face.
"Arsehole!" He muttered, kicking the door in frustration. Harry stalked down the long corridor, his blood boiling and his fists clenched. It was just like Dipple to ruin his plans.
It wasn't that Harry really wanted the big, white wedding that Ginny had planned– as long as they were both there, Harry didn't give a rat's ass if they got married in a corn field. But he'd submitted the proposal as soon as they'd set date, almost three weeks ago. Plenty of time for Dipple to clear Harry's schedule. And now he was sending him to Merlin knows where– Harry glanced angrily at the sheet in his hand.
Involuntarily, he gasped.
The assignment was located in Mackay Australia.
That was the last place Hermione had been seen.
Hermione's POV
The constant heat was one thing Hermione hated about Australia. She was used to rain, even in the summertime, and abundant snows in the winter. But in Mackay, in rarely snowed. Now it was foggy and oppressive, humid despite it being the colder months of the year.
But her parents, who had always been warm-weathered people, enjoyed it immensely.
Hermione sighed, her eyes closing briefly. She remembered, as a child, loving the warm of the beach– not those in England, Merlin forbid!– but on the few trips she and her parents had gone abroad to Greece or the Canary Islands. Maybe it was age, but Hermione no longer enjoyed the sand and the sun and the water as much as she used to.
Lifting a large book from the side table, she flipped through it dismissively. Muggle books were light, fluffy and boring– even War and Peace bored her. She imagined the Hogwarts library for a moment, its rows and rows of ancient sacred texts, the high, arching windows, the restricted section and its often screaming pages. Letting her mind wander, Hermione allowed herself to be enveloped in the smell of the corridors and the warm fire in the Gryffindor common room. Studying late into the night, getting hopelessly lost in the castle, visiting Hagrid, laughing with Ron and Harry– oh, god, Harry!
Hermione felt the all too familiar tugging on her heart when she thought of him. Although she rarely slipped up anymore, there had been times, especially those times, when she missed him so terribly getting out of bed was impossible. There were things he would never witness– that anyone in his position should witness, normally– but there wasn't much normal about this situation, was there?