Draco woke up. A week had passed since Voldemort's final demise and Harry was something of a star, every magical newspaper and magazine from across the world wanted interviews. Few got them. Soon after Shacklebolt had taken up his new post as Minister for Magic, Harry had gotten a job offer from the auror department. He had gladly accepted it, not least for the protection of the ministry's public relations office, which closed ranks around Harry, keeping the reporters at bay.

Draco lay in bed, looking at the sleeping head next to him. She really was beautiful, wasn't she? The previous night, Hermione had given Draco the promised reward for climbing out of the pipe. It had been a wondrous evening, starting off with the dinner Draco had promised her and continuing from there. Draco lay very still, trying to let Hermione sleep on. It was only fair, it was her house after all. Or at least, it was her childhood home. The sound of her soft breathing filled the room and still Draco lay there, wondering what to do in the next few weeks. He'd already decided that he was going to return to Hogwarts to finish his NEWTs, Professor Snape had asked about that on the day Voldemort died and neither Draco nor Hermione had hesitated in saying they would return. And so they would, but not until next year when the final year courses started again from scratch. In the mean time they had done little things, making themselves comfortable, getting some much needed washing and ironing done and lending a hand to repair the school. Almost the entire magical community had turned out to help with this, including Marcus Merlinus and his father, who, wielding the wand of Merlin, soon finished the job. Despite the destruction, lessons began again only a week after the end of the battle. So now they had the best part of six months to kill until they could return to Hogwarts. There was only one thing Hermione wanted to do, and that was to find her parents. Draco had offered to help her with this and she had gladly accepted.

They had begun by pulling in a favour from Shacklebolt, who had pulled strings to get them access to the paperwork which would show where they were. It had revealed little, except that after arriving in Australia they had settled down, before leaving to go on a holiday from which they had yet to return. The flight from Australia had brought them indirectly back to Europe's most southern point. A couple of quick phone calls had confirmed that Monica and Wendell Wilkins were staying there. Despite qualms about the cost, which Draco had promised he'd cover; Hermione had almost immediately bought two plane tickets. They were due to set off later that day.

Hermione woke with a start.

'What's the time?'

'Six in the morning.'

'Oh. Well, we better get ready then.'

'Already?'

'Well, it does take a bit longer travelling the muggle way. There's all sorts of security checks to go through and it doesn't hurt to be there early. Especially since we're going there on the train. It'll be murder taking our bags on the underground, so we'd better leave extra time.'

'So you're saying it's time to get up?'

'Pretty much. We can grab breakfast at the airport.'

'Ok. We've got everything we need, don't we?'

'Absolutely. Come on. I know you're drop dead gorgeous, but there's no need to go parading about showing everyone how you're built.'

'And the same goes for you, Hermione. You're looking gorgeous, by the way.'

'Thanks, but that doesn't get you out of it.'

'I don't want to get out of it. I'm rather looking forward to this.'

'I've ever really liked flying myself.'

'Well, I've never had a problem, so stick by me and you'll be fine.'

They dressed, picked up their luggage. Locked the house and caught the bus to the nearest tube stop. From there they went north and then west to the airport. Draco lugged his and Hermione's bags to the check in desk, following Hermione through the queues and smiled at the pretty lady who asked him to put the bags, one at a time, on the conveyor belt. From there Hermione guided him through airport security and into the vast hall on the other side, which was littered with shops and restaurants. Draco and Hermione walked together to the escalators and from there they turned left, sitting down in the restaurant for breakfast. It was a good one, with plenty of sausage, black pudding, bacon, beans and tomatoes. Hermione had the same and before long they had finished. Draco paid the bill and they went back downstairs to the big screen where the flights were having their gate numbers announced. There was theirs, gate 55. It was time to get a move on. Heading over to the spiral ramp that led down to the gates they headed down. The shiny conical aluminium fountain in the middle had plenty of coins sitting in it, which Draco added to, throwing a couple of coppers from his change into it. From there they hurried along to the gate along plain corridors.

At the gate they waited before joining the nascent queue for the plane. Draco showed his hastily acquired passport to the man at the gate and they carried on down the ramp and past the funny door and onto the aircraft. Draco showed his ticket to the man waiting by the door and was directed to his seat. He sat down in it and Hermione sat next to him. Eventually the plane was loaded and the seatbelt sign came on. Draco buckled up and looked out the window. In front of him was the back end of a jet engine sticking out from behind the wing.

As the plane started to move towards the runway, Draco felt a sense of nervous anticipation. He also felt some pain, as Hermione began to squeeze his left hand harder than it had ever been squeezed before. He looked over to Hermione who looked on the verge of terror. The plane stopped and then started to move again. This time it was no slow trot, this time it was going down the runway at a gallop. Draco felt himself forced into the back of his chair and Hermione squeezed tighter still. T carried on and then Draco's stomach sank as the plane lurched smoothly into the air. The plane climbed and climbed before turning south for its long journey to Gibraltar. AS the plane settled into a cruise, Hermione's grip weakened before she finally let go.

'Ow.' Draco said, rubbing his hand.

'Sorry. I did tell you I wasn't a good flier though.'

'Yeah, you did. Feeling better now?'

'Slightly.'

'That's good.'

'I suppose so.'

The plane drifted noisily through the skies for hours. Draco looked down on the cloud tops, wondering how long the journey would last. He soon got his answer as the clouds approached the plane, accompanied by another funny feeling in his stomach. Hermione reached for his hand and started to squeeze again. Draco wasn't sure his hand could take a second round of what had happened earlier without sustaining a permanent injury, so he did the only thing he could think of to distract Hermione from her fear. He kissed her. She kissed back and the pain in Draco's hand went. Draco didn't see the Rock looming behind him. He didn't see the vast cliff face out of the window when the plane came into land. All he saw was Hermione, who kept kissing him to keep away the fear until the plane had come to a definite stop at the terminal. The noise of the engines died away and the lights flickered. At the front of the plane someone opened the door, letting in the sunlight, heat and air. It was a wondrous sensation after being cooped up for three hours in a space not quite big enough to fit his legs in. Slowly Draco got to his feet and made for the door, following Hermione out of the plane and down the stairs that had been pushed to the door to let them down. Outside it was pleasantly warm- like the hottest of summer's days in Britain. They walked to the terminal building as part of the crowd. To Draco's left was the rock itself, which Draco struggled to take his eyes off of. When he did, he found himself looking at the sea, both in front of him and behind him, stretching off on either side of the runway. This was a good place to be, he thought. Hermione was clearly thinking similar thoughts, the look on her face one of subtle happiness and delight. Before long they had reclaimed their bags and caught a taxi to the hotel they had booked, right in the middle of town.

Before long they had checked into their room and unpacked, and were beginning to feel a bit peckish.

'Fancy heading into town to find somewhere to have lunch?'

'Sounds lovely.'

'Come on then.'

They headed out of the hotel and turned left, walking down the street past department stores pubs and a whole parade of shops. Eventually the road broadened into a grand square surrounded by high walls.

'Looks like we came the right way.'

'Yeah, plenty of restaurants and the like round here.'

Anyone of them take your fancy?'

'I'm not sure. I can't really see them that well from here.'

They walked around the perimeter of the square until Hermione settled on a place to have a late lunch, they walked in and soon were eating to their hearts' content.

They finished, paid and left. Unsure of what to do, and deciding to leave finding Hermione's parents until the next day, they decided to go for a walk. Together they headed south away from where they had had lunch until they had left the town behind them. It had been a long walk, but they hadn't finished yet. Hermione had spotted a footpath that took them right to the top of the Rock, they walked up the path around the end of the rock. It climbed shallowly and they kept up an easy pace until they came to a seeming dead end.

'Han g-on. This can't be it, can it? Weren't we supposed to be going to the top, not to some old bunker?'

'Yeah. We must have taken a wrong turning somewhere. See- the path carries on up there?'

'Oh yeah.'

'Well, if we head back round this way then we can probably get there.'

'Come on then. Race you.'

Draco gave Hermione a couple of seconds head start before chasing after her. He raced along the gravelly path, skidding around the corner where Hermione had just turned to go uphill. The path started getting a lot steeper here, and the gravel was giving way to bare limestone in patches. They tore up the hill until it flattened off. Hermione had stopped so Draco stopped too.

'Pretty view isn't it?'

'Absolutely.'

For a while they stood, half waiting to get their breath back, half looking out to sea and admiring the view. Behind and above them the mighty crest of the rock sat, waiting. At long last they tired of the view and began to climb again. They passed through a short tunnel and came out the other side. The path was now mostly limestone, the gravel of the lower reaches having nearly totally disappeared. Now they had one last stretch of flat to go before they were into the staircases that wound their way up the mountainside. Slowly they climbed their way up the narrow steps, pausing at each bend to admire the view. The steps themselves now faded away vertiginously below them as they were nearing the top. Above them damp clouds whipped over the sharp crest, trailing away in spiralling wisps as the wind blew them over the top. Before long they were at the top themselves and the clouds were forming all around them.

'Fancy moving on?' Draco asked when he had had enough of looking out in every direction, admiring the long views.

'Yeah. Lets head back down. That way?'

'I think so.'

They walked slowly down the road that they had climbed to. Its ribbon of tarmac led them down to another road, which went in two directions.

'I think that way leads us more directly back to town, past your parents' hotel.'

'Let's head that way the, shall we?'

'Sounds great.'

They turned downhill and followed the road, passing the entrance to some caves and carrying on down the road, which wound between the trees. Occasionally they saw some of the apes wandering amongst them, but most of them were staying well clear of them, but some more adventurous ones were coming down to meet the tourists, who were finishing their tours of the Upper Rock and returning to their cruise ships and hotels. Hermione suddenly came to a dead halt and pointed at two of the tourists.

'That's them.' She hissed, looking around to see if anyone was watching. No-one was so she pulled her wand out of her bag and worked the counter charm they had looked up before they left. The pair looked around and looked straight through Hermione, who was bitterly disappointed.

'Oliver.'

'Enid?'

'Why have you been calling me Monica?'

'I've no idea. Why have you been calling me Wendell?'

Hermione and Draco walked back to their hotel, with mixed feelings. Clearly the charm had been lifted- they had remembered their own names, Hermione assured Draco and yet, and yet they had looked at Hermione as if she was a complete stranger.

'Maybe the charm takes a while to take effect. You know, names come back more easily than other things. Give it time. Perhaps it'll take a while to work.'

'I hope you're right.'

'Don't worry. Everything will work out just fine. I'm sure.'

Draco stretched his arms wide and Hermione buried herself against his shoulder and began to cry.