A small author's note to begin with: Firstly, I would like to thank everyone faithfully following and reading the story. I hope everyone is enjoying it. Please don't shy away from leaving (lengthy) reviews. I want to know what parts of the story you like, and what parts you don't like.

Lastly: I have been writing a next-generation fic that is seeing very low traffic. It is called "The White Tomb Wizards: Ankh of Escariot". It would really make my day if you guys would read a part of it and tell me what you think about it.

Ron went to sleep early that night, and so did Hermione. Their alarm clocks were set for three thirty, which was at least seven hours too early in Ron's opinion. His hand groped for it wildly when it started beeping. His dreams had been very confusing. He had been standing with Harry in front of a ruined building, from which an old woman came that turned into a giant snake. The dream had then changed quite abruptly into a scene where he was walking through a forest calling out after Hermione. He had found her tangled in an enormous spider web. He was about to help her down when he saw a set of eight eyes looking at him from the canopy. Luckily, the alarm clock had chosen just that moment to wake up him.

'Turn it off already!' Harry mumbled from his camp bed, pushing his pillow over ears to muffle the sound.

Ron forced his eyes open and batted the alarm clock from his night stand. It zoomed across the room and hit the wall, from which it bounced off to thud dully onto the floorboards of his room. Upstairs, the ghoul rattled some of the pipes.

'Piss off, you foul-smelling corpse,' Ron muttered, rolling over on his other side. He was about to close his eyes again when he realized that he was going to travel to Australia with Hermione.

It had taken most of his willpower to get out of bed, and he sleepily descended the staircase to enter the bathroom. A cold shower might just wake him up enough to get through breakfast. He also needed to take a leak. Arriving at the bathroom, he found it occupied.

'Isn't that just great,' he thought, 'I guess I'll eat a piece of toast while I wait for it to free up.'

His mum was already up. She looked up at him as he descended the stairs.

'Ron, you are up!' she said, a considerable amount of surprise in her voice, 'I had expected you to oversleep. Let me make you a nice breakfast.'

A minute later, Ron was staring at two corned beef sandwiches.

The shower switched off a few minutes after he had finished his breakfast. Ron really needed to take a piss by now, and he made off to the bathroom at double time. The door was still locked.

'Whoever is in there, please hurry up!' he said, rapping his knuckles across the door, 'I need to use the can.'

The door opened a minute later. Hermione popped out, her hair bundled in a white cotton towel. 'Always the charmer, aren't you?' she said, a smile playing on her lips.

For a split second, Ron took in the sight of Hermione in front of him. She was pink from showering, a couple of drops of water clinging to her neck and behind her ear. She wore no make-up, which was not unusual for her, but the pink colouring of her cheeks concealed the paleness of her face just as effectively. She was wearing his Weasley sweater again. Her legs, covered in her pyjama bottoms, stuck out from it. She pecked him on his cheek, then headed off to Ginny's room.

Time seemed to go faster and faster. Before he knew it, Ron was standing in front of the parents's fireplace, watching his father disappear ahead of them, Ron's heavy backpack lodged between his legs. Hermione was next. After taking a carefully measured amount of floo powder, she stepped into the emerald flames, clearly stating "Heathrow Airport, wizard entrance, departures". She spun around twice before she was lost in the flames.

Most of the family members had decided to sleep in. Having said their goodbyes the evening before, his brothers and sister had all wished them good luck. Harry had come down a few minutes ago. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and his hair was more ruffled and unruly than Ron had ever seen it. He stifled a yawn. Hermione had hugged him, ordering him to take rest and not to fret too much. He had half-heartedly replied. He had simply given Ron a pat on the back, though Ron had not expected another hug like the night before.

'Go on, Ronald,' his mum said, pushing him ahead. He took a handful of floo powder and cast it into the fire. It turned green instantly. Clearly stating his intended destination, Ron felt himself zoom past many different fireplaces before coming to a halt in a small room. His father was loading the backpack onto a trolley. Hermione stood beside him.

He quickly vacated the fireplace, knowing his mother would arrive soon. Brushing off a bit of soot from his clothes, he heard a woman's voice coming from the ceiling.

'Mister VanDerKamp heading to Amsterdam,' it said, 'Please proceed to gate twelve. You are delaying the flight.'

Ron walked to the trolley, taking the handles in hand and driving it around a little. He could hardly feel the backpack's weight. His mother appeared, and after brushing a speck of soot from her robes, she strode over to Ron and Hermione. 'Where to now?' It was obvious she didn't quite know where to go.

Hermione combed through some papers, then told them they would have to go to terminal five. She set of at a brisk pace, Ron walking next to her, one step behind, and his parents following them a few feet behind. Hermione seemed to know where she was going, and indeed managed to steer them directly to the correct counter. While they waited in line for the baggage check-in, Hermione told them she had been here quite a few times in the past, when her parents would take her on a vacation.

'I'm not sure if I would prefer this to using a portkey,' his father said quietly, 'There seems to be a lot of waiting involved.'

'Yes,' Hermione said, 'Our plane doesn't leave until just over three hours from now.'

'You mean we could have gotten up three whole hours later?' Ron asked.

'No, Ron,' Hermione assured him, 'Check-in stops two hours in advance. They have to get the luggage into the plane first. Then, there is the business of loading the passengers in. It's not as quick as you would think.'

Ron wondered for a moment why it would take two hours just to get some luggage in an airplane. Having learned not to ask too many questions about muggles, Ron mulled it over for a moment and came to the logical conclusion that they did not have house elves or magic to transport the luggage. He bent towards Hermione, afraid that the question he was about to ask would be stupid.

'Do muggles move all these bags on their own?' It seemed improbable. There had to be a hundred people checking in baggage at the same time. Even if a single muggle could transport ten pieces of luggage at the same time, that would mean there had to be hundreds of them walking around at the same time.

'No, Ron,' Hermione said, 'They have an automated system for that. For each bag they register what plane it has to go to. A system of conveyor belts takes the luggage to a big cart, which is driven to the airplane. It is loaded in by two people.'

Ron pondered this for a moment. The suitcase of an elderly man was on its way from the check-in counter to a hole behind one of the desks. There, it fell onto another belt, which took the bag down under ground. For a moment, he imagined a large web of these belt stretching out all over the airport. It seemed almost impossible.

Hermione took care of checking in. She showed the lady behind the counter their passports (his father had spent several hours looking for it until his mother gave up and summoned them. Accio passports!) and she asked if they would have window seats. This seemed to cause a bit of distress with the stewardess, who did not seem to be able to tell if their seats were window or aisle seats. She became even more distressed when the boarding passes were printed, and their seat numbers turned out to be -1a and -1b.

Ron and Hermione walked up to the customs entrance, where Hermione suddenly stopped. 'This is as far as you will be allowed to follow us, mr. and mrs. Weasley. We're going to have to say our goodbyes now.'

His mother was highly offended that they would not be allowed to join them to the gate, but bade them a very warm goodbye, fussing over Hermione, and hugging Ron tightly. Before she let go, she reminded him of his promise in a stern whisper.

'Yes, mum, I remember.'

'Good,' she replied, while Hermione observed them with a raised eyebrow, 'Well, good luck. Don't forget to write!'

Together, Ron and Hermione joined the queue for the customs check. It was a minor inconvenience. The metal detector went haywire when Ron stepped through (he had carefully placed any iron items in a basket as per Hermione's instructions). A grumpy security guard walked up to him carrying a long pointed device, but an elderly man that was clearly his superior brushed him off.

'Don't worry, mister Weasley,' he said, 'Sensitive equipment like that tends to go off when a wizard passes through.'

Ron eyed the man suspiciously. He had absolutely no recollection of having met this man before.

'I'm a squib,' he said, 'And you are right famous. I saw your faces on a picture on the Daily Prophet. Now move along please.'

He turned off the machine temporarily so Hermione could pass through. They quickly collected their belongings. Ron looked back. His parents were just visible from behind the queue of travellers. He waved them goodbye one last time.

Hermione guided Ron around the airport, looking for their gate. It turned out to be at quite a distance from customs, and they passed a few shops as they moved. Ron saw Hermione looking ruefully at a perfume shop. Hermione had spent nearly all of her savings last year. They had been given some money by his parents, but it was not much, and they would need it for food and lodging in Australia. He was unable to keep her from entering a bookstore though. She didn't buy anything, but spent quite a while fingering through popular literature.

'Just buy it, Hermione,' Ron said, after Hermione had picked up the same book for the second time, clearly interested, 'We'll just limit the amount of five-course meals in fancy restaurants.'

'You are trying to spoil me,' she said with a smile.

'No, just trying to butter you up,' he said with a grin.

Hermione stretched out and kissed his cheek. 'It's working.'

They passed a candy store a little while after that. Hermione insisted on buying a triangular piece of chocolate she claimed he would love. It was quite pricey, but she would not budge.

An hour later, Ron was standing in front of a glass wall overlooking their airplane. Their flight would not leave for some time, but boarding would commence in ten minutes. Ron wondered if their luggage was already on the plane. He had seen a man arrive driving what looked like a train on wheels, trailing a large amount of carriages filled with luggage. Most of that luggage had been loaded into the airplane by another machine that had a long platform it could raise up.

Ron turned around and saw Hermione looking at him. She had admonished him for wanting to try the triangular chocolate, telling him it was for the trip.

'What?' he said innocently.

'Nothing. I was just wondering what you were thinking.'

Her crossed over to her to plant a kiss on her lips. She was obviously embarrassed, because she turned a little pink and ended the kiss as soon as it had good and well started.

'Not here,' she whispered, patting the chair next to her to invite him to sit down.

'I was wondering how many passengers were on this flight.'

Hermione quickly surveyed their surroundings. The waiting area was completely filled with passengers. They were sandwiched between an elderly couple on the left, and a rather corpulent woman on the right of them.

'Quite a few, I reckon,' Ron said, draping an arm around her, 'There have to be at least-'

'Ladies and gentlemen,' a voice suddenly called, 'We have begun boarding for flight CPA 256 to Darwin. We are at this time boarding all business class passengers from row numbers -1 to 15.'

None of the other passengers seemed to notice the odd row number, but Ron had the sneaking suspicion that none of them had actually heard it. Hermione got up and extracted their boarding passes from her new green bag. She handed one to Ron. Together, they approached the counter. The other passengers were mostly businessmen, though there was a family too.

The stewardess glanced at their tickets for a moment when they handed them to her, then inserted the passes in a machine. She was a young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties. Her hair was in a tight bun. She was wearing a form fitting black airport outfit, quite different from the other stewardesses, which were all wearing the same bright red outfit. A green light lit up as the boarding passes popped up out of another opening located at the top of the machine.

'Everything looks in order,' she said, handing the tickets back to them. 'Follow me please.'

Another stewardess took over operating the machine, while they walked after her. She entered the long metal tube that led to the entrance of the plane.

'The other passengers might notice your seats,' she said as she continued to walk at a brisk pace, 'but they won't be able to focus on them very well. The flight crew will service you as they do the rest of the plane, but try not to call them over too often. It… confuses them a little.'

They stepped into the airplane through a door. Ron had to duck a little to keep from hitting his head. There were more stewards and stewardesses standing inside the plane. Each of them welcomed them aboard.

Hermione and Ron were guided to the right, away from the nose of the plane. There, at the very front of the plane, was row -1. It consisted of two very comfortable-looking chairs, facing a very large television screen.

'I would like to ask you to refrain from using magic in-flight. It messes with the flight equipment and instruments. Also, apparation is forbidden.' Hermione and Ron looked at each other in slight confusion. 'The crew will freak out if two passengers suddenly disappear in mid-air. All of the rules for muggles apply for the both of you as well obviously. I wish you a very pleasant flight.'

An hour into the flight, Ron began to feel bored. Hermione was reading from her new book, and though Ron had brought a quidditch magazine with him, he didn't really feel like taking it out. The movie playing from the television wasn't very interesting. There were headphones to listen to music, but none of it really was Ron's taste. He had been eating the chocolate, but Hermione refused him near it after he had eaten several large pieces of it within ten minutes. It had been as delicious as she had told him it would be.

Ron glanced to his right. Hermione was comfortably perched on her chair, the book grasped tightly into her experienced hands. Her eyes were moving rapidly over the pages. Ron thought she looked a little stronger than a week ago. Her cheeks were less sunken, and the dark rings beneath her eyes (which had appeared since their arrival at Shell Cottage) were diminishing slightly. She flipped one of the pages. It was a well-practiced movement, which reminded him strongly of the Hermione he had studied for years at Hogwarts. Glancing at her whenever she wasn't looking, Ron had observed her little habits and quirks whenever they were sitting in the common room, or during classes.

'Good book?' he asked.

'Very,' she replied, unwilling to tear her eyes from the page.

'What is it about?'

'A jury in a court of law,' she said absently. Her brow furrowed; she was obviously interrupted by his questions, 'They have to give a verdict about case against a tobacco company.'

'Is it fiction?'

'Yes.' She was definitely distracted now, and her eyes scanned the page to find where she was.

'Tobacco is in cigarettes, right? I think Harry said that once.'

She didn't reply immediately, but stuck her thumb onto one of the pages and closed the book. She turned to him.

'Are you bored?' she asked irritably.

'Yes,' Ron admitted.

'I noticed.'

'Can't we do something together?'

'Like what?' she said.

'A game of exploding snap?' he tried.

'You want to play a game of exploding snap in a plane full of muggles?'

'No,' he said quickly, a grin on his face, 'If you say it like that, it sounds like a pretty bad idea.'

'Anything else?'

'Not that I can think of.'

'In that case, I'm going to continue reading my book, Ronald.'

A half an hour passed. Ron was flipping through the radio channels that were available. None of them played any interesting music. He wondered what music Hermione liked. He had spent most of the past thirty minutes watching her. She was engrossed in her book, and making good progress too. She was already past a third of the book.

Ron realized this was the first time they were alone together for very long time. They had travelled with Harry for a year. After that, they had been at the Burrow. Though they had been able to steal away some private time, there would always be someone around the corner, or barging in at an inopportune moment. They had been buying clothes together, but the shopping centre had been packed with muggles.

He wondered what being alone with Hermione like this would be like. They had done things together before; without Harry. He remembered the trip to Hogsmeade for their apparation practice very well. He had (very cautiously) tried flirting with her then, even though Lavender was still technically his girlfriend. He had complimented her a few times, and offered to pay for her drinks. She had accepted on both accounts, and told him she could borrow her potions essay that evening, which had been the first time in many months that she had allowed him to.

Still, this would not be the same. Hermione was his girlfriend now, and that was bound to change the way they talked and acted around each other. It was like the first day after the war. He had been sitting with her at the breakfast table, looking at her enjoying a nice pudding when she looked up at him. Both of them glanced away automatically, but then Ron realized he no longer needed to. It had taken over a week to get used to it; to not look away from her.

Hermione sighed deeply and closed her book.

'Yes, Ron?' she said a little wearily.

'You don't have to stop reading on my behalf,' Ron said. 'I was just sitting here.'

'You were staring at me.'

'I was thinking.'

'About what?'

'About what it would be like to be with you like we are now. Just the two of us. No parents. No relatives. No friends. No Harry. Just you and me.'

Hermione was quiet for a little while. She turned to face him, looking directly into his eyes. Her lovely brown eyes lingered there for a moment. 'It'll just be like always, I guess.'

'No, it won't,' Ron said, 'Not exactly anyways.'

'What do you mean?'

'This,' he said, swooping in to plant a kiss on her lips. He gently sucked on her lower lip of a moment. When they parted, he noticed that her bottom lip was notably fuller. 'I just wonder what it will be like.'

'I'm not a completely different person now, Ron,' she said, blushing slightly, 'And neither are you.'

'No,' he said, 'But there's no more war. No more school. I know I love you-'

Ron paused for just moment, making note to himself of how he had used the word love. He had said it before, but it remained weird to be able to say it out loud.

'-but I just hope we'll- That we're not-'

Hermione placed a hand on his. 'I think I understand what you are trying to say,' she said, 'You're afraid that we won't be the same now that Voldemort is dead and we don't have any distractions.'

'Yeah,' he said, though he thought it sounded a bit lame like that.

'Do you feel different about me now?' she asked. Her voice was not accusatory or insecure. It was just a question, and he was sure she knew the answer to it.

'No,' he said simply, 'And neither do you, right?'

She smiled and kissed him on his check as an answer.

An hour later, Ron was engaged in an interesting game of questions with Hermione. They had talked for a while about everything that had happened. When Hermione told him how she had modified her parents's memories, he had remarked how little details they knew of each other's past. Hermione had told him he could ask her anything. Since then, they had been asking each other questions in turn.

'Favourite music?' she asked.

'Not sure,' he replied, 'I'm not much of a fan of our type of music. I guess anything with a bit of power in it. Electric guitars, drums, you know? Bill used to play Pearl Jam a lot. I like that.'

'Really?' she said, 'I wouldn't have thought you a fan of muggle music.'

'Yours?'

'I like The Cardigans, and Garbage, and - err- Smashing Pumpkins,' she said, 'No Doubt.'

'I don't know half of those bands,' he admitted, 'When we get back, you should play some of their songs for me.'

'I've got a couple of CD's with me. We can play them on my disk player in a while.'

'Okay,' he said, 'I believe it was your turn.'

'All right,' she said, 'Worst memory?'

He was silent for a little while. 'I guess I'd have to choose between leaving the two of you last winter, and being unable to stop you from being tortured.'

Hermione took the answer almost like a physical blow. She had perhaps meant for the question to be light-hearted, or maybe she had not really considered his possible answers. She fell silent almost instantly.

'Mistaking Lavender for you just after Christmas comes up high too though,' he added, hoping to defuse the situation a little.

'Wait- what?' she said, a grin flashing but obviously confused, 'When did that happen?'

'I was reading about the apparation exams on the bulletin board when I had just arrived back at Hogwarts. She came up behind me and put her hands in front of my eyes, saying "Guess who?".'

'And you said my name?'

'Yes'

'Even though we had not been on speaking terms since October?'

'Yes'

'Ouch.'

'Ouch indeed,' Ron said, 'Not really the welcome back she had hoped for.'

'So why did you say my name?' she asked.

'I had been sitting at the Burrow thinking of you all Christmas. It was a miracle that Harry didn't notice. I guess he was too busy fawning over Ginny.' Hermione chuckled.

'My turn,' he said, 'You just asked five questions in a row.'

'You didn't have to answer any of them except the first.'

'Cheat.' Hermione smiled at him mockingly. 'All right, speaking of cheating: have you ever cheated on an exam?'

'No!' she said, her well-known distaste for cheating on exams clearly ringing in her voice, 'But I have let you copy quite a bit of my history exams if I recall correctly.'

'You couldn't very well let me fail that subject,' Ron said, 'but let me rephrase my question: have you ever used magic to tweak the circumstances at school in your favour?'

Ron was quite proud with this question. Hermione hesitated for a moment, then coolly replied 'no'. Her hesitation was enough for him to know that she had in fact done just that. He also knew that Hermione would not say anything more on the matter. He would have to weed it out from her on the long run.

'Favourite sibling?'

Ron thought about it for a while. Other people had asked that question before, and he had always said he loved each of his siblings equal (exept Percy obviously). In truth, it was quite different.

'Bill will always be my oldest brother,' he said, 'but he's almost ten years older than me. He was off to Hogwarts most of the time. Charley is a bit younger, but he also played with us a bit more. But Charley is a bit of a loner. He liked taking walks outside, which I despised at that point. Still do, mind you! Besides, he was also at Hogwarts most of the time.'

'Percy is, well… Percy. He spent most of his time in his room, reading books and polishing his… prefect badge. We give him a lot of shit, but he's a good guy underneath all of that pompous behaviour. As brothers, we just don't connect that well.'

'George is fickle, you know? You can have these amazing talks with him one day, and then he gives you the cold shoulder the next. He tells you all vacation long that you can have any product from his shop, and then charges you like a regular customer when you get there.'

'So which of them is it?'

'None of them,' Ron said, 'Ginny has always been my favourite. Why else do you think I'm so protective of her?'

'Ginny?' Hermione said in obvious disbelief, 'Ginny Weasley? Short, stocky, red hair-'

'The one and only,' Ron said.

'So why is she your favourite?'

'For ten years, we did nearly everything together. There was not a day that went by that we did not play together. She likes the same things as I do, and she has the same sense of humour.'

They continued asking each other questions for another fifteen minutes. Most of the questions were innocent. Hermione asked him about his youth. She wanted to know what his days looked like, how his mother home-schooled him, and what his favourite past-time had been. He asked her about muggle school. It was perhaps the greatest difference between both of them; Hermione had gone to kindergarten, nursery school, primary school , and had spent some summers at a school camp. Ron had been home-schooled. He had not had any compulsory school before Hogwarts.

Though their schooling had been different, their situation at home had been the same. Hermione's mother had been working part-time to care for her. Ron's mother had been a full-time mum, and having to take care of a household full of boys was a job on its own.

Things got a little awkward when Hermione innocently asked him about his most embarrassing memory. 'It's got to be asking Fleur to the Yule Ball!' she said, a grin flashing on her face.

'No,' Ron said dejectedly, 'I wish it was.'

Hermione's brow furrowed. 'You have gone through something worse than that?'

'Yes', he replied, the memory still vividly etched into his mind. 'It was in the summer between fourth and fifth year. We were at Grimmould Place, and there was a lot of business of the Order going on around the house, with Lupin, Tonks, Snape, Moody, and Dung coming over all the time, having meetings, not to mention Kreacher popping in and out at every inopportune moment. You remember how crowded that place was, right?'

'Well, I had slept in one day, deliberately stalling so I would be last to get into the bathroom. It even worked; I got to use the bathroom last.'

'Why did you want to use the bathroom last?'

'Because then, nobody would interrupt me. Everybody would be downstairs, having breakfast.'

'Okay, so why did you want to be alone?'

'I was- err- looking for a bit of release, so to speak,' Ron said. He was fidgeting with the power cord of his headphones. He wasn't sure anymore if recounting this particular memory was such a good idea.

'Release?' Hermione asked, clearly not understanding his euphemism.

'I needed to relieve myself of some tension.'

'Tension?' Hermione said, 'You mean you were constipated?'

'No Hermione,' he replied, hoping she would understand without him having to spell it out for her, 'I mean like- frustration.'

'I'm sorry, Ron, I don't understand.'

'Bloody hell, Hermione,' he mumbled, 'I was, you know…' He made an unmistakable gesture with his hand. Hermione instantly understood.

'Anyways, I obviously wasn't waiting for company at the door. I was under the shower, minding my own business, when the door suddenly opened.'

'You forgot to lock it?' Hermione gasped.

'No, I locked it! I even locked it magically. That stupid Kreacher had used house elf magic to open it.'

'He walked in on you?'

'Yeah,' he admitted, 'Closely followed by my mother and Fleur. Apparently, mum had forgotten I was still in the shower, and had asked Sirius to send the elf to help clean the bathroom with her and Fleur.'

Hermione didn't reply. He could see it was costing her a lot of effort not to burst into laughter. The corners of her mouth and eyes were trembling. She hid her face behind her hands in an effort to keep impassive.

'You are allowed to laugh,' Ron said, 'If it had been Harry, I would have been rolling on the floor. Alas..'

Hermione sniggered loudly. 'I'm sorry Ron,' she said, unable to keep from laughing, 'It's just- I'm trying to imagine how they would react.'

'Obviously, Fleur high-tailed it out, my mum was angry at me, and the elf began muttering about how the blood traitor was "wasting his worthless seed".'

Hermione let out a full throated bellow of a laugh. She clasped her hands on her mouth wide-eyed as several other passengers looked at her in irritation. It helped her to calm down enough to abate her laughter down to an amused chuckle.

'So what about yours? It can't be worse than mine.'

'You would be surprised,' Hermione said, the last of her laughter dying out.

'Amaze me,' Ron said.

'All right,' she said, 'Do you remember how Fred and George offered me and Ginny a free Patented Daydream Charm on our first visit to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? I thought it would be a good idea to accept their offer. I knew we would be working through a large amount of homework, and you know how I hard it is for me to relax then.'

'So at one point, I'm sitting in the library, and I had just finished my Herbology essay. All seven feet of it. I knew there were some points I should have expanded upon, but my head was swimming with fatigue. You had been poisoned a few nights before, and we were just back on speaking terms. I thought it would be a good idea to use the charm. So I popped one in my mouth, not expecting it to kick in immediately.'

'So there I was, sitting in the library, surrounded by about a million fellow students, having this very vivid daydream.' She looked at him hopefully.

'That's it?' Ron asked, 'That's not even remotely in the neighbourhood of my-'

'Those daydream charms are color-coded,' Hermione said suddenly, 'A fact Fred and George didn't care to mention.'

'Yeah, I think I heard them talking about that once. Green was for dreams where you can fly, blue was for dreams where you were famous-'

'They gave me a red one.'

'Red?'

'My vivid daydream, the one I was blissfully unable to awake out of until it was finished, was a wet one.'

Ron smirked. 'I woke up a half an hour later,' Hermione continued, 'Sweaty, feeling both satisfied and murderous. Most of the students had not noticed, but I swear a couple of seventh year Ravenclaw boys studying for their N.E.W.T.s kept glancing at me all the time.'

Their flight was taking them from west to east. The sun dipped below the horizon at what felt like four 'o clock to Ron. Hermione told him it would be best if he tried to get some sleep, but even though he was still fatigued from everything they had been through the past year, Ron could not rest. He flipped through an airline folder in a pocket of his chair twice, continued to fiddle with the radio, which still played mostly classical music and jazz, neither of which were his cup of tea.

His unease greatly irritated Hermione, who pressed her Discman in his hands.

'Here,' she said, pushing the headphones onto his ears and turning on the device. 'See if you like this.'

Ron leaned back into his chair as the music started playing. Hermione had told him it was a new CD by a band called Nirvana. She assured him that if Ron enjoyed Pearl Jam, he would enjoy Nirvana too. As the CD started playing, Ron recognised the first song from the radio. He had enjoyed the song then, but hadn't heard the name of the band, and so had not been able to listen to more of them.

After an hour, Ron set aside the headphones. Hermione was asleep in the chair next to him. He wondered how a girl like her could walk around with such a brilliant taste for music. He was sure the other girls at school would have hated it (except Ginny and Luna perhaps). He wondered if all of her CD's were as good as this.

Having grown up with his mother ever present, he had mostly listened to her music. He did not mind Celestina Warbeck (her music brought back several nice memories) but it certainly did not make him feel like this music did. When Bill had started playing muggle music, Ron felt rather ashamed listening along with him. He felt like it was somehow wrong to enjoy it, especially since his mother lamented her son's "aggressive, sloppy music". It was only during their fifth year that Ron had first bought a CD of his own.

Ron stretched out his legs. He had been seated for nearly eight hours by now, and his legs were beginning to feel uneasy. He tried shaking them a little, but that solved very little. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got up. The lights in the airplane had been turned down, and most of the passengers were either asleep or watching the movie. He had seen several people get up and move about a little. Ron decided to follow suit. Leaving Hermione asleep in her chair, he crept towards the back of the plane.

He passed a curtain that divided the business class and the economy class seating. Economy class was a lot bigger, but the passengers had a lot less space, he noticed. The chairs were smaller, and spaced closer together. Some passengers had put their chair all the way back into a reclining position, half-forcing the people behind them to do the same.

Slowly, the feeling in his legs returned to normal. He sauntered across the aisle a couple of times, before deciding to visit the loo, after which he returned to his seat. Hermione was still asleep. He plomped down on his seat, causing his chair to sag a little, which roused Hermione from her sleep. An irritated sigh escaped her lips, before sleep took her again. Ron tilted the back of his chair down a little further, then closed his eyes, hoping that he would be able to sleep a little.

He woke up an hour later. He had not dreamt, but still felt rather groggy. Hermione was shaking his arm.

'Wake up, sleepy,' she said, 'The captain just announced that we are going to land.'

'Arewethereyet?' he asked, sleep still numbing his mind.

'We're landing in Kuala Lumpur,' Hermione replied, her hand still shaking him, 'We have a stop-over there.'

An hour later, the plane actually touched down. Hermione told him they would have to stay in the transfer area to wait while the plane was being refuelled. He meekly followed her out of the plane, where they took a seat in a large hallway filled with shops. It was quite modern. There were a lot of Asian people there.

'This is strange,' Hermione said after a while. She had been half-heartedly reading a muggle magazine. 'I can't imagine myself sitting in Asia all of a sudden. Can you?'

'No,' Ron said, 'Half-way across the world.'

'After we arrive in Australia,' she said, 'You will have visited over half the continents of the world. Europe, Africa, Asia, and Australia.'

'Well, I guess I know where I'll take you to for our next vacation.'

'America?' Hermione asked.

'No, the south pole, obviously…'

Hermione swatted him over the head with the magazine. He grinned.

They were back in the plane a couple of hours later. Ron checked the itinerary. It took him a while to decipher most of what it said, but it looked like it would take another five hours to arrive in Darwin. Those five hours seemed to take ages to pass. He was thoroughly bored during each of them. Hermione urged him to sleep, but the sun was already up and his body would not yield to his fatigue. He had sat in his chair, eyes closed, for over an hour when breakfast was served. He was wide awake after a single bite. Hermione had warned him he would not be able to sleep after having breakfast, and she was greatly irritated that he had ignored her protests. His stomach had been growling however, and Ron knew he would definitely not sleep on an empty stomach (last year's camping trip had proven that).

Hermione was still glowering when they exited the plane in Darwin. Ron had to stifle a yawn while they waited for their luggage. Ron positioned himself at the start of the luggage belt, hoping to be the first to get their backpack. It turned out that he was not the only one who had that idea, and he had to spend over fifteen minutes elbowing his way between other passengers. When he returned to Hermione carrying their backpack, Hermione eyed him critically. When he mentioned how pushy people had been, she lashed out at him.

'I told you not to wait for the luggage there!' she snapped as they trotted off to customs, 'So stop whining about it.'

'Hey, I'm not whining!' he replied hotly. His mood not having been improved over the last 24 hours. 'I'm just telling you that the rest of the passengers were pushy!'

'Oh please, Ronald,' she sneered, 'You were as bad as any of them.'

They continued rowing until they left the customs area (the air conditioning stopped right after customs, further enhancing Ron's foul mood) and a man wearing a dark grey suit stepped up to them.

'Ronald,' Hermione said, a little red-faced in anger, 'Why don't you take that backpack and shove it-'

'Miss Granger?' the man said, thankfully interrupting what was bound to be a fascinating storage proposal.

'Err- Yes?'

'My name is Leonard Bernstein,' he replied with a heavy Australian accent while extending his arm to her, 'I'm the ministry official that was sent to help you upon your arrival.'

'Hi,' she said, shaking his hand. Bernstein then extended his hand to Ron, who also shook it.

'I was instructed by your father to ask you a question to verify your identities. It may seem a little superfluous now, but I hope you don't mind. We want to be sure we don't send any of your enemies to your parents. There are still quite a few of them on the loose I believe.'

'Miss Granger,' Bernstein said, 'What did your father discuss with your parents at Diagon Alley before the start of your second year at Hogwarts?'

'The function of the mouth harmonica, and its practical appliance in everyday life.' Ron chuckled a bit. Leave it to his father to want to know about these things. 'He was quite surprised to learn it was a musical instrument.'

'Thank you,' he replied, then turned to Ron, 'Mister Weasley, what was the name of the teddybear which was transfigured by your twin brothers?'

'Mister Boo-boo,' Ron answered, feeling a bit silly.

'Correct on both accounts,' Bernstein replied, 'Would you like to use the portkey today, or would you like to get some rest, and head out to Brisbane tomorrow? Either way, you will only be able to make contact with your parents in a few days' time.'

Hermione turned to Ron, asking him what he preferred. He told her it was really her decision, and that he didn't mind either way. His head was pounding though, and he hoped that whatever decision she made would lead to them checking into a hotel soon.

'Are you feeling up to heading on? A portkey trip is never really comfortable.'

'Sure,' he lied, 'Lead the way.'

Ten minutes later, Hermione, Ron, and Bernstein were standing behind a small building just off from the airport. They were clustered around a hubcap. It was a bit grimy. Ron had placed his hand on the side of it, leaving enough room for Hermione to place her hand comfortable on the top.

'Just a few seconds now,' Bernstein said holding the hubcap with a single finger while he checked his watch with the other, 'Please make sure you are touching the portkey.' He counted down from three, and when he hit zero, the familiar, rather unpleasant feeling of being hooked into the belly his hand simultaneously glued to the portkey. They were spaced evenly apart, so they rarely bumped into each other. Hermione had told him the distance between Darwin and Brisbane was roughly 3000 kilometres, which meant it was a lengthy trip.

Ron landed flat on his stomach. His headache was now in full-swing, thrumming painfully at the front of his head and behind his eyes. His hands had cramped up underway, and with no way to stretch them, they had been making an already uncomfortable flight unbearable. When they finally arrived, he could not find the strength to straighten out. His backpack had pushed him down even further.

Hermione rushed over to him almost immediately. She quickly pushed the backpack off of his shoulders, then helped him into a sitting position.

'Are you okay?' she said in worry, 'Oh, I'm sorry Ron, we should have stayed in Darwin.'

'No,' he said, 'Turn around.'

When she did, she saw. They were on a hill overlooking the city. They could see the city centre with its numerous towering office buildings. The river was also visible.

'We're there, love,' he said, as he painfully got up, 'We're there!'