The world stopped spinning and Hermione landed quietly and graciously on a small strip of sandy beach. She looked down at the little ginger sweet in the palm of her hand, the kind designed to fight off nausea. It was more of a habit than a necessity that she carried them these days. She hadn't gotten sick from a portkey in a long time.

It was strange to think back on her first experience with them at the quidditch World Cup in her fourth year. At the time she'd thought that she'd simply never get used to them. She'd watched enviously as Cedric and his father had landed graciously while she'd flopped down in a pile of limbs. It was only four years ago but it felt like lifetime to Hermione.

When she'd left London it had been dark outside but here in Australia the sun was shining down in a blazing hot ray. She could feel sweat beginning to build at her collar, making her hair stick of the back of her neck, as she walked up the narrow stone path towards the little house on the hill.

Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped and she could hear the gentle sounds of the ocean slapping onto the sand over and over again. "If we ever win the lottery" her mother always used to say "I think we should move to Australia, I've always liked the sound of living by those glorious beaches. Paradise every day, reading in the sand. What do you say 'Mione? Wouldn't it be lovely?"

It was lovely and tears began to well in her eyes as she thought that at least her mother had gotten this. She'd lost her daughter but at least she had her dream. She wiped away the tears with the back of her hands as she approached the door and took a deep breath, steeling herself to knock.

"Monica!" She heard her father shout "Monica darling the door!" For a moment there was silence and then footsteps and suddenly the door was flung open and Hermione was face to face with her mother. All of the rehearsed words fell from her lips as she looked at her.

"Are you okay dear?" Mrs Granger asked looking concerned and Hermione had to swallow away the lump in her throat at the familiarity of it.

"Erm yes, hi sorry. I lost my friend I was just wondering if I could use your phone to call him and get him to pick me up?"

Her mother's eyes softened and she looked down at the girl with sympathy etched onto her face. "Oh your poor thing, yes of course, of course come right in."

It worked, like it always did, Hermione's parents were too kind hearted to turn down a stranger in distress. She followed her into the kitchen where she could see her father through the windows, clipping away at the branches of a tree in the garden. "The phones just in the hallway" Mrs Granger told her, "would you like some tea?"

Hermione nodded and quickly slipped out into the hallway so that she wouldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes. It was just such a familiar thing, her mum making her tea. As a little girl she'd sit with her hands tucked under her legs, feet swinging wildly as she told her mum all about how her day at school had been and her mum would make tea. She worried that she'd never have that ever again, not properly anyway.

She waited in the hall for five minutes before ducking back into the kitchen. "Did you manage to get hold of them?" Mrs Granger asked as she passed her a cup. Hermione nodded "yes thank you so much" she waited until she turned her back to slip the vial of potion into her mums tea.

"What's your name again?"

"Hermione."

She wished for a flicker of recognition but there was none. "Oh that's lovely, I've always like unique names. In fact - WENDELL."

Hermione's dad popped his head around the open kitchen door.

"This is Hermione, didn't you always say if we'd had a daughter you'd have called her that?"

Mr Grangers eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically "yes yes I did, I always thought it was quite a clever name. It's the feminine version of Hermes you know? I've always like Greek mythology, Hermes was the god of luck. Your parents are lucky to have their own little good luck charm!"

Hermione's heart twisted and she took a sip of tea to avoid the stinging sensation. "Yeah" she said weakly "I guess they are."

Mrs Granger rolled her eyes fondly at her husband "not everyone is interested in Greek mythology you know" she teased "you'll bore the poor girl to death."

Hermione remembered sitting on the arm of her dad's chair as a child. "Tell me the Greek stories again" she'd beg and he'd smile and ruffle her hair "anything for my little lucky star."

Hermione's mother smiled as she turned back toward her "it's nice to see another Brit out here" she said conversationally "are you on holiday?"

Just as Hermione was about to answer Mrs Granger took a sip of tea and Hermione's heart clenched. She wasn't a superstitious person but she crossed her fingers under the table nevertheless. She just wanted them to remember her. Even if their past memories of her never resurfaced she wanted to be able to come back tomorrow and for them to remember the mysterious girl from yesterday. But of course they never would. Hermione's spell had taken more than just their memories, it had taken away their ability to remember her long term at all, even after the spell.

She would go home and slowly they would forget the strange girl who came to use their phone and she would be free to come and ask again the next time she visited. It was heartbreaking but she couldn't stay away. She waited to see if the potion had any effects, waited for that flicker of recognition to pass her mother's face but it never did.

An hour later she was back on that sandy beach closing her eyes and letting the salty air roll over her tongue before she touched the portkey.

The first streams of light were just beginning to thread across the sky when she landed back in London. The air was no longer salty but instead thicker with pollution and grime and she put her head down as she hurried towards Grimmauld Place. Even with just the low light of the street lamps to go off of she could see the figure sitting on the steps, his silhouette highlighting his hunched shoulders and inky black hair.

He'd waited for her, like he had done last time and the time before and the one before that. Her heart unclenched a little as she smiled softly at the sight. It was nice to have someone care, someone take half of the pain and help her carry the load of it.

They didn't speak as she followed him into the kitchen in what was becoming their ritual. This time she made the tea, thinking of her mother's hands pouring the water into the teapot the whole time.

"So" Regulus asked once they were sat down across from one another at the long table, cups clutched in clenched hands against the slight chill of the basement kitchen "how was it?"

She shook her head and instantly he understood. The potion had been a failure.

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand briefly before pulling back. He knew by now that she never wanted to talk about it. "Tell me something else" she'd begged the second night he'd seen her post a visit to her parents "tell me anything, tell me something about you."

So that's what he'd done and it was what he did now. "The sorting hat considered putting me in Ravenclaw" he confessed "but it said my desire for self preservation within my family made me more of a Slytherin overall."

She was grateful for the subject change and the corners of her lips twisted into a wry smile. "It wanted to put me in Ravenclaw too" Hermione told him "but it said that my courage and bravery to step into a world I'd never been apart of before with such determination made me more of a gryffindor."

"You'd have been much better in Ravenclaw" he sniffed "a more acceptable house than the lions den for sure."

Hermione rolled her eyes "better than the snake pit" she countered.

He smirked at her and Hermione's stomach flipped unconsciously. "Then how come we won the quidditch cup two years in a row? Naturally that just screams of our superiority."

She leaned across the table towards him, flipping her long dark curls over her shoulder "maybe that's how things were in the seventies" she teased "but where I come from Slytherin didn't win squat and our team would probably still kick your ass, old man."

His eyes glinted and his smirk grew even wider somehow "so brash" he drawled "you Gryffindors are all the same, all bark and no bite."

Hermione grinned "I assure you my bites just as harsh as my bark…ask Rita Skeeter she'll tell you I'm very much not all talk no action."

Regulus leaned forwards and Hermione could smell the expensive notes of his cologne lingering in the air. "You can bite me any day, darling if you'd like to prove that theory."

She felt a hot flush creep up her neck and he sat back and crossed his arms, a satisfied smile pulling at his lips.

"Idiot" she muttered and rolled her eyes and he laughed, the sound of it made her want to laugh too and she bit back her smile.

She didn't think of her parents, she didn't of the war, she didn't think of the uncertainty of the future and the pain of the past. For the first time in a long long time she was just a teenage girl being teased by a teenage boy. Sitting in a kitchen, drinking tea while the world was asleep. It was easy and it was beautiful.