Harry closed his eyes and tipped his head up, the sun beating down on him as he sat on the beach. He'd never been abroad before but he was enjoying it, having found a secluded resort where people didn't ask questions - one benefit of being so rich he supposed. He finally understood the appeal of warm weather - things just seemed so much more relaxed, and all problems seemed smaller when the sun was shining, and you didn't have to constantly be on the lookout for rain. As much as he had loved Hogwarts, and had loved being in Scotland, maybe one day he'd settle away from Britain. The idea of being permanently away from the prying eyes of the press only made the idea more attractive. A flush of guilt spread through him as he remembered that everyone at home would still be dealing with the press, well, that Hermione would be dealing with everything if he was honest with himself.
His thoughts had been drifting back to his female best friend a lot recently. Since he'd been away he had spent the majority of his time sitting on the beach thinking, remembering and trying to look to his future. It still felt a little odd to be planning his future when such a short time ago he hadn't known whether he would have a future - it was invigorating, just having that luxury of time, and the knowledge that no one was trying to kill him for the first time in his life. He lay back on the sand and opened his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the sunshine, before focusing on the palm leaves above his head, and the blue sky he could see through them. Hermione would love this, although she'd probably have a pile of enormous books with her for light reading…Harry thought wistfully and mentally scolded himself for yet again drifting back to thoughts of Hermione instead of sorting himself out. Sitting up again he gave up hope of making any further progress and picked up the blank postcard and pen sitting beside him on a towel in the sun and began to write.
`Mione
He paused - what did he have to say? He sat chewing the end of the pen, he'd said all the usual pleasantries in his previous postcards and he knew Hermione would have been disappointed with their lack of content. If he was truly honest with himself he wanted her to be here with him, thinking of things to do, telling him what she'd read, smiling that mysterious smile of hers. He thought to himself about her different smiles for different situations, his particular favourite being that little half smile she only smiled for him, her eyes twinkling with private jokes. He hated that when he'd last seen her he had made her cry. Harry opened his eyes with a start, having not remembered closing them, and he suddenly knew exactly what he wanted to say to Hermione.
There's no combination of words that I could put on the back of a postcard, No song that I could sing, but, I could try for your heart.
This time by myself has made me realise that Dumbledore was right all those years ago, love really is the answer, at least for most of the questions in my heart - why are we here? Where do we go? How come it's so hard? It's not always easy, and life can be deceiving. The only thing I know - the only constant in my life - is that it's always better when we're together.
Harry didn't even reread his words, he just grabbed his towel, and with a grin that left several young girls on the beach staring after him in awe, he jogged back to his room and grabbed some shoes, a leather money pouch, shoved his sunglasses onto his face and prepared to use some magic for the first time in three weeks. At least he could be thankful to Tom Riddle for one thing, Harry Potter would never have trouble detecting magic - he could sense it from far away - and he knew that he emitted highly powerful magic. When Hermione had run up to him at the end of the final battle, she had looked at him thoughtfully before throwing her arms around him. "You've got that magical aura Harry - well, you've always had it some extent, but it's amazing - Harry, you're more powerful than Dumbledore." He must have looked terrified at this idea until as always she had put things into perspective. "That doesn't mean anything unless you want it to - but Harry, just think of all the good you could do." That little seed of an idea planted in his mind, put another smile on his face as he followed the traces of magic until he found the nearest magical village, the idea slowly taking form in his mind.
Half an hour later Harry grinned to see an owl fly overhead. He saw it fly through the window of a shop not far down the small but distinctly different street. He entered the owlery and was reminded of Sirius as he saw the exotic birds gathered there sharing posts with owls of every shape and size. His heart gave a small pang, but he was happy to realise that his overwhelming feelings now on remembering his godfather were happy ones, thinking of the good times - yet another progression that would have taken him many years without a certain witch's direction. He shook his head. How could he possibly have been so blind. He wanted to see her to admit just how stupid he had been, and to find out how she felt - had there been a deeper meaning to things she had said and done over the years?
Sending her the postcard didn't seem like enough anymore, and buying a piece of parchment and an envelope from the clerk he quickly scribbled a message on the envelope, before holding his hand steady over the piece of parchment and silently casting a familiar spell. Gathering the envelope and postcard together he approached the counter and quickly paid an extortionate amount to engage the services of a large orange coloured bird. He left the shop and wandered the others on the street, buying himself a wizard camera, having always wanted one, but subconsciously not wanting to willingly create more memories to be left behind should he fail to fulfil the prophecy in the way he hoped. He then wandered back along the beach to the resort, pausing to take a picture of the view of the beautiful ocean. He studiously ignored the Cornish pixies who appeared to have taken residence in his stomach, and fought the urge to acknowledge the little voice in his head who sounded remarkably like Ron that was shouting `what have you done you great prat?' Harry decided that a mature response was called for and hummed a tune he'd once heard on the radio to block out the voice. "Even Ron would look worried if I told him I was hearing voices in my head again - oh bugger - now I'm talking to myself" Harry chuckled and sank onto the sand, ruminating on the fact that he was clearly a lost cause.
--
Hermione was fast asleep when she heard the magical bell ring in her flat - still half asleep she got out of bed and went to the front door until she realised the bell meant someone was at the window. Her bleary eyes flew open as she saw the majestic orange bird sitting patiently on the windowsill. She rushed across the room, grabbing a handful of bird treats from the table as she went, and opened the window, knowing that logically this letter could only be from one person, and that worried her as Harry had been sending his postcards through the muggle post until now. She gratefully took the postcard from the pouch on the birds leg and waited for it to leave, but by its tilted head she guessed there was something else for her - she withdrew an envelope from the pouch, and the bird flew off with an elegant cry. She shut the window and took a seat in an armchair by the window. A quick muttered `lumos' and she was able to look at the postcard in her hand, the image showed an idyllic beach much like a previous card Harry had sent. She flipped it over expecting to hear more promises that he was ok followed by a comment about the weather, what she read knocked all the air out of her.
She read and reread and reread the postcard, a smile slowly spreading from her toes to the tips of her curly hair. It was the most beautiful letter she had ever been sent. She then remembered the envelope, picking it up she saw that on the front just three words were written. "Think like Sirius" she read aloud. "What?" then she smiled thoughtfully, picked up her wand from beside her, tapped the envelope and said "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good", she grinned as words appeared on the envelope in her hand.
`Mione
It may sound just like something people say in postcards but I truly wish you were here. I'm hoping that maybe you wish you were here too…or maybe just that you wish you were with me? The parchment in this envelope is a Portkey - it's not timed - if you want to come it will bring you here as soon as you touch it.
Missing you
Harry
If the smile on her face before she read Harry's words was a happy now, the smile spread across her face now was beatific. Bless Harry and his complete lack of understanding of time zones, she thought glancing at the clock which read 3am. As if she needed to think about her decision, morning couldn't come soon enough for Hermione who had already packed what little clothing she had that was suitable for the tropics into a magically shrunken bag and was tapping her foot impatiently as she watched the clock tick by. She was waiting outside the shopping centre as it opened, and having a bought a few essentials and two hastily chosen bikinis she was practically jogging around the corner to find a secluded spot to disappear from. She paused for a moment before touching the parchment, knowing that she was about to repay Harry's favour in reference to time zones, but she'd had enough of waiting. She pulled the parchment from the envelope and felt a familiar tugging from behind her belly button as London faded behind her.
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