Author's Note: Thank you for the kind reviews and welcoming me to Portkey. The only other thing I should probably add here is that this story took shape from a one-shot, so if it seems an awful lot like a bunch of vignettes at first, that's why.
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Chapter 2: Adventures in Australia
"I am never going to fly on one of those air-plans again!" Ron moaned as he wobbled out of the Sydney airport. Harry and Hermione grinned-air travel had definitely not agreed with their friend. His ears had popped terribly once the plane reached its normal altitude, and the crowded coach seating had left him feeling somewhat claustrophobic and unable to sleep. The poor lad was now functioning solely on adrenaline. Harry had never been on an airplane either, but he had heeded Hermione's warning to chew gum after take-off, and he was already so used to avoiding sleep, that going 36 hours without it was no issue. Hermione, always prepared, had taken a sleeping pill, and although she looked as frumpy as the other passengers, she was certainly better-rested than her two companions.
"Ron, I think it's called an airplane," Harry was saying as Hermione hailed a taxi.
"Close enough," Ron countered, "Either way, I am definitely not traveling that way again."
"Well, I hope you've got other arrangements made," Hermione remarked as they slid into the taxi and she gave the man an address. "Because I can't get my parents back any other way." She paused, "if they want to come back at all."
"Of course they will; you're their daughter," Ron replied, attempting to sound reassuring, while Harry nodded in agreement. Hermione nodded, slightly teary-eyed, and quickly regained her composure.
"Right, well, once we get checked in, we'll need to go over the plan again."
"Oh come on, Hermione, we just got here. We could at least take a day off and explore," Ron complained. "Please?"
Hermione looked like she was about to say something, but seemed to have changed her mind, as she simply nodded and stared out the window.
As it turns out, Harry had remained oddly silent because he'd fallen asleep. Grinning, Ron reached across his friend and tapped Hermione on the shoulder.
"Oy, Hermione, what if we drew on his face?"
The girl rolled her eyes, but as she reached for a pen, Harry jerked awake, scowling.
"I heard that!"
They were still laughing when the cab came to a stop.
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The unpacking process was a brief affair-they had only brought a week's worth of luggage each, and being able to use magic was definitely coming in handy. And besides, they hardly knew what clothing they'd need here-August in Australia was, after all, not the same sort of August that Britain had. Still, the sun was shining through the blinds pleasantly enough. As Ron snored away - just a short nap, he swore - Harry was left to his own thoughts as he finished unpacking.
With a short flick, the closet doors shut themselves, and Harry flopped down on the other bed. A wave of exhaustion flooded his brain, but ebbed away before sleep actually came. That had happened several times lately, and the inability to sleep was beginning to take a toll on him. Nevertheless, Harry was hardly eager to sleep unless he could be sure it would come without the nightmares. Though the contents of the dreams varied, they always ended with someone he loved dead, and left him feeling guilty for hours afterwards. He'd considered asking Hermione to make a Dreamless Sleep Draught, but had been unwilling to admit that the nightmares were so bothersome.
Several times he suspected that Hermione wanted to broach the subject with him - the dark circles under his eyes had not gone unnoticed by her, of course - but he had either changed the subject or she had decided against it. Either way, she and Ron spent so much time squabbling that he doubted she had much time to think of anything else. At those times, he wished (and then reproached himself for it) that she and Ron weren't dating, because they hadn't argued this often before.
Dating was quickly becoming too much work. Ginny was going back to Hogwarts, and he wasn't even sure he how he wanted to proceed with her. If he took too much time deciding, he might decide he did love her and she might have found another bloke. If he decided too quickly just to keep her, would he regret it? She had promised they would keep in touch, if that was what he wanted (and hinted rather strongly that he should). Naturally, he still found her attractive - how could he not? - but she no longer provided the idyllic escape that had made her so irresistible. Not to mention, he wasn't even sure he wanted that kind of relationship just yet, with anyone.
Sure, the idea of eventually settling down was appealing, but not nearly as appealing as the solving his immediate problems-finding a place to live, working out his role in Teddy's life, getting a job, and getting over his nightmares.
Maybe it was….
"Harry, Ron, are you two in here?" Hermione called softly as she stepped into the boys' room. She definitely wasn't shocked to see Ron asleep, but she was surprised to find Harry sleeping as well, and what's more, with a peaceful expression on his face. Smiling tenderly at them both, she exited quietly and returned to her own room. Their excursions could wait for a little longer.
Besides, it looked like it had been ages since Harry slept. Hermione couldn't help but feel a clench of worry in her stomach when she looked at his haggard face. They had spent so much time together that even the slightest expression now betrayed his anxieties, and there had been plenty of cause for worry. At least, she told herself as much. After spending nearly seven years worrying about Harry, it was a hard habit to kick.
Though fighting with Ron did take up plenty of that time. It wasn't like they couldn't fix that; it was just, almost every time he said something she felt the urge to snap at him. Why couldn't he be the same Ron that had listened to her and been so considerate just last year? She was unhappy in this almost-relationship, but she felt downright miserable at the thought of losing him as a friend. So she remained stuck hoping he would want to end it too and feeling guilty for pretending she wanted to keep trying.
When compared to the problems she might have getting her parents back, however, her rocky relationship with Ron seemed almost laughable. People got together and broke up all the time, didn't they? Practical, rational, bookish Hermione, it seemed, was still a silly girl underneath after all.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep beep beep beep.
The alarm she had set to remind her to wake up Harry and Ron went off, and with a little more force than necessary, Hermione shut it off. Tonight, they would relax and explore the city. And tomorrow, tomorrow they would find her parents.
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In retrospect, she probably should have realized it would take more than a day or two to find her parents, restore their memories, and get them up to date on the magical world their daughter lived in. And she probably should have remembered that the problem with restoring someone's memories was that you had to see them without their memories in order to do so. Witnessing her parents' lives without her in it had unexpectedly thrown her. In fact, she had actually fled the waiting room of their dentist office before Harry (shortly followed by Ron) had to chase her down and bring her back.
It had been a strong reminder of just how much her boys mattered to her, no matter how messy things were with Ron. Harry didn't have to say a thing for her to know he felt sorry for her, and assure her he was there. Even Ron had draped an arm around her shoulder, and offered to go with her to talk to her parents. And even though restoring her parents' memories was something she was determined to do on her own, remembering they cared had provided her with the strength to carry out her mission.
So now, as she repacked her bags and prepared to return to England (now with the knowledge her parents would be coming back in a few weeks as well) after two weeks in sunny Australia, Hermione couldn't help but wonder just where things would go from here. They would all move in together, and then there would be decorating the flat, and job hunting for the boys, and probably owls from the press and the ministry. Her parents would move back to England after a `sabbatical' in Australia, restore relationships with their old friends, and resume their dental work.
But what would she do? Would she really, as she had snapped at Ron, take her N.E.W.T.s? Join up at the Ministry? Further study?
She could do whatever she wanted. There was no pressure to stop a psychotic wizard bent on killing her best friend. She no longer had to fear for her own life, or she wouldn't once the last few Death Eaters were rounded up. The possibilities were really and incredibly open to her.
The huge feeling of possibility was enough to engulf her, and yet, it was an incredibly comforting (although terrifying) feeling.
"What are you thinking about, Hermione?" Harry murmured as the plane began to soar over the Pacific. Ron had, in the end, gone on the plane with them, but had nicked one of Hermione's sleeping pills and was therefore asleep.
"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about what I wanted to do when we get back."
Harry nodded as Hermione continued, "You know, we could do anything we wanted."
"Even be a famous celebrity like Lockhart and smile like a prat all the time," Harry teased, but Hermione only smiled.
"Anything's possible."
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