"Goodbye, Ron."

Hermione turned and walked away, leaving behind her life in England as she made her way toward the airport terminal, bound for Australia and the life her parents had chosen in Sydney. Ron simply stood there, too stunned at the finality of her words to respond with anything but an open-mouthed stare. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned back toward the car. His father was leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest and a shrewd look on his face.

"I know, I know," Ron grumbled, ignoring the look as he began to open the door. Arthur Weasley shut it with a slight cough.

"So you're just letting her go then?" he asked. "I thought you were going to talk to her, work something out."

"I tried," Ron muttered. "I would have gone with her, but I couldn't say it. I couldn't say anything."

Arthur put an arm around his shoulder, and though he was far too old for such a thing, Ron felt comforted by the gesture and leaned into it.

"What did you talk about?" his father asked gently. Trying to gather his thoughts, Ron remembered the day Hermione had first told him she was thinking of leaving…


"Ron?" Hermione asked, looking up from her book. They were sitting in the garden of the Burrow, enjoying a quiet hour alone by the pond before Sunday dinner. Hermione had brought a book on magical law, and Ron had brought the latest Quidditch Weekly. It was a rare moment of respite from a manic schedule of work and wedding preparations: Harry and Ginny's wedding was two weeks away, and Mrs. Weasley was constantly ordering everyone around. They had escaped to the garden for a short break before they were certain to be rounded up for something.

"Hm?" Ron asked, half-listening as he scanned over the season stats for the Canons. He glanced at the Harpies as well; it was his sister's team, after all, and he was curious how things looked for the Canon's rivals.

"Ron," Hermione repeated. She cleared her throat, and when Ron looked up, she was giving him a look that clearly asked him to put down his magazine and listen. He sat up and gave her a sheepish grin with his full attention.

"Well," she started again, "I'm planning on going to Australia."

Ron nodded, unsurprised. Five years ago, Hermione's parents had decided to return to Australia, having enjoyed the life they had developed over the year their daughter had been hunting Horcruxes. They had discovered a new happiness with their small business in Sydney, and although their memories had been restored and they had forgiven Hermione for casting the spell to protect them, they had soon moved back to Australia and restarted their business. Hermione visited them regularly, but Ron knew she missed them and had hoped to visit before the winter holidays.

"When? he asked. "Not until after the wedding, I assume."

"Of course," she said, not looking at him. "I'm leaving the next day."

"The next day!" Ron exclaimed, sitting up straighter. "But that's two weeks away! What's the rush?"

Hermione was silent, and Ron was startled to see her eyes tearing up.

"I'm not visiting," she whispered, her lower lip trembling as she looked away again. "I'm moving."


Ron shook his head as he remembered that awful announcement. Hermione had run into
the house; he had sat back in shock, and by the time he had returned to the Burrow, Hermione had already made her excuses to Molly Weasley and Apparated home, leaving Ron unable to explain to his parents what had just happened.

He had followed her, of course, and that conversation had been even worse…


"Why did you leave?" Ron asked. He was sitting in the living room of the flat she had rented in Diagon Alley after finishing seventh year and taking a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She was in the kitchen and did not answer right away.

"I'm sorry, I just wasn't up to staying for dinner," she finally replied, handing him a cup of tea.

"Why?" he asked again. "What did you mean, you're moving? To Australia?"

She nodded, watching his face.

"In two weeks?" Ron continued without waiting for her answer. "Why haven't you said anything before?"

"I'm sorry, Ron," she replied, shaking her head. " I wanted to, but it was so hard, what with the wedding preparations and your new job and everything. I know it's sudden, but it's done. I'm moving to Sydney."

"Why?" he demanded once more, dreading the answer.

Hermione sighed and looked away, much as she had at the Burrow. "I…I need a change. I just don't feel like there's anything keeping me here anymore. I'm tired of my job, I'm tired of living alone, I'm tired—"

"Of me?" Ron accused. "That's it, isn't it? You're tired of me."

Hermione's eyes flashed as she set down her cup. "No, Ron, I'm not. Not everything is about you, you know."

Ron looked into his teacup and grumbled. "Then why move halfway across the world? How can you be tired of a job you've been at for less than a year?" Having done all she could to further her work with S.P.E.W., Hermione had moved to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement the previous winter. She had recently begun to work with the Wizengamot on changing old wizarding laws, rarely enforced but still legal, that favored pureblood witches and wizards.

"It's not quite what I thought," Hermione replied evasively. "And there's nothing else keeping me here, Ron." She stood up and shrugged. "Not really. Aside from my job, things haven't changed much since we left school, and I just don't feel satisfied anymore. I want to get away, start over, and try something new."

Again Ron was quick to anger. "What about us? That's not worth staying for?"

"What about us, Ron?" Hermione asked wearily. "We hardly see each other anymore. You're spending all your time at the shop now, and I'm busy with my job. There hardly is an 'us' at the moment. This is the first real conversation we've had in weeks!"

"I thought you wanted me to work at the shop," Ron pointed out, setting down his cup and raising his eyebrows. "You said it was a better fit than working at the Ministry, and that you wouldn't have to worry as much. In fact, I remember you saying you didn't want to see me at the Ministry every day for the rest of our lives."

Hermione waved her hands dismissively. "I know, and I was right: you're a natural at the shop, and I'm glad I don't have to worry about some rogue Death Eater killing you on a mission. And I'll admit I do miss seeing you at work, but I didn't realize…" She trailed off, shrugging again.

"Realize what?" Ron asked.

"I didn't realize how much more time the shop would take," she said. "You're always working now."

"It's not like you have loads of spare time," Ron retorted.

"I have just as much as usual," Hermione replied, unflustered. "Your schedule has changed, though. We never see each other anymore. We haven't been out properly in months. Things are just…different."

"Then I'll make time," Ron said, standing and striding over to her with three quick steps. "I'll tell George he can't keep working me so hard with so little pay—and since he won't pay me more, he'll have to let me work less." He grinned, earning a small smile from Hermione in return. He wanted to hold her, stroke her hair, but she crossed her arms over her chest, distancing him. "Don't leave because I'm working too much. That's just too twisted around."

"It's more than that," she sighed, moving away. He knew he must be missing something, but couldn't imagine what it was. What wasn't she telling him?

"What about the Wizengamot? I thought that was important to you."

"It is, but I'm ready to move on."

"How?" Ron asked, mystified. "What are you going to do in Australia? Work in the Muggle world with your parents?"

"I've already got a job," she said. "Muggle Liason Office."


That had set him off. Hermione had worked so hard fighting for the rights of house elves, witches, and wizards, and now she was thinking about changing paths to work with Muggles? After he had quit his job as in the Auror Office to make her happy, she was going to just up and change hers without talking to him? And then move to Australia on top of it? Somehow the conversation had devolved into yelling, and after throwing him out, Hermione hadn't talked to him for over a week.

"Ron?" he father prodded him, bringing him out of his daydream. "There's still time. She hasn't left yet."

"She won't listen," said Ron, staring blankly into the airport terminal. "I messed up."

"So fix it," said his father, also gazing into the crowds. A security officer frowned and began to move toward them, waving them away from the curb. Arthur Weasley cast a silent spell, and the officer moved in the other direction, leaving them for another few minutes. "You do want to, don't you?"

"Of course!" Ron exclaimed, roused from his dull stupor. "More than anything. I just don't know how."

"Well, think about your last conversation with her," said Arthur, glancing at him over his glasses. "What did you talk about?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "The move, of course. "

"Were you really talking about her moving?" asked Arthur. "Or something else?"

Ron thought back to their conversation from the previous day…


"Ron, this is just something I have to do. For me." Hermione was busy bustling around her flat, packing the last of her things for her trip—no, her move to Sydney. She had sent quite a bit by wizarding means the week before, and was left only a few suitcases for the airplane. Why she was flying by Muggle means was a mystery to Ron, as it would take almost an entire day of travel to arrive. Hermione said she had always enjoyed flying, though, and was looking forward to curling up with a good book, watching the in-flight movie, and sleeping off the rest of the time in the air.

"What about me?" Ron asked, trying hard not to kick at Crookshanks as he wound around his legs. He doubted the Kneazle would miss him, but the animal was certainly putting on like it would.

"I told you, it's not about you," Hermione said, sounding irritated.

"Then why are you breaking up with me?" Ron asked. "It's like you're moving to the other side of the world to get away from me."

"I'm not trying to get away from you," she replied. "I just want to try something new."

"You said that last week," grumbled Ron. "Try something new here."

"Ron, it's not sa—" She stopped herself. "I've done everything I can here." Looking at him with sympathy, she added, "I'll miss you, too, if it's any consolation."

"Consolation?" Ron snorted. "No, not really. Especially since I don't believe you."

Instead of blowing up him as she might have, Hermione shrugged, retreating once more, and continued to pack, closing one suitcase before starting on the next. Ron tried another tactic.

"Why leave tomorrow? Why not wait until Harry and Ginny get back from their trip?"

"I've already talked to her and Harry. I'll say my goodbyes tonight at the wedding," Hermione said softly. "And I'm sorry I can't see them back, but I couldn't get any time off from the Ministry in Sydney. They want me to start immediately."

"Bollocks," snapped Ron. "They'd understand if you took a few extra days to stay with family."

"You're not family," Hermione pointed out, looking him straight in the eyes for once.

"We might as well be," Ron replied. "You're like a sister to Harry and Ginny."

"But I'm not, not really," Hermione sighed. Ron wondered why the statement made her so sad. "And they'll be fine without me. They've got each other now."

Ron grabbed her hand. "I won't. Who am I going to talk to, hang out with while they're off snogging like there's no tomorrow?"

And finally she smiled, although it was a small, sad smile. "Oh, I'm sure there will be someone. George? Neville? Luna, perhaps?"

"Luna?" Ron made a face."I don't want end up hunting snorkle-horned crumpkacks—I want to be with you!"

Hermione took her hand from Ron's and went back to the bedroom. "You had your chance to be with me."

"What the hell does that mean?" Ron called after her. He gave in and kicked at Crookshanks, who hissed and scurried away, winding himself around Hermione's legs as she came back and tossed more clothing into her suitcase and slammed it shut.

"It means what it means: you had your chance." She shrugged and picked up Crookshanks, whispering to him as the cat glared at Ron.

"I had my chance at what?" Ron demanded.

"If you don't know, then it's no use working it out now. It's too late." Hermione set Crookshanks down and put her hand to Ron's face. "And that's okay. I understand. I'll be okay on my own."

"On your own?" Ron repeated. He had never felt as clueless as he had the last two weeks. It was if Hermione were talking in riddles, always refusing him a straight answer. What did she want him to figure out for himself? And why couldn't she just tell him?

She didn't answer, but turned away instead. "I'm leaving after breakfast tomorrow, Ron. I'm sorry."

"At least let me take you to the airpark," Ron said, watching her and holding back tears. "I know you hate taking a cab, and dad loves the place."

Hermione smiled, her eyes bright. "Thanks, Ron. Now, let's get ready for a wedding."


"And you still haven't figured out what she was talking about?" asked Arthur Weasley, studying him carefully. "What you missed?"

"Dad, if I did, would I be standing here with you?" Ron shook his head. "I'm thick with this stuff, and everyone knows it. If she wants something, she should just tell me."

Arthur Weasley chuckled. "Women aren't like that, son. Especially when it comes to this."

"To what?" Ron narrowed his eyes at his father, who was grinning. "Dad! Do you know what she's on about?"

"I could make a pretty good guess."

"Could you share that pretty good guess with a bloke?"

Arthur took off his glasses and pretended to clean them, still smiling mysteriously. "Ron, what's going on in Hermione's life right now?"

"Harry and Ginny just got married," Ron answered, not sure where his father was going. "And the Wizengamot is opening discussion on the new law Hermione's been working on, only she's moving to Australia."

"Never mind the Wizengamot. Has Hermione talked about the wedding much?"

"Loads, yes."

"And has she talked about things like rings and dresses and houses and children and other stuff like that? More than usual?" continued Arthur.

Ron thought about it: yes, she had, but Ron had assumed it was all related to yet another Weasley wedding. It would be the second one in three years, not to mention numerous classmates. It was bound to come up more often than normal. He had been more focused on her sudden announcement to move.

"Yes, but…" Ron trailed off, suddenly realizing where his father's questions were leading. "Oh."

"Exactly," said Arthur. "Hermione has marriage on her mind. Have you ever thought about it?"

"Sure," stammered Ron, suddenly embarrassed to be talking about such a thing with his father. He and Hermione had talked about it a few times, but only casually, and usually only when someone else they knew was getting married. For some reason, he had always put off the serious conversation about getting married; now he wished he hadn't, since it appeared his lack of commitment had finally pushed Hermione away.

"With Hermione?" pressed Arthur.

"I couldn't imagine anyone else," said Ron, his face burning up.

"That settles it, then," said Arthur. He replaced his glasses and stood up straight. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small ring and handed it to Ron.

"Are you proposing, Dad?" Ron joked, taking the beautiful ring. It was a simple diamond set with two rubies on either side; Ron had never seen it before.

"I'm not, but maybe you should," said Arthur. "That was your great-grandmother's, and I brought it just in case something like this came up. You had better hurry before Hermione makes it through scrutiny and it's too late."

Ron suddenly knew what he father was talking about and felt the flush drain from his face as reality sunk in. "It's security," he murmured, turning the ring over in his hand. "And you really think this is the answer?"

"Do you love her?" asked his father.

"Yes," said Ron. "I miss her already."

"Then stop her. Go!" He even pushed Ron toward the sidewalk. "Good luck!" He got back in the car and began to pull away.

"Wait! Dad!" cried Ron, running back to the car and putting his head through the window. "What do I do? What do I say? And what if she says 'no'?"

"Get down on your knee and say what you feel, Ron," replied his father. "And don't worry, she won't turn you down. She loves you, too." He pulled away, leaving Ron standing at the curb with a diamond ring, all alone.

* * *

Hermione stood alone in the ticket queue, waiting to check in for her flight to Sydney. She was slightly surprised to find she had gone through with it. A part of her felt guilty for springing it on Ron so suddenly, though to be honest, she had occasionally thought about leaving him, if never very seriously. Their recently lackluster relationship hadn't seemed to bother him, and he had completely ignored any attempts to discuss it. As Harry and Ginny's wedding had neared, he had been deaf to any talk of marriage, as if officially losing his best friend to his sister had soured him to the idea forever. Harry and Ginny's obvious happiness only emphasized her and Ron's lack of commitment, but Hermione had finally given up, convinced he would never bind to something he didn't seem interested in.

She had accepted things for what they were, but events over the past few weeks had changed her mind and made it clear her decision was the right one. Though she was disappointed that she would miss the endgame of her hard work in repealing the old pureblood requirement for membership in the Wizengamot, her family was now her priority. A clean start in Sydney, away from so many reminders of what could have been and closer to her more vulnerable parents, seemed the logical choice of action, if the hardest. It stung, that they were in danger once more, because of her; this time she would be there for them, even if it cost her relationship with Ron.

Glancing about, Hermione's eyes strayed enviously to the people standing around her. The young couple in front of her was obviously on their honeymoon, holding hands and exchanges soft kisses and sighs; it reminded her of Harry and Ginny, exchanging their vows the day before. Behind her an elderly couple browsed their guidebook, making plans for the opera house and other Sydney staples.

With a sigh, she shuffled forward, suddenly wishing there was a quicker way for Muggles to travel 17,000 kilometers. She had usually enjoyed flying; the constant compression of a half dozen trips by Portkey and the resulting feeling of nausea and disorientation didn't make up for the time lost in the air. Now, however, she wanted to be there as soon as possible, and would have Apparated straight to Sydney if it were magically possible.

A commotion in the terminal made her turn, and to her surprise, Hermione saw Ron dashing through the crowd, waving his arms at her. Her heart started beating faster as a thousand things raced through her head, most of which she had read in dodgy Muggle romance novels. Ron pushed his way through the queue, apologizing profusely to everyone he bumped and nudged as he forced his way to Hermione. When he finally reached her, he was out of breath.

"Damn, this turtle is long," he gasped, bending over.

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "It's a terminal, not a turtle," she whispered, helping him stand. "And did you run the entire way?"

"I did," he replied, wiping his face. "I don't think the guards appreciated it, but a quick spell changed their mind."

"You didn't!" she exclaimed. "Ron! You could be arrested!"

"Only if you report me," he grinned. "Besides, I couldn't have some Muggle policeman arresting me for running down the hall."

"Then don't run," she replied, moving forward in the queue. To her surprise, Ron picked up her baggage for her. "Why are you here? You should be halfway back to the Burrow by now."

"Not without you," said Ron, taking her hand. "Please, Hermione. Don't go. I love you."

Hermione could feel the stares of the passengers around her. Even the newly married couple in front of her stopping cuddling and turned to look, while the elderly lady behind them sighed. Hermione couldn't help but flush with embarrassment; she was not a particularly public person and would have much rather discussed the matter anywhere else but the queue to Sydney.

"I love you, too, Ron," she said quietly, trying to ignore the crowd around her and focus on Ron. "I do, but I still have to go. My flight leaves in two hours and I start at the Ministry on Monday!"

"Bugger it, and tell them you've changed your mind. They'll understand." Ron was staring at her with naked emotion, his freckles standing out on a pale face.

"They won't, and I haven't," whispered Hermione, moving forward once more, even though a part of her wanted to step out of line and turn back with him. "Look, Ron, it's too late. I'm moving to Sydney. I need to be with my parents. I have a new job. And I just want to—"

Ron fell to his knees. "—to be married," he finished. "I know that now. Tell me it's not too late."

Hermione gasped, as did most of the crowd around her. There were several sighs of happiness, a few cheers, and even a bit of applause. "Say yes!" someone called out, and Hermione whipped her head around to see who had said it.

"Say yes," Ron whispered. "Say you'll marry me." He took a small ring from his pocket: a diamond set with two rubies. Hermione felt her heart stop. It was beautiful, and it was exactly what she had been hoping for since before Harry had proposed to Ginny. Yet now there were other things to consider, other people involved…

"Grandmother's ring, I'd wager," murmured the woman behind them. Ron grinned and nodded.

"My great-grandmother, actually." Turning back to Hermione, he offered it to her. "Please take it. I want to marry you. I know that now."

Hermione felt the tears in her eyes, though she wasn't sure if they were tears of happiness or confusion. Composing herself, she helped Ron stand and smiled sadly at him. "Ron—" she began, before they were forced to move forward. She was suddenly much closer to the front of the queue than she wanted to be.

"Yes?" he asked, taking her hand again and beginning to put the ring on. It was all she could do to curl her hand into a fist and refuse, and even then, she wasn't sure why. Didn't she want this? Wasn't this what she had been waiting for? The look on his face broke her heart.

"You're only asking because I'm leaving," she murmured, once more ignoring everything around them as people began whispering.

"I'm asking because I love you, and I don't want you to go," he replied, unable to hide the sullenness from his voice.

"So you thought you'd propose to get me to stay?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "But apparently I was mental to think you would."

Hermione shook her head. "It was very romantic, Ron, really. But it's not the answer, is it? Get married just so I don't move away?"

"Then what's the answer?" he exclaimed, stepping back. "Hermione, you won't tell me anything! What do you want? Just tell me!"

Hermione moved forward in the queue, silent. In truth, he was offering her exactly what she had wanted for years: a ring, a promise, a future. And yet, he was offering for all the wrong reasons, and she couldn't help but feel that he was only acting out of desperation. She also thought about the letters she had received, and although she desperately wanted to tell him about it, she couldn't. It was something she needed to deal with on her own, without dragging anyone else into a dangerous situation just when life seemed to be settling down.

"Where did you get the ring?" she asked instead of answering him. She was next in the queue and would have to decide.

"My dad brought it," he muttered, stuffing it back into his pocket. "Apparently he's got the wrong idea about us, though."

Hermione's head whipped around. "This was your dad's idea?" she asked, her voice low. "What, did he put you up to it or something?"

"Of course not!" Ron exclaimed, his face flaming again as the crowd around them began to snigger. "He only pointed out some things."

"And he just happened to be carrying your great-grandmother's ring," Hermione replied dryly. She made her decision. Bad enough that Ron was asking her to marry him only to keep her in the country; worse that it wasn't even his own idea. She was doing the right thing. Maybe someday she'd return and they could work things out; right now her family needed her more.

"He knows about these things better than I do," Ron shrugged. "Look, Hermione, I know I'm thick. I'm sorry I missed all the hints. I should have asked you a long time ago, but I didn't. Please don't leave because I messed up: let me fix it. Marry me."

Hermione could feel the crowd around her holding their breath. She even heard a few people murmuring advice. She was tempted, but her anxiety and stubborn resolve won. She needed to go, so she could be there for her parents this time, instead of casting a spell and hoping they would be safe. Besides, he would never change, and she was tired of waiting for him—wasn't she?

Hermione was next in line, and she stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, Ron. It's too late."

* * *

Chapter Three

Ron watched stoically as Hermione walked through security, the complex Muggle machines proclaiming both her and her baggage safe. He couldn't help but snort to himself, even though he knew the Muggles found it reassuring after a terrible tragedy had killed thousands of people the previous year. A simple spell could undo all those safety measures, and yet they wouldn't let Hermione carry on a bottle of water anymore.

She turned and waved from the other side, and Ron thought—or hoped— she might be holding back tears. He felt them in the back of his eyes as well: tears of frustration, of loss, of heartbreak. She was moving to Australia—she was really leaving him. He had got down on bent knee and proposed, and she had rejected him. He was at such a loss to understand it all that for a moment he questioned their entire relationship.

And yet…he loved her. He would marry her. He felt it in his heart: his father was right, and this was the answer. He was more determined than ever now. Hermione was leaving because she didn't have anything keeping her in London. He hadn't offered her anything until it was too late, which meant now he needed to make up for it.

Ron was sorely tempted to simply cast a Disillusionment Charm and follow Hermione onto the plane and to Australia right then, but he knew she'd be furious to find him deceiving the Muggle transportation system with magic. He knew her that well, at least. He had to get to Australia, but he had to do it legitimately.

He couldn't purchase a ticket, since he had no Muggle money. And he knew from Hermione's experience that tickets were desperately expensive at the last minute. He also had no idea how to go about purchasing a ticket without Hermione's help, if he could somehow get enough Muggle money to do so. And if he were honest with himself, he didn't really like the idea of flying either, since the 21-hour flight to Sydney sounded excruciatingly dull. So the airplane was out; he'd have to find another way to Australia.

Hermione was gone. He could no longer see her. Turning around, he made his way through the terminal alone. His father had left with the car, no doubt assuming Ron would eventually Apparate back to the Burrow with Hermione wearing her new ring. Ron couldn't face him and the rest of his family and tell them what had happened. Taking his father's advice had only made the situation worse anyway, so he needed to figure out what to do for himself. Making his way out of the airport, Ron hurried toward a large concrete pillar, stepped behind it, and Apparated back to the flat he shared with Harry—at least until a week ago.

Harry was married now, and all his belongings were gone, waiting to be unpacked at the new place he would share with Ginny when they returned from their short honeymoon trip. The quiet emptiness of the flat only made Ron feel worse, as if not only his girlfriend but his best friend had left him as well. He knew it was a ridiculous thing to think, but it was dark and silent and he felt completely alone.

Grabbing a bag from the closet, Ron threw a few bits of clothing in it, determined to change things. He found his stash of Galleons and stuffed them in his pocket. He scribbled a quick note to his parents and whistled for Pig; tying the note to his leg, he gave him a treat, rubbed his head, and sent him to the Burrow so his family would at least know where he was. He owed them that much.

Glancing around one last time, Ron noticed a package on the table he hadn’t seen before. He unwrapped it and found a book. Not just any book—he chuckled when he saw that it was Hogwarts, A History. He didn’t even have to read the note to know it was from Hermione. For some reason, it made him feel better. He was doing the right thing.

On impulse, Ron tucked the book into his bag. Grabbing some Floo powder, he tossed it into the fireplace and stepped onto the hearth. "The Ministry of Magic!" he shouted, and found himself whisked away to his former workplace. Stepping out into the new atrium, he dusted himself off and hurried toward the security wizard, wand ready.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley!" boomed the short, stout man who examined his wand. "Nice to see you back in these parts. May I ask your destination, or have you decided to join us again?"

"I'm heading to the Portkey office, Wynston," Ron replied, taking his wand and replacing it in his robes.

"A trip, I assume?" Wynston asked, motioning at his bag.

"Hopefully!" Ron called, moving toward the lifts. He took the nearest one to the sixth floor and walked quickly to the Portkey office. He wistfully remembered a time when his Auror status had granted him full authority for creating Portkeys when needed. Yet even if he were still an Auror, international Portkeys required multiple ministry permissions.

As he explained his destination to the witch behind the desk, she nodded. A Quicksilver Quill wrote out his destination route – London to Berlin to Moscow with a rest stop until morning, then Hong Kong to Singapore with another rest stop, and finally Sydney. Australia was simply too far for a single Portkey, and multiple Portkeys in one day required a certain number of rest periods to allow for the witch or wizard to recover from so many compressions and decompressions.

Ron was lucky: the last Portkey to Berlin was leaving within the hour. He thought about sending a message to George through the Floo network calling cubicles across the hall, but decided against it. If he stopped to think about what he was doing, he might not be able to go through with it. Instead, he sat in the waiting room of the International Portkey Office, his leg bouncing nervously.

Ron had never left the country on his own before; he was surprised to find it was such an easy, if slightly expensive, thing to do. A few other witches and wizards waited with him, each bound for an international destination.

When it was time for his Portkey, he shared it with a portly middle-aged woman who told him she was on her way to visit her sick mother in Italy. He nodded politely, awkwardly expressing his condolences, but hoping she wouldn't ask about his own traveling plans. He was glad when the Portkey began to glow before she could. He soon felt the unmistakable pull of magic as he was sucked across Europe toward the first leg of his journey.

In Berlin, he had to wait briefly for the last Portkey of the day to Moscow, which he shared with an old Russian couple and their dog. They were obviously returning home after an extended stay on the French coast, for they were plump and tan and extremely chatty. Ron had never paid attention to what it was like when someone talked through a Portkey jump; he distantly heard the old woman prattling on about their stay at some wizarding resort, her voice garbled by magic.

It was the middle of the night in Moscow, and the next Portkey wasn't scheduled to leave until sunrise. The required rest stop in Moscow found Ron scouring the Russian Portkey office for something to eat instead of sleeping. He found a plate of stale kolachy and a several varieties of vodka, each of which he decided were far worse than anything he had ever had, even at the Hog's Head. He spit out the first, earning him a sour look from the bald wizard minding the office. He barely stomached the second, and poured the rest of it into a nearby plant instead.

After waiting an excruciating three hours, unable to even doze with so much on his mind, Ron took yet another Portkey to Hong Kong, and from there to Singapore. He was starting to feel the effects of the constant compression and a night without sleep and was glad for the rest stop in Singapore, managing a restless nap on a couch in the shabby Portkey office even though it was mid-morning there. He took the final Portkey to Sydney alone. Sixteen hours after he had left the Ministry of Magic in Britain, Ron found himself in the Australian Ministry of Magic International Portkey office.

He had beat Hermione by more than half a day.

Six international Portkeys were a lot to handle for anyone, and in spite of the break in Moscow and a brief nap in Singapore, Ron felt the effects immediately as he swayed on the spot. A young witch was there immediately and guided him to a plump chair. He put his head in his hands as a wave of nausea swept over him; when he looked up, the witch was offering him a glass of water.

"Here you go, sir. Welcome to Sydney."

"Thanks," Ron mumbled. He downed the glass and handed it back with what he hoped was a smile and not a grimace. She nodded knowingly as she went to get him a second glass.

"First time coming to Australia, Mr. Weasley?" she asked.

Ron looked up in surprise. "How did you know my name?" he asked.

"Portkey offices communicate traveler lists, of course. For security reasons." She was a pretty witch, with straight blond hair pulled back with a large flower and a nice smile. Her blue eyes were studying him through square glasses, and he vaguely wondered if everyone received such personal attention upon arriving in Sydney, or just him.

"Of course," he murmured. He was quiet as he took some deep breaths, finished his drink, and stood. He still felt a bit unsteady, but was determined to walk it off.

"May I help you with anything else, Mr. Weasley?" the witch asked. "Do you know where you are heading?"

"Actually," Ron said, grinning sheepishly at her, "I don't. I know the address, but that's about it."

"And you don't feel up to Apparating, I assume?" she asked, taking the slip of paper with the Grangers' home address on it from him. “Most people don’t after a trip like that.�

"Not at the moment, no," he confessed. "I don't suppose you have any other means of magical transportation I might take?"

The witch frowned. "But this is a Muggle neighborhood, Mr. Weasley."

"I know," he replied. "I'm going to visit my…" He stopped, unsure whether to refer to Hermione as his friend, girlfriend, or fiancée; he wasn't sure if she was any of them at the moment. "I'm going to visit my girlfriend's parents," he finished.

He thought the witch looked either surprised or disappointed, but then her face lit up. "Are you going to ask them if you can propose? Oh, that's lovely!" She actually clapped her hands together. "How romantic."

Ron sighed. "Well, we'll see about that. I already asked her once and it didn't go well, so I'm hoping I get a second chance."

The pretty blond witch stuck out her hand. "My name is Katherine Kelly, but you can call me Kate. I'd be happy to help you with anything you need here in Sydney. Anything." Ron tried not to react to her emphasis on the word anything; he didn't want to jump to conclusions.

"Er, thanks, Ms. Kelly," he replied. "But I just need to get to her parents’ house."

"Of course," Kate replied, nodding understandably. "Will you want flowers, chocolates, anything else? You can't go empty-handed, you know."

"Well, she's not in yet," said Ron, shrugging helplessly. "Although, I suppose it might be nice to bring her mum something."

Kate narrowed her eyes. "How is she not in yet? A later Portkey?"

"No, she's flying. On an airplane." Ron shrugged again, unsure why the Portkey witch was so interested in Hermione's travel plans.

"Oh, that's right, she's Muggle-born. Of course," Kate murmured. "Well, if you've beat her, then you have some free time. Would you like to get something to eat before you head out to Balmain? I'd be happy to show you around."

Ron swallowed, unsure what to say. On one hand, he was starving, Kate seemed perfectly nice, and he knew nothing about getting around Sydney when he didn't have the strength to Apparate. On the other, he knew how inappropriate it was to have dinner with another woman before proposing to his girlfriend again, and something was niggling at the back of his brain. He shook his head. "Thanks, but I think I should head straight there and get some rest."

"Of course," she replied, and she didn't seem bothered at all. "Let me get you a taxi, at least. It will cost a bit more, but it will be easier than trying to navigate the trains on your own."

"As long as you can change my currency," Ron said, following her from the office. "Otherwise I won't be able to pay them."

"We've got a currency exchange just down the hallway. Follow me."

After changing his Galleons for Australian dollars, Kate led him through the Australian Ministry for Magic. Unlike the British offices, which were deep underground, the Australian Ministry appeared to be in a high rise in the middle of Sydney. Either that or the windows had exceptionally strong Landscape and Weather Charms on them. Kate assured him it was the real view after catching him glancing out yet another window.

Other than that, it seemed very similar to the British Ministry, and Ron tried not to stare too much as they took a lift down and made their way out to the street. As in London, dozens of Muggles walked right by the building, blissfully uninterested thanks to a myriad of spells that convinced them there was simply nothing interesting to see. No one even seemed surprised to see them step out from the double doors of an abandoned building; he almost felt invisible.

Kate held out her hand for a taxi, and soon a white sedan pulled over. Ron gave the driver the slip of paper with the Grangers' address. He turned to thank Kate but she waved him off.

"It's no trouble, Mr. Weasley. And please call me Kate."

"Well, thanks, Kate," he said. "I really appreciate it."

To his surprise, she handed him a small square card. It had her name printed on it under International Portkey Office, though it seemed blurry in the bright sunlight. "Please call me if you need anything else, Ron. Any help whatsoever."

Again Ron noticed the odd inflection on her final words and wondered if she was hinting at something else, or if he was so tired and hungry he was imagining things. He just nodded as she closed the door and tapped the roof of the taxi. The driver pulled out into the traffic, and Ron settled back with a sigh. He closed his eyes as he thought about what he would say to Hermione's parents when he arrived. He tried not to imagine their reaction—or worse, Hermione's reaction when she realized he had followed her halfway across the world.

He did not notice the dark shape that followed the taxi out into Sydney traffic. Katherine Kelly, however, did.

* * *

Chapter 4

Hermione placed the headphones over her ears and leaned back, closing her eyes to the roar of the plane around her, as well as the activity throughout the cabin. They had been in the air for over twenty hours and had changed planes in Bangkok. She had enjoyed the in-flight film, worked on some notes for her new job, read through the latest edition of The Quibbler, and even slept a bit. Breakfast had been a bland omelet with tasteless coffee, after which she had read the new biography of Kingsley Shacklebolt and watched another movie, a ridiculous film from the previous year about a boy wizard. After waiting in the queue for the small, cramped toilet, Hermione had returned to her seat to simply listen to music and contemplate the next phase of her life.

The strains of one of her favorite Muggle composers filled her head as she tried to get comfortable in the cramped seat. The soft music slowly lulled her, and she finally put her head back and sighed. She didn't want to move. If she admitted it, deep down, she was dreading it. She would be with her family, but nothing else drew her to Australia other than her parents and their safety. She didn't know anyone in Sydney and wasn’t looking forward to starting a new job.

She loved her job in London. The Ministry was where she was meant to be. She had found great satisfaction in her new department, working to eradicate the oldest laws in the books, laws that still favored purebloods. They were laws that were rarely referenced anymore, but they still needed to be changed. For the war to truly be over, the unspoken but still legal prejudices needed to end, and she had made substantial progress. In particular, she had single-handedly managed to convince the assembly that the law allowing only purebloods to be appointed to the Wizengamot—and in particular, to the post of Chief Warlock—needed to be struck from the records for good. The law hadn't been followed for decades anyway, and the greatest Chief Warlock of the last century had been a half-blood, after all. There had been opposition, but even with her abrupt departure, she hoped she had done enough to lock in the vote.

She loved her friends. She would have come sooner, only she couldn’t bear missing Harry and Ginny’s wedding. She told herself it would have seemed suspicious if she had left before the ceremony. So she had done the best she could, throwing together a secret international move within the space of a month while trying to act normal and not worry about her parents. Harry and Ginny had been surprised when she had finally told them she was moving during their honeymoon, but understanding. Whether they were hiding their hurt, or suspected something else was wrong, she didn't know. She only hoped she could tell them the truth someday, when it was all over…if it ever ended.

She loved Ron. With another sigh, Hermione shook her head of the image of Ron, on bent knee asking her to marry him. At the time it had seemed the only thing to do, to leave him there, stunned and saddened. It had been hard, but it had been for the best. She didn't want to put anyone else in danger just because she couldn't say no to a pretty ring. So she had given it back and turned away. She had boarded the plane, leaving him alone and confused.

An angry tear trickled down her face as she thought about Ron. Why hadn't she told him the truth? Because she'd been threatened? Was that all? Wiping it away, Hermione shook her head to herself, forced to acknowledge all the other reasons she hadn’t told him: Ron was just starting at the shop, and he was so busy that she hadn't wanted to bother him. He was overworked as it was and would probably overreact, as he so often did. He was also preparing to be Harry's best man, and the last thing Hermione had wanted to do was interrupt a Weasley wedding.

Which was why she hadn't told Harry either, in spite of him being one of the best people to help her. He was an Auror and rising quickly within the office, working tirelessly to round up former Death Eaters and put down any rise in Dark Magic. He stayed late each night assuring the safety of the wizarding world, to the point where it had almost cost him his relationship with Ginny. Seeing him so happy as he prepared to be married, Hermione knew she couldn't tell him either: he didn’t need any more work, especially before his wedding.

Never mind that she had been explicitly told not to talk: she could handle it on her own, just as she had before.

Digging through her carry-on bag, Hermione pulled out several pieces of fine parchment. She had performed every spell she could think of on them, but they had yielded no clues. She had no idea who had sent the menacing letters, but she took the threats very seriously. Who had written them was not as important as what they said, and each stated in no uncertain terms that if she were to tell anyone, her parents would be hurt. Permanently.

She had dismissed the initial threat and continued with her work, determined not to stop when she was so close. She wasn't one to be intimidated, after all. The wizarding photograph sent with the second letter, of the Grangers sitting happily on the front porch of their home, unaware they were being watched, had changed her mind. It was proof enough that whomever had sent the letters had meant it. They had taken the time to track her parents all the way down to Australia and send her a picture, clearly letting her know that they were watching the Grangers. If she had set aside the first letter, she duly followed the dictates of the second and slowly backed down from her campaign. The third letter confirmed the seriousness of her enemy's warning with another picture—this time from within her parents' home. She had no choice.

Hermione searched for the photographs, but they were not with the letters. She had probably tucked them away somewhere, perhaps in a book. She did not miss them, however, for they were a chilling reminder of the danger her parents were in because of her, and Hermione did not need to be reminded of it. She had lived with it once already, when she had hunted Horcruxes with Harry, and she had suffered through it again for the past month, growing more anxious each day she was not able to be there and protect them.

Even after dwelling on it for so many weeks, Hermione still wasn't sure what she was going to do when she arrived in Sydney. She had considered casting another memory charm and relocating her parents, but couldn’t bring herself to uproot them again. The first time had been so hard on them all, and she couldn't do that to them, take them from the new path they'd chosen after she'd interrupted their life in England. She'd considered trying to convince them to come back to London, where she could protect them and continue her work, in spite of the threats. Yet they'd be even closer to danger there, and she couldn't very well watch over them all day while continuing to go into the Ministry and do the job that was threatening their safety.

She had thought about setting them up under Australian protection, but the threats and the photographic evidence seemed proof that whomever was threatening them—was threatening her and her work—would certainly know if she called in Ministry officials. And then she risked bringing innocent witches and wizards into a conflict that was hers and hers alone, all for a price she wasn't willing pay.

She hadn't even decided whether or not she was going to tell them the truth, though she had to tell them something. They had already asked why she had decided to move so abruptly, but she had just brushed away the question, putting off the inevitable answer. She now had a perfectly valid reason for her sudden move: Ron had proposed, she had said no, and she had come to start over in Australia. They didn't need to know the details. They didn't need to know that she had quit her job, her flat, and her friends in order to protect them. They didn't have to know it broke her heart to say no to Ron. It was just what she had to do. She would make a new start, only for far different reasons than they might ever suspect.

A small voice in her head hoped she would be able to return to London one day, but the logical voice silenced it, refusing to let hope grow.

A voice came over the cabin speakers, informing the passengers that they would be landing in Sydney soon. Hermione adjusted her seat belt and put up her tray table. She smiled as she tried to imagine Ron sitting next to her for an entire flight. She found it relaxing and quite a remarkable achievement for Muggles; he would certainly find it dull and tiring. She had wanted to bring him to Australia one day, but that hope seemed lost for now.

Glancing out the window, Hermione saw the Australian outback far below. The sun was just starting to rise, and the sky was slowly changing from deep blue to fine pink. Soon she could make out the Blue Mountains just west of the city, and then the bay, and she smiled in spite of everything: Sydney was really a beautiful place. Her parents were very happy there, which was why she was so determined to protect that. It was just a shame it was so far from London.

The plane soon touched down and moved toward the terminal. As they taxied to a stop and waited for the jetbridge, Hermione gathered her things and adjusted her watch. It was early in Sydney and she felt the jet lag, but having made the trip several times, she knew she would adjust after a day or two. She just needed to make it until lunch and then take a short nap.

The Sydney airport was already busy as she made her way through the international terminal toward the baggage claim. After waiting for her suitcases, she entered the queue for customs and security before heading toward the arrivals terminal. Unable to resist, Hermione stopped for a cappuccino before continuing toward where her parents would be waiting. As she sipped at the hot drink, she felt someone jostle her elbow. Slightly annoyed as the dark liquid ran down her shirt, she turned to say something to the man behind her.

“Excuse me—“ she began curtly, but stopped when she saw the face leering at hers. “You!� she gasped.

A wand was casually but expertly put to her back, and she felt a subtle Muggle-Repelling Charm envelop her and her assailant, blanketing them in nondescript disinterest. A rough hand took her arm and steered her away from the small crowd walking past them; no one even glanced their way. “I wouldn’t say anything, love," whispered a soft voice in her ear, a voice she remembered and hated. "Better to stay quiet so as not to make a scene.�

“What are you doing here?� she hissed under her breath as her attacker guided her toward an old Muggle telephone stand. He glanced around, grey eyes narrowing as he pushed her against the cold concrete of the wall and put his wand to her throat. Hermione let the cappuccino fall to the ground and cast a quick, silent spell over it. Her wand was tucked into her bag, but she hoped her desperation would lend it strength should anyone find the cup.

With his wand still at her neck, her attacker rummaged roughly through her bag, taking her wand and placing it into his robes. He then tapped the top of her head; Hermione felt the familiar cold trickle of a Disillusionment Charm and knew she would blend into the background.

She was now invisible; no one would know what was happening to her, if they even somehow saw through the Repelling Charm.

Hermione struggled against her attacker, but he hit her hard, leaving a deep welt across her face. She stepped on his foot and tried to twist away, but he placed his wand to her temple. She spit in his face, and he backhanded her again.

“You’re not going to go easy, are you, love?� he murmured, wiping the spit from his cheek. “Just like the first time. Then we’ll have to do it the hard way.�

Before she could protest, Hermione felt the Full-Body Bind curse freeze her arms to her sides. She vaguely wondered how her attacker was going to get her past the anti-Apparation wards at the exits if she were immobilized, but then he murmured a Hover Charm. She found herself floating before him, still concealed by the Disillusionment Charm, but unable to move or even call for help.

It had happened so fast she’d hardly had time to react. Now she tried to think. Her parents would be waiting to pick her up, but she would never arrive. She had no way of letting them or anyone else know what had happened. Even worse, she would be unable to protect her parents if there were more attackers waiting for them—if they hadn't been taken already. Hermione suddenly wished she’d told someone, anyone, what was really going on. If her parents were safe, they might be able to get in touch with her friends back home, but they would have little to go on if they were to ever find her.

Hermione wanted more than anything to shut her eyes as she was floated toward a set of nearby double doors. She saw her parents waiting for her at the far end of the terminal, and to her surprise, Ron was standing with them. She struggled vainly against the spells holding her, but couldn't move, couldn't even shout for help. She felt tears of frustration begin to spill down her cheeks as her kidnapper led her outside toward the taxi area. Stepping behind a large column, he set her down and released the spells on her. Before she could run, he grabbed her arm again and twisted around, Apparating away from any hope Hermione might have had of being found.

* * *

Chapter Five

Ron stepped out of the taxi and handed the driver the bills Katherine Kelly had changed for him. The driver beamed at him, which clearly meant he had given the man too much, but Ron didn't care: he was just glad to have arrived safely at his destination after some harrowing driving through Muggle traffic.

The Grangers' house stood in front of him, a cheerful, cottage-like home set close to the sidewalk on a street full of other, more cosmopolitan houses. The short walkway was lined with flowers, and a pert welcoming sign hung on the painted door. Children played in the surrounding yards, and several other people were out walking or riding in the bright afternoon sun. It was as Muggle as could be, and Ron shook his head ruefully, trying to imagine Hermione living in such a place.

He waved to the taxi and hurried to the front door. His knock was answered quickly by a petite woman with short brown hair and Hermione's brown eyes. She appeared surprised to see Ron, but immediately welcomed him with a warm hug.

"Ron! Whatever are you doing here?" She ushered him inside the neat house and called for her husband. "But Hermione won't be here until morning! How did you get here?"

"Hi, Mrs. Granger," Ron replied. He turned to shake the hand of the tall, thin man who had just come in from the kitchen. He had the friendly and confident air of a man who had spent years working with people. "Mr. Granger. I took a Portkey."

"It's Tom, remember?" said Hermione's father with a smile.

"Of course." Ron had never felt comfortable being on a first name basis with Hermione's parents, but he nodded. Mrs. Granger took his arm and led him to the small kitchen. Sitting him down, she immediately started a pot of water and set out some biscuits. "If traveling by Portkey is anything like what Hermione's told us, you'll be wanting something to eat."

Ron's stomach growled and answered for him; he hadn't even realized how hungry he was until he sat down. He took two biscuits as Hermione's parents sat opposite him. "Thanks, Mrs. Granger," he managed through a mouthful

"Karen," she replied firmly. "And you are quite welcome. Now, tell me again--what are you doing here before Hermione? Is everything all right?"

Ron swallowed, unsure how to respond. "Everything's fine, Mrs. Gr—Karen. I'm not really sure why I'm here. I just had to come."

Thomas Granger nodded knowingly. "Had a row before she left?" he asked.

Ron was astonished. "Yes. How did you know?"

Karen chuckled. "We were young once, too. Ron. What did you fight about? It must have been important for you to follow her all this way."

"Well, er…" Ron hesitated. He hadn't given much thought to what he would say to Hermione's parents; he hadn't had time. "I guess I don't really understand why she's moving so far, so out of the blue," he concluded lamely.

Karen frowned and looked at her husband. Tom Granger sighed. "We aren't either, Ron," he replied. "She sprung it on us rather suddenly as well."

"We're thrilled, of course," said Karen, "but we're concerned. We thought maybe it had to do with…well, with you two." She offered him another biscuit, as if to soften the blow.

"I did too," Ron admitted. "And when I talked to my dad about it, he thought maybe…" he trailed off again, glancing at Hermione's father nervously. "He thought maybe Hermione was disappointed with me." He couldn't help it: Ron felt his face flush as he finished. "And my lack of a proposal."

"A proposal?" repeated Tom, and Ron swallowed. Hermione's father was a very mild-mannered man, but he was still her father.

"Oh, you mean marriage," said Karen, giving her husband a look as she stood and moved to the stove. "Well, I won't deny that Hermione has mentioned it several times."

"She has?" asked Ron in unison with Tom Granger.

Karen laughed. "She is a young woman, after all. Yes, that might be part of it, although I don't think Hermione would leave England because of it. I think there's something else going on."

She returned to the table and poured them each a cup of tea. "Did you talk to her about it? About getting married?"

Ron almost spit out his tea. Swallowing a burning mouthful, he gasped instead. "I proposed. At the airport. She—"

Tom's eyes went wide, while Karen clapped her hands together and kissed Ron on the cheek before he could finish. "Ron! How lovely! Congratulations!"

"—said no," Ron said, hearing the bitter glumness in his voice.

Karen gasped, and Tom frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that, son. And surprised, to be honest."

"There must be something else," said Karen, shaking her head. "She would have only said no if there were some other reason."

She glanced sideways at her husband, who frowned again.

"What?" asked Ron. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Oh Ron, I hate to even ask, but…" Karen trailed off. "She's not…you know, pregnant, is she?"

Ron knew his mouth was hanging open but didn't bother to close it. He couldn't wrap his brain around it. He hadn't even considered it as a reason for Hermione leaving. Hermione, having a baby? And leaving for Australia instead of telling him? He shook his head. "No, absolutely not. She'd tell me something like that. I know it."

Karen sighed and patted his arm. "I think so too, dear," she said. "But we had to ask. What about her job? Was there anything going on in her new department?"

"Not that I know of, but she hasn't talked about it much lately," said Ron, thinking back over the past months. "Which is odd, now that you mention it. She was always banging on about the Wizengamot and some case or another, especially the big one coming up. But she hasn't mentioned it at all lately."

Tom nodded sagely. "Maybe something went wrong? What was she working on?"

Ron shrugged. "She was working on repealing old wizarding laws, that's all. They were set to vote this week on whether or not pure-bloods should be the only ones allowed on the Wizengamot, especially the position of Chief Warlock."

Karen stood up and puttered around the kitchen some more. "That makes no sense to us whatsoever, Ron, but we'll take your word on it. Hopefully she'll talk to us when she arrives—especially now that you are here." She turned and smiled at him. "How romantic!"

Ron blushed as he finished his tea. "It's no big deal, Mrs. Granger," he said, slipping back into the more formal address. "I just need to try this again." He turned hurriedly to Hermione's father. "With your permission, Mr. Granger!" he added hastily.

"Of course, Ron," Tom replied, laughing. "And I do hope you get a better answer this time. Any man who magics himself halfway around the world for my daughter would make a brilliant son-in-law."

Ron flushed again, embarrassed. He didn't know what to say and took another sip of tea as he thought about what Hermione's parents had shared with him. He was starting to agree with them: there had to be some other reason Hermione had come to Australia. He had thought it was his fault, but now he wondered if they were right, and if there were more reasons than she had shared.

"You look exhausted, dear," said Karen, gazing at him with concern. "Hermione always takes a short nap when she arrives, perhaps you should, too."

Ron blinked, unaware that he had been staring into space. "That sounds like a good idea," he said, trying to hold back a yawn.

Karen smiled and led him to a small guestroom in the back. It was yellow with bright flowers on the side table by the bed, as well as a few of what were obviously Hermione's things from when she was a child. "You can sleep here tonight. We'll work out something else when Hermione arrives in the morning."

Ron tossed his bag on the dresser and thanked her. As soon as she closed the door he collapsed on the bed. Arms behind his head, he just stared at the ceiling, his mind blank. He kept picturing Hermione at the airport, and the look on her face as she had left. After talking to her parents, he was more certain than ever there was something she hadn't told him about the move. He just couldn't think of anything, although her mother's suggestion that it might have something to do with her work stuck in the back of his mind.

Unable to fall asleep, Ron rummaged through his bag for the book she had left him. Unfortunately, her note left no clues, only another farewell and her parents' phone number should he need to contact her by Muggle means. He idly flipped through the book, smiling as he thought about how many times she had quoted it to him and Harry over the years. It was the perfect book to remember her by.

Something fell from the well-worn pages. Curious, Ron picked up two photographs of Hermione's parents. They were wizarding photos, developed to move like the portraits at Hogwarts. One showed them sitting on the small porch, sipping coffee in the morning; the other was of them sitting in their living room, watching their Muggle television. They did not seem aware that their picture was being taken, which Ron found odd. It didn't seem like Hermione to take a photograph of them without their knowledge. In fact, the photos reminded him more of someone watching from the background, even spying.

He thought about asking Karen and Tom, but he didn't want to worry them if the pictures were suspect. Still, his suspicions were roused. And why were they tucked into the middle of an old book? He turned it over in his mind until Karen called him for supper. After a delicious meal, they talked some more and watched one of the Grangers' favourite television programs. Ron went to bed early, knowing he would have to be up before dawn for the drive to the airport. He dreamed about dark men with cameras following him as he raced around the world with Hermione's ring, proposing over and over only to have her disappear on him again and again.

The drive to the airport the next morning was quiet and uneventful. The sky was just beginning to lighten as they parked the car and made their way toward the arrivals terminal to pick up Hermione. Tom bought them all cappuccinos as they waited; Ron sipped at his, once again wondering how Muggles drank so much of it when it tasted vile to his tongue. They watched as more and more passengers came through customs and security, but Hermione was not one of them.

After waiting a while longer, Tom checked the large screens that detailed the arrivals and departures at the airport.

"Hermione's plane landed an hour ago," he said, frowning. "She should be out by now. Let me call her."

He took a small Muggle telephone from his coat pocket and dialed; Ron knew Hermione had a cell phone to stay in touch with her parents, but it still amazed him. Unfortunately, the frown on her father's face only deepened.

"She's not answering," he said, snapping it shut.

"Could she still be on the plane?" asked Karen.

"I doubt it," Tom replied. "Her flight landed, they'll be cleaning it by now. And her phone should be on regardless of where she is."

"Maybe she changed flights?" Karen suggested. "But then she would have let us know."

"Exactly," said Tom. He turned to Ron. "Are you sure she didn't change her mind about coming? Could she have stayed in London?"

Ron thought about it. His instinct told him no, Hermione had not stayed. She would have called him—and her parents—if she had. And he didn't think she would just change flights without anyone telling anyone either. She was far too responsible and organized. The fact that she was not answering her phone bothered him, as did his conversation with the Grangers' the night before and the odd photographs he had found of them tucked into Hermione's book. The strange niggling in the back of his mind began again; something was not right.

"Which direction would she have come?" he asked. As Tom told him the way to Hermione's gate, Ron tried to decide how to sneak past security. He was too concerned to worry about Hermione's reaction; he needed to search the airport himself. He decided the quickest way would be a Disillusionment Charm, since he didn't have time to stand in the growing security line and use a spell on the security guards.

Hermione's parents did not seem happy when he told them what he was going to do, but they nodded anyway. They seemed as concerned as he did. Stepping behind them, he tapped his head and disappeared. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he whispered, then hurried toward security.

As he tried to move past the security checkpoint, he accidentally bumped into one of the guards, who rubbed her arm with a puzzled look on her face. He was able to go through otherwise undetected, and hurried toward the gate where Hermione's plane had arrived. Stepping behind a large plant, he released the charm and continued, his eyes open for any sign of Hermione. At the gate, he asked the ticket agent if everyone had left the plane; when she told him the plane was empty, he asked if a certain Hermione Granger had been on board. He waved aside her hesitation with a Confundus Charm; she checked the passenger list, and confirmed that Hermione had indeed boarded the flight.

Which meant she had arrived in Sydney. Either she was still in the airport with her phone off, had forgotten that her parents were picking her up and Apparated to their house, or something else had happened that kept her from meeting them. Ron's years as an Auror with Harry had sharpened his instincts enough to pinpoint the last. She was too dependable to not answer her phone and too orderly to forget about her parents and Apparate away. Something had stopped her from both answering her phone and meeting them.

He left the gate and decided to trace her path toward baggage. He thought about her sudden decision to move and her reluctance to talk about it. She hadn't talked about work in weeks either. She had turned down his proposal in London. He was almost certain now something about work had driven her away. Now she was missing. How was it all connected?

As he passed baggage claim and moved toward customs, Ron pulled the photographs of Hermione's parents from his pocket. He had tucked them there so he would remember to ask her about them. Once again he was struck by how unaware they seemed in the photograph, and how out of character it would be for Hermione to take secret pictures of her parents, unasked. She also preferred Muggle photographs; in fact, he had never seen wizarding photographs of her parents in her flat. Why had she tucked these into an old history book? Was someone spying on her parents? Was that why she had come to Sydney? To protect them again?

Ron stopped, suddenly struck by the thought. It made a strange sort of sense. She had protected them once during the Horcrux hunt, after all. He had no doubt she would do so again. But who would threaten the Grangers? And why? And most important—why didn't she tell him?

"Excuse me," said an older man, pointing to the old Muggle telephone behind him. Ron muttered an apology and moved out of the way. He stepped on a cappuccino cup, the liquid still steaming in a puddle on the floor. He glanced down in irritation, then did a double take. The liquid wasn't actually warm; in fact, it was now slowly turning to ice around the edges.

"That’s odd," muttered Ron, frowning at the cup. A sudden thought came to him. Hermione liked cappuccino. She probably would have got one for herself at this hour. And she knew obtuse spells like the one he had just seen. It was a wild guess, but he bent down and murmured a spell over the cup, earning him a strange look from the man on the telephone. And yet he was rewarded when the cup began to glow.

Picking it up, Ron hurried away. He turned the cup over in his hands. Etched into the back were the words Help-Hermione. Ron felt his stomach drop. His instincts were right. Something had happened. Given that she had failed to appear and left behind a spelled cup calling for help, he could only assume she had been taken. She had come to Sydney to protect her parents, only to find herself the target. Ron swore to himself, cursing her stubborn independence.

He had no idea where to start looking for her. He had no idea where to turn for help. If he had been home, he probably would have contacted Harry, but Harry was thousands of miles away, enjoying his honeymoon. Ron suddenly understood a little better why Hermione hadn't told anyone; he didn't want to interrupt Harry's trip, and certainly did not want to put any of his family or friends in the same danger that had brought Hermione to Australia only to see her kidnapped.

Casting a second Disillusionment Charm, Ron slipped past customs and began to make his way back toward the Grangers. Tucking the cup into his pocket, he came across the card Katherine Kelly had given him the day before. He pulled it out and stared at it. The thing that had been bothering him was suddenly clear: she had known not only his name, but recognized Hermione's as well. And more importantly, she had known Hermione was a Muggleborn even though he had never mentioned it. Katherine Kelly had offered to help him, but what kind of help was she offering? The kind that got Hermione kidnapped? Or the kind that would help him find her?

Ron squinted at the card and was surprised to see a second title appear under International Portkey Office. It said AIC-Office of Magical Intelligence. Oddly enough, there was a telephone number below it.

As Ron returned to the Grangers, he made a decision. He trusted his instincts; they had been right so far. Hermione was in danger, and he needed help to find her—magical help. After filling them in on his fruitless search and showing them the cappuccino cup, Ron held out his hand to Tom Granger.

"May I use your phone? I need to make a call."

* * *

Chapter Six

Hermione woke slowly, her head pounding, her senses confused. It was dark but she heard a loud roaring noise, and she felt a cool breeze but also a rank humidity. She couldn't begin to figure out where she was, because she couldn't even recall losing consciousness and getting there.

As she sat up and her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, Hermione started to remember. She had been at the airport, and she had been attacked. She had struggled but had been kidnapped quickly and quietly, her wand taken, her body immobilized. Her captor had Apparated away just meters from her parents and Ron. She vaguely remembered a rough landing, an argument, another struggle, and a bright light. And then she had been brought…here, somehow, somewhere. She suspected she was in a cave.

Glancing around, Hermione tried to push her hair from her face, but found her hands were tied with rope. She tried to stand, but toppled over because her feet were bound as well. She sat down and swore.

"I couldn't agree more," said a voice next to her. She started in surprise and turned toward the sound.

"Who's there?" she demanded. "Let me go."

"I would if I could, sweetheart," drawled the voice, obviously male and edging closer. She could barely make out a human shape next to her, holding out a pair of bound hands. "I'm in the same kit that you are."

"Who are you?" she asked again.

"Who are you?" he threw back at her.

"I'm not saying anything until you tell me who you are," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. The man sounded familiar, somehow, but she couldn't place it. She just wanted some light to chase away the wretched darkness. For some reason the cave brought back memories of the Horcrux hunt…

"My name is Kyle." He paused before finishing. "Kyle Walker."

Hermione couldn't help but gasp as she recognized his name and placed the voice. "But you're the television star, Kangaroo Kyle! I've seen your show, my parents love it. What are you doing here?"

"Tell me your story, sweetheart," he said, "and I'll finish mine." She could feel him next to her, and having seen his bushwalking show several times, could picture his dark hair, subtle stubble, and warm blue eyes. She knew he was well-built and probably wearing jeans and a white shirt.

"Hermione Granger," she finally replied, a little thrown by finding herself stuck in a dark cave with a local celebrity.

"So what are you doing tied up in this lovely place?" he asked conversationally. She felt his hands on hers and gave a little yelp. "Relax, I'm just trying to work on your ropes."

"You can't loosen them, they're probably…" she trailed off as she realized she was trapped with a local Muggle celebrity who wouldn't know an Unraveling Charm. "They're special."

"And how do you know that?" he asked, leaning in close. "Why are you here, Hermione Granger?"

"I'm not really sure," she said, "although I think it has something to do with my work."

"What do you do then?" he asked, continuing to work at the knots.

"Actually, I just left my job in London to start a new one here in Sydney." She paused. "Wait, are we still in Sydney? Do you know where we are?"

"I don't think we're far. I'm guessing we're in some old smuggler's cave on the coast." He swore under his breath as the knots stayed tight and he pulled away. "If we could get these off, I could get us out easily."

"You might as well give up, they won't come undone without a—" She almost said 'wand' but stopped herself. She sat up straighter and tried to work the kinks out of her shoulders. "Never mind. What happened to you? Why are you here?"

Her eyes were adjusting in the dim light, and Hermione was fairly certain Kyle shook his head bitterly. "I'll tell you if you tell me," he said, glancing at her. She could see a dim reflection in his eyes that seemed sad, and she nodded.

"Well, I was in the park scouting," he said. "Just me and my producer, out at Marley Head, when these two guys appeared out of nowhere—with you over their shoulders." He paused and shook his head. "Literally. One minute the beach was empty, the next minute they were practically on top of us. They were dressed funny but they looked bad, if you know what I mean. One of them shouted something and killed Henry just like that – a flash of light and he was dead on the ground. For some reason the other bloke stopped him from killing me. They knocked me out and brought us here. I've no idea how they did it, it was the most incredible thing I've ever seen." He stopped again, his voice soft. "And horrible."

Hermione could feel the man's sadness and wished she could reach out to comfort him. She certainly knew how painful it was to lose someone so suddenly; she could only imagine his shock at seeing a friend killed by magic.

"So tell me your tale," Kyle said, clearing his throat. "Especially since they seemed to have got you first. We've plenty time, unless you know some way out of this."

"Not yet, no," Hermione murmured. She adjusted herself on the uncomfortable rocks. "What time is it? How long was I out?"

"We've been here about six hours, by my best guess." She could feel him shrug next to her. "Why? Are you going to keep stalling or tell me your side of this strange story?"

Hermione gathered her thoughts, trying to form them into something that made sense when she really wasn't sure what was going on. "Well, I had just got off a plane from London when I was attacked at the airport. I remember struggling, but he knocked me unconscious and apparently brought me here."

"You were kidnapped from the Sydney airport?" Kyle asked, the disbelief evident in his voice. "I'm hoping the police noticed and are on their way?"

"Not exactly," Hermione hedged. "At least, I doubt anyone saw what happened, but I'm hoping someone will figure it out."

"How is it possible to be kidnapped from the middle of a major international airport without anyone seeing anything?"

Hermione thought about her answer. "It's a bit like three people appearing out of nowhere, I suppose."

"Touché," he muttered. "Well, if no one knows, how is anyone going to figure it out?" he asked.

"I left a clue."

"And will it just magically lead them right to us?" he asked with a bitter laugh.

"In a way," Hermione said, thinking about the spell she'd just barely managed to cast on her cappuccino cup. It was a long shot, that someone would even find it, let alone begin to piece together enough information to track her down, but she couldn't give up hope, especially knowing that Ron had come. She shook her head of doubts. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but trust me—I think he'll figure it out."

"Who?" Kyle demanded.

"My boyfriend," Hermione replied. The image of Ron standing at the airport with her parents was foremost in her mind. She didn't know how or why he had come, but he was in Sydney, and she had every confidence in him that he would somehow, eventually figure out what had happened to her and get help.

"And is he a wizard or something?" asked Kyle. "Because I can't think of any other way he's going to find us out here if he doesn't even know you're gone."

"Actually," Hermione started, and she couldn't help but give a nervous laugh. "Never mind. He was an Auror, though."

"Which is a what? Someone who finds their kidnapped girlfriends in the bush?"

"Not exactly." And now she was laughing full voice, her nerves pouring out in the only way they could, given both the seriousness and the ridiculousness of her situation.

Kyle was silent, and Hermione sensed he was not happy with her reaction. Remembering he had just lost a friend, she took a deep breath and decided that since he was mixed up in this already, he deserved to know some truth.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "You must think I'm horrible. I don't mean to make light of what's happened."

She could see him shake his head. "You're not telling me everything, Hermione Granger. Since we're stuck here together, it would be nice if you would share a bit more."

Hermione sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry," she said again. "Look, I don't know how you got mixed up in this, other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If these men are who I think they are, you're lucky they didn't kill you. But since you're here you should know what's going on—at least, as much as I can figure out."

"Go on, then," he said. He sounded so much like Ron in his skeptical impatience that Hermione paused, suddenly homesick for Ron and desperately missing his irritated exasperation.

"How about some light first?" she murmured. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She was fairly certain she'd manage the spell, as long as her wand was nearby. Murmuring under her breath, she opened her eyes and was pleased to see a small set of blue flames dancing on the ground in front of her. It lit the cave just enough for her to catch the look on Kyle's face. It was dirty and scratched, and his eyes were wide.

"How did you do that?" he demanded.

"It's just something I learned when I was eleven." She shrugged, remembering some of the first blue bell flames she had conjured at Hogwarts.

"I learned how to wrestle a wallaby when I was eleven, not make fire out of thin air," he said. "And it's blue. So will it burn these ropes off our wrists?"

"It might," she replied, surprised at his quick thinking. "Why didn't I think of that?"

He held his wrists over the blue flames, but pulled back quickly. "Too hot that close. I'd like my hands whole, not well-done. What else you got?

"Not much without my wand," she murmured, her brief hope quickly dashed as she held her hands near the flame. She could never stand it long enough to burn the through the tough fibers of the ropes binding her wrists, if it even worked against the magic she was fairly sure kept the ropes from unraveling.

"Hm, something else for you to explain," Kyle said. "Start talking—beginning with that blue fire."

Hermione sighed and began. "All right. I can't really tell you everything, so let's just say I can do things other people can't."

"So can I," he murmured, shaking his head. "But not like that. Is that why you were kidnapped?"

"No," she replied, thinking out loud. "I was working on something back home that I don't think someone wanted me to work on. I was threatened that if I didn't stop, my parents would be hurt, so I came to Sydney to protect them." She stopped, trying to put the pieces together. "Only there must be more to it. I think maybe whomever was threatening them was really after me, or else the case I was working on was much more important that I thought it was."

There was a harsh clapping from the mouth of the cave. "Right on both counts. Brilliant, as always, Granger."

Yet another voice she recognized and couldn't place. She saw her attacker step forward, grey eyes flashing: Saxton Scabior, the Snatcher who had captured her once before. Next to him stood Gregory Goyle, his face hideously scarred by the Fiendfyre Vincent Crabbe had conjured and failed to control in the Room of Requirement.

And behind them stood one of the last people she would have expected to see in Australia.

* * *

Chapter 7

"So that's why you called me?" asked Katherine Kelly, sitting across the table from Ron in a small cafe at the Sydney airport. "A hunch and a cappuccino cup?"

Ron frowned at her. "It says 'Help-Hermione' on it. What more do you need?"

Katherine was silent as she studied him. She was obviously thinking, and Ron felt himself growing more and more impatient as she took her time trying to put everything together. It seemed obvious to him, yet for someone who worked in the Office of Magical Intelligence, she was being awfully slow about it.

"I'm not being slow," she said. "I'm being deliberate—careful."

"Are you reading my mind?" Ron demanded. "Because that's private!"

"No, your face says it all," she said, shaking her head. "And I believe you, so I have no reason to dig through your brain, even if I could. We just need someplace to start."

"What do you mean?"

Katherine raised her eyebrows. "You were an Auror. How would you go about finding a missing person?"

Ron thought about it. He had only worked a missing person case a few times, but they had always started by interviewing the witnesses and canvassing the last place the victim had been seen. When he told her as much, she shook her head again.

"Only we're in Muggle territory, and I'm guessing no one saw anything or the police would be all over the airport. Although…" She stood abruptly, finishing her drink. "Let's go. Perhaps security caught something on camera."

Ron nodded. He had heard of such things in important Muggle areas, though he had never seen them. He had no idea how they would get a hold of such information, however, and asked Katherine how she intended to do so as they walked purposefully down the terminal.

"I have some authority," she said. She pulled out a badge as they approached the nearest airport employee. "Can you please direct me to the security office? I'm investigating the disappearance of a young woman on a recent flight from England."

The worker glanced at her badge and straightened immediately. "Of course, ma'am. This way."

He led them into the heart of the airport toward the main security office. Ron leaned toward Katherine and whispered, "How did you do that?"

"A sort of Confundus Charm on the badge," she murmured back with a pleased smile. "I really do have the authority to do this, only Muggles aren't suppose to know I even exist so it involves a bit of unfortunate deception."

"A magical badge," Ron nodded appreciatively. "I would have liked one of those."

"Oh, I'm sure they've got them in British intelligence," she said, stepping into a small room with Ron. The airport employee backed out and told them the head of security would be right with them.

"Not that I know of," said Ron. He didn't even know if there was a magical intelligence office in the British ministry, but he would never admit it. Instead, he glanced around. The room was plain and simple, with a table, two chairs and a large mirror; he felt like he was being questioned rather than about to ask questions.

"Of course you don't know," said Katherine. "Intelligence is secret. I'll have to Obliviate you after all this."

Ron stopped and stared at her. "Are you serious?"

She laughed as another man entered wearing a more official looking uniform. "Of course not. OMI humour."

"Hilarious." Ron turned toward the officer who had just entered. He was a short, rotund man with a big black mustache and beady black eyes. He looked a bit comical, truth be told, but as soon as he opened his mouth Ron could tell the man meant business.

"Director Roberts," he introduced himself curtly. He glanced at Katherine's badge without even acknowledging it. "I've been told you are investigating the disappearance of a passenger?"

"Yes, sir," said Katherine, tucking the magical badge back into her pocket. "I'm Katherine Kelly, and this is Ronald Weasley. He was meeting the young woman when she failed to arrive."

The officer nodded slowly, narrowed eyes studying them. "And you're certain she was on the plane? Didn't just change her mind and stay home in her pajamas?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, as far as we can tell, she was on her scheduled flight," replied Katherine.

"And you're sure she didn't find another way home from the airport?" he asked.

"No, sir. It's been several hours now and we haven't heard from her. And we found this."

She handed the director the cup. He frowned skeptically. "'Help-Hermione'? What sort of name is Hermione?"

"British, sir," replied Katherine. "She was coming to stay with her parents."

The officer raised his eyebrows as he handed the cup back. "And where are they now?"

Katherine gave a delicate cough. "They've gone home, sir. I told them we'd handle it here and call them. I put a protective detail on them as well."

"Of course you did," murmured the director, his tone sarcastic. "Well, what do you want me to do then?"

Ron felt his irritation with the gruff man finally get the better of him. "How about searching the airport for her? How about—"

Katherine put a hand on his arm as she faced Roberts. "We'd actually like to see the security tapes from the time her flight arrived. We were hoping we might see something."

Roberts gave her a disparaging look. "Something my people missed?"

"No sir, but if she's been taken, it would have been very…discreet."

The security director snorted. "People don't disappear like magic from major airports, Ms. Kelly. Especially mine. But you're welcome to look. Follow me."

He led them into a second room down the hallway, a much larger area filled with all sorts of Muggle televisions, each showing a different view of the airport. Several other security officers were watching the screens, carefully following everything that happened in the airport. Ron couldn't imagine how they had not seen what happened to Hermione, unless it had been magically concealed; the sudden thought alarmed him.

"Thomas!" barked the director. "Cooperate with this young lady here. She's looking for someone. I've got to get some coffee." He grunted at them and left. Katherine gave Ron an amused look, then turned and smiled brightly at Thomas.

"Thank you for helping us," she said, showing him her badge. His eyes widened, and he smiled nervously. "Our missing person was on flight QF320. Can you show us the security footage from her gate at about six o'clock this morning?"

"Sure thing, ma'am," replied Thomas. His fingers flew over the keyboard in front of him, and Ron shook his head in amazement at the achievements of Muggles. Soon Thomas had brought up video footage of the gate where Hermione's plane had landed, and sure enough, they saw her come through the gate with her shoulder bag and head toward baggage claim and customs.

Katherine nodded when Ron pointed her out, his heart racing. She was there, in Australia, so he was right—something had obviously happened in the airport and she had left the cup as a clue. "Can you stay with her, Thomas?" Katherine asked, leaning in closer. "We know she made it through customs, but probably not much further."

The officer nodded and began typing again. They watched as Hermione waited for her luggage, went through customs, and then stopped for a cappuccino. She continued toward the arrivals terminal where Ron and her parents had been waiting. And then Ron noticed someone behind her, someone he had met years ago and would never forget…

"I know that man!" he exclaimed. Thomas jumped in surprise.

"Which one?" asked Katherine, squinting at the screen. "Wait, I know him, too."

Ron glanced at her in surprise. "How do you know him?"

She stood up, looking grim. "I've been watching him for months, that’s how. And you?"

"He…" Ron trailed off, glancing around the room. They were surrounded by Muggles; he couldn't very well tell her what had happened five years ago during one of the greatest wizarding conflicts England had ever seen. He quickly cast a Muffliato spell, hoping that would keep anyone from overhearing.

"He was a Snatcher in England during the war," he said softly. "I know because he captured us—me, Hermione, and Harry. Brought us in." Ron felt his lips curl at the memory. The man on the screen brought back dark thoughts—of Malfoy Manor, of Hermione's torture, of their narrow escape to Shell Cottage. He shook his head of the memories, desperate to just get on with finding Hermione.

Katherine nodded sympathetically. "What else do you know about him?" she asked.

Ron shrugged. "He was at the Battle of Hogwarts, but we never found him, and we assumed he was dead. But a lot of Death Eaters who escaped went underground afterwards, so I suppose he must have survived that way." He stopped at gave her a pointed look. "Why are you watching him?'

"He not only escaped, but recovered from some fairly serious injuries, and continued his particular line of work down here," she replied.

"Snatching?" asked Ron, frowning.

"No, basic criminal for hire," she said. "Only it appears he might be falling back on bad habits. Look." She pointed at the screen, where Hermione had turned toward the gruff man behind her, an angry look on her face. It turned to surprise when she realized who was following her. Ron saw the former Snatcher put his hand to her back and knew there was a wand on her from the way Hermione stiffened.

And then they seemed to simply disappear.

Ron just stared at the screen: they had both melted into the background. Whether it was a Disillusionment Charm or something else, he couldn't tell exactly by watching the tape. But now he knew for sure now that Hermione had been kidnapped—and that she was in danger from a known war criminal.

He glanced around the room at the oblivious security guards. Thomas did not seem to have even noticed that the person he had been following on camera had simply vanished without a trace. It was if he had been magicked to ignore it. Ron realized it was probably a Muggle-Repelling Charm, and feared even more for Hermione's life if no one around her could see or hear her.

"You can end your spell now," said Katherine softly, giving him a sympathetic look. "We've got our lead."

He released the spell, and Katherine gave Thomas a winning smile. "Thank you," she said. "We've seen what we needed to see. We'll take it from here."

Thomas gave her a confused smile. "If you say so, ma'am. Good luck with it!" He didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that two people on the screen in front of him had simply disappeared; apparently the Muggle-Repelling Charm worked even on camera. Ron followed Katherine out of the security area and back through the airport.

"So what's our lead?" he finally asked, his voice bitter. "Considering they disappeared from sight?"

"Not here," she murmured. "Let's go back to OMI."

Ron stopped and waved his arms. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what you think's going on!" He knew he sounded like an over-reactive boyfriend, but he was tired and hungry and worried; he couldn't help it.

"I have something to show you, but I can't do it here," she replied calmly. She took his arm and guided him out. He gathered she was used to dealing with emotional people since she did not seem at all upset by his temper. "And I need to check in with OMI. We'll head back there, and I'll tell you everything I know, I promise."

Nodding reluctantly, Ron followed her out of the airport. When they were far enough away, he took her arm again and let her take him to the Australian Ministry through a Side-Along Apparation. They appeared directly in her office, yet another perk he'd never seen in London; even Aurors had always had to go through the Atrium, no matter how important the case they were working on.

Ron sat down and ran a hand through his hair. He was growing more impatient by the moment, desperate for news of Hermione now that he knew who was involved. What worried him even more was knowing that someone must have hired the former Snatcher, who was simply not clever enough to lure Hermione to Australia and kidnap her on his own. But who was behind it, and why?

Katherine stepped into the hall and spoke with a passing wizard. Stepping back into her office, she took a small compact from her desk, pulled out her wand, and tapped it. Instead of her own image appearing in the mirror, a dirty wizard with grey eyes appeared, leering cruelly. Ron couldn't help but grimace as he remembered the horrible night they had spent in Malfoy Manor, in part because of the man in front of him.

"Saxton Scabior," Katherine said. "Currently under OMI surveillance for international smuggling."

"Smuggling?" Ron exclaimed in surprise. "In Australia? What's he smuggling?"

"Rare magical creatures," she replied. "Including house-elves."

Ron grimaced again, finding the very thought of house elves being treated in such a way despicable after having been with Hermione for so long. "Why are you involved?" Ron asked. "Smuggling doesn't sound like something for your department."

She shrugged. "It usually isn't, only we suspect there's more to it." She tapped the compact and another image appeared: a short-haired man with bushy eyebrows, grisly scars crisscrossing a dull face set with small black eyes. Ron groaned.

"Don’t tell me you're watching him too," he said, recognizing the former Slytherin immediately.

Katherin nodded. "Gregory Goyle. What do you know?"

"I went to school with the bloody prat," Ron grumbled. "He's an idiot ten times over. Are you telling me he's involved too? I thought he was in St. Mungo's—completely insane after what happened at the Battle of Hogwarts."

She shook his head. "You're out of touch, then. He was released about six weeks ago and has been here ever since. We've been watching him because he showed up with Scabior. They've been spending a lot of time coming and going from here." She showed him a picture of a large stone mansion, set high on a rocky cliff overlooking the ocean. It was old and beautiful, and yet for some reason Ron was reminded of Malfoy Manor once again.

"What's that then?" he asked, starting to grow annoyed with the slow pace of enigmatic information Katherine was sharing.

"Cliffhaven Estate. One of Australia's most prominent wizarding families lives there." She tapped the compact and a third man appeared, a large, stocky wizard with wavy grey hair and a salt-and-pepper goatee. He had shrewd blue eyes that Ron was sure he recognized, only he couldn't place them.

"Is that where you think they've taken her?" asked Ron.

"That depends," said Katherine. "Was she working on something to do with smuggling?"

Ron shook his head as he thought back over everything that Hermione had told him about her new job. "No, I don't think so. She used to work on house-elf rights, but that was over six months ago. She's with the Wizengamot now. She was working on getting old pure-blood laws struck from the books, like the requirement for membership in the Wizengamot and becoming Chief Warlock."

"Pure-blood laws?" Katherine frowned. "But we dropped those ages ago. Loads of half-bloods sit on our council, the Minister for Magic himself is a Muggle-born. Surely the British Ministry doesn't follow those policies anymore?"

"Of course not," said Ron, feeling defensive. "Voldemort reinstated and enforced it when he took over five years ago, but everyone who was sacked got their job back after the war." Ron paused, trying to puzzle it out. "It wasn't until after the last election when Hermione began working to eliminate the pure-blood laws completely that people started complaining."

"Like who?" she asked, leaning forward.

"The Malfoys, for one," Ron said. "And a few other old, rich pure-blood families – the Parkinsons, the Notts, the Flints."

Katherine showed him the compact again. "And the Greengrasses?" she asked.

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed, suddenly recognizing the man in the mirror: Charleston Greengrass had been appointed to the position of Chief Warlock after the last general election. It was no secret he wanted to be Minister for Magic following his tenure on the Wizengamot, but it was also no secret that the Greengrass family was having financial problems that would probably hold him back from advancing much further. Given his family's blood status and tacit support of pure-blood policies during the war, it made sense that Charleston would object to banning the old pure-blood laws--especially when money was running low, and prestige and honor were all the proud family had left. "How do you know him?"

"I told you, the Greengrasses are one of our most famous wizarding families. They live at Cliffhaven Estate. Charleston Greengrass eventually moved to England with his wife, Aurelia, who was from Cornwall, but his father and brother remain active in Australian society." She paused. "And probably our smuggling ring."

Ron stared at her as several pieces of the puzzle began to slowly fall into place. "So there is a connection."

"There might be," Katherine said, looking puzzled. "It's vague, though, especially since Hermione wasn't working on smuggling. I think we're missing something."

Ron shook his head. "No, it makes sense. Come on, I'll fill you in on the way."

"And where are we going?" she asked as Ron took her arm.

"Cliffhaven, of course," he replied, determined to find Hermione before politics and personal vengeance ruined more than her career.

* * *

Chapter Eight

Hermione stared at the woman in front of her. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, thoroughly confused.

Her captor leered nastily; it made her face singularly unattractive. "Figure it out, Mudblood. You were always top of the class."

Hermione didn't even raise an eyebrow at the insult. She narrowed her eyes instead and tried to puzzle out what was going on.

"You sent the letters," she decided. "Since it certainly wasn't one of them."

Goyle grinned stupidly; Scabior just gave her a snide look. The woman in front of them drew closer. "Naturally." She stopped and looked at Kyle, frowning. "Tell me again why you brought him here." She was obviously speaking to the men behind her.

"He was in the way," Goyle grunted. "And Scabior wouldn't let me kill him."

She turned slowly. "He wouldn't let you kill him? Why ever not?" Her voice sounded sweet…yet steely.

"We Apparated on top of him with the Mudblood," said Scabior, glaring at Hermione and Kyle as if it were their fault. "Goyle killed his friend before I could stop him making a bigger mess of things."

The woman nodded slowly as she turned back to Kyle. She crouched down and stared into his eyes. Kyle gazed back, defiant.

"And how is having a famous Muggle prisoner not a bigger mess?" she finally asked. Hermione saw Goyle grin, as Scabior swallowed and tried to pull himself out of the hole he had dug.

"Better than two bodies on the beach," he muttered.

She whirled on them. "You're a wizard, you imbecile! You can dispose of bodies! Living prisoners are a bit more difficult."

"Obliviate him," shrugged Scabior. "Or go ahead kill him now. He's just some Muggle."

"I'll kill him," said Goyle, sounding far too enthusiastic.

Hermione scooted over toward Kyle as best as she could. "No! You can't do that--he didn't do anything."

"Wrong place, wrong time and all that," murmured their captor. "Not my problem."

"I don't even know where I am," said Kyle. "Just like I don't know who you are or what's going on." Hermione sensed he was digging for information; unfortunately, their captor did as well.

"You're at my family's estate, of course," she said. She waved her arms around the dark cave. "Sorry I couldn't show you to the spare rooms, but my grandfather doesn't appreciate me bringing dirty guests upstairs."

"Your grandfather?" asked Hermione. "Here, in Australia?"

"Do you actually know her?" Kyle murmured in surprise. Hermione nodded, her attention focused in front of her. The woman laughed scornfully.

"Yes, my father's father. Surely you have those where you're from?" She shook her head, clearly growing impatient with the situation. "My, my, Hermione, you really don't know everything, do you?"

"We hardly talked at school. How would I know your family was from Australia?" asked Hermione. Deep down, she was rather annoyed at being caught by surprise.

"I know about you!" the woman hissed. "I know all about you. Hermione Granger, Gryffindor. Prefect. War Hero. Head Girl. Rising star at the Ministry." She laughed bitterly. "You make the lot of us look bad, Granger."

Hermione stared up at her defiantly. "Daphne Greengrass. Slytherin. Bully. Coward. Left Hogwarts before the final battle. Not heard from since." She paused to let it sink in. "You make yourself look bad."

"Shut up, Granger," Daphne hissed, her eyes flashing in the dim light of the cave. "I'm not about to let you ruin everything--again."

"Ruin what?" Hermione demanded. "Oh, you mean the pure-blood laws? What, are you scared you'll be run out of town by Muggle-borns?"

"Scared, no," she replied. "I'm not scared of Mudbloods. Concerned, yes. And I won't let it happen."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "So how do you intend to stop it?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Daphne murmured.

"Is that why I'm here?" Hermione demanded. "Is that why you lured me to Australia? To keep me from working on those laws? Because they don't need me to pass, you know."

"Okay, fine, we'll play the game." Daphne sighed melodramatically. She stood and paced the cave, her fine robes clashing with the dank dirtiness of the surroundings. Her hair was perfectly set, her nails finely manicured, yet Hermione thought Daphne Greengrass looked thin and pale, as if whatever was going on was slowly eating away at her.

"Yes, that's exactly why you're here. I need you out of the way."

"Why?"

"The vote is next week. Without you strong-arming the Wizengamot into accepting your pretty little plan for the rest of us, I'm fairly sure they'll leave the laws in place." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at Hermione. "They wouldn't dare say no to the great Harry Potter's best friend, the witch who defeated the Dark Lord. But if she's not around…well, I'm sure more than a few of them will simply let it go. Which is a start."

"That's all?" Hermione almost laughed. "You threatened my parents, brought me all the way down here, just to leave a few dusty old laws in the books? Laws that aren't even followed anymore?"

"Oh, they will be now," Daphne sneered. "My father will make sure of that."

"Your father?" Hermione asked. "What's he got to do with--oh." Daphne's father was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Hermione had talked to him on several occasions, and each time she had sensed his tacit disapproval of her work. She had no idea it had gone so far, though. Had he put his own daughter up to stopping Hermione's work? All to save the family's status?

"Of course not," Daphne said, as if reading her mind. "I'm just doing what he couldn't."

"Why?"

"You know, for a smart girl, you really are dumb." Daphne laughed, but kept talking, as if she needed to share her plan with someone, anyone--even her prisoner. "The laws stay in place so my father can be Minister of Magic, not some sodding Muggle-lover like Kingsley Shacklebolt. And once my father is Minister, we can start to rebuild the weak wreck of wizarding society you created with your little war."

"The wizarding world is better off now than it was five years ago," Hermione said, shaking her head at the insanity of it. She was certain she was missing something. "Besides, everyone knows Charleston Greengrass doesn't have the financial means to run for Minister." She paused. "Is that what this is really about? Or is there more?"

Daphne silenced her with a wave of her wand. "Shut up, Granger. You don't know what you're talking about--and you never will now that they've mucked things up." She turned to Scabior and Goyle. "Get rid of them--both of them. We've got a shipment coming in, and I don't want to deal with any more complications."

"What do you want--" Goyle started, but Daphne cut him off.

"I don't care how you do it, just kill them. Immediately."

Scabior shrugged as Goyle grinned maniacally. Hermione was pulled roughly to her feet, her hands still bound. Kyle stood on his own; he smiled and nodded at her, as if trying to give her courage. But she was a Gryffindor, and she'd been in far worse situations than this. She'd fought Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, at the Battle of Hogwarts. And now one psychotic Slytherin was about to end it all? It still didn't make sense.

"Get over it, Granger," called Daphne Greengrass as she made her way toward the cave entrance. "You've finally lost this time."

"I don't think so," said a voice from the shadows. Daphne stopped in her tracks to find a wand in her face. She reached for her own, but a hand grabbed it roughly away. "You're not going anywhere." Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as a familiar face stepped into the light, smiling grimly.

Ron.

Scabior and Goyle turned and raised their wands, but before they could get off a single spell, a second person stepped into the cave, a tall woman with long blond hair. Hermione frowned, wondering who the attractive woman was and why Ron had shown up with her of all people. Why not Harry or Ginny?

"Drop them," the stranger said, her voice firm. She obviously had some experience with dueling. Goyle dropped his wand immediately, but Scabior hesitated. The woman motioned at him, but instead of letting his wand fall to the ground, he leaned over as if to set it down gently, then cast a spell at her and leapt behind a large rock. She deflected it easily and sent a jet of red light back, blasting bits of the rock all over the cave. Goyle grabbed his wand back and scrambled behind a set of wooden crates. Kyle stepped in front of Hermione to try and protect her as Goyle and Scabior began firing at the woman.

Ron grabbed Daphne around the chest before she could run away. She tried to twist her way out of his grip; apparently her thin frame belied a strong agility. Ron struggled as if trying to hold a slippery eel, swearing as they wrestled.

"Ron! Bind her!" Hermione called. She ducked as Scabior deflected a spell that flew their way. It caught Kyle in the calf, and he fell to the ground. She dragged him as far away as she could, propping him up behind a large stack of crates and boxes.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled.

"I'm fine!" she yelled back. "Don't get distracted."

Even as she said that, four more wizards appeared at the mouth of the cave, wands raised. Daphne shouted orders at them, and Ron glanced up, swearing again. He pointed his wand at Daphne and muttered a spell; she dropped like a rock. He let her fall and turned toward the new guards, taking one out before the rest had entered the cave. The other three ran for cover; it was now five against three, but Hermione wasn't armed, and she couldn't leave an injured friend.

"So that's your boyfriend then?" asked Kyle, gasping in pain. "The new guy with the magic stick?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile as she helped him sit up against the crates. "Yes, that's him. I told you he'd figure it out."

"Hopefully he won't get us all killed," Kyle grumbled. Spells flew around the cave as Ron and the blond woman fought against the others. Hermione pulled back Kyle's burned trousers to reveal the ugly wound beneath. If she had her wand, she could at least cast a spell to relieve the pain. She glanced around to see if there was something she could wrap it with to stop the bleeding, but couldn't find anything.

"I've had worse," he said, gritting his teeth.

Next to them, a sudden shower of dirt covered them as a spell hit too close for comfort. "I need my wand," Hermione muttered.

"You've got one too?" he asked.

"Of course I do, I'm a witch," she replied, throwing caution to the wind. He'd already seen so much there was no point holding back. "And I should be helping them, not hiding."

"You're protecting me," he murmured, giving her a weak smile. Another spell hit the wall of the cave just over their head, sending more rock down all over them.

"You'll be fine," Hermione said, glancing around area where they'd taken cover to see if there was anything she could contribute to the fight.

"Especially if you stop chatting up my girlfriend, tosspot," said a gruff voice behind her. She whirled to see Ron creeping toward them from behind a pile of rocks and couldn't help but throw her arms around him when he finally arrived. He grinned in that foolish way he had, a look of surprise on his face. Kyle raised his eyebrows at their reunion.

"I don't think I could if I wanted to, mate," he replied, shaking his head. He coughed as a spasm of pain wracked his body. Hermione turned to Ron, holding out her hand.

"Ron, can I have your wand? Just for a minute?"

He handed it over immediately, no questions asked. She cast a quick pain relief spell on Kyle's leg and was glad to see him visibly relax. Then she called for her wand, certain it was somewhere in the cave, given that neither Goyle or Scabior seemed bright enough to dispose of it and she'd already managed the bluebell flames. It came flying to her within seconds, and she managed to find Kyle's dagger as well.

"Thanks," he said as she handed it to him. "For whatever you did to my leg especially. Now maybe I can fight back a bit."

"That's good because we're probably going to have company soon," whispered another voice. Hermione saw the strange blond woman Ron had arrived with and gave him a questioning look. He coughed in embarrassment before introducing her.

"This is Katherine Kelly. She works in Magical Intelligence. She helped me find you."

Katherine nodded at Hermione, but was staring at Kyle. "You look familiar," she said. "Do I know you?"

"I doubt it," he replied. "Since I don't carry a magical stick. I'm Kyle Walker, ordinary bloke and ready to get the hell out of here."

Katherine frowned as if trying to place the name, then her eyes went wide. "Kangaroo Kyle! I love that show!"

Hermione almost burst out laughing at the inanity of it as another spell crashed into the wall above them. There was the sound of several more bodies rushing into the cave. Ron swore.

"How many goons does she have around here?" he muttered. Kyle glanced over the rock.

"Not too many that we can't take them out with three magic sticks and a big knife." He held up his dagger and grinned. Ron nodded approvingly and clapped him on the back.

"I think I like you after all."

Katherine was nodding appreciatively as well. "What you thinking?"

Hermione gave her a look of surprise. "Do you always defer to Muggle bush hunters on assignment?"

"No, but he's the only one of us without a wand, so he's at a distinct disadvantage when it comes to strategy, plus he likely knows the terrain." She paused and gave Hermione a pointed look. "And you're welcome."

Hermione muttered a reply as Kyle and Katherine started to plan their attack and escape. She turned to Ron, desperately wanting to talk to him, to touch him, but he had poked his head around the crates to peer into the cave. He fell back awkwardly with a grunt, swearing profusely.

"Ron!" she cried. He'd been hit in the shoulder, but shook his head as she knelt over him.

"I'm fine. Let's just get on with this botched rescue already."

But there was silence from the other side of the crates. This time Hermione, wand raised and ready, peered cautiously out into the cave. Their attackers appeared to have either stopped for the moment or left altogether. She frowned, wondering if they were waiting for them to relax and let down their guard.

"You can come out now," called a new voice. "I think we've got them all."

Ron's eyes went wide. "What's he doing here?" he asked.

"You didn't come together?" asked Hermione. When Ron shook her head, she frowned, wondering if it could be a trick, but of course he would have thought of that.

"It's all right, Hermione," called the voice. "It's really me. You can come out." And a silver stag bounded across the dark cave, illuminating the boxes and crates stacked everywhere.

"What the hell, Harry?" asked Ron, standing with his right arm held to his chest. "You're riding in on my rescue."

Harry stood in the mouth of the cave and merely raised his eyebrows. "Sorry. Thought you'd appreciate a bit of help on this one."

"Had it covered, thanks," Ron muttered. "How the hell did you figure it out anyway?"

"He didn't," replied a new voice. "I did."

Ron swore again, and Hermione was tempted to join him. Draco Malfoy strode up next to Harry, smirking grandly. Ron rushed forward, looking ready to physically attack the former Slytherin. But Draco was holding Daphne roughly by the arms; he was obviously enjoying whatever role he had played in whatever had just happened.

Katherine Kelly looked slightly confused, but strode up to Harry and held out her hand. "Katherine Kelly. You must be Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Harry returned her handshake with a wry smile. "Are you sure about that?"

"Absolutely," she replied. "You have some idea of what's going on then?"

"I think so. I got your letter from George, Ron," Harry replied, nodding at Ron. "And then Draco appeared with some interesting information, and we managed to work it all out." He grimaced. "Together."

"I didn't enjoy it either, Potter," said Malfoy. "But my in-laws will appreciate it."

"Your in-laws?" asked Ron. Then he seemed to understand. "Right. Your in-laws. Lovely lot, those Greengrasses."

"Watch what you're saying about my wife, Weasel," snapped Draco. It was so much like being back in school that Hermione almost lost it. She coughed to cover her slightly hysterical laughter. Kyle gave her a curious look, and she just shook her head.

"We're glad you're here," she said, stepping in to end whatever confrontation might be starting. "Both of you."

"Yes, well I'm not," snapped Daphne Greengrass. She lifted up her head and glared at them. Her hair was now mussed and there was dirt on her face, but the look in her eyes was furious. "You've ruined everything."

Draco yanked on her shoulders and turned her around. "Lucky for you we did. Charles is not going to be happy with you, Daphne. Let's go."

Harry raised his eyebrows as he watched Draco walk Daphne toward the entrance of the cave. "If he weren't such a bloody prat, he might make a decent Auror."

Ron snorted as they followed. He still held his arm to his chest where he'd been hit by some sort of Cutting spell. Hermione leaned her head on his other shoulder and sighed. It seemed so long ago and yet it had only been a day or two since she'd said good bye to him at the airport. So much had happened she could hardly think straight.

Beside them, Kyle was leaning on Katherine for support and pointing out the landscape he had come to scout out below on the beaches. Harry started telling Ron how they had arrived at Cliffhaven and found the cave just as more of Daphne's guards had arrived. In front of them all, Draco was leading Daphne up a path back toward the imposing house. It skirted the edge of the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Hermione frowned, her instincts suddenly screaming at her that something was wrong.

Draco's head snapped back. He grunted and doubled over, blood gushing from his nose. Just as quick, Daphne stepped on his foot, kneed him in the groin, threw an elbow at his throat, and turned straight toward them. Before anyone could stop her, she ran down the path, bowled into Hermione, and dragged them both over the side of the cliff toward the rocks below.

* * *

Chapter Nine

Ron watched Daphne Greengrass rush madly toward them, but before he could do anything, she had slammed into Hermione and dragged both of them over the side of the cliff. He reached toward them with a shout, but they were gone too fast, plunging toward the rocky beach below.

A dozen things flew through his tired mind almost immediately, but his gut instinct--the one idea he did not have to think about--was to turn on the spot and Apparate, concentrating hard on Hermione and on the beach. He'd get there before them and slow their fall and kill Daphne Greengrass slowly and painfully for all she had done to Hermione.

He landed awkwardly on the sand, stumbling as his ankle turned beneath him. Swearing as he reached for his wand, he glanced up to see Hermione twisting through the air with Daphne, but they were falling in slow motion. Of course: Hermione thought even quicker than any of them ever could, and had slowed their fall so that they landed with a hard, but not life threatening, thud in the sand.

Limping toward them, Ron struggled to get in a shot at Daphne, but they were instantly rolling around so fast and furiously that he was too nervous about hitting Hermione. Then Daphne pinned her, smacked her across the face, and came up with Hermione's wand, pointed at her forehead.

"Get up," she snarled. Hermione's lip was bleeding, but she glared at Daphne until the woman hit her again and forcefully dragged her upright, wrapping a hand around her throat as Ron finally reached them.

"Drop your wand, Daphne," he gasped, his shoulder still burning, his ankle stiff. "Let her go and you'll be safe."

"Sod off, Weasley," Daphne snapped. "I'm not going to Azkaban."

"You will if you hurt her," Ron snapped back. "Don't be a fool."

"And don't be a bloody hero. She left you, you know. Left you, left England, left everything." Daphne laughed cruelly. "Why do you care?"

"I left because of you!" Hermione managed, her voice tight with pressure as Daphne continued to squeeze her throat. "But if you let me go, I can help you."

"You don't work for the Wizengamot anymore, Granger," Daphne reminded her. "So shut up." She cast a Full-Body Bind spell, and Ron saw Hermione's eyes flash with anger. She would be unable to even try to escape, frozen and held fast. It was all up to Ron.

"I must admit, this was unexpected," murmured Daphne, slowly moving away. "As was breaking up you lovebirds, but I'll take whatever I can get. You all deserve it after what you did."

"After what we did?" Ron repeated. He remembered his Auror training: it hadn't been that long, after all. He needed to keep her talking so he could both figure out a plan and try to understand the many layers of her treachery. He spared a quick glance at the clifftop and saw Katherine lying low, wand aimed at Daphne's retreat, but she was too far away to provide accurate cover. Harry was likely nearby then, though he hadn't heard the crack of Apparition. Unfortunately, Daphne was good: she saw him glance around and shook her head.

"Oh no," she shouted. "No--back off Potter! Back off or I will kill her!" She grinned almost maniacally, and Ron felt his stomach drop because he knew it was true. "And I know you wouldn't want to take your chances now you've come all the way down here, would you?" She murmured something into Hermione's ear, and Ron watched as she slowly disappeared: Daphne's arm now encircled empty air. Another Disillusionment Charm then--which meant if anyone tried to take out Daphne, they'd have no way of knowing whether they were hitting Hermione as well.

"Look, you like your pure-blood laws, I get it," Ron said, practically thinking out loud to buy time. "But why go through so much trouble to keep them, when they're not used much anyway?"

Daphne glared at him. "You'd never be able to put it together, Weasley."

Ron shrugged. "That's why I left the Ministry. I'm a slug. So tell me. What's in it for you?"

"My father will be Minister for Magic," Daphne started, but Ron interrupted her with a harsh bark of laughter.

"He'll never win, he hasn't the money to…" He trailed off as he remembered what Katherine had told him about the Greengrass smuggling operation, and suddenly it clicked. "Only you're getting it for him, aren't you? Smuggling in rare magical creatures from Australia."

"I need the money," Daphne snapped. "I'll buy every last vote I have to for my father to be Minister."

"Why? What's so important about that job?" Ron shook his head, still amazed at her desperation. "From the way Shacklebolt describes it, it sounds like a hell of a lot of dull, hard work."

"When my father is Minister, he can reshape wizarding society," Daphne said. "He can make sure Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers get what they deserve."

Ron nodded to keep her talking; he was fairly certain he saw Harry army-crawling behind some rocks about twenty meters away. They'd worked as a team long enough for Ron to know he had to distract Daphne long enough to give Harry time to get in place. Another minute or two should do it. He just hoped Harry realized the precarious situation Hermione was in before he took a shot.

"So it's just about payback then?" Ron gave her his best skeptical look. "That's just about the worst excuse for one of the most half-baked plots I've --"

"Shut it, Weasley!" she hissed, and she threw a Silencing Charm at him. He blocked it, though just barely as his arm and his leg and the fatigue of traveling halfway across the world were finally starting to slow his reflexes. He took a deep breath, though, and forced himself to focus. Just another minute…

"So you start smuggling to get the money to put your dad up for Minister. Once he's Minister, you'll finish what Voldemort started. And if you're caught doing anything wrong--including smuggling--he'll pardon you." Ron paused as Harry shook his head from behind a rock ten meters to the right; he didn't have a clear enough shot yet. "But why drag Hermione into this? Threatening her parents, kidnapping her?"

"You're so thick, Weasley," she said, laughing almost hysterically. "With Granger out of the way, the council would be free to vote against it, of course."

"You could have paid them," Ron said, feeling like he was stating the obvious, and still missing something.

"This was more fun," Daphne replied, and the look on her face was so ugly Ron knew it was personal. But why Hermione?

"What did she do to you, then?" He asked. He curled his fingers around his wand, trying to remain ready for whatever Harry had planned.

"She ruined my life," Daphne said disdainfully. "You all did. She was just the easiest to target first because taking her out fit perfectly with my other plans. You were next, but I suppose this will have to do for now."

"And how did we ruin your life?" Ron asked, more and more amazed at just how insane Daphne Greengrass truly was. He almost pitied Draco Malfoy marrying into her family, then decided the git probably deserved the lot of them. "By taking out the most evil wizard of all time and saving hundreds of lives?"

"You didn't save one," she whispered. "You let him die, in the room of Requirement."

Ron gaped at her. "Vincent Crabbe? You're avenging the death of Vincent Crabbe?" For a moment he wondered if she was referring to the same Vincent Crabbe he had known in school, and then he considered the attraction of old money and family connections and thought maybe they were a good fit after all.*

"You'd avenge the death of someone you loved, wouldn't you?" she asked, her voice very cold. Ron wanted to laugh in her face, but resisted the impulse because she could very well kill Hermione if he did. Crabbe might have been an idiot at Hogwarts--the biggest, most brainless git of them all--but apparently someone had seen something in him. Love was funny that way. And he knew deep down that he probably would seek revenge if anything happened to Hermione.

"Look, he died fighting," Ron finally answered, trying to say something diplomatic that wouldn't get Hermione killed, instead of what he was really thinking, which certainly would. "Both sides lost people. It happens in war."

"He died because of you, because of her, because of Harry Potter." She practically spat the last name on her list, and her eyes were suddenly wild. "Look Weasley, stop talking and tell Potter to back off."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, but he couldn't help a glance toward where Harry was still creeping closer, and it gave him away, and quicker than he would have thought possible, she cast a spell at the pile of rocks behind her. Harry stopped it easily with a Shield Charm, standing and facing her calmly as he dusted himself off.

"Crabbe killed himself," Harry said, his face dirty from crawling so far. He nodded at Ron, as if greeting him, but Ron understood the signal from their time together at the Ministry, and he cast a silent spell with his wand as Daphne focused on Harry now. "He set the Fiendfyre that destroyed the Room of Requirement. He was trying to kill us."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "If you had given yourself up sooner, Potter, he wouldn't have had to try. Look, this has been fun, but I need to leave now. Regroup, revise, replan. You won't win again."

She turned on the spot, as if to Apparate away, but nothing happened, and she whirled on Ron, firing a fierce Stunning Spell that he was expecting and blocked. He resisted the impulse to send one back, because he still didn't want to hit Hermione.

"Lift the jinx, Weasley," she snarled. "Or I'll kill her--and you can watch." She let the Disillusionment Charm fall, and Ron was relieved to see Hermione, still unharmed, but still frozen by the Full-Body Bind curse.

"Let her go first, Daphne," said Harry, edging closer to Ron so two wands were on her now. "There's no way out."

"There is with her," Daphne said. "I know what she means to you."

"Then take me," Ron said impulsively. "I'm not as important."

Daphne laughed. "Seriously, Weasley? You'd give yourself up for her?"

"Of course I would," Ron said. "And Potter could care less." He started a bluff, one he was hoping Harry would pick up on fast enough to make it believable.

"I know you're best mates," Daphne said. "Don't try to trick me."

"Take him," said Harry, lowering his wand. "He quit the Auror office. I couldn't care less what happens to him."

"Seriously?" asked Daphne, slightly surprised. "Then why are you even here?"

"National security," Harry replied, his voice matter-of-fact. "And Hermione. My wife is good friends with her. Give me Granger and you can have Weasley. You could even try ransoming him, he's got a big enough family."

Ron just about choked, since he couldn't imagine Harry seriously suggesting such a thing and his family actually complying. Shaking his head, he stepped toward her. She seemed to be considering it. "I'll do it. Just let her go."

Harry stepped forward as well. "Take him. Run. I'll give you a head start."

That stopped her, and she glared at them. Ron could see the change in her face, and knew they had lost the gamble. "You're taking the piss," she snapped. "Forget it. It's over. Granger is dead if you don't lift the Anti-Apparation jinx in ten seconds."

Harry blew out his breath. "Do it, Ron."

"Fine," Ron replied, giving a reluctant--and hopefully anguished-sounding--sigh. "Just don't hurt her."

"How sweet," Daphne sneered. "I'll try my best, but don't be surprised if she gets herself into a bit of Fiendfyre."

From the corner of his eye, Ron saw Harry's eyes widen, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Once again, Ron understood. Harry had decided there was no longer another way out of it, if Daphne were making such threats. They'd have to take their chances.

Ron raised his wand to release the jinx he'd set. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, hoping he sounded appropriately remorseful and not as nervous as he felt. He also hoped she understood. "But I have to let you go."

"Get on with it!" Daphne shouted, and she pulled Hermione closer to her. Ron nodded and cast his spell…

…only he didn't release the Anti-Apparation jinx, he ended the Full-Bind Body curse. Hermione let herself go limp, leaving Daphne wide open. Before she could react, Harry hit her square in the face with a Stunning Spell, and she flew backward to land unconscious on the sand, limbs splayed awkwardly.

It was over.

Ron took three quick steps to Hermione, fell to the ground, and took her in his arms. She wrapped herself around him, her breathing quick and heavy, but she did not cry. It was one of the many things he loved about her: her incredible strength, even under tremendous pressure. She was amazing, and he told her so even as he took her face and kissed her.

She laughed a bit uncontrollably, as if all the tension of the last several hours were leaving her in a sudden rush. "So were you, Ron. I can't believe you got here so fast and set that Anti-Apparation Jinx." They stood, still holding onto one another. She turned to Harry and hugged him as well. "And you too, Harry. That shot--"

"--was perfect, mate," said Ron. "Thanks."

Harry smiled at them both. "Of course. You were brilliant, offering yourself up like that."

"I'm just glad you figured out what I was going for," Ron replied.

"Of course I did," Harry said with a laugh. "We were partners, remember?"

"We were good," Ron murmured, shaking his head at the memories. Hermione was staring at both of them.

"If you two are both finished reliving the past and patting yourself on the back, can we go now?" She gave them both a very Hermione-ish look. "I've had a really long day."

"Me too," said Ron, putting an arm around her. "Let's go."

"What about her?" asked Hermione, motioning at Daphne, still lying unconscious on the beach. "We can't leave her there, as much as we might want to."

"I'll get her," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "I know a bit more than Malfoy about keeping prisoners." He bound her hands and feet, then levitated her to a standing position, her head lolling awkwardly to her chest. Ron was suddenly reminded of Severus Snape during their third year, when they had floated him from the Shrieking Shack unconscious. He shook his head of another memory from the past.

"Should we Apparate back to the top?" he asked, glancing wearily up the face of the cliff. "I don't want to find a path and climb." Hermione sighed in agreement; she looked as tired as he felt.

Harry glanced at them both, then at Daphne Greengrass. Then he picked up a large shell, murmured a spell, and held it out to them. "Let's Portkey. I'll get clearance for it later."

Ron reached out for the Porkey, holding hands with Hermione. Harry held tight to Daphne Greengrass, and within moments they were whisked away from the beach, the long day finally over. He had come to Australia to find Hermione and ask for a second chance, not expecting to have to fight for her life.

But he had, and he had won. Perhaps there was hope for more after all.

* * *

Chapter Ten

"So what's going to happen to her now?" asked Ron the next day.

They were sitting around the Granger's living room, having spent most of the previous day at the Australian Ministry of Magic debriefing on what had happened at Cliffhaven. After cleaning up, finding something to eat, and a long night's rest, they were all finally starting to feel human again. Ron's ankle was still a bit stiff, but his shoulder was healed, and he seemed ready for things to go back to normal. He had even talked about going home, but Hermione wasn't sure what her future held, given she had quit her old job and had a new one in Sydney, and she had avoided the issue each time he had mentioned it. He seemed frustrated, but so much had happened, and there were still so many loose ends to tie up that she could barely think straight. She forced herself to concentrate on the conversation.

"I think she's going to stay here," Harry said, helping himself to more of her mother's biscuits. "Frankly, I got the impression that Shacklebolt doesn't want her anywhere near the Wizengamot for trial."

Ron snorted. "Makes sense, considering her father is Chief Warlock." Hermione shook her head.

"Oh no, he'll resign for sure," she said. "I've talked with him several times, and this will not sit well with him. He'll be mortified."

"Already done," said Harry, his mouth half full. "I talked to Kingsley just a while ago. Greengrass resigned almost as soon as Kingsley had finished telling him about Daphne. They've appointed Millicent Bagnold as Acting Chief Warlock until the council can vote next month."

"Good," Ron said with a vigorous nod. "So if he's gone, then why not try her in England?"

Harry shrugged. "She's done just as much damage down here."

"She was plotting against the British Ministry, not the Australian Ministry," Ron pointed out. Hermione nodded in agreement this time.

"He's right, Harry. She should go back to Britain. Why is Kingsley letting the Australians have her?"

"I think it has to do with the whole smuggling operation," Harry said. "I'm not high enough to get details, but I think with Daphne down here, they can make a case against her uncle as well…as well as avoid embarrassing the former Chief Warlock any more than necessary."

Ron snorted. "I bet Malfoy didn't like that much, considering how hard she cold cocked him." He paused. "Or maybe he'd rather it stayed down here, since he's marrying into the family. Is his fiancée as crazy as her sister?"

Harry shook his head. "I have no idea and I don't care. He left this morning. Didn't even say goodbye to Goyle."

"Guess they're not mates anymore, then?" Ron laughed bitterly. "Gits. When are you heading back?"

"I have to stay to make sure the Australian Ministry is clear on things from our end." He sighed. "Hopefully it will only be another day or two."

"I can help," said Hermione. "I know as much about it if not more than you do. It happened to me, after all."

She noticed Ron frowning. "What?" she asked.

He glanced at Harry, either for support or because he was uncomfortable bringing something up. "You're not going back then?" he said, his voice neutral, though Hermione knew he was holding back.

"I don't know, Ron," she said softly. "I was supposed to start my new job tomorrow. They've given me a few extra days, but…" She trailed off at the look on his face.

"You're still going to work for the Australian Ministry? After all that's happened down here?" he asked, and now his voice was starting to sound both hurt and angry.

"Ron, I quit my old job and committed to a new one," she began, but he cut her off. From the corner of her eye she could see Harry attempting to shrink into the background.

"But you only came down here to protect your parents," he protested. "They're safe now, Hermione--and so are you. There's no reason to stay here!"

"Ron, it's more complicated than that," Hermione said. "I can't just leave now, I have a responsibility…" Once again she stopped, unable to continue past the accusatory look on his face. "Ron, I'm sorry, but I--"

Her mother came in then, glancing around as she felt the tension in the room. "Hermione, there's someone here to see you all."

Ron grumbled as Hermione sighed and nodded; they would have to talk it out sometime, and Ron wasn't going to wait forever. She understood, she did--and she wanted to go back to England and continue her work there. But her parents had been threatened, and she had a new job in Sydney, and maybe she could make a difference in Australia too.

Hermione shook her head of stray thoughts and stood as Katherine Kelly entered the front room. Kyle Walker was right behind her, a grin on his face.

"Muggle in the room! Hide your wands." He laughed, and everyone except Ron laughed with him. Hermione walked over to hug him, ignoring Ron's frown. She noticed Katherine watching her oddly as well, and stepped back quickly, smiling at them both.

"Don't worry, you're not alone," said her father, coming up behind them. "We're Muggles too." He held out his hand to Kyle. "Thank you for everything you did for my daughter."

"You mean, get caught?" Kyle laughed. "No, thank that guy over there. He's the one who really figured things out." He pointed at Ron; Hermione was glad he hadn't pointed at Harry, because Ron was positively glowering now at the bushman now.

"Yes, he's been brilliant," Tom agreed. "I hope he sticks around."

Hermione just about choked, as it was such an obvious allusion to what had happened at the airport. If Ron had noticed it, he ignored it. He looked at Katherine instead. "What's he still doing here? I thought there was protocol to follow?"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "Kyle helped us out there--"

Katherine stopped her. "No, he's right. I'm sure it's the same up there when Muggles are involved in magical matters. He was scheduled to be Obliviated last night." She smiled and gave Kyle a sly, sideways glance. "But I put in a good word for him, and they are reviewing his case. We're thinking he might make a good liason."

Ron was staring at them skeptically; Hermione was confused. "Liason to what?" she asked.

"Muggle Liason Office, working for the Department of Magical Creatures." Kyle shrugged as if he had no idea what Katherine was talking about, but he was grinning broadly and standing close, occasionally touching her arm. She smiled back at him, and Hermione suspected if they hadn't been in such a public place, Katherine would have taken his hand and snogged him senseless right there.

"He's seen so much, I think he'd be great at it," said Katherine.

"That’s my department," Hermione said. "We'll both be new then."

"You saw the inside of a cave," Ron asked skeptically. "When have you seen any magical creatures?"

"Katherine says they can always use a good guide in the bush--and I can fill them in on all the boring things like crocodiles and dingoes and such while they bring me up to speed on all the other creatures out there I've apparently missed." He stopped and looked away. "As crazy as it's been, I'd really hate to have to forget everything that's happened--everyone I've met." He turned back to Katherine, and she blushed. Hermione was certain she was right; they had definitely connected.

Ron sighed and set down his cup. "That's great. Good luck down here. I've got to get back to England, though. George will be needing the help--"

"Stay a few days, Ron," Harry interrupted. "George is all right."

"How do you know?" Ron asked. Hermione watched the exchange curiously.

"Because I also heard from Ginny this morning. She said everyone understands and George is managing fine. She's on her way down here, actually." He paused and glanced away with a slight cough. "With your mum and dad."

Ron froze, and even Hermione frowned. Why in the world were they all coming down to Sydney now that everything was over? Ron asked the same thing, though in a far more direct and less friendly manner.

"Ginny is coming down to see me, not you," Harry pointed out. "Like I said, I'm stuck here at least another day or two settling things with OMI and the Australian Ministry, so she's going to join me and then we're going to take a few days to ourselves." He paused with raised eyebrows. "You know, finish our honeymoon and all that."

"Oh Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "I completely forgot you were in France. I'm so sorry I got you into this!"

Harry waved her off with a laugh. "It's all right, Hermione. We both understand and we wouldn't do anything less for our friends."

"So why do my parents feel the need to tag along?" Ron grumbled.

"I think they just want to be sure you're both all right." Harry paused. "And Hermione's parents as well. They're just worried, Ron."

"I'm a grown adult," he muttered. "They can stop worrying already. I survived a year on the run without them."

The uncomfortable silence that filled the room was finally interrupted by Hermione's mother. "Well, I think it will be lovely to see them again. If something were to happen to Hermione in England, we'd be on the first plane back." Hermione gave her a grateful smile. "They can stay here and have the guestroom. Hermione, you can work a bit of magic in there, can't you? Make it a bit bigger, add another bed--just for the short term, of course."

"Of course, mum," Hermione murmured, still watching Ron. "Thank you."

"More tea, anyone?" she asked, getting up to go to the kitchen.

"Or perhaps a good old fashioned beer?" asked her father. "I think it's late enough in the day--and you've all earned it."

"I'd like one," Kyle said, nodding. "I've never liked tea much, if you can believe that. I'll help you."

He followed her father into the kitchen, leaving Ron staring after them with an even deeper scowl. It was as if the Muggles had wanted to leave the wizards on their own. There was another awkward silence, until Harry finally broke it.

"Sorry about your mum and dad, Ron," he murmured. "Ginny tried to talk them out of it, but you know them."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know them. They just want to help, but always end up crashing other people's parties."

No one responded, and Hermione sighed as she saw the storm coming. Ron stared out the window, his face cloudy, his body stiff. She wasn't sure if he was still tired or genuinely upset to see his parents. Katherine began talking quietly with Harry about the case, leaving Hermione open to talk to Ron.

"It's not that bad, Ron," she said sofly. "I mean, it's no inconvenience whatsoever, and--"

"You know why they're really coming, don't you?" he interrupted, his voice flat. The look in his eyes, however, was different. He wasn't angry so much as he was…sad, maybe. Hopeless, perhaps. She did know she wasn't sure what he was talking about.

"They're worried about us," she said. "Like Harry said, they just want to be sure we're all okay. I left in a hurry, you left without saying anything, Harry left in the middle of his honeymoon--I'm imagine they're panicking."

Ron just glanced sideways at her before he sighed. "That's not why they're coming, Hermione."

"Then why do you think they're putting themselves through four or five Portkeys to get here?" Hermione demanded, unable to keep the impatience from her voice. "You could give them a bit of credit for being concerned, you know."

"They're not concerned," Ron snapped. '"They're nosy. And I don't want to see them now." He turned and left the room so abruptly Hermione felt her mouth drop. She turned to Harry, lips moving soundlessly.

"What is he talking about?" she finally managed. Harry shrugged nonchalantly, but a small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he adjusted his glasses.

"Probably that ring burning a hole in his pocket," he murmured. He let that sink in before continuing. "Arthur told Ginny. They're probably expecting an announcement, only Ron doesn't have one for them…does he?"

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. She hadn't forgotten about Ron's proposal, not exactly, but she hadn't really thought about it either. Yet Ron hadn't followed her to Australia knowing she'd been kidnapped by Daphne Greengrass: he'd come after she had turned him down. Had he been planning on proposing again? Was that why he was so upset?

She jumped up. "I have to--"

"--go talk to him," said Harry, nodding. "Go on."

"But Harry," she said, and she glanced at Katherine before deciding it didn't matter who heard what she had to say anymore. "I don't know what to do, what to say. I already turned him down. I said no. I can't just take it back."

"Do you want to?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Do I want to what?" Hermione asked. For some reason, she couldn't seem to think straight.

"Take it back?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Merlin, Hermione, you two can be thick sometimes. Here's how I see it: he asked you to marry him, but you said no because Daphne Greengrass had threatened your parents. So you came down here to start a new job and protect them."

Hermione nodded. To her surprise, Katherine joined in. "I met Ron at the Ministry when he arrived, and he said he'd come to Australia for a second chance with his girlfriend. He came to ask you again. Getting kidnapped just sort of ruined that."

"So now that Daphne is out of the way and your parents are safe, what's it going to be?" asked Harry. "Are you really going to stay down here with them or come back to England where you belong?"

"Harry, it's not that simple," Hermione said, glancing nervously into the backyard. Ron was standing there, staring over the fence, his arms crossed over his chest as if he was waiting for her to follow him out. "I have a job here, and nothing there…" She trailed off at the look on Harry's face.

"Bollocks, Hermione. You can get your old job back in a heartbeat, and I'm sure the Australians would understand if you explained things to them." Katherine nodded in agreement.

"Do you love him?" she asked. "Because he obviously loves you very much." Her frank insight surprised Hermione; they had just met the day before after all. She could only nod in response, however, as her mind continued to turn cartwheels.

"Then I don't see the problem," stated Harry. He turned her around and pushed her toward the back door. "Talk to him. Now."

Hermione stumbled through the kitchen without a word to her parents and down the stairs into the back yard. Ron had settled under a tree and was plucking up blades of grass, tossing them listlessly into a growing pile. He glanced up at her and frowned.

"Don't feel like sharing a beer with Kangaroo Kyle?" he grumbled. And then Hermione recognized what else was bothering him: on top of coming down to talk her into marrying him only to learn she had been blackmailed and kidnapped, he had then found her tied up in a cave with a handsome Muggle television star. She shook her head, trying not to patronize him, but sometimes he was so ridiculous…

"I don't like beer, Ron--you know that." She sat down next to him and they were quiet for a bit. "Besides, he's not my type." His head shot up, and she smiled at him. "Honestly, Ron, you know that too. What's really bothering you?"

"Nothing," he sighed, sitting up a bit straighter. "I'm just tired. I'm just ready to…" He trailed off and laughed bitterly. "Go home, I guess."

Hermione nodded. "I never thanked you for coming, for helping me."

"You're welcome," he replied with a shrug.

"I know it's not why you came down here though," she continued. It was hard for them to talk sometimes: they talked in circles quite a bit until they finally broke through and could open up to one another. Apparently this was one of those times.

"Things happen," he said. "Sometimes people get blackmailed and kidnapped by crazy witches bent on revenge for something that happened five years ago."

Hermione burst out laughing, and Ron grinned. It sounded ridiculous when it was put that way. He shook it off quickly, though. "No, it's not why I came down here. But I'm glad I did, because I don't know what I'd do if something had happened to you." He looked away, and Hermione took his hand, forcing him to look back at her.

"Why did you come, Ron?" she asked softly, even though she knew Harry was right. Ron was quiet for a long time.

"I was going to try again," he finally said. "But I see now that you want to be here. You want to stay, so I'm not going to do that to you, make you say no again." He looked away, again, a sad look on his face. "I'm not going to do that to me."

Hermione took a deep breath. She had definitely dug herself into a deep hole at the airport when she had rejected his proposal, and everything that had happened since had only made it deeper. It would be hard to fix, but then they had been through much, much worse.

"A part of me does want to stay," she said. "To watch over my parents. You have no idea how frightening it was to get that photograph--to know they were in my family's house, watching them without anyone even knowing." She shuddered just thinking about it. "I know the Ministry here can take care of them, but I just can't bear the thought of anything happening to them because of me."

Ron was silent, so she continued. "But a part of me never wanted to come in the first place--a big part. I want to go back, Ron, I really do." He finally looked at her, and his face was so honestly, openly miserable that she bit back tears at the thought of being the one to cause it. She reached out to touch his cheek.

He took her hand from his face and held it in his lap, looking down for a moment, but when he looked back up his eyes were blazing. She thought for a moment that he was angry with her until he suddenly and unexpectedly leaned forward and kissed her. One hand wrapped around her hair and pulled her toward him, and she quickly felt her entire body respond to the passion in his kiss. Yet it was short: he pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Then come back with me," he murmured, his voice cracking. "Marry me."

She gasped, not expecting him to ask again so soon. "Ron, I don't know what to say--"

"Say yes," he whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face and still looking intently into her eyes. "Say you will. Say you love me."

"I do love you Ron," she murmured, tears springing to her own eyes. Why was this so hard? Why didn't she just follow her heart and say what she wanted to say? The biggest obstacle was gone: her parents were safe now, their enemies behind bars. Why couldn't she say it? "But I just--"

He stopped her again, kissing her as the tears fell down her cheeks, wetting them both. "I'll stay," he said when he pulled back once more. "Just say yes."

"You'd stay here, in Sydney?" she said, shocked at his words.

"I'd do anything for you, Hermione," he replied, wiping away a tear from her face. "You know that."

"But why?" she whispered. And then, just like that, he was the old Ron again, not this strangely intense and emotional Ron.

"Because I don't want to see you take up with some git from the Outback." He grinned, but caressed her cheek at the same time. "And because I love you and I want to spend my life with you. I know I don't say it much, but I do."

She stared at him, and as she did, she felt the last bit of reluctance inside begin to crumble. He had traveled halfway across the world for her, and now he was willing to stay. She loved him, and he loved her. As Harry had said, what was the problem?

"Yes," she said, her voice stronger than she would have thought. But then she was suddenly, deliriously happy. She smiled broadly and threw her arms around his neck. "Yes, I will!"

And he kissed her once more before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the ring he had offered her once before. This time she let him slip it onto her finger, and she held it up to admire just how beautiful it was. Arthur Weasley might have pushed him into it at the airport, but Ron had done this all by himself. It was perfect.

"Ron, you don't have to stay," she said after they had kissed again. He tilted his head and gave her a funny grin.

"I don't fancy a long-distance marriage much," he said. She laughed and shook her head.

"No, let's go back home. We don't belong here."

His eyes widened as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he kissed the top of her head. "Are you certain?" he asked, sounding concerned. "Because I imagine Sydney could use a good joke shop somewhere."

"I'm sure it could," Hermione replied, smiling to herself. "But no, let's go home. Not right away--I'd like to stay to see things through here." She glanced up at him. "Do you think George could spare you a bit longer? You were pretty involved yourself, after all. The Australian Ministry might need us as witnesses and such."

Ron nodded slowly. "Or they might need some help shutting down the rest of the Greengrass operation."

"Exactly," replied Hermione. "A few weeks, maybe a month or two. I'd feel much better leaving my parents if I knew there was nothing left to worry about."

"It's a plan, then," Ron replied. "George can get on without me. Or he can hire that cute assistant he's always wanted."

"Oh, he'll definitely do that." Hermione laughed, and Ron joined her. "And he'll love you for it." She settled into his arms once more. "And once we go back, maybe we can plan for a spring wedding?"

"That sounds perfect," Ron replied, and he sounded like he meant it. "Whatever you want."

She sat up and narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll hold you too that, you know."

"You do that," he murmured, pulling her close. He kissed her again, and she returned his embrace, relishing the simple joy of having finally resolved both her head and her heart…until they were interrupted by a cough from the back door.

"Ginny's going to be disappointed she missed it, you know," said Harry, hands crossed over his chest and a very knowing look on his face. "I think that's why she's really coming."

Hermione burst into laughter, but Ron stood up and blew his breath out at Harry. "Thanks a lot, mate. Way to ruin a moment."

"And what was that you said during your toast last week?" Harry replied, pretending to think. "Oh yes, something about what you'd do if you ever walked in on your little sister while--"

"Never mind," Ron said, but he was laughing as he took Hermione's hand and led her back toward the house. He punched Harry in the arm as they passed. "But I will."

Harry stopped him and pulled him into a hug. "Congratulations, Ron." Then he grabbed Hermione and pulled her in as well. "You too, Hermione. I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks, Harry," said Hermione as she disentangled herself. "I'm glad you're the first to know, but I should go tell my parents, too."

He let them pass with a wave of his hand. "And the Weasleys will be here later tonight. We can have a proper celebration."

Ron groaned, but Hermione linked her arm in his. "It'll be fine, Ron. That's why they're coming, isn't it?"

He nodded a bit sheepishly. "Yes, I'm sure that's why they're coming. They'll be happy, too, considering how it went the first time. They'll be surprised we're staying on a bit down here, though."

Harry was walking behind them. He didn't seem surprised at all. "No, they'll be fine."

"Really?" asked Hermione, hoping Molly Weasley wouldn't hold it against her if Ron stayed in Australia for a month or two.

Harry stopped and gave them a very serious look. "They'll understand. You two have been through a lot over the last few days. You've found your way back to each other, and when you're ready, you'll make the journey back home and get married. It's as simple as that. They'll be thrilled for you."

Hermione kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, Harry," she said, and Ron simply nodded. Hermione could tell he had no words, which was rare, but sweet. She took his hand again and led him toward the front room. "Come on, let's go tell my parents."

"Tell us what?" asked her father as she stepped into the room, hand-in-hand with Ron, Harry by their side. Hermione glanced at Ron and smiled.

"We're getting married."

* * *