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.
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The Journey Back by Gmariam
Chapter Endnotes: A huge exclamation of THANK YOU to Julia/theopaleye for helping me out so much with the Australian bits. She really helped straighten out my lack of knowledge when it comes to international travel and the Sydney airport, among other things. Any mistakes left are my own. Hope you enjoyed it!