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."
* * *
The Journey Back by Gmariam
Chapter Endnotes: A huge thank-you to Julia/theopaleye, my beta for all things Australian as well as minor plot points. She helped out with two great points here and I appreciate her guidance tremendously!