Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

AN: This story is short, and written in three parts.

I

It was Hermione Granger who first suggested that they go to Grimmauld Place. Harry Potter was inclined to agree with her. When wasn't he? It was plain to see that the two of them were no longer wanted at the Burrow. It wasn't that anything was said explicitly but Harry and Hermione could feel it. No words of 'Go away' or 'Leave' were uttered, but they were heard in every grunt or half-response.

Every step they took in the house felt like an insult of some sort. They just didn't belong, and it was time that they did something about it.

"Tomorrow?" Harry asked, looking at her as they sat side by side on the couch. They were alone in the living room, Hermione pretending to read a book and Harry merely watching her. It was his favourite thing to do, now that the War was over. She was proof that it was all over; that they'd survived. They'd won.

"Tonight," she said, glancing at him.

"Say goodbye?" he asked.

"What's the point?"

"Should I pack?"

Hermione glanced down at her lap where her ever-present bag sat, and Harry grinned at her.

"What would I ever do without you?"

Hermione finally gave up on her book, closed it and put it aside before she looked at him, giving him her full attention. "Are you going to talk to Ginny?"

"Are you going to talk to Ron?"

She sighed. "I think that they both made it pretty clear that we're not family," she said. "And I know that they're mourning, and I know I shouldn't take it so personally, but I do. Don't you?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm used to this, Hermione. Being ignored and blamed, being abandoned; I've been dealing with it my entire life."

Hermione reached for his closest hand. "I'll never leave you, Harry," she said strongly. "I already told you I'd go with you."

He squeezed her hand. "We should go now," he said, standing up. "I don't want to be here any more than they want us here." He helped her to her feet and she slipped on her shoes.

"Do you think Kreacher will be there?" Hermione asked as they walked out the back door of the Burrow. "Is it odd that I find that I miss him?"

Harry chuckled, though it never once reached his eyes. "Merlin, I think he might croak and die if he ever knew," he said, linking their arms as they walked away from the house. "If he's not there, he'll be at Hogwarts."

"The little warrior."

Harry led them far enough from the house so that they were out of the Apparation wards. They stopped and turned to look at the house one last time.

"Do you think we'll ever be back here?" Hermione asked, a hint of sadness in her tone.

"I do," he said, even though he wasn't entirely sure. "It's just hard for them right now."

"We lost people too," she pointed out.

"But not family," Harry said, as if it made all the difference. Harry had already lost all his family before the War even started.

Hermione looked up at him, absently squeezing his arm. "We should go," she said softly. Then, without waiting for a response, she Apparated the both of them away from the place they'd both once called home.

Grimmauld Place was dark and dreary but it felt like the place they had to be. Nothing was expected of them and they didn't have to tiptoe around. It would just be Harry and Hermione, and Kreacher.

Harry called for the little elf as soon as they arrived and the aging creature was a little too happy to see his Master and his Master's friend. It still looked physically painful for Kreacher to be civil to Hermione but he was much better at it now. Hermione even gave him a hug, which had the elf cowering.

"Hermione," Harry said, a tired smile on his face. "Leave the poor elf alone."

She blushed. "Sorry."

Kreacher dusted himself off once Hermione released him. "Would Master like dinner?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look.

"Umm, maybe later, Kreacher," Harry said. "Do you mind making up our rooms?" Harry paused, glancing at Hermione. "Actually, do you think you could set up blankets in the library for us?"

"Right away," Kreacher said, before he popped away.

Hermione looked at Harry questioningly.

He merely shrugged.

"I don't want to be alone either," she said, proving just how well she knew him. "I've been having nightmares."

"I know just the cure for nightmares," he said, raising an eyebrow mischievously.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Probably not."

"What the hell."

And so, less than an hour later, Harry and Hermione found themselves spread out on the floor of the library, with an almost empty bottle of Firewhiskey between them. They were laughing at nothing in particular, but it just felt so good to laugh out loud. Harry couldn't even remember the last time he'd laughed and not felt guilty over it.

Harry was vaguely aware of Kreacher bringing them something to eat and he could probably recall eating some of it but it was the sound of their laughter he would always remember. Hermione's sounded musical as it hung in the air, filling his ears. Her eyes were even shining and she looked younger than she'd looked in years. She didn't look like she'd just been through a War, and that was all that Harry wanted for her.

Hermione passed out first, whether it was from the alcohol or exhaustion, Harry would never know. She looked so peaceful and he couldn't help but just sit and watch her. She was proof that they had won. She was right here with him, sleeping soundly, breathing. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't his imagination.

Eventually, Harry's eyes grew tired as well. He downed the rest of the alcohol, feeling it burn his throat, and then he crawled across the floor towards Hermione. Without waking her, he draped a light blanket over her small frame and shifted some hair out of her eyes.

"We're going to be okay, Hermione," he whispered before he settled in beside her. He wanted to be close enough to touch her without actually having to touch her. "You'll see." And then he was asleep.

Harry's nightmares involved dragons and fire and a Hermione screaming in pain. He could handle dragons and fire but never the sound of Hermione in pain. Never her pain.

He woke with a start to find that it was still pitch black outside. He'd thrashed about a bit but Hermione was still in the position he'd left her, perfect and untouched. He selfishly wanted to wake her up so that he could talk to her but he didn't. He just used the sight of her to calm his racing heart and help him get back to sleep.

The next time Harry woke up, Hermione had moved. She had rolled away from him, onto her back, but her left hand was stretched out towards him, her fingers warm on his neck. It was still dark outside and Harry felt like he'd had enough sleep but his eyes felt heavy. It was probably the hangover.

When Harry woke up for the last time, Hermione had moved once more. This time, she rolled back towards him, a little too far, and her hair was tickling his nose. He was breathing her in, merely further proof of their victory.

Harry lay completely still until she started to wake up, shifting against him. Her first groan made him smile and when she all but swore bloody murder, he had to laugh. Slowly, gingerly, she rolled away from him, keeping her eyes closed.

"I am never letting you convince me to drink that much ever again," she muttered, bringing her fingers up to her temples and rubbing circles against her skin. "I don't even have the will to open my eyes. How bright is it?"

"Wimp."

Hermione rolled over to face him, and opened one eye at a time. "I hate you," she muttered, narrowing her eyes at the morning light.

Harry brushed some hair off her face. "Did you have any nightmares?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I, uh, I can't remember."

He smirked. "Is that so?"

She smiled warmly. "Okay, I totally take it back. I don't hate you; I love you."

Harry just stared at her. The ease at which the words had rolled out of her mouth gave him pause. He knew she didn't mean it that way but it forced him to face the fact that, given everything, it could one day be an option for them.

"What time is it?" she asked, yawning.

"I have no idea."

"We don't have to care, do we?" she asked, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "I mean, we could literally lie here all day and nobody would care, right?"

"I wouldn't."

She rolled back onto her back and brought the blanket up and over her face. She groaned. "Oh Harry, what on earth are we doing with our lives?" she asked the blanket, her voice slightly muffled.

He used his hand to move the blanket away so he could see her. "I, for one, am quite keen to do nothing."

"But for how long? And, can you honestly say that you'd be happy doing that, even for a little while?"

"Please don't make me make a decision right now," he said, his voice barely audible.

She rolled onto her side again, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks. "I don't intend to make you do anything, Harry Potter," she said warmly. "But you have to know that we won't be able to hide in here forever."

"Not forever," he agreed.

"But long enough to recover."

Neither of them knew how long that would take and, frankly, neither seemed to care. Slowly, their days started to blend into one. Kreacher fed them, they read and they talked, about the War and about life. They received no word from any of the Weasleys and they both came to accept it for what it was.

For Harry's birthday, they ventured into Muggle London, deciding to watch a film at the cinema and have dinner at a restaurant. It was odd being out and about but they'd both decided it was time to see people other than each other. Not that they were ever separated for more than a few minutes. They even spent a few hours shopping. Hermione insisted on finding him a birthday present, but Harry told her that she was more than enough.

Harry loved it when she blushed. It made him feel as if he'd accomplished something.

It was later that evening, when they were lying side by side on their makeshift bed on the floor of the library that Hermione first mentioned her parents.

"I wanted to be ready," she informed him. "I didn't want to go and find them and be broken and a shell of myself. I think I'm ready now, Harry."

He sat up so he could look at her properly. "When do you want to go?" he asked. There was no need to query whether she was sure or not. He knew her well enough to know that she had spent days going over her decision. She was ready.

Hermione also sat up. "Monday night."

"By plane or Portkey?"

"Plane," she answered easily. "I'm not ready for the Ministry just yet."

Harry had to agree with that. He wasn't ready for the Ministry either, and he sure as hell wasn't ready for Hogwarts. Though, from the way he'd noticed Hermione's revising, he suspected that she was. That was a conversation for another time.

"Should I pack?" he asked teasingly, smirking slightly.

She swatted his arm before lying back down. "Old habits die hard, Potter," she said, sighing. "I'll always be packed and ready to go."

"Have you still got the tent in there?" he asked, referring to her bag.

She nodded.

Harry also lay back down, turning onto his side so he could look at her. "One day, you and me, we're going to go back to the Forest of Dean," he said softly.

She turned only her head to face him. "Why?"

"I think it's an important place for the two of us," he said seriously. "It's the place where you first considered living out the rest of your life with only me."

She gave him a small smile. "Would you really have done it? Stayed out there with me?"

"If the entire Wizarding World hadn't been counting on us, yes," he said simply. "A thousand times yes."

"Even with me?"

"Even with you," he said, nodding. "You are the most important person in my life right now, Hermione Granger. I don't ever want to live a single day without you."

Hermione shifted closer to him. "You are the most important in my life right now too, Mr Potter," she whispered, her eyes on his. "With you, I just know that we'll be okay."

"I've been trying to tell you."

She smiled. "Happy birthday, Harry," she said softly, before she placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Welcome to the land of eighteen-year-olds."

"I sometimes forget how young we are," he admitted, his hand resting on her forearm. "We've been through so much, haven't we?"

"Together."

"Together."

"And on Monday, we go on our next adventure."

He ran his fingers along her forearm, enjoying the feel of her soft skin. "And then what happens?" he asked.

"My parents will have to decide if they want to stay in Australia or if they want to come back to England."

"What about you?"

She was finding the movement of his fingers incredibly distracting. "Hmm?"

"Will you stay with them if they decide to stay in Australia?"

Hermione had to still his hand with one of her own in order to concentrate on what he was saying. "What?"

He smiled at the slightly flustered look on her face. "Will you stay with them if they decide to stay in Australia?" he repeated, unsure if he was actually ready for her answer. "I mean, it would make sense if you would. You'd have to be with your parents."

"I told you that I'd never leave you, Harry," she said softly but strongly. "And I mean it."

Harry suddenly pulled her towards him, crushing her in a strong hug. He buried his face in her hair and held on to her for almost a minute, breathing in the scent of her. When he released her, Hermione looked a bit bewildered.

"You've been worrying about this for quite some time, haven't you?"

He nodded, not meeting her gaze.

"My Harry," she breathed. "You do know that I love you, right?"

Harry was always amazed by how casual she was with the word. Didn't she realise that he'd never actually experienced love? Or, if he had, he hadn't known. He thought of Sirius, and of Remus. Ginny, maybe. And then Hermione.

Always Hermione.

"Because I do," she reiterated.

Harry didn't respond as he wrapped his arms around her once more. This time, he did not release her. They both fell asleep with Harry's protective arms around her and Hermione's hands clutching onto the fabric of his t-shirt. That night, there were no nightmares. Hermione felt safe and Harry felt calm.

Harry was so used to sleeping beside her, he didn't think he could ever go back to sleeping alone, let alone in a bed. In the time they'd been at Grimmauld Place, Harry hadn't entered Sirius' bedroom. He felt the closure of his godfather's death but it still hurt him to see what Sirius was missing: this living life.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked him when she noticed he was awake in the morning.

"I'm never sleeping without you," he said seriously.

She shifted in closer to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Her breath was warm on his skin and, if he had his way, he would make sure neither of them moved ever again.

"My parents are going to ask about us," she mumbled against his skin, tickling him.

He pulled back slightly. "What?"

She pulled back as well, meeting his gaze. "My parents. They'll have questions about us."

"About us?"

"Who we are to each other," she clarified. "And I doubt that they'll believe that we're just best friends."

Harry swallowed. "And why wouldn't they believe that?"

"Because we're not just best friends, Harry."

"We're not," he agreed.

"So what do we tell them?"

He thought about it for a moment. "We tell them that we just escaped a deadly War and we're still figuring things out, but we love each other and that's all that should matter. How does that sound?"

Hermione blinked. "You love me?"

He smiled. "Of course I do."

She tugged on his t-shirt, before burying her face in the crook of his neck once more. He could feel her smile against his skin and it also made him smile. They stayed in that position for so long that Harry started to worry if she was getting enough air.

It took Kreacher bringing them breakfast to get them to break apart and they both sat up, grinning at each other. Something felt different between them and Harry was sure it had something to do with the word 'love' hanging in the air.

That afternoon, they left the house again, this time going to a small park and just enjoying the fresh air. Hermione lay down on their picnic blanket and read, while Harry lay down beside her and just watched her. She was used to it by now, but it still managed to make her body heat up.

At a certain point, Harry took it upon himself to distract her. After what he discovered the previous night, the feel of his fingers on her forearm was enough to mess with her concentration.

It didn't go unnoticed by Hermione.

In the days leading up to their venture down south, Harry took to touching her whenever they were sitting close enough to each other. He would run his fingers along her arms, along her neck and sometimes over her cheeks. It was incessant, completely distracting and so very desired. She never wanted him to stop.

Even on the plane, Harry held her right hand captive, his fingers tracing patterns on her palm. And he held it just as firmly while he was asleep, his head rolling to one side quite adorably. Hermione found herself watching him the way that she suspected he watched her, and she finally understood why. Having him right here, being able to see him and touch him; it was proof that they'd survived. The War was over, and here they were, still living; still breathing.

Hermione, admittedly, didn't get that much sleep. She was nervous about seeing her parents again, and even more worried about what their reactions would be. She knew they wouldn't like what she'd done, but she hoped that they would eventually understand.

"Hermione," Harry whispered, getting her attention.

"Hmm?"

"You're thinking so loudly; I can't sleep."

She couldn't help but smile. "I'm sorry," she whispered back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered. "I've been told I'm a great listener."

"Who said that?"

He tugged on her hand playfully. "I'm serious, Hermione."

She sighed, her eyes seeking out his. "What if they never forgive me?"

"They will."

"How can you be so sure?"

He leaned towards her. "Because I've met you, and they would be crazy not to do everything they could to have and keep you in their lives."

Hermione swallowed. "It probably won't be that easy, Harry."

"It won't; you're right about that," he agreed. "But it will happen. They're your parents and they love you, and I just know they'll understand." He squeezed her hand. "And if they don't understand, you could just blame everything on me, you know? Tell them that I made you do it."

She shook her head. "I intend to keep you around, Harry Potter," she said; "so I'd much rather not have my parents hate you."

"For how long are we talking about here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No amount of time would be long enough," she said softly, looking into his eyes.

Harry got lost somewhere in her pools of brown. His entire body was starting to burn up and all she was doing was looking at him; seeing him.

"But I suppose forever sounds good, doesn't it?"

Harry nodded dumbly and Hermione just smiled at his expected reaction - or lack thereof.

"Go back to sleep, Harry," she said, using her free hand to run her fingers through his unruly hair. "At least one of us is going to have to be cognitive when we arrive and, at the rate we're going, it's not going to be me."

Harry gave her one last small smile before he dutifully fell asleep.

When he awoke again, it was to the feeling of touching down on Australian soil. He was still holding onto Hermione's hand and he absently squeezed it to get her attention. He immediately noticed the ghostly look on her face when she turned away from the window to face him.

"You went through every possibly scenario in your head again, didn't you?" he asked, sitting up straight.

"I couldn't help it," she said quietly.

He sighed. "Did you at least allow yourself to think about the good scenarios as well, or just the worst ones?"

Her silence was enough of a response for him and he leaned in close to her, making their foreheads touch.

"I imagine that they've always felt that there is something missing from their lives," he whispered soothingly, watching as she closed her eyes. "They've never been able to figure it out but, whenever they set their table for dinner, they have the urge to set three places instead of two. I imagine that they know all the songs in Teletubbies, but they couldn't ever figure out why. I imagine that A Winter's Tale is their favourite play for just the name Hermione. I imagine that they find their pictures and photographs full of too much empty space."

"Harry," she breathed, feeling overwhelmed.

"I imagine that they've been searching for whatever is missing and, when they find out it's you, they'll be happy."

"You think so?" she asked seriously, opening her eyes.

"Maybe not in the beginning," he said realistically. "I imagine they'll have a lot of questions and we'll have to explain a lot of things but, yes, I think that they will be ecstatic to have you back in their lives."

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered, pulling back slightly. "I'd be such a mess if you weren't here."

"I imagine you'd eventually pull yourself together," he said, grinning at her.

"Is that so?"

"I imagine you would panic a bit, yes, but you would figure out that this needs to be done, regardless of the outcome. I imagine you'd be kicking yourself for ever worrying so much in the first place."

"Are you really going to keep talking like that?" she had to ask.

He laughed lightly. "I imagine it's starting to annoy you."

"You imagine correctly."

"I imagine you think I have a great imagination, don't you?" he asked, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

"Merlin help me," she muttered, just as the plane came to a stop and the air hostesses proceeded to open the doors. "Please tell me that you're not going to do this all night."

Harry just looked at her, saying nothing.

Hermione laughed. "As if this trip needed to be any more interesting."

Harry stood up first and, within half an hour, they were in an airport shuttle on their way to their hotel. Harry booked them a room with twin beds, mainly because he didn't want her to think he assumed anything but, at the concierge's desk, Hermione was the one to request the change to a double room.

She merely shrugged at his raised eyebrow, prompting him to lean forward and bring his lips to her ear so that the lady behind the desk wouldn't hear him.

"I imagine you intend to sleep with me," he whispered, and then smiled when he felt her shiver. He knew he was potentially facing the Hermione wrath but it was definitely worth it. He even endured the death stare she gave him in the elevator. Better yet, he embraced it.

Once they were safely behind the door of their hotel room, Hermione rounded on him and, for a terrifying moment, Harry was convinced she was going to kiss him. She didn't.

"I hope you're enjoying your moment, Potter," she said, her face barely an inch from his. "I'm a little too tired and way too stressed about tomorrow to do anything about it."

"I imagine you want me to run you a bath," he said, and thoroughly enjoyed the mixture of irritation, relief and sentiment on her face. Before she could respond, he kissed her forehead and then disappeared into the bathroom to fill up the tub just the way that he knew Hermione liked it.

He remained in the bathroom while the water ran, allowing himself the time to study his reflection in the mirror. He looked older than eighteen, by a long while. His eyes were dark and his face looked tired, as if the very skin was struggling to stay up. He knew there were many reasons behind it, but none of it felt fair. He was supposed to be a kid. He never should have been forced to grow up so quickly.

When Harry went back out to tell Hermione that her bath was ready, he found her asleep on the floor beside the bed. She'd brought the covers down from the bed and made a makeshift bed for them. Like they had in the library in Grimmauld Place.

Harry did not wake her. She had a big day coming up and he could tell she hadn't had much sleep. He knelt at her side and covered her properly, watching her for a moment. She was so beautiful, even in sleep. Especially in sleep. It was as if all the terror of the last few years was washed away when she was like this. In peace. It was all he would ever want for her.

Harry went back into the bathroom, cast a mild Statis Charm and then returned to Hermione's side. He lay down beside her and just watched her, feeling surprisingly content in this new and foreign place. He had to know that nothing would be at all scary if he was with Hermione. He didn't even have a nightmare when he finally fell asleep.

It was Hermione who woke him up, however unwillingly. She'd tried to escape from his grasp without waking him but she failed, and Harry ended up shifting as he awoke.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before his eyes could even open.

Harry was surprised to find Hermione in his arms but he made no move to release her.

"I fell asleep on you, didn't I?" Hermione asked tiredly, rubbing at her eyes.

Harry responded by tightening his hold on her, and Hermione let out a small - satisfied - sigh.

"Do you know what the time is?"

Harry opened one eye to see if there was any light coming through a window but he couldn't see anything so he closed it again. "Too early," he breathed.

"Our body clocks are probably so off right now," she pointed out, her fingers running over the skin of his forearm. She always wondered if the movement did the same thing to him as it did to her. She wanted to know what kind of effect her touch had on him.

It took Harry another thirty seconds to shift quite abruptly. He released her and rolled right around to face away from her. "Hermione," he said, his voice sounding strained.

"What?" she asked innocently, sitting up to see what was wrong with him.

Harry also sat up, keeping his back to her. "Your bath is still waiting for you," he said curtly.

Hermione was tempted to query his disposition again but she thought better of it. "Fine," she said softly, slowly rising to her feet. She used a hand on his shoulder to help her up and she didn't miss the way her tensed up at her touch. They would definitely need to talk about this.

While Hermione was in the bathroom, Harry focused his attention on anything but the lingering feeling of Hermione's fingers on his skin, or the lasting feeling of having her body pressed up against his.

Harry had to remove himself from the bedroom and step out onto the balcony. He used the fresh air to help clear his head and calm his body down. Now was definitely not the time to be experiencing these things; feeling these things. Hermione needed him to be present and strong, because this definitely wasn't going to be easy.

By the time they were both ready to go, Harry had managed to forget about his strange morning reaction. Hermione, unfortunately, hadn't, which led to a bit of an argument that ended with Harry blurting out that he did want to really sleep with her.

Hermione practically blushed from head to toe, and Harry wished a Death Eater would just emerge and Kill him.

"Now please can we just go," Harry grumbled.

Hermione just nodded, and the two of them set off, a certain awkwardness hanging in the air between them. Hermione was the one who knew the address of the Wilkins' Dental Practice, so Harry allowed her to take the lead, ready to step in whenever or if ever she needed it.

Her first sight of hesitation was when they were standing in front of the small building that they both knew was occupied her parents at that very moment. Hermione stood completely frozen, her eyes staring at the small rose garden at the entrance to the practice.

"Do you want to come back later?" Harry offered her kindly.

Hermione shook her head. "No. I have to do this now." She took a deep, calming breath before she strode forwards, renewed confidence in her approach. She faltered agains once they were in the reception and she automatically reached for Harry's hand.

"My mother's favourite colour is green," she whispered to Harry, who could see the various undertones of the colour green in the reception area. There was even a large painting of a green apple, which Harry had to admit was oddly fascinating.

"Hi, can I help you?" the receptionist asked the pair.

Hermione knew that she couldn't exactly demand to see the dentists, even though it was the thing she both wanted to do and dreaded doing with such a passion. There was no turning back now.

"We'd like to see the dentist," Harry said, mumbling his words, as if he really needed a dentist. "I've been experiencing this pain for quite some time, and I need a quality doctor to take a look at it."

"We'll see if we can fit you in," the receptionist - Haley, according to her name tag - informed Harry. "You'll just need to fill this in," she said, handing him a clipboard with forms to fill in.

Harry immediately handed the clipboard to Hermione, which made both the women laugh lightly.

When the two of them sat down to wait, Hermione filled in the form for Harry without ever having to ask him a question. It scared him sometimes, just how well she knew him, but he wouldn't have had anyone else knowing him better than she did.

They had to wait close to an hour for Harry to be squeezed in, and Hermione became more and more antsy as the seconds ticked by.

When they were finally called up, Harry stood first, deftly bringing Hermione up with him. Haley handed the patient file to Harry, and he gave her a small smile, thinking an explanation would be best.

"She's not a fan of the dentist," Harry said to Haley, who just nodded her understanding. Fear of dentists was apparently not that uncommon.

"It's straight through, and on your right," Haley instructed. "You can't miss it."

Harry mumbled a thank you before he led Hermione down the corridor. She felt stiff in his arms but there was no turning back now. They walked slowly, until they came to an open door, in which there were two dentist chair, separated by a flimsy partitioning.

The woman manning the left chair looked up at them as they stepped through the door. "Mister Potter?" she asked, glancing at the piece of paper in her hand and then looking back up at the pair. It was odd for Hermione, having her mother looking straight at her and not recognising her. It was heartbreaking.

"Good morning," Harry said gently, ushering Hermione forward. His own heart was racing but Hermione needed him to be calm and present.

"Not a fan of the dentist, huh?" the woman asked with a knowing smile.

"You could say that," Harry agreed. "We're not from around here, but it's turning into an emergency."

The woman regarded Harry for quite some time, obviously trying to place his accent. "Surrey?"

Harry couldn't stop his smile. "That's brilliant."

"I've got a semi-good ear," she said kindly. "So what can I do for you?"

Harry gathered himself. "I think I need a filling," he said.

Hermione managed to find her voice. "He's been complaining about the pain, and yet he's refused to do anything about it until now. I practically had to drag him here."

"You'll be surprised how many times we've been in this situation.

Before Harry could respond, they heard footsteps behind them. Both teenagers turned to see a man enter through the door, his glasses resting above his forehead. The man greeted the two patients before he moved towards his wife.

Hermione's parents.

Harry leaned in to whisper into Hermione's ear. "You have to do it now," he said soothingly. "It'll be okay, I promise. I'm right here."

Bolstered by Harry's quiet confidence, Hermione reached for her wand. Her parents looked alarmed before they looked confused. Harry couldn't even describe their expressions once the spells were cast because, really, what followed was a bit indescribable.

There was an excited reunion, and then questions. Questions and questions and more questions. Hermione's parents even had to cancel all their appointments for the rest of the day, as they forced Harry and Hermione to explain everything that had happened in the last year.

Of course, Hermione took the lead, skating over the particularly dangerous parts of their hunt. Harry knew she did it because she didn't want to worry Jane and Michael Granger any more than she had to, but she would also like for them not to hate Harry.

"You died?" Michael asked Harry incredulously, his eyes wide.

Harry nodded. "Well, I was struck with the Killing Curse -"

"For the second time," Hermione injected.

"And I didn't die," Harry finished.

"For the second time," Hermione added, and she absently touched Harry's hand, which was a movement that neither parents missed.

The interrogation went on for hours, and Harry thought that they were taking it all surprisingly well. At a certain point, Hermione turned to look at Harry, her eyes kind and affectionate.

"Harry," she said softly; "do you mind giving us a moment?"

Harry hesitated, suddenly worried about what was going to be said once he was out of the room.

"I'll be okay," Hermione assured him, knowing that he had to hear it straight from her mouth. "We'll just be a minute, I promise."

He didn't give anyone the impression that he was okay with being out of her presence, but he still left the room, and made his way back to the reception. Haley was still sitting at her desk, absently going through several files. Harry's appearance surprised her and she jumped in her chair.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't," she said, even though they both knew that she was lying. "Must be quite the root canal, huh?"

"What?"

She used her head to gesture towards the dentists' rooms. "Miss Granger's been in there a while. Did they send you out because it was about to get ugly?"

"You could say that, yeah," Harry muttered.

"I've never been to England myself," she said, trying to make conversation. "What's it like?"

"Umm," Harry sounded. "It definitely rains a lot," he said, smiling slightly. "The people aren't as friendly, I suppose."

"Oh yeah, Australians are about the friendliest people around."

And, at that precise moment, they heard it. The voices started low, but they rose in volume exponentially. Both Harry and Haley turned their heads. But, before either of them could react, Hermione was stomping down the corridor towards them. She looked furious and Harry could feel her losing control of her magic.

"Let's go, Harry," Hermione hissed at him before he could even form words. She grabbed hold of his hand and proceeded to drag him out of the reception. He asked no questions as she led them around the offices and into a secluded spot. In the next moment, she Apparated them back to heir hotel room.

Harry was just able to catch her before she broke down crying. It wasn't until much later that Harry finally got an explanation from her, and it was enough to send his magic spinning out of control.

Harry waited until Hermione was asleep to pay his own visit to her parents. It was easy enough to find out where they lived from their workplace. Apparently all English people knew each other and every Australian believed it.

To say that they were surprised to see him was an understatement.

Harry was polite right until they invited him into the front room. He declined anything to eat or drink and cut straight to it.

"You don't get to make her feel awful about this," he said coolly. "Every decision she's ever made has been to protect the people she cares about. If you're going to be mad at someone, be mad at me." Harry sat back, gathering his thoughts. "I'm the one who befriended her; I'm the one who continually put her in danger; I'm the one who couldn't have done what was required of me without her; I'm the one who needed her. Blame me. Hate me. Not Hermione."

Jane and Michael Granger spent a good minute in silence before Jane spoke.

"We could never hate our daughter," she said calmly. "We just can't accept what she's done."

"What she's done?" Harry said, his tone turning incredulous. "You don't even know what she's done. You want to hold this over your daughter, then you have to know everything else. Hermione Granger is probably the most selfless person I have ever met. She is giving of everything and so self-sacrificing. If you only knew the true role she played in our winning the War; if you only knew ow much she's already suffered. Jesus, why would you want her to suffer any more?"

"Harry?"

"Hermione deserves happiness, and she came here because she won't be able to be happy without her parents. Don't you see? You're her parents. You're supposed to be the people who know her better than anyone. I know that what she did will be difficult to forgive but you have to do it. You have no choice, okay? You're her parents and you're supposed to love her unconditionally. You get to be a family again, and I won't have you throwing it all away just because you can't understand that she loves you so much that she wiped herself from your memories.

"She may have done it to you, but she did it to herself first. The two of you had each other, and Hermione had -"

"You."

Harry paused. "Me. Hermione had me, yes, but I'm not family."

"If you really think that, then you really don't know anything about family," Jane said.

Harry frowned. "Are you saying that to be hurtful?"

Jane looked confused. "What?"

"I don't have any parents," he said. "They died when I was a baby. I was sent to live with my mother's sister's family and they were less than a family. My godfather was killed before I really got to know him. So, no, I don't know anything about family. Everyone who I've ever considered family either died or doesn't want me. I know what that feels like, and I don't want that for Hermione.

"You're alive because of her. I'm alive because of her. You have to forgive her. She's lost enough, and she's cried enough tears. I told her things would be okay with you. I told her that you would forgive her and that everything will work out. I'm many things, believe me, but please don't make me a liar."

Jane blinked. "You really love her, don't you?"

"What?"

"Hermione. You're in love with her?"

Harry's eyes widened. Then, in the next moment, his heart rate dropped quite considerably, and he sat up straight. "I do, yes," he said simply. And that was that. Harry didn't think he could bring himself to say anything more on the subject of Hermione or his relationship with her. So, standing up, he informed them of where they could find Hermione when they came to their senses, and then he left, muttering his goodbye.