Summary: "I'm going to Australia," Hermione said, her voice not much louder than a whisper, the sentence almost getting lost in the breeze. "I'm going to try to - to get my parents." Harry sipped his coffee at that, not really knowing what to say. He thought he felt his heart constrict a little but he immediately dismissed it as nothing when the hot drink scalded the roof of his mouth.

A/N: Title is a line from the song "Come What May" from Baz Luhrmann's "Moulin Rouge!" - this was written because I believe that every great modern romance needs at least one airport scene.

Like I've Never Seen the Sky Before

"We've had time, haven't we? We're with you whatever happens."

- Hermione

Harry loved the feeling of flying.

The weightlessness that came from being up in the air ... the gratifying sting of the wind whipping against his face ... there were very few places Harry Potter felt so calm and in control of his life, and up in the air on his broomstick with just the clothes on his back was one of them.

Gliding his Firebolt to a hovering standstill, Harry took a deep breath through his nostrils, shutting his eyes to the impressive hillside view of Ottery St. Catchpole. Even with his eyes closed, Harry knew the Lovegoods' oddly shaped tower home lay just ahead ... he could picture Luna's carefully tended Dirigible Plums garden thriving anew in the early summer air. The Burrow lay a short distance behind him, its slightly leaning stature still one of the most welcoming sights he'd ever seen ... and not too far away from there ... the small cemetery where they had buried Fred not too long ago.

Harry tightened his grip on his Firebolt, knuckles turning white. He opened his eyes, the sun blinding him momentarily as it steadily rose higher in the morning sky. Sighing heavily, he began his flight back to the Burrow so that he'd make it in time for breakfast. He flew at a much slower pace than when he had first set out, not very eager to return to a house full of people. While he loved each and every person in that house - he considered them his family after all - Harry found that, lately, he preferred being alone.

"What do you do when you go off all the time?" Ginny had asked when she, Harry, Ron and Hermione stayed up late sitting in front of the fireplace one night.

Harry had shrugged, not knowing how to answer. "Think," he replied halfheartedly, knowing that the word didn't hold as much meaning as he wished it did.

Ginny hadn't pushed the subject further, slowly nodding as if she grasped what he was saying (or rather, what he was not saying) though her eyebrows remained knitted in slight bewilderment. Harry's gaze had fallen upon Hermione then and he was surprised (but not really) to see her eyes shine in perfect understanding.

He had felt his heart skip a beat when she had smiled softly at him before she stood up and bid them all good night.

Deftly landing on the lush green grass of the Weasleys' backyard, Harry started at the sight of the very girl he had been thinking about. Hermione held out a cup of coffee to him.

"Good morning," she greeted in a gentle voice. "Thought you might like some."

He accepted the cup gratefully, watching as Hermione took a seat on the wrought-iron garden bench that was gradually getting overrun by plants and weeds. Harry took a seat next to her, propping his Firebolt up against the house. The two sat in companionable silence, the air around them retaining some morning chill and smelling of dew.

"I'm going to Australia," Hermione said, her voice not much louder than a whisper, the sentence almost getting lost in the breeze. "I'm going to try to - to get my parents." Harry sipped his coffee at that, not really knowing what to say. He thought he felt his heart constrict a little but he immediately dismissed it as nothing when the hot drink scalded the roof of his mouth.

"I'll be leaving in a few days."

Harry stopped breathing, that squeezing feeling returning full force, making the task difficult.

"H-How long will you be gone?" he asked after a long moment of silence (even the crickets appeared to have stopped chirping).

Hermione shrugged, choosing not to look at him and simply stared straight ahead.

"I don't know ... however long it'll take, I suppose. I've never reversed a spell like this before. I-I didn't think I'd need to." Her words hung thick in the air as the implications and what-if's grew and suffocated the pair of them. Something inside of Harry cracked a little.

"I've spoken to Professor McGonagall and - and consulted with Professor Flitwick. I'm fairly certain things will go smoothly." Her smile of reassurance (for him? or for herself?) did not reach her eyes.

"I'm sure you'll be brilliant, Hermione ... You always are." A tinge of pink coloured her cheeks at this easy statement. Harry felt the strange urge to brush the hairs that had escaped her ponytail behind her ears. Instead, he grabbed her hand, allowing his thumb to graze the inside of her wrist before letting go.

"Thank you, Harry." Gaze downcast, Hermione stared at the hand he had just held. When she looked up, he noticed that, this time, the smile reached her eyes. Harry felt her place her hand over his on the bench. She opened her mouth to say something else, blinked, then promptly closed it as if she thought better of it. Standing up stiffly, she began the walk back to the house.

"Let's go in for some breakfast before any of the Weasleys notice we're missing."

It bothered him when the subject of her leaving was not brought up again.

She and everyone else continued to behave as usual (or as usual as they could while their entire world rebuilt itself). However, there were times when he caught her staring off, deep in thought ... or when her laughs rang a little too loud or her eyes glistened with unshed tears at random moments.

"No, Ron, no, I'm going to be taking an airplane to Australia!" Hermione had told him.

"An air ... plane?" Ron had stammered, his mouth fumbling over the foreign words. "What does that do?"

"Well -" Hermione had started, her posture straightening as she prepared to go into a lengthy explanation reminiscent of their Hogwarts days.

"It has the word 'air' in it, mate," Harry had interrupted. "It's a Muggle vehicle type thing that can fly."

Ron had blinked at them. "Are there brooms attached to it?" he asked quite seriously.

A laugh escaped Harry as he tried to stifle the noise into his fist. Hermione gave a very undignified snort. Realizing his question had come off as rather daft, Ron had eventually joined them as well. It was the first time the three of them had laughed all together in a long time.

All of a sudden, Hermione had started sobbing.

"Blimey, Hermione! What's gotten into you?" Ron had asked, bemused.

"Nothing! Nothing!" she had exclaimed, hastily wiping at her eyes. "I'm just ... I'm just going to miss you is all!"

Ron had reacted quickly as Hermione launched herself at him. "You're going to come back though!" he had muttered, stroking her back in confusion.

Hermione had sniffed in response, pulling back from Ron to smile affectionately at him but not saying anything else.

Harry leaned against the doorjamb at their display, an unsettling feeling slowly consuming him from the inside.

The night before her departure, he stumbled across her packing.

Her usual side of Ginny's bedroom looked strangely bare to him, her cot looking tidy and untouched, all her possessions packed away.

"You ... you have everything then?" he rasped, inwardly flinching at the sound of her trunk clicking shut.

"Yes, yes," she mumbled absently, scanning the room for anything she could have forgotten. "I'll be leaving Crookshanks. I don't think he'd behave on a flight to Australia, or stand the heat for that matter ..." She chuckled quietly at the thought, but it seemed short and forced. She fingered one of Crookshanks' toys that she had knitted back at Hogwarts before carelessly throwing it back on to the pile of cat stuff on the ground. "Luna said she'd take care of him. She was rather fascinated that he's part Kneazle. Apparently they help ward off Wargles or Nackspurts or something." She turned to him, shoulders shrugging at the emptiness of her half of the room. Harry felt the need to grab on to her then, to anchor her to his side where she had always been for the past seven years. He wanted nothing more than to brush her hair behind her ears again.

"You mean Nargles ... and Wrackspurts," Harry corrected her distratedly. The tightness around his heart had returned full force and the only way he knew how to fight this tidal wave of emotion was to have Hermione as close to him as possible. The thought of having to say goodbye - goodbye to Hermione for who knew how long - scared him immensely.

Not knowing what else to do to quell the growing fear inside of him, he leaned in and kissed her. She kissed back, at first hesitantly but then more forcefully, their lips slowly moving against one another as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Placing her hands upon his shoulders, Hermione gently broke the kiss, their noses and foreheads still touching. "I-I promise to write," she whispered. Harry could feel her lips moving over his own as she spoke. She took a step back then, but their bodies were still so close they were almost touching. Raising a tentative hand, Hermione tenderly brushed the hairs atop his head and Harry was transported back to the last time her fingers did that, snow and ice all around them.

Like last time, Harry closed his eyes at her touch. The faint noise of Ron, Ginny, and the others coming from downstairs lazily floated around them and finally penetrated their moment.

Too soon, Hermione removed her hand and stepped back, Harry's eyes flying open at the loss of contact.

"Oh, Harry!" She threw her arms around him in one of her signature hugs as Harry responded reflexively, hugging her back. He turned his head into her neck and breathed.

'Please don't go,' he wanted to say even though he knew that he never would.

"Hermione," he whispered instead, his lips ghosting over her skin.

She doesn't wake him when she leaves.

The sharp crack of her Apparition causes him to shift in his sleep but it still takes him fifteen minutes to wake up, His body finally notices her absence from the couch they both spent the night on (they had talked late into the night in front of the fireplace, fighting sleep for as long as they could).

He curses then, bolting up the stairs to check Ginny's room. He comes across nothing but her bare cot, her trunk and bags gone. Even Crookshanks' pile of possessions were absent, presumably picked up by Luna some time the night before. Ginny raises her sleepy head in confusion but he's already bursting into Ron's room next.

"She left already," Ron says, already awake, greeting him upon the door flying open. "Didn't she wake you?"

Harry does not hear anything, a soft whine of panic occupying his head instead. Dashing around the room like a madman, he sheds his sleeping clothes for a pair of jeans and a shirt he hurriedly picks up from the floor. Before Ron can say anything else and before he, himself, knows what he's doing, Harry Apparates to the airport.

When he arrives he is suddenly made aware of how unprepared he is at doing - doing what, he doesn't even know exactly.

He's never stepped foot in Heathrow Airport so his Apparition to the place is sloppy and he ends up appearing in an outside rubbish bin. He unceremoniously falls out of the bin, cursing, scraping his hands on the concrete as he lands. Luckily no one notices the strange boy who had just appeared in a trash can. Kicking off a banana peel from his shoe, Harry sprints through the doors of the airport.

He is immediately overwhelmed as he enters, the lobby whirring with activity as queues upon queues of people burst forth from the front desks. All around him, people of all kinds - executives talking urgently into their mobiles, families wandering in packs, couples in the midst of arguing over the weight of their luggage - threatened to bowl him over with their own rushing bodies or their suitcases on wheels. The fact that he has never been inside an airport, ever, in his entire life, dimly registers in his mind as his eyes wildly scan the enormous entrance hall for some kind of sign on where he can find Hermione.

He shuts his eyes in frustration and clutches the sides of his head, blindly turning in spot as his brain screams "Think ... think ... THINK!" at him. Opening his eyes, he is met with the sight of several monitors, each glowing screen winking mockingly at him as departure times and gate numbers flash before him. Seizing on to the machines, Harry's eyes dart over the words, finally settling upon the destination "SYDNEY".

He breaks into a run, almost tripping over the cage of an old woman's cat, not even stopping to apologize. His trainers smack upon the linoleum floor as he desperately races past ticket kiosks, gift shops and confused travelers. It's only when he runs right into a security guard that he realizes a gigantic flaw in his ill-thought-out plan.

"Excuse me, sir, but where do you think you're going?" the security guard asks.

"I-I'm, er ..." Harry stutters. The other security workers have paused in their duties of searching bags and other travelers stare as Harry looks around in vain.

"You need to get in line over there to be searched before you can cross here," the guard informs him, gesturing towards the long lines of people waiting to be cleared.

"I can't!" Harry cries out frantically. The guard raises an eyebrow at this outburst. "Th-there's a girl! I don't have any time! I need to -" He stumbles over his words, the notion that he must look like a complete lunatic in front of all these people pounding against his skull. He faintly remembers the cheesy romances Aunt Petunia used to watch where blokes running through airports to get the girl never ran into problems like the one he was currently in.

"Oy, piss off, Casablanca!" a disgruntled traveler calls out from the crowd.

"Sir, we really need you to move," the security guard continues saying, stepping forward.

Harry's hand grips his wand hidden in the waistband of his jeans and he wonders if he could discretely cast a Confundus without anyone knowing ...

"Harry?" an incredulous voice calls out to him.

He turns around, not daring to hope ...

"Harry!" and suddenly she is running towards him, here, now, present, at this very place.

"H-Hermione!" he says as she envelops him in a quick but strong hug. Words come tumbling out of her mouth in a frenzy as she pulls back from him.

"What are you doing here? Are you mad? I had just gotten through and then I heard all this commotion going on behind me and never would I have thought that you'd be here! Has something happened? Is Ron and Ginny and the others all right? Should I-"

"Everyone is perfectly fine," he says before drawing her closer and silencing her with a kiss, noting how much he enjoys the way her lips respond to his when surprised. There's a smattering of applause and groans from the crowd around them.

"Miss," the security guard says in a tired tone. "The two of you are going to have to step aside so that we can resume getting these people through."

"Oh but I had just gone through! My flight should be boarding any minute! My bag is just on the other side over there, I just-"

"Then either you two say your goodbyes now or you're going to have to wait in line again and risk missing your flight."

Hermione bites her lip and Harry could see the internal battle happening in her eyes. He tightens his hold around her waist, not ever wanting to let her go again. He felt very calm and in control ... He finally knew what he came here to do.

"I'll go with you," Harry says in a firm and steady voice. Hermione slowly turns her head to face him, her arms going limp from where they had wrapped around his neck.

"Harry..." she begins, but Harry's grip around her only grows stronger.

"I'll go with you," he repeats.

Tears fall from her eyes now and Harry's hand comes up to wipe them away. He marvels at how he never felt compelled to do that with any other girl.

"B-but what about-" she stammers, her voice hitching upon each word.

"Sod anything else! I'm coming with you! ... I'm with you whatever happens," he murmurs so only she could hear. They lean in and kiss again, Hermione's hands coming to tangle in his hair.

It's only when security comes to separate them that they think to finally come up for air.

end.

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