A/N: Don't worry. Despite the title, this has NO DH spoilers. It is definitely AU.

Harry couldn't look at her, laid out on his bed, her hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her.  One look at her and he'd stay, he'd stay and he'd die a little inside no matter how much she loved him, no matter how much he loved her… sometimes love isn't all you need.

Often times you need more than that.

So he snuck from his (their) bed, threw some clothes in a bag, and went to take a shower.  Clean, but still feeling dirty, his hand paused at the doorknob to check on Hermione but no.  His hand stayed, millimeters from the brass and he forced himself to turn away.

He'd be back.

His feet took him down the stairs and out the door to an Apparating point.  His wand took him to Kings Cross where he bought a ticket to a train that would take him to Wales where he would board a ferry for Ireland, head south and maybe west or perhaps back east to the Continent.  Either way, he'd never been to either Wales or Ireland so both sounded like fun. 

The train didn't leave for another hour so there Harry sat, watching the toe of his trainer scuff the dirty tile of the waiting area instead of people watching as he supposed he should have.

Even for years afterwards he still wouldn't be able to figure out what exactly made him look up but look up he did and there, just sitting down across from him was a familiar bushy head of hair.  She was replacing her wallet in her bag and was settling down for a wait when she too looked up and noticed him.

Time froze in that instant.  They both knew what the other was doing, if not where they were going.  It didn't matter; the destination was the same if not the route.

“Well…” Harry finally spoke up.  “This is awkward.”

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed, sitting back in her chair and watching him with a touch of wariness.

The silence that sprang up between them stretched until it snapped.  “Where're you going?” Hermione asked softly.

 "Wales.  You?”

Her lips (it was all he could do not to lean across and press his to hers, fuse them together like they had been a mere three hours before) twitched in a grin.  “Me too.”

“Ireland?”

“Ireland.”

“D'you… want to sit next to me on the train?” he asked looking down at the rubber tip of his trainer scuffing the dirty tile of the waiting area.

“Yeah… I do…” she murmured standing and sitting next to him.  She opened her palm on the arm rest between them and he put his hand in hers, entwining their fingers together.

“Is this still running away?” he whispered looking over at her.

“No.  Not when you've been found.”