It was past midnight when the fireplace in the Black ancestral home lit up with vibrant green flames, and a tired man stepped through, brushing soot off his cloak. The fire died quickly, but enough light remained in the glowing embers for him to remove his glasses and wipe them absentmindedly with the hem of his shirt. It had been a trying day. The relief he felt from Hermione's return had been replaced by another agonizing worry, and they were still uncertain as to the particulars of the vile spell within her. They had awoken her and discussed the news at length as a group. In the end, Hermione agreed to stay at St. Mungo's for the near future; meanwhile, Dr. Frackenburger would be observing and analyzing all the data available. Their group's next actions, however, had been subject to a bitter dispute. Harry shuddered as he recalled the nervous, angry voices that had reverberated in-between the OR's sterile walls when Voldemort's name was mentioned.

"He is dead, Harry. Dead. Two hundred people saw him burn to ashes! There was nothing! You don't… you do not come back from that."

"You really want to take that chance, Ron? After he came back once already? After so many died in the last war? You, of all people-"

"Don't. Don't bring Fred's death into this to make a point."

"But it does concern everyone! We can't sit idly by-

"So what do you want to do?! Because I know what you're thinking, Harry, and you want to make this official!"

"Damn right I do! If we come out in advance of this, get an investigation going, warn people-"

"Oh, I can see tomorrow's spread in the Daily Prophet already! 'Harry Potter and Crazy Doctor Prophesise Third Coming of You-Know-Who!' Because that went over so well last time."

"Things are different now-"

"No, they're not! You think that just because you're a hero people will listen to you? Some might, yeah, but the majority will turn on you quicker than you can say 'Crucio'! Vol… Voldemort is a word that still terrifies people! Everyone will hide their heads in the sand, while committing you to this exact mental ward, right here! 'Arry Potter,' they'll say, munching on biscuits during morning tea. 'Went a bit crazy after the war. All that trauma, you know, what a shame.' You want to go through that again?!"

"Ok, stop it, you two!" Hermione's voice cut in. "Ill girl with evil unknown spell inside her head right here, remember? No more yelling. We can figure this out."

The tension in the room dissipated as both young men took a breath. Frackenburger, who had been present during their argument, ignored them entirely, his gaze chained to the shining squiggly lines inside his projector tank. "Fascinating, utterly fascinating," he would mutter time from time.

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. He needed a good night's rest. They all did.

"Harry," Ron suddenly gulped, seeing his friend's actions. "Your scar… it hasn't…?"

"What?" Harry realized what he was doing and tore his hand away. "Oh, no. Nothing like that. But then, with the horcrux gone, there shouldn't be any connection anyway. So if this isn't some mistake, then I wouldn't know about it. I think."

"Ok, I am sick of hearing things that I only have a tentative grasp on. I really want my mind whole already." Hermione sounded annoyed and miffed at the same time. "Harry, I'm sorry to say this, but Ron's right. From what I've gathered so far, even a single mention of this Voldemort character can cause a panic. I feel foul just uttering that name, even without any distinct memories of who he was or what he did. We cannot be certain that the good doctor is right, and, even if he is, there could be a number of other explanations. So let's keep this between us for now, while the professor and I treat my condition. We gather information and focus on restoring my memories. Then we work from there. Agreed?" Harry and Ron, weary from arguing, nodded. "Professor?"

Frackenburger, completely entranced, didn't respond. His Quick-Notes Quill was in a frenzy, scribbling notes on a crumpled bit of parchment.

"Professor!" Hermione raised her voice. "Prof- oh, it's useless. Ron, wake him up, will you?"

Ron had to shake Frackenburger's shoulder to withdraw him from a state of academic zeal. He succeeded only on the third try.

"Ah? Ah? Yes?" Frackenburger looked slightly dazed.

"Have you heard a word we've said?"

Frackenburger looked offended. Waving a dismissive hand in front of Ron's face, he scrunched his face into an irritated expression.

"You mean all this distracting meaningless babble? No. Not a word. Now, if you please…"

"Ok, before you dive into your brain swamp, you listen here, professor. You don't speak a word of this to anyone! You got that? Not your wife, not your children, not even your cat, frog or goldfish! Most importantly, you do not mention that name outside this room! Understand?"

"I wasn't born yesterday, young man. Now, remove your…"

After that, they had agreed to keep Hermione company in 12-hour shifts (to which she objected once, feebly), with Ron taking the first one. Harry would catch a bit of shut-eye before-

"Harry Potter!"

Startled back into the present, Harry whirled around, and was met with the absolutely livid eyes of his wife.

A twisting, guilty feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. In all of the recent events, neither he nor Ron had contacted Ginny or anyone else for that matter. Ginny was a strong woman, but she had already been forced to endure his absence during the war. That was in addition to the constant missions when you never knew if a friend or loved one would return home safe. She tried to hide it now, but Harry knew she worried when he was gone for too long. And he hadn't sent her a single note. In fact, he hadn't seen her at all in...

"Two days!" Ginny screeched, throwing a book in Harry's direction, which he barely managed to dodge. A Modern Witch's Handbook: Your Daily Guide To Handy Spells and Incantations he read on the cover as it sailed by his nose, before shattering a vase on the mantlepiece into a million pieces.

"No word! No owl! Gone!"

Harry found himself in that unenviable position of a man who has wronged his spouse. It's a very common ailment of marriage, and no comprehensive cure has yet been discovered for its cause. Only the symptoms can be treated, which is where so many men fail. They tend to forget that if chocolates and a flower saved their neighbor's marriage, they should not assume the same will hold true in their case. A personal approach is required, but that means you have to pay attention to your partner. You need to listen to them and avoid needless provocations. Especially if they're already chucking books in your face.

Which is how Harry found himself crouching on the floor, using a couch for cover. A very wise and expedient choice, for Quidditch through the Ages, followed by Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (tomes 2 and 3) crashed in quick succession all around him.

"Running around, worried sick all day! Asked everybody!"

"Ginny…"

"Mum almost had a fit when she heard! Both you and Ron missing!"

"Ginny…"

"DON'T YOU 'GINNY' ME! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN DEAD, FOR ALL I KNEW!"

Ginny's magic, fueled by anger and distress, swept through the room, upending chairs, knocking books from shelves, shattering glass. Harry yelped, feeling a sting on his cheek. He felt a warm, slippery wetness when he touched it.

"Oh, Merlin, baby." Ginny clasped her mouth, horrified, anger slipping away. She rushed over to kneel by her husband. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" Her frantic, shaking hands went to Harry's cheek, revealing a shallow cut.

"It's just a scratch, Gin." He sat up, engulfed by his wife's embrace.

"Oh, Gods, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I was so worried…" She sobbed, clutching his shoulder.

"No, honey," he whispered in her ear, hugging her back. "I'm sorry. It's my fault, I was so overwhelmed that I forgot… I should have owled you or sent a patronus or… well, anything."

"I know, but I shouldn't have yelled like that. I just…" Her wide, moist eyes were filled with worry and regret.

"I know."

Harry propped his back against the couch, keeping his arm around Ginny. She pressed into him, happy, so happy and relieved that he was ok.

"I went to your work," she murmured, wiping her eyes, and Harry felt another sting of shame that he forced her to such extremes. "Asked where you were."

"What did they tell you?"

Ginny made a disgusted noise.

"I ran into that fat-faced bastard Rawlings. He had the fucking audacity to hint that it's natural for men to stray sometimes. I almost hexed his arse right there."

"He shouldn't have said that. Rawlings talks too much."

"No shit. It took all I had to wait until he finally babbled that he'd seen you overnight on a mission."

"Did you hex him them?"

"You bet I did," she replied with a cheeky grin. "He had a quaffle-sized pimple growing on one of his asscheeks by the time I left."

"Mmm, good girl." Harry nuzzled against Ginny's neck, breathing in a sweet floral scent. "New perfume?"

A trace of a smile ghosted over Ginny's lips as she tilted her head so that Harry's lips found her ear. He nibbled on it, bringing forth a content sigh.

"Maybe." Her breaths became heavier, hands came to ruffle his hair.

"I like it," Harry said, as his fingers traced her sides and reached under her blouse.

Ginny turned, meeting his loving eyes, their breaths mixing together. "So will you tell where you were?"

"I'll tell you everything," whispered Harry, sliding his hands a bit higher. "In a bit…"

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