As Harry slid down onto the bench in the empty seat next to Hermione.

"I need to talk to you," he said to her quietly. Ron was talking to Dean and Seamus about Quidditch and wasn't paying attention thankfully.

"What about?" she asked in a careful tone. Harry started shoveling food onto his plate. He didn't care what it was. He glanced at her, unsure what to say. He didn't want to say Ginny's name so close to Ron, even if he wasn't paying attention.

"Never mind, I think I know."

"You do?" As Harry picked up his fork, he had a brief moment where he felt like he could see himself. He hated himself for how pathetic he felt in that moment. He wished he could have been talking to Hermione about something really important and world-altering. Like that Voldemort was trying to kill him again. What he wouldn't give for Hermione to tell him to block his mind against Voldemort, or instead give him that worried glance because his scar was hurting him again.

But no, this worried glance was over a girl.

"You know what," Harry said. He felt his heart lighten for the first time in weeks. "I'm done playing this game." He grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her up. "Ron, we'll be back in a minute," Harry called. Ron held his hand up in a gesture that he'd heard him.

Harry half-led, half-dragged Hermione from the Great Hall.

Once they were out in the hall, he led her outside and down to the edge of the lake so they couldn't be overheard.

"Listen," he said huffing out a deep breath of air.

"I'm listening," she said breathlessly.

"I'm done messing about," he said. He watched her for a moment. He'd been sure that he was going to be totally honest a minute ago before he'd dragged her out here, but now he wasn't sure. He'd wanted to tell her that he'd just been spying on Ginny and Draco, but he also wanted to tell her about the summer and how he'd taken her memory and how he'd turned Ginny down yesterday when he really shouldn't have. Or maybe he should have? He had just wanted to be free of it all, to not have to think or worry about it anymore.

But telling Hermione would certainly not help him that way.

"You're messing about? With Ginny you mean?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest even though it was a balmy afternoon.

"Yes. You know what? Forget I said anything. I'm just being strange," he said, and started coughing. He cleared his throat. "Let's go back inside."

"What? A minute ago you looked like you'd just figured out that you saved the world and now you look like you're in pain again… goodness, are you alright?" Harry had started coughing again and still hadn't stopped as she said this.

And then, Harry coughed up blood and spat it to the ground.

"Merlin! What is wrong, Harry?!" Hermione said, laying a hand on his back and grabbing his arm to steady him as he coughed up blood again.

Harry had no idea what was wrong, but he couldn't tell her this because his mouth was full of blood. He felt overcome with dizziness then and knelt down. He saw a mermaid swim up to just under the surface of the lake and gaze at him.

"Let's get you to the hospital wing. Shall I levitate you?" Hermione was looking over her shoulders and up to the stairs but no one else was around. Everyone else was eating lunch still.

"No, don't. It'll draw too much attention. I'm fine, really. I probably just accidentally got something in a cut in Potions or something."

"Of course! Yes, of course, Harry. Shall I take you to Professor Slughorn?" Hermione had a hand on his arm and a hand cuffing the back of his robes.

"No, let's see Madame Pomfrey. She won't make a big deal of this. Really, I'm fine. You don't need to grip me so hard."

"Put your arm around me then," she said, "Then if you start to fall, you can grab me."

"No. That's not necessary." They started towards the steps but Harry's vision started to go black. He was seeing stars. He took a few deep breaths and Hermione held him tighter as they stopped.

"Just have your wand ready, alright?" Harry said. Together, they started their way up the steps.

"Thanks for practicing with me," Ginny said.

"It was a good idea," Draco said, shrugging, "and it's helping me as much as you… I should thank you."

"So then thank me," she said, lifting the strap of her bag to her shoulder as she followed Draco out of the Slytherin Common Room.

"Thank you," he said flatly.

"You're welcome." It was quiet for a moment as they walked together up the steps toward the Great Hall. Ginny was lost in thought. It was amazing how seeing inside someone else's mind could make you understand that person so much better.

She couldn't believe it, but she was actually feeling a bit sorry for Draco and his upbringing. She understood his supposed derision for Harry now, anyway… it was all pretend. Draco actually liked Harry and had wanted to be his friend. From Draco's point of view, it was Harry who had prevented it.

She started to wonder if Draco couldn't have been an asset to Harry if Harry hadn't been so stupid to outright reject him before even getting to know him. Maybe Draco would have been nicer, a more sympathetic person in general? He may have started questioning his father's politics a few years earlier than he did, anyway. Maybe Draco could have even acted as a double agent somehow…

Further than that, she'd never noticed: Draco felt as lonely as she did most of the time. Sure, he'd had friends, but they were vapid, small-minded friends. Friends who had really only used him for lust or power...

"Can I ask…" Draco drawled slowly. "The last memory… was that? Well…"

"It wasn't real. I'm not like, secretly married or something." She laughed. "It was something I saw when I was on Wizard's Weed. Have you ever done it?" she answered too quickly. She'd been too far inside her head, thinking about him.

"Wizard's Weed? No. I haven't."

"Well, it's good fun if you don't take it too seriously, but it's almost impossible not to take it seriously."

"Have you ever done Hush?"

"No, I haven't even heard of that. What's Hush?"

"It's a Middle Eastern thing. It's related to Wizard's Weed but when you take Hush, it's supposed to make you more spiritual somehow. I've never done it. I guess it was big during the first time the Dark Lord… er, Voldemort was in power."

"I see. That's interesting. Do you know anyone who's done it?"

"Blaise Zambini has done it. He likes it… would you like me to get you some?"

"Yeah, why not? How much is it?"

"I have no idea, actually," he said slowly, grinning, "The first one will be on me though, alright? As a present for, well, for keeping my secrets for me."

"I don't know any secrets."

"Not yet. But you will, I'm sure."

"Ha, we'll see about that."

Ginny caught sight of Hermione and Harry then as she supported him up the stairs. "See you later," she called to Draco as he walked into the Great Hall. Ginny hurried up the stairs and quickly caught up with Harry and Hermione.

"What's wrong?" she demanded immediately.

"Harry's ill," Hermione explained. Ginny held his other arm and walked with them.

"I'm not ill, I'm fine. I probably just had a bit of poison in Potions or something," Harry said. Ginny could hear in his voice that he didn't believe even himself but she wasn't going to point this out now.

She gritted her teeth and said instead, "What's wrong? Why is their blood on the front of your robes? And what's that black on your trousers?"

"He was coughing up blood," Hermione said.

At the same time, Harry said, "I dropped my ink. Must have missed some."

"Coughing up blood. That sounds serious," Ginny said quietly.

The three walked on with only the sound of the Great Hall behind them for a while longer.

"Hermione, you should go back and tell Ron what's going on. He's probably wondering where we are."

"Oh, he'll be fine," Hermione said immediately.

"So will I," Harry said.

"Well…" Hermione said. And she gently let go of Harry as they reached the landing of the stairs. "If you're sure…"

"Quite sure. I'll see you later on. I won't be in the hospital wing long anyway. I still have my office hours to hold."

"Right. Okay. Well, I'll check on you later, alright?" Hermione said. She gave his arm a light squeeze and then went back down the stairs.

Harry felt awkward with Ginny there helping him. But even so, he still felt calmer with her around. Like she was the key to unlocking the good part of him, despite all the sadness and uncertainty she was causing him anymore.

Harry realized that was the real trouble. If he didn't feel better when she was around, there wouldn't even be a problem. He'd get over her the way he he'd gotten over Cho. Quickly and completely.

The phrase, 'still have feelings' didn't nearly encompass how he felt about her.

He thought about how he'd felt when he kissed Hermione the first time. Yeah, it'd been awkward, but also, it wasn't bad. It didn't feel wrong, not totally anyway. How could he have felt that way with Hermione if he felt like this towards Ginny? Had he only been using Hermione as a placeholder for Ginny? Or was Hermione who he really was meant to be with and Ron was in both of their ways?

It didn't matter, Harry realized. The answers to those questions were doomed to never be found out. He couldn't change anything: at least this feeling wasn't new to him.

They reached the hospital wing. It appeared to be deserted. Ginny led him to the nearest bed and he sat down. She knelt down before him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, laying a hand on his forehead. He'd seen mothers do this in Muggle movies before and as a child had always wished someone would do that to him. Aunt Petunia certainly never did… on the rare occasion that Harry was sick as a child, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had acted as though he'd done so on purpose only because he apparently wanted to get Dudley sick…

"I'm fine," Harry said, swallowing.

"You know," she whispered in his ear, "The offer still stands. I know the best ways to make you feel better, Potter." She leaned back on her heels and winked at him.

Harry's heart leapt in hope and surprise.

"What, right here? Bloody and on a hospital cot?" he said quietly back.

"What's going on here?" Madam Pomfrey strode out from her office at the back of the room, "Potter? It's only the third day of school! Already here? Blood down your robes… It's not even Quidditch season yet!"

"He just started coughing up blood out of nowhere. He said he thinks he might have eaten some poison accidentally or something," Ginny explained.

"No I thought I might have gotten something in a cut during Potions."

"What cut?" Madam Pomfrey asked. Harry held up his hands and flipped them over and back again. There wasn't a cut there.

"Well, maybe I did eat some poison. I don't know," Harry said, shrugging.

"Well, Miss Weasley, that'll be all. Thank you," Madam Pomfrey said, shooing her away. Ginny winked at Harry before she left.

"Put this under your tongue," Madam Pomfrey said, holding up her wand. Harry did as she said though she'd never done this before to his recollection (though, he admitted to himself, he was usually unconscious when he first arrived here).

After a few minutes, she pulled her wand out of his mouth and shook it like an old-fashioned thermometer. It shot out dark blue sparks.

"Just what I thought," she said, nodding and looking him up and down like she was scanning him with her eyes. Then she said, "I got a report from St. Mungo's the other day that you'd visited over the summer because of a broken leg."

"Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten," Harry said.

"I believe you have Hexed Soldier's Heart. Also known as PMTD-Post Magical Trauma Disorder."

"Oh." Harry had no idea what this was, of course.

"There isn't a cure," said Madam Pomfrey. "I'm afraid the only thing for it is therapy."

"Therapy?" Harry repeated blankly.

"Yes. You're getting physical ailments as a result of psychological trauma and turmoil that you're attempting to ignore. It isn't healthy and your body is magically trying to tell you that you're sick by actually letting itself become sick."

"Really?" Harry thought about getting up and just leaving. He was supposed to be in his office in case any of his students wanted to visit for his office hours right now.

"Really," she said seriously, folding her hands in front of her. "Would you like to start now or wait until tomorrow? If you don't deal with whatever is troubling you, the physical problems will only get worse until… well, they quite possibly will kill you."

"Right." Harry, of course, didn't believe her. He'd never heard of this before. Why didn't anyone else have this if he did? He stood up. "Am I free to go?"

"Not yet."

"Okay." Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and waited.

"Please come three times a week after supper. We'll talk for no less than a half an hour to an hour. Agreed?"

"Madam Pomfrey, I mean no disrespect, but this is N.E.W.T. year… and I'm teaching half the Defense classes…"

"If you don't have your health, Mr. Potter, none of those other things will matter much." She hitched her hands to her hips. "If you don't want to have therapy with me, I can arrange for a healer to come but it might be expensive."

"No I'm fine talking to you. It's fine. What days would you like me to come?"

"Well, it'd be best to start as soon as possible. How would tonight suit you?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged.

"Good, then I'll see you around seven or so. Now you're free to go."

Harry stood and immediately went back to the Defense classroom. He felt fine.