It is an interesting thing, that when one did not want something to end, time passed more quickly.

The journey back to London was one of those times. A part of Harry was excited to be going home, yet at the same time, returning to Britain was the last thing he wanted. He knew, of course, that their month in Australia was but a temporary respite, that sooner or later, they would have to get on with the rest of their lives, but that did not make him any more excited at the prospect of returning to that shattered reality of home.

He could sleep very little, even in the rather comfortable reclining Business Class seats. Hermione, too, spent much of the journey tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Nor were they the only ones to feel this way. With each hour that passed, the look on Sirius's face turned more dreadful, and it was not difficult to guess what had him so distressed. Returning to Grimmauld Place after nearly three weeks of escape must have brought some sense of impending doom.

They touched down in the early hours of the morning. They had no bags – the vast majority of Hermione's parents' things had been sent back magically weeks before, and whatever was left were split between the others' enchanted bags. Thanks to them travelling light, they sped through passport control and customs in no time at all.

Sirius was silent the whole time, looking more and more forlorn as they got on one of the first trains into the city. Harry tried to engage him in conversation, but he would never say much more than simple 'yes' and 'no', sometimes not even saying anything and opting to grunt instead.

James and Lily tried to reassure him that they were not, in fact, going to Grimmauld Place. Their words, however, did not seem to have much of an effect on Sirius, who did not appear to even be hearing them. Giving up, they instead began talking with Helen and Josh about James's university plans. As happy as he was about his father's ambitions, Harry could not help but feel concern. If James was going to spend more time away, working on his studies, would he have time still to help Sirius? Or Hermione? Or himself?

They reached Paddington station, and Sirius slumped further into his seat as the train came to a halt, not wanting to get off. The train slowly emptied, and soon enough, they were the last ones still on board.

'Come on, Sirius,' Lily coaxed softly. 'Let's go.'

Sirius said nothing in response to her and remained steadfastly in his seat, looking out of the window with a lost expression on his seat.

'The train's going to turn around soon,' James said. 'It's going to bring you back to the airport.'

'Better than going…back,' Sirius murmured darkly.

James and Lily exchanged an inscrutable look. 'We've told you already. You won't be going back there.'

Sirius turned and looked at them, wariness in every line of his face. 'I'd rather stay in the airport than return to Number Twelve.'

Lily took a breath. 'James and I have told you…we're going to – '

'Excuse me,' came a voice from down the aisle. Harry's head snapped up to see the conductor standing in the aisle, an annoyed look on his face. 'This is the terminus of this service. This train is going on to the depot. You need to get off right now.'

'Come on, Sirius,' Lily said, more firmly this time. 'We need to go. Don't worry, we're not going…there.'

Reluctantly, Sirius stood up, his shoulders slouched and his head bowed. They walked down the aisle towards the carriage door, and James muttered an apology to the conductor before they disembarked.

Robotically, James and Lily guided Sirius towards the Underground station, the others following close behind. It was still quite early in the morning, so thankfully, the trains were not crowded at all. James and Lily tried to soothe Sirius as the ride continued, but it was, again, a wasted effort. With each stop that passed, he grew ever more gloomy.

The train arrived at King's Cross, and Sirius stood up shakily. Harry and Hermione, too, got their things ready, preparing to disembark, but surprisingly, James, Lily, and Hermione's parents remained sitting, seeming like they had not even noticed that it was their stop.

'Aren't we getting off?' Sirius asked, his depressed voice now imbued with confusion.

James shook his head. 'No. For the last time, Sirius, we aren't going back to Number Twelve.'

'Then where are we going?' Sirius demanded, his brow furrowing.

'Take a seat. You'll find out.'

Sirius's eyes glinted with what looked like hope for a split second before they dulled again. 'Is this a prank?' he asked, dejected.

James's face grew stern and serious. 'Did you think we're the type of people to pull this kind of prank on you? I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy.'

Sirius still appeared doubtful, but sat down once again between James and Lily. The train doors closed, and they pulled out of King's Cross, continuing east.

And now Harry, too, was confused. Where were they going? It was not to Hermione's house, for they would have had disembarked at King's Cross, too, to change onto a northbound train. Harry tried to silently ask Hermione what was going on, but she, too, looked puzzled. He tried shooting Lily a questioning glance next, but she simply smiled that mysterious smile of hers and said nothing.

They got off four or five stations later and transferred, Hermione's parents, surprisingly, leading the way. They got on another train and rode for twenty or so minutes before disembarking in a part of the city that Harry had never been to.

'Where are we?' Harry asked Hermione in a whisper.

'We should be around…Canary Wharf,' she answered. 'Though where exactly…I have no idea.'

The seven of them walked for ten or so minutes, Helen and Josh leading the way. Finally, they stopped in front of a modern-looking complex. Helen walked up to the guard standing by the gate and said a few words to him before he pushed open the door and let them through.

'What is this?' Sirius asked. 'Where are we?'

'Home, of course,' James replied, turning to Sirius with a grin on his face. 'You didn't think we were going to let you languish in that miserable place, did you?'

Sirius furrowed his brows in apparent confusion. 'Wh-What do you mean, "home"?'

'The place where you live,' James said. 'You won't have to go back to Number Twelve ever again.'

Sirius's eyes flitted between Lily, James, Helen, and Josh, widening in realisation. 'You…you bought a house? When? How?'

'Two flats, actually,' Lily clarified. 'One for James and I and one for you. They're just three doors apart from each other.'

'James and Lily told us about…about how you hated it in your mother's old house,' Helen explained. 'So I got in contact with an old friend from university who's working for a development firm now. She managed to put us at the front of the queue for these flats. And at a reduced price, too.'

'You…you bought me a house?' Sirius gasped, awed.

'We paid for it,' James replied. 'With money from our vault. Well, I suppose some of it is also your money, since…you know.'

Sirius's jaw hung open, his pupils wide and unfocused. His mouth opened and closed, trying to form words, but none came out.

Helen jerked her head towards the building. 'Shall we?'

James guided Sirius forward, a wide, mischievous grin on his face. Harry, too, was in shock as he and Hermione followed them mutely. A part of him even felt irrationally…vexed…that they had kept all this from them for so long. He was thankful for them doing this for Sirius, for sure, but could they not have reassured him sooner that he was not returning to Grimmauld Place, sparing him the days of anguish over that prospect?

Harry tried to shake that thought as they proceeded through the automatic glass doors into a modern lobby. James had obviously not been malicious in his secret-keeping, only perhaps rather insensitive. As they walked slowly towards the lifts, Lily slid a thick leather-bound folder out of her bag and opened it. She flipped through the papers inside, finding and taking out one sheet from near the bottom of the folder.

'It'll be the sixth floor,' she said as they all squeezed in. Hermione reached across and pressed the button. The lift doors closed, and they slowly started moving upwards.

When the door opened, they found themselves standing in a small lobby. A large window was installed opposite the elevator, and it afforded them an incredible view across the Thames and to the city on the other side. The space was furnished with two long sofas and was decorated by two small trees on either side of the window, and a crystal lamp hung from the ceiling.

'This way,' Lily said, pointing to her right.

They walked down a long corridor, lined on either side by dark wooden doors. Lily led them down, nearly to the end, and stopped in front of a door to her left. She reached into her bag once again and produced a small key.

'This is you, Sirius.'

Lily inserted the key into the keyhole and turned. The lock clicked open, and she stepped aside, giving Sirius a small grin. He walked up to the door and smiled sincerely back at Lily. He took a deep breath and depressing the door handle before pushing the door open.

They stepped into a small foyer, which opened into a compact but elegantly furnished lounge. There was a sofa along the back wall flanked by two armchairs. Opposite it, on a chest of drawers, sat a large television.

Sirius walked forward. To their left, the entrance hall led into a short corridor. The door at the end was open, and it led into a clean-looking bathroom. Another door sat closed on the right-hand wall, and Sirius made his way up to it, pushing it open.

It was a bedroom. It was not huge, but it was cosy and far more open and breathable than the oppressive space that Sirius had slept in in Grimmauld Place. The curtains over the windows were open, and the wide window, like the one in the elevator lobby, afforded an incredible view over the river. Several sailboats and cruise ships glided past, and from this vantage point, the people and cars on the opposite bank looked like miniscule ants, moving purposefully and anonymously as they went about their lives.

Sirius turned around, his eyes glistening, his expression lined with emotion. His eyes flitted between every one of the rest of them, and for the second time today, he was fully at a loss for what to say.

'Do you like it?' Lily asked.

Sirius swallowed and nodded. 'Yes,' he answered, his voice shaking.

'I'm glad.'

'Don't worry about the rest of your things,' James added. 'I'll go to Grimmauld Place and get them for you. Just tell me what you need.'

Sirius nodded again. 'Thank you…all of you…for getting me out of that place…' He looked at Helen and Josh. 'And thank you, too…you didn't have to do this…'

'Nonsense,' Josh said, brushing it off. 'Once James told us about how much you hated that place, we couldn't have just let you go back there. Even if we weren't friends, as a medical professional, I'd be obliged to find a way to help you get out of that situation.'

'And you managed to keep…all this…under wraps for…how long?'

'Two-and-a-half weeks,' James replied with a grin. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, mate. I wanted this to be a surprise, but…I probably should've been more upfront with this…told you that you were going to a hotel or…something.'

Sirius laughed with genuine happiness, though Harry could hear that he was holding back tears. 'No, not at all…don't worry about it…thank you…thank you all.' He suddenly turned to Harry. 'And you two…did you know about this?'

Hermione shook her head. 'We were just as surprised as you were.'

'Sorry,' Helen said. 'We didn't want to risk the surprise getting out, so we didn't want to tell anyone else.'

'Do you not trust us, Mum?' Hermione asked, though there was no real accusation in her voice.

'Of course we do, dear,' Helen placated. 'But…but we wanted everyone to be surprised, that's all.'

Hermione snorted and glared at her mother playfully. Helen rolled her eyes at her daughter and looked over at James with an amused expression.

'I remember that you bought something in one of the duty-free shops back in Australia that we might be interested in now?'

James chortled and reached into his own bag. He dug around for a few seconds before withdrawing a small bottle of champagne.

'One toast,' he said, looking sideways at Sirius for a split second. He raised his wand and conjured seven flutes before pouring a little bit of the drink into each one.

'To Sirius, to warm his new flat,' James proclaimed, raising his glass, everyone following his lead. 'To Helen and Josh, for organising all this on an impossibly tight schedule. To Harry and Hermione, for having finally stopped dancing around each other and snogged. To Lily, for being smoking hot and brutally intelligent. And of course, to me, for being me.'

Lily backhanded James on the chest without malice, and they all downed the sweet drink in one gulp, laughing and smiling as carefree as a group of schoolchildren on a Friday afternoon.

Harry was the last to get out of the taxi when it parked in front of Hermione's home. They were back, but Harry did not feel like he was home. In the past weeks, this house had been his and Hermione's space, a private, sacred place where they could be themselves, could laugh together, could cry together, could be together without worry, hidden away from the rest of the world. It felt like their home, and it was more than just a building.

But now, it was different. As happy as he was for Hermione that her parents had returned, and as much as he liked Helen and Josh, it felt like the house had returned to being just that – a house. The familiar and intimate atmosphere of it was gone, replaced by a welcome, but somehow jarring, normality.

He lingered behind a little as Helen and Josh went up to the door. Hermione turned around and beckoned him to her, and he complied, albeit with some reluctance.

'Feeling all right?' she whispered, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Harry shrugged. 'Fine.'

Hermione studied him for a second, her eyes narrowing. 'Something feels off.'

'I'm fine,' Harry repeated, smiling at her. Thankfully, she simply grinned back and did not question any more.

'We're home,' Helen breathed as she pushed open the front door. Once again, Harry felt a little reluctant to step inside, but Hermione guided him forward into the house, and he complied.

The house was exactly how they had left it nearly a month before, the only difference being that every surface was covered in a thin layer of dust. Hermione drew her wand and flicked it. All the dust picked itself off the furniture, appliances, and floor before vanishing into thin air.

'It's good to be back, isn't it?' Josh said.

'It's good to be back,' Helen echoed, and Harry hummed in agreement.

They turned the corner into the lounge. Ten or so boxes were stacked messily directly in front of the hearth. One of them was so precariously perched that Harry thought it might topple over. The wizards from Magical Maintenance, it seemed, had not put too much care into their work – not that Harry could necessarily blame them. They were, in all likelihood, more than inundated already with work towards the reconstruction of the country.

'Magic is quite helpful sometimes, isn't it?' Josh commented with a chuckle. 'Is there a spell that can put all these things in place?'

'No, that there isn't,' Hermione replied, grinning. 'That part will have to be done by hand.'

'Shame,' Helen said. 'We can deal with these later, though. It's almost one. You must be hungry. I know I am.'

Hermione nodded. 'A little.'

'Is there anything in the fridge?'

'No,' Hermione answered. 'We…we didn't really cook when we were staying here.'

'Lived off take-out?' Helen asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Yeah,' Hermione replied, sounding a little sheepish.

Unexpectedly, Helen began to laugh. 'I remember when I was your age…when I first started living on my own. It was at least two months of take-out almost every meal before I started regularly cooking for myself.'

'I was the same,' Josh agreed. 'Though it might've taken me three months or more, actually. I was far lazier than your Mum ever was.'

Helen rolled her eyes at her husband before turning to Harry and Hermione, her eyebrows still raised. 'So, are we going to continue the proud family tradition?'

'The kebab place in town isn't half bad,' Harry offered, exchanging a look with Hermione. She rolled her eyes in a way that was eerily similar to her mother, and Harry felt a smile come over his face at the familiar and endearing act.

'It really isn't,' Helen agreed, reaching for her mobile. 'What do you all want?'

'The classic,' Hermione replied immediately. 'With salad and sauce, obviously. And chips.'

'That's…quite a lot,' Helen said, raising an eyebrow. 'Are you sure you'd be able to finish that?'

'If it's too much, I'll just give some to Harry.'

'What am I, a pet that you feed?' Harry asked, putting on an insulted look.

Hermione snorted. 'Oh, shut up. If I don't voluntarily share with you, you'll just steal from me. I can't win either way.'

'You steal from me, too,' Harry protested. 'Don't act so innocent.'

'When you two are done flirting,' Helen interrupted just as Hermione was about to retort. 'Could you please order? I've already forgotten your overly specific order.'

Hermione blushed, and Harry shot her a smug smirk, claiming victory, receiving a smack in return. Helen handed her her mobile, and she punched in the number, still pink in the face.

An hour of laughter – and eating like four hungry cavemen – later, Harry was stuffed to the limit thanks to a veritable culinary tsunami of meat, vegetables, sauce, and chips. The four of them, despite having two medical professionals amongst them who probably should have known better, lounged lazily on the sofas in front of the television, watching a movie that Hermione had put on.

It was just like the old times, but also unlike the old times, Harry thought, as he and Hermione took over the big sofa, lying together under their fuzzy blanket, holding one another loosely. Things may be different now than they were even mere weeks ago, but he had one constant in his life, and he would be forever thankful for her.

Despite what he had initially thought and felt, this place still was a home, after all.

It had been two weeks since they had returned, and James found himself in a crowded lecture hall at University College London, bored out of his mind. He heard without listening as the professor spoke on and on, and tried to pay attention despite the monotonous, droning voice of the small, grey-haired woman.

He had somehow gotten lucky and was offered a place at the university, despite applying for admission only weeks before the start of term. A part of him suspected that Minerva or Kingsley had somehow pushed him through way after the application deadline – he had had to go to Hogwarts to get a muggle school record for himself, after all. When he had told Minerva about what he was planning to do and why, she had gushed so much praise for him that even he had begun feeling embarrassed.

It had not been so long since James had left Hogwarts that he had forgotten how to be a student, but his good study habits – habits he only formed in sixth year, to be fair – were already far along the path of decline. As if he could make things any worse for himself this afternoon, he had forgotten to read the assigned textbook pages, and was having trouble following what little of the lecture that he could process as a result. He shuddered at the thought of what Lily's reaction would be to this if she found out that he was neglecting his studies on the second day of classes. It would likely not be pretty at all.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the lecture concluded, and none too soon. James checked his timetable. This had been, thankfully, his last class of the day. He rose from the uncomfortable chair that he had spent the last two hours in and shouldered his bag, joining the wave of students now streaming towards the door.

Groups of students were congregating in the entrance hall, talking amongst themselves about some theatre company that was apparently coming to campus tonight. Even if he had an interest, he could not go. He had to go to Harry and Hermione tonight, and those commitments came before anything else.

The two had both improved in the four weeks since they had started working together. A part of him had feared that things would regress for all of them following their return from Australia, but these last two weeks back home seemed to disprove that fear. Judging by Harry and Hermione's own reports, they were improving. Their nightmares were getting less frequent, and they simply looked better, more at ease, and more relaxed, not just when they were around each other, but when they were not, too.

James pushed open the glass doors and stepped outside onto the main quad, absorbed in his own thoughts. He almost did not hear when someone called his name.

'James!'

He stopped and turned towards where the voice had come from. 'Josh? What're you doing here?'

'To see you, of course. Honour-bound to check in on you after pushing you into whole university thing,' Josh Granger said, walking up to him. James stuck out his hand, and he shook it. 'How have the first few days of classes been?'

'Far harder than I had ever expected,' James replied honestly. 'Puts our seventh year to shame.'

'Tell me about it,' Josh said as they slowly walked towards the main gate. 'Going from preparatory school to university was the biggest shock I had in my life up until that point.'

James snorted as they turned out onto the street. 'I haven't the slightest clue how they expect you to not fall asleep when they're talking in a voice that's literally putting you into a trance.'

'Ah,' Josh chortled knowingly. 'The first-year university experience would never be complete without one of those classes, of course.'

'How they expect us to pass is beyond me,' James muttered.

'Oh, you'll be fine,' Josh assured. 'Just make sure to read your textbooks before class and revise often. You have been doing that, haven't you?'

Jams looked at the other man sheepishly. 'I…uh…I might've forgotten to read last night.'

Josh tsked in amused disapproval. 'Well, I've made that mistake more than a few times when I first started out,' he admitted. 'In secondary, I used to score top marks without putting in any effort. Thought that I could do the same at Edinburgh…it didn't end well. Helen, though…she came in with good habits and adapted so much quicker than I did. She even managed to finish her first year with honours! I'm glad Hermione inherited that aspect of her.'

'I used to have good habits,' James said. 'Lily was the one who hammered them into me. And then I forgot all of them…Lily's going to flay me if she finds out.'

'What would we idiot blokes be without the women in our lives, eh?' Josh jested, James nodding in agreement. 'Want to go for a cup of tea or coffee?'

'I'm free, but don't you have appointments?'

'Not today,' Josh replied, stopping and turning to push open the door to a small coffee house. 'It's a slow day, so Helen's handling it by herself. You're coming tonight, aren't you?'

James nodded. 'Every other night.'

'How are they?' Josh asked, concern coming through in his voice.

'Better,' James answered, honestly glad that he could say that. 'They both seem to be having fewer nightmares…the numerical ranks that they're giving for fear triggers and memories are going down slowly. It'll take more time, but there's progress.'

'They even look better,' Josh agreed as a waiter came over to their table. 'They're coming out of their room more…talking more…their faces look healthier. What do you want, by the way?'

'Just regular coffee, please,' James responded. 'None of the weird stuff for me.'

'Your loss,' Josh said. 'A long espresso, please. And a regular coffee.'

The waiter took down their order and left, and the two men turned back towards each other. 'You're going to continue doing this when they go back to school, right?'

James nodded. 'I'll keep doing it until they think they don't need it anymore. I'll see it through to the end. If, Merlin forbid, things don't get better…I'll find another way…or I'll keep doing it for the rest of my life.'

'They're already improving as it is,' Josh refuted. 'As you said, it will take time, but you also will succeed in the end. You have faith in that, right?'

'I do,' James affirmed.

'Then there's no reason to think about the worst-case scenarios,' Josh concluded. 'You're good at what you're doing already and you're always learning more. Plus, they're making good progress. Think about positive outcomes, not negative ones.'

'Right, positive,' James repeated. 'Things will be fine, right?'

'Things will be fine,' Josh assured. 'Harry and Hermione have gotten so much better already. You can just see it, feel it. There's only going up from here.'

He suddenly leaned forward and clapped James on the shoulder. 'And in three years, you've got the whole magical world to change. In fifty years, witches and wizards will come to remember you as the one who revolutionised medicine in your world. If that's not a thought to be motivated by…'

'I don't care about fame, really,' James replied, surprising even himself. For the longest time, he had wanted to prove himself, be remembered…but in the last few weeks, he had realised once and for all that there were greater things, more important things.

'I just hope that I can help someone,' he continued, far more quietly. 'See someone's life change for the better because of something I did.'

'In time, you will,' Josh said. 'You won't change just one life, you'll change dozens, maybe hundreds. You've already helped three people who would otherwise have had to suffer through everything all on their own, and I can tell you, as one parent to another, you helping my daughter has helped me, too.'

They sipped the rest of their drinks in contemplative silence, James looking out the window and watching the traffic go past. Josh's last statement had been right. The accomplishment and happiness that he felt in his heart was not just a product of his attempts at therapy yielding successful outcomes. It came also from the fact that Harry, Sirius, and Hermione were healthier and happier, that he had played some part in helping them step out from the dark cloud of their pasts.

And as Josh had said, there were many more out there that he could help, more lives he could change. He was only at the start of the road, and there was still a long and fruitful journey ahead.

A/N: Enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.

Important: James knows about as much as I know about PTSD and how to treat it (possibly at this point, a little more). He is not supposed to be a perfect therapist or even a good one. He is someone who is trying his best to help a friend in a world with no conception of mental health (remember that 'mind healers' are purely fanon) and where going to a muggle psychologist is completely out of the question for obvious reasons of Statute of Secrecy and believability.

If you or someone you know is suffering from PTSD or any mental health condition, please do not take this story as a guide or even a suggestion on how to treat it! Unlike the wizarding world, in the regular world, there are resources available that can help you. Please take care, especially during these recent times.