Around Midnight, Allison Cameron was making her way downstairs for some water before heading to bed. The MRI had shown that the patient did have encephalitis; House, upon hearing his new puzzle piece, had postponed his game of Chess and spent the next forty minutes debating with his Fellows what Virus was causing Harry's symptoms, which symptoms were caused by the encephalitis itself, and which symptoms were totally unrelated (House still believed that something had put Harry's immune system in the tank). Exhausted from the day's events and from the tests carried out that evening, Cameron stopped in her tracks for a moment and put a hand to her head. She vaguely wondered whether Foreman and Chase were already in bed, and whether House had ever returned downstairs (she had no clue if "game night" was still going on).

Slowly, muffled voices reached her ears from Harry's room.

"…retrieved the Horcrux, at least…."

"Ginny…could have died…."

Cameron closed her eyes sadly and moved closer to the door, unsure of why exactly she was listening on to a conversation between two teenagers.

"Harry, even if you were well, we still would've been there with you. I don't know why you can't understand that we're your friends."

"I know, Ginny. And I love you—all of you—so much. You're my family. I just wish that—none of this is real…I might die of this sickness before I even get to face Voldemort—someone else must be able to do it…."

"I thought that you talked about this with Dumbledore. The prophecy could have been about anyone—what you've done has made it about you. And you're not going to die, Harry Potter."

"You don't know that. You guys gave the teacup to Lupin?"

"Yes. And I don't have to know, Harry—I have to believe. I don't know you aren't going to—to die…." Ginny was crying now. "But I know that if you die, my soul will die. You've been my life…I was in love with you before I met you."

"Ginny—"

"And I know that you're too damn noble for your own good, and I know that you are the bravest person I've ever met."

"Dumbledore—"

"Had his time. But we're in this without him, now. Harry, you're not alone!"

"You guys need to be more careful. At least—we're almost done with the Horcruxes."

"Yeah."

"He knows I'm sick."

"Harry, are you sure?"

"Yes. Ginny…he's after you guys. He wants to know exactly what's the matter with me—his Death Eaters are out for blood. I'll bet anything that tomorrow the Daily Prophet will have an article quoting one of Malfoy's cronies about a "Weasley-Weasley-Granger" sighting."

Ginny sighed. "You're probably right…like always. Why is the Order having such a terrible time with recruitment this time around?"

"For one, Dumbledore's gone," replied Harry. "Second, the leader is incapacitated…we don't know who to trust—"

"That's not true, Harry. You're afraid to trust anyone right now, and everyone else wants to follow your trust, the way they followed Dumbledore's."

"You're kidding," said Harry dryly.

"No. I'm not. You might want to start a perspective list of people you know and trust." There was a momentary pause before Ginny continued, "Harry, I know you want to trust people—it's what makes you and Dumbledore different than Tom Riddle. Open up your heart."

"People—lie—Marietta…Peter Pettigrew—" Harry coughed loudly.

Ginny sighed. "Let's talk about something else for a little while. God, I'm sick of this war," she whispered loudly, causing Harry to laugh bitterly. "So do you think you're almost done with the spell for your Animagus transformation?"

"Well I haven't exactly been able to practice much," said Harry defensively. "And you all?"

"I think I'm some type of cat or dog. Not sure though…Ron's is weird, we don't really know…and we think Hermione's definitely a cat, but a regular one, not an exotic species."

"Doesn't surprise me. You'll be a cute cat. Ginny—if I don't make it—no, listen…I want you to promise me that you won't let the Order give up."

"The Order's not going to—"

"Promise me, Gin. I want you to live your life…but a life under Voldemort—is it worth it?"

"I'd die first."

"Be careful."

"I love you, Harry…nothing could stop that…even if one of us doesn't make it, I could never stop loving you…."

Suddenly someone tapped Cameron on the shoulder. She spun around defensively, scrambling to wipe the tears pouring down her face.

"House—I—"

"Eavesdropping?" he asked in a low whisper.

"No—I mean, yes—I mean—please leave me alone," she pleaded, looking up into his eyes. She was vaguely aware of the sudden smallness of the hallway, and of the tear-stains on her face.

"Come here," whispered House. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the new Diagnostics Conferencing room, pulling her over to the couch and sitting her down while he turned on the coffee machine—a final, but ultimately necessary, addition to the medical equipment.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. "Attached to another patient?"

"No," said Cameron, regaining her composure. "I'm probably still feeling a little bit off from my sickness…."

"No, you're not. I've seen you sick—right now you're angry." Cameron looked at House piercingly.

"I'm not angry. That's ridiculous."

"I heard part of the conversation they were having, too, Cameron…you're angry at yourself. But why would you be angry?"

"I already told you that I'm not angry, House. I'm just tired. Drop it."

"They seem to have a really strong relationship, no?"

Cameron glanced at House suspiciously. "Since when have you been able to diagnose a 'strong relationship'?"

"Well this is the first one I've seen in a long time. It's probably because they do magic," he shrugged sarcastically. "So are you angry at the patient, the patient's girlfriend, or yourself?"

"House," she said threateningly.

"Definitely yourself." Cameron's eyes flashed, and House stared at her thoughtfully. "But why? Because of your marriage? Because you couldn't love your dying husband as much as that girl loves her dying boyfriend?"

"Wilson told you," said Cameron, her voice toneless.

"No, you just told me."

"You're a jerk, House. And I don't care what you think about me, or about relationships—"

"I'm sorry." Cameron jerked her head up in disbelief. "I think," he continued, "that most relationships…aren't like that. Love—is an idea. Falling out of love, on the other hand, is a mindset. When people start to doubt their ideals—the work of their imaginations—when the idea isn't strong enough, or when it doesn't create the right feeling, people push. Push away other people, and feed on other things than their idea of love—they feed on despair; on the past; the future—on need." House handed Cameron a hot mug of coffee. She took it, her eyes wide and her face blank. After a minute or two's reflection, she turned back to House.

"That's not true, and you know it isn't true. When people fall out of love, they feed on hopes for the future, and on regret—and on reasons. People want to have an answer for everything, and they don't want to accept that something as abstract as emotion can turn their entire lives around…so they run away from love, saying that love doesn't exist."

"I never said love didn't exist."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Cameron angrily, "I forgot about your perfect relationship with Stacy…."

"So now this is about me?" demanded House.

"You don't want to be happy."

"And you think that you would make me happy."

Outside of the room, Tonks had been listening silently for several minutes. She watched the two doctors, surprised at the way they were talking to each other. She watched Cameron stand up.

"I don't care, because you wouldn't—make me happy," she said in a low voice. "You play with me, manipulate me…."

"You're lying," said House, taking a step closer to her and holding onto her arms. Cameron shut her eyes wearily and stood as House pulled her towards him.

"I hate you," she whispered, finally caving in and meeting his eyes. House held her for a moment before smirking and stepping away.

"I'm not going to change," he said seriously.

"Right. Because there's absolutely no reason for a drug-addicted, miserable, self-deprecating bastard to want to be happy," replied Cameron venomously.

Suddenly, a loud crash came from the hallway. Cameron and House looked at each other for a moment before running outside to see what happened.

"Sorry!" greeted Tonks, scrambling up. "I was walking by, and I tripped. So clumsy—"

"Are you okay?" asked Cameron kindly as she held back tears.

"I'm fine," said Tonks, forcing out a laugh. "Just fine. Well, I'm headed downstairs to say goodnight to everyone… see you guys in the morning."

"Are Chase and Foreman still downstairs?" asked House.

"I think so. They were twenty minutes ago, anyway."

"I'll go with you. I need to ask them about a test."

"Right," answered Tonks. "Night, Doctor Cameron."

"Good-night," she replied, smiling thinly. "House," she nodded before turning around and heading to her room. When she was out of sight, House and Tonks started down the hallway towards the stairs.

"She seems a bit—upset tonight," said Tonks casually, looking up at the doctor.

"Nothing new," sighed House.

Tonks frowned. "Do you…care about her?"

"Care?" repeated House blankly. "She's my employee. So, yes, I care that she is competent for work every morning."

"She seems to—you know…have feelings for you..." she continued carefully.

House rolled her eyes. "She has 'feelings' for every pitiful person she encounters. I only wish I could say that I was 'special'," he added sarcastically.

"You know, it isn't easy being in love with somebody who won't have you," said Tonks angrily. "Give her a bit of sympathy, at least. You remind me of my husband last year—only at least he tried to be nice about it."

"Who? Lupin?" scoffed House. "Why'd he push you away? I mean, you're young…interesting…."

"Cameron's young and pretty," frowned Tonks. "What's wrong with her?"

"Cameron has a—saving-people complex."

"Well, she is a doctor," replied Tonks, confused.

"So does Harry," said a voice behind them. House and Tonks turned around to see Ginny.

"I thought you were talking to Harry," said Tonks. "How long've you been behind us?"

"Just a minute," smiled Ginny. "You're walking rather slowly. Anyway, Harry reckoned I should try and get in on the Twister game. Apparently, Ron's actually winning, and Harry bet that I'd win. Foreman bet on Ron, and Chase bet on Fred."

"Are only Weasleys left in the game?" laughed Tonks.

"No," said Ginny. "Kingsley and Hestia are playing. Your Mum and Dad were, too, but they fell pretty quickly." Tonks grinned, sighing.

"Good old Mum and Dad…. Hermione not playing?"

"No, she was watching. But I think she wanted to talk with Harry once I was finished." Ginny then glanced at House, as if waiting to see if he had anything to say about the patient. Of course, he didn't, and they reached the bottom of the stairs in time to see Ron wipe out when asked to put his left foot on a red square.

The next morning, an ocean away from 12 Grimmauld Place, Lisa Cuddy collapsed into a seat behind her desk, exhausted. The time change had caused her to arrive at her hospital at 1:30 in the morning, and she had now been dealing with the flu outbreak for twelve sleepless hours. She had barely been able to sit down when there came a knock at the door.

"Come in," she called irritably. The door opened, and James Wilson entered.

"You okay?" he asked sympathetically.

"Just great. I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours. And I've had to deal with House for about half of that time, and with crazy parents and worried senior citizens and proactive, politicking city council members for the other half." Wilson cringed and took a seat.

"I see that you haven't dragged House back to the States," he said casually.

"If you want to know what House is up to, just ask me directly," snapped Cuddy.

"All right… what is House up to? What kind of case is it?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," sighed Cuddy, sounding extremely distressed.

"Try me," pushed Wilson.

"All right. But don't bother asking again if you don't believe me." She took a deep breath. "He's helping cure—a Wizard, in Britain. The wizard who is prophesized to defeat this evil wizard who is killing and torturing people, probably at this very moment. They're staying in a house with the kid and about ten other Wizards and Witches who are all helping to fight against the 'dark side.'" Wilson rolled his eyes.

"If you can't tell me, just say so…" he muttered, annoyed. He looked back up to her as she shook her head and started shuffling through paperwork. Suddenly, Wilson remembered the night he had played poker with Cuddy, and House's voice filtered through his head. Wilson looked back at Cuddy. If House had been right that time, then she wasn't bluffing….

"Oh my god," he said unbelievingly. "You're serious?"

"Yeah," she said in a voice that hinted she didn't really believe herself.

"Can I go look?" he asked curiously, wondering how on earth House, Cameron, Chase, Foreman, and Cuddy had all managed to be hoodwinked.

"Arrange it with House. And there better not be an outbreak of some new, contagious Cancer while you're gone, Wilson." Suddenly, the doctors both looked up as a knock sounded on the door.

"What is it?" called Cuddy. The door opened and an intern came in.

"Um… I'm supposed to give this to you," she said to Cuddy, handing her a file.

"Um… is that all?" mocked Cuddy sarcastically.

"It's, like, this case that they're having a hard time diagnosing. They want to see if Doctor—House would take it."

"Like, thanks a lot," said Cuddy pointedly. The intern raised her eyebrows and fled the room.

"Kids these days," remarked Wilson, smiling.

"Well, if you go to England, make sure you tell me, make sure you are back in twenty-four hours or less, and make sure you give House this file," said Cuddy tersely, handing it to Wilson.

"Right." With that, Wilson smiled and backed out of the room.

A/N: Hey, sorry that the chapter's shorter than usual. I wanted to thank everyone so much for the reviews and support this story's getting! I really appreciate it. Please keep reviewing! Thanks: )