Both men moved wordlessly into a tight embrace.

"I didn't know who else to turn to," Ron whispered as he clung to Harry, who held onto his friend and firmly patted his back. When they pulled apart, Harry noticed his plump red and swollen eyes. He turned his attention to the body laid out on the bed.

"What happened?" Harry whispered.

Ron's head sank, he blinked as though trying to organise his thoughts.

Ginny laid on the bed, her fiery red hair neatly braided to one side. Her eyes were closed, her lips sealed tight and her body held stiff as though frozen in shock. Harry almost reached out to her but withheld himself. He turned to Ron expectantly.

"Is she petrified?" If there was a basilisk on the loose again, so help it, he'd-

Ron shook his head.

'Hurry up!' his mind shouted but his lips stuck to the top on his mouth.

"She was attacked, one of three cases in the hospital." Ron spoke solemnly and sunk into the seat beside her. He cradled his head in his hands. "They don't know what curse was used, they're still trying to figure it out. Imagine if mom and dad knew-"

Harry recalled the article Hermione had read aloud. His hands reached to cradle his face against the rising throbbing sensation at the base of his neck. He was stopped when Ron abruptly grabbed him by the elbow.

Ron looked up at Harry sharply, "You can't tell them. Not a soul."

"Of course not," Harry replied softly. His eyes shifted to Ginny, in spite of the rigidity, she looked so peaceful. He wanted her to wake that instant. His chest twinged at the memory of her tear stained cheeks and her sad smile. The way the fire burned in her eyes. "Last time, I swear." He bit into his jaw.

"What are the others doing about it?"

Ron was silent though he raised his head to look at Harry. Harry was sure his eyes burned with an emerald fury, either righteous or vengeful or both.

"We have a suspect."

'Well?' He almost demanded but his throat clamped shut. It was not his place to dig for information, he reminded himself. It was auror business, and he was no auror.

Instead, Harry gingerly reached his fingertips to touch her hand. She was warm and for some reason, he was comforted by that. He gently wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed slightly. The irrational part of his mind expected her to squeeze back. He was grateful for her warmth. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Maximilian Kite."

In that instant he felt as though a bucket of icy water had been thrown over him. Harry choked. His hold on Ginny's hand weakened.

"What?" He stared expectantly at Ron.

Ron averted his gaze though his eyes burned furiously.

"The ministry has been keeping it under wraps for a while. I know I shouldn't be telling you this but-" Ron groaned and rubbed his temples "Kite never made it to Azkaban. He escaped almost immediately after his trial."

Harry heard the echo of maniacal laughter in the back of his mind.

His free hand wrapped around his lips and the base of his jaw. A dozen questions ran though his mind. How could he have escaped? He was, at any given moment, accompanied by aurors. Was there a mole?

"We're doing all that we can, but the slippery bastard isn't showing himself-" Ron ground his teeth. Harry sighed deeply. His mind raced with possibilities. He'd found Max once before, it wouldn't be much effort to-

"No," he reminded himself and gently settled Ginny's hand on the bed.

No…

"Don't tell me any more." He said to Ron.

"We need you, Harry," he looked at Ginny and then to him exhaustedly, "I need you, mate."

"I can't." Harry turned away. "I'm not an auror any more."

It was true, he wasn't an auror any longer. He was a professor and had no business with the dealings of the ministry. He had wanted- needed- the distance. Ron harshly grabbed him by the sleeve.

"I don't need an auror, I need my best friend." Ron searched his eyes with a ferocity he had not seen in ages. Harry felt his tongue stick to the top of his mouth.

"I'll keep an eye out," He breathed, "I swear…"

Ron watched him carefully as though double checking his words and then relaxed. He released Harry from his vice grip.

'Good enough.' his eyes seemed to convey. Ron offered one last wistful look at Ginny before he stood up. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I've got to get to the office." He spoke and walked towards the exit. Harry's eyes followed him as the door swung open. He watched as a body flung itself into Ron's chest. Long dark hair swayed as small arms wrapped around his friends body. Harry tilted his head to get a closer look but the door swung shut with a click. He eyes narrowed curiously.

He turned his attention to Ginny, suddenly conscious of the way his fingertips stroked her hand. He stopped. The part of him that wanted to hold her to him was desperately held back by the part of him that remembered that their relationship was no longer what it once was. And so he drew the sheets over her body snugly.

In spite of himself, he pressed a tender kiss to the top of her brow.

…

Harry had slotted a letter into his coat pocket, he intended to have it delivered to Bill Weasley to organise a suitable time to tutor the seventh years on poltergeists. He was on break duty that day and so he gathered a few test papers to mark while he walked around the castle.

While wandering the fields, he prevented a few jinxes from meeting their unsuspecting targets. He ignored the bemoans that echoed and kept his eyes on his pages as he walked past students who began accusing one another of sabotage. He greeted a few students and signed a few pages for others who were 'big fans'. He bit into his chocolate bar while treading down the flight of stairs leading away from the library. He absently greeted some ghosts.

His mind registered a shadow slumped against the stair railing, he assumed it was another ghost and would've walked past the form when he noticed the dark hair.

"Mr Fantis?" Harry tilted his head. The lump twitched.

"Hello Professor," the boy looked up and offered a small smile and wave. He still looked abominably ill (perhaps it was his natural disposition) though his blue eyes shone a little more brightly. In his lap, he seemed to be growing flowers. They were vibrant and beautiful.

Harry smiled thinly. He hadn't compelled Marcus to participate in their following lesson, instead, Marcus took to wandering the corners of the class while everyone else had a turn. Either no one seemed to notice him or they purposefully ignored him. From what Harry could tell, the boy was a loner. Not the strange variety, but simply a wanderer who couldn't find a group of his own. The boy almost reminded him of Luna. Harry folded the papers under his arm and sat a step above him, careful not to step on the boys oversized robe.

"Those are beautiful." Harry complimented and pointed at the flowers.

"Thanks," he replied and they grew another inch. "They're gladiolus."

Harry bit into the chocolate bar in his hand. His mind created scenarios where he would prompt the boy to a conversation about the boggart incident and they would have a heartfelt discussion about his fear. Instead his throat caught at every attempt.

"You know-"

"Professor-"

They paused to look at the other.

"You first-" They uttered.

"No you-"

"Fine." They shrugged.

They waited in silence. Harry licked his lips and took a tiny bite of chocolate.

"Marcus," he breathed, "You want to know what my biggest fear was when I was your age?"

Marcus looked up at him with a tilted head. He blinked rapidly.

"Dementors." Harry scoffed, at the memory. "You don't see them too often these days. Horrible creatures, they suck the joy out of everything."

He nibbled his chocolate, perhaps out of instinct. "I had a Professor once, he taught me how to conquer my fear of dementors. It was hard at first, terrifying in fact. I think I may have passed out once or twice." Harry laughed.

"But in the end, I did it. Not because I had a natural affinity for it but because I had people to rely on and to turn to for guidance," Harry met Marcus' gaze. "Or help."

Marcus turned away from him, instead choosing to focus on the flowers sprouting from his drawn knees.

Harry lips formed a thin line and he registered that the conversation was over. He pulled the papers from under his arm and drew a deep breath as he rose to his feet and dusted his coat.

"If you ever wish to talk, Marcus. I'm here."

…

Harry clicked open the door to room 403. He stumbled in surprise when he found Hermione fixing flowers at Ginny's side. She continued to gently adjust the flowers as though she hadn't registered his presence until he clicked the door shut behind him.

Her hands stilled on her work. She looked up at him.

"Harry." She offered him a sad smile. He returned her look with a tight lipped smile. She approached him and stretched her arms around him in a firm hug. His face was buried under her hair as her cheek pressed warmly against his cheek and the base of his jaw. He waited a few seconds before he relaxed against her and wrapped an arm around her in turn. He gave a small squeeze.

When they pulled apart, he approached the empty seat beside Ginny. She was as unchanged as he had last seen her.

Hermione quietly stayed behind him. He thought she had made a sound and would've turned to her, when he felt a hand softly press on his shoulder.

She offered him a reassuring squeeze. He pressed his eyelids tightly at her touch. An uncanny burning sensation stung his eyes and throat.

When her hand began to slide from his shoulder, he heard the soft tapping of her heels as she pulled backwards with the intention to leave them alone.

The sound came to an abrupt pause when he grabbed the last of her hand, narrowly missing her. He didn't know why he held on to her or where the impulse had come from, nor did he think it was worth delving into. He simply needed a friend with him. More than that, he needed someone to ground him.

He felt Hermione's eyes on him. He was sure a thousand questions were on her mind, though none left her lips. Instead, she relaxed and her hand found his.

He dared to look up at her. She looked down at him.

'I'm here, if you need me,' Her eyes glistened as she smiled softly and briefly squeezed his hand. It was a kind and reassuring gesture which he responded to with a thin smile. His hand reflexively wrapped around hers.

They stayed that way for a while or however long it had taken Harry to fall asleep at Ginny's side. When he woke, the sun had begun its descent. He smelled strongly of fresh pages and honeysuckle. It was a familiar scent and yet stronger than he ever recalled it. He groggily sat upright and the coat, which had been draped over his shoulders, fell behind him. His hand had been bunched around the sheets beside Ginny's hand. Their fingertips were mere inches apart.

When Harry returned to his quarters, he settled the mauve coat on his couch. He made a mental note to return it to Hermione.

He walked to the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of coffee. He tiredly began rummaging his cupboards when his eyes fell on something at the table.

His newly purchased journal.

He slowly shut the cupboard as he approached the book. He absent-mindedly flipped through the empty pages. A part of him questioned the point of the exercise. Another part of him condemned himself for even thinking about it. A tiny whisper encouraged him.

He listened to the better part of him and tossed the journal a small distance from him. 'What's the point?'

Surprisingly, a quilt had found its way into his hand and words began to form over the pages. He wrote the beginnings of the tale his lips refused to utter. Harry took a deep breath in spite of the headache forming in his temple.

Dark ink slide gracelessly across the sheet:

'Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived…'

When he was finished he settled his quilt beside the journal and collapsed in an exhausted heap on the couch. He dreamt of a library covered in flowers.