"There's no better way for a woman to punish a man than to make him sleep away from her."

~ Steven Ramirez


Chapter 41 ~ Quarantine


ECOTS


Harry approached the hospital wing like a convicted man approaching his execution.

He was still pissed. Whether Hermione or Ron realized or not, he had good reason to be pissed. Kaylens had hugged a Death Eater.

He hadn't meant for her to think he'd dumped her though.

And he hadn't known she was sick. She'd looked fine, minus numerous injuries and raggedy hair, when they'd portkeyed separately back to Hogwarts from Remus' house. There was also her clearly messed up leg and ankle, and-

Okay maybe she hadn't looked fine.

He stopped outside the hospital wing door, his stomach flipping. She'd been right to tell him to stay away from her if she'd been sick. She'd known she'd contracted it.

He still wanted to pummel Thomas.

Opening the door he paused in the entryway, awkwardly. The Quarantine unit was set up all the way at the back of the hospital wing, but he could still see through the charmed plastic barrier. Amarante appeared to be unconscious, Tres and Regulus discussing something near his bedside, potion supplies stacked precariously in the far corner.

Ginny was playing a game of exploding snap with her brothers, Fred still in a hospital bed, and the dark haired girl that Harry didn't know. The Muggle was looking at the game with an expression of the utmost concentration, right until one of the trinkets burst, covering her in a thick goop.

The girl's expression didn't so much as flinch, but her inquiry came out with a frightening degree of seriousness, "Now can I shoot it?"

George actually backpedaled, Fred frantically trying to grab at his brother in mock fear. "Don't leave me!"

Ginny and the Muggle turned identical glares on them.

Every single one of them was in comfortable looking pajamas, and it was the middle of the day.

Not far off Neville and Dean sat on Kally's bed with her.

Kaylens was sitting upright, cross legged, her back against the metal bed frame, a tired smile on her face at whatever Neville was miming. For a moment Harry just watched her, his chest squirming.

Someone had regrown her hair, the tips no longer jagged or burnt. The bruising on the side of her face was gone, as were the torn clothes and the blood.

She was impossibly pale thought. And her leg…

Her leg still had thick bandages on it, Harry finding that bothered him. It bothered him a lot.

It was Dean who caught sight of him first, the wizard's expression darkening for a second, a shadow passing through his eyes.

A second later the wizard forced a grin – probably for Neville's sake – and elbowed Kaylens, pointing. "Think ya have a visitor." Harry managed to hear him just like he'd heard everyone else, even from across the cavernous wing, the thing built to carry sound.

Harry kept a seriously dark look on Dean for a bit longer than necessary, before glancing towards Kaylens. He hadn't moved, but neither had she. Instead her brow was furrowing, creasing as if thinking something over.

It looked like she rather wanted to stay where she was.

He seriously considered letting her, but his feet decided to ignore the warnings his head was shouting. If he walked out of here with all four limbs still attached and was still breathing, he'd consider it a win. If the opposite didn't apply to Dean, then it'd definitely be a win.

Somehow Harry found himself walking into the hospital wing, stopping to stand on one side of the barrier, waiting. It ought to be obvious who he was waiting for.

Kaylens still hadn't moved, her eyes flickering shrewdly over him, as if she hadn't quite decided how mad she was.

It took Dean Thomas, the Death Eater, nudging her with his elbow yet again for her to actually react, but not before she shot Dean a glare filled with such familiarity that Harry found himself once again fantasizing about ways to creatively rearrange Dean's bones. Or internal organs. Or both.

Part-way through his fantasy about turning Dean into the merpeople's personal trident pincushion, Kaylens slid off the hospital bed, wincing. Harry didn't miss her slight limp, the Seeker shifting on his feet uncomfortably as the non-witch got there, coming to a halt on the opposing side of the plastic-like barrier.

There they were, face-to-face, but quite literally unable to touch. Harry swallowed, and Kaylens didn't say a solitary word. Instead she just inclined a golden eyebrow at him, waiting, her expression unreadable.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, debating the merits of running. He'd seen her improvise weapons in the past, and could only imagine what sharp tools she could find in the hospital wing. Scalpels, IVs needles, bedpans…

She didn't make any violent moves though. Instead she just stood there, patiently waiting, a solitary eyebrow inclined as if torn between amusement and annoyance.

Harry grimaced, offering a mumbled, "Hey."

If possible her eyebrow rose higher. "Hey?"

Great, that was a dangerous sounding hey.

Harry's brow furrowed deeply, his gaze slowly running over her, searching for signs of injury, illness. A bandage peeked out from beneath her fleece, covering her shoulder, another one on her wrist.

They were clearly covering the disease's boils.

It made his stomach lurch, the confirmation that she'd been ill not one he liked. The rest of her though…the rest of her skin looked fine, Harry seizing onto that as he nodded. "Yeah, hey."

Kalliandra's mouth opened, as if thinking of saying something, only for her lips to close a moment later.

It was a long, long moment before she said something, Harry at an utter loss of where to start. He couldn't just reach for her, touch her like he wanted. There was a Quarantine barrier in the way, which basically removed his best move when it came to dealing with an angered Kaylens.

He was going to have to talk his way out of this one.

He was entirely screwed.

"So you are okay." Kaylens' finally, quietly voiced, breaking into his thoughts, her golden gaze flickering up and down along him, as if assessing him.

Harry was oddly only capable of nodding. "Yeah," he ground. "Yeah, I'm good."

The second he'd said it he instantly regretted it. Abruptly Kalliandra had drawn her lower lip between her teeth, gnawing on it contemplatively, as if not sure what to make of that.

Finally she shook her head, golden hair cascading over her shoulders in waves. "I'm glad, but…" trailing off, she shook her head again. "Potter, where have you been?"

She didn't sound mad, yet; she sounded like she hadn't quite decided.

Tilting her head back towards where the other quarantined occupants were at, Kaylens casually added, "Ginny and them, they were wondering. Not me." A tentative, almost hopeful smile teased at her lips, Harry unable to yank his gaze away.

When he finally did he managed to raise a challenging eyebrow of his own, "Oh?" his voice sounded rougher than normal. "That so?"

Kalliandra's eyes flickered, lips curving further. "Yeah, Potter, that's so." It was clear he was only getting those five syllables out of her, nothing more.

How in the hell was he supposed to explain where he'd been? Oh, just fine. Pissed at you and brooding up in my dorm? Harry heaved a hard breath, hands clenching inside his pockets as he tried to think of a reasonable way to make that sound okay.

He was quiet for so long that eventually the slight smile slipped from Kaylens' countenance, something startling similar to upset flickering within her gaze.

Harry met it with his own, just looking at her in silence, his brow furrowing deeply. She was alive. That meant something.

Still he didn't speak.

Inevitably she shook her head, sighing. The upset that momentarily had been there had vanished, something hard entering her eyes, her tone. "It was good seeing you, Potter," she murmured.

And with that she turned to leave, Harry actually feeling a stab of panic. "Wait!"

Harry was fairly horrified to realize he'd sounded less panicked when facing down Death Eaters only months prior.

Kaylens must have realized it too, judging by the way she froze, looking almost deflated. No longer facing him, Harry watched her entire form stiffen before the non-witch glanced back at him, peering over her shoulder. Her brow furrowed heavily, as if seriously considering what she was doing. "So…you haven't gone mute," she murmured, almost to herself.

Harry grimaced, managing to grunt, "No. Just wait."

"Why?" she sounded genuinely curious.

Well hell.

Harry was more than aware that the other occupants in the room were listening in, Fred and George not even bothering to try to pretend that they weren't, a galleon exchanged, the Muggle girl looking on and tossing a Muggle bill in. Ginny just made an apologetic gesture to him from behind Kaylens, indicating that her brothers were morons.

Dean just observed them silently, a slightly threatening look in his eyes, Neville doing his best to pretend he wasn't eavesdropping.

Even Regulus Black was eyeing the two of them with an unreadable expression, looking somewhat annoyed.

Harry gulped, refocusing his attention back on Kaylens. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, did you now?" she sounded unamused. "Having trouble then?"

"Look," he muttered, still shifting uncomfortably, "I…" It was his turn to trail off, gaze looking her over once more. Standing there in the stark hospital wing, Kaylens behind a Quarantine shield, it all seemed suddenly stupid. He was still angry, but worry for her held it at bay. "Are you okay?"

A slightly broken laugh escaped her, the non-witch turning back to actually face him. "I'll be fine, Potter. Obviously nothing for you to be concerned about." Wetting her lips, she murmured less cuttingly, "Are you okay? We haven't…you never came by."

Internally he swore very dark things, but took a deep breath all the same. "I did," he bitterly muttered, unable to stop himself. "But it looked like Dean had you well taken care of, so…"

A dumbfounded look overtook her expression. "Come again?"

"Dean," he repeated, some of the jealousy from the past few days rising up and rearing its ugly head. Shrugging, he roughly ground, "You looked cozy. Didn't want to disturb you."

He wasn't sure what he'd expected: an abject denial, perhaps? An explanation? Instead Kalliandra's mouth fell open, a startled sound made. "Wait," she said, realization seeming to dawn on her, "are you mad at me? That's why you didn't come by?"

"Catching on are you?" Harry said nothing else, he just felt muscles he'd forgotten existed tensing throughout his entire body, his green gaze remaining locked upon hers.

In the background he could hear Fred abruptly coughing something that sounded suspiciously like RETREAT!

George's was far less disguised, the wizard groaning, "Oh no, Harry. Nooo."

Even Regulus Black winced.

Harry didn't need their warning to see the irritation flashing in her normally crystalline eyes. "Seriously? Wow. That's…that's bold, Potter."

"I thought you were dead, Kaylens," he countered.

Now she actually sputtered. "So you're mad that I'm not?"

"No," he whispered forcefully, trying to keep his voice down. "But the second I found out you weren't you told me to stay away from you, then hugged a-" he cut himself off, Kally's expression changing, understanding his meaning. She'd hugged a Death Eater.

He still saw every centimeter of her stiffen. "I hugged Dean, Harry. My friend."

Harry's gaze turned from her to Thomas, finding his dorm mate utterly gaping at him. "You know exactly," Harry muttered, speaking to Kaylens but not looking at her, "why that's a problem."

When he turned his attention back to her something was very clearly wrong. Hurt flashed in her eyes, her lips drawing into a firm, tight line. "So, you were so mad over that, that you didn't bother to come see if any of us were okay?"

"I did," he said staidly, "but like I said, you and Dean looked cozy."

Kaylens sucked in an incredibly upset sounding breath. "I see."

"Do you?" he questioned, tilting his head as if curious. "If you really wanted to talk to me you easily could have-"

"Could have what?" she cut him off before he could even finish. Suddenly the calm girl before him had hurt infiltrating her voice. "Have owled you? I don't have an owl. Sent a message? I'm not a witch, Potter." Seeing his mouth open, already anticipating his next argument, she gestured back at the others, not bothering to keep her voice down, "Asked one of them to send for you? How pathetic would that have been? I shouldn't have had to ask you to come see me. Silly me I assumed you'd have wanted to."

With that Kaylens drug a hand through her long, sleek hair, it for once not even remotely tangled from his hands, and abruptly closed her eyes.

Harry was well aware that he was being an ass. What she said dug at him, but he wasn't done being mad yet.

Apparently she was though, her eyes flickering back open, fixing upon him seriously. "You know, Potter. It was only a few days. It wasn't like I was seriously ill, or anything. Don't worry about it." The actual words ought to have been relieving, but instead…

The sarcasm within her intonations was heavy. Harry could practically hear her walls coming back up, ones that had taken months to break down.

A quiet laugh shook the silence, "It was stupid of me to think that you'd…just because we…" Kaylens stopped abruptly, her eyes practically burning.

The way she'd been unable to finish her sentences dug at him.

Then her feet moved, ever-so-slightly, Kalliandra beginning to back away. "Nice seeing you, Potter." The words sounded deadened, numb, her eyes conflictedly roaming over him for a moment. "I'm glad you're okay. I was at least worried you weren't."

Then she spun on her heel, hair flying, and as she did…

Harry caught a glimpse of the blackened skin across the back of her neck for the first time, bandages not covering everything, it disappearing as her hair dropped back down to cover it.

What the hell was wrong with him?

"Kaylens."

Harry said her name damn clearly, but the non-witch ignored him. She was not four meters away, but determinedly dropped back onto the bed alongside Dean and Neville, snatching up a deck of wizarding cards and dealing as if he were invisible. "Kaylens, come on," he muttered, only for her eyes to run anywhere but to him.

Harry was an ass, a complete and utter ass.

Hell, ass didn't even cover it. Harry didn't know what he was. What he did know was that he'd been out of line, and then just hurt her more.

Even George was shooting him a disgruntled look. "What was that, Harry? Thought you'd gotten better with chicks," he muttered loudly enough for him to hear, shoving over a clinking bag of galleons to Fred.

The latter twin snagged his winnings and jangled them at him, calling, "Thanks, Harry! Though gotta give you some lessons once we're out of here on girls, mate."

Harry groaned, Kalliandra glared, and Neville shot him a sympathetic look.

Kaylens rewarded that look by throwing the deck of cards at his head, Neville yelping.

Harry just stared, unable to articulate anything even remotely helpful.

Apparently he stood there a second too long, for Dean Thomas was suddenly on his feet, stalking determinedly towards the barrier, a flick of his wand sending the curtains flying around the bed where Kaylens and Neville were, blocking them from view. Harry actually scowled.

Thomas' dark eyes held nothing humored anymore, Harry's gaze drilling coldly back.

"Thomas," he stated darkly.

"Potter," he responded equally bluntly.

"Oh we're going into overtime!" Fred chortled, looking delighted. George pumped an instigating fist. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Another flick of Dean's wand sent the curtains flying around Fred's bed so fast that they smacked Fred in the face. The loud protest was ignored, the twins, Ginny and the Muggle girl now all cut off from view.

The next spell was a privacy charm, the bubble enveloping around Dean and Harry, breaching even the Quarantine barrier but not puncturing it. The steady buzz of Dean's magical signature hummed in Harry's ears, the sound impossibly annoying.

"Charms need work, Thomas," he criticized. "Whatever will ole Riddle think when he finds out you can't even do that correctly?"

Dean Thomas stiffened, looking like he wanted to lash out and deck him. His jaw set firmly, moving through several angry arrays, before he stiffly said something Harry sure as hell hadn't expected.

"You better," he threatened lowly, "fix this." The backwards gesture he made towards where Kaylens had disappeared made it damn obvious what he meant.

Harry's gaze just narrowed. "Why exactly were you in bed with her, Dean? Trying to shove a knife through her back when she wasn't looking?"

Dean's gaze darkened instantly. "Whatever problems you have with me, and I'm not contesting those, Potter, I've done a hell of a lot wrong lately, but do not take them out on her."

"Who said I was?" he bit.

Thomas just flat out balked. "Seriously? You just stood here and told her that you didn't visit her when she was sick because her and I looked cozy. Are you honestly just that bad with women, Potter, or just that dense?"

Harry felt like something was about to hammer out of his chest. "You're a Death Eater, Thomas."

Dean didn't so much as even blink. "Tell me something I don't know."

The growl he emitted was downright rabid, Harry trying to lunge for the bastard but getting stopped by the unbreachable Quarantine spell.

His dorm mate just snorted outright at him, jabbing a fist towards Harry's nose. "Fix this with Kaylens, Potter, or so help me as soon as I get out of here-"

"What the hell is she to you, Dean? Huh?" Harry ground tersely. "Just another toy Voldemort wants to use up and kill? Bet you reckoned you could advance through the ranks if you brought him that."

If he'd bashed Dean in the face with a beater's bat the bastard might have looked less stunned. "She's my friend," he croaked brusquely, "from day one. Unlike you, who spent months being an ass to her." Stopping, he bitterly threw, "Kind of like now."

Harry went to snarl something else, only to abruptly stop. His expression was damn strained, but Thomas was right.

He wasn't going to have a middle ground with a Death Eater though. "Why the hell," he whispered, "didn't Dumbledore throw you in chains the second you got here?"

Dean just shook his head, looking like he was disappointed. "You know Potter, for someone who has allegedly seen as much war as you have, you really are damn naïve on how it works for the rest of us." Dragging in a rough breath, he growled, "Now all of us get a choice. If we want to fight, want to help, we get stuck doing it in a less than ideal way."

Harry scoffed. "Yeah, so you're claiming you're like Krum then are you? Sucked into it against your will and now wanting to help?"

Dean grimaced. "Krum bringing back Hermione was a set up, Potter. To get all of you to trust him. Told Dumbledore the same."

Their gazes had been locked, and nothing in Dean's so much as stuttered. "Why in the hell would Dumbledore or anyone believe you?" he demanded harshly, the privacy charm buzzing damn loudly in his ears. "Why the hell does Kaylens believe you? What'd you do? Confound her?"

"Actually," he tersely threw, "I took Veritaserum and let them ask me anything the hell they wanted."

Harry's jaw tensed, his mouth half-way open, pausing. "You what?" he repeated. Veritaserum was rare, difficult to brew correctly. It was closely regulated and even rarer to drink. "Who brewed it?"

Dean didn't bat an eye. "Snape."

"Pardon me if I don't take the word of a Death Eater, but I'm going to have to verify that," he drawled viciously, Dean just shrugging.

"Go ahead."

"I will."

"Good."

The two wizards stood there like tautly wound strings ready to snap, glaring at one another.

It was Harry who finally broke first. "You know, that still doesn't tell me why they'd trust you as a Death Eater. Of course you gave them information. You were caught."

Dean shook his head, shooting him an almost pitying look. "They took me after Hogsmeade, Potter. Claimed that my actual father was a Death Eater, not a Muggle, and kind of just informed me that I was joining their ranks." That said, he grimaced darkly. "Unlike you I wasn't Dumbledore's golden boy, so wasn't exactly privy to the fact that there was a resistance I could have gone to for help."

Now Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Dumbledore had told him, a Death Eater, about the Order? What in the hell else had they told Dean? "I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he denied.

Thomas just let out a laugh, sometime akin to his normal boisterous attitude in it. "Sure you don't, Potter. Sure you don't." Then he shook his head, growing quiet for a long damn moment. Finally he tilted his head back, again demanding, "So what the hell are you planning to do about her, Potter? Because I meant it when I said I'd beat you to within an inch of your life."

Harry glared, before glancing over Dean's shoulder, something twisting within him. Kaylens was pissed, hurt, and she'd been sick.

And he hadn't been there.

"Don't know," he said levelly, turning his dark gaze towards Thomas. "Why don't you start by telling me what the hell you were doing in my girlfriend's bed?"

Dean outright snorted. "Girlfriend?" he repeated skeptically. "Bit presumptuous, Potter, given you've royally screwed the pooch."

Farther back in the wing something metallic snapped, Harry dimly damn aware of it and not caring. "Talk," he warned, "now."

The wizard just shook his head, a dangerous look in his eyes. "She was really bad off, Potter. Bad off, and had to help make her own damn cure on top of it. But I don't have to explain what her drawing does to her body to you do I?" The irritation vibrated within every uttered syllable. "Suffice it to say even Madame Pomfreycouldn't keep her body temperature up. Pretty sure both Neville and I slept with her for two days running so she wouldn't die."

That same invisible force attacked his throat again, Harry's gaze locked with Thomas' for a long damn moment.

Then his gaze darted towards the curtains concealing Kaylens, something twisting inside him. "You're exaggerating," he ground roughly, hoping to hell that was true.

"No," Dean bit, "I'm not."

Harry growled, Dean not batting an eye. "That girlfriend of yours almost died, Potter, and you weren't there."

This time the sound of something snapping wasn't due to Harry trying to not snap Dean's neck.

It was from the icy dagger of guilt that gutted him. Had Thomas walked right up and stabbed him it'd have felt far more pleasant.

He'd drawn one hell of the wrong conclusion.

Kaylens had hugged him though. She'd hugged a Death Eater.

He hadn't given her the benefit of the doubt.

Harry felt like that invisible force was slowly strangling his throat. "That bad?"

"Whatever you're picturing," Dean growled protectively, "make it worse."

Harry Potter shook his head. "I didn't know. If I had-"

"Funny that," Dean interjected, cutting him off, "because you were nowhere in sight. But don't worry, she's doing better now. We took care of her even when you didn't seem to give a damn."

Right then, there in the hospital wing, Harry had nothing to say. No defense. Nothing to counter that. He just stood there, muscles shaking.

Dean just looked him dead in the eye, nothing pleasant in his expression. "Little advice, Harry?" he practically whispered. "Snogging then not giving a sod about a chick? Great way to make them hate you. And Kaylens? She still didn't. So fix it."

With that Dean's wand snapped out, removing the privacy charm before Harry could say anything.

Then he'd stalked back towards the beds, a second slash of his wands sending the curtains suddenly darting back, the entire section re-revealed, Kaylens actually jumping and wincing.

Ginny had actually drawn her wand, Neville's hand on his.

They were all jumpy. It struck Harry that he had no damn clue what they'd went through.

He hadn't asked.

He should have.

Throat tight, feeling damn shaken, his gaze darted to Kaylens.

For a fleeting second he caught her eyes…

She pulled hers away a moment later, Harry deflating.

It didn't require any thought to do what he did next.

He lifted a heavily calloused hand, a pillow flying right into his palm. Harry tossed it to the floor alongside the Quarantine barrier, kicking it against the wall and creating a makeshift seat.

Then he looked right at Kaylens, stating bluntly, "I'm not going anywhere."

She didn't so much as look up. Harry didn't care. He dropped down to the ground, getting pointedly comfortable.

He was in for a long wait.


ECOTS


It was around hour thirty four when the Weasley twins decided to come harass him.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his makeshift spot on the floor, eyeing the two with some suspicion. Fred's arm was slung heavily around George's shoulder, the two doing a strange type of three legged race to the Quarantine barrier before collapsing to the ground.

Fred's damaged leg stuck straight out at an awkward angle, Madame Pomfrey's strict orders to not bend it actually being heeded on account that Fred 'was not a fan of things in him spurting again.'

Apparently shattering one's femur caused the surrounding muscle mass to go into spasms, which could result in bone shards severing the femoral artery, which was exactly what had happened to Fred. When Harry had heard that he had momentarily wondered when their lives had all turned into a horror film.

George groaned. "Brother o' mine, ya gotta lay off the pastry puffs if I'm gonna be hauling your arse around."

"Stop feeding me them and I'll stop eating them, ya wanker."

Harry eyed the two lanky, lean twins with a bit of a bemusement, right until they turned identical smirks of their own onto him.

Now it was his turn to groan. "Why do I feel like a first year about to be inquisitioned by the Wizengamut?"

"Why Harry," Fred protested, "you wound me. And here I thought you'd welcome our tutelage on this very vexing topic."

George's normally jovial blue eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming against the hospital wing's hard floor as he shot Harry a look. "You lost me," he stated very seriously, "twenty galleons, all because you don't know how to talk to girls."

"Thanks for that by the way, Harry," Fred grinned, giving his side pocket a smack, the galleons inside jangling.

Harry thudded the back of his head against the wall as hard as he could, and found himself disappointed when he didn't slip into unconsciousness. "Since when," he dryly questioned, "did you start betting on my dating life?"

"Since you got one."

"Since it got interesting."

Fred gestured gallantly. "Since I learned that Kally-kins there-"

Harry made a slightly irate sound that cut Fred off mid-gesticulation. "Kally-kins?" he questioned darkly.

Fred looked slightly put out, but just gave a wave in the Dean's general direction. "Yeah, Thomas is making it a thing."

Instantly Harry decided that whatever death he was planning for Thomas, it wasn't enough. He'd have to learn the fine art of necromancy to ensure the bastard's torment was prolonged if he was going around giving his girlfriend group nicknames.

"Anyway," Fred continued, "since I learned Kally-kins had one hell of a right elbow, reckoned I oughta bet on her." Grinning widely, he added, "No offense, Harry. But really, the women always win."

Both Harry and George shot Fred strange looks. "What do you mean by elbow?" Harry finally ventured, almost afraid to ask.

Fred made a rather violent gesture with his arms towards the general vicinity of George's nose, gleefully telling, "That!" as if it explained everything. "We ran into Avery. Apparently she absolutely loves Avery. They had this little cat and mouse game, ending when she finally graced him with a nasal rearrangement." He paused, thinking, "Course that was after she got bored with him body slamming her into windows. Girl can take a hit."

Harry felt his stomach physically flip, his gaze shooting from Fred towards where Kaylens lay reading something, doing an excellent job of pretending he didn't exist. George, however, was looking rather put out.

"Wait, you knew she was violent? Isn't that the equivalent to insider trading? Unfair advantage?"

Fred just grinned innocently. "Not my fault you ran the other way. You could have run under the bewitched pillars too, but oohhh no you decided that didn't look like enough fun."

George growled. "Bewitched four meter high poles with pointy ends trying to impale me didn't seem like it'd enhance my Saturday night."

Fred gave a wide-eyed look of mock shock. "You mean you didn't like that stellar runway of smeared blood all over the ground? Brother o' mine you've lost your sense of adventure!"

"You mean the bloodied runway with the only offered reward that of infiltrating an inevitably zombie-infested hospital where everything was trying to kill you, assuming," now waving at Harry to draw his attention to his brother's insanity, "that you survived the angry inanimate objects?"

"Yup, that's the one!"

"You're a mad man."

"Nawh, you're just getting soft."

Given that Harry still had no idea what the hell had gone on for any of the Dublin-assigned teams, he found himself getting a somewhat disturbing picture painted for him. "Kaylens did what?" he croaked.

Fred tilted his head and eyed Harry a bit curious, while George smirked.

"Ran under animated pointy metal poles trying to kill her, apparently. Woman might be as daft as Fred."

"Like that curse Death Eaters used on the light post outside of Grimmauld?" Harry demanded, almost afraid of the answer. That had just been one pole, not multiple, and just one had nearly killed Dumbledore and Fred.

Fred's eyes lit up in instant memory. "Right you are, Harry! That's the one!" he exclaimed as if remembering a particularly good weekend jaunt.

Harry slumped against the wall, closed his eyes, and groaned. If Kaylens ever decided to talk to him again, he was going to have to seriously consider locking her up for her own safety. It was either that or he was getting her armor for her birthday. Course, he'd have to find out when her birthday actually was. If he went that route, Ginny, Luna and Hermione were getting some too. Ron could fend for himself.

"Missed a grand fun time, Harry."

He cracked one eye and found both of the twins looking at him expectantly. "I think," he managed, "we have different definitions of fun."

The twins shrugged, then immediately focused back on him.

"Shall we, George?"

"Let's, Fred."

"Wait, I'm George."

"Are you?" Fred feigned in exaggerated confusion. "Then you're obviously thinking what I'm thinking."

"Birds and the bees talk for little ole, Harry?"

"Right you are, George!"

Fred cracked his knuckles in exaggerated fashion, George rolled his neck as if getting ready for a brawl with a hippogriff.

Harry once again tried to knock himself out by thudding the back of his head against the wall, but once again found himself disappointed. "I think," he groaned, "I'd rather clean cauldrons with Snape." He actually sounded serious.

Fred just guffawed. "Can't possibly mean that, mate. Now, we all know why she's mad at ya."

"Yeah, don't spend that much one-on-one time with a girl and not figure out what would piss her off."

"He's certainly making up for it now though isn't he?"

"You know, Harry, most blokes just go for flowers. They don't stage an all-out sit in," George said, sounding somewhat impressed as he gestured at Harry's nest.

Fred was frowning though. "Sit ins? Don't those Muggle nutters do that with trees?"

"Right you are brother."

"Muggle nutters?" The distinct clicking of Malana cleaning her gun cracked through the hospital wing, the girl's vibrantly blue eyes fixated on both Weasely twins as if contemplating violence.

The twins both stopped long enough to glance at her, looking contemplative, before both simultaneously calling dibs.

The dark haired girl just eyed them both malevolently. "I will shoot you."

Fred just waggled his eyebrows. "Mmmm talk dirty to me."

Harry had just started to wonder if Quarantine barriers were bulletproof when she raised the firearm, Neville Longbottom walking by at that convenient moment and snagging it out of her hand. "No you're not killing the twins."

Neville stated this with such a degree of casualness that Harry realized it might be a daily occurrence.

George was pointing to his eyes, then to Malana, then to the general vicinity of his chest with exaggerated motions, making his hand mime thump-thumping over the general vicinity of his heart.

The girl's growl could probably be heard all the way down in the dungeons.

Fred spun back around, fixing Harry with a maniacal grin. "Quiz time, Harry! True or false: a bloke should show up when his chick is hospitalized with Voldermort's smiley and magical plague and quarantined."

Harry Potter closed his eyes and willed Voldemort to find him, right then and there.

Regrettably that didn't happen. Instead George started tisking. "The correct answer is true, Harry. We're gonna need a lot of work on him, Fred."

"Well fortunately I got nowhere to be, George."

"Unless Harry does?"

Both twins fell suddenly silent, Harry cracking his gaze – he'd been pretending he was off on a beach somewhere, he'd heard they were nice – to find them both studying him rather intently.

Spying the slightly curious look they'd manage to draw from where Kaylens was trying to read, the non-witch still ignoring him but noticing the torment the twins were putting him through, he comprehended something.

He realized exactly what they were doing, Harry suddenly torn between muttering a quick thank you or hexing them both to within an inch of their lives.

Kaylens was actually looking at him though…

Harry rapidly decided on the former.

Leaning back against the wall Harry met her gaze, pointedly folding his hands back behind his head. "Not going anywhere," he stated loud enough for her to hear, before turning his attention back to the twins. "Now, teach me to grovel."

Fred and George looked like Christmas had come early, and Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw the corner of Kaylen's mouth twitch.


ECOTS


"I think he actually means it, you know," Dean muttered in the dark, everyone else fast asleep.

She actually groaned in response, ignoring the look Dean shot her. Kalliandra lay on her side, facing where he had crawled into bed with her to have this quiet little two a.m. chat. Either that or he was hoping to piss off Potter again, assuming Potter woke up to witness this.

She seriously had no idea what Dean had said to him, but the two had been shooting one another malevolent looks for the past three days.

Three days and Potter hadn't left yet.

Every single time Kally so much as glanced his way he'd just met her gaze, a determined glint in his. The last time she'd seen Potter have that look he'd been about to walk out the door to Number 12 Grimmauld and into a Death Eater fight for his life.

Then he'd strolled right out into the middle of the mayhem and casually invited the murdering Death Eaters all to have a nice little chat.

Dragging her fingers through her hair in frustration, Kally thudded her head onto the pillow, closed her eyes, and deeply contemplated kicking Dean off the narrow hospital bed and right onto the hard stone floor. "Don't you have anything better to do," came her whispered irritation, "than to cajole me into talking to someone who has pissed me off?"

"Well sure, but Ginny's asleep and her brother's might kill me if they woke up to that state of disrob-"

Kally gave into the temptation and did kick him, right in the shin.

Dean muffled his groan into the pillow, Kalliandra contenting herself with glaring at him. "Seriously?" she hissed, waiting expectantly for him to stop quietly and exaggeratedly kicking his leg across the bed sheets like a wounded animal.

When he finally did he shot her a wounded look.

Then he waggled his eyebrows at her.

Opening and closing her mouth several times, she finally managed, "I'd be seriously more afraid of Ginny." The girl had a temper on her, and she could only imagine the things she'd do to Dean if she woke up with him snogging her.

If possible, Dean's smirk just widened. "Never said I didn't like it rough."

Kalliandra glared, hissing, "Remind me why I bother talking to you?"

For the briefest of seconds, there in the dark, a shadow crossed his expression. The light heartedness of the conversation instantly evaporated, and she didn't have to ask what he was thinking of.

He was a Death Eater.

She wasn't.

He hadn't killed her, turned her over to Voldemort when he'd had the chance, and now…

Now Snape was trying to situate Dean to be a spy.

She didn't want to so much as think about what all of that meant.

Since their chat that first night Dumbledore had come back, the Headmaster reiterating something that had stuck with her. "An old man's mistakes…I have oft forgot that in ensuring the Order of the Phoenix's secrecy, that we rob hope of resistance from others."

Dean hadn't known there even was an Order, that there was even anyone fighting fully back other than a bunch of students called the D.A.

It made forgiving him a bit easier, as did the Vertiaserum that he'd all but chugged, pointedly looking at her as he'd gotten interrogated.

In the darkness of the hospital wing, only moonlight casting any form of silvery light, Kally reached out and gave his large arm a quick squeeze.

Next to her Dean just grimaced tightly, as if trying to force a grin that wouldn't come. Finally he just continued their conversation, as if nothing had happened. "You keep me around," he drawled, voice low to avoid waking the others, "because I'm devilishly charming and the only imbecile here who gets all your Muggle references."

Despite herself a slight smile touched her lips, sleep just not coming tonight.

Over the bed sheets Dean gave her an encouraging nod, adding, "Besides Kal, who else would act as your Potter-douchebag-screening-tool?" Lifting his head and giving a second nod behind her, in the direction where she knew Potter was, he pointedly added, "You're both miserable, so go talk to him."

Now her eyes did close. Kally was miserable. She just didn't want to admit it.

The fact that Potter hadn't cared enough to come see her had cut her deeply. The fact that she was able to feel that hurt by something so small had been shocking. For all she had known he could have been out hunting something with the rest of the Order, or training, or-

Sucking in a quick breath, she knew he hadn't been. No, he hadn't come to see any of them all because he'd thought she was doing something with Dean. It'd damaged something in her, something she couldn't quite name, all because she'd let herself feel close to him.

She didn't know if she could forgive him, stupid as it was. Because if he didn't care enough to at least make the miniscule effort to come see her when she was plague-ridden, if he didn't trust her enough to not jump to impossibly stupid conclusions, then how could she trust him?

Only she did. She trusted him with her life.

What hurt was that he obviously didn't trust her.

The entire thing was so ridiculously stupid.

But even Ron had come by.

"Seriously Kal," Dean muttered quietly, breaking into her thoughts, "the bloke's only moved to get a book and food. Pretty sure he hasn't even showered. How long you gonna make him suffer?" The look she shot Dean made it apparent that she was undecided on that, yet Dean just smirked knowingly. "Look, he's gonna stink up the place soon. Take one for the team man, go talk to him, and get him the hell out of here for at least a day would ya?"

With that Dean Thomas rolled right off her bed, hopping back into his own next to hers, and proceeded to make a dismissive shoo-ing motion at her with his hands.

Kally groaned, rolling over and finally, for the first time in three days, taking a good look at where Harry Potter had been.

He was still there, sleeping in a type of nest of pillows he'd made on the floor, slumped halfway against the wall and halfway against the actual Quarantine barrier. Half his face was smashed flat against the see-through magical construct, and he looked far from well-rested.

Hell, he looked almost haunted.

It occurred to her that she had no idea what had happened to him while she'd been gone, and that whatever it was…

It might have been bad.

Wetting her lips, heart racing, Kally quietly slipped out of bed, her bare feet carrying her across the hospital wing floor.

Maybe he wasn't the only one who had been an ass.


ECOTS


The clock ticked quietly high on the hospital wing wall, Harry dimly aware of that ever-constant sound first.

It was the other sound though, one that he'd sensed enough for it to rouse him, that caused him to actually open his eyes, his grip already winding around the wood of his wand. War had made him cautious, more so than was probably healthy.

Only what his gaze landed upon, the source of the quiet breathing he'd heard, wasn't a Death Eater. It wasn't some creature or anything dangerous. Instead Harry found himself looking blearily at an apparition.

Kaylens was sitting on the floor, on the opposite side of the barrier directly across from him, looking for all the world as if she belonged there. Her knees were drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs as her golden gaze looked vapidly towards the windows, the starry, clear sky visible in them.

The silvery moonlight spilling through the glass panes, the light ghosting across her pale skin, lent her an ethereal, dreamlike quality.

Had Harry not been able to hear her breathing he would have thought he was still sleeping, or perhaps hallucinating. Harry slowly shoved himself up. "Kaylens," he croaked, voice roughened with sleep and louder than intended.

Golden eyes darted his way, looking startled for the slightest of moments. Spotting him awake she let out a soft, sudden breath, as if relieved it was just him.

Then she held a finger up to her lips, making a quiet shooshing motion towards where the rest of the hospital wing slumbered.

His stomach lurched. If he hadn't been awake before, he was now. Her sitting there was the equivalent of someone shoving a bullhorn up to his ear and blowing.

Harry moved, rolling his stiff shoulders as he observed the rest of the dark wing. Fred rolled in his sleep, grunting something about dibs and swatting at some non-existent dream-foe, but otherwise it was utterly silent.

With so many of them in the wing it was hardly ever silent.

Harry's gaze observed the rest of the wing for a moment, before he brought it back to her. She was looking at him, brow furrowing, something tiredly conflicted in her expression. The darkness would have made the subtleties of expression easy to miss, but neither he nor she needed any light to see by.

Harry swallowed, still waking up, yet already feeling the nerves rifling through. "Um…I-how long have you been here?" he managed, voice barely audible, awkward. He felt like his heart was trying to thunder out of his chest, sitting there that close to her.

It'd been three long, long days of her pretending he didn't exist. He'd half begun to wonder if she ever was going to so much as look at him again.

The look in her eyes though…she certainly was looking at him now. "Not long," she murmured, long lashes fluttering over her eyes as she blinked. "Woke up and couldn't sleep. Saw you there, looking sort of pathetic, and…" trailing off, she took a deep breath, but no further words came.

Harry managed a grim, strained smile. "Yeah well, right now I am sort of pathetic," he admitted into the darkness. He was staking out a spot on the hospital wing floor for her. It didn't get much more pathetic than that.

Watching her, watching the way the tiniest of smiles teased at the edges of her lips at his admission, suddenly made the past three days of discomfort worth it. Sleeping at the angle he had been wasn't exactly good for one's neck after all.

Still looking at her, finding his chest twisting unnaturally, Harry drug a hand through his entirely messed up hair, repeating something he'd been saying a lot of in her general direction the past few days. "I'm sorry."

This time, unlike the past few days, she met his gaze head on. "You better be," she murmured softly, her toes wiggling against the cold floor. That slight, small movement drew his eyes towards her bare feet. She was missing socks, looking for all the world as if the chill in the night air couldn't touch her.

Harry found his eyes impossibly drawn to her toes. They were painted, that again surprising him.

It took him a second to draw his gaze away, back up to her face. "I am," he assured meaningfully. The hard part of his throat rose and fell in a swallow, the second hand on the clock still ticking quietly as they both looked at one another through the shadows. Her sheer and utter silence was unnerving, Harry almost afraid that if he didn't speak that she'd leave, like she had tried to last time.

"Look, Kaylens," he started, sounding only slightly desperate for her to not furiously storm away, "if I had known that you were sick…I wouldn't have stayed away. I would have-"

"Been here?" her quiet words cut him off. Despite the soft caliber of her whispered tone, it felt like she'd shouted into his face. Something upset stirred in her eyes."You sure about that, Potter?" she questioned doubtfully. "Because I'd told you I'd been exposed, that I might get sick, right there in Remus' backyard. And you didn't even bother to check. You just-"

"I did," he interjected quietly. "I just-"

"Saw me with Dean. Yeah," she breathed, "you were very clear on that point."

"It was stupid," he admitted, but she was already going on, as if she hadn't even heard him.

She just looked at him, her head shaking slowly, long strands of impossibly golden hair slipping over her shoulders and spilling around her face. "After everything you just assumed that I would…." She didn't finish. She just looked hurt, words half disbelieving. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Something that had been building between them for more than half a year was coming to a head, right here, right now, in the middle of the night, Harry damnably aware of that unstoppable fact.

It'd taken him barely over three months to screw it up.

Something sodding intense was building in him, Harry not wanting to lose this. Whatever it was….

He cared about her a hell of a lot more than he was willing or ready to yet admit, and judging from the way she was looking at him, the hurt there, he wagered an educated guess that it wasn't just one-sided or in his head.

Dean was right. He had to fix this.

"I'm sorry," he muttered honestly. "Not exactly rational when it comes to you, case you haven't figured that out yet. I just," dragging a hand through his bed-hair, it sticking up at strange angles, "keep expecting to screw this up."

"Bravo in that case," she caustically congratulated.

Farther off in the hospital wing Amarante snorted in his sleep, the wizard still unconscious, but at least now having progressed to almost human-like sounds. The noise temporarily drew both of their attentions, Kaylens moving as if thinking of standing, going to check on him, only…

She didn't. She just sat there, palm pressing against the floor, fingers splayed almost artfully out upon the stone. Her sleeves were so long that they hung halfway down her hands, almost enveloping them, her shirt clinging to her in ways that had the red blooded male parts of him groaning.

And he couldn't touch her.

Harry grimaced. "I hate this," he growled, knuckles wrapping the barrier in tired frustration, glaring at it. "If this thing wasn't here then I could just-"

Kalliandra immediately shot him a confounded look. "Just what, Potter?"

His fist froze mid-way to rapping against the barrier again, his shoulders tensing. If that barrier wasn't there he could show her how much he sodding cared, yet he could only grind out two simple words: "Show you."

"You mean snog me," she murmured, wetting her lips.

Harry took a deep, lingering breath. "That was a component," he ground, "yeah." Waiting only a half second, he steeled himself, more seriously forcing, "Though what we do isn't snogging, Kaylens. It's kissing. It's more than that because-" stopping, taking a deep breath, he ground, "It just is."

Kaylens seriously looked like she was planning to get up, Harry feeling a stab of panic before her lips parted, a slightly awed statement coming out. "My god," came her disbelieving undertone, "you are an idiot." She sounded like she was just realizing this.

"Just occurring to you?" he dryly muttered, well aware that he'd just insulted himself. "Look, you know I'm bad at talking. I talk and this," he made a rough gesture between them, "winds up happening. At least we both know I'm good at the other stuff."

Kalliandra just looked at him with a mixture of shock and annoyance. "You're lucky there's a barrier here, Potter," she half-threatened, "otherwise you'd have been slapped by now."

"If it helps," he dryly bit, happy to promise her that if it got her to forgive him. Dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, he pressed, "Look, I'm sorry. How do I- just tell me how do I fix this?"

The look she was giving him there, in the dark hospital wing, was slightly broken. "I'm not sure you can."

Amazing how five words could affect him so much. Harry found himself shaking his head, his brow furrowing, feeling sick. "Think I owe it to you to at least try."

She was wetting her lips. "Maybe we should just-"

"No." He already knew what she was going to say, feeling ill. Looking at her, damn intently, he managed, "Is that what you actually want? Because I sure as hell don't."

Her lips parted, opening as if about to speak, only to close, a shuddering breath escaping her. Harry suddenly understood what it meant to hang on someone's words, because the sodding sick feeling remained until she again spoke. "No."

He swallowed, the swelling of sudden panic in the night still there, but abating only slightly. "Then tell me what I've got to do Kaylens. Please."

Her lips parted soundlessly, Harry watching them as she said nothing, her mouth closing for a long, long moment.

He waited. He'd waited three days, and he'd wait three more if he had to. Just for some reason this wait of only a few seconds felt longer than the amount of time he'd already spent sitting there on the cold castle floor.

Kaylens had drug her knees more tightly against her chest, looking almost insecure, gnawing on her lip. "I could have died, Potter. You weren't there."

"Have I mentioned," he gutturally forced, "that I'm an asshole?"

A strange look passed through her eyes. "You're not an asshole."

He just shot her a look. "Really? Because kind of seems like that's what you're driving at."

"Because you didn't trust me," she hissed, glancing back to ensure they hadn't awoken anyone. "All because you got jealous." She turned back to him, her eyes flicking over him. "Harry, if you just do that any time you get an idea in your head without actually talking to me, how am I supposed to trust you?"

And then Harry suddenly got it, from the way she was looking at him, from the way her expression desperately begged him to give her any reason…

It hadn't been that he hadn't been by.

It had been his reasons for not.

"I trust you," he muttered truthfully. "I'm just…just scared of losing you, alright?" Harry swallowed, deciding to hell with it as he pressed, "To the war, the plague, hell…even to Thomas. I've lost too many people already, sometimes it easier to just not look when you think it's happening."

Had it not been for his ability to see in the dark he might have missed it, but he didn't. Something shaken crossed her countenance for the barest of seconds. "So that makes you act like an idiot?"

"Yeah, that makes me act like one hell of an idiot," he ground darkly, it getting hard to keep his voice lowered. "I thought you were dead for only a few minutes Kaylens, when the others came back and you weren't with them. That…hell-" he croaked, grabbing at his unruly hair and tugging, as if considering ripping it out. "That wasn't fun."

Kalliandra was studying him quietly, her whisper barely audible. "I heard you attacked Dumbledore."

"Damn right I did."

Wetting her lips, she eyed him with something akin to wonderment. "At some point," she murmured, "you're going to have to explain that to me."

"Done," he promised, seizing upon any excuse for her to willingly have a future conversation with him at this point. Studying her, Harry didn't know what the hell he was going to say until it came out. "I was scared of losing you, alright? Of all the damn people that could have gotten killed, I just didn't want it to be you. Then…then I saw you with Thomas after everything and thought I was…just in a different way."

Now it wasn't in his imagination, Kaylens did actually look shocked. She outright shifted from her relatively still position on the floor, her fingers falling slack upon her knees. "The others have been in your lives a lot longer than I have, Potter."

"Yeah, tell me about it," he dryly muttered. "I'd kill anything that so much as touched them, but you annoyingly appear to have gotten under my skin."

Kaylens had gone suddenly, seriously quiet. Her golden gaze was flickering over him, studying him, the hospital wing's clock ticking as if it knew every second of this conversation counted. "Not alone…." She finally, quietly told, brow furrowing as she met his eyes. "Honestly, I was so terrified that you'd get yourself killed doing something brash while we were gone that I tried not to even think about you."

"Glad to see I was missed," he morosely ground, sounding only slightly bitter. The look she shot him though…

"It's not like that," she uttered. "I just…didn't want to think about coming back and you not being there."

"Yeah," he grunted, "I get that. Only when I did come back you weren't here. Then they got back," gesturing to the sleeping parties, "and you still weren't." Everything about his tone was damn bitter. "Believe me, I get it."

Sitting there, on the hospital wing floor, Harry was within arm's reach of her. That was perhaps the most maddening thing about all of this.

Maybe she really didn't want him there. Maybe he should go. Maybe the entire damn thing had been more one-sided than he'd thought. The thought left his mouth before he could stop it. "Look, if you actually want me to go, Kaylens-"

"Don't."

The note of panic in her single word had him frowning, but she wasn't done, her chest rising in a swiftly indrawn breath, doing interesting things to the way it pressed beneath her shirt. "I'm sorry. I-I probably should have heard you out."

Despite himself Harry actually snorted. "Seem to recall," he dryly bit, "you did. Then seem to recall I got a bit accusatory."

She smiled sadly. "Yeah well, if you didn't jump to conclusions I'd wonder if it was really you."

"Fair enough." He had drawn a lot of inaccurate ones the first few months they'd known each other. It was little shock she thought that was his norm.

He'd drawn incorrect ones before.

About Hermione, first year.

About needing to keep Pettigrew alive, third year.

About Sirius being in trouble, last year, only….he'd died because of it.

In the stark, clinical silence of the hospital wing, only light, intermittent snoring breaking it, her quiet voice snuck through. "You honestly want to fix this?"

Harry fixed her with a look that was so annoyed he was shocked she didn't get up right then and there. "I've been sitting here for three days in total boredom so I can do just that," he drawled. "So yeah, Kaylens. Glad my plan was so transparent."

His expression didn't faze her. Instead her eyes held his steadily, gold against jade, the non-witch gnawing maddeningly on her lower lip. "Then get it together, Potter," she entreated, "because I am running out of synonymsfor idiot."

It took him a second to process that. Get it together. Harry was fairly certain the relief he felt was visible in his expression. "Really?"

A slight, sleepy smile touched her lips. "Yeah, really." Kaylens then did the last thing he'd expected.

She shifted, settling in alongside him, leaning against the same wall he was. Now only a few centimeters and the Quarantine barrier separated them, her eyes fluttering closed tiredly.

Then she placed her hand gently against the clear barrier, her fingertips so close yet impossibly out of reach. He could see the ridges of her fingertips through the Quarantine.

Slowly, disbelieving that she'd changed from icy to that as fast as she had, he slowly lifted his own hand, placing it on the opposite side of hers. "Done," he promised.

She had been absent a week, quarantined another week, and there'd been several days he'd just not seen her, followed by another three where he'd tried to fix that lapse. Hell if he hadn't missed her.

"So…" she requested tiredly, "tell me what happened while you were gone."

So he did. Every damn detail. Right up to his shock at seeing her forgive and then hug a Death Eater and his frustration with not being able to tell Ron and Hermione about his reasons for why it bothered him so damn acutely.

Kaylens sat there in silence, her palm having slid down the clear barrier to linger alongside it upon the floor. His own hand had followed.

"Harry," she murmured, the loss of his surname agreeable, "I forgave him because I got knocked out by the train wreck. I was out long enough for Dean to have either killed me or summoned Death Eaters to take me, but he chose not to. He didn't." Eyes flickering open, she met his green gaze earnestly. "What do you think they'd do to him if they found out he'd chose me over them?"

Harry grimaced. "Easy, they'd kill him."

"Exactly." Together they simply remained there, Harry listening, smart enough to keep his mouth shut. "He's my friend, Harry, from day one." Glancing back over her shoulder into the quiet hospital wing, towards where Dean was sleeping, she quietly intoned, "Whatever's happened…still is apparently." An out of place, soft laugh escaped. "He's the one that finally convinced me to come over and talk to you, actually."

Harry made a disappointed sound. "Guess I can't kill him then."

The look she shot him was flabbergasted, Harry just smirking in response. "What?" he stated unapologetically. "I've been having fun imagining increasingly creative deaths for him the past few days. Ron even offered to get me a shovel."

Kaylens' eyes narrowed, tone frighteningly serious, "You are so lucky there's a barrier here, Potter."

"Pity, I'd still rather like to get around to that snogging you plan."

"Mmm," she murmured in response. "Guess we'll just be forced to talk then."

He gave a mock shudder. "Underhanded tactics, Kalliandra. What's next? Withholding once you're out of here?"

To his surprise she let out a slight, quiet laugh, for the first time starting to look a little more relaxed. "Wasn't," she mused, "but thanks for the idea." Her eyes shifted towards him, sparkling with hints of mischief.

Harry just met hers with feigned lack of amusement. "Merlin, what have I done?"

She smiled wanly. "What's the matter, Potter? Afraid if we're reduced to just chatting that you're going to start admitting to liking puppies, unicorns and rainbows?"

He shot her a look, then purposefully looked her up and down, making an appreciative sound. "I like some unicorns," he drawled, intent clear.

She laughed. "I meant the fluffy, running around in the forest kind."

"How's that going for you, by the way?" he asked, not sounding nearly as casual as he wanted to.

Kaylens shrugged. "Comes and goes, mostly when I'm sleeping. Nothing too distracting though."

"I'm glad."

Things with Kaylens were like a ticking time bomb. She could collapse at any moment if she used too much magic, and could die. Despite what Dumbledore had reassured him of, there was the remotest possibility that the barrier he'd erected inside her mind might not fully work, then she could lose her mind, think she was a unicorn, and then also die. Voldemort could get to her, take her since she was a magical subtype of witch, and then she'd definitely die.

There was also the very real possibility of him pissing her off given he had no idea how to talk around her, and then he'd die, because she'd kill him.

For the thousandth time it occurred to Harry that girls were outright dangerous for his health.

The way she was looking at him now though, deep in the night while the others slept…

The things she was doing to his chest made him realize he still might die.

Harry wet his lips, holding her eyes. "I am sorry, Kally," he whispered, her first name sounding good to his ears.

The slightest of smiles touched her countenance. "Me too, Harry."

And just like that…things were fine again.

Fred and George had been right, Harry really didn't understand girls.

Leaning back, folding his arms behind his head, he contented himself with quietly observing her for a long, long moment. It was awhile before either of them again spoke, but when he did his voice was laced with subtle humor.

"So," he managed casually, "what's this I heard about enchanted pillars trying to stab you, and you running straight for them?"

Kaylens promptly bit down hard on her lip to suppress an impish smile, Harry's jaw line turning in a smirk of his own.

"See?" he drawled. "Knew I couldn't leave you alone for a minute."

A quiet laugh broke the night, several of the room's occupants stirring in their sleep. Neither party cared, because there, side-by-side, deep in the night they finally talked. Harry asked about what had happened while they were gone in Dublin, some of the answers making him twitch. Regrettably that just seemed to amuse her. By the time they were done though…

Kaylens golden eyes had closed, her head leaning haphazardly on the barrier near his, Harry loath to move.

Fred and George had been wrong about flowers. Sit-in's worked a hell of a lot better.

Leaning near her, as close as he could possibly get while his girlfriend was in quarantine, he quietly muttered near her ear, "I promise…I'm not going anywhere."

A sleepy murmur of, "Good," was like music to his damn ears.

Eventually Harry too fell asleep.

The rest of the quarantined group found them like that in the morning, more galleons exchanged, George looking decidedly happier with that day's winnings.

Apparently there was a squares betting pool going on.

Later, much later, when Harry found out about it, he made sure to systematically hunt down each that had betted against him winning her back, and then subjected them to a friendly array of stealth hexes.

It was the least he could do.