I'm not looking for the rest of your life

I just want another chance to live

Patty Griffin - "Rain"

"I'm worried about Harry," Ron said to Hermione over tea. He set down the latest missive from his family, frowning. "No one's heard from him all month. He's not been to the burrow since Fred's funeral, he hasn't turned on his floo, and when dad stopped by Grimmauld place the other day he said there was no answer. Plus, he hasn't responded to my letter, which I sent almost three weeks ago!"

"Probably he's just brooding," Hermione said, though Ron could see the worry start to cloud her eyes. "You know how he is."

"That's exactly my point," Ron said, gesturing wildly toward nothing in particular. "He gets broody and starts isolating himself. What do you want to bet that he hasn't left that house since we left? No human contact. No one but Kreature and Missus Black for company. I really think we should go check on him."

"You want to go back to England now?" Hermione asked, startled, panic rising at the thought of leaving Australia with her relationship with her family in such a tenuous place."

"Just for a day or so," Ron promised. "Apart from Harry, we're the only ones with keys to Grimmauld place. We port-key back to London, stay a night or two just to make sure Harry hasn't gone and gotten himself killed, and then we're right back to Australia."

Hermione furrowed her brow in thought, sipping her tea. "Why don't you just send your copy of the key to the Burrow?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "What, and ask Ginny to go check up on her ex-boyfriend after he's just dumped her? Or overwhelm Harry with my mother? No, I really think we ought to go out there ourselves. Or I can go on my own if you'd rather not leave. There and back, you won't even miss me." Ron stared at her, determined. Whether Hermione chose to come along or not, Ron wasn't going to wait another day without hearing from his best mate.

"Oh, all right!" Hermione said, forfeiting. "It is worrying that no one's heard from him. I won't make you go alone. Just let me call my parents and let them know we'll be out of the country for a few days."

Ron lept to his feet as Hermione pulled out her 'mobile'. Wasting no time, he waved his wand, sending clothes and toiletries into Hermione's bag. He didn't pack much, fully intending for it to only be an overnight trip, but he brought along a few extra outfits in case it turned into a longer visit. He hoped they wouldn't need them, but seven years as Harry Potter's best friend had taught him to always prepare for the worst.

"Um, Hi ...Mum," Ron half-listened as Hermione spoke.

...

"No, no, everything's fine. Only, we're - that is, Ronald and I - we're a bit worried about a friend of ours, Harry? We've mentioned him before. He's the one who lives in London?"

...

"Yes, he inherited the house. The thing is, no one's heard from him for some time, and since Ron and I are the only ones with keys to his house, we thought we'd pop over and just make sure he's doing all right."

…

"Yes, exactly: a welfare call. Ron's packing now. Hopefully, we can make it to Canberra and catch a port-key back to the UK by this afternoon. Then, if everything's fine, we'll just stay the night and be back in Australia by tomorrow."

…

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing. He gets like this sometimes. More than likely, he's just become a hermit and worried us all needlessly. We'll just knock some sense into him, remind him to write once in a while, and be on our way."

…

"Of course, if our plans change I'll call you first thing!"

…

"Thanks! See you in a few days. Bye!"

By the time Hermione had 'hung-up, while' Ron was already packed and waiting by the door. With a sigh, Hermione slipped into her shoes and jacket and called up a taxi to take them to the alleyway that served as the gateway between muggle Darwin and its Wizarding district.

The cab ride took no time at all, but when they inquired about the bus to Canberra, they were told they were a full two hours too early.

"Shall we just wait around here, then? Or do you want to go back home for the time being?" Hermione asked, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets to warm them. It was only just officially winter in Australia, and even winter in the Northern Territories was typically warmer than June in London, but they'd had quite the cold snap this week, and the temperature that morning had dipped down to below 15°C. She couldn't wait to be back somewhere warm again. Already the cold was getting to her - not so frigid that she'd need a heavier coat, but the kind of insidious chill that seeped into one's bones without one noticing, until they were freezing from the inside out. A month in Australia and it was like she'd completely forgotten that she'd spent six winters in the highlands. Not to mention the last year on the run, when she'd been cold all the time.

Ron shook his head. "Nah, better to just stay and wait. We can go find a cafe or something."

What they'd ended up doing was walking along the bustling, narrow streets and giving themselves their first, proper tour of Wizarding Darwin. The neighbourhood was more spread out than was Diagon Alley, but with significantly less foot traffic, although it was the biggest Wizarding area in the Northern Territories. The tiny clusters of buildings that they'd passed on the bus-ride in had made the little wizarding Villages Hermione had seen look positively metropolitan.

Still, for all that it was quieter than Diagon Alley, it took quite some time to traverse the area, and Hermione took the opportunity to take a few pictures of the local landmarks. Already, of course, she'd taken several pictures around Darwin proper, but she was charmed by the baroque facade of the public library and the fluid, modern lines of the small businesses they passed. Like in Britain, the wizarding districts here were a living exhibition of Australia's past. It was interesting, however, the areas in which they chose to embrace modern, muggle style, and those in which they remained unchanged for centuries. The bus and even those few personal vehicles they'd seen had been purely wizarding styles, and yet, littered amongst the imposing baroque and victorian landmarks were unique modern shops with sleek lines and bright colours.

The coffeeshop they found had a deeply curved roof and a glass front, and to their luck, the owner was more than happy to let them wile away their time with a couple of scones and cups of hot chocolate to take away the chill.

The walk through town had taken up an hour in which Hermione was pleasantly occupied playing tourist, however, the longer they sat idle in the coffee shop waiting for their bus, the more worried Hermione became. She hadn't wanted to think about it before, being so preoccupied with her ongoing efforts to rebuild her relationship with her family.

Shamefully, she hadn't given much thought at all to what was going on back home, and a part of her had even resented Harry for intruding on this project of hers. But she'd quickly scolded herself. Harry wasn't intruding. Harry hadn't made any demands on their time or their attention the whole month they'd been away. And that was the whole problem. A problem Hermione guiltily took the blame for. Harry knew how important this trip was to them; to her. It was entirely probable that even if Harry had been in some sort of trouble that he simply would have dealt with it on his own, however detrimental that might be, for fear of asking too much of his friends whom he'd relied upon so heavily this last year.

Hermione could see the deep-seated guilt in Harry's eyes, could feel it in the way he instinctively tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible in the close space of the Burrow. In the quietude that had taken residence in him since the Death Eater trials. She knew he felt the survivor's guilt more acutely than she or Ron did, and she knew he'd felt guilty for taking that year away from them while they were on the run. He'd apologised for it before, in fact, while they were out in the wilds together, just the two of them. He'd apologised for dragging them down with him, and though Hermione had assured him that her accompaniment was her own choice, she knew he carried that burden with him.

She knew, now that she was able to think on it clearly, that Ron was right to be worried about Harry's radio silence. Whether something nefarious had occurred or not, they needed to make sure that their friend wasn't hiding away simply for fear of making a nuisance of himself.

"I think we should probably ought to stay a few extra days," Hermione confessed into her cocoa.

Ron nodded in agreement. "I packed for a whole week, just in case."

While Hermione prided herself on being the most scholarly of the three of them, it was Ronald who was the more intuitive. For all she'd accused him once of having the emotional range of a teaspoon, Ron's instincts were almost always right.

She hoped that Harry had isolated himself out of misplaced guilt, but if Ron's instincts were telling him there was something bigger at play, Hermione put her trust in him.

Finally, the time came for them to make their way back to the bus stop. Once aboard, they took the same seats in the middle of the carriage as they had on the drive to Darwin, though they were lucky that the spot was free. The drive south was much more packed than the ride north had been, and the bus was already half full. The nearly three-hour drive felt almost as long this time as it did the first time, her anxiety drawing the time out like saltwater taffy.

She tried to occupy herself with the copies of the Prophet that Molly had sent to Ron with her latest letter. Molly wrote to them regularly, and with every note, she sent along papers for all the days since she'd last written. As such, Hermione had a whole week's worth of Daily Prophets to sift through, the two of them trading off as they both searched the headlines for any signs of trouble brewing back home.

"Malfoy Manor Seized! Plans To Turn Estate Into War Museum!"

"Hogwarts Repairs Underway! Volunteers Needed!"

"Minister Of Magic To Commission Memorial To Those Lost At The Battle Of Hogwarts!"

"War Orphan Charity Event Huge Success! Thousands Of Galleons Raised!"

"Boy-Who-Lived Not Seen At War Orphan Gala Despite Invitation! Where Is The Saviour Now?"

"Garrick Ollivander To Retire! Can Neice Leonia Fill His Shoes?"

"Things seem to be going well back home," Hermione admitted.

"Yeah…" Ron agreed with an air of suspicion. "But you never can rely on the papers to tell us what we really need to know. Didn't I hear all the Slytherins are living in London now?"

"The families of the Death Eaters, yes. Do you think they might have something to do with Harry's silence?"

"They are in the same city, after all. They're bound to run into one another."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I don't know. London is incredibly large. It's entirely likely Harry might never even see them unless he hunts them down deliberately."

"Which he will."

Hermione had to concede to that. Harry had a sixth sense when it came to knowing where Draco Malfoy was at all times, and a compulsion to go harass him. The opposite was also true, of course. Like two magnets, they were constantly drawn to one another, to her and Ron's constant irritation.

It really was an obsession at this point. Or, at least it had gotten that far in sixth year. The year away may have done Harry some good in that respect, but in the wake of his defence of the Slytherin to the Wizengamot, Hermione held out little hope that his preoccupation with the boy wouldn't flare up once more.

She only hoped that Ron was wrong about Draco Malfoy potentially being involved in Harry's apparent disappearance.

They were able to catch a portkey out of Canberra at half two which deposited them in a drearily cloudy London at the sleepy hour of five in the morning. Ron stuck his hands deep in his jacket pockets, as it was actually somewhat colder in London than it had been in Darwin.

Hermione waved her wand and summoned a perfectly convenient normal looking bus that definitely was neither a carriage nor a train and did not make them wait two hours to board. Ron had never been so happy to be in Britain where things made sense.

They boarded the nearly empty bus and took their seats near the front. The ride to Grimmauld place took mere minutes and soon they were stepping back out onto the street. The bus sped off as they made their way up the unhidden walkway to the foreboding front door.

"Harry's definitely not awake yet," Ron pointed out.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes, "Of course he's not. I just want to confirm that he's actually here and hasn't disappeared completely. We don't have to wake him up yet. In fact, I am rather looking forward to taking a nap once we get inside."

Ron nodded emphatically. "I can't wait," he said as Hermione inserted the heavy metal key and pushed the door open.

The hall illuminated upon their entry, the light bright and sunny in spite of the soft grey glow of London's dawn filtering through the enchanted windows. The dingy wallpaper looked clean and new, and even the crown moulding looked freshly scrubbed. The pervasive aura of misery that had hung around the house seemed absent now.

"Wow…" Ron boggled. "Harry must've spent the whole month fixing this place up!"

"It is impressive…" Hermione agreed.

The two trudged upstairs and Ron nearly ran into Hermione when she stopped dead in front of him on the landing. "Whoa!" he yelled, taking a step back. "What's wrong?"

"Ronald, look!" she hissed, pointing at a space of blank wall in front of them.

"What? I don't see anything?"

Hermione smacked his arm. "Exactly! The portrait of Walburga Black is gone!"

Ron did a double-take. "Bloody hell! How'd he do it?!" he asked, excited. Sirius had tried for years to get that horrible, screeching thing down. "No wonder the house feels nicer!"

Ron had to practically drag Hermione to the guest room, which was freshly dusted and smelled pleasantly of sweet peas, which he spotted in a crystal vase atop the writing desk. Hermione quickly charmed their clothes into the wardrobe and they hung their jackets before heading back out into the corridor.

Thus settled, Ron led the way to Sirius' old bedroom; the one Harry had claimed for himself. Ron knocked softly. "Harry? It's us. Are you up?" But there was no answer. Knocking harder, Ron called again, "Harry? It's been a month mate, and no one's heard from you! Open the door or we'll be forced to get worried!" Still, no response was forthcoming.

"Harry's not usually a heavy sleeper," Hermione murmured and Ron nodded in agreement, lips pursed in a flat line.

"We're coming in!" he warned before turning the handle.

The door swung open to reveal the only room they'd seen thus far that hadn't received a thorough cleaning. Though the bed was made, there was visible dust on all the surfaces, with no disturbances to indicate anyone had been in the room for weeks.

"...Maybe he's claimed the Master?" Ron suggested weakly.

"The one Buckbeak completely annihilated? You think he's managed to get that sty back in living condition?" Hermione asked, sceptically.

Ron shrugged. "He seems to've done all right with the rest of the house. We should check, just in case."

So Hermione followed as Ron took them up past the second-floor library to the third storey where the master suite was situated. Glancing at Hermione nervously, Ron tried the door.

The rooms had been repaired; extensively so. New wallpaper adorned the walls in soft green and purple, along with new, ornate furniture. A full, antique bedroom suit and a canopied, four-poster bed filled the space. It was just as empty as the rest of the house had been. Pristine, and untouched.

"...Where did Harry even get this stuff?" Ron wondered.

"More importantly, where is he?" Hermione countered.

"Harry!" Ron called loudly as he thundered back down the stairs. Hermione stopped to check the library as Ron continued down to the first floor, checking the sitting room before heading for Regulus' room which revealed itself to be equally desolate.

"He's not in the library," Hermione confirmed, joining Ron on the first-floor landing.

"Eep!" came a small, high pitched voice from near the stairs. Hermione whirled and Ron jogged over to her, the two of them staring down an unfamiliar house elf in a scrap of heather coloured chiffon.

"Who're you?" Ron barked as Hermione asked, "Where's Harry?"

The little elf tugged on her ears, bobbing in a kind of curtsy. "Mimsy keeps the house while Master Harry Potter is away. Mimsy did not know Master Harry Potter was expecting company! Mimsy will bring coffee to the sitting room if Master Harry Potter's guests will please wait!"

"No, forget the coffee, where's -" but there was a pop of displaced air as Mimsy the house-elf disapparated.

"What did she mean, 'while Harry is away'? Where could he have gone? And since when does he have another house-elf? Last I heard, he didn't even want Kreature here!" Hermione's voice raised to a shrill pitch.

All Ron could do was shrug and pull her into the sitting room. The furniture here was new as well, now that Ron was looking. Or at least, it was unfamiliar to him. In actuality, the furnishings were just as antiquated as those in the master's rooms had been. "Where the hell did all this furniture come from?" Ron asked as the two paced nervously around the room, neither bothering to sit on the perfectly comfortable sofa while they waited for Mimsy to reappear so that they could interrogate her further on Harry's whereabouts.

After some tediously long, tense minutes, Mimsy popped into the room with a silver tray of coffee.

"Mimsy is terribly, terribly sorry that Master Harry Potter's guests have had to wait so long, only Mimsy did not hear the doorbell! So sorry!" Mimsy simpered and Ron honestly couldn't tell if the elf was being genuine or passive-aggressive.

Still, he answered, "We didn't ring the bell. We have a key to the house." Ron could see the little elf stiffen almost imperceptibly, raising her eyes over the tray to stare at them suspiciously.

"Oh, of course!" she chirped. "Mimsy did not know that there were others who had access to the House."

"Yes. Harry gave us keys before we left. Where is Harry, anyhow? You said that he was away? Where has he gone? Do you know when he'll be back? And where is Kreature?"

Mimsy tittered nervously as she poured the coffee. "Kreature is at Hogwarts," she answered, evasively. "Mimsy is not at liberty to say what Master Harry Potter's business is, but if Master Harry Potter's guests will wait, Mimsy will go and fetch Master for you, yes? Good? Mimsy will go tell Master you is here!" Mimsy pushed the coffee towards them, avoiding their eyes as she frantically disapparated from the room.

"That was suspicious," Hermione said, breaking the silence that followed Mimsy's disappearance. "Wasn't it? That wasn't just me, right? Something definitely strange is going on."

Ron reached for the cream and sugar, mixing it into the brown sludge until it was approximately the colour of old parchment. Taking a sip, he winced. He hated coffee. "House elves are always nervous, you know that. Anyway, she said she was going to get him, so he's probably fine." The tension that he'd held all day began to dissolve with Mimsy's promise to fetch her master. Finally, tangible proof that Harry really hadn't gotten himself into trouble while they were gone.

He felt Hermione relax by inches, fixing her coffee until it was somewhat palatable - both of them preferred tea - as they waited for Mimsy to reappear with their friend.

They both startled when they heard Mimsy's arrival downstairs in the front hall, but quickly set their barely-touched coffees back onto the silver tray and stood, rounding the couch as the soft sound of bare feet padded up the stairs towards them.

Ron heard Hermione inhale, preparing for a righteous lecture but froze. In the doorway, dressed in a black, satin dressing gown hung loosely over grey linen pyjamas was a bare-foot, messy-haired Draco Malfoy.

"I wondered when you lot would show up," he muttered, voice still hoarse with sleep. "I hadn't expected it to be the arse crack of dawn, but I suppose one can't control everything." Taking advantage of their stupor, Malfoy headed for the coffee tray, helping himself to the proffered beverage.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Malfoy? Where's Harry? What do you think you're playing at?!" Ron snarled, crowding Malfoy, using his height advantage to tower over him.

"I swear if you've done anything to him…" Hermione threatened lowly, wand aimed at the blond.

Malfoy remained unmoved, blinking at them sleepily over his coffee.

"Look, I haven't done anything to him. He's just… not well. He had a bit of an… episode… and now he's staying in hospital until he's fully recovered. Mimsy doesn't actually know anything about it, that's why she came and got me."

"We would have heard if Harry were in hospital!" Ron rebuffed, "It'd have been in all the papers!"

"I thought you lost custody of your house-elves when you lost the manor?" Hermione interrogated.

Malfoy nodded, acceding. "We did. I gifted her to Harry to help get the house back in order. This place was a complete nightmare. And you wouldn't have heard anything if he were in a muggle hospital, which, in fact, is exactly why he is in a muggle hospital right now. He outright refused to go to Saint Mungo's specifically to avoid the bloody papers." He took a sip of his coffee, eyes fluttering in pleasured relief as the caffeine hit his system.

"Why is he in the Hospital at all? What happened to him?" Hermione continued.

"He's sick," Malfoy said simply. "I'll not say more than that. Look," he dug around in his dressing gown pocket and procured a simple, white, calling card, "I got this because I knew you'd come around asking about him eventually. It's got the telly-phone number for the hospital on it. You can call and set up an appointment to go see him. Visiting hours start at nine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have community payback in under two hours, so I've really got to go."

Hermione took the card in shock, staring blankly at the hospital contact information.

"Why do you know all this and we don't?" Ron asked as Malfoy made his way to the door. "Why didn't he call us if he was unwell?"

Malfoy didn't look at them when he answered. "With Harry gone, the property falls to my mother. Kreature didn't know who else to call. Not even she knows the extent of Harry's illness, though. As for why he didn't tell you himself, he simply hasn't been in the state for it. The healers will let you visit him, probably, but he's not exactly great company at the moment. Definitely not up for writing letters." He didn't say anything more before he left them. They stood in silence, listening as he padded back down the stairs, apparating out from the front hall.

"Kreature must have thought he was dying," Ron said quietly, "if he went to Narcissa Malfoy.

"We shouldn't have waited so long before coming," Hermione said. "You were right about something being off."

"Whatever's happened, he's getting help now, right? He's got healers working on him, whatever is wrong."

Hermione glanced down at the calling card for the psychiatric hospital, creased from where she'd been holding on too tightly. "I don't know," she confessed.

They settled in for more waiting. They'd be at the hospital at nine.