Faye Boot roamed aimlessly through the halls. The medication she took often made her restless. It irritated her, but she'd rather be restless than - but no, she wasn't going to think about the alternative. She'd spent too many years that way. She was sick of it. She wanted to feel normal. She'd take the restlessness.

The security guards waved at her as she passed by them, some stationed in certain places, others in plain clothes roaming the halls. But she knew them by sight. She hadn't lived here long, but it hadn't taken her more than a week to figure out who worked here and who lived here, who visited every day and who had never been here before. She was observant. Perhaps this was due to her childhood; after all, when one was punished for anything not in its proper place, one tended to develop skills that otherwise may have gone unused.

She waved at another guard - his name was Luke, she recalled - but only half noticed his returning wave. A woman in a crisp business suit was walking towards her with an official sort of confidence. Faye felt her heart quicken and her mouth dry as she stared at the curvy figure with shoulder length hair that she could tell had been dyed very recently, judging by the vividness of the lime green. The young woman was well below the age range Faye would consider in dating partners, but beauty like hers demanded to be observed regardless.

The woman didn't so much as glance at her as she walked past, and Faye turned her head to watch her as she went by; it was only when she was halfway down the hall did she realize that she'd started to follow her. "We'd be Christmas together," Faye murmured to herself, shaking her own strawberry colored hair out.

Faye followed her green haired vision through hallways until she stopped at the door to an employee lounge. The woman paused at the entrance, her hand on the doorknob. She seemed to take a breath before letting herself inside.

"You're not an employee," Faye said, her thoughts voicing themselves out loud. "So what are you doing?"

There was a bench down the hall, she knew. It seemed to be a lovely time to have a little rest. And maybe if she were patient, she might spot the woman once more.

After all, she had nothing but time.

"Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy."

Astoria inclined her head and smiled at her assistant. "Good morning, Lena. Anything to report?"

"Another owl came in this morning. Someone misses our client Jane quite badly."

Astoria sighed. "Perhaps I'll have a chat with her. I know she's not running from the same problem that most of our clients are - maybe she should see her post."

"That's not our usual protocol, Mrs. Malfoy," Lena said respectfully.

"I understand that, but I think she's a special case. What is Jane's schedule for today?"

Lena consulted her calendar. "She is in her healing class until lunchtime."

"Thank you Lena," Astoria said as she moved to sit at her own desk.

She spent the morning catching up on owl post - mostly boring missives having to do with their funding and a new expansion project - and by lunch time was thoroughly fed up with the monotony of it all. She threw her quill down with slightly more force than necessary, and out of the corner of her eye saw Lena smile and shake her head. Astoria didn't have to say it - by now Lena was fully aware of how much Astoria hated bureaucratic nonsense.

"I still have to write a note accepting the invitation to that Ministry charity function," she moaned.

"That will take only a moment to do," Lena said with a wave of her hand. "Count yourself lucky that we even got invited at all. Most organizations on the newer side like ours would give their left arm for an invitation."

"You're right," Astoria conceded. "Are you sure you don't want to come? I know my husband will attend if I ask him to, but I'd prefer to have another senior member of the Underground with me."

"I'm sure," Lena said. "I don't think my son would take kindly to missing his wedding."

"I suppose not," Astoria chuckled as she stood and stretched. "Do you want to get lunch?"

"Didn't you want to talk to Jane?"

"Oh! Right. I suppose I'd best do that then. Thank you, I'd forgotten."

"That's why you have me," Lena laughed and waved her away.

Jane was sitting in a small corner table when Astoria found her. "Mind if I join you again?"

"By all means," Jane said, a small smile playing on her face. Astoria was glad to see Jane had taken to the healing classes - she seemed happiest when she was focused on her passion.

"I'd like to ask you a question," Astoria said halfway through her meal.

Jane looked at her with some apprehension, but she nodded to show her consent.

"The Underground automatically confiscates all owl post, as you know," she began. "This is, of course, for our client's safety, as most are running from abusive family members or intimate relationships. But from what I can gleam from what little you've mentioned about your past, this is not the case with you. Do you - ?"

"Do I want to read my post," Jane finished for her.

Astoria looked at her. "Yes, that's what I wanted to ask you."

Jane looked away. Astoria waited for her to speak.

"No," Jane said quietly. "I left behind a lot of people I love. I'll only be tempted to go back if I hear from them and I can't put them in danger."

"I understand," Astoria said gently. "I'm always here to listen, if you ever need to talk."

"Thank you," Jane said. "I wish I could. I want to - I'm scared. I've never been the brave one. My boyfriend - ex-boyfriend now I suppose - and my friends were always the brave ones. Never allowing fear to stop them from doing what they need or want to do. And I'm not like that. They made me brave. But I'm not brave on my own."

"You are brave all on your own," Astoria said. "Perhaps not in the same way as your loved ones. But it takes bravery to start a new life away from anything and everyone you've ever known. Don't sell yourself short."

Jane nodded slowly. "Perhaps so."

A silence fell, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, as both women finished eating. Astoria kept her desire to pepper her lunch companion with questions to herself once more. She knew from experience that people didn't like to feel pushed. Jane would either feel safe enough to open up or she wouldn't; either way, Astoria would help her transition into her new life, away from the ones she loved.

Harry was rapidly becoming obsessed with the notebook. The words he'd stumbled upon that day when the bag had spilled its contents across his office floor still ran through his head. "Perhaps I'm as sick as he is..."

It wasn't strictly a notebook at all. It was a diary, clearly written by a muggle, likely the same muggle who owned the bag Colin had found. Harry had always had a hunger for a good mystery, a drive to know the things unknown; that was partly why he felt a calling to join the Aurors, even as a teenager. He knew this mystery wasn't solvable, not in the traditional sense. All he had were these words, written by an unknown man who, at least at the time of writing, lived in America. He had the man's last name, written carefully on the first page, along with a phone number long ago disconnected (Harry had checked). Who was this man? Had he actually solved this case, the one with the monster he talked about? Who was this monster?

He was so fascinated with the story of this man's life that he decided to read some of it aloud to Bill. He'd promised to visit again, but at the moment all he wanted to do was read. This way, he reasoned, he'd be able to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

Some call it a sixth sense. Others say it's magic. Some call it a vibe. Even a radar of sorts. That feeling in your gut when you know something. You know it. You don't know how you know. You have no proof. But you know it's true with every fiber of your being. Captain Keller would say "it's just good police work, good training," and dismiss me with a wave. Or he used to. With everything that's happened, I don't think he'd say that now. I think he'll believe me when I tell him. If only because he's so desperate to know what happened to his baby girl.

But I digress. Whatever people may choose to call it, I experienced it today. I don't know how I know, but this man - that look in his eyes, the way he talked. The way he moved. This man is the monster. I'm going to prove it.

Harry stopped reading. He ran his hand along the page thoughtfully. "This man's mind is a trip. Somehow I think he'd understand parts of my life - he's a police officer, an American one, though I've not read the whole thing yet so I don't know if he mentions where precisely. But I - I'm in law enforcement myself, so I think he'd get me - " Harry broke off as he looked up at Bill. The man hadn't moved, hadn't so much as made a sound, but tears flowed from the corners of his eyes; each one softly traced its way down pale cheeks to drop off the chin. "Bill - are you okay? Was it - " Harry looked down at the diary he'd been reading. "Did I make you cry because of this?"

There was no reply.

Harry left not long after that, shaken and deeply unsettled.

The sun felt warm against his back as he walked along the pathway leading away from Homes for Hope. Almost too warm; it made him want to take a nap. He saw a bench along the path and without conscious thought directed his steps toward it. Perhaps a moment in the sun would shake off the melancholy mood that hung over him like a cloud.

He had barely closed his eyes for five minutes before he heard footsteps approaching. He decided not to open his eyes, instead allowing his other senses to work. He could smell that sterile odour that seemed to be the predominant scent in the hospital mixed with something else he couldn't identify but knew what it was right away: Bill's room always had that tang in the air.

The footsteps slowed, than stopped altogether, and Harry could feel Luke's gaze on him.

"Luke," he greeted the man as he slowly opened his eyes and blinked several times as the brightness overwhelmed his pupils.

"How's it going kid," Luke welcomed him warmly. "I didn't see you inside, did you just come from visiting my Bill?"

Harry nodded, sleepiness forgotten. "He seems – I can't explain it. He doesn't move or speak and yet – today I think I made him cry. Does that mean he's healing? I don't understand."

Luke shrugged, but his eyes lit up with hope. "Sometimes I can't tell the difference between what might be progress and my own desire to see him wake up. What do you think happened, to cause a reaction like that? What were you talking to him about?"

"Colin brought home a lost journal he'd found. I know it's not right of me to read it, but I happened to accidently open it and I just - couldn't put it down once I started. And I've been thinking about it so much...I selfishly figured I'd read some aloud to Bill as a way to keep reading more of it."

Luke flashed him a bright smile. "Any sign that Bill is still with us, fighting to return to his normal self, is a good one. Perhaps reading more would help him."

"Perhaps so," Harry agreed. "Would you like to sit down?" he gestured to the empty spot next to him.

"Thanks," Luke said. "My shift just ended and I'm beat." He slumped heavily down on the bench.

"You dropped something," Harry pointed to a square white envelope that had fallen out of Luke's pocket as he'd sat down.

"So I did," Luke mused. He bent over to scoop it up and glanced at it. "My ex-girlfriend from the states," he explained. "She updates me occasionally on our daughter."

"You have a daughter?" Harry said, surprised. "How old is she?"

"A few months old. Met her Mum in America. Our short fling produced little Grace, but I had to leave them behind when I brought my Bill here."

Harry couldn't breathe. "You're going to let her grow up without a father too?"

Luke looked at him in surprise. It took Harry a moment to realize that he'd said the words much louder than intended. "Harry – "

"No – just – no – " Harry was so angry he couldn't speak. Luke kept his mouth shut and watched him with concern.

"You can't just abandon your kids after you have them!" Harry finally cried out. "She's a child! She's learning how to walk and talk and discovering the world for the first time, and you're here, with a son you abandoned years ago who isn't even awake enough to have a conversation with you! You have a second chance at raising a child and you are just repeating the mistakes of the past! What's the definition of insanity, Luke? It's doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result each time."

Luke had gone white. "It's different," he said stiffly.

"And how's that?" Harry said furiously.

"Grace's Mum is the opposite of Elizabeth! Olivia is a good mother and I know Grace will be raised properly and treated well."

"You don't think the idea of being abandoned by her father will hurt her?" Harry said angrily. "You don't think she would benefit from knowing her father gives a damn about her?"

Luke stared at him. He seemed to be attempting to keep his temper in check: Harry saw him take several deep breaths before he finally bit out, "I'm doing what's best for her. I'm not abandoning her, I'm taking care of her. And sometimes the best way to take care of someone is to leave them."

"Not when they are a child," Harry defended. "You have a responsibility to them!"

"And you would stand by this, without question, no matter the circumstances?" Luke raised his eyebrow, only adding to the skepticism in his tone.

"Yes," Harry said quickly.

Luke just looked at him. Harry looked away. Silence fell, thick with words unspoken.

"The child didn't get a choice in the matter," Harry finally said in a low voice. "You did have a choice. And the only decent choice is to raise them so that they never have to suffer for our poor choices."

Luke was quiet for a moment before he asked, "Who are we talking about here, Harry? Me...or you?"

"I don't know what you mean," Harry said, and his stomach clenched with dread.

"Don't you?" Luke questioned, and Harry could have sworn he sounded amused. "I think you know exactly what I mean."

"I don't!" Harry shouted. He got up and walked briskly away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He heard his name being shouted twice before Luke caught up with him.

"Harry, wait."

"No!" Harry shook off the hand that had reached to grasp his arm, but it wasn't Luke's arm that he saw.

"No, that's not true!" Harry shook off Ginny's hand as she touched his shoulder. She sighed and dropped her arm, but her gaze was unflinching.

"Yes it is, Harry," she said calmly. "And it's okay, I've known for awhile that you're not happy. This is simply further proof that our vision of the future is not the same."

"But it is the same!" Harry cried. "I want this life with you, Ginny! I want a house and children and you and -"

"Harry," Ginny said firmly, "You and I are not compatible. I can see how unhappy you are. Do you not feel it? Do you not see it?"

"Harry!" Luke's voice broke into the memory, and Harry blinked rapidly to clear his head. "It's not true," he muttered reflexively.

"What's not true lad?" Luke looked at him quizzically.

Harry shook his head. "It's not true," he repeated. "She said I would have left her. But I wouldn't have ever been that selfish."

"I don't follow you," Luke said. "What are you referring to?"

"Children should never have to pay for our mistakes," Harry said firmly. He turned to walk away then turned back. "I...understand," he said slowly, "but I don't agree. Your daughter should be raised to know that her Father is more than an idea or a letter that shows up randomly."

Luke simply looked back at him, and Harry knew. He didn't know how he knew, but could feel it with everything inside of him: somehow, Luke knew much more about him than he was letting on. Two can play the game, Harry thought.

He turned on his heel and walked away.