a/n: Ahh, recovering from sickness inspires thought, and thought inspires writing. But not the newspaper article and college essay writing that has been my life for the past couple weeks. Bhe. Enjoy

Gilderoy remained staring up at the ceiling into the wee hours of the day. Healer Strout kept shooting him worried glances and making tutting noises. The patient in the bed nearest him had a visitor, who was quite loud and obnoxious. But to Gilderoy, none of this existed. He kept staring at the same yellow stain on the ceiling, following its form with his eyes, trying to understand something inside of his mind which he knew he never could. And then a thought occurred to him, unbidden and chilling at once.

Was he crazy?

Gilderoy shivered and shifted just slightly on the starched white sheets, never taking his eyes from the place where the stain stood, like a statement of a mystery, something that might not even exist. And the longer he stared at the mark, the longer Gilderoy became convinced it didn't exist.

Was he crazy?

Everything up to now, all the dreams, the memories, had they existed? Or were they just figments of Gilderoy's imagination? It was too much for him, and he really wanted to sleep, and he felt as if his head ached from tearing itself apart for so long. Elleyne wasn't here either. Why had he made her go away? Would she ever come back? What if she knew he was crazy, and was only trying to make him happy by searching for a girl who…

No. She existed. She had to exist. The girl. Gilderoy clung desperately to the thought. The girl was real, he was positive of it, and if she were real than the rest could be, and he wasn't crazy.

Was he?

This torment of the mind would've gone on for forever, if Elleyne hadn't burst into the room at the moment. Spotting Gilderoy, she frowned. Something was clearly wrong. But before she could ponder it further, Gilderoy got up and stared at her with uncontained relief in his eyes, which were ringed with dark from lack of sleep.

Gilderoy stared across the room at Elleyne, ignoring the protesting dizziness of his head, which resented the sudden movement. Her robes were blue. He liked blue. A lot.

"You," he said dryly, his voice feeling like a whisper inside his throat. "Back."

Elleyne couldn't define the odd curling inside her chest, or why she couldn't speak for a breadth of time. Instead, she just nodded. And looking at Roy with his tousled blond hair and turquoise bathrobe, she wasn't sure that she should be doing this. But she knew somehow that it didn't matter, because she would.

"Roy," she began, "I-I have something to tell you."

Gilderoy just looked at her, his silence carrying to her an urge to continue.

"I have been—"

No, don't talk about his father. Not yet. Not now.

"I mean, I have found out about the girl you were talking about earlier. She's…not living anymore. I'm sorry. I don't know exactly who she was to you, but she's gone."

A long silence folded out between them, and still Gilderoy didn't speak. He didn't look like he could.

Healer Strout passed them by, chirping a greeting to Elleyne, completely oblivious to the troubled, tense aura the younger Healer was emitting.

"Her name was Vanessa Reid, and she died on December 23rd. Her apartment remains as it was, as she didn't have any sort of will. She was very young, well, you knew that, like you, that sort of y-"

She broke off when she noticed Gilderoy's expression. At the sound of the name, Gilderoy had ceased to hear Elleyne's words, as he stood in a sort of trance. Vanessa, he thought. Yes, of course.

"I need to go see her!"

"Roy, I told you she's gone," Elleyne said desperately, now looking around to make sure Healer Strout wasn't in hearing distance.

"I need to see the apartment then," Gilderoy said quietly, but firmly.

"Roy, you know that's impossible. You're a patient here…"

"Is that what I am to you?"

"What do you mean by that?" Elleyne's body tensed.

Gilderoy didn't answer. He didn't know what he meant by anything anymore. His mind was in turmoil, and despite the recent news, he had never felt as if he had known less in his life. His mind seemed to be in a constant state of suppression, and it wouldn't let him ponder the implications behind something so intangible as a name. He believed Elleyne's words, but he needed to see it for himself in order to set loose the murmuring beast in the dusty pit of his subconscious. His heart beating fast for no apparent reason, he turned to Elleyne again, and spoke softly this time, but with just as much urgency.

"I'm sorry, but I must see the apartment. I need to."

Elleyne, returning from a confused and angry silence, said "I can't do anything about that. It's still technically my off-time. You know it. Don't ask anything else from me."

Gilderoy stared at her, and she realized how cold her words must have sounded only too late.

"Please," he said. That was all, plain and simple, and painfully earnest. Elleyne turned her head away from him.

"I can't."

And she left the room, half-tripping over a chair on the way, but never turning back.

Elleyne passed a few others in the hallways as she went down the many levels to the ground floor. Everyone and everything was a barely recognizable blur, and she treated them with disinterest anyhow, only saying hello when she was saluted by another, never addressing anyone herself. Once she was out in the chilly winter air, Elleyne watched her breath dissipate in front of her a while before snapping to and apparating back home.

The house was quaint and small, and empty as always, but Elleyne couldn't find comfort in it.

"Damn it all," she muttered to herself, after pacing around her kitchen with a cup of tea in hand until she was dizzy. "Why can't I just bloody relax?"

Calm down, all right? Really, Elleyne, just do what you normally do. Get a nice book, or magazine, maybe some biscuits, and get a fire going. Calm. Down. And the house is no colder than it ever was.

This last thought surprised her a bit, but now she realized her house was cold. It had never been this cold, she was sure of it.

"Incendio," she said quietly, flicking her wand at the fireplace in the adjoining room. Flames came shooting up from the wood, licking at the brick walls of their prison greedily.

Even when Elleyne had settled into her favorite chair, this week's issue of Witch Weekly spread out in front of her, she found herself unable to concentrate.

So, find something else to do.

Is there anything else!

Elleyne let the thought hang in the air for a moment, and then the answer came to her.

No, not really. How is that possible?

Well, I do work a lot. Sweet Merlin, that's all I do…all I do is work, and read magazines that I know are full of meaningless drabble, and read books, eat and sleep. And I haven't seen my sister for two years, or anyone else really, outside of work…

Elleyne tipped her head back and forced herself to breathe, to think rationally. She'd had a tough day. She was just driving herself insane, it was stupid really…

"How have you been keeping yourself?" Dumbledore's polite, quiet tone inquired from behind his desk.

"Just fine, just fine," Elleyne whispered under the crackling of the flames.

The blue eyes just twinkled at her knowingly.

When Elleyne went to bed that night, prepared to go back to work the next day, and slept fine.