Chapter 14

Harry stalked through the halls of Hogwarts castle, growing more annoyed with each step. If anyone asked, he'd have said he was doing his rounds and making sure everything in the castle was in order. But none of the adults he passed were even willing to walk on the same side of the hallway as him, much less say anything to him. Which probably should have been his first sign that something was amiss.

It wasn't until Professor Farley saw him, made a startled noise, and quickly turned to walk down a side hallway, that he took a moment to pause. He peered over at a freshly polished suit of armor and noticed that a smoky purple mist was venting off of him.

He closed his eyes and focused, taking three deep breaths before opening them. The smoke was gone when he looked at the reflection. He took another deep breath before continuing on with his rounds.

Harry had to wonder just what the other professors thought as they saw him venting purple magic. And if he'd been doing enough of it to cause others to subconsciously avoid the area. The irradiated magic tended to have that effect on people if they wandered into the vicinity of it.

The professors must have come to investigate, noticed it was him, and thought better of it. He figured it would lead to awkward questions come morning. In the end, he knew he had no choice but to deal with it when the time came.

His pretend rounds started in the dungeons. On the far side of them, as far away from the Slytherin common room as one could get. Almost no one, not even students looking for a quiet place to spend quality time with their boyfriends or girlfriends, ever ventured down that far.

He'd often found himself wondering why that was. It was easily one of, if not the most secluded part of the castle. And while he knew that the prefects were supposed to patrol it, it was fairly common knowledge that most ignored it.

It was dark, and not as clean as the rest of the castle. And somehow oddly damp. Which Harry assumed had to do with the fact that the tunnels led under the lake. It housed a few private potions workshops, but they were more or less abandoned. If one had a need for a place to brew potions, it was far easier to use one of the excess classrooms.

That was, perhaps, why Emily had commandeered one of the rooms. He'd found her in it a couple of times. She wasn't brewing anything as far as he could tell. She'd taken the small room and transformed it into more of a study nook. It housed a couch, an ice box, and a bookshelf. A blanket and pillow adorned the couch.

He'd meant to ask her what was wrong with the guest room he'd allocated her, and why she spent so much time in the dungeons rather than in it. He'd opened the ice box to see what she'd considered worthy of chilling. He was moderately surprised to find no alcohol inside. Instead there was a small assortment of meats and cheeses, a couple of apples, various juices, and a jar of peanut butter.

Why she felt peanut butter needed to be refrigerated, he had no idea. And honestly, may have warranted a more interesting question than why she'd decided to use the room. He figured that he'd end up asking her about that far sooner than anything else.

Either way, he left the dungeons and moved up to the ground floor. He couldn't sense her anywhere. But the both of them had long since learned to suppress their magic if they wanted to. So if she didn't want him to find her, she could hide herself easily enough.

His rounds on the ground floor were little more than a circle around the other castle. He peered into a few of the class rooms and gave a cursory look at the Great Hall. After that he debated going toward the kitchen but he didn't feel like dealing with the school elves so instead he ventured out onto the grounds.

A saunter around the lake was an easy enough way to kill a half hour or so. There were a few students milling outside in the cool air watching the sunset. It appeared to be entirely couples, but none of them were doing anything that he felt was inappropriate so he didn't bother scolding any of them on his walk.

They were all smart enough to be back inside the castle after the sun set so he had no actual reason to scold them while he made his second loop around the lake. It was about as productive as the first trip around the lake.

His next path took him around the guest suites. This was the most useless of any sort of patrol he could do because of the multitude of charms on the specific wing of the castle that prevented any students from venturing there, and immediately informed him if they did.

So far in his time as headmaster it had only triggered once. And that had been a lost first year that Neville had guided to her next classes. Given that even the Marauder's Map didn't have a perfectly accurate mapping of the suites or the Professor's quarters, he figured it was likely to be one of only times it triggered.

As a lark he'd investigated the charms on the area before term started. They were quite well done. At their core they were rather similar to the anti-Muggle charms on the castle but the variant focused almost entirely on students.

There were a series of caveats in the charms that intrigued him. Charming something in such a way was incredibly difficult and only barely touched on during the Hogwarts curriculum as it was almost never actually needed. They were some of the most complex charms he'd ever seen with an amazing amount of lasting power. He'd spent a few minutes trying to figure out who was responsible for them.

He'd thought it might have been one of the founders but as far as he could tell they dated to the early 1400s which meant they were well after the founding of the school. Phyllida Spore, the young headmistress at the time seemed to be the best candidate. But as far as he could tell she hadn't been known much for her magical prowess and instead her skill with herbs and potions more than anything else.

A look back at Hogwarts, A History didn't help his cause either. But he'd only spent about fifteen minutes paging through the book, letting his eyes scan over the names of people who were at the school during those years. None of them had any specific charms related accomplishments. So really, it was a bit of a mystery. And one that he let fill his mind when it was otherwise unoccupied. If he was being honest, he didn't really care one way or the other about the answer. But it was something to think about that wasn't his normal troubles.

He arrived at the door he was looking for and knocked once. He didn't hear anything from inside, but the suites were magically covered enough that it meant nothing. He counted to ten, as slowly as he could manage, and willed the door to open.

It didn't.

He had the authority to make the door open. He could make any door in the castle open if he wanted to. It was one of the perks of being the headmaster. Locks, passwords, anything, didn't matter to him as long as he was in the castle. So he could have easily gained entrance into the room before him. But to do so would be downright rude.

He knocked again, much louder, the impact of his knuckles on the wooden door sending jolts through his hands. Again, there wasn't any answer. He took a deep breath and figured it was better to assume that she wasn't in the room, rather than outright ignoring him. He knew that there was an equal chance for either, but one at least gave him a modicum of hope.

So he stalked his way out of the guest wing, taking the stairs down the tower two at a time until he was back on the landing. He didn't have much more of an idea as to where she might be. The only real solution was to explore.

Which is exactly what he did.

He proceeded up the North Tower, ignoring Sir Cadogan and his insistence on joining him on his quest. He ducked away from the knight and continued through the halls and rooms, finding very few people out and about in the early evening hours.

He checked most of the secluded areas, like the owlery, the tops of the towers, and any seldom visited parts of the castle, figuring she would prefer to be alone if at all possible. He had no luck in any of the spots he could come up with. It was growing infuriating rather quickly. But he did his best to not let his anger shift back into control. The last thing he wanted was to start glowing and scare any students more than he normally did. His mood deteriorated with every step.

The impromptu interviews with a few hand-picked reporters earlier in the day hadn't helped. Hermione had done her best, he was sure, of vetting the reporters she'd allow to talk to him. The problem was, well, that Hermione was Hermione.

She wouldn't ever tolerate incompetence. Even among her friends she had high standards. So she certainly hadn't picked her reporters based on ones that would ask easy questions and write fluff pieces. He wondered if the thought had even crossed her mind.

No, instead of people that would barely ask him questions and certainly not follow up if he gave a unsatisfactory answer she'd sent two award-winning journalists, one up and comer, and one old hand. All of them worked independently of any of the major papers. Two of them were known mostly as investigative journalists who tended to research topics thoroughly before publishing an article on them. Sometimes they took years to come up with anything.

The youngest, an early twenties male with dark features and a joyless expression had just returned from a Muggle expedition to Annapurna. He'd been the first to arrive at their little parlay and chatted briefly with Harry about it. He'd gone up to the top during a run of unusually calm weather.

While the Muggles with him celebrated he explored the summit. His true mission had been to investigate whether or not the frequent avalanches were the result of an ancient curse, as some old myths claimed. Annoyingly, he wouldn't tell Harry about his findings, citing that he'd have to wait until it was published like everyone else.

The problem was the magical mystery of it all amused Harry and he immediately wanted to know more about it. He couldn't help it. He wanted to go and see for himself. Even if he knew that was stupid. He couldn't get up there the Muggle way, like this man had, without doing some training, but there had to be magical ways around that. And dammit, he was Harry Potter, which had to count for something.

Before he could think for too long about that the rest of the party had shown up and Harry, deciding to play the good host rather than anything else, made sure food and drinks adorned his office. Only two of the reporters bothered to eat any of it, but all of them at least grabbed something to drink. Although, annoyingly, they stayed away from the alcohol. And since they weren't drinking, Harry figured he shouldn't drink, assuming that it would wind up in the articles they would write.

He could see Hermione's annoyed face rather clearly if she had to come and scold him for drinking well before noon on the day of an interview. Even if it would have made the entire situation far more tolerable.

He took no food and a butterbeer and sat back behind his desk as they set up their recording spells and notes. Once they were ready, the questions came fast and hard. And often in a very repetitive manner as if they wanted him to verify exactly what he'd just said.

Yes, he'd gone to France. Why shouldn't he? He was Harry Potter and something destructive happened that needed to be investigated. Of course he thought he could help. Better than the ministry officials already there from like six different countries? What kind of a question was that? Of course he did. Hell, he'd proven that. Multiple times.

Did he want to expound on that? Not really. Most of it was more or less public record. Well, public record outside of England. Go ask the Canadians about the incident in Vancouver or the Japanese about his school. Or go talk to the locals in Bihar. Or hell, even Neville would probably give them an accurate account of the Oslo Incident if they wanted.

Well fine, sure, he could talk about it if they wanted to. But were they here to talk about the things he'd done in the past or would they prefer to focus on the problem at hand, Gellert Grindelwald?

Both? Ugh, really? Hadn't Hermione said this would be quick? What do you mean most of the day? Well fine, lets get it over with.

And so they asked question after question about things they'd heard, rumors that they'd tried to investigate but had come up empty, and so many more things. Each question made him more annoyed. It shouldn't, he knew. This was something he'd have to deal with more and more as his life went on. But he still hated every minute of it. It wasn't until the fourth Butterbeer that they even got back to the conversation that Harry thought this was supposed to be about in the first place.

Yes, he went to France. And yes, he did it suspecting foul play. How could he not? Grindelwald threw his damn prison through a Muggle town, killing thousands. Then another Muggle town freaking explodes and everyone wrings their hands about it.

Could he prove Grindelwald was behind it? Of course he couldn't. Or he'd have done so publicly. But it was the only thing that made sense. No, the Muggle attack didn't make sense. It was far too clean, far too precise, and far too ordered to be perpetrated by Muggles. That wasn't how their weapons worked. No, most of their stuff was designed to do as much damage as possible while causing as much mayhem as possible. This had been done with so much precision that it could only be magic.

And no, the Iranian group that the Muggles were saying claimed responsibility couldn't have done it, if they even existed. Why would he question their existence? Why, maybe because it wasn't that easy to, you know, totally vanish a group of people without any hint of them. No, pulling that off would have taken a great deal of magical power.

What do you mean 'impossible?' No. It wouldn't be impossible at all. Neither spell would be impossible. Difficult sure. Easier with multiple people as well. But it's perfectly possible, thank you very much.

Could he do it? Of course he could do it. Honestly, both spells were similar enough to be considered variants of each other. The mass vanishing curse would be easier to perform, especially for a group of people, as the goal is to just target a specific magical sense and get rid of it.

It was mid sentence that he realized they were all scribbling furiously on the pads of paper, noting down the specifics as he mentioned them. When he stopped talking they all looked up at him in unison. Harry raised his brows at it.

Just because he could figure out a way to do it, didn't mean he did it.

Of course not, they assured him. They understood that. But the magical theory was fascinating.

Not as fascinating as avalanches on Annapurna.

It at least got him a smile from the youngest journalist. But it didn't get him the truth of that story, or even a reprieve from the questioning. Instead, after only a little hesitation, they continued to press him on the spells and the magic. It took the better part of an hour for them to be satisfied with the magical theory behind it all.

The eldest journalist even convinced Harry to show them a variant of the vanishing spell using a bunch of grapes scattered around the room. It was an easy demonstration, taking only a couple of minutes for him to prepare the room for it. They made him close his eyes as they each hid a trio of grapes.

When they'd finished they had him vanish them all with one spell. He did it on his first try, without ever opening his eyes to see where the grapes were. It was an impressive bit of magic, they thought. Harry was less convinced.

Still, it would be much harder to do with people, they argued. Harry shrugged his shoulders. It wouldn't be much different than grapes, really. The only thing worth thinking about when performing it would be if you had specific people in the same area you didn't want to vanish. Having to pick out certain signatures while performing the mass spell would make it astronomically more difficult.

Impossible? Again no. It would still be possible. Just harder. The reporters scribbled more notes as he talked and again Harry felt like he must have been saying the wrong things. And that he was going to get a lecture from Hermione when they published their stories. But he didn't see much of a reason to be dishonest about it all.

It would be possible to vanish select people from a group, all in one spell, if one wanted to. It would be considerably easier to vanish all of the people. If he were going to cast such a spell he would make sure that no one he cared about was in the vicinity. It was as simple as that.

Simple to him, maybe, one of the journalists scoffed. Harry could only shrug his shoulders. He countered with a question of if it was Dumbledore telling them this, would they be as skeptical.

They didn't get him an answer. Instead they turned the questioning back to his time in France. He'd gone there to do what, exactly? Help, obviously. He was strong, talented, clever, and he wanted to see if there was anything that he could do.

And he wasn't going to say that he wasn't interested in seeing just what the area looked like. You never could tell from rumors and he was perfectly capable of getting there without much fanfare. There were some things, afterall, that you needed to see with your own eyes.

That drew some nods from the journalists but not much of a comment. Instead the eldest one had asked if he went there to search out Grindelwald. Harry shrugged his shoulders. Which led to another of the journalists asking the same question.

No. Not really.

'Not really' is not an answer.

Well, it probably isn't. He'd be there, that much was a certainty. In what form? Who knows. Grindelwald had a penchant for disguising himself. But he'd be there. Or at least Harry assumed. Like him, he'd want to see it with his own eyes. And he'd need to be there to gauge the reaction of the various governments.

And it was Grindelwald that approached him. He'd cornered him and Neville almost as soon as they'd apparated into the area. He'd approached them with a group of lackeys, whose identities Harry had not been able to confirm.

The journalists nodded along with his story. They knew all of that already. Grindelwald had admitted to all of it in the expose that Rita had published. He'd even named the companions, two men also hiding under the guises of others, a Jochen and a Hans. Of course, they claimed that they were ambushed by Harry and Neville Longbottom.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. He'd walked away from the makeshift camp where the volunteers were staging things. He was sure others would vouch for that. The Weasley twins saw him leave, as did a score of other people.

At the time of his arrival the volunteers were preparing dinner and he'd already ate. He'd seen no real reason to deprive them of their food. Instead he figured that he could wander around and see if he could gain any insight.

Grindelwald and the two others had followed them out of the camp. Harry had led them to the edge of the area and Neville had called out Grindelwald. They'd fought. It ended with Harry and Neville retreating.

So, the oldest journalist had interrupted him, you admit that you lost the fight.

Of course. Why would he deny it? There were people there that saw the end of the fight. Or at least he thought so. Grindelwald got the better of him in that engagement.

But if that was the case then what hope did they have if Grindelwald did mean them harm? Harry chuckled at that. And provided a counter.

If Harry could do the spells in question, and Grindelwald had beaten him in a magical duel, then shouldn't that prove that Grindelwald could use all of those same spells as well?

He'd thought he had them with that. But all four of them seemed skeptical. It was at that point that a trio of school elves came in with a late lunch. There were only a few questions as they ate. And after the meal they'd finally run out of questions. Harry thought he'd been nice enough, formal enough, and hadn't lost his temper more than, well, once or twice. Maybe three times.

But the journalists seemed to enjoy themselves. He'd been personable, he thought. And he'd been honest. Well, as honest as he could be about the entire situation without mentioning that he'd immediately gone to resurrect Lord Voldemort after his battle with Grindelwald. He supposed he owed something to both Farha Patel and Poppy Pomfrey for not letting that proverbial cat out of the bag.

All-in-all he thought the impromptu interview went well. Even if he'd have hoped for less competent journalists. But he should have known that Hermione wouldn't have gone the puff piece route.

Anyway, as the journalists started to get twitchy, no doubt thinking of the amount of time they'd have to write a passable article before their publication deadline. And it was clear that all of them knew they had to get their work published by the next day, or there wouldn't be much of a point to all of this.

That too, he figured, had to be part of Hermione's plan. If four separate publications all sent out four articles about Harry Potter, well, that should help get his story out there with a wide variety of readers.

While the publications they sold their works to would likely be annoyed at four similar articles from four similar journalists popping up on the same day, the journalists themselves were all getting a byline related to Harry Potter. Something that they would undoubtedly feel indebted to Hermione for.

He had to admire her for it. She'd pocketed a quartet of potential allies with almost no effort on her part past some vetting. And she'd done it all under the guise of him making up for a mistake.

Anyway, when it was clear they wanted to go he wrapped up and wished them good luck with their stories. He thought he won some points by insisting that his office was always open if they had more follow up questions. Whether or not that was a truthful statement would depend on the follow up questions, but either way they seemed to appreciate the sentiment.

He ended the meeting with a comment to the youngest journalist that he hoped he'd manage to wrangle up an advanced copy of his article on Annapurna. The young man looked a little surprised that Harry had remembered that through the course of their entire day but gave him a curt nod before leaving his office.

It was at that point when Harry realized he hadn't seen Emily in, well, a couple of days. Which seemed unusual. He figured that leaving her to her own devices was just about the worst thing he could do for Hogwarts. And set out to find her to make sure she hadn't taken up maiming students.

And that's where he was, hours later, practically convinced that she'd taken the run away option that she'd spoken of. She'd joked she'd flee to Canada. He wondered how long it would take him to find her there. He'd guessed he could search the entire country in ten days.

He let his patrol take him to the library. He walked through the stacks, peering down each aisle as he moved. There wasn't anyone left in the library at the hour. Even the librarian had retired for the evening.

He paced twice around the library to make sure he hadn't missed anyone hiding on one side or the other of the large bookcases. Once he was sure there wasn't anyone he wandered into the restricted section.

The higher stacks made it more difficult to scan the area. He wandered down each aisle once more, turning and wandering back every time. It was obvious that there wasn't anyone in the restricted section at that point, but he decided to be thorough about it anyway.

A half hour later he left the library, every bit as annoyed as when he entered it. He made his way down a hallway that led to most of the classrooms, fuming in his own head as he cursed himself for his inability to find one woman.

A giggle from one of the classrooms caught his attention. Followed by a sharp gasp. He sighed and stared at the classroom door. It was, rather obviously, closed. Another soft noise followed the gasp and he sighed to himself.

The door was locked. But as soon as his hand touched the knob it clicked and he opened it without fanfare. Inside, a Slytherin seventh year knelt before a Hufflepuff fifth year. She had his tie around her neck, but that was all that adorned her upper body. The boy was shirtless as well and the Slytherin traced her lips around the top of his jeans.

Harry sighed. He assumed, incorrectly, the noise would have been loud enough to snap them out of their romantic fervor. Part of him wished that they'd at least had been smart enough to use a silencing charm before fooling around.

"Ahem," he said as the Slytherin unbuttoned the Hufflepuff's jeans. Both shot straight up. The girl grabbed one of their shirts and pulled it to cover her chest.

"Professor Potter," the Hufflepuff gasped in shock.

"Well, you've both earned detention," Harry said, wondering who he'd pawn it off on. Their heads of house was the easiest solution, of course.

"We, uh," the girl started but Harry shook his head.

"Get dressed and we'll get back to your common rooms," Harry said. He shifted to his side and leaned against the door, turning his gaze down the hallway to give them a modicum of privacy. He wondered if he should take points as well, as was customary. To their credit, they did not comment and they approached the door after a few moments. It seemed easiest to just leave it at detention and call it a day.

He walked them back to their common rooms in silence. Both were flushed crimson, clearly embarrassed by being caught. Still, the Slytherin shot him far too many side-eyed glances for his liking.

Once they were safely back in their common rooms he continued his rounds, hoping that any other students interested in fornicating were more discreet or, even better, not anywhere near where he would wander.

Eventually he passed the infirmary. He paused for a moment and then shrugged. There seemed little reason to not check. He knew she wasn't having the best of times in her new body. Maybe she'd stopped in to try to get something to help.

Of course, Pomfrey wouldn't have been thrilled with that. And Harry still hadn't gotten around to replacing her after Hermione had talked her into staying until another suitable candidate could be located. He'd have to bump that up on his list of things to accomplish in the next few days.

Which also reminded him that he had to talk to Hermione about Pomfrey's pension. Technically she was still two years away from getting the full one but he wanted to just give it to her and call it a day. He didn't figure that Hermione would argue with him about it, but it was still customary to approve it with the ministry. He figured he should at least do some things through the proper channels. It might give him more leeway when he decided to ignore them.

Granted, the entire train of thought only served to remind him that he needed to review budgetary things again, causing him to groan audibly as he pushed open the door to the infirmary.

"What did you do to yourself this time?" the nurse asked. His first instinct was to make a joking comment but as his eyes rose to the nurse he could do little more than stare.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked. Priya Patel smiled at him from across the infirmary. She wore her lime St. Mungo's healer robe and was holding a cup of tea in her hands as he entered. Harry found his eyes drawn to the silver chain around her neck.

"I volunteered," she said, sipping her tea.

"You…volunteered?" Harry repeated. Priya nodded.

"Yes, that's what I said. We heard Pomfrey was looking for a change of scenery. I can't imagine why," she said, rolling her eyes to emphasize her sarcasm. "And Healer Grace asked if anyone would be willing to volunteer to allow Pomfrey to get started at the hospital sooner. I was willing."

"You hate being a school nurse," Harry said.

"No I don't."

"Yes. You do. You told me."

"I was being bitchy," Priya shrugged.

"You don't want to do this," Harry said.

"I do not want this to be my career," Priya corrected. "I'd much rather be in the emergency room than the school infirmary."

"So why are you here?" he asked.

"I told you, I volunteered," Priya said with a bright smile as she sipped more tea.

"Why would you do that?" Harry asked, feeling himself grow defensive for no particular reason.

"I felt like I could use a change of pace," she said. "I suspect you'll have a few of us cycling in and out in the next few months. I doubt you'll have a problem with that."

"I don't," Harry said. There wasn't much of a reason to argue with her about it. And, honestly, it was a better solution than anything that had presented itself so far. Pomfrey got what she wanted, more or less, and he could put off hiring a nurse for a few more weeks. He knew Hermione had to be involved in it somehow, too, given that she hadn't presented him with any candidates yet.

"Good. Tea?" she asked, nodding toward a pot sitting across from her on the table. He recognized the familiar chai scent of her favorite brew.

"Last time I accepted tea from you it resulted in an erection lasting longer than four hours," he commented. He peered at the pot, causing it to float into the air and pour out another cup of tea, which floated toward him. He plucked it out of the air and took a ship.

"If I recall, your personal physician took care of that problem for you," Priya said, the corners of her mouth curving upward as she spoke. Harry sipped his tea and shook his head.

"No, she fell asleep. I ended up stunning myself and hoping for the best in the morning," Harry said.

"That's right," Priya giggled. "I forgot about that! You still loved it."

"It was one of the more pleasant and more frustrating experiences of my life, yes," Harry said, peering down at the tea as he sipped it, memories of the last time he'd been in a hospital with Priya rising to the front of his mind. He found it suddenly harder to speak than it should have been.

"Mine too, you know. I was sore for days," Priya teased.

"So you've mentioned," Harry said. They lapsed into silence, each sipping their tea as they did. Eventually, as she took another sip, Harry broke it.

"So why are you here?" he asked, trying to sound more serious than he felt as an ache continued to build in his chest. She raised her brows as she finished the sip.

"I told you," Priya said.

"You told me the excuse you used to get here, and to stay here. You have not told me your actual reasoning for being here," Harry said. She stared at him, her expression blank for a few moments, before shifting her gaze to a clock on the wall. He noticed she wasn't wearing her silver watch. His eyes flashed to his own.

"I'd tell you, but I'll be late for my date if I don't leave now," she said. She produced her wand and with a flourish her robes shifted into a little black dress. Harry let his eyes slide over her bronze skin, following the arch of her neck, then the silver necklace down to where it rested between her breasts.

"Eyes up here, Harry," she said.

"You have a date?" he frowned.

"In about fifteen minutes in Hogsmeade," she said. She waved her wand once more, casting a spell that would notify her if anyone entered the infirmary in her absence and putting an elf on duty in the event of an emergency. "Be a gentleman and escort me?"

"With who?" he asked, following her out of the infirmary.

"Escort me there and find out," Priya smirked at him, spinning around and walking backward toward the entrance hall.

"I'm…busy," he said. But her ruse had worked. He wanted to know. Still, he could just spy on her. Except that made him feel like a worse person than he was.

"No you aren't," she responded. "And we need to catch up anyway."

"Priya," he started.

"Stop complaining and come with me," she ordered. Part of him didn't want to. The larger part of him; however, remembered every bit about her and wanted nothing more than to stay by her side. So he made the rather stupid decision of following her.

She had a Thestral carriage waiting for her at the entrance and they sat next to each other and it moved toward Hogsmeade at a leisurely pace. They didn't say much, and Harry found himself pondering just how it had all ended in that stupid hospital room.

It had been a fairly normal day, far longer into their engagement than he'd cared to admit. But somehow planning the wedding never really seemed to be the priority. Part of him wondered if he should ask if she wanted to head over to the equivalent of a register office and make it official while worrying about the party later. But that didn't feel right so he never asked.

He cooked dinner after returning from his school. It wasn't anything fancy, just baked chicken with some vegetables. He fully expected her to call it bland and boring, but, well, it was.

She hadn't commented at all. She'd merely stared at the food with a blank expression before slowly eating her serving. They were quiet through dinner, sitting at their dining bar. Eventually, it had been too much for Harry and he'd asked what was wrong. She'd pressed her lips together before answering him.

She hadn't been taking contraceptives without telling him for, well, a while, she admitted. It took a moment for her words to sink in. And then his chest swelled in anticipation of her next words.

But she wasn't pregnant. That was her point. They'd been, well, as active as they ever were during that time. And nothing had come of it. She'd finally gone to a fertility healer to run some tests that day.

And?

And as best as the healer could tell she was perfectly healthy and everything was functioning exactly as it should be. She'd passed all of the general tests with flying colors. Sure, she could take some potions for it if she wanted to but the healer doubted they'd do her any good.

So after some rather brief discussion he'd gone with her the next day to the same healer and gone through his own battery of tests. The results were clear pretty much immediately. The results weren't normal, they seemed almost blocked and covered. But they were clear nonetheless. He was the problem.

They were quiet the entire way home. Harry felt an odd sense of emptiness in him. One that he couldn't quite place. As he reflected on it he figured he knew the cause. Whatever he'd taken into himself at Nagasaki must have been the cause. But he couldn't think of a way around that without releasing it back into the world around him.

They didn't talk much when they returned home. And they did little more than cuddle that evening. He heard her sniffling but didn't have the heart to say anything. She'd always wanted children, she'd talked about it rather a lot. And if the healer was right, he couldn't give her that.

The next few weeks seemed colorless as they went through the motions of life. It wore on each of them. And, in the end, they grew further apart than they had in a long time. Neither of them had been able to come to terms with it. And it hadn't helped that they'd been unable to talk about it. The words just never came.

In the end, Harry knew he couldn't give her what she wanted. He'd listened to her talk about it more often than he could count. She spoke about the longing of children, of the primal nature of it all in a way that was hypnotizing.

He had a hard time admitting it to himself, but he figured he pushed her away more than anything. He'd told her, through both their tears, that they'd needed time apart. That they weren't what each other needed.

He tried to act like he was being noble. Like he was giving her a chance at a life she actually wanted. At the life that he now knew he couldn't give her. He'd willed himself to believe he was acting in everyone's best interest.

Deep down he knew he was being a coward and running away. He'd left for London weeks later. It had been Avery's idea. He'd used the excuse of wanting to show Fumiko his home. But Harry knew better. They all knew he needed to get out of Japan. It all reminded him too much of what he'd foolishly given up.

The Thestral carriage came to a stop near the entrance to the main street in Hogsmeade. Priya waited for him to help her out of the carriage. She didn't need his assistance, but she was being oddly playful for someone with a date that evening.

For the entire carriage ride he'd talked himself into immediately taking it back to Hogwarts once he was out of her presence. But she made him walk with her down the street, across a side street, and to a small house that served as a romantic restaurant. Not the type of place Harry would have thought of for a first date. Which sent another pang through his chest as he stopped outside the door.

"So is he here yet?" he asked.

"Yes," Priya said, peering into the large picture window that dominated the front of the building.

"Where is he?" Harry asked, peering over her shoulder and feeling the jealousy rise in him once more.

"Behind me," Priya said. Harry spun around and saw no one else on the street behind him. When he turned back to face her she was stifling a giggle.

"Funny," he said, trying, and failing, to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"Don't be a prat," she countered. "Have dinner with me."

"Priya," he said.

"What?" she countered.

"I can't give you what you want," he said.

"You're an idiot," she sighed. She moved to the entrance of the restaurant and he couldn't resist. He followed her in. It wasn't until they were seated at a corner booth that he bothered saying anything else.

"Well I can't," he said.

"I want you, you idiot. If you know anyone else who can give me that, please point them my way. I'm sure they'll be easier to deal with," Priya countered.

"I don't want to fight," Harry sighed, sensing where this conversation was heading.

"I do," she said, her voice staying perfectly calm. "But here isn't the place where I should scream at you."

"Well, at least I'll be saved from that embarrassment," he said as a waitress left menus. Priya ordered a Bordeaux.

"For now," she said.

"What are we doing?" he asked.

"We're going to enjoy a romantic dinner and talk," Priya said. The waitress returned with the wine they'd ordered.

"About what?" he asked, finding his nerves were rising with the situation as Priya stared at him, the candle light from the table flickering in her eyes.

"Well, your problems will probably be easier to sort out than mine, so we should go there first," Priya said.

"My problems?" Harry asked.

"Do you have any real issue with me working as the school's nurse?" she asked.

"Not if it makes you happy. Which I don't think it does," Harry said.

"Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for things that we love," Priya said.

"You should not have to sacrifice anything for me," Harry countered. Priya rolled her eyes at him and took a sip of the wine.

"Great. Well that's settled then. I'm your new nurse for the time being. I assure you that I'm going to do it for the minimum amount of time required. Hopefully that makes you feel better about the entire situation," Priya said. Harry looked away from her and took a sip of his own wine.

"Fine," he said. He wondered if she'd approached Hermione before him. Or if Priya had gone through the ministry to secure this. Or if it had purely been the hospital. He frowned to himself at the different possibilities. Somehow, though, he suspected it had been her idea.

"Now why were you stalking around the castle like a deranged glowing cat?" Priya asked.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, three people came to ask me what could cause a flaring purple glow after seeing you. And it was pretty obvious you were in one of your moods. So, what's going on?" Priya asked. "And does the risotto or the pork sound better?"

"I was going to get the pork," Harry said.

"Hmm," Priya frowned.

"Or the halibut," he added.

"Mmm," Priya entoned. "Split some bruschetta?"

"Meh," Harry said.

"The duck dumplings?"

"Sure."

"So why were you walking around the castle like you were ready to blow it up?" she asked, putting her own menu down.

"I was looking for something," Harry said. "And was growing rather annoyed that I wasn't finding it."

"Emily," Priya corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"You weren't looking for something. You were looking for someone. You were looking for Emily," Priya said.

"Well, yes," he said.

"Hmm," Priya entoned again, turning to her wine once more as the waitress returned. She ordered the pork and the dumplings so he ordered the halibut.

"It's not what you think," Harry said. "I don't like leaving her alone. I still don't fully trust her."

"Yet you don't think she can hurt you," Priya said. He'd explained it to her, some binding with some ring, it had all gone over her head. Either way, he thought she was literally incapable of harming him. Priya doubted it.

"She can't," Harry said. "But she's still dangerous and vindictive. She could do something stupid to get back at me. I don't know. I don't trust her."

"Well, you're not going to find her at the castle," Priya said. She leaned back in her chair and peered at him as if gauging his reaction.

"Why not?" he asked. "Where is she?"

"I sent her to Iran."

"You did what?" he said. He hadn't realized just how much he'd raised his voice until he noticed that a few of the other patrons were staring at them. Priya sipped her wine and waited for the attention to fade away.

"I sent her to Iran," she repeated.

"Sent her? How would you send her anywhere? What happened?" Harry asked. Priya merely smiled at him.

"Like I said. We need to talk."

Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I do appreciate all of the support I get. If you'd like to support me further you can do so on PAT RE ON at TE7Writes. The next two chapters of CTS are already live there as well as the opening chapter of my next fic.

Thanks again and have a great day!