Chapter Twenty-Six: Complications

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"... 'Of course Sirius didn't set his house on Fiendfyre!'"

There was a chortle around the table.

"And Robards really believes that Grimmauld Place was cursed and mounted a defense against you on its own?" Hermione asked, frowning. "He didn't even ask to check Sirius's wand?"

Harry shook his head, his grin fading. "No, I don't reckon he wanted to accuse a Senior Auror of lying and concealing evidence. That would be—"

"Grounds for a sacking," Hermione said, in a very serious voice. "You might even be brought up before the Wizengamot, Harry."

Harry said nothing, glancing down at his half-empty teacup.

"The adjoining houses have been condemned, and there's debris and damage for two square miles," Hermione said into the silence. "Not to mention the half dozen Muggles in hospital. Their media had an absolute field day with it. We've been dealing with it all day. I'm glad we got the horcrux, but this was a disaster. We've got to be more careful."

"Hermione," Harry said reasonably. "Sirius saved my life. What would you have me do? Throw him under the Knight Bus?"

Hermione sighed. "No, of course not. But, Harry, honestly…" She trailed off, seemingly deep in thought.

"Because you know," Harry continued, his voice growing hard, "that if Robards thought Sirius burned his house down just for the hell of it while threatening the lives of Muggles and the Statue of Secrecy, he would have ended up back in Azkaban."

"I know." Hermione frowned. "I didn't say—"

"And I would never do that to Sirius. Never."

"Harry, I know." She ran a weary hand through her messy hair. "Honestly, I know. I'm obviously glad you're all right and Sirius isn't in trouble. It's just… We'll have to get the sword in order for next time, that's all. You do have an idea why it didn't work for you, don't you?"

"It's my fault," Ella cut in, feeling profoundly guilty about it. She drew in a breath, which seemed to stab her a bit on the way in. "I really dropped the ball on this one. I forgot about the doe and Snape and the goddamn pond. I'm so sorry, Harry." She had already apologized twice, but neither time had actually served to alleviate the guilt. This one didn't either.

Harry shook his head. "It isn't, El. Honestly." He turned to her, kissing her cheek.

She said nothing, staring down at the wooden grain of the table. It didn't make sense. The sword belonged to Harry, pond or not. He was the bloody Heir of Gryffindor after all. Why had it gone so badly?

"We'll sort it out," Harry said, brushing her hand until she glanced back at him. "Look, we didn't expect it to be easy. The important thing is no one was seriously hurt, and we got the locket. Sword or not."

And as he said it, he managed another grin, looking happier than he had in days. A feat, considering what the horcrux had put him through yesterday. Not that he had said one word about it since she'd broken the drawing room windows and they'd pulled him out of the house. Ella bit her lip, wondering why she couldn't quite get on board with that. Happy Harry was certainly better than Brooding Harry. She just wasn't sure he'd stick around once the elation from destroying the horcrux wore off. What she really wanted was Honest Harry.

"We all read the book," Daniyel added, cutting into the runaway train that had become her thought process. "None of us put two and two together."

"Still, I should've prepared Harry better. This is on me."

"Then it's on me, too," Hermione said, finally dropping her Hermione-ish tone. She rubbed wearily at her eyes. "I've only just read it, after all. It didn't occur to me either that Harry didn't reclaim the sword under conditions of valor."

A silence settled around the table, each of them deep in thought. Finally, Ron broke it.

"So we put Harry in a dangerous situation then, don't we? So he can win the sword back over. How'd he do it the first time?"

"He jumped into an icy pond in the middle of winter to retrieve it after Snape planted it there," Ella muttered. "In short."

"Right, he nearly froze and drowned," Robert said. "I suppose those were the conditions required. Although…" He trailed off, his expression thoughtful.

"He didn't actually reclaim it." Hermione frowned. She glanced at Robert before addressing the table at large. "Actually, Ron, it was you. Well, not you, but… You pulled Harry out and saved him. Gained the allegiance of the sword. And destroyed the locket."

Ron grinned. "I like the sound of that. Harry, mate, you fancy a swim, so I can pull you out?"

"Just a second," Robert said. He turned to Hermione. "So we don't actually know whether jumping in the pond would have been sufficient. Without Ron, I mean."

"No, we really don't."

"And the situation is different," Robert pressed. "Harry is Gryffindor's heir this time around. Why does he even need to reclaim the sword at all? Shouldn't it belong to him by right?"

"I don't know." Hermione looked uncertain. "I suppose not. The sword can present itself to any worthy Gryffindor, can't it? Its allegiance must have changed, that's all."

Ella sighed, pressing her hands to her eyes until she saw little stars as she appreciated the magnitude of the problem. "If it wouldn't have worked without Ron, then we really have no way to engineer the circumstances, do we?" she said finally, still staring at the inside of her hands. She took another sharp breath, which didn't seem sufficient. A weight had settled in her chest, making it impossible to fully inhale. Why had she ever, ever thought any of this would be simple?

"Right," Hermione said. "There's no way we can falsify a sense of danger or a moment of need if Harry's expecting it. The sword won't accept him, Gryffindor's heir or not."

Silence fell again, heavier this time. Perhaps they'd have to give up on the sword and take a field trip to the Chamber of Secrets if they couldn't figure it out. It seemed like an easy solution, so Ella paused to contemplate how that, too, could go horribly wrong. Maybe the basilisk had regenerated and was waiting to murder them all. She tried to draw in another breath, but still couldn't seem to fully inhale, as if her lungs had already been petrified. The anxiety of everything had settled there, choking her. Thank God Sirius had known how to cast the Fiendfyre, or they could have lost Harry. They could have lost him.

"Let's table it for now," Hermione said finally. "We still have to track down the others before we can destroy anything. Rob, is there any movement with the cup?"

Robert seemed to snap out of his musings and glanced around the table. "No. Well, it was in Bellatrix's vault. I've found the intake forms from her arrest, and it's on the list of contents confiscated. But Gringotts hasn't sent over a thing I've asked for yet."

Hermione sighed. "I'll expedite your request. They'll have to take it seriously if it's coming from the Minister's office."

"You should be careful, Hermione," Ron said cheerfully. "Don't abuse your position. That would be grounds for a sacking."

"Oh, be quiet, Ron."

Ron grinned sheepishly at the scattered laughs he'd managed to entice from the solemn table. Hermione ignored him.

"And we will need to check in with Snape," she added, which instantly sobered everyone up.

Ella felt her own grin slide off her face. Snape. Who was researching dark magical ways of reviving horcruxes. And, more importantly, how to keep Harry alive… "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" Harry glanced at her. "You've got your shot tomorrow, and—"

"That takes five minutes," Ella said, shrugging. "I've got nothing happening until Friday except getting stabbed and grading with Siggy. I'll check in with Snape."

"All right," Hermione said, after a brief pause. She stood, stretching. "On that note, we'll get out of your hair. Let us know what you find out."

"I will," Ella said, suppressing a yawn. She was bloody exhausted, and she'd barely done anything all day except read the news and worry. She was starting to hate chemo weeks.

One by one, they drifted off through the Floo, which flared green across their sitting room with every departure. When the flat was empty at last, Ella turned to Harry and appraised him.

"You seem chipper," she said. "Robards didn't drive you too hard?"

"No, he did." Harry sighed. "I'm not sure he believes me about the wards, to be honest. But at this point, it's out of my hands. And we got one, didn't we?" He grinned then, unable to help himself. "We bloody got one. Finally."

"We did," she agreed. And Harry had nearly died doing it. And what the horcrux had shown him had nearly broken her heart. She momentarily wondered where the Ella of yesterday had gone, and whether she could find her, because she really needed the pep talk that Ella had had for Harry. Before she lost control over everything.

But it was true, they had bloody gotten one. It was a victory. So she offered Harry the smile he dearly needed and took a moment to hope he stayed out of the dark space for a while, because only one of them should occupy it at a time for them to have a functional marriage. And then she finally sought out the comfort of their bed.

"Thanks for doing this here," Ella said the following afternoon, laying out piles of homework assignments on the kitchen table. It was an easier sight to take in than the mounds of horcrux research that normally occupied this surface as of late. "I really appreciate it."

"Of course," Siggy said brightly. "It's easier to grade in your flat than the Leaky, isn't it?"

"Well, there's more space," Ella said, shrugging. There was more food at the Leaky Cauldron, where they'd taken to meeting lately, but she really couldn't stomach the thought of food at the moment. Even the smell made her feel ill. She drew in a shallow breath, because a deeper one seemed to make her entire body hurt every time she'd attempted it for the last several hours, and wondered if she'd get a better drop this time around. Just two more days until she had an answer. If she could just get out of the thousands…

"Are you all right?" Siggy asked.

"All good." Ella pulled the top parchment towards her and unfurled it. "Let's get to it. You haven't had to grade a paper before, have you? This should be fun."

"No," Siggy said, settling in the chair opposite Ella. She pushed her hair out of her face and scrutinized the parchments piled atop the table. "I'm not sure where to start. It seems very subjective."

"It is," Ella agreed. "But also, remember, this is Magical Science, not Creative Writing. We're looking for facts foremost. If they've put in the time to do the research and really understand the theory, I'll grade them higher. I mean if the grammar's terrible and they can't spell 'dimension,' we shouldn't ignore it, but we're not teaching anyone to be the next Gilderoy Lockhart or anything."

Siggy laughed, reaching for a rolled-up scroll at the top of the pile. "He was a real disappointment, wasn't he? Some hero."

"Oh yes, he's useless," Ella said vaguely, her eyes trailing across the parchment in her hands. Of course it was Victor Burke's. She thought even less of him than Lockhart. Then again, Lockhart should have known better, and Victor was a spoiled boy.

Parallel worlds run in adjacent dimensions that are synced together from the point of creation across a universal timeline. This is the Sync Point. And the barrier between them can be crossed in both directions, at any point in time. Ella grinned. Wrong. Absolutely bloody wrong.

A universal timeline. What even was that? A Sync Point could only be created once, when the barrier between two words was broken. And they would run together in time from that point onward. There was only one sync point in existence — the one between this world, and the world of Muggle London. She'd only said it at least five times.

With a flourish, she reached for her quill and her pot of bright red ink, and drew a big, glossy F. "There's that."

Siggy glanced up curiously.

"Can't be helped if someone doesn't understand Sync Point Theory," Ella said, shrugging. It was, after all, the topic of the paper. And the end product of years of work with Albus.

Siggy spotted Victor's name atop the parchment and gave Ella a grin before returning to her work. In the companionable silence, Ella let her mind wander as she skimmed the rest of Victor's paper; but only because the Institute was paying her in galleons to teach the idiot, and she felt compelled to justify her F. It was really too bad she couldn't get him kicked out of her class. She was certainly feeling spiteful enough to do it these days. But if Siggy wasn't comfortable going to Dean Greengrass about the bullying, then she would support that. She had to.

Ella sighed audibly, then winced as the motion caused a sharp stab of pain to her lungs.

"Are you sure you're all right, Professor?"

Siggy was watching her from across the table, a frown working its way onto her face.

"Fine," Ella said quickly. "Don't worry." It was some new exciting side effect from the stupid MTX; she was sure of it. She needed to find that booklet Hannah had handed her way back when, so that she could check. Really, she should have mentioned it to Hannah when she stopped by for her shot that morning, but in the morning every breath she'd taken hadn't felt like it was stabbing her in the chest. Plus, she'd wanted nothing more than to escape Hannah's office, as usual.

Something about Victor's paper in her hands seemed terribly confusing. Like she couldn't quite make out the words of exactly where he had gone wrong. She blinked and attempted to draw in another breath. It seemed to hurt more than the last one. She cursed inwardly.

"I'll be back in a minute," she said, pushing her chair back from the table. She'd track down the bloody booklet; she couldn't focus on the papers otherwise. "Keep reading."

What was it Hannah had said? Stomachaches — she knew that. Mouth sores. Well, she'd gotten rid of those quickly enough. But what had Hannah said about the air being made of sharp little knives, which dug into her chest every time she tried to draw breath? She couldn't quite remember. She was halfway across the room when she tried it again — mainly because she felt like she couldn't get enough air, even though she was quite clearly breathing and walking around, so perhaps she was simply mental — and she stumbled from the sudden pain that lanced, knifelike, across her chest.

"Fuck," she gasped.

"What's wrong?" Siggy was at her side in an instant. "Is it something related to your… er, to your—"

"My treatment?" Ella managed weakly, as she let Siggy lead her to the sofa. "Probably."

"Do you need to go in? To St. Mungo's?"

"I'm sure it's fine." She leaned back against the cushions, taking shallow breaths through her nose.

"But, Professor…" Siggy paused, as if worried she were stepping out of line. "But you don't look fine. Are you in pain?"

"Just a little bit," Ella admitted. "It feels just a bit like I can't breathe. But," she added, when something like concern flashed across Siggy's face, "as you can see, I am. So I'm totally fine."

"I think…" Siggy said slowly. "I think I should take you to St. Mungo's."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not..." Ella frowned. She'd seen enough of St. Mungo's to last a lifetime. "I'm sure it's fine. It's been like this for hours." Hell, it had probably been like this since yesterday, she just hadn't realized that the weight on her chest was a bit more solid than anxiety alone could account for.

"But it sounds serious," Siggy insisted. "I think you really ought to go in."

Was it serious? Ella really didn't think so. Or perhaps it was more that she didn't want to think so. She had enough problems on her plate already. She had homework to grade, and horcruxes to track down, and guilt to drown in. She didn't need a useless trip to St. Mungo's on top, so that Hannah could tell her she was crying wolf over a little bit of pain. And worse, what if Hannah decided to put her treatment on pause while she sorted this out? She had seen enough posts in the support group about it happening over side effects, or drops in platelet counts, or some other thing she wasn't even sure Hannah was checking her for. Not that she didn't trust Hannah. Of course she did. But she was nearly done with her third round, and her numbers were still ridiculously high. And she couldn't bear to stop.

She attempted another deep breath. It got stuck somewhere in her chest, petering out into little rivulets of pain. She blew the air back out, baring her teeth.

"Professor," Siggy said, her voice pleading.

And Ella glanced up to see Siggy's staring at her, her face dancing with a nervous energy, and realized she was scaring the girl. She was being stubborn, she knew that. Perhaps it was serious. Perhaps Siggy was right, and she should go to St. Mungo's. After all, she couldn't bloody breathe. That seemed important.

"All right," she said, reaching for her wand. The homework would just have to wait.

"Great." Siggy sounded much happier. "I'll take you."

"Oh, no, I can—"

"You shouldn't go alone," Siggy insisted. "What if something happens?"

She contemplated that. What would happen? Would she pass out in the Floo and accidentally fall out of the fireplace in Knockturn Alley instead of Hannah's office? Ella cringed. That would be worse than the whole production this was turning into. But Siggy was already involved, and really, what would she do if their roles were reversed? She'd hardly send Siggy off to hospital on her own. And what the hell was wrong with her anyway. If she were still a Muggle, she'd probably think she was having a heart attack. Could witches get heart attacks? Could MTX cause a heart attack?

She felt her face pale by degrees.

She was being an idiot. She was doing the sort of stupid thing she so often got upset with Harry for, and for no good reason.

"All right," she said again, and she raised her wand, focusing until her magic burst forth in the shape of the familiar dolphin, her patronus streaking off toward the window and out into the night. Siggy followed its progress curiously, but said nothing. They waited there in silence, the seconds ticking by. Every breath that Ella managed to squeeze into her chest smaller, and smaller.

And then a large cat (or maybe a small leopard) slipped in through the window, its glow warming up the room. Until the tightness in her chest seemed just a little lighter. And the cat settled on the kitchen table, its tail swishing through the rolled up scrolls that still littered its surface, and spoke in Hannah's voice. Perfectly calm for all its urgency.

"Ella, it's Hannah. Come in right away. I'll meet you at the Floo."

And that made her heart drop. Because if Hannah had only said, "It's fine, Ella," or "We'll discuss it on Thursday," she could have found a way to breathe. Not "Come in right away." She didn't know what to do with that. Come in right away. God. It was serious. Hannah was worried.

She felt more than saw Siggy grab her arm and pull her to her feet.

"Where are we going?" Siggy said firmly, her voice perfectly calm. She was pulling Ella toward the Floo. And everything around her seemed to be shimmering somehow. Just a little bit unreal.

"Where's Hannah's office?" Siggy repeated. And Ella realized the Floo was right there before them, flaring abruptly to green. "Professor, please. I don't know—"

"The St. Mungo's, er…" Ella muttered, trying to get a grasp on reality once again. "The… Maternal Fetal Care Centre."

Siggy repeated the words into the fire, her tone betraying nothing. And then they were stepping into the Floo, the green flames licking against her arm. The sudden heat blazed some measure of sense into her, before the fire whisked them away, a countless stream of fireplaces blurring before her eyes with a dizzying intensity. She blinked, finding a moment's respite in the blissful darkness, before the heat of the fire faded away, and she sensed the familiar antiseptic smell of Hannah's office, underscored with just the tiniest bit of something sticky and sweet. From the toffee bowl they kept on the reception desk.

And then Hannah was there, firmly grasping her elbow and leading her away from Siggy, past the waiting room full of pregnant witches who stared them down with curious eyes. And she felt shame. So much shame. And just anger. And a deep, bone-crushing sadness that tore her up inside. That left her cold and empty. That broke her into pieces, sharper than the shards that pierced her lungs, that she knew would never, ever heal.

"Pleurisy."

Ella blinked at that, staring at Hannah as she sat on the exam table. "What's that?"

"Good news," Hannah said, smiling. "When your message said your chest hurt and you couldn't breathe, I was worried it might be a pulmonary embolism. This is much better. Not great, of course, but better."

Ella simply stared, too exhausted to say anything. Too empty to feel relief about yet another thing that was bloody wrong with her.

"It's mainly just pain," Hannah explained, when Ella said nothing. "Inflammation in the chest. A rarer side effect of the Methotrexate. It isn't permanent."

"Are you going to pause the treatment?" Ella asked tonelessly. She wanted to feel vindicated. She had been right after all. A side effect. There had been no need to panic.

She was too exhausted to feel vindicated.

"No," Hannah said, "don't worry. We can treat it with a Soreness Solution. The Methotrexate is working well. There's no need to make any adjustments."

"Is it?" Ella said, before she could stop herself. She stared at her hands, which were twisting together in her lap.

"It is," Hannah said firmly. "Your numbers are down to 2,050, Ella."

She glanced up at that. "My numbers? But we're not done with the third round yet…"

"Exactly." Hannah was smiling. "It seemed appropriate to test a little early. It's a wonderful drop for this stage."

She felt relief. A smile crept onto her face, though not ten minutes ago she had thought she'd never smile again. She felt herself slip out, somewhere deep in her heart. Pushing aside the sad stranger that had taken hold of her. "So it's working."

"Yes," Hannah repeated kindly. "We'll finish up the third round on Thursday, and then we keep going. One step at a time. It's all we can do, Ella."

"All right." Ella nodded, feeling a bit more like herself. It wasn't for nothing. Everything she was putting her body through… it meant something. It mattered. And this pain, too, was proof that she was alive. And willing to keep walking. She smiled slightly.

"Good." Hannah turned away, stepping to the counter that ran along the far wall, and sifted through several glass vials. There was a soft chime as they bumped against each other, the sound petering out into the room. "I want you to take this now and I'll have the dispensary send you a week's supply. We'll re-evaluate after that."

The potion was thick, and purple, and numbingly cold. She could feel it coating the entire length of her insides, leaving her shivering long after she'd stepped out of Hannah's office. An aftertaste of blackberries on her tongue. But the sharp breaths she took as she walked shakily down the empty corridor didn't hurt at all.

The waiting room seemed somehow different when she stepped into it again. It was the same flat lighting. The same set of pregnant witches, who stared at her still. The same toffee smell. But it all felt a little brighter. A little warmer. And as her eyes scanned across the waiting area, she spotted Siggy by the Floo. And beside her, Harry…

She took a step forward, her heart leaping slightly at the sight of him, but then Harry turned and it wasn't Harry at all. It was Daniyel.

"Hey," she said blankly as they both hurried toward her. "Er, what are you doing here?"

"Ells, are you all right?" Daniyel reached out, laying a hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry," Siggy said nervously, her voice carrying in the open space. "I wasn't sure what to do, so I got Dan. I hope that's all right."

Ella flushed, uncomfortably aware of every gaze in the room focused solely on them. Gone were the days when she wanted to own the spotlight. Certainly not for this.

"Robards is trying to get a message to Harry," Daniyel added. "But he's on location up north and, anyway, Siggy told me what happened…"

"Oh no, I'm totally fine." It was bad enough she hadn't thought to send him her own messenger. What would Harry think when Robards tracked him down? She felt horrible. "I'll send him a message to let him know I'm all right."

"What happened?" Daniyel pressed.

"Nothing, really," she said quietly, her eyes trailing around the room. Everyone was watching them. Everyone. "Just a side effect. Honestly. It's fine." She forced a smile.

Daniyel's eyes followed her gaze. "Let's get out of here."

He pulled her away, out into the street, where the March chill blew easily through her sweater. She shuddered, drawing her arms across her chest, and Daniyel wordlessly conjured a coat and handed it to her.

"Thanks."

"So everything's all right?" he asked, as she huddled beneath the thick wool and pulled the coat close. Behind him, Siggy had conjured her own coat and was pulling it tightly around her.

"Mm hmm," Ella said, trying not to shiver. Between the numbing effects of the potion and the cold winter air, she was thinking longingly of their warm flat. "The, er, chemo just caused some pain, so Hannah gave me a potion, and now I feel excellent."

Dan frowned. "Siggy said you couldn't breathe."

"I could breathe… I just felt like…" She sighed, then glanced at Siggy, who looked a bit uncertain, and tried to sort out why she was being so damn stubborn. She supposed it was anger. She had been holding on to so much of it. For the baby she'd never gotten to properly grieve. The cancer. The chemo. The waiting room full of pregnant witches. God, she hated it. She hated seeing them. She hated the thought of them wondering why she was there. What they must have thought, when Hannah led her past them. She almost wished that Siggy had left well enough alone and let her suffer in silence. What was a bit more pain, after all? It was nothing compared to what she'd already been carrying in her heart.

She was well aware that she was being an idiot.

Of course Siggy had been right to tell her to go.

Of course they were worried about her. Wouldn't she do the same for any of them?

"It was just painful to take a breath," she said finally, the frustration fading from her voice. "And I think I let my imagination run a bit wild. I'm sorry, Siggy. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh no," Siggy said quickly. "Please don't worry. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Did you not need to come in, Professor?"

"No," Ella admitted. "It was good you made me go in. Problem solved. See?"

Siggy offered a relieved smile. "I'm glad."

"And I reckon," Ella added, "after all that… you can probably call me 'Ella.'"

Siggy rubbed her arms and nodded.

"C'mon," Daniyel said, glancing between them. "Let's head back to yours, Ells. Before we all freeze."

"One second." She dug out her wand, sending her energy through it, until the dolphin burst forth into the pale, fading daylight, and streaked off through London's concrete jungle. Carrying her message to Harry across the wind.

Hey. Had a bit of a scare with a side effect and went to see Hannah. Everything's totally fine, don't worry, all right? She sorted it out, and we're heading back. Dan and Siggy are with me. Will chat tonight. Love you. Ella

Then she turned back to Daniyel and Siggy, pulling the coat tighter around her shaking hands. "All right, I'm ready."

"Of course, I'll send you a message if anything."

Daniyel nodded, and finally, finally stepped toward the Floo. Siggy followed him, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

"And I'll grade all these, Professor — er, Ella."

"You really don't have to," Ella said. "Honest."

"No, no, I insist." Siggy wrapped her arms around the bag, pulling it against her chest. "You really should rest."

"But I'm honestly fine," Ella said seriously.

"Are you sure you don't want us to wait until Harry gets back?" Daniyel cut in. "Cause we could—"

"No, just go," Ella said, sighing. "Go ahead, take the homework."

Daniyel grinned. "Good choice. But seriously, send us your patronus if anything happens."

"I will," Ella promised again, contemplating that if anything else were to happen, she might seriously consider throwing in the towel. She just didn't have the mental capacity for it anymore. All she wanted was to curl up on the bed with a bag of crisps and browse the support group forum and feel sorry for herself for a bit while she waited for Harry to come back from wherever Robards had spirited him away to.

"Go on, take the homework," she repeated. Hell, if Siggy wanted to do it, why on earth was she trying to stop her anyway?

"Good night," Siggy said, stepping into the Floo with a rather large smile. The girl was much, much too excited about grading a stack of boring papers. Ella mentally shook her head. Well, she'd see soon enough. Daniyel slipped in beside Siggy as the fire roared, and they both vanished in a flash of swirling green flames. Off to do some of those adorable New Couple Things, surely, when everything felt bright and new and simple. She missed those moments. Though for her and Harry, things had never been simple.

Ella stretched, grateful that the motion didn't feel painful, and turned away from the Floo, stepping lightly toward the kitchen. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the support, she thought, as she dug through the small pantry for her favorite bag of half-eaten potato crisps, or Siggy's insistence to grade all the papers. Or Daniyel's endless cups of tea, for that matter. But after two hours of their company, she had wanted nothing more than to send them on their way.

It was just exhausting. She was exhausted.

Everything was piling on, and it was far too much. And she wanted Harry. She wanted to hit pause on the world, and forget about everything else that was wrong with it. About Voldemort, and the horcruxes. Just for a moment. She wanted to breathe. To hug Harry and tell him how much it hurt. But she couldn't tell Harry anything, because Harry wasn't there. And she couldn't tell Daniyel, because Siggy had been there. And now no one was there, and that had been what she wanted, so why, why did she suddenly feel so bloody sad when she looked at the empty flat?

She located the crips and made her way to the table, where she suspected she had left the laptop. It wasn't there either. Even the stupid computer had betrayed her.

She took a steadying breath.

The bedroom, then. She padded in that direction, giving Snowy an affectionate rub on the head as she passed him stretched across the sofa.

She was afraid. Constantly afraid. And the fear wasn't directional. She couldn't run from it. Couldn't fight it, because it was everywhere. It was everything. It was cloaking her, like an ominous dark cloud. And she was breathing it in, from the moment her eyes opened each morning. And in the night, it hung only heavier.

The laptop was on her nightstand. She picked it up, settling on the bed, and lifted the screen. The familiar purple backdrop of the forum glowed to life. There were twelve message notifications. Allie had wished her a good drop for the week. Then, Isabella had just gotten her third dose of MTX that morning, and since they were on the same schedule with comparable numbers, she was hoping for an update from Ella soon. Someone new named Kristin was due to start chemo the following day, and she had left a comment under Ella's first post, asking about side effects. Ella sighed.

She clicked out of her notifications and typed "Pleurisy" into the forum search bar, watching the results populate as questions swirled in her mind. How common was it? Had anyone else experienced it, or was she once again extra special? How worried, really, did she need to be?

There was a knock at the door.

She jumped, her hair swinging abruptly across her face as her fingers slipped on the keyboard. The screen with the forum flashed white.

It sounded again, loud and persistent. A sharp series of jabs that cut right through the door and settled somewhere in her chest instead. Because of course, of course, it was probably just some neighbor returning a cake pan or borrowing some coffee, because she was bloody Jane Public and that sort of thing happened all the time.

She sighed and closed the laptop. Then she slipped out of the bed and, clutching tight to the wand, made her way warily to the door.

"Revelio," she whispered, and the magic tingled as it slipped down her arm and flared out, seeping through the metal of the door, until it brushed on the familiar form of another person. She let it linger slightly longer than necessary, her magical feelers reaching out until they touched the edges of a beating heart. And then the magic abruptly shattered, its remains fading to dust to coat the space between them. She sighed again, packed up all her pain and hurt and half-opened message notifications, and shoved them in a box somewhere far in the back of her mind, and slipped open the door.

"Do you find it so difficult to control a simple Revelio, or is it your intention to intrude on the privacy of your guests?"

"No," Ella said tonelessly.

They watched each other in silence, she and her uninvited guest, his hard black eyes boring into hers until she glanced away.

"I was going to come see you. It's good you're here."

"Good," Snape said, after appraising her coolly. "Because I have a possible solution to the problem at hand." He paused, seeming to contemplate her. "Though you should know, it involves killing your husband."

Ella stared at him, too shocked to make a sound.

Snape's lip curled. "Mostly."

"You should come in," she managed, speaking around the ten-pound stone that had settled in her stomach. Snape, and his bloody dark and terrible jokes. Under normal circumstances, she may have appreciated them.

"Potter—" he began, following her into the flat.

"Harry's not here." She turned, leaning against the kitchen counter and gesturing to the table, which had been covered in scrolls of homework just hours ago, but now lay empty.

She had barely finished speaking when a sudden cracking sound echoed from the foyer, followed by the swishing of robes and scuffing of shoes, and she turned to see Harry stumbling into the flat.

"Ella!" he gasped. "I'm so sorry, I was in a bloody cave— never mind, are you all right?" He stopped abruptly, his eyes landing on Snape, who had settled into a seat at their table, and was watching the drama unfold with glittering eyes.

"Harry," Ella said dully. She sighed, pushing aside the tiny bit of resentment that had rooted there, because of course Harry had been absent the entire time she needed him, but magically came running as soon as Snape was at their door. But what the hell else could she expect, anyway?

"You're just in time. Snape wants to murder you."