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The two stood in the shadow of his study door. The light that shone into the corridor was barely enough to highlight either of their faces; though perhaps that was an appropriate thing. It was a bad time far both of them, and yet some how, not quite as bad as it was for the woman who sat in the office, her shoulders hunched against the fire, her head in her hands. 

She had been sitting there, frozen in that state for the past hour. As Wilem Dahl and Ginny Weasley watched her from the shadows of the doorframe both of them wondered, quietly and to themselves if she’d just been pushed too far this time. 

“How is she Wilem?” Ginny asked staring into the handsome, but tired and lined face of the older man. He had just been in to check on her and returned back with the same air of grim defeat as he had entered with. 

“She’s…” He paused, looking at Hermione as she sat in his chair, her shoulder’s shaking softly as she cried. What was she? He knew what he wanted her to be; cured, fine, even coping would be better than nothing; but alas, she was not even one of those things. Not even close. 

“She’s…” He said again, searching for the right words, being careful, unwilling to hurt anyone. “She is unwell.” He settled on at last. “But only time will tell just how unwell.” 

The two settled back into resonating silence. 

“So, he’s back then?” Wilem asked at last. The tone of this voice made it very clear just who ‘he’ was, and what exactly he thought of him. But who could blame him? Harry Potter had destroyed the woman he loved. 

“Yes…” Ginny said slowly, nodding her head and staring off into the dark. “Yes, he is. Though I don’t know how long for. A week, maybe a month? Maybe he’ll stay? …” She trailed off, lost in her thoughts. It had surprised her to not feel anything when Harry showed up again. Then again, it had surprised her that he had shown up at all. 

“Maybe he’s already left?” Wilem suggested, and one could not help but hear the hope running undercurrent in his voice. Ginny smiled softly. 

“I don’t think so Wilem.” She said. “From my experience, Harry doesn’t like running away.” 

Wilem snorted. 

“He didn’t used to.” 

Ginny knew he was right. Maybe Harry had left, just as soon as he had arrived. Perhaps that was a good thing? Or perhaps that would ruin them all? One thing was for certain- Harry Potter had changed. He didn’t smile, and he didn’t hurt, maybe, after all his time away he didn’t feel at all. 

That same oleander bush that had scared both she and Hermione earlier scraped against the window. Ginny shivered, the night time making her imagine darker creatures and darker days. 

A cool chill crept under the front door as the wind continued to howl outside and rain bucketed down. She pulled the crocheted rug tighter around herself and buried her body deeper into the old sofa. 

She felt a little safer wrapped up in her cocoon with the light of the fire playing off her face. Sleep was taking her as it’s own at last, its intoxicating tendrils ensnaring her body. She shifted a little and murmured to herself, closing her eyelids and breathing in deeply. 

There was a knock on the door. 

Ginny jolted back to reality. A glance at the clock told her it was one fifteen in the morning. Who could it be? She wondered as she rose to her feet and put on her dressing gown. It was probably Hermione. Ginny couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be alone on a night like this, however, out of old habit she grabbed her wand from the floor and padded out with the entrance. 

There was another knock on the door, more urgent and demanding this time. Ginny put her eye to the peep hole to see who it could be, but all she saw was the black evening. Summoning all her bravery she carefully turned the handle, and let the door swing forward on its own. 

The tall, broad figure of a man stood before her, only illuminated in places by the light shining from the living room. She saw a flash of pale skin, scars along a jaw line and a ragged mop of black hair. 

Fenir Greyback! 

“Hello.” He said in a soft, but low and rough voice. Terror rushed through her body. 

So she pulled her wand and stunned him. It was then that the crumpled body of Harry Potter fell across the threshold in into the light. 

That was how it had started for her. After realising what she had done she had dragged his body out of the rain and into the house, revived him and gone straight to Hermione. Bad move. What a stupid girl. She thought to herself. She should’ve just kept it to herself. 

“He’s changed, Wilem.” She whispered, hearing the fear and sadness in her own voice. Wilem looked down to her pale and slowly aging face. He felt pity for her on some level. Harry Potter had been her friend, brother and lover; but that small amount of compassion could not overwhelm his resentment and anger entirely. 

He, Wilem had spent months of his time making her better, getting to know her, falling in love with her. It had been hard work, but it was worth it, and now Harry had ruined all that. Vaguely Wilem wondered what it would be like meeting Harry Potter had he not first reduced the woman he loved to an emotional wreck. 

Once more he stared through the doorframe and in on Hermione’s private pain, hearing again her words to him. 

“Help me Wilem.” She had whispered to him as he bent over her and sponged her forehead. “Help me be better.” 

And he would, he would try. 

There was a sound from the next room, the sound of a chair being scraped against the floor. Wilem looked up from the Ginny to see Hermione on her feet; her frail form moving about the room in an agitated way. Her movements were quick and jerky. She appeared to be talking to herself as she stood by the large window, staring out onto the black London street below. She ran hands through her hair and rubbed her arms to warm herself. Then she stopped moving altogether and pressed her head against the glass, looking, but not really seeing. 

Ginny and Wilem stood frozen, staring in at her in wonder. What was wrong? Why after all these hours had she decided then to move? They shared a quick puzzled glance before turning back to Hermione. 


Ginny started at the sound of her own name. She looked at Wilem with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. Hermione had not moved and she did not move again as she called her friend’s name a second time. 

“Go!” Wilem whispered, so Ginny forced her body into motion and surged through the doorway. She stopped about a meter from Hermione, watching the steady rhythm that pulsed through her body as she breathed. 

“I have to see him.” Hermione croaked at last. Ginny gasped, moving to her side, placing a hand on her arm and staring into her face. 

“What?” She asked, although she had heard perfectly well. Hermione looked up, her face chalk white, dry tears staining her cheeks. 

“I have to see him.” And as Ginny looked into her best friends empty eyes, she knew he really did have to. 

There was no other way. 

AN: Wow, another update. That's 3 in 2 days... just not for this fic. Oh well. I hope you like the chapter. The chapters for this one are always short. Please review!

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