Wings & Tails

Title: A Wizard in Oz: Alive in a World of Dead Men
Author: little_dumpling
Pairings: (highlight to read)*Pre-slash Harry/Draco, Past Harry/Neville*
Prompt: 14, The Wizard of Oz
Gift for: tari_sue
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 12,425
Summary: In an attempt to run away from memories that haunt him, Harry leaves Britain for a holiday to Australia. When Harry finds himself in a strange world that makes him forget his past, Harry has the chance to move on with his life, only there's something inside his mind that holds him back. The only hope Harry has of returning to the world is Draco Malfoy, but can Draco put all his skills to use and pull Harry back?
Warnings: (highlight to read)* Angst, implication of character death, discussion of mental health issues, an incredibly dumbed-down, breezed-over explanation of how the brain and some medications work, hospitalisation, consumption of alcohol and prescription drugs, very mild slash, mild language, DH spoilers, EWE, happy ending*
Author's Note: This fic uses some major/minor plot points from the 1939 movie "The Wizard of Oz", and a few details from the novel "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" published in 1900, written by L. Frank Baum.
Author's Note 2: An incredibly HUGE thank-you goes out to the mods who were so patient with me, even though I was really horrible about getting this to them. Thank-you darlings, you were too wonderful!
Disclaimer: I, the author of this piece, do not profit in any form from this fanwork. All characters, ideas, situations, ect, used in this fiction are intellectual property of their prospective owners and are used for entertainment purposes only, with no harm intended.




A Wizard in Oz
Alive in a World of Dead Men


Harry stepped up to the line leading into the security gate and put his carry-on down, before looking back at his best friend.

"You'll be careful, won't you?" Ron's pale face was drawn and serious.

"Don't worry, Ron. I'm just going on holiday." Harry tried to smile.

Ron shook his head and looked down at the grey and white polished marble floor of Heathrow airport. "You're not just going on vacation Harry, no matter what you tell yourself. You're trying to forget, just like the rest of us. But you're going about this the wrong way! You can't run away from your problems. Can't you see that?" His voice was filled with exasperation.

"I just want some time to myself. To sort this all out in my head."

"It's been seven years since the War, Harry."

"I know," Harry's face was filled with pain. "But Neville-"

Ron squeezed his shoulder, "It's been over a year since..." Ron sighed when Harry shook his head. "It will still be here when you get back."

"I know. I just need a little bit of time. And so does everyone else."

Ron had known Harry long enough and well enough that he could tell what Harry was feeling, just by looking at him. Harry couldn't be sure if he appreciated this particular talent or loathed it. "It wasn't your fault, Harry."

Harry just shook his head and picked up his bag as the line in front of him moved up.

"Please, just be careful. I have a bad feeling about this."

Harry smiled weakly at him, "I have my cell phone if you need to get in touch with me. Give my love to Hermione and I'll see you in four weeks."

Ron nodded and stepped back.

***

Harry sat down in the window seat and stowed his bag under the seat in front of him. This was only his second time on a plane and if truth be told, he was feeling rather nervous. It was a long flight to Australia and he just hoped his stomach was up to it.

After the passengers had settled down and began to buckle up, the flight attendants acted out their safety routine, while trying to hide their bored expressions.

Harry bit his lip as he felt the plane pick-up speed down the runway before the odd feeling of momentary weightlessness and pressure filled his head. According to the Captain's disembodied voice, they would hit turbulence as they went over Northern Italy, and have a potentially rough ride until they landed in Dubai.

Harry's stomach clenched in worry and anticipation as he watched the plane pass over England below. Twenty-three hours in a plane with a two-hour layover in Dubai was a long trip just to go on holiday. And Harry could admit to himself that Ron wasn't wrong, he was running away. But all he wanted was some time to himself in a place where no one knew him, and if he felt he had to go half-way around the world to do so, it would be a small price to pay for anonymity.

Harry watched the flight attendants began to bring out the drink carts as he fingered the small plastic bottles in his pocket. As the Stewardess got closer, he contemplated buying a drink. He didn't think it was a particularly good idea to get pissed on an airplane, but as the woman next to him flipped rapidly through the channels on the TV in front of her and a baby a few rows back began to whimper, Harry clenched his hand around the bottles tightly and searched his other pocket for a tenner.

Wiggling the two small clear bottles out of his pocket, Harry popped the tops off both and shook out five pills before downing them, using the vodka tonic the stewardess had given him.

Leaning back against his seat, he noticed that the girl beside him had finally settled on a in-flight screening of the Wizard of Oz. Harry watched the silent screen lazily as he waited for the meds begin to take effect. Little people in brightly coloured costumes were dancing around Judy Garland in a blue pinafore, pointing to the road beneath their feet. Harry smiled at the absurdity of the movie as his eyes began to droop.

***

When he'd booked the flight, Harry had wished that there was such a thing as a non-stop flight to Australia. But when the plane finally landed in Dubai to refuel, Harry was glad there wasn't.

After being loaded off the plane, Harry spent a good forty minutes walking around the huge international airport, until his flight-swollen ankles began to softly ache. Finding a near-by bar, he deposited himself on a stool and ordered a local beer, whose label was covered in a squiggly language he couldn't read. He had over an hour to kill before he had to be back at his terminal and he really wasn't sure what to do with himself.

So far, the flight had gone better than he could have expected. Other than the fact that he'd drunk just barely enough to make sure the flight was spent in a slight haze, being so closely surrounded by people hadn't been as horrifying as he'd feared.

It was enough to make him wonder if the fear he'd developed of crowds was only a fear of being swarmed by crowds that knew of him, that chanted his name and asked for his autograph. Being just another face in a crowd of Muggles was almost... pleasant.

Harry slid his perspiring bottle along the wood of the counter and ran his thumb through trail of water it left behind. There was a TV stuck in one corner of the room, quietly playing a news channel half English and half in Arabic. The soft hum of chatter in the bar, was dull to his ears and Harry liked to think it had suited his mood. The atmosphere around him was heavy and depressing, though he couldn't be sure if that was just him, or the entire bar.

An hour and two bottles of very acidic beer later, Harry paid his tab with Pound notes that the bartender reluctantly accepted and headed off towards his terminal. About half-way there he spotted a man in the crowd that made him stop dead in the middle of the busy airport corridor.

"Neville," he had whispered softy to himself. But as he stood there, the man drew closer until he passed by Harry completely, he realised he'd been wrong. The man had looked nothing like the soft-spoken man.

Harry's gut was heavy as he finally started to move back towards his terminal, a voice in his head that sounding suspiciously like Snape, berating him for being an lunatic. Imposing a dead man's face on a stranger was something only a crazy person would do, the voice had badgered cruelly.

***

Harry looked around the clean, bright, well decorated sitting room of his suite and frowned. It wasn't home, but Harry wasn't sure where home was anyway. He'd been living in Grimmauld Place since the War, but it had never felt like home to him. In the last two years, he'd only used it as a place to take a kip and a shower in-between hospital visits, and later, between bouts of staying in Ron and Hermione's guest room.

He stepped up to the glass doors that led out to the balcony, as the porter took his luggage to the bedroom.

"Anything else I can do for you, Sir?" The harsh tone of the porter's Australian accent broke the silence.

"Any place to get a good drink in the area?" Harry's brow furrowed as he looked out at the lively harbour his hotel faced.

"The hotel made up this map with suggested attractions and restaurants in the area."

Harry watched the porter's reflection in the glass as the man reached for the previously empty pocket on the front of his maroon uniform and pulled out a brochure. He felt the soft tingle that indicated magic had been used and signed to himself, will I never escape it? Will I never escape the magic that let Neville down, that let me down.

When he had booked the hotel, he'd been sure it was a Muggle hotel, and yet it was ironic that he might have gotten the only wizard on staff as his porter.

A brochure printed on shiny paper was brought into view on his right as the porter stepped up, beside him. The sheen of the map, as it was unfolded, glinted in the late afternoon sun.

After recommending several pubs and restaurants on the map, the man went on to mention several points of interest around the city that Harry might enjoy, before hesitating slightly.

"...And of course we do have a wizarding quarter in the city, if you'd like to visit."

Harry turned away and glared down at the boats floating around the edge of the harbour just below. "I'd rather not."

The porter shifted uncomfortably. "Right. Well then, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call the front desk or room service, both numbers are listed beside the telephone." Leaving the brochure on the table beside the phone, the porter turned towards the suite's door. "I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr Potter."

Harry pulled out his two drug bottles and dry-swallowed five of the small pills, before rubbing his temples with his fingers. He'd developed a bit of a headache before the plane had touched down in Sydney and it was really getting on his nerves. Moved over to the bedroom and sprawled out on the comfortable bed, pausing only to kick off his shoes. He hoped a short nap would clear the ache away.

***

The server put the bill down in between the empty bowl, of what had been an amazing lentil soup, and a cold, half finished plate of smoked Orange Roughy and mash (which he'd ordered on the server's recommendation). Harry counted out the right amount plus tip from the colourful Australian banknotes in his wallet and laid them down.

Gulping down the last of his third pint, Harry stood, quickly grabbing the table as the room spun around him and his headache seemed to intensify. The pub he'd chosen hadn't been on the main thorough-fare, and had had a nice quiet atmosphere when he'd come in. At the time he thought it had suited his mood, but as the dinner rush had begun to peak, the pub had filled up and was now full of friendly and very loud Aussies. For Harry, whose headache had developed into a migraine somewhere near the end of his first pint and halfway through the soup, it had been a struggle to finish his meal. And now that the world spinning around him and his migraine had upgraded to an intense throbbing, he wasn't sure he'd even be able to make it back to his hotel.

After waving down a cab on the street, Harry put his head against the glass of the cab window and closed his eyes. The glass seemed to be very cold against his warm face, even in the fall heat.

It seemed to Harry that he had barely closed and again opened his eyes, when the cab pulled up in front of his hotel. Weeks later, Harry was able to pin-points this moment, when the world went incredibly fuzzy, as the moment when he should have realised that something was wrong. He managed to hand the driver thirty dollars and stumble out of the cab, when he felt a wetness on his lips. It was the spinning in his head, making him to look down at his feet, that made him realise the wetness on his face and the blood splatters all over the ground were from him.

A muffled, "Sir, are you alright?" caught him off guard and he swung his head up to look at the speaker. Unfortunately, his head took the opportunity to protest and the last thing he saw before he fainted was the maroon uniform of the porter who had taken his luggage to his room.

***

"Perkins, get me a PIV kit and a dose of proluo solution! Someone tell me his vitals!"

"He's developed arrhythmia, Healer."

"Tam, stasis charm and hold! Lowry, was he arrhythmic or did he fall unconscious first?"

"He came in unconscious, Healer, and was just starting to develop the arrhythmia before the stasis."

"What about his blood pressure?"

"205 over 128."

"Fuck. Well, we've got about ten minutes until that stasis won't do us any good. Symptoms lean towards a reaction or a toxin. Lowry, start checking for the most typical allergens in his system first, then look for the most common poisons. Perkins, give me that and get your arse back over there and get me some antihypertensive potion!"

The sound of running feet faded into the distance as what sounded like someone struggling with plastic packaging got closer to the bed.

"Lowry, help me with this PIV and then I'll start checking for the usual suspects of potions and recreational drugs."

The room was filled with a busy silence as the healer and Mediwitch Lowry cast spell after spell.

"Perkins," The healer's strong voice came after a few minutes. "Get that potion in with the Proluo and then start casting diagnosis spells on his major organs."

"What am I looking for?"

"Anything unusual, anything that can help us narrow down what could be causing the arrhythmia or hypertension."

Multiple healing and diagnosis spells were cast, filling the room with whispers and a soft tingling.

"...Healer, patient is in the process of going into renal failure."

"Lowry, what are your results turning up?"

"Nothing, All I'm getting are negatives."

"I don't think we'll get a chance to figure this out before Tam's stasis spell fails. We'll need to treat the symptoms as they come and hope the picture becomes clearer as we go. Perkins, what about his other organs?"

"Liver seems to be holding up, the rest of the digestive system and Respiratory systems are fine."

"What about his Nervous system."

The swishes of a wand was almost deafening in the tense ER.

"Healer, I think you need to check this out for yourself."

"What am I looking for?"

"Check the monoamine levels."

"..."

"Healer, Tam can't hold on much longer."

"Lowry, get ready to start dialysis when Tam takes off the stasis. Perkins, get ready to flush the PIV solutions through his system. In fact, you'd better get another bag prepared with both the antihypertensive and the proluo."

"An advanced system flush?"

"Yes. It won't do much good until his heart is beating regularly to push the PIV solutions through his body, so I need to you use a low level verberare ad corcillum to help his heart keep a steady rhythm."

"But his kidneys-!"

"That's why you must be vigilant with the dialysis, Lowry."

"We could both do it together, Healer Ma-"

"I'm going to be doing a dialysis of my own behind his blood-brain barrier."

"That could kill him!"

"He's already there! If we don't filter the excess tyramine out of his blood, he will die. Don't argue with me Mediwitch Lowry, just get in position. Perkins, you about ready? Good.

"All right there, Mediwizard Tam? You lift the stasis spell on my count and begin helping Lowly try to save his renal system."

There was a stilling pause, similar to the pause a parachuter feels as he steps off the plane for the first time. The pause he feels in his body, before he realises how strong the force of gravity is pulling him to the Earth.

"Three, two, one!"

***

And as he passed in and out of consciousness, the last thing Harry registered was lying in a rather white room with incredibly bright lights as men and women dressed in white and pale blue robes busied about. A few close to him were trying to ask him questions while simultaneously trying to perform spell after spell on his body. All the while, another was trying to force potions into his arm through a complex-looking IV system.

The woozy feeling in his head had intensified even further and he felt himself incapable of speech. But this only lasted a few minutes until someone, with blond hair standing by his left side, performed a rather complex wand movement over his head and Harry vomited all over himself. The people around him seemed to stall for a few seconds before they began to move again in a furry of swishing robes and wands and whispers and bags full of potions. Slumping back on the hard mattress, Harry closed his eyes and let himself drift off into the oblivion.

***

"We're losing him!"

"He's going into cardiac arrest!"

"Clear!"

"Impulsae cordis!" The healer shouted, jabbing his wand in the air. The patient's body jolted off the table for a second before falling back to the hard bed.

"Still no pulse!"

"Impulsae cordis!" The healer shouted again. "Don't die on me Potter!"

***

The next time Harry woke up, the room was pitch black around him. But something felt very different from the room he last remembered. The air didn't smell right and he had the frightening feeling that room was smaller somehow, contained. When he put out his right hand to feel for the edge of the bed, his hand smacked into a wall.

In a panic, he reached out with his left hand and encountered another wall. While telling himself quietly to calm down, Harry reached up to cover his face and felt a dangling chain hit his moving hand. Seizing on this sudden life-line, Harry grabbed the chain and tugged, light spilling into the room.

Or rather, not a room, but the inside of a cupboard that was all too familiar to him. Taking a very deep breath, he turned to the door and pushed it open easily, the lock not caught in its cradle.

Pulling himself out of the cupboard seemed to be much harder than he ever remembered it being before. It seemed his body had grown quite a bit since he'd last been shoved inside, at eleven years old.

Harry touched the wall of the Dursleys’ entryway, the wallpaper was slightly textured beneath his fingertips. The house was silent, not even the hum of the fridge or drip of a tap echoed in the background.

Harry blinked, wondering why the silence seemed to make his headache even worse. If this was a dream, shouldn't the headache he'd been suffering from for weeks, be gone? And not only did his head ache, but his entire body throbbed in a way that made him just want to curl back up on the cot in the cupboard. Shaking his head, he stepped up to the front door and pulled it open.

The world beyond wasn't exactly how he remembered Privet Drive. The sky was thick with grey clouds. Tiny houses dotted a green hilly landscape, each fashioned in older, London-style brick and marble-work façades.

"Well, I don't think I'm in Sydney any more," he muttered to himself, looking around at the village, obviously made with very tiny people in mind.

"Are you a good wizard, or a bad wizard?" A woman's voice sounded to his right, breaking him out of his scrutiny of a very small, bubbling fountain.

He spun around, his hand automatically going to the pocket he usually kept his wand in. Only his pocket was empty and the woman in front of him couldn't be there.

A tall woman in the traditional robes worn by the British Wizengamot watched him cautiously, her wand in front of her and her greying auburn hair dull in the dark light.

"You can't be here," Harry said more to himself than to the woman, "You're dead."

The woman cocked an eyebrow, "I assure you, I am very much alive, otherwise, how could I be here, talking to you. And you did not answer my question, young man. Are you a good wizard or a bad one?"

Harry shook his head, everything felt so real, that was what was worrying.

"Well, I suppose you must be a good wizard, or you would not have done what you did. I am Amelia Bones, the witch of the North."

"What exactly am I to have done?"

"Well, I did not witness it myself, but the Goblins called me in a panic, saying some new wizard had dropped a house on the Wicked Wizard of the East."

"...Who?" Harry felt confused.

"The Wicked Wizard of the East," Madam Bones pointed her want to the side of the house. "We dare not speak his true name."

Harry's gut clenched as he walked around the side of the house to where a pair of bare, bony, white legs, their feet clad in Green Flash Plimsolls, stuck out from beneath the house.

A very familiar dog sat just beyond the feet, staring hungrily at the trainers.

Madame Bones caught him watching the dog and smiled. "Oh, I didn't mean Padfoot, I meant He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," she motioned to the feet. "He's been terrorizing the poor Goblins for many months. It was a very brave thing you did, dropping your house on him."

"But I didn't-" Harry scratched his head.

Just then, Padfoot looked up, his brown eyes painfully familiar, and began to bark. The loud pop of Apparition followed, along with a maddening screech.

"Who killed my Master!" The frightening figure of Bellatrix Lestrange shrieked. "Who killed him! Was it you?!" She turned towards Madam Bones.

"It was not," the older woman's nostrils flared in anger. "But I wish I had."

"Leave her alone!" Harry stood tall, "It was me, I killed him."

Bellatrix's dark eyes, filled with mad rage, turned towards him. She raised her wand and cast a Crucio at Harry, only to be blocked by quick shield charm, cast by Madam Bones.

"Now, now Lestrange, should you not be worrying about your Master's magic shoes, over revenge?"

Bellatrix's crazed face paled and she pushed past Harry to get to the still feet. But as she reached for the Green Flash Plimsolls, they seemed to disappear and the legs turned to ash.

"No, no, NO! They're gone!" She pulled at her own hair violently. Turning rapidly she looked down at Harry's feet, now clad in the green pumps. "Those are mine!" She stalked towards Harry, her claw-like hands in front of her, reaching for him.

A stinging hex from Madam Bones had Bellatrix jumping backwards, her face twisted in anger. "You can't protect him forever, Bones!" Her frightening visage turned back to Harry, "And when you're alone, I will make you wish you were never born."

A loud crack sounded as Bellatrix Disapparated.

"Well," Madam Bones sighed, "That's that. You can come out now," she called to the village.

The tiny doors opened and well-dressed Goblins slowly crept out towards the town green, where the Dursleys’ house was currently parked.

"Is He really dead?" asked an incredibly tiny goblin, that Harry assumed was a child.

"Yes child." Madam Bones smiled, her square jaw softening.

The Goblins began whispering excitedly amongst each other, making the once silent village suddenly full of noise. It was at that time that Harry's headache began to pound, as if to remind him that it was still there.

A wet nose poked his hand and Harry looked down to Padfoot, who now sat beside him, rubbing the side of his furry head against Harry's jeans.

"Looks like you've made a friend." Madam Bones smiled distantly. "He's very loyal. He'll follow you to ends of the Earth, or wherever your journey takes you."

"My journey?" Harry frowned, rubbing his hand through Padfoot’s thick fur. "I don't really have anywhere to go. As it is, I don't even know where I am."

Madam Bones tilted her head as she watched him, her forehead wrinkling in thought. "You're in Gobbledegook Street, Gringotts Village of course, in the county of Diagon Alley."

"Of course," Harry snorted to himself. "This dream is rather surreal."

"You're not dreaming," Madam Bones scowled at him.

"Of course not," Harry said sarcastically as he knelt to scratch Padfoot's exposed belly.

A sharp slap across his cheek had him jerking back in surprise. "Does that feel like a dream?" Madam Bones lowered her hand.

Harry rubbed his jaw, "I suppose not." There was a long silence as Harry considered his options. "Suppose this isn't a dream, what do I do now?"

"Only you can decide that; but I would suggest moving on from here. Though you have freed our world from the biggest foe we've seen since Grindelwald, you have evoked the wrath of the Wicked Witch of the West in doing so. And I'm afraid, Madam Lestrange can be quite violent when provoked."

"Grindelwald?" Harry looked up Madam Bones. Was this some strange alternate reality?

She nodded, "He was defeated by Albus Dumbledore years ago."

"Dumbledore? Is he here?"

She shook her head, "He's the Great Wizard of Hogwarts. At one time he travelled extensively amongst the beings of this land, giving advice and performing magic, but it's been years since anyone has seen him outside of the castle walls."

Harry stood quickly. Ever since he'd destroyed Voldemort in the real world, or at least what he thought that had been the real world, he'd wanted to have a chance to talk to Dumbledore again. "How do I get to Hogwarts?"

"Well you could just Apparate there, but you don't seem to have a wand. I would make you a portkey, but their creation is controlled by the Ministry and I don't have the authority to make them. I suppose you'll just have to walk."

"Which way do I go?" His gaze darted around the village.

The Goblins were watching him silently now, their dark eyes huge and eerie as they stared up at him. "Well it's obvious," spoke a goblin towards the back, that looked suspiciously like Griphook, "Follow the Yellow Brick Road," he pointed below their feet.

Harry looked down at the yellow bricks that started in a swirl and led off towards one edge of the village. "I feel like I should have known that. Well then," he patted Padfoot's head, "I suppose I should get going."

Madam Bones nodded at him, "Good luck."

Harry nodded absently and started down the road. When he'd first seen Amelia Bones after he'd walked out of his Aunt and Uncle's house, he thought he had known her. But his head had slowly become fuzzy as the conversation progressed and now he wasn't quite sure.

***

Harry followed the road for a few hours at a rather sedate pace, before he had to stop. Just ahead, the yellow road was crossed by another, equally yellow, brick road.

Harry looked down at Padfoot, who had stopped beside him. "Now which way do we go? When that goblin said follow the Yellow Brick Road, he didn't mention that there was more than one."

The dog looked up at him, panting.

Harry felt his head throb as he looked down at the large dog, as if his body was trying to tell him that he was forgetting something important. "I keep having this feeling, that you should be able to talk." Harry looked away absently, following the three different paths with his eyes. "I must be going crazy."

"I'll say!" A cheerful voice boomed. "Dogs aren't supposed to talk! Or, at least I think they don't. Well at least, I think I would think that, if I could think."

Harry jumped. "Whose there?"

"Over here," the voice called from his left.

Harry turned towards a corn field in the direction of the voice.

"Hi," an extremely red-headed Scarecrow, who was hanging from a heavy post, greeted. "You don't think you could get me down, do you? I wouldn't bother you, only it's chafing my bits something horrible, if you get my drift." he waggled his eyebrows.

"Oh, of course." Harry walked around and pushed the scarecrow up and off the post.

"Great Merlin, that's feels good!" the animated object cried as he stretched down to touch his toes. "Thanks by the way! You have no idea how long I've been hanging around, waiting for someone to help me down. Hanging around, get it?" The Scarecrow elbowed Harry in the ribs.

Harry grimaced and looked back at the grinning Scarecrow curiously, this man looked familiar as well. "I'm Harry."

"Hiya Harry." The Scarecrow gripped his hand in mimicry of a squeezing handshake. "My name's Fred."

Fred the Scarecrow looked down at Padfoot, who had come to rest beside Harry. "Padfoot!" he greeted enthusiastically. "It's good to see you again."

"Do you know him?" Harry asked quizzically.

"Oh yeah. Padfoot and I go way back! Just last week, he tried to chew off my right leg." Fred looked up at Harry with a face-splitting smile, "But I overheard you talking about the road. That way goes somewhere very nice, and so does that one. Oh, and you can't forget that one, or that one."

"I'm trying to get to Hogwarts."

"Ah. Well, I think that way goes towards the Castle," Fred pointed down the path that continued straight from the one Harry had come in on.

"Lovely, thanks. Well, good luck with all the scarecrowing business." Harry nodded towards Fred's outfit.

"Do you think I could join you? I've head that Albus Dumbledore lives at Hogwarts and that he's the most powerful wizard that's ever lived." Fred paused, making sure Harry was listening, "You see, I don't have a brain, so hanging around all day trying to scare crows, with only my own thoughts for comfort, is rather boring. And I bet that Dumbledore could help me out with that. The having no brain, I mean, not a change in profession."

Harry shrugged, he couldn’t care less. "Sure, why not."

***

Harry, Fred the Scarecrow and Padfoot the dog walked the next three hours in silence. Well, Harry and Padfoot walked in silence, while Fred kept a running commentary on things he found funny about the scenery or odd travellers he'd seen while stuck in the corn field.

The further the trio went along the Yellow Brick Road, the stranger the landscape seemed to get. The path soon led them into a rather shady looking forest, with big, dark trees growing close to the road, their roots occasionally breaking the stone path. The atmosphere amongst the dark trees was oppressive, to the point that even Fred finally shut up, as his blue eyes darted between the trees nervously. Harry himself, could have sworn that the trees were whispering to each other.

The trio picked up its pace, as if breaking into a power walk would help them escape the low, sour feeling in the pit of their stomachs.

As they walked, the oppressive gloomy trees began to break up a bit, making this section of the forest brighter. Soon though, they came upon a fork in the road. While both ways were paved in yellow brick and stone, one way led out into a bright field covered in red poppies and the other was more narrow and led back into the darkest parts of the forest.

Having had enough of the dark trees, Harry gestured towards the wider road. "Let’s go this way."

"But we don't know if that's the way to Hogwarts," Fred the Scarecrow's face was scrunched in concern.

"Yeah, but we don't actually know the right way, and that path is still bricked in yellow."

"Well, we could ask someone."

"Who?!" Harry looked incredulously at Fred, gesturing around at the whispering trees.

"Someone in there?" Fred pointed at a pub that Harry had not previously noticed, a bit further up the darker road.

Harry scowled down at his green pumps, which were turning out to be surprisingly comfortable, as the trio made their way over to the little brown building, almost hidden amongst the shadows of the trees.

A battered wooden sign hung over the door, expressing the words The Marauders in chipped yellow and red paint.

The first thing Harry noticed after entering through the squeaky door, was that the interior seemed to be even darker than that of the ominous forest, though the smoke clogging the air probably didn't help.

The pub was smaller inside than it had seemed from the outside, the space crowded with tables, a small bar and a upright Forster piano, its edges nicked and carvings faded. The place was filled just over a third, with patrons. The atmosphere of the pub was that of a jazz singer being lovingly suffocated, the muted conversation was slow and regretful, violence barely held back. Most of the patrons were sitting at the tables in the most shady of spots and Harry swore at one table there was a fanged vampire and a winged veela staring longingly into each other's eyes.

Taking a deep breath for courage, though the lungful of smoke made him cough, Harry trudged over to the bar where a rather sedate-looking, tawny-haired man was drying glasses with a well-washed towel.

The man smiled kindly at him, his unusual amber eyes soft. "I've never seen you around here before. What can I do for you?" His voice was warm, his accent rich and the sound of it seemed very familiar.

"We need to get to Hogwarts and I was wondering which path..." Harry drifted into silence as his eyes locked with a lion sitting in one of the dark corners.

A sharp pain shot through Harry's already aching head as a name spilled, involuntarily, off his lips. "Neville?" The man's face struck something very deep inside his soul.

Another being, who seemed to be entirely made of tin, was sitting just across from the lion, drawing circles in the condensation on his pint.

"Oh do you know him?" The tawny-haired man asked curiously. "I don't know him very well myself, I only met him a few months ago."

"I-I think so," Harry rubbed his temple. He felt like he knew Neville, intimately. He suddenly felt very angry at himself for not being able to remember more than Neville's face and name.

Neville the lion stared back at Harry, his nose twitching in, what seemed to be confusion.

"Harry," Fred spoke in his ear, "Aren't you going to ask the man, which way to Hogwarts?"

Harry forced himself to break away from that intense stare, to look at Fred, "Err, yeah." Then turning to the bartender, "We were wondering which path to take to get to Hogwarts."

The bartender nodded and put down the glass he'd been drying. "Both paths eventually lead to the castle, but if you keep on the path that winds back through the forest, it will take you twice as long to get there. On the other path, the castle's only a four hour walk. I must warn you though, if you go through the field of poppies, they-"

Harry nodded, "That's exactly what I wanted to know, thank-you." He could feel the lion's intense stare, without even looking, and cold sweat began to gather on the back of his neck. He needed to get out of here quick.

Motioning for Fred to follow, Harry made his way out of the pub and collected Padfoot from where he was waiting outside.

***

"Do you think they're following us, or are just headed the same way?" Fred asked as they turned onto the other path.

"What do you mean?" Harry turned to look behind them.

It seemed Neville the lion and the man made of tin, were following them from a distance. The tin man was carrying an axe that was propped up on his shoulder, the blade towards Harry and Fred. Harry gulped and wiped his sweaty palms down his white polo and blue jeans.

"Hi!" Fred shouted to the pair, in cheerful greeting.

The duo paused for a moment and looked at each other, before closing the distance between them. Padfoot barked once and then stepped in front of Harry and sat on his haunches.

"Hi," The tin man smiled cheerfully back, when they had gotten within speaking distance. "I'm Cedric the Tin Man."

"Nice to meet you, Cedric," Fred grinned cheerfully. "I'm Fred, this is Harry and that's Padfoot," Fred pointed to the dog. We're off to see Albus Dumbledore, the Wizard Great of Hogwarts."

"Do I know you," Neville the lion was staring at Harry intently, "I feel like I should know you."

Harry nodded, "I feel the same."

An awkward silence spread out between the group.

Harry wasn't surprised when Fred broke the silence, the scarecrow didn't seem to like silence. "When we get to Hogwarts, I'm going to ask Dumbledore if he can magic me up a brain and Harry here just wants to go home."

Harry turned towards Fred and gave him a strange look. "Why would you say that? I never said that I wanted to go home." The truth was, Harry couldn't remember what he had wanted to ask Albus Dumbledore.

Fred shrugged, looking puzzled. "It just seemed like the right thing to say."

"Can we come with you?" Neville asked quietly, "Then maybe Cedric could ask for a heart, he's always wanted one."

"What would you ask for?" Harry asked shyly. There was something about Neville the lion that attracted Harry. He couldn't put his finger on what, but it made him feel hesitant and shy.

"My memories. When I woke up in the forest a few months ago, I couldn't remember how I got there, or what had happened to me before."

Harry nodded, "Me too."

"No one can," It was the first time Harry had ever seen Fred look solemn. "We've all been there. Sometimes we get flashes of things that happened in our past. But mostly we just accept it and move on."

Harry blinked, Fred had never mentioned this before.

Another silence settled over the group, but this time it was oppressive and heavy.

Cedric the tin man coughed and looked up, "Shall we?" He motioned to the path.

***

Once they were free of the forest, Harry could see the great castle of Hogwarts, sitting regally in the distance.

Seeing as how a short cut through the field would get them there much faster than the long winding path, Harry immediately moved to step into the field of flowers when a hand clamped around Harry's arm.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Cedric the tin man's face was long and serious. "Not everything is as it appears."

Harry nodded and the quintet started down the winding path.

***

The doors to the castle were huge and a bit intimidating. After a second of standing around, looking at each other, Harry sighed and stepped up to knock.

There were a few minutes of silence before a small door, about a foot over their heads, opened and a greasy-haired man leaned out.

"Yes?" The man asked in a deep, silky voice, his dark eyes full of animosity. His nose, large and hooked, and his sallow complexion only added to his air of contempt.

"We'd like to see the Great Wizard Dumbledore." Harry nodded as an outward show of respect.

"I'm afraid that's impossible. No one sees Dumbledore without explicit invitation."

"But the Good Witch of the North sent Harry here!" Fred chipped in helpfully.

"Really." His tone dripping with disbelief.

"Yeah!" Fred taunted back. "And she gave him those nifty shoes."

The greasy-haired man leaned out the door and looked down at Harry's Green Flash Plimsolls, his face twisting in a sour frown. "I see." There was a pause as the man leaned back in and seemed to be contemplating the situation. Finally he sighed and said, "Come in."

The small door closed and after a few seconds, the large doors squeaked open.

"Follow me," The sallow man said, disappearing into the dark castle.

The group hurried after the man, whose black robes billowed out behind him, not wanting to get lost in the confusing maze that made up the castle's halls.

Finally they were lead up a moving staircase and into a bright office filled with books and silver instruments. The walls were bare as if they were missing something salient.

A very old man stood near the back wall, looking out a window at the landscape that surrounded Hogwarts. He wore bright purple robes, adorned with shining yellow stars that almost seemed to dance in patterns on the material, and he had an incredibly long white beard that his left hand was stroking evenly.

"Albus," The scowling greasy-haired man said.

"Ah, Severus, I see you've brought guests." Albus Dumbledore turned to face them. He smiled absently at the group until his gaze rested on Harry, at which time his face paled and his eyes widened. "Harry! What are you doing here? You're not due for years."

"I'm sorry Sir, but do you know me?" Harry frowned up at the older man.

Dumbledore mumbled something about memories before shaking his head and locking eyes with Harry. "You need to go back, your time is not finished."

"I don't know what you mean." Harry's brows knit in confusion.

Dumbledore brought up a long, cloth covered arm and pointed it at Harry. The thin hand that poked out from beneath the voluminous robes held a long, slender wooden wand. Harry blinked as the hand swished the wand, the old man's lips moving as he spoke a quiet phrase.

Harry felt the throbbing headache he'd been trying to ignore, explode and he fell to he knees.

"Harry!" his three travelling companions shouted, Padfoot was howling behind them.

"It's time to go back to them," Dumbledore murmured.

"Them who?" Fred spoke, loudly.

"Can't you hear them, Harry? They're calling for you."

Harry closed his eyes against the pain, his hands grasping the sides of his head. It was then that he heard it, there was a loud buzzing that seemed never to stop, but was occasionally drowned out by the sound of people rushing about and shouting.

Perkins, get over here and force air into his lungs, his brain's beginning to shut down!"

"Healer, his kidneys are shutting down!"

"What have you done to me?!" Harry tried to shout over the loud noises that pressed against his skull. He cracked open his eyes and stared around at the people surrounding him. None of what he could hear in his head seemed to actually be happening.

His companions were all speaking to him, but he could hear none of what they were saying over the din in his head. Dumbledore was waving his wand in an intricate pattern, before he pointed it at Harry. Harry felt a rush of magic sweep through him as the old man's lips formed a very distinct, "remember".

The magic pushed him back on the floor as memories rushed through his mind and his life came rushing back to him.

Staring up at the stone ceiling, he watched as those in attendance gathered around him. The edges of his vision began to blur as he caught Neville's eye.

He realised how funny his boyfriend looked dressed up as a lion. A rush of pain swept through his body as he remembered how Neville had died so slowly in that bleak St. Mungo's hospital room. He remembered how day after day, he had sat at his lover's side, watching the once vibrant man wither. He remembered how the Healers had realised that Neville had been exposed to a small amount of Nagini's poison, all those years ago. The venom had circulated through his blood stream, destroying one organ after another, until Neville's body could no longer function. He remembered how he blamed himself for not being the one to kill Nagini himself, how he had never noticed that Neville's constant feeling of being "under-the-weather" was a symptom of something much bigger.

The room began to fade around Harry and he tried to stretch his hand up to Neville, only his body wouldn't move.

"Neville!" he cried as his boyfriend began to fade from view. "I love you!"

***

The first thing Harry was conscious of was darkness. The next was the sound of a quiet beeping. His body ached all over, but surprisingly his head – which had been in constant pain, last he remembered – was only aching the sort of ache one felt after getting stitches, once the anaesthesia wore off.

The soft beeping began to quicken as he groaned and tried to move his head away from the light, that seemed to be pressing against his closed eyes from all sides.

"Is the light too bright?" Came the soft, oddly accented voice of an older woman. He heard the sound of footsteps around him, then the sound of a chain sliding against something, before the painful light was darkened. "Now is that better, dear?"

Harry slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the kindly-looking woman in her sixties, standing next to his bedside, clothed in light blue robes.

Harry moaned, and tries to open his chapped lips.

"Here." the woman held a cup with a bendy-straw to Harry's mouth.

Sipping the water helped his dry mouth and throat, but even the energy it took to lift his head and sip, seemed to tire him. By the time the woman, who he assumed was a nurse, turned to put the cup on a table, Harry had slumped back on the pillow and shut his eyes.

The last thing he remembered was the feeling of a cool hand on his overly-warm brow.

***

Over the next few days, he awoke for short periods of time before falling back asleep. It was during one of those times that he finally noticed he wasn't alone in the room. Two other patients shared the room, with curtains half closed in the space between them, so he could only see their legs. He was quite chuffed that at least he got the bed closest to the window.

The odd thing was about the other two patients was, in all of the time he'd actually spent awake, neither patient had moved or made noise. This worried him. He remembered that visit to see Neville and how he had found him still, cold and quiet.

Even his exhaustion didn't keep the fear that he was rooming with two dead bodies, at bay. Over the next two days he often woke from nightmares where Neville was dying in the bed next to Harry and not even being unable to get out of his bed to go to him.

His memory of the strange Wizard of Oz-like place was still incredibly vivid in his mind and even now he was confused over how real it had felt.

It was on the third day since he'd first awakened, after having spent an hour lying awake in slight fear of the other beds, that he watched a young woman in light blue robes come in and check the other two patients. When she moved on from each one without calling out for other staff, or looking worried, he figured they must still be alive, and tried to relax in his horribly hard, hospital bed.

"Ah, finally awake now, are we," She smiled down at him when she reached his bedside. "No one's been able to catch you awake since you first woke a few days ago. Think you can stay awake a big longer? Your healer wanted to get a word with you."

Harry nodded and leaned back against the pillows as the young woman left the room.

After about a half an hour of staring at the ceiling and then out the window, a tall man in white robes entered the room. Dragging a chair out of the corner of the room, he sat down next to Harry's bed and crossed his legs. Leaning a clipboard against leg and pulling a pen out of the pocket on his chest, he smiled over at Harry.

"So you're finally awake. How are you feeling?" the blond man asked.

"Malfoy?!" Harry rubbed his tired eyes in astonishment, sure he was still sleeping.

"One and the same." Draco sodding Malfoy brushed his long fringe out of his eyes, his mouth curved in a soft smile.

"But-"

"We can skip the small talk if you prefer. You're looking pretty tired, so I'm sure you'd rather get some rest instead of hashing everything out. How about I start us off, so we can get to your case quicker. I wanted to be a healer after the war, but found it impossible to get accepted to any British or European Wizarding Universities; because of my previous affiliations. When I realised that if I really wanted to be a healer, I'd have to leave Britain, I applied to some schools in America, Australia and New Zeland. I was accepted to St. Macquarie's Healing Academy, here in Sydney and came down. I spent five years in uni, one as an intern, one as a resident and am now a permanent doctor here at Corcillum Hospital, Sydney. Now that that's out of the way, I'll reiterate, how are you feeling?"

"Uh," Harry stared dumbly at Malfoy, trying to take in all the information that had been dumped on him. "Fine I guess."

"No, how are you truly feeling, Potter?"

Harry shrugged and looked down at his hands, which were folded on his lap. He didn't quite know what to make of this kinder, more open Malfoy.

Malfoy sighed. "Do you know why you’re here at Corcillum?"

Harry shook his head and looked back up to catch what he thought was exasperation and worry in Malfoy's grey eyes.

"It took us a days of testing, but we finally figured it out. Apparently, you've been taking a Muggle drug called an MAOI or monoamine oxidase inhibitor. I'm sure this isn't news to you, since according to your blood tests, you'd been taking a rather high dosage for at least two weeks, but probably longer." He continued when he saw Harry nodding, "Why have you been taking these? I can't imagine any healer who would put you on them, they're incredibly dangerous and can have deadly side-effects."

Harry cleared his throat nervously, "I wasn't given them by a healer, I was prescribed them by a Muggle doctor called a psychiatrist."

Malfoy didn't roll his eyes, but the look on his face told Harry that he wanted to. "I know what a psychiatrist is and I know what MAOIs are. I know what MAOIs do, which is why I am asking, why were you taking them?"

Harry was surprised by the patience in Malfoy's voice, surprised enough to start talking. "After the war, I had trouble adjusting, but with the help of..." Harry paused and swallowed deeply. "With the help of my partner, I was able to function."

Malfoy nodded, and Harry wondered if that pointy-face was actually reflecting sympathy, or if Harry was imagining it.

"Well, when he died, after a long, drawn-out illness... No, it was before that. When he first got admitted to St. Mungo’s, I lost a lot of my support basis. I had to be... I was diagnosed with depression by a Muggle doctor that I trusted and started on low level anti-depressant. They didn't seem to do anything for me though, so we kept upping the dose or changing it to something new. Well, the different medications help, when they gave any, didn't last for more than a week or two. Finally the doctor suggested these, he said they were a last resort, but they might work, and they've seemed to."

"Why didn't you just go to a healer, we have much more effective and less dangerous potions or therapies that you could have tried. And you said your partner was in St. Mungo’s, it would have been easy for you to get an appointment to see the appropriate type of healer."

Harry shook his head slightly, "No. Just after the war, I went to a healer at St. Mungo’s for something different and by the next morning it was in the Daily Prophet. I didn't want this to end up there too, this was... private."

Malfoy nodded, but didn't look happy. "Could you name some of the drugs you've taken?"

Harry named off the eleven or twelve of the drugs that he could remember, before giving Malfoy his doctor's contact information.

"What do my medications have to do with why I'm here?" Harry asked as Malfoy's pen, on the clipboard, began to slow.

"They are the reason you're here, actually. I'm not surprised that the lower level antidepressants didn't work for you. While your mother was muggleborn, you do have to remember that your father was a pure-blood and you are also a very powerful wizard-"

"What does blood purity have to do with this?" Harry demanded, clenching his blanket.

Malfoy gave him a dirty look, "Nothing, I wasn't talking about blood purity. If you had let me finish my sentence, I would have said that Muggle drugs actually do little for Wizards. Because our bodies actually use magic to function, Muggle drugs, especially in half-bloods and pure-bloods, don't work very well. They can help a bit, but in general, because they are made to help non-magical people heal, they don't work well for magical people. But that's not to say that Muggle medicine isn't quite ingenious. A lot of the newer medical potions we use to treat our patients with, are based on Muggle medicine theories and concepts. There are even some new potions that use similar bases to Muggle medicine."

By the end of Malfoy's explanation, Harry had relaxed and was listening attentively to what his healer was saying.

"Now, are you going to listen to what I have to say, without assuming I'm still the same prejudiced child I was when we were at Hogwarts together?"

Harry nodded hesitantly.

"Good. One of the bigger problems with taking Muggle prescriptions, for Muggles or Wizards, are the side-effects. The drugs you were on, the MAOIs, especially have quite severe side-effects. In fact, some of these side-effects can be deadly, if you don't monitor your diet closely. Which you seem to have not. Did your Muggle doctor tell you nothing about the dietary restrictions when taking this drug?"

Harry shrugged.

"So you trusted a Muggle doctor enough to prescribe you dangerous medicines, but not enough to heed his warning about the side-effects?" Malfoy's voice, which was slowly getting louder and louder, dripped with incredulity.

"At the time, I wasn't in much of a state to listen, I was still in major withdrawal from the medication he'd previously had me on," Harry responded defensively, staring back at Malfoy.

Malfoy's eyes softened. "Well, one of the reasons that MAOIs are considered a last resort for antidepressants, is because they stop an enzyme in your brain called monoamine oxidase from breaking down monoamines. Monoamines are the transmitters in your brain that control the chemicals and hormonal levels in your body, like serotonin and dopamine, which as you know have a play in your emotional state.

"Now tyramine is a substance found in certain foods that actually triggers your body into producing monoamine oxidase. MAOIs tell your body to stop producing tyramine, which is an MAO enzyme. So if you're taking these drugs and you get a lot of excess tyramine in your body, from these foods, it triggers a reaction and your body begins fighting against itself. This effect, can cause life threatening side-effects, most commonly starting with a hypertensive crisis, which is why you ended up in emergency."

"All of this happened only because I ate something I shouldn't have?" Harry looked over at Malfoy sceptically. When Malfoy had first come into the room, Harry would have doubted that Malfoy, even as a healer, would know anything about Muggle medicine. He was now beginning to think that he had been wrong in his assumption.

"No, with how high your blood pressure was and how badly your kidneys were damaged, this incident could have only happened by digesting a very large amount tyramine. A meal of the wrong types of food like cheeses, legumes, some meats and alcohol, combined with quite a bit of exposure to tyramine over a long period of time, could have caused your symptoms.

"You were just incredibly lucky you didn't die. Well, you did die, but we were able to bring you back."

Harry paled, his mind going back to what he had thought had been just a very vivid dream of long-past loved ones. If he had died, maybe the dream... He shook his head. "So, I guess I should find out what foods I should be avoiding."

Malfoy shook his head. "That's not necessary now. We've completely purged your system of the MAOIs and the build-up of tyramine, which is why you were unconscious for a full three days. If your magic hadn't protected you, like it did and kept you unconscious, we would have put you into a magical coma, as you would have been in a lot of pain from the rapid withdrawal.

"I'll ask you not to ever go back on the MAOIs again. We can manage your depression in different ways, with a lot less side-effects or risks to your health. Most of them are potion therapies, all which your body will take to much better, than any prescription drug you could get from a Muggle doctor."

Harry nodded and watched with dull eyes as Malfoy stood.

"As most of my patients are in more critical condition and down on the second floor, your care for the remainder of your stay here at Corcillum will be handled by a different healer. I will pass all of the information you've given me to Healer Singh and he will be able to get you on a treatment plan for your depression if you wish."

Malfoy straightened and tucked the clipboard under his arm. "If you have any questions or concerns, you may address them to your new healer, Matron Quinn or any of the mediwitches or wizards."

Harry looked up at Malfoy in surprise and confusion.

"Good luck, Harry." Malfoy whispered his first name so softly, that Harry almost missed it. The Healer took a good long look at him, nodded and strode out of the room as if he had somewhere important to be.

***

Harry's stay in the quiet room would have been painfully slow if not for Kate. Kate, or Mediwitch Lowry, was the young mediwitch he had seen come in and check on the other two patients earlier. She'd first introduced herself just a while after he'd gotten the chance to met Malfoy again, on that third day, after waking up in hospital. She had sat and chattered away to him that first day, not even batting an eyelash when he hardly said a word back.

It was after that, that she started to come around regularly, and the two developed a steadily growing friendship. Harry suddenly found himself telling her things he'd never spoken to anyone else about, like how guilty he'd felt when he'd learned the cause of Neville's slow death and how he felt that magic had let him down when he looked back over everything that had happened to him in his life. She returned the favour by telling him funny stories about patients she'd treated, or heart-wrenching tales of growing up on her father's dying sheep ranch.

But it was on that first day, when they had met only a half hour after Malfoy had left the room, that Kate said something to Harry that he couldn't get out of his mind for rest of his stay in hospital.

She had walked into the room swiftly, the soft noise of her plimsoll'd feet hitting the linoed floor. The sound had startled him out of his contemplation of Sydney's downtown, just outside his window.

She had plunked down on the chair Malfoy had left beside his bed, holding two lidded, paper coffee cups, smelling suspiciously of tea. "I'm Mediwitch Kathrine Lowry," She'd smiled and set the cup in her right hand down on top of the bedside table. "But that's a mouthful, so you can call me Kate."

"H-Harry," Harry had stuttered out, surprised that someone was talking to him, personably, for the first time in three days.

"Sorry that this is the first time we've had to talk, but you sleep a lot." Her thin lips had stretched into a playful smile. She'd reached over with her left hand, extending the paper coffee cup to Harry.

It'd been full of an Earl Grey blend, and was wonderfully good.

"I was part of the team that worked on you when you first came into the ER. I've been checking on you daily since you were moved up here and away from where I work in the ICU."

"Really?" Harry had frowned at her.

"Yep. I'm part of the medi team that supports the healers there in the ICU, one of whom is Healer Malfoy."

Harry had looked away, making an effort not to cross his arms defensively. "I don't know why that would matter to me."

Her tone was still been playful when she replied, letting him know she hadn't taken offence, "Draco told me a bit about your relationship in school and the war."

Harry'd shrugged.

She had been silent for a minute, as if weighing his expression, before she leaning forward. "Our team doesn't normally work in the ER," she'd confided conspiratorially. "But Dragon Pox was going around, it's highly contagious you know, and when three healers and four medis were sent home sick from the ER; Healer Malfoy, Mediwizard Perkins and myself were some of other hospital staff members conscripted to help in the ER. It's strange when I look back on it," a far-away look crossing her face. "It seems almost like fate that we were there when you came in."

Harry had frowned at her.

Seeing his expression, she'd continued. "Because we work in the ICU or Intensive Care Unit, we were the perfect people for your case. Oh sure, any of the healers in the hospital could have been sent down and theoretically had the skills to saved you. But doesn't it seem strange, that a team specialising and experienced in crisis situations was the one that got your case? It was incredibly crowded that night, so it was very good fortune that your case got to our team. I don't think many other healers would have thought to use a dialysis spell on the nervous centre, to filter out that build-up of tyramine. You could have died if Healer Malfoy hadn't done that," She looked up at him, her face serious. "And you would have died if he hadn't been able to do it exactly right."

Harry shifted uncomfortably and took a sip of his hot tea.

"But what I think convinced me most, convinced me that the spirits of magic must have had some hand in getting you to us, was the look on Draco's face when your heart stopped. I only got a glance because everything was happening so fast, but he'd got this look of pure fear on his face when you flatlined. I've never seen him look like that before, and I've known him for three years now, ever since he started interning here."

Harry blinked down at his tea, not quite able to comprehend what she was saying. After a bit of small talk, solely on her part, Kate left, citing that her break was just about over.

Harry sat in his bed unmoving for a long time, staring at the spot Kate had just vacated, tea growing cold in his hands. All he could hear was Kate's voice saying "I've never seen him look like that before..." over and over again. His mind kept picturing the kindness he'd seen in Malfoy's eyes, only a few hours earlier.

***

Kate was small with dark brown hair and a kind smile. She her eyes that showed an intelligence that was always ready for a quick laugh, or a moment of serious contemplation. For the next two weeks that Harry spent in bed, she quickly became the highlight of what were becoming longer and longer days, as his body recovered and needed less sleep.

On the day after she'd introduced herself, she had told him, in a quiet voice, that his two room mates were coma patients. He'd had a bed in the ICU for the first two days he was out, but had been moved to the fourth floor because of a bed shortage. The fourth floor was normally reserved for long-term patients and was staffed by doctors more concerned on long term care, than emergency situations. The healers had only decided to move him on his second day of unconsciousness, after he'd past the most dangerous part of the detox they'd put him on.

"But why was I put in a room with coma patients?" Harry looked over at Kate curiously.

"You are in a magical hospital, Harry. Though people probably won't make as big a deal of you over you here in Aus, people here do know who you are, so the matron of the floor thought you might be more comfortable in a room where you weren't likely to be recognised."

Harry nodded, but smiled shyly when Kate rolled her eyes at him and then handed him a stack of magazines. Among the magazines, he spotted a few shiny gossip tabloids, a GQ Australia and the tastefully understated cover of a literary magazine called HEAT. Feeling bold, he pulled out the literary magazine and looked up at Kate with a crocked eyebrow.

"I heard that Heat magazine is really popular in Britain, so I though you might like a copy."

Harry laughed quietly at Kate's pun for a few seconds, before stopping suddenly when he realised that it was the first time he could remember himself laughing in years.

Kate must have seen something in his face, because she leaned over and patted his knee kindly.

***

Harry spent the next week and a half mostly in silent contemplation, sleeping or reading the books and magazines that Kate regularly brought for him. By the time he'd been in the hospital two and a half weeks, he was beginning to make slow walks to the hospital cafeteria for some tea, at first with the help of a mediwitch, and later, by himself. While it was good to get back on his feet, he was beginning to feel rather tired of being in hospital. So it was a relief when his new healer, a Healer Singh, told him one morning that he would be discharged the next day.

"Normally," the healer had informed him as he wrote in Harry's chart. "Someone recovering from a tyramine overdose wouldn't be kept in hospital this long, but considering that for you, to get home you'd have to take an international portkey or a Muggle plane. Those kinds of travel are not good for damaged brains, so we had to keep you here to let your brain heal from the bruising it received during treatment. Had we let you go after four days of bed rest, as we usually would have, there was a very real chance that you would have had a brain aneurysm on your way home.

"But our newest scans of your brain are showing it in good health, so I am prepared to sign the papers for your release tomorrow morning."

"Oh," Harry had looked up at the healer, using his hand to push the bridge of his glasses, back up his nose.

While Harry was more than ready to leave the hospital, he wasn't sure how he felt about having to say goodbye to Kate or how his feelings had evolved towards Malfoy in the time he'd been here. Kate had told him quite a few stories about the Malfoy she knew, that shed a whole new light on the man's personality and humour. Harry was beginning to worry if he wasn't falling a bit in love with this new Malfoy, even though he had only had the chance to talk to him once since his internment here.

***

Harry finished dressing in the clothes he'd been admitted in, they were newly washed, though they had the sterile smell that all the hospital linens seemed to retain. As he put on his glasses and sat down on the bed to put on his trainers, Kate breezed through the door, a gentle grin on her face.

"So," she said as she approached his bed.

"So," Harry said back.

"Congratulations on finally getting discharged. What are you going to do now?"

"I guess that first, I have to find a new hotel to stay in, before I can either try to arrange something with the airline I had my return flight booked through, or push through paperwork for an international portkey back to Britain, with your ministry."

Kate shook her head. "You're not staying in a hotel, Harry. I've got a guest bedroom with your name on it, for however long your decide to stay."

"I wouldn't want to put you out, Kate."

She tsked before putting her hand on his shoulder, "That's what friends are for."

Harry gave her a watery smile.

"Besides, you have to stay, at least for a while. You can't tell me you don't want to see what could happen between you and Draco."

"Happen? The man hated me when we were younger, he probably still hates me now."

"Hates you? Why would you say that?"

Harry was quiet for a while. "Even if I could read into how he treated me on that first day, or how you described he looked at me that day in the ER, or even how he's changed from your stories, I haven't seen him again since that day over a week ago. He's never come back to talk to me, or stopped by to see how I'm doing."

Kate smiled at him, "Harry, Draco comes by to see you everyday, sometimes twice a day."

"What are you talking about," Harry's face was filled with incredulity.

Kate pointed behind her to the mirror, set into the wall, with her thumb. "That's not a regular mirror Harry, it's a one-sided mirror. I think he hasn't come to talk to you because he's shy."

"Shy? Draco Malfoy?" Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"He thinks your better than him, too good for him and he doesn't want to put his emotions out there for you to trample. I guess he's more... afraid of how you'll react once you learn how he feels for you."

Harry went quiet in contemplation.

"Well, if you can stick around for a bit, I'm almost finished my shift and we can leave together."

Harry nodded at her before turning his back on her and looking out the window. Maybe there was something between Malfoy and him.

***

The air was still humming with the intensity of the days heat, a heat that hadn't even been disbursed by a long afternoon shower. The late October sun had finally gone down, just two hours before, and the sky was still holding onto the last vestiges of the fading light.

Harry paused mid-step as the pocket of his cagoule began to buzz. Since he'd left hospital three days ago, he'd started walking to build his strength back up.

Having not worn the raincoat since he'd been admitted to hospital, Harry was surprised to find that his cellphone was the source of the rather annoying buzz. Though as the phone ran on magic rather than lithium batteries, he wasn't surprised to see it still working.

"Hello?"

"Harry?! We've been trying to get ahold of you for the last week! We were worried you were dead! You missed your plane, no one at your hotel knew where you were, they kept saying you seemed to have checked out early and you never answered your phone! Harry where were you!" Ron took a ragged breath.

"I'm fine Ron, sorry to have worried you, only there's been a change of plan."

"Huh?" Ron sounded confused.

"I don't think I'm coming back."

"What?!"

"It's not that I don't love you guys or England, I just... There are too many reminders there now. And you know I get mobbed every time I step outside my door in England. I haven't been asked for my autograph once here. And no ones ever followed me home or tries to snap photos without my knowledge."

"I know that you hate the fame, Harry. But England's your home, what real reason would you have to stay there?"

"I'm not sure if my main reason will work out yet, but I think I'll be finding out in a minute here."

"Harry, you're not making any sense."

Harry smiled and rolled his eyes, "I know, Ron. But I have a chance here, a chance at happiness. Look mate, how about I phone you in a few hours and let you know how it goes." Harry started walking again as he waited for Ron to respond, determined to finish the last leg of his journey quickly.

"How what goes?"

"Another chance at love." Harry looked up at the house he stopped in front of, checking the street number against the address Kate had provided on a slip of paper.

"Chance at – what?"

"I'll talk to you later, Ron." Harry ended the call before turning off the cell completely off and stuffing it back in his pocket.

Opening the gate, Harry moved up the stone walkway to the front door and knocked.

After waiting a few minutes, the door opened and Draco looked down at him with tired eyes. His blond hair was mussed adorably on one side and he smelt slightly of hospital.

"Potter?"

Harry smiled up a him. He wondered if he had been skilled in Divination, if he would be able to see their future together reflected in those dark grey eyes. "Hello Draco."

/fic


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