Harry paced in St. Mungo's waiting room. He and Luna had wasted no time in blasting spells at the room, using all of their worry and fear to power the magic, trying to aim directly at Verity's face to clear a spot for air. When that hadn't worked, they'd made a path to Verity in less than a minute and worked their hardest to vanish all evidence of the orange stuff.

They couldn't have just transported her to St. Mungo's as she was because the stuff might have surrounded the entire place. By the time they cleared the outside of her body, nearly two minutes had passed, and Harry was beside himself.

They'd pushed Verity into the floo and arrived at St. Mungo's seconds later, and then she'd been carted off, Harry only barely getting a chance to tell a mediwizard what the countercurse was before they were gone.

And hadn't been seen since.

Luna was sitting idly on the chairs nearby, her knees tucked under her chin, humming something to herself.

He hadn't known who to call. Draco would've been the obvious choice, seeing as he knew the most about the orange stuff besides Harry, but Harry didn't know where to floo him, and an owl wouldn't be fast enough. He'd tried Hermione, but she hadn't answered. It was 3 a.m. Australia time.

The doors at the end of the hall burst open, and Harry shot in that direction, keeping pace beside the healer as she walked. He recognised her as one that had taken Verity away before.

"How is she?"

"Mr Potter, you're not next of kin."

"Is her next of kin here?"

"We couldn't get in contact with anyone. It seems she's Muggle-born, and they're out of the country."

He blew out an exasperated breath. "Please, you've got to tell me what's going on."

The healer cut him a glance out of the corner of her eye as they passed through a set of doors. "This area is restricted access, Mr Potter."

"Please."

The healer stopped walking, staring him down. "All I can say is that the curse is very powerful, but unrefined. The countercurse is ineffective for internal organs. We have put Ms Garner under a stasis spell that should hold her for at least 24 hours. The healers will figure something else out by then."

"But what if they don't?"

The healer gave him what could only be described as a shrug, walking away and leaving him alone in the corridor.

He went back to the general access waiting room, finding Luna still waiting in a chair.

"You talked to someone?" she said.

"Things aren't looking good."

"Who told you?"

"Well, she didn't say it exactly, but it was pretty clear, I... Luna, what if Verity... I mean, I'm responsible for all this. I should have sent her a Patronus the second we knew the shop had been compromised, I should've never tried for this stupid idea anyway, I should've—"

"Harry," she stopped him. "The Patronus wouldn't have made a difference. I made the mistake of calling her in and I'm the one who broke the machines."

"You hardly knew anything about the orange stuff! It's not your fault."

"Then it couldn't possibly be yours."

She met his eyes, sustaining the contact for far too long, meaningfully.

"I need to do something. I have to help her."

"What are you planning to do?"

"I don't know. Find Malfoy, I guess. Or Hermione, at least. One of them must be able to figure this out."

"Don't you think you're overlooking the obvious solution?"

"What obvious solution."

She tilted her head at him curiously.

"Luna, what obvious solution?"

ϟ ϟ ϟ

It was Mr Weasley who answered the door.

"Oh! We weren't expecting you. Molly's just in the sitting room. Would you like to—"

"I need to talk to George."

Mr Weasley's expression shuttered, a little light falling from his eyes. "He's not well today. I don't think he wants any visitors."

"I'm not asking. It's a matter of life and death." Harry pushed past him into the house, going for the stairs.

"Now, Harry, just wait a minute!"

He took them two at a time, calling down once he hit the first landing. "I'm sorry! I'll explain later. Won't be long."

Then he pounded up the rest of the steps, only stopping once he got to the second floor.

Fred and George's room had been at the end of the hall the last time he'd been at the burrow, but he didn't know if George was still staying there.

Nothing to be done for it, of course. He'd knock on every door if he had to. He needed to try.

Luckily, that was unnecessary. The first door pushed in when he set his fist against it, falling open enough for him to see the figure huddled beneath blankets on the bed.

The figure adjusted just slightly, two shadowy eyes tracking Harry's movements as he entered the room.
"George—"

"Get out," his voice croaked.

"Once I know how to save Verity."

George's expression was glazed, seconds ticking agonisingly by as he processed. "What's wrong with her?"

"The last experiment you were doing—the orange stuff, the exploding box—it covered every square inch of your office, remember?"

George did not reply.

"Well, it got into the main building, and it got to Verity. Inside her. She's at Mungo's under stasis and they don't know how to save her."

"If this is an attempt to get me up and on my feet again, Harry, I must say it's lacking."

"Just, please. I'll give up on the shop, okay? It doesn't matter if I'm a failed business owner, and the Has-Been Boy Who Was, and single forever, just please don't make me a murderer on top of that."

George gave him a funny look, like he didn't understand half of what Harry'd said. On second thought, he probably didn't.

"I don't know how to help," George said. "The product wasn't what we wanted it to be."

"But you know what went in it, yeah?"

George gestured to the desk in the corner of the room. Above it was a lopsided shelf holding various knick-knacks. "The journal on the right. If it's not in there, it's in the office."

Which meant it was effectively unreachable.

Harry grabbed the journal, paging through frantically, stopping when he saw the last entry, shaded in blue, for some reason.

"Usually we'd work through it better before we test it or start manufacturing, but... it was the last thing we thought of."

"Mind if I duplicate this? I'd just hate to risk losing it or messing it up somehow."

George waved a vague hand, Harry took that as permission.

"Thank you, thank you. I'll leave now."

Harry started for the door, half-expecting George to call him back, to say one last thing.

He didn't.

They left it at that.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Harry got the copy of the last page of the journal to the mediwizard in charge of Verity's case, upon which Luna promptly sent him home.

"But—"

"It's after visiting hours. You wouldn't be able to see her even if she woke up. Go home, get some sleep. Let me take care of things."

It was hours later, when Harry, Ron, and Ginny were eating in the kitchen, slumping dejectedly against the counters, that they heard a knock on the front door.

Ginny paused, spoon halfway to her mouth, and looked over her shoulder. "One of you invite someone over?"

"Er..." said Harry. "I don't think so."

Ron shook his head.

They all walked very slowly around the large table and into the hallway, coming to stand one behind the other in front of the door.

"Well," Ginny prodded. "Open it, won't you?"

"What if someone's going to kill us?" Ron asked, standing the closest.

"Let Harry go first, then. It'll be him they want to kill, not us."

Harry sighed. "How did I ever let your love go?"

"Open it, you knob."

They shuffled around each other until Harry was in front, and then he steeled himself. The house was under Fidelius, after all.

He threw the door open, and Hermione jumped back when she saw them, only allowing him a moment to grab her arm and keep her from toppling off the steps.

"Mione! We weren't expecting you."

She looked at Ginny and Ron as they lowered their wands, stifling a laugh. "Yes, I see that."

"Well, come on in, then. It's cold as a Glacius out there, and we were just having lunch. You can join us."

Following them inside and through to the kitchen, she stopped short with a little sigh when Ginny hopped back up to her place on the countertop, resuming eating without a moment's pause.

"You know, only you three would consider cold soup still in the can lunch."

"It's a perfectly balanced meal," Ron insisted, choosing to ignore the awkwardness of their situation. There were bigger things at play.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "You've got your fruit in the tomato, your protein and grains in the chicken with rice, and your dairy and vegetables in the broccoli cheddar."

She swapped out the can she was eating from for Harry's without asking.

"And besides," Ginny continued. "Harry hasn't been cooking for us lately since he got so busy with Malfoy." She said his name in a mocking tone and Ron made little kissy noises to emphasise the point.

"Oi, shut it! There's bread in the fridge if you want a sandwich, Mione."

"In the..." Hermione shook her head. "Thanks, but it's 4 o'clock in the morning my time. I'm not hungry."

Ron shrugged, slurping his soup down messily, and Hermione met Harry's eyes, darting them pointedly at the hallway.

"Er... are you going to be staying with us, Mione? Should I show you to your room?"

"That would be lovely. Ginny, Ron, I'll see you later."

Harry sat down his soup can and followed her hurriedly out, catching just the beginning of Ron and Ginny's conversation as he left.

"She doesn't like me," Ron whispered.

"Good. No self-respecting woman would."

They really needed to soundproof the kitchen.

Hermione stopped when they got outside her usual bedroom. Grimmauld was huge enough that he'd never had to let anybody else stay there, not since the war, at least.

"Are you actually staying? Don't you have to sit your final exams?"

"I asked my professors to postpone them a day as soon as I got your Patronus, Harry. Then I decided I'd need to stay longer than that when Luna fire-called me."

"What'd she say?"

"Pretty much what you did, except that you were blaming yourself and that you'd," she lowered her voice, "that you'd been to see George."

"Why are we whispering?" he returned, just as low.

"Sound seems to carry in this house more than you'd want it to. Do Ron and Ginny already know?"

"About George? I haven't told them. They haven't mentioned anything."

"How long has it been since they've seen him?"

"Long."

Her voice returned to its normal level. "My professors agreed to give me until the year below me will be taking their exams, except that prick Haywood, who said I could take it then or I could take a failing grade. Anyway, that's why I'm so late getting here. I didn't finish till nearly 10 p.m. and then I had to pack and—"

"Slow down, slow down. When is the year below you supposed to take their exams?"

"After Christmas hols."

"So..."

"It gives me long enough to stay for the opening. The day after, technically. I start back after Boxing Day."

"Oh." He tried not to let his disappointment show. A week ago, this would've been exactly what he wanted.

"What? What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. There's just not going to be a grand opening, is all."

"What?"

"Just... between Verity going through all this—and that's if she survives—the entire building being covered in orange, none of our products being ready, our machines being broken, and Malfoy being fired as my inspector without any viable replacement, it just all seems..."

"Impossible."

"But I'm fine with it. Really. Or, I will be. Just give it three years or so and I'll have forgotten all about it."

Her lips quirked into a sad smile, but then she shook her head, taking on that patented Hermione Granger thinking-face.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Nothing yet. I'll let you know if that changes."

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Harry was at Verity's flat the next morning, checking in on the Pygmy puffs when a Patronus hare hopped in through the walls. It sniffed around for a moment—making him feel very aware of his status as an intruder—before Luna's dreamy voice filtered out.

"Harry, I just thought you should know that she woke up. They're still working on clearing the gunk from her kidneys and liver, but, otherwise, she's doing quite well." The rabbit hopped in place for a second, then said, "Oh, I'm talking about Verity, by the way. See you soon!"

He let out a sigh of relief so big Elton's fur blew back from his face. The puff rolled his eyes at Harry, turning his back to him and puttering away.

Harry set the other puffs down, finished changing out the feed, and locked the cage, hurrying to the floo. 

When he got to St. Mungo's, Luna was waiting for him, a smile bright on her face.

"Have you seen her yet?"

"Just from a distance. They say she still needs her rest. The colour's come back to her cheeks, though! The non-orange colour, that is."

"Thanks, Luna. That's wonderful."

"Someone else is here too, you know."

"Er... all right."

"Hermione sent him. Told him all that had happened and he came charging in here wanting to speak with the healers and make sure they were handling it all properly."

"Get the feeling you aren't talking about Ron."

"I always knew you were smarter than you looked, Potter," said a voice behind him.

Harry turned, and his heart flipped over.

"Draco. I didn't think..."

"I told you I'd be back."

How had it only been a few days? Draco looked the same as when he'd left, which was to say good. Too good for a hospital waiting room. It was indecent, really. And Harry had to stop staring.

In a few seconds.

Draco drew a hand through his hair anxiously, looking at the healers behind the help desk, who were unabashedly gossiping behind their hands. "Could we talk? Privately?"

"I still want to check on Verity."

"We don't have to go far."

Luna squeezed his arm and said, "Go," planting a kiss on his cheek. "I'll send for you if anything important happens."

Harry nodded, following Draco down the hall. They eventually made their way to a secluded waiting room with a single table and a row of coffee cups on a counter. Just tap your wand on the side and say satietas! read a sign above them.

Harry hadn't slept all that night. He grabbed a cup and tapped his wand.

Draco made a face. "Magicked beverage is just never the same. I don't care how many products they roll out to substitute the lack of conjuring."

"At least my face isn't on any of these," Harry said, snorting.

He took a sip. Draco was right. He had a fleeting thought of adding a better coffee conjurer to his list of product ideas, then remembered that there would be no more products. No more Wheezes.

He sighed and took a seat. "You left the country."

Draco sat too. On the wall, a clock tick-tick-ticked the seconds by.

"We kissed," Harry continued. "And then you left the bloody country."

Draco ran a hand through his hair again, musing it. It looked far too good like that.

"A few key events happened between those two things, actually."

"I don't much care."

Draco let out a slow breath between pursed lips. "Tell me it wasn't part of your mental breakdown."

"What?"

"You don't go into Auror training, you don't get back together with the Wea— Ginny, you start running a joke shop. What's the next most ridiculous thing you could do? Start kissing me."

"You hear how ridiculous that sounds, yeah?"

"Every time I think about it."

Harry cracked a smile, reaching his hand across the table and stopping in the centre.

Draco looked at it, looked at his face, looked back at his hand and, slowly, slid his own across the table to meet it.

His skin was warm against Harry's, soft. Harry flipped his palm over and interlocked their fingers.

"You're such a prat," he said fondly, taking another sip of the horrible coffee.

"Probably best you get used to it now, if..."
Draco met his eyes, and Harry didn't look away.

"If what?"

"You know what, git."

"Tell me anyway."

"If this is going anywhere."

Harry squeezed his hand. "It is. So long as next time my tongue's in your mouth you don't move to Peru."

"I think I can arrange that."

Harry bit back a smile. "Good. Where did you go?"

"The Ministry of Magic didn't have an inspector that could review the shop in all of Britain."

"I know."

"So I had to find one somewhere else."

"You... what?"

"Barnabas Bagge," said Draco. "He'll be here on the 11th of December. He's already working on clearing it with the Ministry.

Harry stared. "I don't understand."

"I'm sorry. About the shop, about everything. I certainly never meant to cause you so much trouble."

"Draco, the shop's done."

"What?"

"Do you know how long it will take to clean the place? It took us forever for just one room—"

"Yes, but now we know that your accidental magic—"

"Let alone manufacturing all the new products we're supposed to have. And my accidental magic is accidental. I can't force it. And I told George we'd stop. Which reminds me, I need to send him an owl or... well, he probably wouldn't read an owl. A Patronus, then, telling him Verity's okay. I doubt he's worried, but I'd hate to..." Harry trailed off helplessly.

"But you've been working so hard."

"Sometimes..." Harry sighed, and he sat down his cup, standing, pulling Draco to his feet. "Sometimes we have to focus on all the good things we're lucky to have, not the bad ones."

"But what if now isn't supposed to be one of those times?"

Harry didn't have a reply. "Come on. Let's go see when they think Verity will be ready for visitors."