Wally Grant stood beside the bed, suitcase open, folding a couple shirts and laying them into the case. Geri Grant sat on the bed just beyond it, watching, brushing Olivia's hair.

"How long will you be away, Da?" the little girl asked.

"Not long," Wally said. He felt guilty even as he said the words. "Dad's just got some things to do for work is all, going for a couple of days and then I'll be right back here with you and mummy."

Olivia smiled.

So did Geri.

Wally's hands shook and he turned 'round to collect some other belongings - a book, his reading glasses, and a walkman, bundled up with a few of his favorite mix tapes. He slipped them into the suitcase. "Should about do it," he said, closing up the case and closing the clasps.

Olivia rolled across the bed, mussing up the hair Geri had so carefully brushed, and jumped up into her father's arms. "Oooh Da, will you bring me home presents?"

"Don't I always?"

"A snowglobe?"

"If I find one, it shall be yours," he nodded.

Olivia's arms were about her father's neck and she hugged on tight as he held her close and kissed the top of her head.

Geri came 'round the bed and hugged him, too, looked up into his eyes, searching for reassurance, "We'll be waiting for you to come home, remember," she said.

Wally nodded and bent to kiss her lips. "I know," he murmured against them before pressing in deeper.

The floo network was jammed and it took a few minutes to get through in Hogsmeade because there was a queue trying to jostle into the Three Broomsticks and the Hogs Head alike. Seemed like half of the Wizarding World was headed to Hogwarts for the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Wally ended up slipping through ahead of a family with several small children who were wearing Gryffindor red jumpers with Harry Potter's photo emblazoned on - the one from the Daily Prophet the week before, in which the poor chap looked utterly perplexed and desperate to get away.

Wally himself had no identifying markers for which Champion he was cheering on; rather, he had arrived already in magenta scrubs and a turquoise and black band about his arm which declared him a medic.

He slipped between the crowds in the pub, keeping his head down, his medic bag slung round his torso, the suitcase in his hand, pressing his way out onto the street.

There had been bunting hung between the lamp posts in the colors of the schools and people going on selling all sorts of trinkets and souvenirs. He recongized some of the sellers from Diagon and Knockturn Alleys peddling wares of charmed stones and amulets bewitched to bring good luck upon the head of the Champion of choice for the buyer. "Give 'arry Pott'ah a bitta luck for a pence?" One called out, "Or mebbe you prefer the luck'a the wee girl?" Wally shook his head as he passed by. He was determined to remain neutral.

The Inn loomed ahead of him and his heart thumped wildly in his chest as he stared up at the window, curtain drawn and dark. There was no way even to tell if Oliver Kent was up there - he might be mingling in the crowd or up at the castle with his Champion or gone off home or all Wally knew. Or at least he hoped so - if Oliver Kent was out from the Inn, then it would give him another few hours before he had to face him.

Wally realized he'd been standing far too long and he took a deep breath.

The inn was busy enough that no attention was paid him as he walked quickly through the lobby and up the stairs to the room door, where he rapped upon it with his knuckles.

There wasn't a single sound from within.

Wally frowned at the door, shuffling one foot to the other, wondering how long one takes before they are allowed to cite that they'd tried to ring by and would be back 'round again later when the door opened.

Oliver Kent's eyes were bloodshot and his face stained by drying tear tracks hastily wiped away. His hair was disheveled to put it politely, and not in the cute windblown way Wally had been fond of back in school, but more in a I Haven't Showered in Three Days and I've Been Tugging On My Hair to No End sort of way.

"Wally?" Oliver's voice squeaked slightly, and Wally nodded. "Oh. Wow. Wow. You um you're here. You've - you've come back. Now, of all times."

"Is it... bad timing?" Wally asked, half hopeful. "Is Declan here?" he pressed.

Oliver laughed, "No Declan is not who's here."

Wally raised an eyebrow.

Oliver looked over his shoulder as he stepped back to allow Wally in.

Wally looked 'round, expecting to see somebody he knew, but instead finding -- "A manky old dog?" He looked at Oliver. "But you hate dogs?"

"I've come to be sort of fond of this one," Oliver stammered.

"Where did it come from?"

"Followed me up one day," Oliver shrugged. He was watching Wally with incredulity. "Where have you been?" he pressed. "You said ages ago you'd be back and its been positively weeks and I - I was starting to suppose you'd never return, honestly."

Wally smiled awkwardly, "I promised I would be." He put his suitcase down by the door, hanging his medic back 'round the back of a chair there. Oliver's eyes travelled the height of Wally, taking in the scrubs, arm band, and clothes.

Oliver stared for sometime before finally saying, "You're a - a healer?"

"Not a proper one, just a medic... I'm a proper muggle doctor."

Oliver was stunned. "Why didn't I know that?"

"You never asked."

Oliver nodded, absorbing his own poor efforts at friendship.

Wally hadn't entered past the doorway. He had his hands jammed into his pockets. He stared down at the trainers on his feet.

Oliver stared at him. "Wally?"

Wally looked up, his eyes meeting Oliver's, and Olivet could feel what Wally had cone to tell him.

Oliver shook his head.

"Ollie," he started and his voice dipped.

"Don't call me that. Don't call me that in that tone. I'm not twelve. Or fourteen. Or any of the other childish ages when you got to break up with me and placate me with that old name. We aren't kids anymore and this isn't a puppy love thing you're breaking off. It's - it's a marriage, Wally, it's our marriage, it's --"

"Oliver," Wally's voice was firm, "It's not marriage. You broke off our marriage years ago. You did it. You told me to go and I left, you did this. It isn't our marriage I'm breaking off. It was my marriage that was in trouble because out of bloody no where you decided we were worth fighting for. I am married to Geri and I've got this whole life you know nothing about and don't even care to ask about. You're just worried about - about filling up all your metaphorical holes... and maybe a few physical ones as well."

Oliver's voice shook. "You kissed me at the Cup."

Wally shook his head.

"You came to my house," Oliver said.

"To check on you!"

"Check on me? For the first time in years you happen to check on me! And you kissed me then, too. You said you were leaving her, that you were choosing me, that--"

"You can't blame me for giving my real marriage another chance!" Wally laughed.

"Your real marriage?" Oliver asked, picking up a subtle inflection in Wally's voice.

Wally said, "We were never really married, not legally, Oliver."

"In every way that mattered..."

Wally sighed.

"We had Colin."

"They only let you adopt him because you were a famous quidditch star, Oliver. They got miles of adverts out of that, loads of kids got adopted because you brought awareness to it and your name moved red tape and mountains that we never would've got cleared for together. Remember the times, Oliver. The wizarding world was advanced on muggle England but it was still --" he shook his head.

Oliver sank onto the bed as though wounded.

And the dog jumped up next to him on the mattress.

Oliver's fingers knotted in the black fur.

"I have to go, I'm needed at the enclosure."

"Enclosure?"

"For the Tourney. There are handlers needing treatment for deep burns and dragon fire is magical so some of the wounds are --"

"Dragon fire?"

"Nevermind," Wally said as though Oliver were stupid and just not understanding something being said clearly. "I have to go."

Oliver clung onto the dog's fur.

"You've always blamed me for everything wrong with us --"

"I've never blamed you," Oliver said numbly, looking up. "I've never -- I've always blamed - blamed myself. You know that... you --"

Wally sighed, and shook his head. "I have to go. I wish your Champion good luck in the Tourney." He turned 'round.

"Fine. Fine, go. Go and - and do whatever it is you've got to do," Oliver said, "I'm fine. I've been fine all these years without you, I certainly don't need you now."

Wally hadn't expected that. He'd been braced for crying, begging, whining. He stared at Oliver, and he felt an odd foreboding fill him up. Part of him hesitated, but he turned and grabbed his medic bag and the suitcase. He stared at Oliver for a long moment.

"Go on," Oliver said. "Before you promise to come back again or something. You're not going to be able to come back this time."

Wally stopped. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you won't be able to come back."

Wally said, "Oliver, don't do that. Don't try at making me stay by saying things that sound like you intend to do something to yourself; that isn't right, that --"

"I'm NOT," Oliver snapped, "I'm saying I won't let you come back this time because this time it isn't me leaving you, this time it's you leaving me and this time it really isn't my fault."

Wally nodded, and he left.

He left, just like that, and Oliver was alone in the room, apart from the dog, who sat very still, Oliver's fingers knotted in the fur.

Oliver's fingers slipped away from the fur the longer the door stayed shut, the longer the silence hung in the room, the longer Wally Grant's absence was felt.

Suddenly there wasn't a dog there but Sirius was there instead, sitting beside Oliver on the edge of the bed.

Oliver glanced at him, then back down at his hands in his lap. "I didn't know you could do that," Oliver said quietly, voice cracking. "Have you known h-how to long?"

"As long as I've known you," Sirius said. "I'd appreciate it if you kept it a secret."

Oliver nodded. He was rubbing his ring finger where there would have once been a band.

"It doesn't go away, does it?" Sirius asked.

Oliver looked at him.

"They can take away the gold but the weight and the meaning is still there, even after all this time."

Oliver looked back down at the space.

"You know," Sirius said, "You're keeping my secret for me... It's only fair if I keep one for you as well. You know. Collateral and all."

Oliver took a deep breath. "I have very few secrets. Most everything of mine is in the papers, for everyone to see. The things I manage to keep out of them is only because my friend Declan guards me." He bit his lips. "You didn't kill James Potter."

"I'm the reason he's dead," Sirius said solemnly.

"The motor car killed Colin," Oliver said, and his eyes met Sirius's, "But I'm the reason he's dead, too."

Sirius was quiet a long moment, then he asked, "Oliver, who the fuck is Colin?"

Herbert Fleet flicked his wand and sent the Potter Stinks badges of several Hufflepuffs, including Ernie, flying across the carpet. "Stop doin' that!" Ernie snapped, frustrated as he ran after the badges as they spun from Potter Stinks! over to Support Cedric Diggory!

"Well stop wearing them, you little trout," Herbert replied.

Cedric sighed, "Fleet, c'mon."

"What? You want'em off, I took'em off," Herbert said.

Cedric went over to Ernie and bent down, reaching for the badge Herbert had sent flying off. "At least keep them just on the one side. Please?" he asked, handing the badge back to Ernie. "I just don't think it's fair."

Cedric motioned for Herbert to follow him and they climbed the stairs to the Charms corridor, the other sixth years crowding in as they neared. A couple of the others were laughing with Herbert about the scramble he'd sent the other boys into, fetching their badges when he'd sent them flying from their robes, and the boys were roughing each other up as the girls rolled their eyes and pushed past into the classroom.

Suddenly Cedric's things fell from his bag, books hitting the carpet with loud thumps, quills, ink pots, and Zonko's things rolling away from him. "Shit!" he muttered.

Herbert spun about to help him, but Cedric waved his palm, "Don't bother. Tell Flitwick I'm coming. Go on..."

Cedric drew his want to siphon some of the ink that was pouring from a smashed bottle, staining the carpet. Suddenly a pair of trainers filled his view, a shadow cast over him, and a hand held out a particularly fiesty biting eraser. He looked up. Harry Potter stood before him.

"Hi," Cedric said, taking the eraser. "Thanks, Harry. My bag just split open, brand new and all..."

"Cedric?"

He looked up at Harry.

"The first task is dragons."