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SIYE Time:8:46 on 29th March 2024
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Normalcy
By notadryeeye

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP
Characters:None
Genres: Tragedy
Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Sexual Situations, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 1174
Summary: Harry gets one night that gives him a glimpse into what life could be like with the Dursley's. But events turn for the worse and both Harry and the wizarding world are left wondering what it's consquences mean for the future of the world.
Hitcount: Story Total: 500803; Chapter Total: 10228
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
I don't own anything. JK Rowling owns the ENTIRE Potter Universe. No copyright infringement is intended. I just write fan fics for fun




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Her neck was stiff and her back ached something fierce as she leaned forward in the armchair she was currently occupying. She thought that hospital chairs would be a bit more comfortable considering the lengthy hours that visitors usually sat in them...but this one seemed to be purposely made to prevent one from falling asleep or relax in any way.

Not that a more comfy chair would allow her to relax anymore. She couldn't really remember a moment in recent times that had allowed her such a luxury. Even when she had been spelled or had been forced to leave to get some sleep...nothing such as relaxation had come to relieve her tension.

She knew that she would not be able to fully rest and relax until he woke up...until she was sure he was going to be ok.

The thing was--she didn't know when or even if that would be. But she was resolute to stay here and wait just the same.

Harry had been unconscious since the moment that his eyes had fluttered shut for the last time in the Headmaster's office. The team of healers from St. Mungo's had arrived only moments later, swooping in and taking charge in stabilizing him so that he could be moved to the hospital itself. They'd done their best to heal his internal and external injuries, repairing the extensive damage done to his heart and other internal organs at the hands of Voldemort's blade.

The healing process of his legs was not so straightforward and easily remedied. They were shattered and broken beyond normal spell work. The injuries were at such a level that the healers had even thrown out the possibility of amputation. But that had been shot down immediately and adamantly by everyone that had been in the room on that occasion.

So the healers had been working on rebuilding and re-strengthening the bones within. Skelegrow was used for those sections of bone that were large enough to lengthen and grow. Those bones that were crushed beyond recognition were removed. Using techniques they'd borrowed from interaction with Muggle doctors in the past and modern medicine, the healers had used fragments of cadaver bone and cartilages to replace what parts could not be salvaged. This process had been ongoing and still was not complete. And like everything else that pertained to Harry, there was no guarantee these replacements and transplants would take or what level of function Harry might have when it came to walking.

They would just have to wait to see.

And it seemed as though they'd been doing an awful lot of waiting as of late.

It had been nearly two weeks since the eve of the final battle and nearly two weeks that Harry had been in this semi-coma state here at St. Mungos. Part of the reason for his unconsciousness was due to the sheer gravity and level of his injuries. His body was exhausted and had been pressed beyond normal measures. But the healers were also keeping him pumped with all sorts of potions--that while they were helping aid the healing processes and keeping his discomfort in check--they were also heavily sedating and flogging down his system.

A big reason for the wide array of potions he was now being administered was an infection that had set in shortly after his arrival here. He had been exposed to all sorts of harmful bacteria and debris while he had been buried in the rubble of the collapsing Ministry; his many numerous gaping wounds only invited those harmful substances into his body.

The good news was that the infection was waning after radically high fevers had plagued him for days. The imminent threat from the infection seemed to be lessening every few hours and the healers were very optimistic that he would be able to shake these fevers and the infection despite his weakened physical status.

And a result of his fever going down and beginning to break, he was now sweating heavily. The white sheets that he lay upon needed to be changed or cleaning spells administered to them every few hours. And like she was doing now, someone was always nearby to dab the sweat from his face with a cloth. It beaded up frequently on his forehead and upper lip and needed to be wiped away. His hair, which had grown long and wild in his time away from them, was slicked back and dirty with sweat from that day

She brushed her cloth against his forehead, wiping away the fresh beads of moisture that had accumulated there. As she sat back and placed the cloth on his bedside to be ready for the next time it was needed, her eyes raked over the rest of him for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

Despite, physically, having come so far from the day they had brought him here to St. Mungo's after having returned from the dead, Harry's body was still a mess.

His face was a bit gaunter than she could remember seeing or liked seeing. The combination of the lack of care he had given himself while under Voldemort's control and the effects of this lengthy bout of unconsciousness were both proving hard on his visage.

As he lay only half covered on the hospital bed, his chest exposed to the world, his collarbone and ribs stuck out prominently against his pale skin. Two new scars--one over his heart and the other just below his rib cage in the middle of his abdomen--joined the faded white ones he'd acquired nearly a year ago.

His breathing was now a steady and unaided rhythm, but his lips were dry and cracked as they parted to allow air in and out. In his nose was a thin white tube that the healers were using to feed the potions directly into his system to avoid having to move him and shift him too often or more than was necessary. Some of the younger healers who had some interest and interaction with muggle medical practices had borrowed the idea for the tube from muggle variations of a feeding tube.

As for the rest of him, which was mostly covered by the white hospital sheets, his legs were still the worst. Although they were hidden by the bed linens at the moment, Ginny had been present when they'd been uncovered. She'd seen them when the bandages and wraps had been removed so that he could be washed or the healers could continue their work on healing and rebuilding them. They were limp and slightly misshapen; the muscles and tissues were swollen and disfigured from the injury itself, as well as the repair work that the healers had been doing on them.

There was a lot of work left to be done--by both the healers and Harry himself...that is, when he woke.

Ginny sighed and leaned back in her chair, bringing her legs up with her as she pulled her knees towards her chest. She leaned her head back against the headrest of the chair and closed her eyes momentarily, letting the sound of the whirring and beeping monitoring spells bounce off the sterile white walls of the hospital room, lulling her into a silent sort of trance.

"Ginny..."

She wasn't quite sure if she had really heard her name called out so quietly.

"Ginny..."

The second time there was no doubt that someone was saying her name.

A sudden rush of excitement seemed to shoot through her as a thrilling thought seemed to overcome her. What if he'd woken up? What if he was beckoning her, waiting for her to wake now?

Her eyes popped open instantly and went directly for the figure on the bed. She half expected to find him sitting up, looking at her and calling her name.

But that hope was soon proved to be furthest from actual reality. Harry was still unconscious and laying flat upon the hospital bed; still unaware and oblivious to anything going on around him.

Ginny's eyes were instead drawn to her right, her gaze instantly landing her father who was standing beside her chair, watching her carefully. He brought a placating hand to his daughter's shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

"Sorry to wake you, sweetheart," Arthur said quietly to his daughter. "But I thought you'd like some place more comfortable to rest. Why don't we get you back to Grimmauld Place so you can sleep in a warm bed?" he offered gently. The Weasleys and many of the other close Order members had been making the former headquarters a temporary home since the Burrow still need to be repaired from the Death Eater attack it had suffered months ago.

Ginny shook her head.

"No...I'm fine," she tried to assure him, shifting slightly as to give the illusion that she was indeed alright sitting here.

"Ginny...you need to rest," her father replied firmly. "You've been here all day--and from what Bill said--most of last night too. Some fresh air will do you some good...and perhaps getting out of here will take your mind off things for a while..."

"I don't want to take my mind off things, Dad," Ginny said quietly, the words coming before she could do anything to stop them.

"I know," Arthur said quietly as he moved to kneel beside her chair, taking Ginny's hand gently in his much larger one. "But exhausting yourself like this isn't doing you any good...and it won't do Harry any good if you run yourself ragged sitting here all the time."

"I just want to be here when he wakes up," Ginny replied quietly. "I don't want him waking in a strange room, with strange people poking and prodding at him, not knowing where he is, or what's going on," she admitted in a strained voice. "I don't want him to be scared," she added in a whisper as she turned to look her father directly in the face. He returned the gaze with steadfast concern and understanding.

"None of us do," Arthur replied as he pulled Ginny closer to him, kissing the side of her head. "And when he does wake up," he continued, "there will be someone here who he knows and who loves him to comfort him and help him through anything that happens. I can promise you that, Ginny."

"I know," Ginny breathed out heavily, knowing her father was right. The few times she had not been here, sitting at Harry's bedside, there was always one of her brothers, Remus, Tonks, Hermione, or her parents themselves that were with him.

She knew he would not be alone but that did not seem to ease any of her worries.

"I just want to know," Ginny whispered softly, her eyes moving back over to Harry. "I keep telling myself that it won't matter--that we'll deal with and get through whatever we have to--that I don't care if he's not exactly as he was before--"

She broke off, her eyes still fixed on Harry.

"But with the healers talking about all they 'don't know' and all the uncertainties that they keep bringing up--I'm going mad not knowing," she said in a broken voice. "I just want him to wake up--so where we can see where he's at...to have an idea of what life might be like," she admitted quietly.

To herself those thoughts seemed selfish. She had resolved herself and promised herself that now that she had Harry back--nothing would be able to push or pull her away from him. Whether it be the difficulties he would potentially face physically or perhaps his normal noble streak that might attempt to close her out if things began to get too tough.

But that selfish part of her wanted to know--needed to know--what state he would be in when and if he finally opened his eyes. And her own thoughts and worries of the uncertain were killing her.

Would he recognize her? Would he be able to speak, to communicate, to understand them?

Even though they'd totally omitted what had taken place within the headmaster’s office when they had recounted the course of events when the medical staff had questioned them, the healers had been worried about the length of time Harry had been down. The time that he'd been lifeless, his brain and organs deprived of oxygen was time in which many other things could have gone wrong. The healers had thrown around the words and terms--potential memory loss, aphasia, and other neuro deficits--all indicators of some level of brain damage caused by the culmination of his injuries and the unknowns of his situation.

Those words scared Ginny and she could not shake that fear of the unknown that was gripping her. Knowing would definitely be better and bring some relief, however small it might be.

"Whatever life is like from now on," Arthur began slowly, again gently squeezing Ginny's hand. "I know that you'll be strong enough for yourself and for Harry to get through it and carry on."

"Something I've always admired about you and your brothers--is that you're all extremely passionate people," Arthur continued, his eyes too drifting over Harry's unconscious form as he took a deep breath. "And sometimes it can hurt, can be scary when you feel so strongly about something or someone. Especially when the person that you love and care for so deeply is hurting or is in some situation you can't control."

He paused, looking at her thoughtfully.

"But it's those same feelings; that same passion and love that is going to get you through this," he continued. "It'll be alright. Even if everything seems so uncertain at the moment."

Her father was right.

His words were spoken from the heart, a testament of the man he was and the things that he himself had gone through in his own life. He had experienced that same sense of love and compassion in his life, having fallen for and spent most of it with her mother. She'd always admired the bond and the love they had shown for one another. She had often wished that she would one day find someone she could share a relationship with that emulated that of her parents'.

But she had found that very someone in Harry Potter. She had known for a while now that he was the one she wanted to be with--that he was the one for her. Something between them had blossomed so deeply, so quickly and yet so wonderfully that Ginny often found herself without words to describe how she felt for him. Sometimes the word 'love' didn't even seem quite adequate enough to explain it.

So perhaps now it was like her father had said. Her love and her passion for Harry, which was causing her so much pain and anxiety as she watched helplessly on as Harry lay in his own state of limbo, would be the same sentiments and feelings that would get her through this extremely tough and rough patch of their lives.

This was just the beginning of things to come. And even though this start was not the ideal and would take a while to get going...this was one end that she wanted to work towards; a life she wanted to embark on and share with Harry.

"Who's going to stay with him?" Ginny asked her father after a long stretch of silent contemplation.

"I can stay with him tonight," Arthur replied, assuring Ginny and assuaging her worries for the moment. "Remus will probably pop in sometime after midnight," he continued. "Jacob's been keeping he and Tonks wide awake at that hour anyways with his--schedule," he added with a bit of a chuckle that Ginny had to reply to with a small smile.

Both Remus and Tonks were staying at Grimmauld place with the rest of the Weasleys and that meant that little Jacob was also there too. And at not even two weeks old, he was proving to be a handful for his first-time parents. But sleepless nights seemed a small price to pay for that glimmer of hope his tiny presence brought to everyone staying there.

Even these post-battle, Voldemort-free times were not without their own hardships and struggles. There was not only rebuilding and restructuring to be done in the wake of this war, but a period of mourning and reflection was now taking place for many. So many had been lost, not only in the final battle at the Ministry, but during the long stretch of time that Voldemort had taken hold of the wizarding world and held it ransom. People who had gone on the run, trying to escape the grasp of evil gripping the country were now coming out of hiding, rejoining the world and trying to come to grips with all that had gone on; all they had lost along the way.

Somehow having Jacob there somehow brightened things up a bit. Having the baby around gave everybody something to smile about, laugh about, and amuse themselves with if only for a few minutes out of the day. He was a breath of fresh air for all those learning how to breathe freely once again after holding it in for so long.

"Do you think Mom will have any French Onion soup left over from lunch?" Ginny asked after a moment.

"Well...all of the boys were over at some point today. So I won't guarantee it," Arthur began with a small laugh. "But I'm sure your mother would be more than willing to whip up some more for you," he assured her. Ginny knew that with all the time spent at the hospital had kept her away from the rest of her family most of the day, except when they made their daily trips to visit Harry's room at intermittent times. They were busy helping out at the Ministry, rounding up and helping take care of any of the rogue or left over Death Eater contacts that had not been present at the battle.

Going home to a bowl of her mother's piping hot delicious soup suddenly seemed very appealing. It would give her some time to relax and unwind. And although nothing could take her mind completely from Harry, she would at least get to spend time with her family, away from the blips and bleeps of the sterile hospital room.

She sighed out heavily, pushing herself up slowly from the chair.

She crossed the small space between her chair and Harry's bed, pressing gently against it as she leaned over him.

"I love you," she whispered to him as she very softly pressed her lips against his, kissing him lightly. She reached up a hand to his forehead, brushing away the wayward strands of hair that were stuck there from the sweat beading up. She took a moment to caress his face as her hand drifted down it.

"But don't go waking up while I'm not here," she added in almost an amused sort of tone, as if she were warning him against it and expecting him to react and obey. "Take your time and rest up for when I come back in the morning," she said with a smile even as Harry continued to lay there unconscious.

She felt a hand rest upon her shoulder and she looked up to find her father smiling down at her fondly, reacting to the touching moment going on before him.

"I'm sure if he knows and understands the potential wrath of Weasley woman...he'll heed your words," Arthur laughed, Ginny following suit.

"He better," Ginny chuckled, letting her father's hand guide her away from Harry's bed and towards a few hours of much needed rest.

------------------------------- ----------------

"As much as I miss him being away these few hours," Tonks began, stifling a small yawn,”I'm glad not to be having to play the part of the feeding trough at three in the morning," she added.

"Feeding trough?" Remus repeated in amusement as he smiled across the bed at Tonks.

"Well...how else would you like me to describe having our little guy going at my boobs every other hour of the day?" Tonks asked in mock indignation.

Remus could only chuckle, relishing in her unabashed cander and the thought of her being the mother of their son. He loved her so much and he loved sharing this life with her.

They had come to St. Mungo's about an hour after midnight, spelling Arthur from sitting with Harry, who had been the one who had finally gotten Ginny to take an extended leave from the hospital. Tonks and he were up at this hour anyway, with Jacob not having mastered the concept of any sort of normal schedule. So they had decided that they would take this early morning shift. It was a chance to give them a bit of a break from late night parenting of an infant and to relax for a bit in the quietness of Harry's room.

"Well I hope that he's not giving Molly and the others too much trouble," Remus sighed out as he rested his hands on the white sheets of the hospital bed.

"Well I do," Tonks retorted quickly. "I hope he's screaming his head off for them. Bill and Fleur need the practice," she added, trying to remain serious. "Plus...if he's fast asleep, we know he enjoys torturing his dear old Mum and Dad in the wee hours of the morning for fun."

Remus could only laugh again, his gaze resting on Tonks as he took her in. Her hair was once more it's natural shade of brown, the long, soft curls pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked tired from the long and unusual hours they had been putting in with having a newborn. There were dark spots underneath her eyes, but there was a wonderful glow about her that overshadowed the exhaustion he knew they were both feeling. She was beautiful and he couldn't help but be amazed and grateful that she had chosen him to love.

"What?" she asked as she caught him staring intensely at her. "What are you smiling about?" she questioned teasingly.

"I love you," he said simply. "I don't tell you that enough," he added quietly.

"You don't need to say it all the time," she assured him. "And I've got a son, who has an amazing father that tells me just how much we love each other."

"I love you too," she added, smiling radiantly at him. If it were not for them sitting on either side of Harry's bed, Remus would have reached across and taken her hand. But not wanting to cause Harry any pain or injury by doing so, he instead grinned back at her.

"Now that this war is over..." Remus began after a stretch of silence. "Maybe we should talk about getting married?" he found himself asking.

Tonks straightened up at the breaching of the subject that had seemed to come out of nowhere.

"I know we agreed that we'd wait...that we'd address it when everything had settled down," Remus continued. "But I want to make us a proper family--you, me and Jacob. I want to be able to call you my wife," he added, his heart leaping at just the thought.

"I've been thinking about it too," Tonks said quietly. "I think waiting was just defiance against everything that was forcing us and pushing us to get married. But now I can't think of any reasons to w--" she continued before she broke off, her eyes and her attention going somewhere off to her left, towards the head of Harry's hospital bed.

Remus followed her line of sight and he found himself getting up quickly from his seat and scrambling towards the head of the bed.

Harry, while laying there quite still, now had his eyes open; the green hue of them standing out despite the lamps being dampened at this early hour.

"Should I get a healer?" Tonks asked breathlessly as she too moved closer to Harry.

"No," Remus replied in a whisper. "Just...just wait a moment," he added as he watched Harry.

He was struggling to keep his eyes open, which blinked and opened lazily, uncoordinated and involuntarily as if he had no real control over their movements. They were unfocused and clouded with a certain level of discomfort and confusion as they moved around as if trying desperately to search his surroundings. His mouth was now ajar, his breathing deeper and heavier than before; a clear sign of a certain level of agitation.

"It's alright, Harry," Remus whispered soothingly as he bent over the younger man. At the sound of Remus's voice, Harry's head turned the slightest amount towards him and he blinked rapidly as if trying hard to gain control. He let out a small gasp of air in addition as he continued to struggle.

"Shhh," Remus soothed shakily. "You're at St. Mungo's, Harry. You're in the hospital," he added, trying to do anything that might comfort Harry. "You're safe here and you're getting the best care there is."

Remus reached up and placed a hand to the side of Harry's head, stroking Harry's hair and the side of his face in a comforting motion. And surprisingly the act seemed to have the desired effect and Harry seemed to relax just a bit. His eyes stopped their rapid searching movement and he lids began to droop and blink slowly.

"Hiya, Harry," Tonks now whispered as she leaned in closer so that he would see her more easily.

At her voice, Harry clenched his eyes momentarily and opened them slowly and tiredly. His gaze shifted slowly and lazily in her direction. But they did not focus directly on her, but settled on a spot to his right and upward of where she stood. He let out a small moan, an indecipherable response it seemed to her greeting. His lips moved the smallest amount as he let the sound escape.

"I'll take that as a 'hello' back, kiddo," Tonks said, beaming down at Harry, brushing back the hair on his forehead.

Harry did not respond in any way directly, but went back to trying to keep his eyes open and try and gain control of his body.

After a few more moments’ observation of Harry, Tonks's eyes went to Remus, who was watching Harry carefully; a look of fear and apprehension upon his face as he did so.

Tonks knew what was bringing this on in Remus. Although Harry was awake and had seemingly come out of his coma, he did not show sure signs that he was recognizing and taking in what was going on around him. It had seemed that he'd tried to focus on the sound of their voices when they'd spoken to him, but his gaze had been clouded and unfocused and he'd failed to meet their faces. And he had been unable to verbalize his reaction in any way they could really understand.

She knew that it was still the unknowns that were driving Remus's worries. He just wanted Harry to be ok.

"Harry..." Remus whispered to him, leaning in close so that his face was near enough where it was almost certain he was in Harry's field of view. "Harry, can you--can you understand--" he broke off, hesitating on his choice of words. "Do you know who I am? Who we are?" he decided on his course of questioning. "Can you talk for us, Harry? Can you say my name?" he added.

The request seemed so simple on the outside. But Tonks knew that Remus was desperate for any sort of reaction or indication of comprehension on Harry's part. They both waited in intense silence that seemed to press upon them and hold time itself at bay.

After what seemed like forever, but in reality was only a few seconds, Harry seemed to swallow visibly, blinking his heavy lids slowly as he tried to focus.

"Re...mss..."

The syllables were almost too quiet to be certain they'd been uttered aloud.

Had it not been for the slight movement of Harry's lips as he muttered them, both Remus and Tonks would have not believed what they had heard.

The name was mumbled, broken and slurred. But they were both certain that Harry'd made an attempt at saying it. He'd answered Remus's question and a weight seemed lifted off his shoulders even at the sound of Harry's feeble response.

"Yeah," Remus breathed out in relief. "That's right, Harry. That's good...really good," he said in encouragement as he again placed a comforting hand against Harry's head and face.

Harry relaxed again against Remus's touch and his eyes closed momentarily as if he'd slipped back into unconsciousness. But they soon drifted open a bit, half-way between slumber and attentiveness.

"T...ks..." he breathed out very softly as he blinked heavily.

"I knew you couldn't forget about me," Tonks teased lightly as she leaned closer to him, beaming down at him. "It's good to see you awake, Harry. There's a lot of people that missed you," she told him quietly.

Harry's eyes opened and closed a few times in response before they clenched shut, his brow furrowed slightly.

Then a tear escaped the corner of Harry's right eye, streaking slowly down his cheek.

He let out a small noise of what could be taken as discomfort or perhaps frustration.

"Are you in pain, Harry?" Remus asked worriedly. "Do you hurt anywhere? Try and tell me what hurts you, Harry. Tell me what's wrong..."

"I'm going to get a healer," Tonks blurted out, suddenly afraid that something was wrong.

"Go," Remus confirmed with her, nodding in agreement. As quick as she could, she turned away from the bed, in search of medical personnel.

"Tonks is going to get help, Harry," Remus assured Harry, who's face was still bearing a bit of discomfort and confusion as he opened closed his eyes randomly. "Can you try and tell me what's bothering you, bud? Try and talk or blink or anything...just let me know if you're in any sort of pain so we can help you."

Remus watched anxiously for any sign or indication of what might be going on with Harry, hoping he'd get a response.

"T...t--" Harry hissed out, his lids drooping heavily as he swallowed and licked his dry lips slightly, trying to bring forth the words.

"It's ok," Remus comforted and encouraged him. "Keep trying, Harry...tell me what you can."

"T-ti--re...ti-re...d-d," he sounded out in a forced whisper, gasping slightly with the effort.

"Tired?" Remus asked in confirmation. "You're tired?" he asked again.

"Mmm," Harry moaned in response, closing his eyes as if to try and tell Remus that he'd guessed right.

"That's all?" Remus question, letting out a relieved sort of chuckle as he said it. "You're just tired?"

Harry's rolled in his direction as if to say "What do mean 'that's all'?" He let out another small noise that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh, his eyes falling shut once more.

"Then rest now, ok?" Remus said quietly. "Close your eyes and sleep, Harry. Rest up for the next time you wake for us," he added, patting Harry's head gently as Harry seemed to relax and melt back into the pillows beneath his head, quickly succumbing to the forces working against his body. "Take you're time...you've got a lot of it now," he whispered to him.

He'd only been awake for a minute or two at the most, not having been able to cling to consciousness for more than that and had fallen back into slumber before Tonks could return with a healer. But there was a certain level of relief that was now washing over Remus.

The waiting for him to come to was over.

And although there were still a lot of uncertainties to be satisfied, Remus felt a whole lot better about Harry's welfare and future.

----------------------------- ----------------------------

There was a soft humming in the background--almost a peaceful sort of sound that seemed to fill him up and reverberate all around. It was sort of soothing...a constant noise that warmed him and comforted him in an odd way.

The mere presence of the sound in the black void around him was the only thing he was focusing on. And there was darkness all around him that had him wondering where he really was; what this place could be. Part of him was not even sure that he was really anywhere at all. He could very well not even exist. And what was more....that prospect was not bothering him at all.

But he was here...he was somewhere; on what level of being he did not know and could not be sure of.

But flashes of memories seemingly came to him, assuring him that he was alive and that he might even have flirted with the edge of consciousness not so long ago. He vaguely remembered a voice, an assurance that had come to him at that time. He could suddenly recall flashes of light and unfocused images that really made no sense to him other than to assure that he was here, alive if not completely well.

But the uncertain nature of the situation he was currently in was only a small flicker of thought somewhere in the back of his mind. He was perfectly content where he was now, disconnected and slightly numb from the world that was or may not be going on around him.

But the odd stretch of peace and blissful unawareness he experiencing seemed to be waning and leaving him as the humming grew louder and intermittent; lengething and shortening into muffled syllables of words just beyond his grasp.

He was sure that people were talking; the differing intonations and pitches of the still garbled conversation evident even in his detached state. What they were saying he could not be sure. That information was out of reach; his brain unable to comprehend things completely in it's current dormant state.

But slowly, as if someone were turning up the dial controlling his level of consciousness, pushing him towards the brink of awareness, he felt himself begin to slip out of the comfortable numbness that had been surrounding him.

For the first time since his thoughts had again clicked into the 'on' position and he'd been able to discern consciousness from anything beyond--he could feel his own body.

Well...parts of it.

He could feel the softness of the fabric of the sheets he must be lying on. They were cool against the warm, bare skin of his back. He could feel his own breath as it passed over his lips in a steady rhythm.

His body itself felt sore and achy, his muscles heavy, laden and highly unresponsive. Not that he could have done much to move anything anyways. He had no arms--he remembered as that reality caught up with him. And he recalled being buried among debris and rock at one point. His legs, which he could not really feel--they were neither painful nor sore, were sure to be damaged and injured quite severely.

But most of his worries were lost on the intrigue that was growing as he continued to drift towards awakening. As slumber drifted away and the world began to tune into focus within his peripheral senses, his thoughts began to come slower to him and forming coherent strings of functional concepts and ideas became difficult. It was if the closer he got to consciousness, the farther he began to get from being able to control himself.

His mind was becoming more fuzzy and muddled as the voices around him began to take shape and words began to come to him, broken and fragmented, making no real sense to him.

Shop....

a...mess...

...completely ....

....managed....save...few...

...be ok...

....rebuild....

The words were broken and choppy to his mind, a random string of separate thoughts that were totally unrelated to one another. The garbled conversation continued as he struggled to latch onto it.

That is until the world seemed to explode around him a whirl of sound and light as his eyes flew open and he was blinded by an intense whiteness that surrounded him completely.

------------------------- -----------------------------

"I wondered where two had gone off to today," Molly said as both George and Fred ambled into the quiet hospital room from the outside hallway, which was slightly abuzz with the noise of healers and medi-witches bustling from room to room, checking on patients. "Your father said you'd both gotten an early start," she added.

"And I didn't see either of you at the Ministry when I was there," Bill interjected from his chair in one of the corners of the room where he was perusing this morning's copy of The Prophet.

"They were finally starting to let people back into Diagon Alley this morning," Fred replied as he and George moved further into the room, towards the hospital bed where Harry lay.

"And we thought we'd get another look at the shop while we could," George added. "They're thinking that it'll be open fully in a few days and we'll be able to go back again. It's a complete mess still--and there were lots of security and booby-trap jinxes and measures that are still leftover from when the Death Eaters took over are being broken down."

"But they've almost completely cleared the block that the shop's on," Fred interjected. "We got a chance to take another look around. And we managed to save quite a few things...mostly new products that we weren't quite finished with."

"The rest of the inventory was pretty much destroyed though. The stuff on the shelves and in the stockroom is a near total loss," George sighed out heavily. "But we'll be ok."

"Boys, I’m so sorry about the shop," Molly supplied apologetically, reaching out to grasp Fred's hand, who was standing closest to her. "If your father and I can do anything to help--"

"We'll rebuild," George assured her. "It might just take a while--like everything else nowadays."

"If you guys ever need a hand, just let us know," Bill spoke up. "We're a family--we're there for you."

"We know," Fred answered appreciatively. "We just want to--"

But whatever Fred was going to say was cut short by a buzzing sound that suddenly filled the room and was growing louder by the second.

Eyes darted quickly around to find the source of the sound, momentarily flickering over the bed in fear that something had gone haywire with the monitoring spells around Harry's bed.

But a puff of smoke that suddenly erupted from inside of George's robes caught everyone's attention, just before the buzzing came to an abrupt stop.

Whatever the contents in the pocket of George's robes were, they soon let out one large plume of smoke and a flash of light before exploding.

There was a loud bang that accompanied the small explosion that ripped a hole in George's robes as he flung them off as quickly as he could.

"What the bloody hell was--" Fred began to admonish as his senses began to recover. But he was again cut short of his speech by a drawn out gasping noise and the sound of his mother's voice.

"Shhh...shhhh," Molly was soothing loudly as she was now standing next to the hospital bed, leaning over Harry.

And Harry was now stirring feebly, yet clearly agitated and distraught. He was breathing erratically and loudly, his chest heaving from the effort. His eyes were wide and moved wildly about. They were filled with fear and desperation, reminiscent of a cornered or caged animal having seen sunlight for the first time in ages.

"It's ok, Harry," Molly continued to try and comfort him. "It's alright, sweetheart...you're ok...it's ok..."

Harry's eyes seemed to find Molly at the sound of her voice, moving towards the sound of her words. They did not center on her completely, fading in and out of focus as he started to calm a bit. Perhaps comforted by the sound and familiarity of Molly's voice or maybe just tiring from the small amount of physical exertion his battered body had put out, his movements were slowing and fading.

"That's right..." Molly said sweetly as she stroked the side of Harry's face and hair gently as he leaned into her touch. "That's good, Harry dear. That’s it...just breathe now..."

Harry's breathing had slowed considerably and he was showing sure signs of settling down and relaxing after being jarred awake by a wayward exploding object.

"I'm sorry, mate," George supplied as he stepped towards the bed. "I must have forgotten I stowed those in my pocket...unfinished flameless start fireworks," he explained sheepishly.

"Considering what pocket you stashed them in...you're quite lucky you only picked up the starter caps," Fred interjected with a slight hint of a snicker.

"Anything bigger and you would have scared Harry to dea--" Bill began as he too was now standing near the bed, having shot up out of his seat at the first sign of the disruption. He stopped his current choice or words, realizing the inappropriate irony they might bring. But his mother had also spoken again.

"One of you boys go get the healers," she said, not taking her eyes from Harry. "Tell them that he's awake. They'll probably want to check him over now," she added.

Wordlessly, Fred seemed to take it upon himself to undertake that duty and turned from the bed, speeding briskly out of the room.

""It's ok now, Harry," Molly supplied once more. "That loud noise was just Fred and George--you know how they get with their inventions," she added with a small smile as she watched Harry lovingly as he continued to try and gain his bearings. "There's nothing to worry about sweetheart...just rest..."

Harry continued to blink heavily and sleepily, his eyes shifting around the room now as if trying to take in who was there. His eyes lingered next on George, not showing any real sign of emotional recognition upon his features as they passed over the single twin.

"Hey there, Harry," Bill said quietly, leaning over the bed as Harry looked in his general direction. Harry let out a deep sigh in what seemed like some sort of response, as his gaze drifted away and back towards the ceiling, his eyes opening and closing lazily.

"Gi--" he breathed out in the softest of voices, and those around the bed strained to make out what Harry was trying to say.

"Gi-in--" he tried again, swallowing thickly and trying to take a deeper breath that might help him get his words out.

"What's that, Harry?" Molly asked him quietly, trying to allow him time to try again.

"Gin--ny..." he managed finally, gasping out the syllables brokenly, but as best as he could. His eyes met Molly's imploringly, as if trying to get her to understand what he wanted. They were more focused and clear than they had been since he'd been awoken.

"You want Ginny?" she asked in clarification with a smile. "Is that what you want, sweetheart--us to get Ginny?"

Harry let out a small strangled noise in response as he seemed to nod ever so slightly against the fluffy white pillows propping his head up.

"She still at Grimmauld Place?" George asked aloud.

"I'm not sure...she was planning on coming here later in the evening with Ron and Hermione...but there were talking about stopping back at the Burrow and seeing how the builders were getting on first," Molly replied without taking her eyes from Harry.

"I'll be back with her," George said quickly, removing himself from Harry's bedside and then the room.

"Ginny will be here in a little bit, Harry. Ok?" Molly assured him, smiling first at Harry and then casting a sideways, and knowing one in Bill's direction. It was rather touching to see that even after a long bout of unconsciousness, Ginny was the first person he wanted to or cared to see and thought that perhaps her lack of presence at his bedside was unusual.

"She's been here almost the entire time you've been out, mate," Bill supplied to Harry as though sharing Molly's thoughts. "We finally got her to take some time for herself...she's been worried sick about you. We all have been," Bill added quietly, giving the side of Harry's head a soft pat in a sort of brotherly-type gesture of affection.

"S-s...so--rry..."

The apology was broken and fragmented, forced out in a soft, breathless voice and totally unnecessary.

"There's no need to apologize, Harry," Molly said quickly. "We're just so glad you're awake....so glad you're ok..."

------------------------------ -------

"So how lucid was he exactly? Was he responding to commands? Forming coherent thoughts?" Hermione asked rapidly and quite feverishly as she rushed down the wide, white hallway, along with Ginny and Ron as they followed George.

"Well if I knew what lucid meant exactly...then I could tell you," George said over his shoulder as he sidestepped a passing gurney pushed by an orderly.

"Well you said he was talking," Hermione responded quickly.

"I told you all he said Ginny's name," George corrected her as they rounded a corner and he narrowly missed running into a passing healer. "And it was pretty hard to understand and he had to try a few times--but after a bit it was pretty clear that's who he wanted," George continued. "Not that it was too surprising," he added, casting a backwards glance at Ginny.

But she did not respond.

She was keeping up pace alongside Ron and Hermione as they sped through the halls of St. Mungo's, but was not matching their excitement and enthusiasm. She instead was fraught with worry and fear of what they'd find. It was a kind of nervous anticipation that was gripping her now that she knew that Harry was awake. Her face was set along the lines of those sentiments even as she sped with the others towards the floor and hallway where Harry's room was.

She was not asking and pressing for specifics like Hermione was in her current line of questioning. And she had not let out a cry of relief and glee like Ron had when George had found them on their way back from checking out the current renovation of the destroyed Burrow.

She did not feel that overwhelming sense of joy...not yet.

She still needed to know...to see for herself.

"There you are," a voice called out as the four of them rounded one last corner.

In the middle of the hallway, outside of Harry's private room, stood a small crowd of people.

Bill was leaning up against the wall opposite the door, his hands in his pockets as he stood there. Fred was sitting on the tile floor beside where Bill stood, watching them approach. Mr. Weasley was standing opposite of his son's apparently just having been in conversation with Remus, who seemed to be pacing the width of the hall, looking slightly worried and nervous. Percy was there also, looking as though he might have just joined the group as he still had on his work robes and a large, leather satchel that contained papers and documents.

"You sure took your time," Fred spoke up again as the four approached.

"Well we--" George began to retort.

"Why are you all out here?" Ginny asked, interrupting her brother and drawing the attention of all those standing in the hall.

"The healers are checking him over," Bill replied. "They're running some tests doing evaluations they were waiting to do when he was awake."

Ginny's eyes drifted to the door and she pictured a team of healers huddled around Harry's bed, poking and prodding him every which way possible. She wondered how aware he was of what was going on. Was he afraid? How was he reacting to having strange people he'd never met before around him? Did he understand what they were doing to him?

"Your mother is in there with him," Arthur said quietly, causing Ginny to look away from the door at the sound of his voice. He was watching her carefully, as if having read her train of thought. "He's not alone," he said with a knowing nod.

Ginny nodded in response, glancing at the door once more before letting out a heavy sigh as she resolved herself to a spot opposite her brothers against the wall nearest the door. Her father's words were a small comfort, one that she needed. She was glad that her mother was in there...that there was someone to comfort him...someone that he knew.

"So you guys haven't heard anything new?" Ron asked as he and Hermione took up the space on the blank stretch of wall next to Ginny. "Nobody's come out and told you anything?" he added.

"I'm afraid not," Mr. Weasley responded to Ron's inquiry. "I'm sure that they're just making sure they go over everything before they tell us anything. They're just being thorough," he assured Ron, who slumped back against the wall in a renewed sort of nervousness and tension. Hermione wrapped an arm around his waist in a gesture of comfort and stability.

"So...how was the construction going?" Bill asked Ron, Hermione and Ginny collectively as if trying to fill the uncomfortable and pressing silence filling the hall. "Dad said they'd gotten the living room pretty much back together when he checked in this morning," he supplied.

The Burrow, which had lain abandoned and in ruin since the attack at Christmas, was being rebuilt by a volunteer construction crew that Mr. Weasley had contracted from the rebuilding efforts at the Ministry. They'd agreed to help the Weasley's put back together their home in the spare time they might have from working at the Ministry and were doing it free of charge for the labor. The only thing that the Weasley's would need to finance would be the building supplies or anything that need be replaced.

"Yeah....the first floor seemed to be pretty much framed up and back together," Ron replied. "They were finishing up and going to owl Dad about--"

But whatever Ron was going to say was lost as he stopped his sentence abruptly.

The door to Harry's room opened and Mrs. Weasley stepped out into the hallway, a tall and grey haired healer following close behind her as he closed the door gently behind them both.

Fred leapt to his feet and everyone else who had been leaning against the walls straightened up to full attention. Remus stopped his pacing and turned to face the healer and Mrs. Weasley.

"Well...how is he?" Ron asked bluntly.

"He's pretty groggy still," Mrs. Weasley replied with a small smile.

"But he is coming out of his coma," the healer added to Mrs. Weasley's answer. Now that Ginny was paying closer attention to the man, she recognized him as one of the healers who had addressed them and talked to them before about Harry's condition and the procedures he was undergoing. She believed his last name was Westfield...or something of that nature.

"He's still got a bit more waking to do--but all signs are pointing towards beginning his recovery soon," Healer Westfield added, making sure to make eye contact with each and every one of them as if to address them all individually with his assurances.

"What kind of results did the tests yield?" Remus asked nervously. "Is there still concern about--his brain? Did you find anything?"

"All signs point to him having normal cognitive function when he recovers," Healer Westfield replied. "Albeit, he's still quite disjointed and disconnected at this point--there were certain points during observation and testing just now where he had some trouble speaking and we had to try a few times to get him to reply clearly--but there's no indication that he'll have any problems when he's able to wake more fully. We're chalking up his deficits now to having just regained consciousness, as well as having an array of sedative potions in his system--there's quite a few."

"So it'll get better then as he's taken off of them?" Hermione asked. "His speech and level of consciousness?"

"Yes," the healer replied. "Within the next day or so we should be finished with the reconstruction of his legs and after that we can begin to wean him off of the higher doses of the more potent pain maintenance potions that he's on. He may be in a bit more discomfort when we do so...but he'll be a bit more lucid and aware than he is now."

"So he's better than he was the other day when he awoke?" Remus asked. "We talked about how he had little stretches of a few seconds where he seemed to follow things a bit more and others where he didn't seem as sure of what was going on."

"He certainly was better than what we discussed when he'd came to the first time," Healer Westfield answered Remus. "And he was certainly a lot more responsive to things going on around."

"He got a bit crabby when they were prodding and poking around at him," Mrs. Weasley added with a small laugh and smile.

"And a bit of combativeness isn't a bad thing at all when dealing with someone who has been unconscious for so long," Healer Westfield added, sounding just as amused as Mrs. Weasley. "It's a very good sign that Harry didn't seem to like at all what my assistants were doing to him. But I'm sure that Trainee healer Fuller won't take any of the curses or glares to heart--he wasn't too happy with her when she was attempting to complete the scanning spells on his head."

"He cursed her?" Ginny asked, slightly horrified. "He doesn't have his wand," she said automatically.

"No....no...he swore at her," Healer Westfield clarified. "But was nothing Trainee Fuller hasn't heard before I'm sure."

There were several snickers from a few members of the small crowd.

"And I'm not sure he'll even remember doing so," Mrs. Weasley interjected. "It was more reactionary than anything."

"So is he awake still?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"He was when we left to come out here...but he seemed to be tiring fast. So I'm not sure if he still will be," Healer Westfield supplied.

"Can we see him?" Hermione asked. "Or should we wait--?"

"I think we can allow two or three people to visit him at a time. We don't want to do anything to overwhelm or over stimulate him right now. And even though it seems as though he's have plenty of it--Harry still needs his quiet and rest," Healer Westfield replied. "But...if you excuse me--I have a few more patients to see yet--but I will be back to check on things later and my assistants will be nearby to help with anything you might need."

"Thank you Mr. Westfield," Remus said, stepping forward to shake hands with the elder healer. "Thank you for everything you've done to help him." Healer Westfield clutched Remus's hand, nodding in recognition and acceptance of the thanks.

"You're welcome," Healer Westfield said quietly and graciously. "And I'm very happy to be able to tell you all that he's going to be ok. He'll have some things to overcome yet, physically, but giving the extreme nature of what his injuries were--he's very lucky indeed. And from what I've seen he's going to have a lot of support--he's got a lot people here who care very much for him. Sometimes that makes all the difference in a person's recover," he added, as he finished shaking Remus's hand and slowly dislodged himself from the group.

They watched the grey haired healer walk down the hall a little ways, their eyes following his back before they turned back to one another.

"Ginny, you should go in," Bill spoke up. "He was asking for you after all."

"And Ron and Hermione," Remus added, gesturing to the two.

"Remus--you can go in," Hermione replied quickly. "We can wait," she added. It seemed that Hermione had picked up fully on Remus's restlessness and worry over Harry and perhaps she thought it best if he be one of those to see Harry first.

"No," Remus replied. "You two go in...I've already seen him awake," he added with a smile. "He'll be happy to see you both," he added.

Both Ron and Hermione looked slightly unsure and ready to insist that Remus go, but it seemed that Remus was not going to allow them to. He was serious about letting them see Harry first now.

"You three best hurry in before he falls asleep again," Mrs. Weasley interjected. "We'll wait out here."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all exchanged readying glances, detaching themselves from their spots against the wall as they turned towards the door. This was it. They were going to see him awake...if not fully alert...but with his eyes and his mind open once more.

Ron was the one to reach for the handle of the door, his large hands closing around the metal handle. Slowly he turned it, the internal locking mechanisms of the door audibly sliding open with the deliberate action.

The catch let loose and Ron let the door swing open. He gestured for Ginny and Hermione to enter before him as he held it open.

Slowly, the two young women moved forward and entered the room, Hermione slightly in front of Ginny as Ron stepped up behind them. He let go of the door as they took steps into the room, leaving it fall closed behind them, cutting them off from sight of those in the hallway beyond.

There were two healers still in the room, assistants by the badges on their robes. One was standing a bit away from the hospital bed, dictating notes to a clipboard floating in mid-air. The other was standing beside the bed, measuring out an exact amount of a red potion that would be administered to Harry through the nasal tube that went straight to his stomach.

Harry himself was in bed, covered to mid-chest with a warm, white blanket. The back of the bed had been propped up from it's previously flat position so that he was sitting up ever so slightly at a different angle than before. His head was turned slightly to the side towards the nearest healer, as if watching what she was doing.

Even from the way his head was turned, they could see his eyes partially opened and every few seconds he would blink or his facial muscles would move as he breathed and observed through tired eyes.

Hermione and Ron edged closer to the bed as Ginny lagged slightly behind, her eyes lingering over Harry's now conscious form.

He was here, he was awake....and yet her feet were not allowing her to move forward towards him.

Hermione had reached the right side of his bed first, her hands resting on the bedrail as Ron came up behind her; one hand resting on her waist, the other on the rail next to hers.

As Ron grabbed hold of the rail, it made a slight clinking noise as the metal moved against the frame of the bed. It took a moment for Harry to take in the noise, but slowly he turned his head away from the assistant healer and towards the sound of the noise and Ron and Hermione.

He let out a deep, heavy breath as his gaze roamed over them. He was tired looking, his eye movements sluggish and delayed; dark circles more prominent under his eyes now that he was awake than when he was unconscious. But however exhausted and battered he looked...his eyes were a bright clear green and he was looking at them through the brilliant orbs, aware that they were there with him.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione whispered tearfully as she leaned over the side of the bed. "It's good to see you awake. We missed you," she added quietly as she reached up gently and brushed away a lock of raven hair off of his forehead. Harry did not respond aloud, but he kept eye contact with her for a few seconds before his gaze flickered towards Ron.

"Hey, mate," Ron greeted in a voice much smaller than usual. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he leaned further over the rail.

Harry swallowed heavily and inhaled deeply as if trying to ready himself to speak, but was cut off from doing so. He instead seemed to cringe and clench his eyes shut in discomfort and let out a huff air through his nostrils as if trying to expel a bothersome itch or feeling.

At about the same time, the bright red liquid that the assistant healer had been measuring out, slid down the length of the thin white nasal tube connected to Harry.

"Is that hurting him?" Ron asked worriedly, watching as the potion continued to flow through the line, feeding Harry his medications directly into his stomach.

"No," the healer confirmed, shaking her head as she stowed away a few bottles of potions into a robe pocket. "But I do imagine it feels a little weird when it enters his stomach. There is a bit of a temperature difference in the potion and his body," she replied. "Am I right, Mr. Potter?" she asked tentatively to Harry.

"Hmmm," Harry breathed out quietly, nodding ever so slightly in response but not taking his eyes from his friends.

"Well, if you are hurting at all, mate, let us know," Ron said to Harry. "We'll get you taken care of," he assured him.

But Harry was no longer paying attention to Ron and Hermione. He had turned his head away from them and was focused on a spot to his left on the opposite side of the bed. But he was not watching the assisting healer, she had moved aside and was conferring with her colleague.

He was instead staring steadfast and clearly at the red-head standing close to him, watching him carefully with tear-filled eyes. Ginny was biting the inside of her lip, torn between elation and that small shred of fear still clinging to her.

"Hi...y-you," Harry blurted out breathily and brokenly as he feasted upon Ginny's face. The corner's of his mouth curled up just so.

"Hey yourself," Ginny whispered with a watery smile. She reached up to wipe away the tears that had finally slid from her eyes, pushed out by the combined force of emotions welling up inside of her.

"D-don't....cr--y..." Harry whispered to her as best he could.

"I'm not crying," Ginny said, sniffing back the moisture and trying to clear it all away.

"Li--ar," Harry managed to get out, trailing off on the last syllable.

"Well I wouldn't have to get all weepy like this if you weren't always getting yourself into trouble saving the world and all that," she teased him quietly back as she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "But then again, I had to go and pick Harry Potter for a boyfriend," she whispered as she slid her lips away from his forehead and replaced them with her own forehead.

Her eyes were inches from his; his green irises boring into hers even as he blinked heavily against all the elements working against his body. She could feel his breath, soft and warm against her own skin. It felt good to have him this close to her again. Part of her wanted more contact, but she did not want to hurt him in any way, so she stayed the way she was; forehead to forehead.

Then ever so gently she felt him move his head upwards towards her as if trying to bridge the small space between their faces. Instinctively she lowered her face towards his, her lips immediately touching his. She kept them there, still for a moment until she felt Harry's lips move against hers in a familiar fashion.

Her first urge was to kiss him back hard, eagerly and insistently, showing him exactly how much she'd missed him. But knowing that he'd just come back to the land of the living, snogging him senseless did not fall into the category of being a good idea. So she kissed him softly and gently, relishing in the feel of him.

And then the movement of his lips stopped and she felt his mouth part slightly and his forehead fell away from hers.

Worry gripped her as she immediately thought the worst. She pulled away and searched for a sign of something wrong.

But what she found brought a smile to her face.

Harry's eyes were closed, his face peaceful and passive as he sunk back against the pillows.

He was snoring quietly as his breathing sunk back into a soft, slow rhythm.

Harry had fallen asleep in mid-kiss.

How was now slumbering quietly again, having finally succumbed to another wave of exhaustion.

"Harry....Harry," she whispered quietly to him, but he only kept on sleeping, oblivious to her calls.

"Nice, Gin," Ron chuckled teasingly. "Way to put a bloke to sleep."

"Shut it," Ginny shot back as she smoothed the pillowcase next to Harry's head. "He was just tired."

"Or your kissing was that b--"

"Ron," Hermione admonished with a shake of her head.

"Sorry," he backtracked quickly when he caught sight of the look she was giving him.

"He'll probably be out for a while now," one of the healers spoke up, causing all three teens to jump at the sounds of the new voice.

"We've administered the next wave of pain medication so that we can finish the treatment of his legs in the next day or so," the female healer continued. "I'm not sure Healer Westfield shared with you all," she added. "But after that we should be able to lower his level of sedative potions."

"Yeah...he told us that much," Ron replied. "So he's going to be asleep for a while again?"

"We'll keep him on a pretty regulated dose of medication while we finish up on him," the healer replied. "So he'll be out...maybe in and out of consciousness till then. But it's only for another day or two now," she assured Ron.

"Can we stay with him for a while now though?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Certainly," the healer replied. "And let us know if you three need anything."

"Thank you," Ginny replied as three comfy looking armchairs materialized behind each of the three teens on cue.

-------------------------------- --

Awakening seemed to be happening much quicker this time around.

Feeling and awareness was coming back in a shorter span than before and he was soon aware of the noises and the sensations around him. His eyes remained closed, still heavy with tiredness. But he could both feel sunlight filtering upon him and sense the change of light in the redness of his closed lids.

Slowly, he opened them, closing them quickly when the brightness of the room around him stung at his retinas. He tried again, blinking a few times to shake away the discomfort and the tiredness in his eyes.

The room swam into view, slightly blurry due to the absence of his glasses. But unlike the last time he could remember being awake, things were not shifting and moving before his eyes. He did not have to struggle so much to focus on specific objects in the room and comprehension of everything he was seeing seemed to have sped a bit; the lag time of his reactions was not so spaced apart.

He moved his head side to side as much as he could to get a better view of things around him. But his head and neck felt heavy and stiff, his movements encumbered by the apparent weakening that his body had experienced. If he had tried to even attempt to sit up, he knew his efforts would be unsuccessful. He felt sore and heavy, his muscles almost totally unresponsive to his thoughts.

He let a quiet sigh as his tongue darted out to wet his dry, cracked lips involuntarily. They felt rough and disgusting to the touch and he faintly wondered what the rest of him looked like. But he had not strength to attempt an evaluation and instead let his head fall to his right against the fluffy white pillow his head was resting on.

And there she was.

She was sitting in a chair beside his bed, only a few feet away.

Her feet were resting on the edge of his bed and her knees drawn halfway to her chest. She was reading something, a magazine propped up on her knees by the looks of it. She seemed to be concentrating on whatever was upon the page; she was biting the corner of her lip as she perused the words and pictures. Her hair was down, the long red locks falling across the back of the chair, the sides tucked behind her ears to keep the stray strands from falling into her face.

He wanted to touch her, to make sure she was real and this wasn't a dream or some sort of hallucination. He vaguely remembered her being there before. But he couldn't remember what she'd said to him or anything else for that matter. It was all to foggy and hazy, to disconnected to be sure that it was all completely real.

But he couldn't move, he didn't have the ability to reach out to her. So he continued to watch her greedily, taking in the sight of Ginny as she sat there, momentarily unaware of his gaze.

She let out a small chuckle as she turned the page, evidently amused at something she'd come across. Her eyes flickered from the magazine for only a moment, drifting over the bed as if the action was old habit. They automatically seemed to go back to the magazine, but only for a millisecond before they were back on Harry, who was still watching her.

"Hey," Ginny greeted brightly as she took her feet off the bed and sat up, scooting her chair closer to him.

"Hi," Harry breathed out quietly.

"How long have you been watching me?" she asked him with a knowing smile as she leaned forward and kisssed him on the forehead.

Harry tried to get his answer out but the path from his brain to his mouth in which the words must travel seemed to still be on a time delay and he found it difficult to speak at first. Finally he felt his mouth move and submit to the commands of his brain and he let out a response, much less clear and connected than he'd expected.

"A...b--bit..." he managed breathily.

"And you didn't think to let me know you were awake?" she asked teasingly.

"Yo-u...look--ed...b-usy," he replied unevenly.

"I'm never too busy for you. Plus...Witch Weekly is still a bit of a rag if you ask me," Ginny said with a smile. "How're you feeling?" she asked quietly, watching him carefully.

"Be--tter," he replied as he let out a long sigh.

"You look better," she told him. "And you're talking a lot clearer too," she added.

"Does--n't....feel....like it," he responded.

"Well, you are," she assured him, brushing a gentle hand across his forehead, pushing away his overlong fringe. "And you're going to keep getting better now that they're starting to take you off the heavier potions," she added.

"Yeah?" Harry asked quietly.

"Mmhm," Ginny replied. "They're finished repairing the bones and muscles in your legs now--so they're letting you start to wake up more by taking you off the more potent pain potions."

"My--my legs?" Harry tried to ask. "Wi--will I--walk?" he forced out, watching Ginny's face carefully for her reaction to the question. He knew how badly they had been injured and he wondered how well they'd been able to repair them.

"It'll take some work," she said truthfully, her gaze never wavering from his. "You'll probably have to go through a bit of therapy to get your strength back in them...relearn how to walk on them again," she continued. "But they're really hopeful and optimistic that you're going to be alright. It just take some time and effort," she added.

Harry nodded his understanding. He knew Ginny was telling him the truth. She would always be honest with him and he knew that he now had a hard road ahead of him. But somehow he wasn't too concerned about that now. The work and the strain would come later when he was faced with it....but for now he was content to rest here with Ginny by his side.

"You--look--ti-tired," Harry found himself saying as he continued to survey her face. Although she was smiling at him, he could see the dark circles underneath her eyes, telling of the restlessness she had been experiencing lately.

"You don't look so rosy yourself, Mr. Potter," she teased him. "And I have been sleeping," she assured him.

"In...the..ch-chair?" Harry asked almost knowingly.

"No...well...not all the time," she admitted hesitantly.

"Liar," he breathed out with a tired smile on his lips. "You...need...r-rest...too," he told her.

"Well I'll get some now....now that I know you're ok," she replied quietly. "I've got a lot of worry off my chest now that you're awake," she added, leaning over him and kissing him softly.

"I love you," she whispered to him as she pulled away.

"Love...yo-ou....too," Harry replied back. "Love you--Gin," he breathed out.

They stared into each other's eyes, taking in their closeness and basking in this simple time together.

"I love being able to look into those eyes again," she said quietly to him. "I missed them....I missed you," she whispered as she gently grabbed for the fingertips poking out of the crisp white bandages.

"My...my eyes?" Harry asked confusedly.

"They're green again," she told him. "They're back."

"Good," Harry sighed out.

"They're as bright as ever," she said with a smile as she gently squeezed the fingers she was gripping.

Harry seemed to follow the movement and for the first time since he'd awoken, he lifted his head gingerly off of the pillow; the action seemingly costing him a great effort.

He gazed down at where Ginny's arm lay across his lower abdomen, brushing against his skin and the blanket covering him. His eyes settled upon where her hand gripped the pale fingers poking out ever so slightly from a mess of thick bandages.

"My...." he breathed out, his head dropping back against the pillow as he struggled to speak and keep it up. He lifted his head up again, staring bewildered at the same place. "My--my--a-arm," he forced out, looking for a moment to Ginny for some explanation.

"He...he...cut it...off," Harry breathed out, his words becoming slightly more constricted as confusion settled in.

"I know," Ginny replied softly, trying to comfort him.

"It--it was--gone," he blurted out.

"It was," Ginny confirmed. "You're right, sweetheart, it was gone. But they recovered your arm from the rubble at the Ministry right after they brought you here. And the healers were all about trying to reattach it. They wanted to give you all the tools they could possibly. And we thought that it was worth the try to do so...we thought that at least trying to give you your arm back would be better than the atlernative."

"Did it...work?" Harry asked dazedly as his eyes raked over his arm, the place where he'd expected nothing. There was heavy, white bandages wrapped around it all of the way to midway up his upper arm. His fingers from the second knuckle were showing just beyond the edge of the reach of the white wrap.

"There's good blood flow and no sign that your body is rejecting the reattachment in any way," she assured him. "The skin and muscle knitted itself back together already and there's just a white scar where they put you back together," she told him. "The only thing they're worried about is nerve damage. Right now there's no way of knowing how much sensation and function you might have lost because of it. It'll be a bit of a waiting game...and some more work...but things are looking up."

"Yeah..." Harry said slowly, still watching his reattached arm carefully. Ginny wondered what he was thinking about this new revelation.

"Can you feel me squeezing your fingers?" she asked him quietly as she closed her own against his gently.

"No..." Harry replied quietly, concentrating hard on his hand, as if willing himself to be able to feel her touch.

"That's alright," she tried to assure him. "It'll just take time," she added as she grazed her fingers over the tips of his.

"I...I felt...that," Harry breathed out simultaneously with the action. "My....fingers," he clarified.

"There?" Ginny asked, squeezing the very tips of his fingers.

"Yeah," he replied in a quiet fascination. "That's....that's good....ri-ght?" he asked Ginny.

"Very good," Ginny replied with an excited grin. "The healers will be very excited to hear it," she added.

"You'll...te--tell...them?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "But not right now," she added. "Right now I'm gonna have you to myself...before a team of healers rushes in here and starts poking you again," she laughed. "Unless you're in any pain....then I'll--"

"No," Harry breathed out. "I'm...good...."

"Stay...."

A/N: Alright! Harry's awake and we know he's going to be ok eventually. And I hope you liked the little present I left both you and Harry at the end of the chapter. (Let's see how many of you realize what I'm talking about lol) The next chapter will be more of recovery and then there will probably be one more chapter after that and then the epilogue which takes place a few years after the end chapter. I've enjoyed this adventure so much and thanks for all of those who've stuck with it! We're nearing the end!
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