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Only the Best | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Nymphadora Tonks, Other, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Romance Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence, Violence/Physical Abuse Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 82 Summary: Metropolitan Police Inspector Harry Potter was having an amazing twenty-four hours. He slept a full eight hours, had a good pint, and met the most incredible red-headed woman. Of course, that was all nulled by the dead woman lying in Whitehorse Road Park. Hitcount: Story Total: 32777; Chapter Total: 2259 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Arnel and gryffindormischief have been amazing throughout every chapter. Helping to catch any mistakes, so a huge thank you goes out to them. |
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Ginny stared out the windshield trying to resist the temptation to cry. She and Harry were driving as quickly as the small Scottish backroads would allow, heading back towards London. She, heading to be with her parents and brothers, well, most of her brothers, and Harry going to meet up with Tonks. Scotland Yard’s team had been analyzing the video that contained Fred for over two hours now and had found nothing. The moment Harry had heard Fred was in danger he told Ginny to pack up and get ready to leave their safehouse. So far, the two hours they had been driving seemed much longer, maybe an eternity. Though the radio played quietly in the background, Ginny couldn’t hear anything over her own thoughts. Her brother had been taken by a mad woman who had been, presumably, murdering people with milk. Ginny wished she could stopping imagining Fred, tied to a chair, milk being forced down his throat, but she couldn’t. She looked over to the driver’s seat. Harry was gripping the wheel tightly as he weaved and bobbed around any obstacles that appeared before them. The blue lights above them coated the trees and ground around them. “Ginny?” Harry’s voice, somehow, broke through her haze. Her throat was too tight to speak, so she waited. Those tears from earlier had broken free, falling down her cheeks silently. Harry’s left hand reached across the center console and positioned itself palm up, waiting. Ginny gripped it gratefully, as if it were a lifeline, trying to gain some strength from him. “I’ll find him, luv,” Harry said thickly. She could tell this was affecting him as much as her. He was more than likely blaming himself, the self-deprecating prat. Ginny wanted to make sure he knew she didn’t blame him and that he shouldn’t blame himself, but her damn throat wouldn’t cooperate. If she tried to speak the only thing that would come out was a sob, and that wouldn’t help anyone. She gripped his hand tighter, wanting everything to pass through their palms. Her love for him, her belief in him. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX The Burrow seemed like a funeral. Unused tissues lay about the rooms, ready for anyone to lose the battle with their emotions. Undrunk cups of tea sat about, too cold to drink and receive the comfort a hot drink could give. Ginny sat at her mother’s worn, scrubbed kitchen table, George next to her, his head resting on the wood. It had taken twelve hours for Ginny and Harry to reach her childhood home from their safehouse and in that time the Weasley’s had seemed to almost become despondent. When she and Harry had walked through the kitchen door, Ginny’s mother had hugged them so tightly, her tears staining their shirts. Harry had guided Ginny over to a chair and asked to speak with her parents in the sitting room. George, Ginny, Bill, Charlie, and Ron waited in the kitchen silently. No one seemed to have any words of comfort to share. Typically, it would be the twins who made a situation light, but George was far from the right mindset set to even try and make a joke. Finally, Ginny’s parents and boyfriend — wait fiancée - came out from their meeting. Every Weasley sibling watched Harry, willing him to speak. Ginny knew the signs of Harry’s stress rising. His eyebrows had almost become one, the little dimple on the left side of his chin had become more prominent as his jaw clenched. “Okay,” Harry made eye contact with every sibling, finally settling on Ginny. “From what Tonks has told me they are trying to use the video feed to figure out where Fred is being held. He has been forced to drink a liquid that we assume is milk at least five times. He doesn’t seem to be putting up a fight, which is the most concerning element right now.” Harry let out a deep sigh. “I’m going meet Tonks in Winchester, so she can brief me on the rest of the situation.” Harry moved over towards Ginny. He lowered himself to eye level. His voice became a whisper as his hand came to rest on her cheek. “Stay safe,” he pressed a light kiss to her lips and stood to his full height and spoke to the group at large. “I promise to keep you all up to date.” Then he left, moving at a brisk pace to his car. Ginny’s mother lowered herself into one of the table chairs, while Arthur went over to kettle and refilled it. Bill was the first one to break the silence. “They’re going to find him.” Ginny couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince them or himself, but her head started to nod as her eyes stung again from unshed tears. “If anyone can find Fred,” Ginny choked out, her voice gruff, “it’s Harry and Tonks.” XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Harry’s head fell onto the table as Tonks paced the small Winchester police station office. They had been watching the live feed of Fred for thirty minutes, unable to see anything distinctive. No windows, no sounds of passing vehicles, only Fred sitting in a chair with his legs and arms bound. “Why isn’t he fighting?!” Tonks asked again. It made no sense to her. If she were captured she would be trying to break her binds. Maybe break the chair so the ropes would loosen, but Fred just sat, staring at the wall. “Why is he just sitting there?!” “I have no idea,” Harry’s muffled voice spoke. He raised his head, the bags under his eyes an unhealthy dark shade. “I know Fred, he wouldn’t be okay with this.” “But, yet, he does nothing!” “Stop yelling, Tonks,” Harry scolded, “it doesn’t help anything. It just makes us closer to being deaf.” Tonks looked abashed. “Sorry.” Harry waved her off and turned his attention back to the tablet. “He kind of reminds me of someone who has been hypnotized.” “What do you mean?” Tonks had never been to hypnotist show, but she had heard it was crazy the things people would do under the control of the performer. They could make someone become something else… bark like a dog, crawl on the ground… “Well, when I went to a show with Ginny a few months back, we stumbled upon it, the hypnotist pulled two women to the stage and made one become a cat and the other a dog; however, when they were waiting for instruction… they just stood there, waiting. Kinda like Fred. A blank expression, like no thoughts were going through their head.” Tonks rubbed the back of her neck. She could see Harry’s hypothesis, but Jesus, that was such a specific idea. “So, you think Bella can hypnotize people?” Harry shrugged. “Possibly, I don’t know. It’s just a theory.” “I mean…” Tonks took the empty chair beside Harry. “We have nothing else to work with, so why not, but what can we do with that information?” “No idea,” Harry shook his head. “Breaking the trance is hard to do. The performer has a code phrase or something that makes the person return to normal.” Tonks thought about that for a moment. “Do you think the rest of the victims were hypnotized?” Another shrug from Harry. “It would explain why Cho and Susan left their homes without a fight.” “What about Katie?” “I think Katie was a personal attack…” Harry looked at her. “Katie was on the trail of our killer and I think she may have worried them.” That made sense. Tonks had no counter to his logic. “And Dean?” “That’s the one that confuses me…” Harry’s voice trailed off. “The first male.” “Not just that. He was also made out like a show… like our killer wanted to add some flair. With the first three it was, as bad as it sounds, straightforward. Found in a park, writing on them, but Dean… Dean was placed in a dress and worked into a letter…” Harry shook his head. “I just don’t understand why our killer changed their MO so much.” It was like a light switch was flipped in Tonks head, an idea rushing forward to be discussed. “What if there is more than one killer?” Her voice was excited, yet quiet. Harry’s eyes went wide. “Like an original and he has a friend?” Tonks nodded. “Or maybe a pupil thing… I think Bella may be a new figure to the ruse because you’re right, the MO changed. I think —“ She cut herself off as a female form arrived back on the camera. The newcomer walked over to Fred, checking his pulse then glancing at the camera. Though the feed was in black and white to woman’s hair was clearly blond. She had a slightly haughty expression almost like Bellatrix’s. Then she turned away and walked to the far end of the room and moved a board slightly away from a window. Light streamed into the previously dark room, showing off the dust and dirt. Tonks tried to take in the small view the window presented, a lake with a small dock out in the middle of it, what looked to be a rose garden off to the left of the lake. Harry’s breath hitched, making Tonks look at her partner. “Grindelwald,” Harry’s voice was almost so quiet she couldn’t hear it. “What?” “I know that lake and garden,” Harry turned to her, his eyes blazing behind his lenses. “That’s the same place Grindelwald held his hostages… Hangleton Manor.” XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX “Boot, I want you and Jameson to take the southern part of the house. Michaels, Jones take the northern. Tonks and I will take the upstairs and find Fred,” Harry commanded his team as they stealthily approached the worn-down manor. They had parked half a kilometer away, as to not draw attention to them. Harry wanted to do this quietly. Get Fred out safely and capture Bella if she was in the house. “As for hostiles. We know of at least two females that have been in Weasley’s room,” Tonks continued the briefing. “We think one may be friendly as she helped to reveal the location. She had blond hair. Lestrange has black, she is our main target.” The team nodded their understanding. They reached the back door, which showed a kitchen through the window. “Alright everyone is on channel three,” Harry reminded, gesturing to his ear piece. “If you need help the word is Bible. If you see a dangerous object, such a gun the word is tapestry.” “Why are we using code words?” Boot asked, rolling his shoulder in anticipation. “We want you to be able to slide it into conversation if you are cornered,” Tonks explained. “Talk about your favorite Bible passage or distract out culprit by talking about the décor.” Harry looked at his team before taking a deep breath. “Okay, we ready?” The team nodded, determined looks on their faces. Harry slowly reached for the door knob and turned it gently. The door swung open easily, which didn’t bode well to Harry. An unlocked door usually meant a stupid culprit, or a trap and Bella was not stupid. Taking a quick look around Harry signaled the coast was clear. The team broke up, everyone going in their directed direction. Harry and Tonks crept up the stairs, checking around every corner they came upon. They knew the lake was on the south side of the house, so they went that way first, checking all rooms they passed. Then, finally in the last room they came upon, was Fred, still staring blankly, tied to a basic dining chair. “Fred,” Harry muttered and walked cautiously towards the red-head. He looked for any tripwire or traps around the room, but his well-trained eye spotted nothing. Fred was breathing normally; his pulse was average… Overall, he seemed in fine condition. “Fred?” Harry whispered again, this time in Ginny’s brother’s ear. “Can you hear me?” No response. Just that blank, unseeing look. “Harry?” Tonks’ voice called from the far corner of the room. Harry turned to see her pointing at a bucket, something one might find in a barn. “He’s been getting sick.” “From the milk, no doubt,” Harry guessed. He turned back to Fred. “Fred, you have to snap out of it.” Nothing. He opened his palm and slapped Fred, with enough force to make the man’s head turn. “Fred,” The red-head just turned his neck to face the front of the room again, showing no reaction to Harry’s violence. Harry keep his voice low. “Fuck!” “Let’s get him out of here,” Tonks advised, moving over to cut the binds from Fred’s hands, while Harry undid the legs. Once the red-head was free, each inspector grabbed an arm and hoisted the man onto his legs. Still Fred did nothing. He didn’t fight back, but he didn’t make a conscious effort to help them move him away from the manor. They reached the back lawn slowly, but surely. Tonks and Harry lowered Fred onto the grass, hidden behind a shed. He did nothing, just sat motionless where they placed him. Harry pressed the call button on the hidden communicator. “Weasley has been found and removed from the situation. Status.” Jones voice came first. “All clear here.” Then Jameson sounded, making Harry’s heart drop into his stomach. “What sort of tapestry did you want to get for this room? Maybe something from the Bible? Maybe a family tree?” Harry looked at Tonks and saw his fear in her eyes. “Jones, you and Michaels head though towards the south side of the house, using connecting rooms whenever possible. Check for any more dangerous substances along the way.” Jones sounded his approval. “Jameson, you and Boot just hold out a little longer.” “You and I should head back in,” Tonks claimed re-adjusting her protective vest. “Someone needs to stay with Fred,” Harry countered. “I’ll go help Jameson and Boot. You try and get Weasley out of that God damn trance.” Before Tonks could reject his plan, Harry moved back to the house, back though the kitchen door. He didn’t know which room Boot and Jameson had been found in, but he remembered the south side room where Grindelwald had positioned his hostages. The small formal sitting room to be exact, and that’s where Harry would head first. He moved cautiously, but as quickly as he dared, checking corners as he rounded them. He could hear voices, a high pitch and lower one. Both seemed to make his blood curdle. The higher one, a woman he presumed, seemed to be laughing. Harry felt the urge to flee. He had no desire to find out what was making that woman laugh so wickedly. He inched forward, closer and closer to the noise. When he was finally right outside the door, Michaels and Jones had arrived on the other side of the corridor Harry signaled for them to wait for his mark. “I thought we had a deal,” Boot’s normally pompous tones had changed to something more fearful. “You said — “ “You foolish man!” The woman laughed. “Why should we — “ Another voice cut off the conversation. “Bella, there is no need to gloat.” Harry could hear the sound of skin to skin contact, a slap echoing through the room. It was time for Harry to move. He placed up three fingers, slowly letting them fall. When the final one had closed into his fist, Harry and his team moved into the small study that had become a base of sorts: four people were scattered around the room. Bellatrix Lestange and Terry Boot were closest to the door the team had entered. Terry was tied to a chair with a large bruise forming on his face. In the far corner, by another door, a man had his back turned to them as he looked out a window. All Harry could see was the back of his bald, pale head. Finally, Harry’s eyes fell on a body lying on the ground, face down, arms out at an awkward angle. Jameson. Harry’s blood turned to ice. Jameson clearly wasn’t taking a nap. Blood was spilled all around him, a wound on his head prominent. “Ah, finally,” the man spoke, without turning to look at his new advisories. “You’ve taken your time, Potter. Too late, I’m afraid. I’ve another engagement to attend, so I apologize for my rudeness, but I must leave.” And to Harry’s surprise, the unknown man walked out the door nearest him, without so much as a glance back. Bellatrix watched her comrade leave, a besotted look on her face. Then she turned to Harry. “I’m sorry to say, Potter, but this will be a first and last meeting.” She gave him a cold, slightly crazed smile as she looked him up and down. “Such a shame too.” Harry signaled for Jones to start forward on the left, ready to box Bellatrix in, when she pulled out a small device. It was the size of a television remote, only one button was on the console. Many years on the force and multiple courses on dangerous makeshift materials made Harry recognize the homemade explosive switch easily. He placed both his hands up in a stop motion. Harry could see the simple, yet clearly rigged bomb shell in the corner of the room where the man had once been. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Bella,” Harry knew the best way to talk down a gunman or bomber was to try and relate to them, to try and connect to them. If a gunman had his sights trained on you, Harry had learned to tell him personal stories about himself. Make the shooter feel like he knew his victim. However, the look in Bellatrix’s eyes showed no desire for connection. If anything, if he told her about his life she probably would press the button faster. Instead he decided that if anything would make this woman not press the button it would be the idea that her own life would end too. “If you press that button, you’ll die as well.” Harry made eye contact with Michaels quickly, he needed someone to move towards Bellatrix and grab the device. Both Jones and Michaels moved slowly. Jones heading towards the bomb, Michaels to Lestrange. Harry kept Bellatrix’s eyes on him. “I’m sure you don’t want to die.” Lestange snorted. “Do you know what they call someone who does in an explosion? When there is nothing left to find, not even a toenail?” Harry did, but if this was what Bella wanted to talk about… “No, what do they?” The smile that curled at the side of Lestange’s mouth gave Harry the split-second warning… The warning that nothing he said or did would stop her. She didn’t care if she died. Harry moved backwards at a fast pace. “Get out!” His words mixed with Bellatrix’s as she pressed down on the button. “Pink mist.” It wasn’t a horribly strong explosion, Harry was able to think as he was blasted backwards, covering his face. He could feel the heat, but he could still feel so that meant he wasn’t blown into a million tiny particles the moment the blast hit him. His nerves were still intact. He was thrown out the room and into the hallway. His head collided with the wall painfully and then there was nothing but darkness. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX “There was something unknown within the explosion,” a deep voice was saying as Harry’s mind came too. Wherever he was his senses were on overdrive, as he kept his eyelids shut. He could hear shoes squeaking on the floor, pens scratching on paper, and the voices, multiple voices, off in the distance. “I agree,” a female voice spoke this time, “but we have no idea what damage it has caused. It’s done nothing to his brain activity, or his intestines, we have been able to bend his joints well enough. Minus the obvious injuries, everything seems normal. Dr. Regal, I have no idea what the conclusion of our tests has shown. Mr. Potter seems overall healthy; however, the others…” “I know,” Dr. Regal, or who Harry assumed was Dr. Regal, spoke again. “I know. What about the family? Have they been notified?” “Yes, there is a woman in the waiting room. She was his emergency contact. However, no other family was listed other than her.” “Thank you, Darla. Keep an eye of Mr. Potter and let me know when he wakes.” “Of course, Doctor.” The pen stopped moving across the page and the squeaking shoes distanced themselves from Harry. He focused on touch now. He was laying on his back on something that he had to assume was a bed. His eyes were unwilling to open, so he couldn’t even try and see his surroundings. Then a throbbing pain in the back of his head made want to cry out. Instead, he shut his eyelids tighter, trying to mentally block out the agony. However, his body seemed to reject the idea of staying conscious through the ache, and he blacked out again. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX When he woke a second time there was pressure squeezing his right hand. This time his eyelids unglued, and he was able to make out an unclear humanoid shape, the only reason he knew who it was, was due to the vivid red on top of their head. “G…” Harry tried to call out to his fiancée, but his throat wouldn’t cooperate. It was as if he had taken all the sand within the Gobi Desert and filled his esophagus. “Harry,” Ginny’s voice sounded hoarse, like she hadn’t spoken for days. Her eyes connected with his, full of concern and happiness to see him awake. She turned to look towards the doors at the end of the room. “Help! Harry Potter is awake.” The sound of movement from the other side of the door could be heard, but Ginny turned back to Harry. “Luv, don’t move or try to speak. You have quite a few injuries.” Harry started to feel what she was talking about. His chest felt on fire, his head was pounding, and oddly enough his left foot felt as if it had been stabbed through. The door swung open violently, revealing two women and two men. They all hurried to Harry’s bedside. The first to speak was a bulky, small man, with square glasses. “Mr. Potter, can you hear me? Blink twice if you understand.” Harry blinked, lethargically, unable to move at a fast pace. Once, then twice. “Great,” Dr. Regal gesture at one of his protégé’s to take down notes. “Can you speak?” Harry opened his mouth, but again no full words came out, only a few garbled letters. Dr. Regal nodded. “Darla, go fetch Mr. Potter some water.” “Right away, doctor,” one of the women said, and she rushed out the room. “Now, Mr. Potter,” Dr. Regal turned back to Harry. “We are going to run some tests. Expect some pokes and prods. Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes. Nurse Darla should be back with some water in a few moments, which will help that scratchy feeling in your throat. Ms. Weasley, you may stay in the room, but I ask you stay out of the way.” Ginny nodded, giving Harry’s hand one final squeeze, that seemed to transfer some feeling of comfort into him, then she moved off into one of the room’s corners, keeping her eyes locked onto him. The medical team started to examine Harry. Moving as one, checking various things. They took some blood, one checked his pupils, another examined his toes and legs. The nurse, who had been sent for water, returned quickly enough. She held the cup and tilted a straw into Harry’s mouth allowing him to greedily suck as much of the liquid as he could. Finally, the team backed away from Harry to converge together. Ginny moved back from her watch post and gripped his hand again, for which Harry was thankful. Just knowing she was there was helpful, but having contact with Ginny seemed to give Harry strength. As he waited for answers, Harry tried to remember everything that had happened… the last memories he had before waking in the, again he was assuming, hospital. Fred… Jameson’s call… Boot tied up… Jameson dead on the floor… Jesus! Harry could feel the bile rise up his throat. Quickly he turned away from Ginny and released the little contents that had been in his stomach. “Harry!” Ginny cried, jumping out of her seat to place a hand on Harry’s back. Nurse Darla turned towards the commotion, moving with haste she came to Harry’s aid. Placing a metal pan to collect the final stream of vomit. She also grabbed the cup of water and prepared it for him. After he finished convulsing, Harry gratefully accepted the water, swishing some around his mouth and spitting it into the pan. “What happened, Mr. Potter?” Darla asked helping Harry lay back onto his pillow. “My team?” Harry’s voice sounded as if it came from the other side of a tunnel, hard to hear and faded. Nurse Darla looked confused, but Ginny took in a sharp breath, making both Harry and the nurse look at her. “I don’t know much,” Ginny admitted slowly, “but from what Moody said… you were the only one to make it out of that room, Harry.” The urge to vomit almost overwhelmed Harry again as he stared at Ginny, everything still unfocused without his glasses. “Fred?” Harry asked, barely moving his mouth, sure that if he opened wide he would lose anything remaining in his stomach. “He’s… alive,” Ginny said, her voice shaking slightly. Even without his glasses, Harry could tell something was not truthful in her eyes. She wasn’t giving him all the information. “What — “ “He’s… he is in a coma.” Ginny explained, letting a hand rest on the side of Harry’s jaw as she retook her bedside seat. “You and Tonks were able to get him out of the house, but — well — no one really knows why, but on the way to the hospital, Fred lost consciousness and hasn’t woken since.” “How… long?” Harry’s throat protested at the mere idea of saying more than one word, but he had to know. How long had it been since they had retrieved Fred? “A week,” Ginny’s thumb moved along his jaw line, passing over his mouth. “You’ve been out for the same amount of time. Tonks was able to pull you out of the building… she said only the one section was wrecked.” That made sense to Harry, thinking back on it. He could remember how feeble the blast had been, well, weaker than he had expected at least. The bomb most likely ruined the room itself. Ginny moved her face in close, so he could make out a few freckles scattered across her nose. Her voice low enough that nurse Darla could pretend not to hear anything. “You really worried me, Harry. You promised to be careful.” Harry thought back to their drive back from Scotland. They way Ginny had looked at him, seeing his determination and asking him to try to come back to her… to them. Harry, of course, assured her he would. He wouldn’t leave his family if he had a choice, but in the heat of the moment… his thoughts hadn’t been on the future. No, he had to try and save his squad, and he had failed. He hadn’t been able to prevent Lestrange from pressing that fucking button, and now… Now they were all dead. Jameson, Michaels, Boot. Boot… The name triggered something in Harry’s brain. He had talked about a deal with Bella. Had he been a mole? He and Tonks had discussed the idea, but Katie’s partner. Now he couldn’t even question the man, because he been killed with the rest. Ginny was still looking at him, her eyes blazing with anger, resentment, but love was still present. “Sorry… Luv,” Harry crocked, vividly aware that Darla was still watching him. “Wanted to… save — “ “I’m sure you had a noble cause,” Ginny interrupted, “but you have another cause… our baby needs its father, Harry. Keep that in mind.” She then gave him a small smile. “I have confirmed it, by the way. I’m about nine weeks along.” Normally, Harry caused his own guilt trips. He was adept at brooding, but holy fuck had Ginny just sent a stake through his chest. His child had been growing for nine weeks now, and Harry had almost died without ever meeting him or her. Was this why most people who climbed higher up the police’s career ladder had no family? So, they wouldn’t have to think about who they may leave behind? Before Ginny, Harry had never had to think like this. It was just him. Now, however, there was Ginny, their child, himself… Ginny pressed her lips lightly to his cheek. “Don’t dwell on it now, luv. I want you to focus on getting better.” She turned to the doctors, hands on hips. “Anything?” The resemblance to Molly Weasley was uncanny. Harry had only met her a few times, but Jesus, Ginny was pulling off an extremely impressive impression of her mother. Dr. Regal turned to look at the red head. “According to our tests… Mr. Potter seems fine, other than the obvious broken foot, concussion, and chest injuries.” “Then what — “Ginny started to ask, but Dr. Regal continued. “We are just worried about the toxins found in the deceased members of the…” Dr. Regal sent Harry an apologetic look, that Harry could barely see. “The flesh on the corpses… they had some alarming affects under the basic layer of skin. Mr. Potter was either extremely lucky and was not hit with any direct toxin or it may be a passive agent, until something is triggered.” “What?” Harry asked, trying to wrap his head around all the medical terms. He had never been fond of doctors, so he never really listened to their mumbo jumbo, but this sounded… scary. “As far as we can tell, Mr. Potter, you do not have any of the elevated levels of chemicals we found in the deceased, but we want to observe you for a while and make sure,” Dr. Regal moved from his team and placed a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I would think a few days will do the trick.” He glanced at Ginny. “We are more than happy to make this room accommodating to you and Ms. Weasley, if she would like to stay.” Ginny nodded. “You bet your sweet bippy I’m staying.” Harry looked up at his fiancée and felt only love course through him, seeming to dull the pain of his injuries. Never had had someone cared about him this much. “Love… you,” Harry muttered to Ginny, moving his hand to her forearm with an extreme effort. Ginny looked away from the doctor and turned her gaze on Harry. Her eyes, though they were hard to see, had a light that burned in them that he would recognize anywhere. “Don’t get sappy on me, Potter. Save that for when you’re dying, many, many years from now.” Darla snorted. “Well, if that’s the case. I’m going to clean up this mess and bring in another bed for Ms. Weasley.” She turned her attention to Dr. Regal. “Hourly checks for now, I assume.” Dr. Regal nodded, and he and the other two doctors left the room. Darla turned to look at Harry. “Get some rest, dear. You have sixty minutes until I’m poking at you again.” Then she left the room to go collect cleaning materials. Ginny smiled down at Harry. “She right. Try to sleep for a bit. I have to call Tonks to let her know you’re alright.” Harry was about to nod, but then thought better of the movement. Instead he settled for a small smile and closed his eyes. He fell asleep almost instantaneously, but he was able to feel Ginny’s lips rest on his forehead and hear her speak softly, “Love you, too.” |
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