One of the smaller wings at St Mungo's had been allocated for the survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts. Healers were specially vetted, and the whole wing was doused in protection charms. Harry, despite being briefly dead, was one of the few who required very little medical attention. Everyone seemed to want to see him- as though somehow the fact that he'd survived meant that they really had won. But after everyone had been seen to, and were either tucked up in their hospital beds recovering, or sitting by someone's bedside, or heading home to grieve in private, Harry found himself sitting in an armchair staring at the unconscious forms of his two best friends.

They looked awful.

Too thin. Too grey. Beaten.

The healers had had to cram extra beds into the room to fit everyone in, so the beds were quite close together and Harry had had to do a bit of creative transformation to make the armchair fit. He had a lot of empty floaty feelings. He felt weird about Ginny. He also felt too tired to think about it.

I'm alive.

Quiet voices penetrated Harry's dozing mind. They were familiar, and soothing, and slowly woke him up- but by the time this had happened, he knew who it was, and what they were saying, and it seemed prudent to stay sleeping.

"I told you spell damage was serious."

"I know spell damage is serious, but it's not like I was properly hit- it was just sort of refracted hex-"

"Yeah, right, like the healer didn't say you'd've liquefied your organs if I hadn't pointed it out,"

"Honestly, Ron, it's not that big a deal, I'm fine. Unlike you. Your arm looks so weird. Is it- does it hurt?"

"Well, it's not comfortable."

There was a pause.

"It's odd- when Lockhart vanished Harry's arm bones that time, he took all the finger bones as well and it just looked like a long floppy glove-"

"Yeah, well. It was just my shoulder and upper arm that shattered, so they didn't need to vanish the rest."

"It looks really weird."

"Says the girl who just had a semi-transparent neck just a few hours ago,"

"Yes, all right, that was a bit weird too."

There was another pause, and Harry started to wonder if he could un-crick his neck in a way that would seem like he was still asleep.

"You know, technically, you shouldn't be able to do that."

"What?"

There was another pause, which Harry assumed was Hermione casting Ron a dry look.

"First grade spells are not designed for the things you use them for,"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Malfoy Manor. You come running up the stairs, and a bunch of Death Eaters just happen to be thrown against the ceiling hard enough to knock them out? Hogwarts just now, giant pillar comes crashing down, you somehow keep it and part of the ceiling up long enough for people to escape, shattering your wand arm in the process? Do you even have any idea how unusual that is?"

"Well-"

"I mean, it's for floating feathers Ron. Frankly, I thought you must've been using grade 8 construction charms, but that's a really distinctive swish and flick you've got going."

Ron mumbled something indistinct.

"What?"

He sighed.

"It's really not a big deal."

"You can't be serious. Dorothea Windlethrop wrote an entire treatise on the subject of lesser magics and charms, and the fact that they have limited power potential."

"Well, maybe Dorothea Windlethrop was wrong. You can't believe everything you read."

There was another pause. Harry knew it could go either way at this point.

"What you did is akin to using a plastic spoon to- to- carry bricks or- blast through concrete. Has it occurred to you that Windlethrop might still be right, and you're just remarkable?"

Ron snorted.

"Yeah, likely. Anyway, it's just that one."

"Have you tried others?"

"It's not- I don't- look, I don't do it deliberately. It's just- well, I mean, Harry 'expelliarmus'-es things- I just- well, I just float stuff."

"Uh huh."

"You make that freaky blue fire when you get panicky, I know that was you. That corridor was still burning when we left."

"That corridor was full of Death Eaters."

"Yeah, well, massive bits of stone masonry were about to squash you like a bug, so I stopped them. What's the big deal?"

There was a rustling sound.

"Hey, put that away. You're not allowed to do magic when you've got spell damage!"

"What? Oh. Drat."

Harry seized the opportunity to shift in a sleepy sort of way and get his head in a more comfortable position. He wished he'd taken his glasses off before he fell asleep. Maybe if he… oh no. Too late.

"I can do… other things with it though."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… I can't do it that well left handed but…"

Harry cracked his eyes open and watched as Ron floated a bunch of chess pieces in complicated patterns in the air.

"That's incredible,"

"It's not really,"

"Ron."

"No, it's not, look, you just hold the pattern in your mind, and then when you swish and flick, you just sort of-"

"Ron."

"Yeah?"

"Why that spell?"

Extremely pregnant pause. Harry tried not to squirm. The chess pieces tinkled one at a time onto the bedside table.

"Well, it's kinda memorable."

"Right. I was a nightmare. You know, I was only trying to help. Was it- was I really that awful?"

"It's not- it wasn't-" Ron sighed, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to impress a girl who's a million times smarter than you?"

Silence you could cut with a knife, thought Harry. Didn't see that coming. Bold. Go Ron.

"You were- but- what?"

"Oh come on. I know you know. Ginny talks."

"Well- yes, but I had no idea it went back that far."

"Yeah, well."

"But it doesn't make any sense,"

"It does actually. I met you. You're you. Caring, brilliant, gorgeous. Incredibly annoying. What's not to love?"

Sheets rustling.

"What're you doing? You're supposed to be on bed rest, you've got-"

"Spell damage, I know."

"So, what are you-mmph."

Harry realized he was going to be stuck pretending to be asleep a lot longer than he'd anticipated. Merlin's balls, he thought, should have yawned and sat up during one of those pregnant pauses.