So begins the one hundred chapter story of Harry's recovery after the war. If you spot some sort of inconsistancy with the books, please tell me. I'm ashamed to say I can't recall all the facts of the books off the top of my head, and some things slip my mind.
That being said, this is entirely work-in-progress, and I can only hope that I finish it one day.
Day 001
The First Day He Laughed After the War
His bed sunk under the weight of another body, and Harry groaned in his sleep. "Bugger off," he mumbled, drawing his hands over his eyes.
"Mum's got lunch ready," George's voice chirped. "You can't stay in bed all day."
"I won't," Harry assured him, rolling into a more comfortable position. For a moment, he thought George would give up, but he didn't give the boy enough credit. The covers were suddenly ripped off his body. Harry drew himself into a tight ball. "Go away, George!"
"Can't, Harry. Mum's orders."
"Tell her I'm not hungry." He felt a pair of hands try to grip his arms and clumsily fought them away. "George," whined Harry, opening his eyes just to glare at the boy. With a wide grin, George cupped a hand around the hole where his ear used to be.
"Eh? Speak up, lad, my hearing's not what it was!"
Harry didn't know what to make of it. He stared, blinked. Something bubbled in his chest, and escaped from his lips in a huff of air. Laughter. Harry had nearly forgotten what it felt like. Almost guiltily, he stifled the noise and glanced up at the other boy with wide eyes. Then they both laughed. They just sat down on that bed and laughed at themselves until Molly Weasley shouted for them downstairs.
Please review! Thanks!
