Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to these characters.
For the first time in months Harry woke up alone. His entire body ached and a dull pain in the back of his head tugged at his eyelids, holding them closed. Colors danced in the darkness and he felt nauseous as he realized that he had no idea where he was. He had to open his eyes.
His head swam. Green and gray twisted together in a swirling mass above him. Sit up. The back of his head was slick. He could smell the blood. Vomit rose in his throat. He swore under his breath and clutched the bedpost beside him, bracing himself as he bent over the side and heaved. His eyes and nose burned. Again. He tried to swallow. Again. Tears streamed down his cheeks and slowly, the room came into focus.
He was in a four-poster bed, heavily laden with faded emerald bed curtains. No wonder it was so quiet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tore off the covers. The rush of blood in his ears was deafening. He didn't hear Hermione until she was just behind him, one comfortingly cool hand on his bare shoulder and the Marauders Map in the other. Right, he remembered. He'd put it in that bloody beaded bag of hers before- before what? He remembered his walk to the dungeon. He remembered bracing himself against the wet, stone walls as exhaustion finally overtook adrenalin and his legs threatened to give way beneath him. When had he last slept?
There had been fireworks. He remembered how they lit up the sky in a bizarre show of celebration as people tended to their dead and injured below. He remembered the Weasley's, huddled around Fred's body. He remembered Tonks and Lupin, laid side by side in the great hall and he thought of Teddy. Hermione was moving her lips frantically without sound, her face contorted with concern. Her grip on his shoulder tightened. He was going to be sick again. He leaned forward and she released him. He felt the bed shift as it was relieved of her weight and he was alone once more. The rushing in his ears began to subside.
When he opened his eyes again Hermione was standing beside him with a glass of water and… Ginny. His cheeks burned. He could hear Hermione now. She was nearly shouting. "Harry, look at me. Can you hear me? Harry!" He nodded; still not ready to speak. "I'm going to find a nurse," she said. She handed the glass to Ginny and hurried from the room, casting anxious glances back over her shoulder as she went.
Ginny climbed into the bed and made him drink. When he was done she removed her sweater, dampened the sleeve, and wiped the back of his head clean, surveying the damage intently. He turned to face her and saw how exhausted she looked. Her eyes were red from crying, her skin waxen and dirty. Her hair was tied back in a matted ponytail, revealing a series of deep cuts along her jaw and down the side of her neck. She leaned into him then, pressing her forehead against his unshaven cheek, leveled by the weight of his gaze. "Harry," she whispered. "You're ok. You're ok." He wrapped his arms around her.
"I'm ok," he promised.
"I'm ok," she echoed.