A boy with black hair, green eyes, and a peculiar lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead slowly opened his eyes.
He woke up to a glaring bright light, causing him to reflexively pull the sheets over his head. Where was he? Was he dead? Was he finally dead?
He couldn't be. He quickly pulled the sheet off his face, not understanding why he even did that in the first place. He was in a white room - looked like a hospital. Probably St. Mungo's, he assumed.
And then it all clicked, and a victorious smile lit his face.
She returned back to the room to watch over Harry and was surprised to see him awake.
"Harry, you're awake! Oh! I was so worried! It's been three weeks, and the healers can't tell me anything useful. The Weasleys have been visiting as well, but are also busy with the reparations. Fred and Charlie suffered rather severe injuries, but they've both been discharged this week. And well...how are you feeling?" She didn't give him a chance to answer as she quickly wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly and quietly sobbing.
He didn't know how to react. Well, this was awkward. And unexpected. He hadn't prepared for this, so he just let her get on with whatever it was she was doing.
"Oh, Harry! When I saw you fall, I was so worried - everyone was worried. We just saw you send that last curse and then – you both fell." Here she started crying again, and he almost rolled his eyes at such pathetic behavior. Really, where were these urges coming from? Motor memory? "And I was so scared! I'd thought you really died though I didn't want to believe it. It was bad enough seeing Hagrid carrying you in and believing you dead once, and if it hadn't been such a strategic move on your part – you can bet your arse that I'd be scolding you for it now!
"But I'm just glad you're okay! And at least it's all over now. Well, no, actually it's not over. There will be reconstruction, a bunch of crazy ministry decrees trying to control the aftermath, trials, escaped Death Eaters, acquitted Death Eaters like Malfoy who always seems to slime his way out of trouble, and who knows what else."
At last, perhaps she was done talking. He placed his hand on his head as it started to ache in a motion that seemed very familiar. Her face quickly grew worried. He felt annoyed all over again. "Harry, are you alright? Should I bring the nurse? The healer?"
"No – no, I'm fine. I just have a headache. You talk a lot."
She looked momentarily offended, and then gave an amused laugh. "Honestly, Harry, are you channeling Ron?" She gave him another quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Now lie down and get some rest. You're obviously not feeling well, and I don't think Healer Littlefoot will be happy to know that I've upset her patient after she specifically forbade me to enter. Don't worry, though. I'll come by and check up on you later after I've seen to some of the others."
She closed the door.
Finally.
The Dark Lord lay back on the bed, unconsciously rubbing the scar on his forehead. He had some planning to do.
A/N: This occurred to me shortly after the 7th book came out, but I posted it in hopes that I would write a full story. Obviously I never did. For those wondering about my other stories, I haven't abandoned them. I've been busy, and when I'm not, I much prefer reading to writing. I hope to get back to work on them soon.