**sorry advance for the rushed feel of this chapter. I need to fluff it out a bit more, b ut I feel it's important to keep plugging away while the ideas are flowing, so I'll beautify this a bit more at a later date. HOPEFULLY THIS WONT DISCOURAGE YOU FROM READING AND FOLLOWING! I now have an official plot line which is thrilling fo r me as it's my first crack at story writing :) thanks for taking the time to read my humble words. blessings.***

"Oh Harry!" cried Molly Weasley, "What in the name of Merlin are we ever going to do with you? It seems that not a week goes by that we don't have the opportunity to visit you in some hospital bed or other."

Mrs. Weasley bustled over and in a fit of motherly tenderness, began plumping pillows and straightening the already stiff blankets.

"and I suppose you won't even tell us WHY you look like the back end of a gnargle this time?"

Harry couldn't help it, he chuckled. he was oddly touched by her busy concern.

"Molly dear," intoned her husband quietly, "you know as well as I do that Harry is definitely not allowed to chat about what he gets up to with the Auror Office. Its a matter of safety. "

"well," hissed Mrs. Weasley,"talking of safety, why on earth is Harry even in this state? It seems to me that Harry is only an apprentice, and not an Auror. They shouldn't be allowing him to put himself in these dangerous situations."

Harry chanced a glance at the rest of the weasleys who were studiously not involving themselves in their parents squabbling. Ron was glancing airly at the ceiling, george was rolling a dung bomb through his fingers and Ginny was watching her hands tie knots in a small kerchief that harry recognised as one he had seen her wear in her hair on occasion.

"yes, well, I can't say don't agree with you," conceded mr. weasley, "but Harry is of age, and, I'm sure you'd agree that he's proven himself more than capable of taking care of himself ."

He reached a out at hand and patted his wife gingerly on the arm, "he's also not our son, Molly, much as we'd love to claim it"

Mrs. weasley deflated a bit at this, but satisfied herself with reaching out her plump hand and resting in on on Harry's cheek, her expression kindly and concerned.

"Harry dear, you know I love you like my own, but of all my blessed children I believe you may be the one who's given me the most gray and George included in that." George looked affronted at this but she continued as if she did not notice him, " Please think of the state of my poor nerves next time you get the urge to be brave."

Harry wasn't sure if laughing or reassuring her would do more good, so he settled on a slightly ambiguous smile.

"Mum, are you trying to talk Harry Potter into taking a desk job?" Ron laughed exasperatedly, "honestly woman!"

she whirled and glared at Ron who shrunk back into apparently observing the ceiling.

"No, of course not, I only want Harry to exercise a bit more caution. stay with Arlen, maybe?"

"He's dead." Harry stated flatly. He rather knew it to be true than believed it himself. All of the weasley's had suddenly became silent and still at this.

"Dead?" said Mr. Weasley.

Harry did not respond.

George was looking between harry and his father, eyebrows raised in shock.

"so…." trailed George.

Harry found it suddenly hard meet the eyes staring at him.

"He took a killing curse for me," He looked down at his hands, which felt oddly numb and then the guilt flooded out of him before he could stop it, "I didn't even think he liked me, and now he's dead. He didn't owe me his life… there was no reason for him to die for me." then, after a heavy pause,

"I just can't….He had a wife. Maybe he even had children? I don't know, I never thought to ask..." and it's too late now he thought.

"He didn't." said Mr. Weasley, "I knew him, Harry, his apprentices were his children, he would have done the same for any of them."

Harry looked away as his eyes prickled with hot tears. It was a mark of how different he really was that the idea of not being special was infinitely more comforting to him. He'd had enough of being special, enough of being the chosen one. He wanted no more deaths on his hands because he was "special" or "important". After the moment Harry took to gather himself he turned back and found Ginny looking directly at him and immediately was taken by the arresting look in her lovely hazel eyes. Was it fear? Compassion? Or understanding? Harry found his mouth was suddenly very dry. His mind was transported back to sunny afternoons by the lake at Hogwarts and He felt his pulse quicken a fraction. With a jolt he noticed Mrs. Weasley looking between Ginny and himself, her mouth slightly open, a look of curiosity flashed across her face before she marshaled it into a small sad smile. Hastily he looked down at his folded hands.

"Arlen was a good man, and he'd been an auror long enough to know the risks, and I dare say he knew them better than you do." she soothed. "you can't blame yourself. It would do him a great disservice."

"Molly is right, Harry." added Mr. Weasley.

"But why is anyone trying to Kill you, Harry?" said Ron, a worried note in his voice, "You-know-who is dead, isn't he? Who else would try to curse you? Maybe it was the Malfoy's Harry. Draco still hates you as much as ever." It was so much like Ron to think of the Malfoy's first, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same.

"If I knew that I'd…..do something about it." He was about to say track them down, but with a glance at decided against it, for the sake of her nerves, he thought charitably.

Harry knew that the Weasleys would have a hard time understanding his emotions at the moment and indeed he was trying to organize his feelings for himself. He couldn't tell whether guilt, shame, or sorrow held the biggest portion. The pain was, for the moment, a dull ache but he knew from experience that the hurt would mature in time, turning into ravaging beast that would haunt him every night as he lay down to sleep. Some would call him the fortunate one to have survived so many times, but he knew that the pain of death was almost nothing to the pain of living with blame. The dead were at peace, and he, Harry, would never be at peace he thought mournfully.

He chanced a glance at Ginny who was back to twirling the kerchief around her finger her brows furrowed in thought. At that moment he cursed his younger self for not learning the tiniest bit of occlumency. He longed to know what she was thinking. Ron' voice brought him back to the present in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood,

"Hermione is coming later, Harry. She tried to come earlier but the mediwitches told her you were not well enough for visitors. She tried to explain that she was practically family and that you wouldn't mind but they told her she wouldn't be permitted to see you even if she was your mother. Well, you can imagine how well she took that. If they'd had any sense they would've let her in straight away or risk landing themselves in the curse injuries ward. I think she must be getting a bit more control of her temper because she'd agreed to come back after work instead"

Harry chuckled appreciatively at the note of pride in Ron's voice.

"That's a real shame," said George seriously, "I've always enjoyed watching her hex you, Ron."

at that moment the door at the end of the ward opened with a snap and the brusk looking mediwitch bustled down the ward a look of irritation on her face,

"Harry will not get well until he is allowed to rest. He needs food," she gestured at the forgotten onion soup rapidly cooling on the side table, "and sleep. It seems he's getting neither while you lot are here. Perhaps it's time for you to go home."

Mrs. Weasley swelled with apparent outrage and opened her mouth to retaliate but rested his hand on her arm in a gesture of admonition. She closed her mouth but continued to glare at the intruder with a look that would have withered any of her children. the mediwitch glared right back, and changing tactic she rounded on Harry,

"Well, when you're given the okay to leave this place you will of course be coming to stay at the burrow for a few days, until you're well enough to go back to work at any rate. I'll not have you being looked after but that horrible old house elf, Kreacher." as an aside she added, "You know, I really think it's crossed his mind to poison your tea? You really ought to give him clothes and be done with it.

Harry caught Ron's eye and smirked at the thought he knew they were both having of the indignant look Hermione would be throwing Mrs. Weasley at the mention of poisoning house elves.

"Of course I will come, Mrs. Weasley."

"No need to owl, just come straight away."

"I will."

leaning over she planted a kiss on Harry's forehead and smiled sweetly down at him,

"Be good."

Harry smiled."Aren't I always?"

"Hmm." she said through pursed lips,standing up and turning to her children, "well, lets be off then. George. Ron. Ginny."

Harry glanced at Ginny who stood without a looking at him, her red hair hanging in delicate curtains around her face. He thought she was behaving as she had used to before they had dated, shy and reserved. He knew that the real Ginny was neither of those things. He wondered inwardly at the change in her. Was she embarrassed to see him? Had she moved on and was now being forced to accompany her family to see her ex-boyfriend at St. Mungo's? Harry did not like this last thought. He could tolerate many things, but he didn't think he could tolerate Ginny regretting a visit to him. He forced his mind away from these unpleasant thoughts he raised a hand in farewell at group of retreating redheads.

The Harassed mediwitch gave a satisfied grunt and then rounded on Harry, snatching up the soup from the side table and forcing it into his hands. Harry took it with a frown.

.

"This was not for decoration." she said folding her arms and looking as though she were going to stand there and watch him eat it.

"I can manage soup on my own, thanks." he said dully. She gave him a dangerous roll of her eyes and then turned on her heel and marched down to the door at the end of the ward calling back,

"I'll be back to make sure its gone,and that you're asleep in half an hour." and with that the door closed with a snap.

With an exhale Harry dutifully put the bowl to his lips and drank. Though it was cold there must have been some magical properties because he felt a warmth diffuse through him. He leaned back on his pillows with a sigh. He would rather be at the burrow being fussed over by Mrs. Weasley than by the surly mediwitch, but he had to admit her potions were doing him good. He opened his eyes again and was immediately caught by a brightly colored object on the floor. He noticed suddenly that his eyelids felt enormously heavy and his eyes were having trouble focusing. He realized that this was probably also from the soup. he forced his mind out of the fog and concentrated on the thing on the floor. It was the kerchief that Ginny had been playing with.

Setting his bowl on the table, he sleepily extracted himself from the stiff blankets, walked sleepily over and bent down to pick up the kerchief. He now saw that it was turquoise and patterned with tiny gold threaded flowers. With a swooping sensation he felt a rush as dizziness overcame him and he was forced to stagger forward a few steps to keep from falling flat on his face. Righting himself with a hand on the white metal footboard of his bed the silk kerchief clenched in his free hand, he stood for a moment, clutching the bed with one hand and the kerchief with the other willing the room to be still. When finally the movement ceased He tentatively, and keeping one hand on the bed began the careful process of climbing back under his covers and sinking back into his bed.

Harry lightly held the kerchief to his nose and breathed deeply. It was like a tonic. the sensation of warmth surged through him like electricity. He was comforted in a way that was beyond magic, or perhaps it was its own kind of magic, Harry didn't know but he fell into soft dreams that were all warm and satisfying ...and she was always in them.