Word Count: 520

"Minister." The young Healer offers him a soft, reassuring smile, but Kingsley can see the uncertainty in her eyes.

"What happened?" Kingsley asks.

They've told him as much as they could already. A mission went wrong. No one is certain if a spell hit Harry, or if he is suffering from the potion fumes in the explosion. So far, everyone has devolved from useful information to awkward, uncomfortable chitchat.

Healer Deason doesn't have anything to add, except that Harry is in stable condition now, though no one is sure how long it will last.

"Can I see him?"

She frowns, wringing her hands together nervously. "I'm sorry, Minister, but he still… He isn't waking up. He won't even know you're there."

"Like hell he won't." He wants to remind her who he is, what his position is, but he doesn't. That's the sort of thing Cornelius would have done, and Kingsley promises himself every day that he will have more class than the former Minister. He softens. "Please…"

Several moments pass. Finally, she shrugs. "We aren't supposed to let anyone in," she says. "Not until we have a full evaluation done. However, if I just happen to walk away to retrieve my cup of coffee, I won't see you going into room seven." With a wink, she walked off.

Kingsley wanted to run, but he didn't need to draw attention to himself. Even the Minister of Magic isn't above the rules.

He slips into Harry's room, his heart breaking at the sight. Harry isn't supposed to be like this. He is all fire and energy and life, and seeing him, eyes closed and body so very still, is just plain wrong.

Kingsley's eyes flicker to the clock on the wall. He sighs, pulling up a chair and taking Harry's hand. There isn't much time before the Healer will begin her rounds again; Kingsley wants to make the most of every second he has now.

"You can't go," he says, his words trembling with emotion. They say the situation is touch-and-go, but Kingsley doesn't know what that means. All he knows is the love of his life is in danger, and he's terrified. "Nothing in my life has ever felt as right as this, and I… Please don't go."

He squeezes Harry's hand. "Hold on," he whispers. "Hold on to me."

Harry groans. Kingsley nearly falls out of his chair at the sudden noise. He looks out, heart ready to explode when he sees those familiar emerald eyes.

"Wh…" Harry blinks slowly, confused. "Where…?"

Kingsley is on his feet in an instant. He wants to scoop Harry into his arms and kiss him, but he resists. "Healer Deason!" he calls loudly. "Healer Deason!"

His attention returns to his boyfriend, and a relieved laugh escapes his lips. "Don't ever scare me like that again."

Harry offers him a weak smile. "Sure thing. What'd I do?"

Instead of answering, Kingsley leans in, hugging Harry gently, tears falling freely. He doesn't let go until Healer Deason and her team come in and lead him away.

The worst is over, and everything will be okay.