Someone is shaking him, hands gripping his shoulders too hard.

He feels numb, and there is far-away shouting.

The cold wash of a spell rushes through him and he shivers.

Eyes fluttering open, the world is a blur of colour and black haze.

"Harry?"

It's too much. He's so tired.

"Harry!"

Lights rush in and out of sight.

They're too bright, too sharp.

The pain is everywhere but… distant at the same time.

He falls back into nothing.

He notices his own breathing; slow, deep, steady.

His mind wanders as if through fog.

Is it time to get up? Has he overslept? It's been a while since he felt this… rested.

His body is heavy, his bones turned to honey and his muscles sunken deep into the mattress.

He doesn't want to move.

It's a bit like when he woke up after Mrs Zabini's massage.

The thought parts the fog in his mind and his eyes shoot open. Lurching up, he immediately doubles over with a groan, his entire body sore and his chest tender like a freshly healed wound. With a trembling hand to his chest, he looks around blearily and finds an all-white room with sunlight streaming in through a window. Blinking against the blurriness, he reaches out and fumbles beside the bed, finding a table and, after bumping into a pitcher, his glasses. As soon as he puts them on, the Auror room at St Mungo's comes into focus.

Heart racing under his hand, Harry takes a few deep breaths. There's an Auror robe thrown over the chair in the corner, and the night stand is cluttered with his wand, a glass, a pitcher of water, a plethora of potions vials and… a vase overflowing with deep red peonies made up of hundreds of seemingly shredded petals.

They're called Red Charm.

I'm not like you traitors!

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and rubs a hand over his face, pressing his other hand against the phantom pains in his chest. Merlin, he feels like he's been run over by the Hogwarts Express.

There's a click, and Harry looks over just as the door opens. Ron slips in holding a large coffee mug and gently closes the door before turning around.

"Harry!" he exclaims and comes hurrying over. "How are you feeling? Are you okay? Stern told me you'd probably wake up sometime later tonight."

"I feel like shit," Harry says, only to break into a coughing fit when he realises how sore his throat is.

Ron immediately puts his mug down and gets the pitcher to pour Harry a glass of water, handing it to him as he says: "Yeah, well, you look pretty bloody glorious now compared to when we found you. You were all cut up and bleeding all over the floor."

"How did you find me?" Harry asks raspily after a few deep gulps of water.

"It seemed pretty obvious something was wrong when Thickenesse showed up in the middle of the Department with your robe and wand, especially when you didn't follow straight after. We subdued him - you should've seen it, the whole Department practically bounced on him! - but we couldn't get any straight answer out that bastard so Robarts called emergency protocol and poured some veritaserum right down his throat." Ron falls silent and looks Harry in the eye, his face turning serious. "I thought we'd lost you for a moment there, mate."

"I was pretty sure I'd die, too."

"Yeah, well… we're all glad you didn't," Ron sighs and claps Harry on the knee before getting up. "I'd better go get Healer Stern, or she'll have my head if she finds out I haven't told her you've woken up."

Harry nods, then frowns. "Ron?" he asks and Ron stops and turns, hand on the door knob. "Does Ginny…?"

Ron's face falls. When he looks down at the floor, Harry already knows what the answer is going to be. "I'm sorry, Harry. We've tried to reach her but she's in the middle of a game that's dragging on… I'll talk to her as soon as it's ended, okay?"

Harry looks down at the scratchy, green blanket over his lap and nods in spite of the disappointment that's heavy against the inside of his ribcage. "That's okay," he says and keeps his voice steady enough that he can hope Ron won't notice. "Thank you, really."

"Of course, mate. Any time."

Severe blood loss.

Concussion and skull fracture.

Bruising around his neck and to his vocal chords.

Three deep lacerations across his chest.

And finally, a broken collarbone that he doesn't even remember getting.

After feeding him a rapid stream of potions and casting more diagnostic charms than Harry knew existed, Healer Stern lists his injuries from his chart through lips pressed together in disapproval. "I do hope you have thanked Auror Weasley for his quick acting, Auror Potter. By all accounts, you should be dead by now. The emergency treatment Auror Weasley gave you is the only reason you weren't a corpse when you came in last night. Now, I'm going to keep you here to monitor your recovery for the next couple of days, and I want you to stay in that bed. You will rest, and you will sleep, and you will eat regularly and take your prescribed potions on time. If I find you trying to exercise in here or - Merlin forbid - set foot out that door, I really will tie you to the bed this time. Am I making myself clear, Auror Potter?"

"Yes, Healer Stern," Harry answers, feeling very much like he's back in McGonagall's office to get detention.

"Good. We have healed you to the best of our abilities, but your body still needs time to recuperate and you may experience dizziness, nausea, fever and lingering pains. In rare cases, the combination of potions I've given you has made patients float. If you do, call for a nurse immediately and do not open the window, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Healer Stern."

She nods, then shoots Ron a glare over her glasses. "As I understand it, Auror Weasley needs to collect your statement - which I have expressed my firm disapproval of - but as soon as you're done talking you will take this potion," she says and hands him a vial of a potion that's blue as a clear summer day. "It'll help you rest. Now, what do you think I'll do if you don't take the potion?"

"Force feed me?"

Healer Stern nods shortly, a satisfied twitch to the corner of her lips, then turns on her heel and marches out the door.

"I actually think she might kill you next time you show up injured," Ron chuckles weakly and pulls the chair up to the bedside, moving some potions bottles and the vase of peonies out of the way to smooth out a parchment on the bedside table.

"I thought I'd come by the office once I'm out to leave the statement?" Harry says when Ron fishes a quill out of his pocket and balances it on the parchment.

"Oh, no, mate. You're practically banned from the Department for the next few weeks, Robarts has put you on leave and said he doesn't even want you to set foot in the Ministry. I've got orders to get your statement and then I'm to make sure you rest."

"Sounds like I'd better just stay in bed, then."

"Absolutely. Now, can you tell me what happened? We haven't been able to get anything usable out of Thickenesse."

Sighting, Harry rubs his face and frowns. "I got the rest of the list from Mrs Zabini, then left to go back to the Department and I… I was so stupid," he says, thinking back with a groan. "I was too focussed on the case. I saw him as soon as I stepped out onto the street, but it's a muggle area so I didn't think anything of it. He was wearing this baseball cap that covered his face, and…"

The blue potion Healer Stern left him is a sleep inducer that has him drifting off within minutes of Ron leaving, making him float in and out of consciousness in a way that makes time pass in a mindbogging manner. Harry can swear he's only dozed off for a couple of minutes when he wakes up for the first time, but when he opens his eyes the shadows have stretched long over the floor and the sky is orange outside the window. He turns over, meaning to reach for his wand for a Tempus, and then he opens his eyes to a dark-blue evening sky. This time he does manage to reach his wand with fumbly fingers, and realises he's been sleeping for nearly six hours. He should feel energized and rested by now, should at the very least get up for a stretch, but his limbs won't move to push him up out of the comfortable warmth under the blanket. In the darkness of the room, he blinks slowly at the peonies and drifts off again with a smile.

When he wakes next, it's to the soft patter of rain against the window and a gentle knock on the door. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Harry rolls his head to the side as a nurse comes in with a food tray.

"Good morning, Auror Potter," he says quietly, checking the potions bottle on the night stand before he looks at Harry. "How are you feeling?"

The poor guy must be reporting directly to Stern, Harry thinks as he pushes himself up to sit. "Great, thank you. That blue potion had me out like a light."

"Very good. Are you feeling up for breakfast?"

"Yes," Harry answers, wondering if Healer Stern would even allow him to refuse the food. He takes the first few bites under the nurse's watchful eyes and is somewhat surprised to find that he is actually really hungry. Then again, when was the last time he had anything but potions?

The nurse nods to himself, seemingly satisfied by Harry's new-found appetite. "Would you feel comfortable taking visitors, Auror Potter?"

Harry nods, then pauses. "What visitors?"

"I believe Ms Ginevra Weasley is waiting in the reception," the nurse says, and Harry's appetite is immediately gone.

"Please let her in," he mumbles into the tea that suddenly tastes like hot dish water.

"Are you sure, Auror Potter?" the nurse asks with a frown. "If you're too tired, I could…"

"No. Thank you, but… I do want to see her," Harry says, wishing he wouldn't feel like he's trying to convince himself more than the nurse.

Ginny comes bursting through the door only minutes after the nurse has left, nearly making Harry upend the tray in his lap when the door bangs against the wall. Her hair is wild and she's still in her Quidditch gear.

"Harry! I came as soon as I heard from Ron but they wouldn't let me see you until now!" she exclaims and throws her arms around him, almost tipping the tray again. "Ron told me you got injured on the case, are you okay?"

One hand steadying the tray, Harry raises the other to pat Ginny on the shoulder. She squeezes him hard and though he knows it's nothing alike, it's still too much like the restraints keeping him from moving, the rope burning his neck and cutting off his air.

"I'm fine," he coughs, feeling strangled, and Ginny thankfully lets go.

"Are you sure? Ron made it seem like it was a pretty big deal…"

Harry opens his mouth, then sighs and closes it again. He should tell her, at least the gist of it since the case isn't officially closed yet. He should let her know that he almost died, that he was cut open and bleeding out in a warehouse less than two days ago, but… With a sinking feeling in his chest, he realises he doesn't want to.

"It was bad," he settles for. "But it'll be okay. We caught the culprit, so… It's over now."

"Oh, good!" Ginny smiles, and Harry recognises it as the smile that used to make his heart beat fast. Then her smile fades and she shifts awkwardly, her shoulders tensing. "Ron also told me… about Zabini."

"What?"

"He told me that she helped you with the case, and I… I wish you'd told me, Harry. That you were just meeting her for the case."

"Ginny, that's…"

"I know. I know you can't talk about your cases, but… you could've at least told me that, Harry. Then I would have known that it's just for work! It's okay, though. I mean, now that the case is over, you won't have to meet her again, right?"

Harry stares at her, his gaze flickering back and forth between her hopeful, brown eyes. In that moment, he knows that he could agree and go along with it, that things between them would go back to how they'd been. He would be on leave, so they would have a bit of time together between Ginny's matches to reconnect and patch things up, but what then? What about when he's back at work and the next case comes crashing into his life, when they'll both be busy again and will barely have time to say hi when they happen to cross paths in the house?

"Harry?"

He looks away, to the water running down the window panes and the peonies that look almost purple in the grey light. He thinks about the last moment before he lost consciousness, his last thoughts that were not about him and Ginny or even his best friends, but how nice it would be to finally be able to sleep and not have to wake up to all his worries.

Darling can lie back and close his eyes and know that everything will be fine…

He takes a deep breath and looks back at Ginny, and sees that the hope has already dwindled, replaced by realisation slowly settling in.

"Ginny, I… It's true that Mrs Zabini did help us with the case, but… that's not why I initially met her." He pauses for breath and Ginny is already pulling back. "You know I've been having these really bad headaches. They got so bad the healers wouldn't even let me take pain potions for them anymore but Mrs Zabini, she… she has a way of helping me with it."

"But the case is over, Harry," Ginny says with finality in her tone, as if she's stating simple facts and doesn't understand why he can't put two and two together. "You'll be on leave now, won't you? So you can rest and the headaches will go away, and you won't need that woman to help you."

"What about the next case, Ginny? And the one after that? I need to have a way of tackling the headaches because I can't know when they'll be back."

"What is it she's doing that's so special, then? What is she doing to help that I can't do?"

Harry tries to picture being Darling with Ginny and grimaces before he can stop himself. "She has a way of letting me be someone else, someone who has no responsibilities and doesn't have to worry about anything."

"So that's what it is, then?" Ginny shoots up off the bed, her temper flaring in an all too familiar way. "I'm not enough of a doting wife waiting around to take care of your worries when you come home?"

"What? No, Ginny, it's not because of that! But… We're both busy, you with Quidditch and I with work. We just… don't really have time for each other."

"So that's it, then? You've already found someone else, so we don't even need to try?"

"Ginny! I'm not having an affair with Mrs Zabini! I told you, it's because of the head-!"

The door opens and they both whip around to see Healer Stern walk in. She must have heard their argument, but clearly doesn't care if she is interrupting. She levels Ginny with a deeply unimpressed look.

"I believe you were told that Auror Potter needs rest, Ms Weasley. As the Healer in charge of his recovery, I must ask you to leave."

"We're not done talking."

"Then you can continue talking at a later time, at another location, but I am hereby revoking your visitors permit. Will you walk out on your own, or will I have to call security?"

For a moment, Ginny looks like she'd love nothing more than for Healer Stern to call security. Then she throws Harry a dirty look before turning and storming out, banging the door shut behind her.

Harry sags against the pillows, rubbing his forehead when the beginnings of a headache makes itself known.

"I'll let the staff at reception know that Ms Weasley will not be permitted as a visitor," Healer Stern says.

"Thank you," Harry answers quietly and looks up at her. "Really, I mean it. I've lost count of how many times I've been in your care now."

"It's good that you know to be grateful, but it would be better if you knew to take care of yourself," she says, but she says it with a smile.

He eats, takes the blue potion and sleeps, and when he isn't sleeping, he wishes he was. Alone in the room with nothing but the rain against the window to break the silence, he can't help but wonder what he's going to do during the leave. The house will be empty and silent, with nothing but memories and an empty room he's never going to repaint to keep him company. Has Ginny already packed her things and left, or will they continue the fight once Harry has been discharged? Which option is better; a completely empty house, or more arguments?

He groans and rubs his temples and tries to not think to keep the headache from coming back. Often, he finds himself looking at the peonies with their flowers bursting with petals, remembering the carefree and bone-deep relaxation Mrs Zabini gave him.

When Healer Stern casts the last diagnostic charm over him and deems him fit to go home, the thought of doing nothing in an empty house for two weeks has pulled tension into his back and the headache is steadily building. Having changed out of the patient gown and packed the few belongings he's had at the hospital, he sits on the edge of the bed and stares at the rain through the window, trying to muster the will to go home.

There's a knock on the door and Harry looks up in surprise. He knows Ron is busy at the Department, wrapping up the case, and Hermione is taking care of Rose. Ginny is certainly not going to pick him up to take him home, so who…?

"Yes? Come in!"

The door opens and in walks Mrs Zabini, expensive-looking robes wrapped suggestively around her curves. She smiles as she closes the door, her dark eyes swiping over the room before she gives him a thorough once-over.

"Mrs Zabini? How did you…?"

"How did I… what? Know that you'd be here? Know that you're being discharged today? Everyone knows, I'm afraid - the reception is packed with reporters."

Harry groans and buries his face in his hands, the headache throbbing. He twitches when Mrs Zabini touches his shoulder, and when he opens his eyes she's standing directly before him. Her hand moves from his shoulder and around to the back of his neck and he drops his head forwards with a sigh as she massages the tension out of him.

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," Harry mumbles, letting his eyes drift close. "I just… don't want to have to worry anymore."

"I understand you have some time off now that the case is over," she says and Harry can't be bothered to question how she knows that. "Would you like to be Darling?"

Blinking his eyes open, he stares down at his hands. Memories clash before his eyes, merging into new disturbing patterns; Mrs Zabini massaging his neck that first night at the Ministry gala and Thickenesse shouting "You should get on your knees and kiss her feet if she lets you touch her!", Mrs Zabini giving him a massage in her sitting room as he's bleeding out on the concrete floor, closing his eyes on the padded bench and in a puddle of his own blood and in the hospital bed while thinking I just want to sleep.

His head throbs viciously and he vinces.

The hand stills to squeeze his neck, then she takes hold of his chin and tilts his face up to look him in the eye. He doesn't say anything, doesn't know what to say because everything seems much too complicated for a simple yes, but Mrs Zabini doesn't seem to need a verbal answer. She smooths her palm over his cheek and guides his head forwards to rest against her stomach. Her fingers comb through his hair and his eyes fall shut again as he feels himself leaning into her.

"There you are, Darling," she hushes. "Let me smuggle you out of here and take care of you. I will make all your worries go away."

Closing his eyes, Darling smiles.

A/N: Thank you for reading Darling~! It's a story I wanted to try my hand at after reading a few too many Detroit: Become Human fanfics but I think it's quite different from what I'm used to writing so I really hope it turned out okay! Please do leave a comment and tell me what you think - constructive criticism and general cheering is always very much appreciated!

Cheers to you all, and stay safe!