Notes: I have a question for all yous: I am going to write a sequel with Harry and his children and all that, but should I write one in between this story and that one? It'd be slightly less exciting and with a lot less death threats on Harry, but it could be neat... I think that'd be the only short story I'd ever write... but anyway, tell me what you think. Now, onward! There's still at least two more chapters.

Edit: Happy 2006 ya'll!

Edit again: I saw Phantom of the Opera live today! Quite awesome.

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Harry was still in the hospital. He felt fine, but apparently there was something still wrong. He got tired a lot (which Harry didn't think much of because it's hard to sleep in a hospital), but other than that he was fine. It had been nearly a week since he had woken up - a total of three weeks in all.

Anderson came in one morning. "When can I get out of here?" Harry asked.

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"Very soon."

Harry sighed. Thank you Mr. Helpful. "Why did I have to be here for this long? I'm not hurt that badly."

"No, not physically, although that leg might take some time before you get used to it again. Your body has been very weak. I wanted to make sure you were okay before I sent you home. Don't want you coming back because you fainted or something."

"But I feel okay."

"That doesn't mean you are okay. The human body has amazing ways to numb itself from the pain. I was looking over your records, and I see that you had a bad flu not long ago."

"So?"

"So, that explains why you're so weak. We thought it might be something with the medicine, like you were allergic to it or something. And after all this time it isn't your body that's the problem - it's your magic." Harry raised his eyebrows. What does magic have to do with any of this? Anderson explained: "The magical person's body is more difficult to deal with than a muggle's. If for some reason the magic isn't working properly then the whole body can be thrown off. For younger people it usually isn't a problem, but for older people it can be. They get so used to having magic with them all the time that they get thrown out of balance if it suddenly disappears."

"But I'm not old."

"No, but after that flu... Yes, you did recover from it somewhat, but it takes the body a few months to get all of its magic back in working order. The killing curse is a hard one to do, even for experienced wizards, and from what I've been told you had to do it several times."

"So you think that the flu and the curse is what's made me so tired?"

"Yes, exactly. And we're just keeping you here in case something goes wrong."

"But nothing has gone wrong, and I feel fine, so why can't I leave?"

"Here." Anderson handed him his wand and stepped back. "Take this quill out of my hand." He set a white quill on the palm of his hand and held it out toward Harry.

"Accio quill," Harry said, but the quill didn't move. "Accio quill," he said a little more assertively. The quill twitched a bit. "Accio quill!" Nothing. Why can't I do it?

"You see?" Anderson said, setting the quill back down.

For the first time in a while, Harry felt scared. He had been able to summon things many times, sometimes when he was almost dead. What if he had messed up his magic so badly that it...? "You don't think that it - I mean, my magic -"

"Oh no. It's just tired. No need to worry. You know what? I'll make you a deal. You can get out early if you promise not to use this" he pulled Harry's wand from his hand "for two more weeks. And if you still can't do anything after those two weeks then you have to come back, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"I'll have them bring in clothes for you."

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About an hour later Harry was ready to leave the hospital. Anderson had given Harry's wand to Mrs. Weasley, so that he wouldn't be tempted to use it. A nurse had brought him crutches, because he couldn't walk on his leg for long distances. He was ready to get out of there, finally, but before he did he had someone to see.

Ron had gone home two days before, but Ginny was still there. Harry wasn't allowed to see her, though. Mrs. Weasley told him not to worry, that she was coming home in a day or so too, and that everything was okay. She's fine, he told himself. Besides, it'll be better to be with her once she comes home. Then she won't have a swarm of healers around her all the time.

There was a car waiting for them outside, since Harry obviously couldn't apparate. Unfortunately, every reporter in Europe was also waiting for them. They must not be allowed in the hospital, Harry thought, so they waited outside.

As soon as he stepped outside, a wave of camera flashes almost blinded him. Every reporter jumped on him, asking what his comments were or how it felt to be the boy that lived again or what his plans were now... Harry didn't answer any of them. Mrs. Weasley led him to the car. The reporters followed, asking questions through the windows and taking more pictures.

"Out of the way, you idiots," Harry heard. Bill was driving the car. "I will run you over with this thing. Too bad the flying car was trashed - we could just fly over them." Harry laughed. It felt really good to be out of that hospital.

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Ron was lying on a couch, his head on Hermione's lap. When they saw Harry they moved a bit so that he could sit as well. "Hello stranger," Ron said.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked.

"Fine, just a bit tired."

"Are you hungry at all, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I am." Ron said quietly.

"We know," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Harry said, getting back up. He hated staying in one place after nearly a month of lying in a hospital bed. Ron and Hermione followed. Bill suddenly went running upstairs, and Mrs. Weasley followed. Fred and George were in the kitchen, cutting vegetables.

"There he is!" George said.

"Tell us Harry, how does it feel to be the awesome, amazing, spectacular, really cool eighth wonder of the world?" Fred asked, shoving a chunk of broccoli in Harry's face like it were a microphone. Harry just stared at them.

"Please sir," George said, shoving a carrot at him in the same way, "your public has the right to know."

"What about this girl of yours?"

"Yes, when's the wedding?"

"Who will you invite?"

"When's the baby coming?"

"Both of you stop it," Hermione said. "Those are meant for dinner, not to be shoved up Harry's nose."

"For your information," George said, "broccoli can be used as a very effective decongestant - if applied correctly." Hermione glared at them, and Harry and Ron laughed. They all stopped though, because Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen.

"Goodness, Fleur," she said under her breath. "If I had known being a grandmother would be this much of a pain I wouldn't have -" But she stopped and turned back around. A different sound was coming from upstairs - a baby crying, of course, but not just one.

"Twins?" Harry said after she had left again.

"Yep," George said.

"Runs in the family," Fred said, looking very proud.

"I take it there not too quiet?"

"Why do you think we volunteered to cut vegetables without magic?"

"The one sleeps all the time. The other doesn't - any noise you make that one goes off and wakes the other one up." George explained.

"Poor Bill. No wonder he jumped at the chance to leave for a second," said his twin.

"The adults are more annoying than the babies," Ron said. "The way they talk to them - if I ever have kids I'm not bringing them here."

"Oh, yes you will," Hermione said.

"Yeah, probably." Harry stared at them for a second. For once, they weren't arguing. He couldn't believe it - Fred and George being helpful, Ron and Hermione being quiet - it was like the world had turned upside-down during the time that he had been in the hospital.

"How old are they?" Harry asked.

"A month and a week, or something like that," Ron said.

"A month, two dayz, and fourty-zeven minutes," Fleur said, entering the kitchen. "'Allo 'Arry. Good to zee you back."

"How's it going?" Harry asked.

"Oh, it iz good. I juzt need to get avay from ze crying for a momont."

"Can't say we blame you," Fred said, staring at the potato he was cutting.

"Boyz, and girl," she added, looking to Hermione, "thankz for being zo quiet. It helpz a lot." The crying started again, and Fleur turned quickly and ran back upstairs.

"And to think we only stopped by to say hello," George said.

"If we had known what we were getting into," Fred said, looking at the pile in front of him and then up at the ceiling.

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The car was parked outside again. Harry knew where they were going without asking anyone. "Can I go?" he asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Sorry, Harry, but I think it would be better if you stayed here. We won't be too long."

"But -"

"You should stay here," Bill said, quickly heading for the door. "She might need to lie down in the back seat, which is easier if no one else is there." Harry stood there, watching them leave. He wanted to just run and jump into the car, but that would never happen - he wasn't going to be running anywhere for a long time.

"Come on Harry," Hermione said from across the room. "Come sit. We'll wait together." Harry went and sat next to her on a couch. Ron was in a chair across from them.

"Want to play chess?" Ron asked. Harry didn't answer, but Ron magic-ed the board and pieces to them anyway. "I love magic... Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to play?"

"Sure." Harry wanted to play, but he couldn't concentrate. Ron beat him three times in a row in about that many minutes.

"Harry? Hello?" Ron waved his hand in front of Harry's face. "You in there?"

"No."

"Just relax," Hermione said. "She'll be here soon. No sense in getting yourself all stressed out."

"It's not that." Harry mumbled.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know. I just - don't feel like playing chess right now. Sorry." He got up and crutched into the kitchen. He just wanted to be alone.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, following him.

"I guess."

"You guess? So is that yes or no?"

"Physically I'm fine. Well, besides that." He motioned to his leg.

"Are you sad?"

"Not really. I kind of - don't feel anything. Just a little depressed I suppose."

"Depressed about what?"

"If I find out I'll let you know."

"It's not about Ginny, is it? Because you know she won't blame you for anything."

"No, I'm happy about that. It's something else."

"Well, if you figure it out, you can come talk to me. Or Ron, even. He might be a buffoon but he can listen when he feels like it."

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Harry sat at the kitchen table and studied the grain of the wood. It was old and worn out - it reminded him of the table at Grimmauld Place. Speaking of which, he needed to get back there. If I'm going to live long enough to use it I might as well make it livable, he thought. Plus a dirty old house is no place for a lady...

Suddenly there was the sound of tires outside. Harry would have jumped up if he could, but it's hard to jump up with one leg. By the time he got to the living room the front door was already open. And there she was - walking on her own, with a little balance help from Mrs. Weasley, but still in a much better condition than he'd thought she would be in. She didn't see him, or if she did she didn't say anything. Mrs. Weasley helped her to a couch and told her to stay there until she prepared her room. Bill went upstairs quietly.

The two of them were alone in the room. Ron and Hermione had disappeared long ago. Harry came up to her quietly. She was lying on her side, with the bad side of her head up. He noticed that they had cut her hair - she looked like a red-headed Tonks - but at the moment he didn't care. He was just glad to see her.

He sat down on the floor in front of her, as he couldn't exactly stoop down or kneel. Then he looked at her - her eyes were closed, and he didn't want to disturb her. But she opened her eyes and smiled when she realized it was him. She reached out and touched his face. "Hey baby," she said quietly. Harry smiled back, grabbing her hand. "I missed you."

"I missed you more."

"Ginny?" Mrs. Weasley said, coming back downstairs. "Come on." She helped Ginny up (Harry scooted out of the way and then used the couch and a crutch to pull himself up). "Quietly now. We've finally got them to sleep."

"The babies?" Ginny said. "Oh, I've wanted to see them so badly! I -" she stopped, realizing that Harry was still by the couch. She turned to him. "Aren't you coming?"

"Uh - yeah. I'm coming. Slowly."

"What color is their hair? Red or blond? I have a bet with Fred that both will be blond - he thought that one would be red and one blond, but-" Harry didn't hear the rest of it because he was too far behind. Going up stairs... another thing that's hard to do with one leg...

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When he finally got to her room she was lying in her bed, on the same side as she had been on the couch. Mrs. Weasley had already left the room. "Come on," Ginny said to him, touching the open spot next to her.

"You sure your mum's going to be okay with this?" he asked, sliding onto her bed.

"It doesn't matter. Lie down." She pulled on his shoulder and he slipped down slowly, mostly because of the leg. When he was on his back she came closer and put her head against his shoulder and her hand on his chest. He leaned his head on top of hers. Yes, he had definitely missed this. "He said you'd never come."

"What?"

"Voldemort. He said you'd never come for me. But I told him he was wrong. I knew he was wrong."