This is by far one of my favorite chapters! It answers lots of the questions you've all been asking me, and makes way for new ones, so enjoy!

Chapter 12

June tenth. There was one week until the party, and the women of the house began to realize it.

There were frequent trips to Diagon Alley for products and accessories. We had all been into Madam Malkin's the one week prior to be fitted for dress robes. Mine had been paid for by an unknown source, although I had a good suspicion as to who did it.

Hermione and Ginny and I had proceeded afterwards to buy accessories to accompany our formal robes. The giggling that accompanied our trip into Cornelia's Crystal and Jewelry Shoppe was increased at the price of the items, which were also anonymously paid for.

When there was a mysterious bustle in the middle of the night prior to the big day, everyone was up and rushing to the landing.

Bill flew down the stairs, fully dressed.

"What's going on?" asked Ron, his voice dangerously low.

He stopped and looked. "Ron, go wake Ginny. Charlie's up."

§

I sat in the den above the kitchen. A small fire was going in the fireplace where Hermione, Harry and I sat, each with a cup of tea and a blanket. I stared into the embers, urging the fire to take the form of a face.

"Do you think he's okay?" asked Hermione quietly.

"I do," said Harry.

Everyone else had gone back to bed, muttering about not being able to do anything until the morning. The Weasley's were all at the hospital, and we awaited their call. Without notice there was a 'pop' and Kreacher appeared to Harry's left.

"Hello Kreacher," said Hermione kindly.

"Stupid mudblood," whispered Kreacher. "Kreacher was wondering if Master would like a drink?" he said a little more loudly. He held up a teacup, which appeared to be filled with a moldy drink of some sort. Instantly the smell reached my nostrils and I started to cough.

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU STUPID THING!" roared Harry. He bounced up from the floor where we were sitting, and went to grab him. Kreacher disappeared with another 'pop'.

"Harry, don't," said Hermione softly. The attempt to ease Harry of Kreacher was half-hearted however, and she turned away to stare into the fire.

"I'm sorry he said that Hermione," said Harry. He sat back down and wrapped the blanket tightly around himself. For a moment all that could be heard was the crackling of the wood. Harry prodded it with a poker and the small tent of wood collapsed upon itself. The flame burned brighter.

"Would it be rude of me to go get a book?" I asked almost inaudibly. Hermione looked at me and faintly shook her head.

"I think I'll come with you."

I stood up alongside her and then turned to Harry. "Want anything?" He shook his head.

As we walked into the hallway to the library, Hermione began to talk.

"The Weasley's are his family. I'm surprised he didn't go with them. They looked after him. When he was in the last task of the Triwizard Tournament, it was Mrs. Weasley who was there to greet him and hug him, and wish him good luck. When Sirius died, they watched over him until he healed the best they could." She let out a dry laugh. "This is destroying him inside. He's lost so many people Beth. When Neville was murdered, I think that affected him the most. Bellatrix Lestrange tortured him, like she tortured his parents. You know where he was when he was supposed to be in bed healing Beth? He was at Neville's bedside. He sat with him until he died, and when I told him he should go back to bed, he told me that no one should die alone."

We turned the corner into the library. "When Neville died, I think he waited on you, you know that?" I stopped and looked at her. "It's true," she continued, " when Neville died, he started sitting at your bedside like he sat at Neville's. He became… obsessive. When he heard you had no family—or at least you couldn't remember, he was drawn to your room everyday. You probably didn't know it because you were sleeping all the time. We all thought you were going to die, and then you lived. That's," she paused and took a breath. "That's why Ginny was so angry I think. She thought that if you died, then Harry might too. She," Hermione looked the other way. "Don't take this personally Beth, but Ginny thought it was your fault it took him so long to recover. She thought he healed at pace with you. When you were clinging to live physically, he was too, only in a different sense," she pointed to her head. "He was dying up here. And then you lived, and so did he. I think you were his sign of hope."

She turned and walked to the bookshelf, running her hands along the spines of the thousands of books. I didn't know whom she was talking about, but it made sense in a small way. I withdrew a book from the shelf opposite her without looking at the title. She drew up her wand from her belt on her pajama pants.

"Lumos!" she whispered. She walked along the shelf reading the names of books until carefully withdrawing one from the top most shelves.

She looked at me, her tears a little watery.

"I hope I didn't scare you just then. I just," she let out a long sigh. "I just couldn't handle seeing him hurt again. So don't you go do anything to yourself!" She wagged her finger at me jokingly.

I held up my right hand. "Promise."

§

We waited in front of the fireplace for the next three and a half hours. Within two Hermione had given into temptation and had fallen asleep, sprawled out on the floor. I concentrated on my book, but in truth I hadn't turned the page in an hour. I had moved to Hermione's other side, so that she had more room, and therefore was in-between her and Harry.

He hadn't moved once. His body was still hunched over, his eyes motionless, staring into the embers. I felt that if I moved I would disturb the balance, so I also remained stationary. My butt had gone numb a good time ago, and I was glad my wand wasn't sitting in my butt pocket, but holding my book open.

We didn't say a word between us, Harry and I. We sat unspoken, and immobile. The silence wasn't stressed however, just impatient. If I had made conversation, I'm sure he would've responded. I didn't though, because I knew the conversation would've been forced.

Harry had looked after me to replace his loss. That was my conclusion. He didn't truly like me; I was a project. When he had held me those few weeks ago, he had done it as a friend, comforting a friend, and nothing more. I was okay with that, wasn't I? My eyes glazed over the words in my book. Ginny was right to be angry I supposed. But how could I trust her, knowing that if I was to get sick, he might, and she could turn on me completely. Were her acts of kindness just that; or were they forgiveness gifts, for the past and possibly the future. I read the same sentence for the tenth time when there was a spark. My head shot up as did Harry's.

My stomach dropped as I saw Arthur's head in the fire. He gave us a small grin.

"Been sitting there the whole time have you?" I didn't move, afraid my left butt cheek might fall off.

"He'll be fine."

After those three words were spoken I realized that I had stopped breathing. Beside me Harry had let out a long slow breath.

"The healer's say that he can come home next week. They just have to run some tests, but he'll be alright." Arthur's face looked old and weathered. "We are going to floor in the next few minutes, so unless you want to be squished, I'd suggest you move." His face disappeared and we remained still.

"We should move Hermione," I said. My voice was scratchy from lack of use. My friend was still spread out across the hard floor, a blanket thrown hastily on top of her.

Harry stood up slowly, although showing no signs of pain from sitting in one position for so long.

"I think my butt cheek is going to fall off," I said softly. He looked at me as if realizing I was still there and pulled me up with a small mocking smile. I pulled away from him quickly, feeling awkward at his touch. I picked up my book and wand, placing them gently on the table next to the worn couch.

Harry toddled over to Hermione and picked her up, carefully placing each arm underneath her neck and knees. He lifted her as if she was a rag doll and placed her on the threadbare couch. I covered her with the blanket, and tucked it around her shoulders.

Sure enough, within minutes the Weasley Clan was in the living room. Molly was sniffling and Bill looked a little grim. Ginny was leaning on Ron and he helped her take off her coat. She stumbled, eyes half closed, and gave Harry a small smile before being lead up to bed by Ron. I watched her, unsure of how I felt.

Arthur and Molly also left the room, not saying a word, but merely holding hands. Bill said good night and followed his parents out. Fred and George had come back to the house with their family, and had walked up to Harry and I to put in a quick word before going to the spare room designated with two beds for their use in the basement.

"He's a little bit shaky and confused, but overall he seems to be alright. Any of the painful healing that needed to be achieved was done while he was sleeping, so physically he's fine."

It's the brain he's going to have a bit of trouble with," finished Fred.

George gave a kind smile. "I think we shall make our way to bed—"

"Good night—"

"Sleep tight—"

"Don't let the bed bugs bite!"

The two of them leaned towards the door, giving Ron a small hug as he walked back into the room.

"I've got to get Hermione," was all he said, and Harry and I got out of the way. Ron levitated her up the flight of stairs to her bedroom, and I leaned heavily on the railing for support as we moved. My exhaustion started to kick in, and although I had regained feeling in my bottom and legs, I still found it hard to walk.

I stumbled on the top most step and let out a little gasp. I flailed my arms trying to catch onto something when something caught onto me. Harry proceeded to stand me erect and allow me to lean on him the rest of the way. I wanted to pull away, but found myself much too tired to do it. I was his project, I reminded myself, but it seemed my brain didn't connect to my heart. When I reached my room I expected him to depart in the direction of his, but to my surprise he assisted me by sitting me on my bed, taking off my slippers, and tucking me in. His hands brought the bedclothes up around my shoulders, and I was instantly warm.

"Night," he whispered, and walked out.