"Hey, Harry." Ron grabbed Harry's hand and sat in the chair next to the bed.

Still no response.

Ron sighed, looking at his comatose friend. Harry looked dead; pale, thin, dark circles under his eyes. Ron took comfort in watching his chest slowly rise up, then back down.

He sat like that for what seemed like an eternity, though it was only a few minutes.

"You know," Ron whispered, chuckling. "now you could totally live up to that look you were going for up in Glasgow, what with all the black and stuff. Bet you could pass for a zombie right now. Maybe even a vampire." He didn't know why he was trying to cheer his friend up. It wasn't like he could hear Ron's attempt at a joke.

He picked up Harry's arm and looked at the snake tattooed on the inside of the forearm. He had seen it before, but really didn't have a clue where it had come from. He thought it was some cruel joke on Voldemort's part. The idea that Harry had done it himself had never even crossed his mind.

But the tattoo reminded Ron of the body art place Harry had worked at. Inkheart...or something.

"I wonder how they're doing." He looked at his friend.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"-Derrin, Sam, and that other guy." He continued. "I kinda forgot about them, you know, with the whole, final battle with, uh, Voldemort, and all."

I...listened.

It wasn't like I could do much of anything else.

It was the weirdest thing- after I had...killed myself, I kind of 'slipped away' or something. There was no real way to explain it. I fell, and it was like my body shut down, but my mind didn't. I could still hear things, feel things, smell things, but my body was numb. I could feel people touching me, picking me up. I could feel when a needle was jabbed into my arm or something, but that was it.

All the pain I had carried around for well over two years now had just vanished. My back didn't hurt, my leg didn't hurt, my throat wasn't sore, all the aches and pains from the various torture I went through had just disappeared. Also, I couldn't feel any pain in my arm or anywhere from my final little 'duel'.

I rather liked this 'numbness'.

The rest of it sucked though.

I was completely aware of everything going on around me. I had heard everything said near me during the past four days five hours and twenty five minutes.

Yes. I was very, very, bored.

The worst part is, I hadn't slept since this whole thing started, cuz, technically, I was already asleep. So I just laid there the whole time, listening to what was going on around me, feeling the warmth of the blankets, hearing the healers working around me, everything that was going on I could hear, really. Even out in the hallway.

Hagrid still hadn't left his post.

But there was something else bothering me. Something bad.

Well, two things, really.

One: The healers had found that the potion that would supposedly cure me had to be administered while I was 'awake'. Really awake. Not this fake coma type awake. So how would that work? How would I be able to tell if I was awake or not without opening my eyes? Talk? I had talked a lot since I came in here. In my mind. My mouth didn't move, although sometimes I could've sworn it did. So how would I know whether or not I was really talking?

As soon as I opened my eyes, in a room full of wizards and witches and friends and teachers...well. I didn't really want to think about it.

And two: If I was still alive...