Chapter Nineteen

Hope

Harry awoke the next morning feeling wretched. He'd kicked all the covers off at some point during the night, but he still felt absurdly warm and uncomfortable. His throat ached, his chest hurt, and his head was pounding. He rose from the bed, his legs feeling shaky beneath him, and stumbled into the bathroom.

"You're either severely pissed, or you've got the flu, scruffy," the mirror said as he pulled open the cupboard.

He ignored it as he found a bottle of Pepper-Up potion on the shelf. He uncorked it and downed it in one gulp, watching in the offending mirror as steam blew out his ears. His stubbled-chin and bleary eyes stared back at him. The mirror wasn't exaggerating – he really did look scruffy.

As the potion began to clear some of the fog in his brain, he lurched back out onto the landing. The infirmary door was still closed, and he couldn't detect any sounds from within. He re-entered his own bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. The clock on his bedside table read half six, and he felt it was too early to demand answers. He supposed it would be all right if he just shut his eyes for a little while longer.

It seemed just a moment later when he heard Hermione's voice from outside his door. "Harry, are you up yet? Come on. Vivian is here, and she wants to see us all in the kitchen. I have coffee ready."

Harry blinked several times in an attempt to clear his head, which was still pounding and felt as if it were full of dust. Thinking the Pepper-Up Potion must've been too old to be fully effective, he glanced at his clock.

It read just after ten o'clock.

Harry's heart began to race, and he jumped out of bed, reaching for his dressing gown. The room began to spin, and he stumbled, having to grab onto his wardrobe to stay upright. How could he have possibly slept so late? If Vivian was here, there had to be news, and he'd been asleep, blissfully unaware. What if something had happened, and he didn't know? How long had Hermione been banging on his door?

His anxiety increasing as each additional thought raced through his mind, Harry had to stop on the landing, clutching the wall for support as another wave of dizziness overcame him. Gripping the banister securely, he made his way downstairs and found the others all gathered around the island countertop, awaiting him.

"It's about time," George snapped as soon as Harry entered.

"I don't know how you could've chosen today of all days for a lie-in, Harry," Hermione said, sounding exasperated.

Vivian perused him critically from beneath her Bubble-Head Charm. "Do you feel all right, Mr. Potter?" she asked, pursing her lips.

Hermione's head spun around, surveying him with narrowed eyes.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, sinking onto one of the stools and reaching automatically for the coffee. Once he smelled it, however, he put it down, turning his head away.

"You look awful," Hermione said, putting the back of her hand against his forehead.

He pulled away irritably. "Gerroff."

"Harry! You're burning up. I told you that you'd make yourself sick if you didn't start taking care of yourself," Hermione said, scowling.

"Never mind that. What's happened with Ginny and Ron?" Harry demanded, his eyes glued on Vivian.

"Mr. Potter, if you're unwell, I need to have one of the Healers come and take a look at you. Under no circumstances are you to enter the sick room until you've been cleared," Vivian said, pulling out her wand and moving to stand in front of Harry. She waved her wand over him thoroughly in what Harry now recognized as a full-body scan.

"You think I have it, now?" he asked. "I don't remember a fever and body aches being associated with Spattergroit."

Vivian shook her head. "It isn't, but I still want the Healers to look at your scan. Both Weasleys have been compromised already, so I don't want to risk any sort of additional infection. You can use the Ears, but you must stay out of that room. Do I make myself clear?" she asked.

"Yes," Harry said sullenly. He'd never put either Ginny or Ron at risk, but if he wasn't allowed to see them… that must mean they were getting better, or he couldn't make them any worse, right? "Is the draught working?"

Vivian stowed her wand and returned to her stool.

George tried to push Harry's coffee cup back to him, but Harry just shook his head. Aside from the fact it held no appeal, he was too worked up to handle breakfast even if he could eat.

"We believe Mr. Weasley is showing signs of improvement. He's still very disorientated, but that's understandable. He appears able to comprehend more of what the Healers are saying to him, and his ability to perform some of the motor skill tasks has improved," Vivian said.

Hermione visibly slumped in relief, shutting her eyes for a moment as she absorbed the words.

"What about Ginny?" George asked.

"She's still unconscious, but there hasn't been further deterioration, which is a good sign. We told you it would take longer for her since her case is further advanced," Vivian said.

Harry felt elated for Ron, but the dread surrounding Ginny still remained. He wished he could think clearly, but his head felt stuffed with cotton wool.

"Shouldn't her scans show some improvement?" he asked, slightly desperate.

Hermione's eyes opened wide. "How long before he awoke did Ron's scans begin to show improvement?" she asked, and Harry felt gratitude that she was thinking for him.

"Several hours, but the point is, Miss. Weasley's scans had been showing steady deterioration, and they've levelled off. We're considering that a positive," Vivian replied.

"Can I go up and see him?" Hermione asked.

Vivian huffed, her eyes narrowing. "Technically, none of you are supposed to have gone in there, but I'm well aware of how you all enjoy flouting the rules. I'm going to insist that no one goes in until a Healer can look you all over to be certain neither of you," she nodded toward George and Hermione, "are coming down with whatever Mr. Potter has. You," she pointed at Harry, "are to stay out until you're medically cleared."

Harry scowled, but he knew she was right. His body had to wait until this moment, until he was on the precipice of seeing his friends healthy, to fail him? Fate really hated him.

Hermione poured a glass of pumpkin juice and pushed it toward him. "You need liquids, Harry. I'll check on both of them once I can, and let you know everything that's happening," she said, reassuringly.

Harry nodded miserably, forcing himself to take a sip of the juice. It did feel pleasurably cool on his burning throat.

"Go back to bed, Mr. Potter. I'll send a Healer in to check on you shortly," Vivian said. She stood from the counter and mounted the stairs leading out of the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Harry. Once the Healer gives you a few potions, you'll feel good as new, and I have the most perfectly-sunny disposition to make an excellent nursemaid," George said, grinning widely.

Harry glared at him over the rim of his glass, putting it down after managing another sip. He slumped against the counter, placing his elbow down in order to prop up his aching head.

"Since all we're doing is waiting, there's no reason you can't do that while resting," Hermione said, cajolingly, casting a Cooling Charm on his pumpkin juice. "Help him upstairs, George, and I'll bring the juice."

"I can walk," Harry said, trying to push George's helping hand away.

George ignored him, slinging Harry's arm over his shoulders and wrapping his arm around Harry's waist, pulling him to his feet.

"Come on, mate. Just think of how delighted Ron is going to be when I tell him I tucked you into bed with a kiss on your burning forehead," George said, cackling.

"If you kiss me, I'm hexing you," Harry said grumpily, feeling irritated and refusing to admit that he was leaning on George more heavily with each set of stairs they climbed.

When they finally reached Harry's bedroom, he was panting slightly. George lowered him onto his unmade bed, and Hermione removed his glasses.

"I'll send the Healer in. I'm going to leave the juice here, and I've cast an automatic refilling charm. Try and remember to keep taking it, all right?" Hermione asked.

George pulled the covers over him, and before Harry even had time to think of reacting, he planted a sloppy, wet kiss on his forehead.

"No paybacks," George said, laughing as he ducked out of the room.

"Git," Harry mumbled, closing his eyes.

He heard Hermione walking toward the door.

"Hermione," he whispered, and the movement stopped. "When you check on Ron… tell Ginny I'll be there as soon as I can. No matter what."

He heard her snuffle before his bedroom door clicked shut.

/* /* /* /*

Harry had dozed off again, and didn't awaken until some time during the afternoon. The Healer had stopped by and left him a fresh batch of Pepper-Up Potion along with a fever-reducer. It was the fever-reducer that caused him to fall asleep. She told him that he couldn't go anywhere near Ron or Ginny until he'd been fever-free for twenty-four hours, but in the meantime, he was supposed to get plenty of rest and fluids.

Rest and fluids – what an absolutely ridiculous predicament to find himself in. There were people dying of this contagion – people he loved were dying from it – and he was told he needed rest and fluids. Pathetic.

He sat up, reaching blindly for his glasses, and swung his legs out of the bed. He did feel marginally better. He took the glass of pumpkin juice Hermione had left on his bedside table and managed to finish it before the glass automatically refilled itself. He needed to find Hermione and George to see if there had been any more news. He was certain one of them would've come to tell him if things had gone horribly wrong, so he felt bolstered by the fact they'd let him sleep.

He could hear the murmur of voices as soon as he opened his door, but they weren't coming from the infirmary. Following the sound down a flight of stairs, he found George and Hermione in the sitting room, and both looked more relaxed than he'd seen them in days.

"What's happened?" he croaked, his voice rough from lack of use.

"Harry! There you are! How are you?" Hermione asked, jumping up and leading him to a chair. He pulled away as she tried to place her hand on his forehead.

"Fine. What's happening with Ginny and Ron?" he asked, determined not to let her sidetrack him.

"Both Hermione and I were fever-free since we've been taking better care of our own health," George said primly, his eyes alight with mischief. "So, we were allowed to go in and visit with the afflicted."

"How are they?" he asked, ignoring George's taunt.

"Ron was so much better. He didn't ask the same question once," Hermione said, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"He did wonder where you were, though," George said. "He likes it when people hover around his sick bed."

"And Ginny?" Harry asked, desperate, and yet still afraid to hope.

"She hasn't awakened, but the Healers have all said her scans are improving. They're hopeful she'll come 'round at some point tonight," Hermione said, beaming.

Harry refused to allow that tiny spark of hope to kindle. He had to be certain before he'd let his guard down, but he couldn't deny that it all seemed positive. Hope was a dangerous thing and could crush you when you least expect it, so he was determined to keep his guard up.

"So, why aren't you in with Ron now?" he asked.

"The Healers kicked me out. They said Ron needed his rest," Hermione said, frowning. "I'm planning to go back up in a bit."

"How about you? How are you feeling, mate? You look less like an Inferi than you did this morning," George said.

Harry gave him a two-fingered salute that made Hermione scowl. He noticed there was a tea set on the coffee table, and he poured himself a cup. He saw Hermione nod her approval, but he ignored her.

"Had Ginny moved at all?" he asked, in a would-be casual tone. He wasn't certain that he pulled it off, however. The image of her pale, still form haunted his thoughts and was plastered on the inside of his eyelids. Ginny was never so motionless. Never.

"Well, no, but she is still unconscious. The Healers definitely said they could see improvement," Hermione said.

"Even though we couldn't," George said, and Harry met is eyes across the room. George, at least, understood the unnaturalness of seeing Ginny this way. He suspected it haunted the Twin Who Lived as much as it did Harry. Fred had been that still afterwards, too.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Andromeda all called to check on our patients – all three of you," Hermione said, smirking. "They'll be delighted to hear you're up and about."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you're both getting so much amusement out of this," he said.

"Hey, we've been stuck here for weeks – we take pleasure in the little things," George said, batting his eyes.

"I'll try and remember to throw a cough your way now and again if it amuses you that much," he said.

"Oh, Harry, we can't help if you chose not to take care of yourself. If you'll notice, both George and I are perfectly fine," Hermione said, nodding at George.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such a juvenile side to Hermione. Perhaps quarantine was good for her.

"In fact, I promised Mum and Dad I'd alert them when you were on your feet again," George said, grinning, and before Harry could stop him, he tossed some Floo powder into the grate and stuck his head inside. All Harry could see was his arse sticking out, and it was all he could do to restrain himself from kicking it.

Hermione linked her arm through his to stop him from bolting from the room. "They're worried, Harry. The least you can do is reassure them you're all right."

He really hated when she was right.

George pulled his head out of the fire-place, and Mrs. Weasley's head replaced him, peering into the sitting room. A wide smile spread across her face when she spotted him. "Oh, Harry, dear, thank goodness you're all right. I was so worried. How are you feeling?" she asked fretfully.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. Sorry to worry you," he said, lowering his eyes. He'd never become used to her over-the-top reactions to his various ailments.

"Well, I've made you some chicken soup and toast to get your strength back. Are you ready, George?" she asked.

"Ready, Mum," George said gleefully, squatting down in an over-dramatic catcher's stance, grabbing the large sealed container as Mrs. Weasley tossed it through. "Is there enough for him to share?"

"Of course, there is, dear. And I have more here if you need it," she said, beaming.

"Thanks very much, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. Her chicken soup really was very good.

"Any time, dear. Now, has there been any change with Ron and Ginny since we spoke?" she asked, her eyes turning toward George.

"It's only been an hour, Mum. They're both still asleep. One of the Healers said she'd let us know once either of them wakes up," George said.

Mrs. Weasley looked disappointed, and Harry commiserated with her. It may have only been an hour since she'd last checked, but this whole situation had felt endless.

"Arthur wants to see you, too, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said. "You have some soup and then go back up to bed. Get all your strength back, dear."

Harry felt his cheeks burn, but he nodded as she pulled her head out, and a moment later, Mr. Weasley's head appeared in the grate.

"Harry! It's good to see you up and about, lad," Mr. Weasley said, smiling as widely as Mrs. Weasley had done. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Mr. Weasley. "One of the Healers gave me some potions."

"Excellent. Owen will be glad to hear it. The chap seemed rather alarmed when I told him you were feeling a spot under the weather. Of course, given the present circumstances, that's to be expected," Mr. Weasley said.

"You spoke with Owen?" Harry asked.

"Yes, just reviewing some of the Muggle safeguards. We're waiting to see if this works before we infiltrate it into Muggle medicine. Both Ron and the Magpies' coach seem well on the mend, so we're very hopeful that we've managed to contain it," Mr. Weasley said. "Here in the magical community, we had one big event where everything spread from there, but once we narrowed it down, we were able to contain it. The Muggles have it more widespread in smaller outbreaks, but they do seem to have a handle on it now. Thankfully, it never spread across the pond, so we haven't had to deal with MACUSA. That's always a nightmare in itself."

"Do you know if the Minister has organized an investigation into which possible Death Eaters might've been involved in spreading this? Did Owen say if he was part of that team?" Harry asked.

Mr. Weasley nodded. "Yes, I'm aware a team has been formed, but I'm not officially privy to who's involved."

"And unofficially?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

Mr. Weasley grinned. "I'm certain Owen will be filling you in on some details."

Harry returned the grin, already eager to get to work. "Thanks, Mr. Weasley."

"You be sure to take care of your own health first, or Molly'll have my hide. I'm certain my daughter will want some of your time and attention, as well," Mr. Weasley said, his eyes sparkling.

"And she'll have it, sir," Harry said solemnly. He intended to ensure Ginny knew just how much she meant to him. There were things that been pushed aside for far too long, and he intended to make them right as soon as those warm brown eyes opened.

/* /* /* /*

A loud, rumbling sound was the first thing Ginny became cognizant of, quickly followed by a pounding in her head that radiated from behind her eyes to her temple. She tried to lift her hand to rub away the pain, but her arm felt extremely heavy, and moving it was a chore. She cracked her eyes open but had to shut them quickly as the light further antagonized her throbbing head. She licked her dry lips and tried once again to open her eyes. The room wasn't unbearably bright, and after a moment, she was able to keep her eyes open without wincing. The long, blue velvet curtains were drawn, and she recognized them as belonging in Grimmauld Place. She was home, but not in her own bed.

She blinked a few times, trying to remember what had happened, but it made her head throb worse, so she abandoned the effort. The loud, rumbling sound was coming from the other bed in the room, and she recognized Ron, who was snoring with his mouth open.

She grunted as she tried to sit up, but her muscles wouldn't cooperate. She was as weak as a newborn calf. A shadow fell across her face and startled, she looked up into the face of a medi-witch whom she didn't know. She couldn't recall ever seeing the witch before, but how did she get into Grimmauld Place?

"Wh–" she tried, but had to stop as her dry throat couldn't force out the words. The medi-witch aided her in lifting her head, and pressed a cool glass of water to her parched lips.

Ginny sipped it gratefully. The cool water slid down her throat, relieving the dryness and somehow helping her to organize her thoughts.

"Better?" the medi-witch asked, smiling warmly, helping to prop some pillow behind her so she could semi-sit upright. "It's nice to have you back, Ginevra. How do you feel?"

Ginny frowned. Back? Where had she been?

"What happened?" she said, taking another sip of the water.

"You've been quite unwell, but I'm pleased to see you're awake. Can you tell me where you are, Ginevra?" the medi-witch asked, watching her intently.

"Who said you could call me Ginevra?" Ginny asked instead.

The medi-witch frowned. "Isn't that your name?" she asked slowly.

"Only my Auntie Muriel calls me that, and she's horrid. What happened?" she asked again.

"Would you prefer Miss Weasley, then?" the medi-witch asked blandly, smiling as she refilled Ginny's water glass.

"It's Ginny. Just Ginny. Now, are you going to answer my question? What's happened? What's wrong with Ron?" she asked.

The infuriating medi-witch's smile widened. "Both you and your brother have been quite ill, but I believe you're both on the mend. I'm going to use my wand to run a diagnostic scan, and then I'd like to ask you a few questions. Do you feel up for that?"

"All right," Ginny said, trying to piece things together in her mind, but it felt foggy and abstract. Every time she tried to grasp onto a thought, it dissipated like mist.

"I imagine you have quite a headache, is that so?" the medi-witch asked, waving her wand over Ginny's entire body in very slow motion.

"I do," Ginny said. "How did you know?"

"Your brother complained of the same thing yesterday, and all of those in the recovery phase have reported it. It should gradually pass, but I don't want to give you anything. It's better for your memory if you're allowed recall on your own time," the medi-witch said, putting her wand back in her pocket. "Now, can you tell me who's the Minister for Magic?"

"What? Kingsley Shacklebolt, why?" Ginny asked.

"And do you know what month it is?" the medi-witch asked, ignoring Ginny's question.

Ginny frowned, not completely certain. "Uhm… August," she said.

"Close enough. It's September now. What is the last thing you remember before waking up today?"

Ginny paused, trying to organize her thoughts. She didn't know why she was here, or how she'd become ill. Her head began to pound again with the effort.

"It's all right," the medi-witch said, interrupting her. "I'd prefer to see what you do recall on your own, so let's not force it. You recognized your brother, Ron, can you tell me the names of your other siblings?"

"Bill, Charlie, Percy, George and– and Fred," Ginny said easily. "Fred died during the war."

"Very good. How old are you?"

"Twenty… my birthday. I didn't get to go to The Burrow for my birthday," Ginny said, the words coming from somewhere deep within her, but she knew it was true. What had she done for her birthday?

"Do you remember why?" the medi-witch asked.

"Spattergroit. There's been a new outbreak, and we were quarantined. Where are Harry, George and Hermione?" Ginny asked, alarm rising in her throat. Why was Ron the only one here with her?

"The others are all here and healthy. They'll be quite relieved to hear you're awake. I'm going to tell you three things, and I want you to keep them in mind as we speak, all right?"

Ginny nodded.

"Broomstick, crisps, sea. Can you repeat that?"

"Broomstick, crisps, sea. Is the quarantine over?" Ginny asked.

The medi-witch shook her head. "Unfortunately, not, but we're much closer. Your own alertness and ability to answer my questions is a very positive sign."

"What about my team? This all started to spread from one of our matches. Did everyone become ill?" Ginny asked.

"Not everyone, no, but they'll certainly be happy to hear you're on the mend. Now, can you tell me the three words I asked you to remember?" the medi-witch said briskly.

"Broomstick, crisps, sea. You're certain everyone here is all right? Why is Ron still asleep? I thought you said he was better," Ginny asked, peering over at her still-snoring brother. "Oi! Ron! Wake up!"

Ron startled, jerking into alertness. "Wha–" he mumbled, looking around blearily.

"Miss Weasley! He needs his rest," the medi-witch said, appalled.

"Ginny! You're awake," Ron said, staring at her, wide-eyed.

"I'm glad to see your amazing observational skills haven't been affected by your infirmity, Ron," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"And I'm glad to see it hasn't impaired your cheek, either," Ron replied, grinning. "How are you? You gave us all a fright."

The medi-witch walked over to Ron's bed and did the same long sweep with her wand that she'd done on Ginny after she'd awoken.

"You're doing a diagnostic scan," Ginny said, the memory coming back to her in a rush. "What did it tell you – about both of us?"

"I just do the scans, love. One of the Healers will have to read them. In fact… I'm going to run downstairs and use the Floo now to send these off for interpretation. Unspeakable Scott wanted to be made aware of any changes. I'll be back in a jiffy. You're both to stay in those beds. Do I make myself clear?" the medi-witch asked sternly, pinning both of them with her stare.

"Yes, Miss," they both muttered automatically.

As soon as the door shut, however, Ron swung his long legs out of his bed and moved swiftly towards hers, perching beside her and looking her over thoroughly.

"I couldn't have done that a few days ago if I'd wanted to," he said, grinning widely and swinging his legs. "Harry is going to be so happy to see you. He's been frantic."

"Have you seen him? When? You became ill after me, right?" Ginny said as pieces of her memory slid into place.

"They've all been sneaking in here, but the medi-witches keep throwing them out since they stay here all the time now," Ron said.

"They must've been happy when you woke up, then," Ginny said.

"Well, I was never unconscious like you, actually. I lost all my coordination, and I couldn't remember what anyone said. Hermione said it was like having a conversation with a parrot," Ron said, smiling. "George keeps checking on you. I think you gave him quite a scare. D'you remember seeing Fred?"

"What?" Ginny asked, startled.

"You told us you'd been talking to Fred one day. I don't remember it, but that's what George said."

"No… I don't remember that. I must've given him quite a start," she said, concerned. She knew Harry had told her about speaking to his lost loved ones after he'd died in the forest, but she had no memory of anything like that. "That must've been really hard for George to hear."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure he and Hermione will be back shortly, especially if they noticed the medi-witch left us."

"And Harry?" Ginny asked.

Ron grimaced. "I haven't seen him yet."

"Why not?" Ginny asked warily, trying to read Ron's expression.

"I'm certain he'll be in tomorrow, but… apparently he made himself sick," Ron said, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

"He caught it, too? Why isn't he in here with us?" Ginny asked, alarmed.

Ron shook his head. "No. He doesn't have this Spattergroit thing. Hermione said he wore himself out worrying and not taking care of himself, so they won't let him in until he's fever-free for twenty-four hours. I can't imagine how they're going to keep him out once he knows you're awake, though. I told him he'd make himself sick, but does he ever listen to me?"

"Was he really that worried?" she asked, smiling fondly.

Ron rolled his eyes again. "He let Hermione hug him, Ginny. To be honest, he does tend to worry, but I've never really seen him express it like this before. He usually pushes it down and pretends we don't notice. You're the one who holds him together, you know," he said, ducking his head.

"I wish I could see him," Ginny said, feeling an ache inside that had nothing to do with Spattergroit, or her days in confinement.

"What do you remember from being in here?" Ron asked.

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not certain. I know I've been here awhile, and I remember the scans, but everything is so foggy. Vague scraps of conversation, but it doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, that's how I felt at first, too, but it all kept popping back into place unexpectedly, especially after sleep," Ron said. "Maybe that'll happen to you, too."

"How long have you been remembering? When did you start getting better? Did they give us something to cure us?" she asked.

"Dunno. I know they've been working on a draught for a while now, so I suppose it was that," Ron said, scratching his ear.

"Didn't you ask?" Ginny asked, exasperated.

Ron shrugged. "Nope. Does it matter? There were other things I wanted to talk about – mostly like when you would wake up."

"It seems like how we were recovering should be pretty high on the list, though. D'you know anything about my team?" she asked suddenly, as something cleared in her brain. "Theresa was the first one sick of all of us."

Ron scrunched up his forehead, as if trying to remember. "One of the other Chasers was sick, along with a couple coaches, I think."

"Who?" Ginny asked. "That medi-witch said it was September, so the season must've started, right?"

"I don't think so. I think everything's been cancelled until they get a handle on this thing. Percy even had to cancel his big wedding."

"He did?" Ginny asked, eyes widening. "I guess I got out of wearing those pink dress robes in a big way. Was it cancelled or postponed?"

"He's married, but no one could attend. I think Mum's been talking about a big do at a later date, but who knows once Mrs. Abbott gets involved," Ron said, snickering.

Ginny frowned "She's a wretched woman."

"Yeah, but every family has one," Ron said sagely.

"How are Mum and Dad coping? I'm shocked Mum hasn't forced her way inside to tend to all of us," Ginny asked.

"Oh, she's tried. I think they might've had to disconnect us from anything but Floo calls, actually," Ron said.

Ginny winced. "She must've been livid. Poor Dad."

"Poor Kingsley, you mean. I think Dad shoved him under the Knight Bus, and made him be the Dark wizard," Ron said, laughing.

Ginny grinned, imagining her mother going head-to-head with the Minister over him keeping her away from her children. "Is he still alive?" she asked.

"Think so. I haven't heard that Mum's been accused of assassinating the Minster or anything, but… I've been out of it, too, so anything's possible."

At that moment, the door opened quietly, and Hermione stuck her head inside. Her eyes beneath her Bubble-Head Charm flew open wide at finding Ron sitting on Ginny's bed, chatting with her.

"Ginny! Oh, thank God! We've been so worried," she said, bustling in and hugging both of them. "And Ron! Are you supposed to be out of bed?"

"Relax, Hermione, the medi-witch is downstairs using the Floo, so I came to check on Ginny. Are you going to turn me in?" Ron asked, grinning.

"Oh! Of course, not. I just want you both to be all right," she said, sitting on the other side of Ginny's bed, across from Ron. She held each of their hands in her own. "How do you feel? How long have you been awake?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not certain, but not too long. The medi-witch did some tests, then I woke up Ron to get some answers. How's Harry?"

"He fell asleep on the sofa. George is keeping an eye on him while I sneaked up here to see what's going on. We saw the medi-witch going down into the kitchen. There'll be no stopping him if he finds out you're awake," Hermione said. "What do you remember?"

"Not a lot, actually, but bits are coming back to me. I remember knowing something was wrong with me, but very little after being locked in here," Ginny said, vague images assailing her. "Do you know how Theresa and the rest of my team are?"

A shadow crossed Hermione's face, and a sense of dread dropped into the pit of Ginny's stomach.

"Umm, well… They won't give us medical information on anyone else, so you'll really have to wait until the Healers–"

"Just tell me what you do know, Hermione. I can see there's something wrong. Did the whole team come down with it?" Ginny interrupted.

"Uhm… no, not all of them," Hermione said, biting her lip.

Ginny could tell Hermione was wary of how much to tell her, but she wasn't about to make it easy on her. She stared at her, waiting patiently.

"I do know that Theresa Grant didn't make it," Hermione said at last.

Ginny's mouth formed a perfect "O" but no words escaped. She felt rather numb. Since waking up and feeling better, she'd allowed herself to downplay how serious this contagion had been, that real lives were being affected.

"Did I miss the funeral?" she asked at last, her voice strained.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I haven't heard anything, but… I'm not sure there was one. They aren't allowing anyone to gather in big crowds right now. Maybe something small with just with her family."

Ginny thought about Theresa and how she always loved being the center of attention and the star of the show. It seemed very unfair that she would die with so little celebration of her life.

She swallowed, forcing herself to move on with her questions while she finally had someone whom she could bully answers from. "Ron said Percy's wedding was cancelled. What about Bill or Charlie. Any news?"

"Nothing in particular. Everyone is tired of being cooped up, but hopefully this is a sign we're nearing the end. I know the Unspeakables are working on something to infiltrate the Muggle world that can stop it there, too," Hermione said.

"Do you know how long we have to stay in here if we're feeling better? Will that scan show if we're still contagious?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I asked Vivian that when Ron awoke, but she hasn't given me a straight answer."

Ginny grinned. "You and Vivian still aren't getting on, eh? That's funny since you're so alike."

"We aren't alike," Hermione said indignantly.

"Oh, you so are," Ron said, nudging Hermione's shoulder. "That's what makes the fact you don't like her so amusing."

Hermione scowled, folding her arms across her chest. Ginny wanted to avoid a row between them, or she'd never get any more answers. "Ron said he didn't have the same symptoms as I did. Do you know if that's true for the others who've been infected?" she asked quickly.

Fortunately, reciting facts was something so ingrained inside Hermione, she couldn't resist the pull. "Yes. It's believed that since the brain covers so many functions, and this strain affected the brain, the variety of symptoms was vast. For instance, the test where you have to stand on one foot and bring your hand to your nose – Ron couldn't do it at all. Couldn't even do the hand motions on two feet. You didn't have any trouble with the motor skills, but your memories kept slipping further and further back. Near the end, it was impossible to even have any kind of conversation with you. It was awful," Hermione said, sniffling.

Ginny frowned, trying to process Hermione's words and put them into some sort of context to how she'd felt. "I- I don't really have clear memories, but I do recall this rage that I couldn't control. It kept rearing up inside me, and I'd want to lash out at everyone one and everything."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, the medi-witches did say you were rather hostile on some days."

"Yeah, but they didn't really know that's part of your normal personality," Ron said, nudging her hip.

Ginny scowled. "You know, I haven't forgotten how to cast a Bat-Bogey Hex, so I'd watch my tone if I were you."

Ron grinned. "Ahh, it's so good to have you back. I was afraid you'd wake up and be a different person – actually nice, or like a docile, sweet violet."

"Fat chance of that," Ginny said.

Hermione beamed. "Oh, it is good to have you back. I should go and let George come up here. He'll want to see for himself, too. I do hope Harry's still asleep."

Ginny's own eyes felt scratchy, and she knew her body had slumped down onto her pillows. She didn't have the strength to pull back up just then.

"D'you think you could hold off for a bit so I could have a kip first?" she asked, slurring her words embarrassingly.

"Of course," Hermione said gently, shooing Ron back towards his own bed and adjusting Ginny's blankets unnecessarily. "You get some rest, and maybe you'll have more of your memories restored when you wake up. It happened for Ron that way."

Ginny snuggled down, feeling the gentle tide of sleep washing over her as Ron and Hermione's quiet voices from Ron's bed lulled her into sleep.

Author's Note: And there we go! Sorry, not sorry for stressing you all out, but thanks so much for the comments and concerns. As a writer, they're thrilling to read. At this point in the story, I was damn sick and tired of our confinement, so it was time to move on, but the story isn't over yet…

As always, thanks so much to my over-the-top excellent beta team. They all serve different roles, but all of them are most definitely essential – Sherylyn, Arnel and Sue!