This one's longer. Those of you who don't like Ginny might want to skip the first bit, as she's making another scene.
Chapter 13
When he came to, Bill was lying on the floor on the platform at the end of the Great Hall. Fleur was holding his hand, and his mother was beside him, and someone was sobbing and clutching at the front of his robes. "Easy, Gin, easy. He's okay, he just fainted." Charlie's voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. "I thought he was dead too! And I told him I hated him! I thought he'd died too! Oh, Bill! Bill!" Bill had never heard his little sister crying like this: it was a standing joke that as the only girl in a family of seven children she was the one who never ever cried. With an effort that seemed to take all the strength he had left, he lifted his free hand and stroked his sister's hair. "I'm okay, Ginny," he croaked. "I'm okay. It's alright, I know you didn't mean it. Just stop strangling me, would you?" Ginny choked, and seemed to be making an effort to control herself. Her grip on the front of Bill's robes slackened as she sat up and Charlie pulled her into his arms.
Bill closed his eyes again, feeling Fleur's hands stroking his ravaged face, and distantly hearing his mother saying something to Madam Pomfrey about comfrey ointment and dittany.
They would not let him get up, and eventually Madam Pomfrey's remedies stopped his wounds from bleeding, although they were still raw, and the pain was as bad as it had been immediately after Greyback's attack nearly a year ago. Fleur would not leave his side, but finally succumbed to exhaustion and slept, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Madam Pomfrey was saying something about St. Mungo's, and Bill mustered his remaining energy to protest, to tell her he just wanted to go home. She gave him a stern look, and muttered: "We'll see what your mother has to say about that, young man," sounding just as she had when he was fourteen and had burnt most of the skin off his hands in a disastrous attempt to liven up a dull Potions lesson.
Surprisingly, however, his mother backed him up. "No, Poppy," she said firmly to Madam Pomfrey. "We've lost Fred. We need to be together right now. Bill's coming back to The Burrow with the rest of us. Fleur and I are quite capable of looking after him – we've done it before." Bill thought Madam Pomfrey might argue, but she did not. Instead, she pulled his mother into a brief hug, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Of course you want to be together, Molly," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry…"
Bill managed a faint grin for his mother, and squeezed her hand. "Thanks, Mum." Molly's tears overflowed as she knelt and held her eldest son close. "Oh, Bill," she choked, "Charlie told us what happened. We could have lost you too…" Beside Bill, Fleur stirred and woke, pushing her hair back from her face and blinking at her husband and his mother as she took in what Molly had just said. "Bill!" she cried. "Is zat true? You deed not tell me zat!" "Charlie saved my life," Bill confirmed, putting an arm around her and kissing her, "But I'm okay, you don't need to cry like that." But, despite his words, Fleur was clinging to his arm and crying as if she would never stop. Beside them, Molly choked back her tears and wiped her eyes. "Come on, Fleur," she said, with something of her old brisk manner, pulling her daughter-in-law to her feet. "Bill doesn't need us weeping all over him. Let's find ourselves a cup of tea." Fleur snorted. "You Eenglish!" she complained, "You sink a cup off tea can cure anysing!" But she allowed herself to be led away, leaving Bill alone.