CHAPTER FOUR
There was a gentle weight on his chest, and then it lifted. Intense pressure, and then that was lifted too - it returned and then lifted, and returned and lifted, like the rhythm of a drum. One-two-three-four (the gentle weight on his chest this time) one-two-three-four (gentle weight) one-two-three-four
And his eyes opened and opened and stretched, and from his lungs came stale air, and he screamed - but it was such a feeble yell that it came out like a gasp. His vision swam into focus; Bethany Rose was kneeling over him, her face contorted, her perfect blonde hair in strands around her now-bloodless face.
"Harry!" she yelled, as if from far away, as if from underwater.
"Harry!" she yelled again, and she was closer this time.
"Harry!" she yelled, and this time it was as if she was right over top of him, and this jolted him, and he sat up quickly, almost smashing into her forehead.
"God," Harry panted, looking for a swear that would approximate this seeming unreality.
"Are you okay?" Bethany said, half-yelling now, fear apparent in her voice.
Harry looked at her, wanted to reassure her, but he wasn't sure what he felt. This was not his first experience with the Killing Curse, nor his second, but this was the first time he been hit by someone other than Voldemort. He looked around, saw his hands laying limply on the ground, and wiggled his fingers. He wiggled his toes, and his feet.
Harry burst out laughing.
"I'm okay," he said, incredulous. Bethany let out a long breath. He tried to get up, but his legs were weak.
"Stay down, it's okay," Bethany said. But Harry persisted, and she helped, and soon he was on unsteady feet. He felt bile rise in his throat, and his vision go a little dark.
"I'm not doing so well," he said, and then his legs gave out, and he went down to his knees, and upon his kneecaps hitting the cold ground, his vision went dark.
He woke again in a hospital bed, glasses off, sky dark. He looked upon the shadowing hospital room with some confusion. He could see figures in the room with him; three of them, by his estimation. One was close by, their head almost on the bed, and the other two were leaning on each other against the wall.
"Hello," he said stupidly, looking at the figure closest by. They woke up at once.
"Harry, oh god," she said, and he instantly knew it was Ginny.
"Can I have my glasses?" he said, again stupidly. He felt them being pressed gently on his face.
He blinked, and blinked some more - things came into focus. Near his bed was his girlfriend, Ginny. Ron and Hermione had been on the wall, but had moved next to Ginny. They were packed in so tight, they looked almost like sardines. He smiled.
"Hey guys," he said. Ginny and Hermione were on the verge of tears. Ron had a curious case of the sniffles. Ginny leaned forward and kissed him, hard, and Hermione and Ron leaned over for long hugs.
"Another Killing Curse, mate? Starting to repeat yourself," Ron said, voice hoarse.
"I'm a fan of the classics," Harry said with a smirk. He shifted in his bed, and he felt a burn in his chest, and he let out a groan.
"Are you okay?" Hermione and Ginny said together.
"I'm fine. Just sore," Harry said.
"Can you tell us what happened?" Hermione said.
Harry did. He tried to minimize the attack, and didn't really bring up how it felt to get hit by the Killing Curse again; the looks on their faces as he told them about how it hit him square in the chest made him want to keep that to himself. But he told them everything else, even about the case, which he was sure the Deputy Minister would not have liked. But here he was again - not the Boy Who Lived, but the Man Who Survived. Add that title to the list, he thought, very wearily.
"I'm not really sure how I survived it," Harry said.
"The Killing Curse requires intent and power. Your attacker must not have had it in him," Hermione said.
"I've got it in me," Ginny said quietly. Harry smiled, and squeezed her hand.
"Don't go murdering people on my account, G. Azkaban isn't a great place to visit," Harry said.
"The dementors are gone. It's not so bad now," Hermione said.
"Don't encourage her," Ron said.
Harry smiled again. He suddenly felt very old. This was all too much. It crossed his mind that he had never been in a hospital bed that wasn't at Hogwarts.
"St. Mungos, right?" Harry said.
"Nah, mate, they took you to a Muggle hospital," Ron said sarcastically.
"Be nice," Hermione said.
"If he was nice, I'd think somebody had possessed him," Harry said.
"It's happened in this family before," Ginny said.
Yes, Harry thought, it had. A lot had happened in this family. A lot had happened to him, specifically. This was another thing to add to the list. Too much stuff, too many things. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest, right where the jet of green light had gone into and through him. He felt lightheaded. Was he having a panic attack?
But nobody seemed to notice anything different. They were all still smiling at him, though Harry thought Hermione might-
"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione said.
"Yeah," Harry lied. "Just tired."
They left him alone after that, though none of them left. Hermione and Ron settled against the wall, and Ginny laid her head back on his bed. They were asleep before he was, though he did his best to fake it and keep his eyes closed. He didn't want to sleep with this fear in his heart. He was afraid if he went to sleep now that when he woke up it'd be engraved - that it would never go away ever again.
But sleep he did, eventually.
When he woke the next morning, Ron and Hermione were gone. Ginny was talking to the Healer, but when they saw he had opened his eyes, they both came over to his bed.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter," said the healer, whose name tag read Anna. She was a tall, black witch, with thick hair tied into a ponytail.
"Good morning," he said.
"Sleep well?"
"Yes," he lied.
"Glad to hear it. You've been through quite the experience. Let's run a few tests, see what comes up. You okay with that?" she said. Harry nodded
Anna took out her wand, and muttered a few words Harry couldn't hear. She placed the tip of the wand on his right arm. It pulsed cold and hot, but not unpleasantly, and after a minute or two, she took the wand off his arm. She waved the stick in the area, and green smoke and yellow smoke poured out. She smiled at the results.
"You're in pretty good shape, all things considered. No lasting damage," Anna said.
"Will I have another scar?" Harry said.
"I doubt it. Your original scar was a, well, unique case."
Anna stowed her wand in her pocket.
"I would suggest that you stay until tomorrow morning. We'll be bringing you a variety of potions to make sure that your energy is back to where it needs to be."
"What's two days in the hospital, right?" he said with a smile. Anna frowned.
"A day?" she said.
"Yeah. If I get out tomorrow morning, that would make two days, right?"
Anna and Ginny exchanged looks. Anna looked back at Harry.
"What is it?" he said.
"Harry, honey," Ginny said, laying a hand on his arm.
"How long have I been here?" he said, almost demanding.
"Tomorrow will be two weeks, Mr. Potter," Anna said. Harry felt a cold spread in his chest.
"Two weeks?" he said.
"You were unconscious for most of it. It's been a little more touch and go than I'd like to admit," Anna said.
How close to death had he been? He assumed that Bethany waking him up meant that he was relatively okay; who gets to their feet after a gunshot and then passes out for two weeks? Two weeks. He couldn't let that number go. Two weeks is a very long time, he thought stupidly. Maybe that was why he was thinking so stupidly. Saying things so stupidly. He had been in a coma for two - fucking - weeks!
Harry tried to get out of bed, suddenly, but his legs were feeble and the furthest he got was them swinging over the bed.
"Harry, no," Ginny said.
"Two weeks?" Harry said, looking up at her.
"Yeah," she said, her voice breaking.
"I'd like to recommend a counselor, if that's alright," Anna said.
"Yes," Ginny said.
"I'm fine," Harry said.
Anna and Ginny looked at him.
"I'd like to check out, too. Is there a way I can do that potion regimen from home?"
"Yes," Anna said, "though we don't really recommend it-"
"We'll muddle through. Ginny, will you help me get dressed?"
"I think you should stay in the hospital for another day. Please," she said.
"No," Harry said with false brightness, "I'll be just fine."
He stood, very weak, but he held himself aloft.
"Not to kick you out, doctor, but I need to change into my clothes," Harry said.
"Of course. If you change your mind, please let me know," Anna said, and left.
When the door had closed behind her, Harry felt something break inside him. He looked at Ginny, but couldn't look her in the eye. She came over, and wrapped her arms around him. He felt hot tears spring to his eyes.
He felt so lost. He had once willingly walked to his death, a boy who became a man who chose his fate, and he had been fine with that. To die in the service of his friends and family was an honor - a joy, even, despite the fear that had filled his veins as he walked through the Forbidden Forest.
But this was different. This was unexpected, and pointless, and cruel. He was just doing his job - just trying to - but it was both more and less than that. It wasn't just this time. It was every other time. It was when he was a baby, or when Aragog had cornered them, or when Quirrel had reached for him. It was the dragons in the Triwizard tournament, and the hedges that grew over Viktor Krum, and Cedric's body, cold in his hands, shirt bunched up over his hands as he wept into his still chest.
Too much had happened. Too much inside him, fighting to get out. He had to let this out, but if he let it out, if he let it out, it would stay out. He couldn't do this.
Swallow it down, wrap it in chains, drop it into the depths of your soul. Harry did this, and with a deep breath, he looked up at Ginny.
"You okay?" he said, that false note back in his voice. She looked at him, sadder than she had ever been.
"Yeah," she said, but she wasn't, and he wasn't, but before he could let those thoughts become words, he turned them both, and they Apparated away.