Thanks to all who reviewed, and sorry about the delays we've been having with updates...we'll probably get a couple more up this week since spring break has officially started. :)
Muddled Monday – "A big idea can go a long way, but a little idea always tends to go a little farther."
Ginny Weasley hated whispers. Her brothers did it all the time, and her parents too, always excluding her because she was Baby Ginny Who Didn't Know Anything. Fred and George lightened up a bit when they discussed their new products, asking her opinion on various pranks and practical jokes, but that was about as much as she heard. Even Ron did it, the little prat. He and Harry and Hermione were always in the common room, heads together and whispering, whispering.
And now, all around her in the vast Great Hall, there were whispers floating through the air, drifting about her with maddening audibility.
"Did you hear what happened last night?"
"Harry Potter, sweet Merlin – "
" – almost died, they said – "
" – really powerful magic – "
" – huge explosion, did you feel it? Like an earthquake – "
She sat down beside Hermione and Ron, with Dean, Seamus, and Neville sitting across from them. They stared dully at the plates of food before them, ignoring the curious looks sent their way. The only reason they'd even left the Hospital Wing was because Madam Pomfrey had forced them to – "He won't get any better with the six of you sitting there gawping at him," she'd said, clucking her tongue as she shooed them out.
She'd known something had gone wrong as soon as Harry's spell failed to connect with the Horcrux. Hermione cried out as he fell to his knees, and the two of them tried to reach him, only to find that a magical wall had sprung up between them. She could only watch in horror as he screamed and writhed, the orange and blue lights flashing and twisting against each other. The sounds woke Dean, Seamus, and Neville, who all leapt up from their beds in shock.
And then there was the explosion, the blast of white light that engulfed Harry and the Horcrux. It blinded all of them, and knocked them off their feet.
The barrier had broken as soon as Harry collapsed. She had reached him first, only to find that he was unconscious. There was no sign of the Horcrux; not even a scorch mark on the floor. They took him straight to the Hospital Wing; Hermione cursed the Anti-Apparition Jinxes on the school as they dashed through the corridors.
Madam Pomfrey met them with an irritated look, although it soon turned to astonishment. She ushered them all inside, set Harry on the nearest bed and proceeded to look him over. Hermione bit her lip as she looked at Ginny and Ron; she was apparently unsure as to whether she should reveal what had happened with Dean, Seamus, and Neville still standing there. But Madam Pomfrey needed to know if she was going to find out if Harry would be okay; Hermione let out a shaky breath and began talking.
Professor McGonagall arrived shortly after, her face whiter than a sheet. Madam Pomfrey retold the events as she bustled around; she assured them all that he would be fine with a couple days' rest, that he was just unconscious after the shock and the force of the magic. Ginny noticed her hands shaking as she measured out a glass of green potion.
After she had forced the liquid down Harry's throat, Ginny and Ron pulled up a chair next to the bed and watched him anxiously as Professor McGonagall interrogated Hermione about the details. Despite Madam Pomfrey's orders, Dean, Seamus, and Neville insisted on staying. The three of them perched on the next bed over and looked at Harry in awe.
The boys soon fell asleep, as did Ron; Madam Pomfrey moved them to the other vacant beds and promptly disappeared into her office with Professor McGonagall. Ginny remained in her chair, holding Harry's cold hand tightly in hers. Hermione sat beside her, nervously wringing her hands as she looked down at Harry in despair.
"I should've known," she said quietly, misery evident in her voice. "I should've known something like this would happen. We shouldn't have told him, not before telling Professor McGonagall, or – or Lupin…"
Ginny offered no response. She'd feared something like this would happen, too, but what difference would it have made if they'd told somebody? Nobody else could have done it; Harry wouldn't have let them, first of all, and secondly, they would've probably died trying.
She reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. His face was cold to the touch, too, not just his hands. She'd been slightly mollified at Madam Pomfrey's pronouncement that he'd be better in a few days, but to see him shivering so and hearing his shallow, ragged breathing was unnerving. Nothing would loosen the tension wound up in her body; she wouldn't be able to relax until he opened his eyes again.
She and Hermione had stayed up all night, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's pleading and ordering and coaxing them to rest. Harry showed no signs of improvement even past dawn, by which time he'd had two more doses of the green potion.
It was at this point that Madam Pomfrey adamantly refused to allow them to stay; she was about to threaten to take away House points if they didn't go down to breakfast. Ginny left only after making the nurse promise that they would be alerted the very instant he woke up.
"We should eat something," Hermione said uncertainly.
Ron looked up at her blankly. He had absently spooned some potatoes onto his plate but hadn't touched them. Seamus was picking at a piece of bread while Dean held a glass of juice in his hand. Neville and Ginny hadn't moved at all.
"I'm not hungry," Ginny said quietly.
"Me neither," Neville mumbled. His round face was pale.
Hermione looked around at the others, all of them unwilling to eat, and sighed. "Neither am I," she said heavily. After a moment, she added, "We better get to class, then."
They stood up and left the Great Hall, each one feeling the weight of dozens of inquisitive gazes on their backs. Not a word was spoken as they trudged up to Gryffindor Tower to get their things. Ginny parted ways with them as they climbed back out of the portrait hole; they had Potions while she had Transfiguration.
She sat in the back of the classroom, only half-hearing what Professor Blackthorn was saying about cross-species switches. Her fellow classmates looked at her sympathetically from time to time, and although she was sure Professor Blackthorn knew she wasn't listening, he didn't mention it.
By her third class, Charms, her exhaustion had caught up with her. Her partner for the Aguamenti Charm, a Hufflepuff named Brianna Decker, kept having to poke her every time Professor Flitwick passed by so she didn't nod off.
"Sorry," she muttered to Brianna after she found herself being jerked awake for the sixth time.
"It's all right," Brianna said kindly. She was a slim, quiet girl, more content to read and write than participate in any physical activities. Charms was one of her best subjects, and she had no problem making water spout from the tip of her wand.
Ginny stood up as soon as the class was dismissed and hurried out of the room, heading toward the girls' bathroom. She briefly entertained the notion of skipping Herbology, but she knew her absence would be immediately detected.
Just as she entered one of the stalls and locked the door, a group of girls walked into the bathroom, conversing loudly. Ginny instinctively clamped her mouth shut, listening intently to their discussion – which was about Harry.
"We can get him a card," one of them said. "I have a really pretty one I was going to give to Peter, but – "
"Ew, Peter? He's so weird."
"Whatever. Anyway, did you hear what Kayla McKinney was saying? About what happened?"
"You're not honestly going to believe what Kayla McKinney says, are you?"
"Well no, obviously! I just overheard her telling someone that Harry – "
Ginny couldn't hear the rest of the sentence, as the speaker had dropped their voice to a low whisper. It didn't help that someone had turned the faucet on. She resisted the urge to snort – these girls couldn't be sixth or seventh years (she'd have recognized their voices) and yet here they were, apparently on a first-name basis with him. Harry didn't even know any younger girls; except maybe Romilda Vane, whose would have been immediately identifiable to Ginny.
"Love potion?" one of them exclaimed. The water was turned off. "What love potion? For who?"
"You know who," another one said exasperatedly. "There's only one boy worth giving a love potion to in Hogwarts!"
"Not Peter, I reckon," a third sniggered.
"Harry Potter?" someone suggested.
"Duh!" Ginny could almost see the eye-rolling that would have accompanied the exclamation.
"You can't do that, he's going out with Ginny Weasley!"
Damn right, Ginny thought fiercely. She thought about storming out right then, brandishing her wand at them and seeing their terrified looks – it would definitely be a balm for the tension that made her shoulders ache.
"He broke up with her last – "
"He did, but only because of You-Know-Who, and then they got back together before start of term."
"Well, Kayla says he's only going out with her because she spends half her time flat on her back."
Ginny barely kept the snarl of fury locked up inside; her fingers gripped her wand so tightly her arm shook. How dare those titchy little toerags even think –
"Oh my God, Harry would not do that!" one of them exclaimed in a thoroughly shocked voice.
"There you go, believing Kayla McKinney again."
"I didn't say I believed that – "
"Besides, Owen's sister, Demelza? She says they really love each other – haven't you seen the way Harry looks at her? And if I were you, I wouldn't get in Ginny Weasley's way – I've heard she's got a nasty Bag-Bogey Hex."
You bet your arse, Ginny snarled inwardly as she heard their voices recede. She waited for a minute or two after they had left, silently cursing girls and love potions and wishing there was something handy to punch. She went to Herbology in the worst mood she'd been in all year.
Colin Creevey kept one eye on Ginny Weasley as they packed up their cauldrons, the other eye on Professor Slughorn. As soon as he opened his mouth to dismiss their class, Colin shot out of his seat and caught Ginny by the elbow before she could disappear, as she'd been doing after every class today.
"Hey, Ginny," he said as brightly as he could. He'd never seen cheerful, passionate Ginny look so miserable before in his life. He was none too happy himself; he'd snuck by the Hospital Wing before Charms to see Harry, only to find him pale and motionless.
She looked up at him, her eyes vague and distant as the two of them pushed their way through the crowded corridors. "Oh, hey Colin."
"You, er...you all right?"
She shrugged. "I guess."
"Still nothing on Harry?"
She shook her head, lips stretched thin as she stared straight ahead. Colin thought she looked pretty done in.
"Ginny?" he began hesitantly. "You're not, uh, doing anything now, are you?" They had a free period now, and no classes after dinner either. He hoped she wouldn't use homework as an excuse to retreat into her dormitory; it would be much easier if she just followed him.
She furrowed her brows. "Not really," she said. "But – "
"Excellent," Colin said happily, grinning at her. "Come on, I've got something to show you."
He grabbed her hand and led her down several corridors and up a flight of stairs, despite her protests. She was thoroughly cross with him by the time they reached the seventh floor, and she was about to make good her threat to hex him into a purple jelly when he announced, "We're here."
Ginny looked up and down the empty corridor, face stony. The door had appeared in the wall by the time she realized where they were, and Colin dragged her into the Room of Requirement.
He grinned with satisfaction when he saw all the people inside; Demelza, Dennis, and Luna had managed to alert more people than he'd expected. His smile only grew wider as he saw Ginny's jaw drop.
"Colin," she said slowly. The conversations had stopped and everyone was looking at them. "What's going on?"
"This, Ginny," Colin said, unable to keep the excitement from seeping into his voice, "is everyone who wants to help Harry." He beamed at the gathering of students, ranging from sixth years to second years.
"We're Harry's fan club!" a second-year Ravenclaw piped up.
There was a strange expression on Ginny's face.
Colin went on hurriedly, "Everyone knows about Harry, right? Well we just found some people who said they'd like to help him, in any way they can. It started with me and Dennis and Luna, and then...well, it just grew, sort of."
"There's loads of people," Dennis said, from where he was standing in the back with a group of his friends. "We all want to help, but Colin thought it'd be better if you knew about it, too."
"How...how do you know?" Ginny asked faintly. Colin saw her eyes fall on Luna, who smiled and gave her a little wave.
"Know what?"
"About Harry. About...everything."
"C'mon, Ginny," Demelza Robins said, jumping off the table she'd been sitting on and striding over to put her arm around Ginny's shoulder. "You know secrets don't last long around here."
Ginny was still looking a bit dazed, so Colin told the group to go around and tell her their names. Most of them were Gryffindors, although a good number consisted of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. There were even three second-years from Slytherin, who tried not to shrink away from the baffled look Ginny gave them.
Colin knew nearly all of them by now; although some were sixth years and fifth years, the others were mostly Dennis' friends and Colin was having difficulty remembering all their names. He was sure Ginny recognized several faces – Demelza, Luna, and Brianna Decker, obviously, and Ritchie Coote, Jimmy Peakes, and Jack Sloper from Quidditch. Unfortunately, Romilda Vane had come too – she was twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she looked Ginny up and down. But her aside, Colin knew that even if Ginny didn't know them, they definitely knew her – she was probably the most popular girl in their year.
When the introductions had been finished, Ginny turned back to Colin, her eyes narrowed. He resisted the urge to step back as he gave her his most innocent smile.
"How much do you know?" she demanded. "And how did you find out?"
Colin held his hands up, palms out, to show that he didn't want to aggravate her. "Most of it," he said apologetically. "We know what happened last night – that Harry tried to destroy a Horcrux."
"A bit of You-Know-Who's soul," someone whispered, prompting some nervous coughs.
"And we know there's more of them out there," Demelza said. "We figured we could help him find them."
"But even if we can't, we'll at least help fight You-Know-Who," Colin added, and there were some cheers from the students. "We've already met a couple times to practice."
Ginny was frowning. "But why are you doing this?" she questioned. "I mean, I'm worried about him, too, but…some of you barely even know him."
"Because he's Harry Potter," said a fourth-year girl, in a tone that clearly said she thought Ginny was stupid for asking such a question.
"Because he's the Boy Who Lived," a fifth-year boy said defiantly.
"Because he can win," Dennis declared.
"Because we're Harry's fan club!" several third-year girls said together.
Colin cringed. "We can't call it a fan club," he said, shaking his head. "Harry doesn't like that sort of thing. We can fight and stuff later, but what he needs, especially after what happened last night, is support. We can give it to him."
"This is kind of like that group he started two years ago, isn't it?" Jack Sloper asked, knitting his eyebrows. "The Defense Association?"
"No, it was Dumbledore's Army," Dennis supplied.
"Well, that was for Dumbledore," Colin said, seizing the idea that had popped into his head. "This is for Harry, right? We'll be Potter's Army." He looked to Ginny hopefully; they didn't necessarily need her approval or anything, but Colin had big hopes for this group, and if they wanted to be anywhere near competent, they'd need Ginny's help – having her support would also bring in Harry and other seventh years, most of whom Colin didn't know.
"Potter's Army," she repeated. "Colin, are you – are you all mental? This isn't some game. This is bloody real! Harry's been unconscious in the Hospital Wing for more than twelve bloody hours because he tried to destroy a Horcrux. He could have died, Colin."
He heard her voice break, saw her clench her fists in an attempt to keep the tears from slipping out. There were several murmurs of sympathy and distress, which Ginny glared into silence.
"We know, Ginny," Colin said, desperately trying to think of a way to comfort her. "But that's why we're here. We figured he's got loads of, you know, other things to deal with on top of You-Know-Who, and if we could take care of those other things it would leave him free to focus on what he's got to do."
He watched her anxiously, but she had turned her head away.
"I – I don't know," she mumbled. "I've got to think about it." With that, she hurriedly left the room.
"Potter's Army, Hermione," Ginny groaned to Hermione later that evening. They were sitting in the common room before the fire, reviewing the Aguamenti Charm Ginny had slept through. Ron had gone up early to his dormitory with Dean, Seamus, and Neville after checking that there hadn't been any messages from Madam Pomfrey.
"I don't see what you're complaining about," Hermione said, tapping the book on her lap with her wand. "It's a perfectly good idea."
Ginny shook her head. "But it's – "
"You didn't have a problem with the DA, did you? This is the same," Hermione pointed out. "They're just calling it something different this time, because their focus has shifted."
"But what can they really do?" Ginny asked. "They'd only get in the way. Some of them were second years. We can't just go teaching them Stunning Charms and Blasting Curses!"
"Why not?" Hermione countered. "Harry defeated a basilisk when he was a second year."
"He's Harry," Ginny said exasperatedly. "He's – "
"He's what?" Hermione interrupted, eyebrow raised. "You know how we're always going around complaining that people are making such a big deal out of him being the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen, whatever? Well, what you just said is hypocrisy, Ginny Weasley. What's the point in telling everyone else that he's normal when you don't believe it yourself?"
"He just – I don't know," Ginny said in frustration. "He's different, all right? Everyone knows it. He's been doing things that wouldn't have been expected from anyone his age. We can't go around thinking just anybody can do stuff like that."
"But the thing is, Ginny," Hermione said firmly, "is that they really want to do this. No one's forcing them, no one's pushing them – all of them chose to start this on their own. If they didn't want to try, to work hard, to really help, then why would they join? Most of them aren't as stupid as we think they are. Some of them have defied their parents and taken the risk of coming back to Hogwarts – doesn't that say something? Besides, this whole thing helps with House unity. You said yourself that there were even Slytherins."
Ginny grumbled at the fire. She hated arguing with Hermione.
"Tell Colin you like the idea," Hermione said. "And tell them there'll be some seventh years coming next time."
"You're going?" Ginny asked incredulously.
"Of course I am," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Who else is going to teach them? I'm sure Ernie would like to go, too, and probably Justin, Hannah, Anthony…"
Ginny listened resignedly as Hermione rattled off more names. Next time, she'd have to inform someone less persuasive.
The first thing he noticed was the pain.
It ate away at everything, all his bones and joints and muscles, burning up whatever was flammable and stabbing at what was left. He felt heavy and unbearably cold, as if he was sandwiched between two giant blocks of ice. A low, angry buzzing filled his head, sometimes escalating into whining screams that would shatter his thoughts and splinter his skull. His feelings and thoughts were as slippery as water on oil, and the way they careened around his head was as distracting as it was painful.
He woke from time to time, though it was more of a sort of drifting than real consciousness. The dull, constant pain was like a haze that he had to strain to see through, allowing him no more than occasional glimpses and flittering words.
He'd known it would hurt; he'd known it would be complicated. But the locket had been so different from Riddle's diary that it'd caught him off guard. He hadn't expected the spell to interact with the Horcrux like that – he hadn't expected any resistance at all. But of course, destroying it with a spell wouldn't be the same as destroying it with basilisk venom.
As with the teenager-Riddle in the diary, there had been a form of Voldemort within Slytherin's locket, too. He strongly suspected that it was this presence, this force, that had attempted to repel his Blasting Curse. Voldemort had spoken to him, his voice ringing clearly through the excruciating miasma of coldness and pain and screaming – You dare confront me, worthless scum? You would dare to face Lord Voldemort? I'm afraid it won't be so easy...
He didn't think this bit of Voldemort – which had seemed older than the Riddle in the diary, but still relatively young – had known specifically who it was being attacked by, and that the explosive assault was an automatic reaction - a sort of recorded response.
And then it had been a battle of wills, a war of souls. He wasn't sure, but he reckoned Voldemort had tried to leave the Horcrux and enter his body – obviously his natural, defensive resistance had reacted immediately, but even one-seventh of Voldemort's soul wasn't to be taken lightly. There was the laughter – the familiar cold, high-pitched cackle that echoed over everything else – that mocked him while gruesome images and chilling threats reverberated in his mind, ripping him apart, piercing his soul.
And yet there had been light beyond the pain. The flaring light of his spell, held together only by his will, blazing against the Horcrux, gaining ground inch by painstaking inch. There was the other voice, too – the soft, soothing voice whose whispers were like a balm on his wounds.
The final flash of light and the explosion told him the Horcrux had been destroyed, and he felt Voldemort's presence fading. But before it disappeared completely, it howled one last time and set fire to his scar – pain unlike anything he'd ever imagined burst inside his skull, and he knew no more.
How long he'd been in the Hospital Wing, he had no idea. Madam Pomfrey forced a vile liquid down his throat every once in a while that numbed his senses, filling his brain with a light fog. He was restless inside, he wanted to get up and walk and speak and maybe snog Ginny, but everything was too heavy. His eyelids remained shut over his eyes like stones; his arms and legs were motionless boulders.
And so he lay there, cursing time as it passed, waiting impatiently as he felt the haze lift bit by bit. Things were clearer; he could sometimes hear Madam Pomfrey muttering to herself as she bustled around the Hospital Wing, pouring out flasks of potions and organizing bundles of herbs – other times he could make out an enormous stack of cards and sweets at the foot of his bed. He could stay conscious for longer periods of time, the high-pitched laughter dying away to be replaced by the sounds of footsteps and voices of students passing by in the corridor – until at last, he felt the weight withdraw, leaving his body lighter than a feather.
His eyelids fluttered, remembering what it was like to stay open. When he finally found the resolve to keep them open, his eyes instantly filled with water and he had shut them quickly, feeling the cold tears dripping down the side of his face.
It took him several tries to remain open-eyed, and even then it was at a squint. There was no light; it took him a moment to realize that night had fallen. Blurrily, he peered up at the spotless white ceiling, gently flexing his fingers and moving his toes under the sheets. They were extremely stiff, but there was no pain aside from that.
After taking several minutes to loosen his limbs, he tried pushing himself up to a sitting position. He grimaced as he heard his back crack, but he managed to get up on his elbows. He reached for his glasses, which had been set on the bedside table, and shoved them off. Glancing around the room, he saw that he was alone; the other beds were clean and unruffled. Madam Pomfrey wasn't in sight – he presumed she was sleeping.
Taking a deep breath, he decided to attempt standing up. Gingerly he began shifting his legs under the sheets, moving them toward the edge of the bed. He had been dressed in the standard white Hospital Wing garb, and thick socks had been slipped on his feet. Even so, the floor was chilly when he set foot on it.
He found, much to his dismay, that even sitting there on the bed for a minute tired him. Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth and inched forward, his hand against the wall for support. He rose unsteadily from the bed, genuinely shocked at how hard this one simple movement was. His legs were trembling by the time he got to his feet, and before he could sit back down his knees buckled and he crashed painfully to the floor.
The bedpan that had been sitting on the bedside table clattered to the floor; he winced as the clanging echoed in the room. He was fairly sure he'd bruised his hip, and was wondering how in bloody hell he'd get himself back up when the sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears.
"Mr. Potter!" he heard Madam Pomfrey cry. She strode into view a moment later, a mixture of astonishment, relief, and exasperation evident on her face.
"What on earth were you thinking?" she scolded as she lifted him bodily from the floor and set him back on his bed like a four-year-old.
Feeling sheepish, he opened his mouth to respond – and nothing came out. He shook his head in bewilderment – the words were there but he couldn't put any sound to them.
She clucked her tongue, tugging the sheets back up to his chin. "Still recovering, then," she said. "Get some more sleep, and we'll see how well you feel in the morning." She turned to retrieve another potion from her stores, and he found that he was exhausted.
Without leaving time for protest, she poured a steaming purple potion down his throat that immediately made him drowsy; as he felt his eyes slide shut, he saw her hovering over him, a smile on her face.
"It's good to have you back, Mr. Potter," he heard her say before sleep overtook him once more.
-----
He awoke to the sunlight streaming onto his face. Madam Pomfrey was already up and about, busy sorting out piles of ingredients on a table. She abandoned this as soon as she saw that his eyes were open.
"How do you feel?" she asked briskly. "Can you speak?"
He blinked groggily, trying to focus on her. He still felt stiff, and his hip was sore from his fall last night, but otherwise he felt relatively good.
"Absolutely corking," he rasped. The sound of his own voice took him aback – it was low and hoarse, like two pieces of sandpaper grating against each other.
Madam Pomfrey seemed satisfied. "Excellent," she said. "Do you feel pain anywhere?"
He cautiously shook his head. "How long…?"
She sighed. "I – "
"Harry!"
She seemed as startled by the cry as he did; they both turned to see a crowd trying to barge into the Hospital Wing. At its head were Hermione and Ron. There was a tic in Madam Pomfrey's jaw as she nearly flew at the mob, eyes popping with fury.
"Out, all of you!" she screeched, flapping her arms. "What kind of behavior is this? This is the Hospital Wing! You should all be in class! Out! Out!"
She managed to scare most of the crowd away, but Ron and Hermione ducked under her flailing arms and hurried over to his bed.
Hermione reached him first, as always. "Oh, Harry!" she cried, her relief manifesting itself as shining tears in her eyes as she flung her arms around his neck. He winced but hugged her back.
"Miss Granger, what are you doing?"
Hermione hastily let go of him as Madam Pomfrey returned, a bit red-faced from her exertions. She crossed her arms as she surveyed the three students before her; Hermione guiltily looked down at the ground and Ron shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet.
"We – we heard that Harry woke up," Hermione said timidly. "We just wanted to see him."
Madam Pomfrey frowned at them, clearly indicating that she didn't approve of it much, but said, "All right. But five minutes only!" She disappeared into her office, muttering under her breath.
"So…how're you feeling, mate?" Ron asked, sounding uncomfortable.
Harry shrugged. "Bloody bored. You?"
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione said as she sat down beside him – it seemed that his name was all she could say. "We – we were so worried."
"She was going right mad, she was," Ron said, grinning. "Missed a whole day's notes, she was going so spare."
"You were out for four days," Hermione said exasperatedly.
"That's not bad for me," Harry said, grinning back.
Hermione shook her head. "The whole school's buzzing about it," she said, nodding at the colossal mountain of gifts and cards at the foot of his bed. "Seems everybody's on a first-name basis with you now, too."
"Especially the girls," Ron said, raising his eyebrows.
Harry snorted.
"Ginny says she's sorry she couldn't come," Hermione went on. "Professor Flitwick wouldn't let her miss class. She'll – "
"Time's up, out!" Madam Pomfrey announced, reemerging from her office. "Get to class, both of you!"
"But – "
"You can come back later," Madam Pomfrey said obstinately. "Mr. Potter requires rest, not the latest gossip." She herded them out and shut the door behind them, despite their objections. Grumbling something about "disturbing the peace", she administered another dose of potion to Harry before returning to her office.
-----
He wolfed down a bowl of cereal for breakfast and read through the Daily Prophet for most of the morning. Various people dropped by to say hello and see how he was doing – just as Hermione had hinted, they were mostly girls. He had just started to sift through his pile of get-well presents when Madam Pomfrey returned from a brief excursion.
"You have a visitor," she informed him in a disapproving tone. He keenly turned his head toward the door – it was lunchtime, and he could think of only one person that would think to visit him now.
Ginny slowly entered the room, seemingly unaware of Madam Pomfrey's scrutiny as her gaze locked on Harry's. The nurse harrumphed loudly but retreated once more, leaving the two of them alone.
Ginny didn't utter a word as she approached him, her eyes fierce and blazing. Harry reckoned he'd never be able to see enough of her even if he looked at her for the rest of his life. When she finally reached him, she sat down on the bed and leaned forward.
"You bloody prat," she whispered, before kissing him soundly.
"I'm doing very well, thank you," he said dryly when she pulled away.
"You deserved it," she growled, her face only inches from his.
"Did I?" Harry said in mock surprise. "I better go and find the rest of those Horcruxes, then. Twice as many if I'm out for over a week – what d'you say?"
Her brown eyes crackled. "If you ever – ever – do something like this to me again, I'll knock you out."
"Snog me senseless? I hadn't thought of that – excellent idea, though," he said, grinning widely.
She smiled, but her eyes were somber. "Honestly, Harry. You have no idea how scared I was," she said quietly. "Seeing you here, thinking you might – you might be gone for good."
He heard the catch in her voice and reached out to embrace her.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "I didn't – there was no other way. I mean, I hadn't expected it to be this bad either, but at least…" He took a deep breath. "At least now, I'll be ready."
She nodded into his shoulder before pulling back. "It's – it's really gone, then? It's destroyed?"
He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. "Yeah. Three down, three to go."
She shuddered as she slid off the bed. "Three more… Well, I've got to get back to lunch," she said apologetically. "I'll try to come back later with Ron and Hermione."
He nodded, smiling at her. "See you."
"Oh – this is for you." She reached into her pocket and pulled something out, handing it to him with a diffident smile. It was a simple white card – a relief after the other large, lavish ones he'd received, signed at the bottom with names of girls he was sure he'd never heard of.
"For me?" he asked, acting surprised.
"For you," she replied with a grin, leaning forward to kiss him again. "And no – it doesn't sing."
Up Next: Draco learns a harsh lesson, and while Voldemort was happy enough to ravage his own soul, he doesn't quite appreciate that others are destroying it.
Note: Little Owen up there would be another one of our creations...obviously we don't know if Demelza has a brother. ;)
And now that you've read, please review - especially if you haven't before. We like to hear your splendiferous comments.
