Survivors - 18

All four of the Healers gasped when she said 'Voldemort'. One of them even took a step back, raising her hands protectively in front of her face. Ginny was livid.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, he's dead!" she snapped. She furiously spun away from the Healers, instead turning her attention back to Harry. "Listen to me, Harry. It's okay. They're here to help you."

His eyes moved around the room wildly. She kept a grip on his good hand, while using her other to stroke the side of his face. She whispered calm, soothing words, and he began to regain control of his breathing.

He looked up at her – desperate and bewildered – and her throat tightened, wanting this to end for him. She knew her presence was calming him, but he still hadn't shown any sign that he actually recognized her. She desperately wanted to ask him if he knew her, but understood that would sound shallow and vain in front of all the other possible health concerns he was facing. She couldn't help the feeling, however.

She wanted him back – and she wanted him with her.

Harry calmed enough to allow the Healers to administer their potions. He took them meekly, although never letting go of Ginny's hand. The Healers cleared out of the room, several of them lingering unnecessarily. They said that the Healing potions would finally begin to work now that he was conscious, but he was obviously exhausted.

His eyes began to droop heavily. She watched, amused, as he attempted to fight the sleep that was trying to claim him.

"Shut your eyes and rest, Harry," she whispered, brushing her lips across his damp forehead. "I'll be here when you wake."

She'd brought her bear, Snot, from home. Originally, she'd hoped it might bring Harry some comfort, but she'd found herself using it while she waited for him to wake. She rested the bear on the pillow beside him, pleading with her old faithful friend to watch over him.

Harry turned his head toward her and quickly drifted off to sleep with his face resting on Snot. Ginny continued to stroke his hair, feeling lighter than she had in days. She still had the nagging worry about his mind, but there was one thing that brightened her thoughts.

Every other year of Harry's schooling, they'd sent him home battered to recover under the questionable care of the Dursleys. This year – this time – it would be different. Harry would come home to the Burrow, and all of them would see to it that he finally got all the positive attention he so deserved.

A low, distant rumbling intruded upon the quiet, dragging Harry back to consciousness. The noise sounded far away, but it was persistent, piercing the warmth and darkness that surrounded him. His mind struggled to hold onto the last vestiges of sleep, but a giant boom cracked overhead, causing his eyes to fly open with a start, his breathing fast and irregular.

The room where he lay was dim, lit only by a single candle hanging on the wall in a far corner. Without his glasses, all he could see was a fuzzy blur of light, anyway. The heavy curtains next to his bed hid the night sky, although he could hear a heavy downpour of rain splattering against the window.

He blinked, feeling very disoriented. He could tell he was in hospital and had a vague memory of Ginny being with him, but he couldn't grasp the details. Distorted memories of his parents and others that he'd lost filled his mind, confusing him. He couldn't focus his thoughts, however, because his body's various aches and pains began demanding his attention.