Escape ↣ Harmione

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter 37 - Aftermath

He woke later after Helen and Hermione had left, but before they returned. The healer walked in, introduced themselves and proceeded to cast diagnostic charms over him.

He stayed quiet and still while it happened, waiting until they had finished before venturing to ask. "What's the verdict?"

"Well, Mr Black you had a lucky escape this time. Your bones are back, and in good shape, your organs are all now fixed. The head injury was nothing to sniff at, but it's also healed. I'd say given that you are awake and coherent you can return home today."

"Oh, right. Thanks"

"Something the matter?"

"No, err no. I just, I wasn't expecting it to be that simple. I mean, I got hit by a truck, and I feel, well, fine. Great even."

The healer smiled tightly, nodded and left the room. Harry tipped his head up to look at the ceiling, taking stock before Hermione, Helen and John returned. He was in for a world of hurt from Hermione, he knew that he'd frightened her terribly, clearly more than he had previously. Maybe it was because she knew he had actually died or maybe it was because he had acted on impulse rather than being forced to act. Or maybe it was because their life here had been so trouble free it was easy to forget that near-death escapades had been the norm for him.

He didn't regret it, maybe, if he'd woken up in a muggle hospital attached to drips and plastered from hip to toe he would have. But the magical healing had left him unconscious for a whole day, and he felt pretty good. Well assuming the kid made it, but he was pretty sure he would have.

Harry lay there and thought about what had happened to him. As dying went, it was pretty easy. Blackout, and wake up in the grey place.

The officious person who had reminded him of Percy hadn't really told him anything, which was frustrating, but he hadn't actually asked any questions. Now he had time to think about it, he had a list a mile long of questions he wished he'd asked. Starting with, 'Where are the loved ones that are meant to meet you?' and moving swiftly to, 'Explain what the bloody hell you mean I had a soul riding shotgun?' Before he got really deep into his groove of questions he probably should have asked, the door cracked open, and John poked his head around it.

"You're awake?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. John came into the room and closed the door, leaning on it.

"Good stuff. The girls will be here soon, so before they get here, let me take this moment to tell you if you ever, ever, do anything so sublimely fucking stupid again, I will make you regret it."

Harry opened and closed his mouth soundlessly.

John stared him down. "You put us through hell Harry. Even here in a magical hospital, where they were telling us within the hour, you'd be alright. You died in that ambulance. My little girl found out that the man she loved died, and that isn't something I ever want to see her go through again. Helen and I see you as part of our family, you're going to be officially eventually, and you died, Harry." John crossed the room and dropped onto the bottom of the bed, pulling a hand down his face.

He looked his age, Harry thought and felt the swamp of guilt wash over him. "The kid," Harry said.

"Yeah," John agreed. "I know, and maybe I would have done the same thing. But for fuck's sake Harry, next time pull your wand and blow the Statute of Secrecy to the moon. Don't throw yourself in front of bloody traffic."

"I'm sorry," Harry offered quietly.

"It's alright," John said. "You frightened us all badly, but you're alright. Your alive and well, and very likely going to spend the next week or so under the eagle eye of Helen, Hermione and Dobby. I'm not going to save you either. You deserve it."