After The War : ** Shadows and Light ** :harrypotterxreader:

**Chapter 5: The Waiting Game**

From dreams of peace to waking fright,

The shadows creep, eclipsing light.

But strength is found in bonds so true,

Together, brave, you'll see it through.

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*"When shadows loom, let friendship be your shield; united we fight, and never yield."*

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The soft hum of candlelight flickered across the hospital wing as Harry sat at your bedside, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers clasped tightly together. The rhythmic sound of your breathing was the only thing keeping him grounded. Everything else felt like a blur—his mind a jumble of worry, guilt, and something deeper, something he still didn't want to name.

It had been hours since Madam Pomfrey had treated your injuries, and though she had reassured him multiple times that you would be fine, Harry couldn't shake the tight knot in his chest. Seeing you like this—pale, unconscious, so still—it reminded him too much of the battles he'd fought in the past, of people he'd lost, people he couldn't save.

But this was different. This was *you*.

The shadows of the attack still lingered in Harry's mind. He kept replaying it over and over—the moment the dark shapes closed in, the helplessness he felt as he watched you collapse. He should have been faster, more aware. If he had been, you wouldn't be lying here, hurt because of him. The guilt gnawed at him, an ever-present weight on his chest.

"She'll be alright, Potter. You need to rest."

Madam Pomfrey's words echoed in his head, but Harry couldn't bring himself to leave. He hadn't left your side since she had allowed him back in the hospital wing earlier in the day. Ron and Hermione had come by to check on you, but they had quickly sensed that Harry needed space, giving him small nods of reassurance before quietly slipping out.

Now it was just him. Just him and the steady rise and fall of your chest.

Harry leaned back in the chair, eyes scanning your face for any sign of movement. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there—time seemed irrelevant when you were lying there so still. He kept expecting you to wake up, to give him one of your reassuring smiles, to tell him that everything was fine, that you were stronger than you looked.

But the longer you stayed unconscious, the more Harry's mind filled with the terrifying thought of what could have happened. What if Madam Pomfrey hadn't been able to stop the bleeding? What if the shadows had struck harder? What if—

He stopped himself. No. He couldn't go down that path. You were going to be okay. You had to be.

Harry stood up suddenly, unable to sit still any longer. He paced the length of the hospital wing, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet. His thoughts raced, jumping from one thing to the next. The shadows, the relic, the mysterious disturbances—they all seemed connected, but none of it mattered as much as the fact that you had been caught in the middle of it.

He needed answers. He needed to figure out what was going on, to make sure you—and everyone else at Hogwarts—was safe. But more than that, he needed to know why this was affecting him so much more than anything else had in the past.

"Get a grip, Potter," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. This wasn't the time to be falling apart. He had faced far worse—battles, dark wizards, near-death experiences—and yet here he was, barely holding it together because of one injury.

But then again, it wasn't just any injury. And it wasn't just any person lying there.

Harry stopped pacing, turning to look at you again. His gaze softened, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on him. He could admit it to himself now—he cared about you more than he'd ever cared about anyone. But what did that mean? What did *he* mean to you?

As if sensing his turmoil, you stirred ever so slightly, your eyelids fluttering. Harry's heart leapt into his throat as he rushed back to your side, gripping the edge of your bed.

"Y/N?" he whispered, his voice laced with hope and worry.

Your eyes blinked open slowly, groggy and disoriented. For a moment, you looked confused, your gaze flicking around the room before finally settling on Harry. A faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

"Harry..." your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it was the sweetest sound Harry had heard all day.

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, relief flooding his system like a tidal wave. "You're awake," he said, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his emotions.

You nodded weakly, trying to sit up, but a sharp pain crossed your face, and you winced. Harry was immediately at your side, gently helping you lie back down. "Don't move. You're still hurt."

You gave him a tired smile, though your eyes still held that spark of defiance he had come to admire. "I'm fine, Harry. It's not as bad as it looks.

Harry shook his head, his jaw clenched. "You're *not* fine. You were unconscious for hours. You... you nearly..."

He couldn't finish the sentence. The words felt too real, too painful.

Your expression softened, and you reached out, your hand resting lightly on his arm. "But I'm here now. You don't have to worry."

Harry swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the spot where your hand touched him. Worry? That didn't even begin to cover what he had been feeling. He didn't know how to explain the whirlwind of emotions he'd gone through—fear, guilt, relief, and that nagging, ever-present feeling he still couldn't bring himself to say out loud.

"I should've protected you better," Harry muttered, his voice low. "I should've seen it coming."

You shook your head, your grip tightening slightly on his arm. "Harry, you couldn't have known. None of us did. And if you hadn't been there, it could've been a lot worse."

"But—"

"No 'buts.' You saved me," you said firmly, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that made his chest tighten. "You did everything you could. Don't blame yourself for something that wasn't your fault."

Harry wanted to argue, but the sincerity in your voice made it difficult. He nodded stiffly, though the guilt still gnawed at him.

"Rest now," he said after a long pause, his voice gentler this time. "You need to heal."

You gave him another soft smile, your eyelids already growing heavy again. "Only if you promise to get some rest too. You look terrible."

Despite the situation, Harry couldn't help but chuckle, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, well, someone's got to keep an eye on you."

Your smile widened just a bit, but before you could respond, sleep began to take over, your eyes closing once more as exhaustion claimed you.

Harry stayed by your side, his hand resting on the bed beside yours. He watched you breathe, his heart finally starting to calm down as he reassured himself that you were safe, for now.

But as the night crept on, Harry's thoughts wandered back to the relic, the shadows, and the growing sense that something dangerous was still lurking in the dark corners of the castle. Whatever had attacked you wasn't finished. And Harry knew that until they found whoever—or whatever—was behind it, none of them would be truly safe.

But for tonight, Harry allowed himself this small moment of peace. You were alive. That was enough.

For now.

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