Walking in Light and Shade - Moment by Moment Book #2 (Harry Potter, Drarry)

Shades of Grey and Light

**AUTHOR'S NOTE - THIS IS BOOK 2 IN THE MOMENT BY MOMENT SERIAL, IF YOU HAVE NOT READ BOOK 1 - INTO DARKNESS (https://www.wattpad.com/story/191777419) - THEN YOU WILL WANT TO GO DO THAT BEFORE STARTING ON THIS STORY**

He was warm and pain-free, and Harry was vaguely aware of people close by from time to time, but mostly he slept. Nothing reached him inside a safe cocoon, it was close around and through him, and kept his senses dim. Magic held him: the wizard knew this, even though only partly conscious, and for the longest time, he accepted it, taking the comfort that oblivion offered. Yet with time came strength, and with strength, the relief of his own little world faded for Harry. Magic was part of his being, but it had been used against him too often too recently for his instincts to lie easy with more, however safe it felt. With Harry's discomfort, the cocoon went away.

Still, the weak young man woke only long enough to accept a familiar voice telling him to rest.

However, eventually, that same familiar voice close by brought Harry from sleep wondering if being 23 had all been a dream. Madame Pomfrey and Harry Potter had shared a more intimate relationship than most students and their school nurses due to the inordinate amount of time the youth had spent in her medibay. Therefore, waking up with the formidable lady's words in his ears took Harry back to the years before the terror had begun.

The young man opened his eyes and sunk back down to ground, as, even out of focus, it was quickly obvious that his surroundings were not Hogwarts of either the present or past, and fully conscious, his body let him know that he hadn't just fallen off his broom while chasing the snitch. He was in a hospital bed, but the walls of the room in which he was lying were made of smooth concrete, not stone, and the ceiling was much lower. Harry turned his head, accompanied more by the discomfort of unused muscles than any pain, and laid his eyes on Poppy Pomfrey, stood by a potion's trolley, hands on hips and by her tone, completing a reprimand which Harry's addled brain could not work out.

Her source of ire was stood at the door, and was one of the last people Harry had seen before passing out, Mad-Eye Moody. The distinctive Auror was stood by the door, his face in more of a scowl than usual; however, the exchange between the two people had finished, and so the awakener was given no clue as to what it had been about. The healer turned back to her trolley, where she continued to mix something in a beaker, and Harry surprised himself as he thought of Julian Maersmith. Unfortunately, all the experiences which came with the memory of the man came pouring into the patient's waking brain; he wasn't ready for the adrenalin that the fresh memories inspired, and he let out a hasty breath as the onslaught threatened to overwhelm him. Within seconds, Moody was hovering at the end of his bed, and Madame Pomfrey was there by his side, and her calm, unhurried hand slipped into his.

"Harry, how are you feeling?" she asked, smiling reassuringly.

The young man didn't have an answer, and his nurse must have seen it in his face, because she squeezed his hand and continued, "A bit groggy, I expect. I've had you in a stabilising field for seventy-two hours: the healing inside you was all over the place. When Professor Snape informed me that you had walked out of the castle, I could scarcely believe it."

"Needed a lot, no barriers," Harry mumbled, not really thinking about what he was saying, but being used to confessing all to this familiar healer.

The carer gave no verbal indication that he'd made any sense at all in what he'd said, but Harry received another supportive squeeze of his hand before she glanced at Moody. The grim-faced man just crossed his arms and nodded to the patient. Harry was dimly aware that he had caused some discomfort in the normally self-present woman, but he didn't know what it was. However, it slipped into the background as the healer recovered herself and began again, "Well, you're safe with us now. It is not that long since I treated you for me not to remember that a steaming bowl of chicken soup always made you feel better."