The Semblance of Peace

Chapter 1

"Harry? Can you hear us?"

It sounded like Hermione, if Hermione were talking through a metal pipe at the other end of the room.

Wait, what room?

"Harry?"

There was light now, filtering through the cracks his tired eyelids made. Harry wasn't sure where he was or what was going on, just that there had been darkness before. Now there was light. He supposed it was an improvement.

"Look, his eyes!" Still the strangely distorted Hermione, though now more voices echoed around him, all talking about his eyes for some reason he didn't understand.

A hand was touching his hand, he could feel that. It squeezed, and he squeezed back as hard as he could. It wasn't very hard, but still enough to trigger a squeak from whomever was touching him. It sounded like Ginny.

"Oh God, Harry. Yes, come on, open your eyes."

Hermione's words were enough to make his body obey. Harry's eyes fell open, and for a moment he was blinded. So much light. So white. Then blurry shapes came into view, and the next thing he knew was a weight leaning on him and Hermione's bushy hair tickling his face. Her weight was replaced with Ginny's, who still smelled like flowers. She placed a small kiss on the corner of Harry's mouth. It felt strangely dry.

"Harry, can you hear us now?" That was Ron, and Harry managed to turn his head and see the figure of his best friend standing at the side of his bed.

Wait, his bed?

"You're in St Mungo's," Hermione said. She kept stroking his arm, as though afraid if she stopped she might lose him again.

But she hadn't lost him, had she?

"Wha-" Harry couldn't force more than that tiny sound past his vocal chords. Everything -- his throat, his tongue, his lips -- felt useless.

"Here, drink something." Ginny pressed a glass against his lips and water trickled down Harry's throat. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Sweet and clear, and Harry moaned when she took the glass away. "You can't have too much at once, sorry."

"Do you remember the battle at Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked. Harry managed a crooked nod, his chin falling to his chest. "You faced Voldemort. You killed him, Harry. But he hit you with something. We're not quite sure what it was, not even the healers here were able to give you a proper diagnosis --"

"What she's trying to say," Ron interrupted. Harry could hear the grin in his voice. "You were in a coma for the last four weeks."

"Three-and-a-half," Ginny said, squeezing his hand again.

He'd been in a coma? He didn't remember any of that. He remembered the battle, he remembered facing Voldemort on the hills outside Hogsmeade in the fading light of dusk. He remembered casting a Killing Curse. And then things got a bit foggy.

A coma, apparently.

"Mr Potter. Glad to see you are finally awake." This new voice came from a woman Harry didn't recognize, but her green robes told him she was probably a healer. "If you would please give us a few moments," she said to Harry's friends. "I'll make sure he's all right."