In Ink and Inheritance (Book 1)

Chapter 16 - In the Quiet After the Storm

Harriet Potter's POV

Waking up felt like swimming through cold treacle.

I was floating, weightless, my limbs numb and heavy all at once. My mouth was dry. My skin prickled with gooseflesh. I could hear the crackle of firewood and the soft clink of vials - and someone breathing just a little too fast.

When I opened my eyes, the Hospital Wing ceiling swam above me - high arches, soft candlelight.

Everything ached.

My fingers, my ribs, my head. Merlin, my head.

Then I saw him.

Oliver.

He was slumped in the chair next to my bed, soaked cloak half-draped over his lap, hair still damp and sticking up at odd angles like he hadn't touched it since the match. His hands were clasped between his knees, knuckles white. His expression was a mix of exhaustion and something like...

Grief.

"Oliver?" My voice cracked.

His head shot up.

"Harriet-Merlin-" He was already on his feet, stumbling closer, hovering like he didn't know if he was allowed to touch me. "Are you-? I mean-how do you feel?"

"Like I got thrown out of the sky," I rasped.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but it didn't turn into a smile.

"You did."

Right. The match.

The storm.

The... Dementors.

It hit me in a wave. The screaming. The cold. The way the world vanished beneath me, all sensation ripped away until there was nothing but air and fear and-

I sat up too fast and gasped.

"Easy." Oliver pressed a hand to my shoulder, steady but gentle. "Don't push it."

Madam Pomfrey materialized beside me like she'd apparated from thin air.

"Miss Potter. You're awake. Good. You've got a minor concussion and a touch of magical exhaustion, but nothing we can't fix."

"How long-?"

"About six hours," she said briskly. "You'll be here overnight."

I looked back at Oliver. He hadn't moved away.

"I didn't see them coming," I whispered.

"No one did," he said softly.

There was a long pause.

I swallowed. "Did we win?"

His mouth twisted. "They called the match off."

That was answer enough.

I exhaled slowly, settling back against the pillows. My hands were still trembling, just slightly. I didn't know if it was from the fall or the memory. Maybe both.

Oliver sat again - not in the visitor chair now, but on the edge of my bed. He still looked wrecked. Like someone had taken the solid, unshakable captain and unmoored him.

"I thought I lost you," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I saw you fall and... I've never been that scared in my life."

My breath caught.

"It was like watching the world drop out from under me."

I didn't know what to say. He wasn't supposed to say things like that - not with me still bandaged and reeling and younger than him by years that felt heavier than ever in this room.

But he did.

And it didn't feel wrong.

"I'm still here," I murmured.

He nodded once. Looked down at his hands.

"I know we didn't choose this," he said. "The contract. The timing. Any of it. But if anything happens to you again-if you fall like that and I can't catch you-Harriet, I don't know what I'd do."

I didn't think.

I just reached out and took his hand.

He didn't pull away.

The room was quiet except for the fire crackling and Madam Pomfrey muttering about potion rotations.

And for a moment, despite the pain and the fear and the cold still lingering in my bones...

I felt warm.