When you were standing in the wake of devastation.
When you were waiting on the edge of the unknown.
And with the cataclysm raining down, insides crying, 'Save me now!'
You were there impossibly alone.
Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?
You build up hope but failure's all you've known.
Remember all the sadness and frustration.
And let it go...
— Iridescent by Linkin Park
~oOo~
Harry awoke.
He was groggy and disoriented. His throat felt as though he had swallowed dry sand. He stared blankly for a moment, trying to get his bearings. He couldn't recognise where he was nor could he remember exactly why he was there. It wasn't until he heard a muted gasp beside him that some of the haziness dissipated. Frowning in confusion, he turned towards the sound and was met with Ginny's bright, tear-filled eyes.
"Harry! Thank Merlin, you're awake!"
"Gin? What are you—?" Harry trailed off upon noticing that Ginny was wearing her Quidditch kit; her hair a wild disarray around her face.
It was then that realisation hit him like a vicious blow to the head. He jerked to sit up but immediately fell right back down with a breathless grunt. He gingerly touched his pounding head, swallowing mouthfuls of air.
Fuck, everything still hurts.
"Where's Draco?" He rasped out, eyes boring a hole into Ginny's head.
"He's at school, Harry. We had to take you to St. Mungo's." Ginny quickly explained.
Harry gritted teeth and struggled to get up, "I need to go."
"What?! You can't! Harry, lay still!" Flustered, Ginny tried pressing him back down on the bed. "At least, let me get a mediwitch! Mum is outside talking to your Healer. Please just—you'll hurt yourself again if you keep bloody doing that!"
Harry shook his head vehemently, forcibly swinging his legs to the floor. Merlin's saggy arse, but my bones feel loose! "Gin! Just help me find my fucking boots, alright?" He bit out, brushing Ginny's hands away.
The door to Harry's hospital room swung open, admitting four more people—a Healer, Molly Weasley, Ron, and Hermione. They all froze where they stood, staring at Harry, aghast.
Ginny shot them a helpless look before throwing her hands in the air, glaring bloody murder at Harry, "If you weren't already hurt, I would gladly hex you right now, Harry James Potter! So, Merlin help me!" She hissed in exasperation.
"Bloody hell, mate. What are you doing?" Ron exclaimed, stalking into the room.
"What does it bloody look like I'm doing?!" Harry retorted irately, pushing his hair off his face. "I need to get back to school!"
Ron shook his head, mumbling something that sounded very much like 'bloody reckless wanker'.
Hermione snapped out of her stupor and rushed towards Harry, crushing him in a hug that made his just-healed bones rattle. "Oh Harry! Thank goodness you're alright!"
Harry swallowed back a pained groan, wincing as he brought his arms around her. "How's Draco? Is he okay?"
Hermione nodded, pulling away. "He's awake. A bit shaken but he's alright." She gazed at Harry and sighed ruefully, "He wanted to see you."
"I want to see him. I should've been there, Hermione." Harry urgently whispered, eyes flicking towards the Healer who had approached his bed.
"Mr. Potter, a pleasure to meet you. I'm Healer Miriam Trent." The woman gave a sharp smile that did little to dull the edges of her angular features. Without much preamble, she proceeded to take out her wand and swished it right in front of Harry's nose.
"Hello." Harry muttered brusquely, looking pointedly away. He knew he was acting like a petulant child, but he was truly past caring.
Healer Trent hummed, eyes glued on the flickering lights above Harry's head as she performed various Diagnostic Spells. After what seemed like an eternity, resulting in the further fraying of Harry's already strained patience, the Healer nodded with satisfaction, "Vital Signs look good."
"Brilliant." Harry forced a grin. "So, can I leave now?"
Healer Trent gave Harry a thin smile that made him wonder if the woman had been a Slytherin. "Unfortunately, the bones you broke have only just settled and you'll still be in quite a bit of pain. I'd also like to keep you overnight for monitoring just to be sure there are no further complications from your concussion. You had taken a rather nasty blow to the noggin, Mr. Potter. I'd rather be safe than sorry."
"I'm sure Madam Pomfrey can monitor me just fine." Harry frowned. "Its not as if I'm in a critical condition."
The Healer gave him an odd look while Mrs. Weasley began to wring her hands anxiously as she paced quietly behind Trent. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione remained conspicuously silent. They understood Harry's urgency and they knew arguing with him was ultimately pointless.
After an uncomfortable staring contest with Healer Trent—for it was definitely a contest; a battle of wills—the unflappable women finally nodded with narrowed eyes, "Very well, Mr. Potter. I will approve your release from St. Mungo's but you are to remain overnight at Hogwarts' Hospital Wing. I will be sure to owl Madam Pomfrey and your Headmistress regarding the matter."
A genuine smile etched itself across Harry's face as he gave the Healer a relieved nod.
"Harry dear, are you sure you don't want to stay here instead?" Mrs. Weasley asked, stepping forward to cup Harry's face, giving him a thorough once-over.
Harry shook his head and gave his adoptive mother a lopsided smile, "I feel fine, Molly. I'd rather just go back to Hogwarts."
"Well... Oh, alright." Mrs. Weasley replied reluctantly, giving Harry's cheek a gentle pat. "If you insist." Apparently, she was just as susceptible to the charms of Harry's beaming grin.
* * *
It didn't take long to sort out Harry's discharge papers. A couple of hours, another battery of Diagnostic Spells, and a Pain Potion later, the four of them were finally stepping through the Floo into McGonagall's Office. The Headmistress was standing by her desk, an inscrutable look on her face. She swept her sharp gaze over their little group before her piecing eyes settled on Harry. A tight frown crinkled her brow as she took in his ashen pallor.
"Take a seat, Mr. Potter, before you collapse to the floor." McGonagall said, indicating a cushy armchair. "As much as I would like to send you on your way to Madam Pomfrey, we still have matters to discuss." She turned towards the other three Gryffindors and nodded, "I will accompany Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing. You may go about your business."
Realising that they were being dismissed, Hermione balked. Filled with reluctance, she stared at McGonagall then at Harry, who gave her a strained smile as he sank gratefully into the armchair.
"'Mione, c'mon." Clearly uncomfortable, Ron took her arm, giving it a gentle pull. "See you later, mate."He threw Harry a helpless nod as he half-dragged his unwilling girlfriend towards the doorway, where Ginny was already waiting for them.
Ginny gave Harry a jaunty little wave before disappearing behind the Gargoyle with Ron and Hermione in tow; the S.P.E.W. Founder's hissed tirade trailing behind them, interspersed with Ron's weak mumblings and Ginny's soft whispers.
Once they'd gone, McGonagall seated herself behind her desk and pinned Harry with an entirely disconcerting stare. Harry cleared his throat, raking a nervous hand through his hair. The silence became nearly oppressive before McGonagall finally spoke.
"Evelyn Fielding. Half-blood. Sixth Year Ravenclaw."
"Sorry?" Harry looked up, perplexed, from where he'd been carefully studying the patterns on the carpet as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
"The culprit, Mr. Potter." McGonagall supplied with a remorseful sigh. "She has been expelled. Although Mr. Malfoy has decided against pursuing the matter any further, I feel you deserve to know about it."
Harry opened his mouth but clamped it shut again, pressing his lips firmly together; his jaw twitching with the effort. He could feel his rage slowly building; it bubbled just beneath the surface. His skin itched as his Magic raced through him, crackling through his pores.
"Did she say why she did it?" Harry asked through clenched teeth.
McGonagall quietly regarded him, pointedly ignoring the uncomfortable swirl of Harry's Magic that hung heavily in the air.
"She was under the belief that you weren't in your right mind. That Mr. Malfoy has had you in his thrall this entire time. She insists that you are under the influence of some very Dark Magic, otherwise, you, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, would never be caught dead consorting with a Death Eater. Especially not Mr. Malfoy, who you've hated for so many years." McGonagall narrated, sitting ramrod straight; only the minute twitch at the corner of her eye gave any indication of her displeasure at the allegations. "She was Rita Skeeter's Hogwarts source.
"So... She what—decided its a bloody good job to just go ahead and murder Draco?!" Harry spat, green eyes flaring with cold fire; his Magic rattling the baubles in the Headmistress' Office.
"Control yourself, Mr. Potter." McGonagall admonished. "I won't have you reducing my office into rubble."
Harry clenched his eyes shut, inhaling sharply, willing himself to calm down.
"Yes, Ms. Fielding believed she was saving you and doing the rest of the Wizarding world a service by eliminating Mr. Malfoy."
"Fucking ridiculous." Harry growled, burying his face in his hands.
McGonagall frowned at the profanity but surprisingly didn't breathe a word. She resorted instead to giving Harry a reprimanding stare, which he ignored entirely.
"Where is she now?" Harry whispered after a moment but kept his head lowered.
"She has been sent home. She could have been detained at the DMLE, await a Trial, but Mr. Malfoy wants none of that. He just wishes to forget it ever happened."
Harry viciously rubbed his face, chest heaving as he fought to reign in his volatile temper and rising Magic.
"What if I want that Trial?" Harry looked up to stare at McGonagall. "Surely, they won't deny the Boy Who Lived." He added, voice dripping with sarcasm.
McGonagall pressed her lips into a severe line, meeting Harry's intense gaze. "Are you sure that's wise? Considering the circumstances, I might add. It would only make matters worse for Mr. Malfoy and stoke the flames of public dissent even further. All the work you had both put into downplaying your relationship would all be for naught. You would once again be cast in a negative light, Mr. Potter, and that's less than ideal, so soon after the War. The public would not and could never crucify the Saviour for his actions, instead they would rather look for a scapegoat. Who better to pin all the blame on than an Ex-Death Eater like Mr. Malfoy, someone who had curiously gained your sudden affections?"
Harry inhaled a shaky breath, biting down hard on his lip to keep from screaming, swallowing the faint tang of blood that seeped into his mouth. His shoulders shook as he hunched in on himself, mind racing, looking for answers but coming up with absolutely nothing.
"Fuck." Harry whispered hoarsely; the tone of utter defeat in his voice grating on his nerves.
"My advice, Mr. Potter..." McGonagall said gently. "Follow Mr. Malfoy's lead. Gryffindor Courage would do little to help you this time around." She shook her head wryly as though disbelieving what she was about to say. "However, Slytherin Cunning would no doubt serve you well."
Harry's head jerked up so fast, he momentarily felt dizzy. He gaped at McGonagall, who gave him a very uncharacteristic smirk.
"Right." Harry huffed out a soft, incredulous laugh.
"Well, then. Let's best be on our way to the Hospital Wing before Poppy storms my office in search of her patient." McGonagall nodded, smoothly rising from her chair.
Harry followed suit but paused as he stared at the fireplace. "He's gone, isn't he?"
"Yes." McGonagall replied softly. "If everything proceeds as expected, he will be back next Tuesday."
Harry nodded jerkily, swallowing thickly.
McGonagall shared a somber glance with Dumbledore, who had been listening quietly the entire time.