It reminded Harry of the feeling you get when you get when you press your hands to your closed eyelids tightly and then let go. Little shoots and jets of light seem to radiate as your pupils readjust from the sudden darkness into the sudden light. The difference in this case, was that those little jets of light were short-lived to be taken over by darkness relatively quickly.
However the period of light triumphing over dark in Harry’s head seemed to be lengthening. He still couldn’t find the energy to communicate vocally. His senses recognised the feeling of someone’s hand in his every-so-often and he would try to gently squeeze that hand whenever he had the energy, wanting that someone to know that he was there, just below the surface, still in the dark, but yes, he was there.
Ginny squeezed back. Delighting in finally receiving any kind of response from Harry. The first time he had squeezed her hand, she had practically bounced out the door to the corridor to tell the others, delighting in how Dumbledore’s face had brightened considerably at the news. She left them immediately to return to Harry’s side.
Ginny was allowed to spend several hours at the hospital, usually intermingled with a trip back to Grimmauld Place in the afternoon with her mother. Despite Harry’s progress, her mother would not allow her to maintain a 24-hour vigil by his bedside, sensibly suggesting that Harry would benefit from some uninterrupted rest, as would Ginny.
Mrs Weasley never made any reference to Ginny’s feelings for Harry. She felt selfish and guilty for wishing and hoping that it was just a teenage infatuation. She could not bear the thought of Ginny subjecting herself to any more risk, and being close to Harry Potter, was like playing with fire when it came to risk. While Molly and Arthur had discussed this, they knew better than to mention it to Ginny. They all knew what Harry had done to protect them countless times, in fact Mrs Weasley considered him to be one of the family, but Ginny was her only daughter and the idea of losing her….
Ginny had made sure never to mention her feelings for Harry to anyone. What they guessed or surmised from her attentions to him was their own prerogative as far as she was concerned. She was not prepared to either accept or deny that she had feelings for him.
Sometimes Ginny’s age belied just how intelligent she really was. She didn’t need to be told that she was an active target if she was Harry’s friend. Obviously the stakes went up considerably as Harry’s girlfriend. She had watched her parents in their obvious anxiety over Ron and wondered how they would cope if something were to happen to her. She thought of Harry, and how he too, would cope if something were to happen to her.
She already knew that as soon as he came back to consciousness and regained his strength, he would push her away, in an effort to protect her in the only way he knew how. She knew too, that she would let him do so, in an effort to protect herself, and by doing so, her family from any further pain and loss. Ginny didn’t like to think about that and so instead she allowed herself the luxury of being close to Harry everyday, while he was still unconscious, knowing that she was living on borrowed time.
It hurt her to think about it, ‘but,’ she reasoned, ‘wasn’t she just a teenager after all? Wasn’t there a very good chance that what she was feeling right now was just a teenage crush? But hadn’t she got over that crush years ago? Didn’t that mean that what she was feeling now had to be a little more?’
It was circular thinking with no obvious way out. Ginny didn’t want to have to think or worry about things that seemed far too old, too grown up for someone of her age. Anytime she wanted to forget the questions swirling around in her brain, she forced herself to remember “ Harry was alive, he was alive and he was getting better. She found that thought tended to fill her with relief and contentment and push the nagging questions to the background for a time.
Ron was to be allowed home the following day. There had been a rush of cleaning and tidying done in Grimmauld Place to prepare for his arrival. The twins had even pitched in. They too had matured, while still being up for a laugh at all times, they took pity on their mother’s shattered nerves and were well behaved while they helped.
Ron still wasn’t saying much, he seemed content and at his happiest when Hermione was at his side. No one needed to ask what was going on there, he usually had a firm grasp of her hand whenever she was sitting by his bed which left no one in any doubt that they were a couple.
Both of them had gone to see Harry, together and separately. Dumbledore had requested it, saying he wanted to see Harry’s reaction to their presence. Harry had merely squeezed Hermione’s hand in acknowledgement of her being there. However when Ron visited him and spoke to him, he became agitated, tossing from side to side in his bed. Ron had worried, thinking that he had done something wrong. Dumbledore gently explained that Harry was probably still unaware that Ron had survived the Dementor attack unscathed. After Ron heard that, he went back to Harry and talked to him some more, reassuring him that he was fine and had suffered no lasting effects of the attack. Harry had seemed to quieten after that.
Ginny popped in later that same evening on her evening visit. She sat on the edge of his bed, leaning in to give his cheek a quick peck, before putting his hand in hers. She proceeded to tell him about all the happenings at Grimmauld Place. Ginny reasoned that Harry should be fully up to date when he awoke and that their conversation, well, her conversation should be as normal as possible.
She scolded him about the fact that they were going to Diagon Alley the next day to get all their books and that she and the others were going to have to carry all of his and Ron’s stuff. Mrs Weasley still didn’t think Ron was up to too much exertion. When she finally ran out of things to talk about she simply sat holding his hand and staring at his sleeping face. She felt a well of sadness build up in her, knowing that he was going to wake up eventually, bringing an end to that special time they spent together. Immediately she felt ashamed and angry for thinking that way, knowing how worried everyone was and how much they were longing for him to wake.
She couldn’t deny though that a little part of her wanted to just sit here holding his hand forever. She sighed slowly, brushing his hair back from his eyes. If was so unusual to see Harry for such a long period of time without his glasses on. The little indentation that they made on the skin of his nose from the prolonged contact had completely faded at this stage.
She let her fingers wander from his hair to his face, gently tracing the outline of his lips. She whispered goodnight, and bent to kiss his cheek, but changing her mind, instead gently brushing her lips against his. She heard his sudden intake of breath and began to worry that she had made a mistake, remembering how he had reacted last time they had kissed. However he didn’t wake or seem disturbed, so she slowly unwound her hand from his and turned to leave. However she stopped in her tracks, frozen as a soft croaky voice assaulted her senses “You’re killing me Ginny. How am I supposed to concentrate on anything after that.”