Harry Potter and the Power of Emotion

Harry was released from the hospital, despite Madam Pomfrey's objections, on the morning of the Leaving Feast. The Hogwarts Express would be returning them all to London the next day. He had spent the vast majority of the past week sleeping. He was incredibly frustrated with his exhaustion, despite Madam Pomfrey's assurances that it was a good thing. She said the only way for his magical energy to restore itself was through sleep, and his body would demand it.

The most exertion he had managed was brief strolls across the room to use the loo. After that, he always needed a nap. The feeling that everyone was still keeping things from him annoyed him. Whenever he finally got someone to open up and talk, the exhaustion would always win out, and he'd fall asleep before he got any real information.

He did learn that there had been another casualty within the Order. A young Auror named Simon Duffy had given his life in the battle to rescue Harry and Ron. Harry had never even met the man, but he added his name to the list in his head. Two more people who had died so he could live. His guilt was compounded by the fact that when he first heard about it, he'd been relieved it was a stranger and not someone he knew.

He hadn't been well enough to attend the quiet memorial services the Order had held for either Simon or Jonathan. The loss of Jonathan hadn't fully hit him yet, but he knew that over the summer, when he started looking over the notes on Old Magic that Jonathan had begun, he'd feel the sorrow in force. For now, he was feeling sort of numb.

His bruises had begun to fade, although the color was still vivid around his ribs. He was tempted to try a simple spell to test his magic and find out just how drained he was, but Madam Pomfrey's warnings that it would delay his full recovery held him back. He hated feeling so helpless.

After being released from the hospital and painstakingly making his way back to Gryffindor tower with the help of his friends, he was surprised to discover the rest of Gryffindor House waiting for him. An impromptu party commenced, with Harry propped on the couch at the center of it all.

Ginny sat with him, holding his hand and soothing away his anxiety about being the center of attention yet again. He still hadn't had a moment alone with her since waking up, and he desperately wanted to talk to her before they went home. She noticed when he began to tire and got Ron to help him up the stairs to the dormitory, where he'd fallen asleep quickly.

*******

Ron and Hermione left the Room of Requirement and headed back to Gryffindor tower. They'd left the party in full swing after Harry went upstairs for a kip. Hermione had wanted to gather a few more books on Old Magic to take home with her to study over the summer. Professor Dumbledore had told her she could use whatever she needed as long as she kept him informed of her progress.

She walked quietly with Ron by her side. Their relationship had been tense and strained since Ron's return from Malfoy Manor, where he and Harry had been held. She had been going spare while they were missing. She just couldn't forgive herself for being so completely taken with Professor Trent. She'd believed in the woman. Now, in hindsight, she could see that it had more to do with being on the right side of an argument with Ron than with being logical. If she hadn't been so stubborn, this whole mess might have been prevented.

Professor Trent had been Narcissa Malfoy almost the whole time. She should have noticed that. She should have seen the odd behavior between Trent and Malfoy, and the way Malfoy acted like such a petulant baby around her. Of course he did; she was his mummy.

He was distant and evasive, reminding her oddly of Harry. She'd tried to get him to open up and talk about it, but it only made him angrier. He just wanted to brush it all under the rug and pretend it hadn't happened. She was really worried about him; this wasn't the Ron she was used to handling. She hoped being back with his family at Grimmauld Place would help; certainly, Mrs. Weasley would notice the subtle changes. Hermione was planning on doing some travelling with her parents this summer. They wanted some time together, and she couldn't deny them.

She was worried about Harry, too. She just couldn't understand Dumbledore's insistence that he be sent back to the Dursleys. Harry was in rough shape, he could barely stay awake for more than a few hours, and the Dursleys certainly wouldn't help him at all. He was shaky on his feet and startled easily; she didn't think it was fair to poor Dobby to make him handle everything alone.

She was so lost in her thoughts, growing angrier by the minute, that she didn't realize Ron was huffing to keep up with her angry stride.

"Hermione," he panted. "What's the hurry?"

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said as she slowed her pace. "I'm worried about Harry. He still doesn't look well, and I don't think putting him with the Dursleys is a good idea."

"I know; Mum's having a fit, too. I think she sent Professor Dumbledore a Howler. Ginny has been owling Bill on nearly an hourly basis with instructions on things to watch out for."

"Well, I'm glad Bill will be keeping an eye on things. Did Ginny tell him to try and cause as much commotion in front of the neighbors as possible? That it might be the only way to convince Mrs. Dursley to go to Grimmauld Place?"

"Believe me, Ginny's told him."

"Every year we send Harry home with those people emotionally wounded. This year, his wounds are physical, as well, and I don't think Dobby is enough against all of them."

"Hermione, Dobby can handle much more than Harry and the Dursleys. He'll make Harry take care of himself better than anyone else could, because Harry won't have the heart or patience to argue with him. He can handle the Dursleys, as well. He put up with the Malfoys for years," Ron said.

Hermione quickly glanced at Ron's face. It had gone dark and stormy; the blue of his eyes was nearly black with intensity. His pace picked up, and it was now her turn to try and keep up with him. He barked the password to the Fat Lady, and they entered the still-crowded common room. She followed a silent Ron up the stairs to the sixth year boy's dormitory.

Ron pushed open the door to his room to find Ginny sitting on a chair next to Harry's bed, where he lay sleeping peacefully. She had a Quidditch magazine in her hands and was flipping through it absently. She looked up as they entered.

"Hello, you two," she said, disdainfully throwing the magazine aside. "He has absolutely nothing to read in here."

Hermione smiled in agreement and sympathy. "He's still asleep?"

Ginny nodded as Harry rolled over and sat up. "No, he's not. How can a bloke get any sleep around here with you lot constantly in and out?" he asked grumpily, although the mischievous twinkle in his eye gave him away.

He looked wan and battered. The bruising on his face showed up starkly against his pale skin. It made him appear extremely delicate, although Hermione was wise enough not to say that to him.

"Get some sleep?" Ron asked indignantly. "Harry, all you've been doing for the past week is sleeping. Aren't you bored with it yet?"

Ginny scowled fiercely at her brother. "Ron! The only way his magic can restore itself is when he's sleeping. Leave him alone." She stood up and marched right over to where Ron stood, stopping in front of him and snarling like a lioness.

Harry grinned in amusement. He fleetingly thought that his masculine pride should be ruffled by her protectiveness, but he had to admit he enjoyed it. No one had ever defended him quite like Ginny. His mind was brought back to the time in Flourish and Blotts, before second year, when a pint-sized Ginny had defended him to Draco Malfoy with all she was worth. It was the first time anyone had ever stood up for him like that.

Harry reckoned that his own masculinity couldn't be offended as he watched his best friend, who was at least a foot taller than his sister and easily outweighed her, as well, cringing beneath her fury and backing away from her. He held his arms up to ward her off in his own defense.

"Take it easy, Sis," Ron replied. "I'm just giving him a hard time. He doesn't expect anything less."

Harry was grinning at Ron. "Sod off, Weasley."

"Boys!" Hermione muttered under her breath. "How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked.

"Okay, I suppose. I'm sorry I missed this past week and all the free time. I would have enjoyed spending some time down by the lake before I had to go back," he answered honestly.

"I wish you were coming straight to Grimmauld Place with us," Ginny said, biting her lower lip. Harry clasped her hand in his own.

"It won't be for long."

"Harry, I know Professor Dumbledore believes you need to be with your aunt for the protection it provides, but what about protection from them?" Hermione brought up the subject that had been plaguing her since Christmas.

She watched as Harry's face closed off, and he rested his head back on his pillows wearily. She knew he was going to try and avoid this, but she wasn't going to let it drop.

"Dobby can keep an eye on things," he replied, averting his eyes.

"Harry, let's drop the pretense. We all saw their behavior at Christmas. Your uncle was going to hit you, and I don't think it would have been the first time."

There, the elephant in the room had finally been acknowledged. There was a tense silence as they all held their breath and stared at one another with wide eyes, waiting to see who would speak first.

Harry's eyes flashed angrily for a moment, and then the fire seemed to go out of them entirely. He began studying the blanket on his bed as if it were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen, picking at a stray thread absently. "I don't want to talk about the Dursleys," he said softly.

"I know you don't, Harry," she said, pressing him more than she knew she should. "But I think you need to talk about them. They don't deserve your protection."

Ginny sat down on the bed next to Harry and gently ran her fingers in his hair. He leaned his head toward her touch and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

"I'm not protecting them," he said, sighing. "It is what it is, and I've survived for fifteen years. One more month isn't going to kill me. Dumbledore doesn't even believe we'll be there for a whole month."

"But, Harry, you shouldn't have to survive it. It isn't right, and you should never have to go back to something like that every year."

"Look, it's nothing. He gets angry sometimes, that's all. He hasn't really been physical in a very long time."

"Are you listening to yourself? It's not 'nothing'. Hasn't really been physical. So, how old were you when it started?" Hermione was really getting angry now. Ron's eyes were wide and panicked. She could tell he both wanted her to stop before setting Harry off, and continue because it needed to be said. "You could get the Muggle authorities involved; there are laws against this sort of thing."

"No. Hermione, stop. I'm not getting into this with you. It's not a good situation; I'll give you that. They've never really wanted me there, but they took me and gave me shelter when I needed it. I'll be seventeen soon, and none of it will matter anymore."

"Oh, Harry," she cried. "Why won't you stand up for yourself when you're so quick to stand up for everyone else?"

"My 'saving people thing', you mean?" he asked angrily.

"No, Harry, your humanity. Why don't you think the same common decency should apply to yourself?"

Harry closed his eyes again wearily; she could tell he just didn't have the strength to argue with her. "I need to go to the Owlry and clean out Hedwig's cage before we leave, and I won't be able to use magic."

"I'll do it, mate," Ron volunteered. "I need to do Pig's, as well."

"I'll go with you, Ron," Hermione said. "We're not done talking about this, Harry." She'd let him off for now, but she fully intended to bring it back up. She leaned over and kissed his head to lighten her words as she followed Ron from the room.

Harry and Ginny watched as the two left the dormitory. Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief and sank back down into the comfort of his bed.

"She's only saying it because she cares so much, you know," Ginny offered. "We all do." As she leaned over, one strand of hair pulled loose from her ponytail and fell across her face. Harry absently brushed it back, rubbing it between his fingers and enjoying its softness. He'd thought he'd never get to do that again.

"I know it," he replied. "I just don't want to get into it with her. Do you know this is the first time I've been alone with you since I got back?" His hand was still playing with her lock of hair.

"Harry, really. We've been together in the hospital wing all week."

"That's hardly alone. Everyone was in and out of there constantly, and Madam Pomfrey never stopped pouring potions down my throat."

Ginny giggled and climbed onto the bed next to him. She leaned in close to his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and whispered huskily, "Exactly why did you need me alone, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he became aroused. At least that still works, he thought wryly. He moved away from her slightly to cover his awkwardness and turned his head to face her. "I wanted to tell you something."

Ginny's eyes widened, and her breath hitched. "What's that?"

He could read the apprehension on her features and wanted to allay her fears. He took her hand in his own and began quietly, hesitantly, "I needed to thank you."

Ginny looked confused. "Thank me. For what?"

"When...when Voldemort was trying to destroy my mind, and I managed to drive him out...it was with a specific thought. That thought not only saved my life, but it somehow hurt him, as well."

Ginny was barely breathing as she prompted him to continue. "A specific thought?"

"Uh, huh. Jonathan kept giving me instructions, telling me to think about the people I care about. It was hurting Voldemort somehow. After I realized that, I thought of you."

"Of me?"

Harry's heart was beating painfully in his chest; this was it. This was the moment he'd been waiting for since he'd been locked in that awful cell. Why was he suddenly so afraid to say it? He again reached his hand up to play with that stubborn lock of hair that had fallen back onto her face. Merlin, why is this so hard?