Chapter one: Is she dead yet?

It had been her idea to get engaged in the first place, Harry had agreed to it with joy and even love; but now, he wasn't so sure. The final battle had sapped him of all his emotions, he felt empty, unable to love Ginny like he used to, unable to fulfill emotion commitments of a married couple. It would break her heart… So here he was, sitting stone faced in a Mungo's waiting room, Ginny leaning on his shoulder, tears rolling slowly down her face, waiting for news about Hermione.

Hermione had been at the last battle, had helped by protecting him while he and Voldemort had faced off. Now she was paying the price, her health was erratic, and no one seemed to know if she would live or not.

"Tea?" Harry asked, Ginny had been like this since the healers decided to try an extreme, and risky, spell to try and pull Hermione back into consciousness, and his sleeve was damp. He needed to get away for a little while.

"Sure." The answer that passed through Ginny's lips was a tad horse, but accompanied by a weak smile.

Harry heaved a quiet sigh of relief, rising. "Be back soon." He managed a slight smile in return that immediately disappeared after he turned to walk out into the hall in search of a stairwell. Would he be responsible for another friend's death? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind; he didn't think he could handle that. He was here to get tea!

The service was good, and he only had half the people staring at his forehead by the time he left again; he had tried to grow out his hair, cover the scar, but he was such a well known image by now it was impossible to hide his identity. Descending the stairs he concentrated on not spilling any of the hot liquid out of one of the large steaming mugs onto himself; it kept other thoughts out.

"Thank-you." Ginny sipped at her tea, clutching it to herself like a child does a teddy bear. Her red-rimmed eyes closed gently as she enjoyed the comforting liquid steaming down to her stomach.

Harry didn't respond, he just took his seat back. Sipping at his tea absently, his eyes forever fixed on the door; silent as the grave. You will not think of death!

The spell took a long time; Ginny had fallen into a less then peaceful slumber by the time the healer came. Harry barely blinked, his eyes hurting from dryness. There were no tears to cry, he felt like a husk.

"There's some good news, and some bad news." The horrible words of every tragic muggle hospital story echoed through Harry's head. She must be dead! He jumped up, nose-to-nose now with the gray-haired healer. Ginny remained asleep, her head tilted back, fine scarlet wisps of hair falling over her face.

"The good news is the spell was successful, even with the extra man in the room." The healer began; Ron had refused to leave the room. "She's now asleep, and we believe she will stay with us." The healer hesitated.

"And the bad news." Harry's voice was not much higher then a hiss. She was not dead. What, then, was wrong?

"The bad news is we believe that since her condition was so bad that she might suffer from some mental issues, perhaps permanently, once she wakes up." The old man's face was creased with genuine concern.

"Have you told Ron this?" Harry asked, wondering how his best mate would react to this news. Ron and Hermione had been married only a year before, afraid for how much time they had left. Would that be all the time they had?

"The young-man inside was informed." The healer replied steadily. "We had to use a sedative spell on him, but he has calmed down."

That did it; Harry stepped quickly past the healer to the inner room, his mind forgetting Ginny. Presented with a long white hall Harry walked hurriedly down it, glancing every door till he caught a glimpse of red. The door read 'authorized personnel only, dangerous spells at work' but he ignored it, going to his friend who was sitting in a chair, his upper body collapsed onto the white sheets of the hospital bed.

"Ron?" Harry tentatively reached out a hand to Ron's shoulder, his friend's shoulders heaved. "There's a chance she is completely recovered." He offered; he felt so dead inside. What would he do if she never did? At least you didn't kill her. His mind was sick; if she was mentally disabled, if the smartest of them was mentally broken, it wouldn't matter if she was alive.

"If she isn't, this might be goodbye Harry." Ron's head lifted, his voice cracking in heightened emotion and rawness from so many tears.

"Ron, don't." His friend's entertainment of suicidal thoughts was like a kick in the gut, it was like having the devil laugh in his face. No matter what he did, someone other then him died, someone he loved. His soul would be shattered if it were to happen again. It didn't matter if he, personally, had entertained such thoughts; no one else would die for his stupidity. "You can't just let the world off the hook so easily. If she doesn't recover, whatever divine power let it happen should know that you're angry at them!" Those words were something that had kept him going the past few years.

Ron stared at him blankly. The form, curled in on herself, stirred slightly, letting lose a small groan.

A/N I think this story shall be rather long… Reviews would be nice –hint-hint-