Harry didn't even think about the large shard of glass embedded in his collarbone; the pain was overruled by the adrenaline running through his system as the night of the final battle raged on.

Now that he thought about it, warm blood was seeping down his chest and stabs of pain shot across his shoulder when he breathed, which was getting harder to do every second. The glass must have punctured part of his lung.

He was at calming point; the bodies were being moved, families re-uniting, loved ones mourning. Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Weasley family were clustered by Fred's battered body. Luna and Neville were leaning against each other in a corner.

Now that he was alone with his thoughts, his shoulder really hurt.

Chancing a look down at the wound, Harry grimaced. The glass was embedded deeply, and the blood was spreading faster. He needed to find a healer...

Harry stood and tried to walk towards the other side of the great hall where he could se a St Mungo's healer preparing a draught. His vision was getting hazy, making it hard to move.

The pain was worsening, and the blood loss was making his head swim.

"Harry?" Someone's concerned voice called. All eyes in the great hall turned to him.

Everyone gasped when they saw their Hero stumble, clutching his shoulder. Someone ran to catch him, just in time to see him fall to the ground, blood beginning to trickle from the side of his mouth.

Harry Potter had fallen.


Ginny paced around the Hospital Wing frantically, unable to stay in one spot. This earned her disapproving glares from Madame Pomfrey, which she ignored.

Harry was lying in a bed only a few feet away, pale and unmoving.

How could he have let himself get hurt? How COULD he? After everything he had already been through, dying and whatnot, he had to get himself injured too? That wasn't fair to him, she realized. Harry was under so much stress already, he was bound to get hurt a little...

Thank goodness it had only been a shard of glass, and not a knife, or a chunk of metal... Or the killing curse.

Ginny went and got a chair, confining herself to it and getting a loud sigh of relief from Madame Pomfrey.

She was just so worried!

With her brother dead, and family all suffering, it was hard not to completely lose it then and there.

Ugh, when would Harry wake up? He had a LOT of explaining to do... She would have to wake him up just to kill him again.

Everyone was worried, groups of people lining up outside the Hospital wing to hear if Harry was alright. NO one wanted to lose him so soon after he had saved them all... Especially her. Ginny hadn't seen Harry for almost a year.

This last thought got Ginny up out of her chair and pacing again. Madame Pomfrey looked like she would blow steam out her ears.

Then, behind her she heard a soft groan.

"Ginny?"

Harry's weary voice had never sounded so sweet.

"Harry!" She cried, whirling around and practically jumping on him.

"Easy, easy" Harry said, wincing. Ginny backed off, a flush adorning her cheeks. She clasped his hand in both of hers, kissing it tenderly as tears pooled in her brown eyes.

"Don't cry" Harry whispered, using his good hand to caress Ginny's cheek. Ginny smiled.

"I missed you" She replied.

"I thought of you every day" Harry said, his green eyes piercing into hers. Ginny nodded.

"Me too"

Harry reached out for her, and Ginny gratefully climbed onto the hospital bed, nestling into Harry chest. Harry sighed in contentment. Madame Pomfrey huffed from across the room, causing both Gryffindors to smile. Harry tilted Ginny's face up to his, pressing his lips to hers.

Ginny melted at the touch, pulling herself as close to Harry as possible.

How many times had she imagined this during the year he had been gone? Too many.

Harry broke away, smiling.

"Does this mean we're back together?" Ginny nodded, kissing him again, uncaring whether Madame Pomfrey would go into conniptions.

Just like old times, there they were.

Safe in each other's arms.