Harry opened his eyes to find himself in St. Mungo's for the second time.
He tried to talk, but his vocal cords wouldn't cooperate.
The newly-thirteen year old frowned and lifted his hand up to touch his bandaged throat, but a pair of hands stopped him.
"No, Harry, don't touch it!" Remus pleaded worriedly.
Harry's bottom lip stuck out in a slight pout and the werewolf chuckled, affectionately carding his hand through the young boy's hair.
All too soon, the 13 year old felt his eyelids drooping and let out a silent yawn.
"Sleep, Cub, I'll be here when you wake up!" Remus murmured gently, placing a soft kiss on his son's forehead.
Harry nodded weakly and let his eyes drift shut, soon lost in comforting visions of Quidditch and the Weasley twins' pranks.
Author's Note: Sorry, I'm still battling Writer's Block.
I think I may actually be winning this war, though!
My muse has been very active these past two weeks...