Harry Potter and No Trace Of You

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ginny was curled up in an armchair, staring off at nothing as her head rested against the back of the chair.

She looked up at him. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," he said. "And at least now I know what I look like."

She tried to smile at the tactless joke, but ended up looking more pained than anything.

Well done, Potter, he thought.

It occurred to him how late it was, how tired she looked.

"You really don't need to stay," he said, forcing himself to put his wand down on the small table within easy reach of the bed.

"Oh," she said. "Of course."

He turned to see her gathering her things.

She gave him a tight smile. "I'll be out in the hall if you need anything."

He frowned. "No, that's not what I—"

She came to a stop with her hand still on the door handle.

He thought of the woman in the photo. The rings on her fingers. "You're going to stay either way, aren't you," he surmised.

"Yes," she said, chin lifting and eyes defiant.

He nodded, turning to look at the upholstered armchair she just vacated. Picking up his wand, he thought about what he wanted to happen. For a long moment, he didn't think anything was going to happen, but then the chair slowly transfigured into a camp bed of sorts.

She looked at him and he shrugged. "You might as well be comfortable," he said, and climbed back into his own bed. He tossed her one of his pillows, and she caught it, placing it at the head.

She spent a while in the bathroom herself before they both settled down, dimming the lights.

It wasn't exactly a restful night, noises filtering in from the rest of the hospital, mediwitches coming in every couple hours to re-take scans. But it was nice not to be alone.

He dozed at some point in the early hours of the morning, waking with a start when the door pushed open. He scrambled for his wand and glasses.

"Good morning," a mediwitch said cheerily as she backed in with a tray.

Harry's head still didn't feel all that great and he didn't remember anything, so he wasn't sure what could be labeled good about it.

"Do you remember who that is?" she asked, pointing to his similarly grumpy-looking wife.

"Uh. No," he said. "I mean, her name is Ginny?"

"Yes, it is," the mediwitch said, giving him a smile. "That's good."

"Is it?" he asked.

"It means that you are still able to retain information. The toxin isn't keeping you from making new memories. That's certainly a good thing, isn't it?"

"I suppose," he said. Waking up a blank slate over and over again did sound rather horrifying. You know, more horrifying.

His wife disappeared into the loo while the mediwitch took yet another series of scans.

"Any word on an antidote?" he asked.

She smiled, patting him on the knee. "These things take time."

For some reason, Harry didn't think he was particularly known for his patience.

The mediwitch left the tray, dubious smells emanating from the food. Ginny came over, giving it a wary look.

"Good morning, Potters!" Ron said, sweeping into the room and looking much better rested.

"Is it?" Ginny asked, dropping down on the chair next to the bed.

Ron looked between them. "I take it you haven't remembered anything."

"No," Harry said.

"Well," Ron said bracingly, squeezing his sister's shoulder comfortingly. "We'll just have to wait for the potion then. What have you got there?" He gestured at the tray.

Harry lifted the cover, revealing a rather congealed mess of porridge and stewed fruit.

Ron scowled. "Hell, no. No mate of mine is eating that slop." He pulled out a container of food. "Besides, Mum insisted."

As it smelled far better than the hospital food, Harry didn't complain.

"Bless you, Ron," Ginny said. "I take back everything mean I've ever said about you. From the last 24 hours at least."

"Brat," he accused, and started setting out food.

Ron stayed a few hours, but then had to get back to work. Harry thought to ask Ginny if she needed to get to work, but he had a feeling it wouldn't matter one way or the other, to judge from the mulish look on her face the night before when he suggested she didn't have to stay.

The most she'd been willing to concede was leaving the room to make a few calls.

He took advantage of her absence to climb out of bed and look out the small window. It was a lovely view of a completely dreary alley.

He sighed, leaning his forehead against the glass. His headache was finally fading, his stomach was full of good food, and he no longer felt dizzy at all. He felt bloody fine. Other than the not being able to remember anything.

He longed to sit down and really focus on the problem, to figure it out, but he didn't have anything to work with. And it wasn't like he was going to be able to fill anything in, being stuck here. It was a hopeless task.

God, he really didn't want to be here anymore.

"You're starting to lose your mind a bit, aren't you."

He spun around, so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't heard Ginny's return. "I'm sorry?"

"Being here," she said. "It's starting to get to you."

He scrubbed his hand up the back of his head. "Oh, uh. Yeah."

"You hate hospitals."

He thought that pretty much tracked with what he was feeling. But realizing she knew him better than he remembered himself only made this more frustrating.

"Would you like to leave?" she asked.

He sighed. "Would they let me?"

She gave him an intense look. "Just tell me if that is what you want, and I will make it happen."

He considered her a long moment, wondering if he could take her at her word. To judge from the last 24 hours, he didn't doubt her abilities. "It is."

"Okay then," she said, and walked back out of the room.