Magic of the Night (Harry Potter/Twilight Crossover)

Chapter Nineteen:

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

I woke up. And while normally that wouldn't be considered a particularly earth-shattering feat, this time was one of those exceptions. My entire body ached fiercely, and I expected that an examination would reveal bruises all over. A careful inventory told me that despite these aches, a tender throat that hurt when I swallowed, and a much sharper stabbing pain along my left side that, while sharp and raw, was bearable, I appeared to be in one piece.

Satisfied that everything was marginally stable, I carefully peeled my eyes open. For about a quarter of a second I registered the fact I was in Edward's room, and then I was being pulled into an embrace that made me huff slightly as the air was knocked from my lungs. I didn't really care, though, not with the way Edward was holding me against his body, molding us as tightly together as we could be without being physically intimate.

There was no kissing, no heavy touching, no rubbing or grinding, just holding tight. Reveling in the fact that we could.

I might have cried a little bit too.

I made a sound of protest as Edward gently pulled away, his reluctant expression looking as if it was agonizing for him to do so, but then he was moving, and his iced, marble body was replaced by one that was warm and squishy and had two days worth of scruff that scratched me as I was pulled into another tight hug, this one squeezing even harder then Edward's.

"Dad!" I choked, tears springing to my eyes from the pain caused by the tight hug, "can't breathe!"

"Don't care," Charlie muttered, though he did, obligingly, loosen his grip enough that my ribs weren't being crushed inwards, and I released my breath in a relieved puff as the pressure on my side vanished.

The hugging lasted for an eternity- by 'Charlie Swan Standards', at least. Not that Charlie seemed to be the one caring this time, instead it was me who felt more and more progressively uncomfortable as my father showed no signs of letting go any time soon.

Deciding drastic action must be taken; I cleared my throat (it was more then a little choked up at this point) and then asked the question I thought would be most likely to get more then just a one or two word answer from him.

"So, is the mostly dead man I brought back still breathing?"

Predictably, Charlie did let go, moving back so he was still seated on the bed within arm's length of me, and I slumped back against the pillows that Edward had thoughtfully arranged up against the headboard for me so that I was propped up without having to expend much energy.

"He's alive," Charlie confirms, "thanks to Doctor Cullen."

"Carlisle's kept his heart going, though it was very touch and go, up to a point." Edward explains, as he lifts my hand in his two icy ones. I shiver, but not from the cold. "He's in a medically induced coma, at present. Luna and Katie both advised that we keep him like that."

"Probably for the best. I'm pretty sure he's still considered a war criminal." I muse, and then almost laugh as Edward and Charlie let out nearly identical long-suffering sighs.

"I don't even want to know how you ended up with him." Charlie says, despairingly. "Or why you brought him here."

"It was Luna's fault." I inform him- because it's true- and he just shakes his head. "How is she, anyway?" I ask, "And how long have I been... asleep?"

"A little under fourteen hours." Edward is the one to answer me, "Carlisle said it was mostly exhaustion that had you unconscious so long, paired with an unhealthy amount of stress and trauma."