**STAR Labs - Medical Bay - December 26th, Morning**
Consciousness returned to Harry Potter in stages.
First: pain. A dull, throbbing ache that seemed to radiate from his very core, like he'd been turned inside out and put back together slightly wrong.
Second: voices. Familiar ones, speaking in hushed tones that suggested they thought he was still unconscious.
"—vitals are stable, but the magical residue in his system is unlike anything I've seen." That was Caitlin Snow, her professional calm barely masking concern. "The dark magic he absorbed should have killed him. Would have killed anyone else. But the armor—"
"The armor's been metabolizing it," another voice interrupted. Female, British, carrying the authority of someone used to healing. Andromeda Tonks. "Converting the dark energy into something the Speed Force can process. It's brilliant, really. Terrifying, but brilliant."
"How long until he wakes up?" That was Daphne Greengrass, and Harry's foggy mind registered surprise at hearing her here. How long had he been out?
"Soon," Caitlin said. "His brain activity has been increasing over the past hour. Any minute now."
"Should we get the others?" Susan Bones this time, her voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who hadn't slept properly in days. "Mrs. Weasley will want to know the moment he wakes."
"Let him wake first," Andromeda said gently. "Give him a moment to orient himself before the entire Weasley clan descends. You know how they can be."
Third: the realization that he was lying in a bed. The medical bay at STAR Labs, based on the distinct hum of equipment and the smell of antiseptic mixed with the ozone scent that always permeated the facility.
Fourth: his eyes opened.
The ceiling came into focus slowly—white tiles, fluorescent lights turned down low, a holographic display showing what looked like his vital signs floating nearby.
"Harry?" Daphne's face appeared in his field of vision, pale and drawn. Dark circles under her eyes suggested she'd been awake for far too long. "Harry, can you hear me?"
"Mmph," Harry managed. His throat was dry, voice rough. "Water?"
Movement erupted around him. Susan was suddenly there with a cup, helping him sit up slightly while Daphne adjusted the bed. Caitlin appeared with a medical scanner, checking his responses. And in the corner—
Andromeda Tonks stood with one-year-old Teddy on her hip. The baby's hair was currently a shocked blue, and he was staring at Harry with the solemn intensity only toddlers could manage.
"Welcome back," Andromeda said with a slight smile. "You gave everyone quite a scare."
Harry sipped the water, letting it soothe his throat. His mind was clearing, memories returning in a rush: Ginny's kidnapping. The Crouch estate. The explosion. Absorbing all that dark magic into the armor—
"How long?" he croaked.
"Three days," Daphne said quietly. "It's December 26th. Boxing Day. You've been unconscious since—"
"Since you decided to play hero and absorb a magical bomb into your chest," Susan finished, and there was something sharp in her voice. Relief mixed with anger. "What were you *thinking*?"
"That people would die if I didn't," Harry said simply. He tried to sit up further and found his body responding sluggishly. The Speed Force connection was there, but muted. Like trying to hear through cotton.
"Easy," Caitlin cautioned, her scanner showing increasing concern. "You're healing faster than should be possible—thanks to the Speed Force—but your body still needs time. The amount of dark magic you absorbed..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "By all rights, you should be dead. Or corrupted. Or—"
"But I'm not," Harry said. He looked at his hands, flexing fingers that felt almost normal. The armor was dormant, dissolved into his clothes, but he could feel it humming just beneath his skin. Changed. Evolved. Having metabolized something it was never designed to consume.
"You're not," Andromeda confirmed. She approached the bed, Teddy reaching out chubby hands toward Harry. "May I examine you? Healer to patient?"
Harry nodded. Andromeda passed Teddy to Susan—the baby immediately fascinated by her red hair—and pulled out her wand.
The diagnostic spells painted the air with streams of colored light. Andromeda's expression cycled through surprise, concern, fascination, and finally something like cautious relief.
"Your magical core is intact," she said. "Actually, it's *stronger* than it should be. The dark magic you absorbed didn't corrupt you—it was transformed by the Speed Force and Death's power into something else entirely. Raw magical energy that's been integrated into your system." She lowered her wand. "You're going to be more powerful than before, Harry. Significantly so."
"Great," Harry muttered. "More power. Just what I needed."
"You saved lives," Daphne said firmly. She'd moved to sit on the edge of his bed, and Harry noticed for the first time how her hand was resting near his. Not quite touching, but close. Present. "The Aurors found seven people in that estate who would have died in the explosion. You contained it. Protected them."
"Rookwood, Selwyn, and the woman," Harry remembered. "Are they—"
"In custody," Susan confirmed. Teddy was trying to eat her hair, and she gently redirected him. "Along with three other Death Eaters who were apparently waiting upstairs. All of them are being tried for kidnapping, attempted murder, and practicing dark magic. They'll be in Azkaban for the rest of their lives."
"Good," Harry said. Then, quieter: "Crouch?"
"Dead," Andromeda said gently. "His body was completely destroyed in the explosion. There's nothing left to resurrect this time."
"The Horcrux—Mad-Eye's eye—"
"Destroyed along with him," Daphne said. "When Crouch used it to anchor his resurrection, he bound his soul to his new body. When that body was destroyed, the soul fragment went with it. He's gone, Harry. Permanently."
Relief washed over Harry. One less dark wizard to worry about. One less enemy who might resurface.
"Where's Ginny?" he asked. "Is she—"
"She's fine," Susan assured him. "Shaken, angry about what happened, but physically unharmed. The cut on her arm was healed, and Andromeda checked her for any lingering dark magic from the ritual. She's clean."
"She's downstairs actually," Daphne added. "In the Cortex with the rest of the Weasleys. And Hermione. And Barry and Cisco. It's been... crowded."
Harry tried to imagine the STAR Labs Cortex filled with the entire Weasley clan and winced. "How did they take the technology?"
"Mr. Weasley nearly had a heart attack from excitement," Susan said with a slight smile. "He's been asking Barry questions nonstop about how everything works. Cisco loves him. They've been talking about Muggle inventions for hours."
"Mrs. Weasley has been force-feeding everyone," Daphne continued. "The STAR Labs kitchen is now fully stocked with enough food to feed an army. Caitlin didn't know whether to be grateful or overwhelmed."
Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion, the lingering effects of absorbed dark magic—Harry felt a smile tug at his lips. That sounded exactly like the Weasleys. Loud, overwhelming, and caring in ways that bulldozed through any resistance.
"We should tell them he's awake," Caitlin said, already moving toward the door. "Before Mrs. Weasley storms up here anyway. She's been checking every thirty minutes."
"Wait," Harry said. He looked at Daphne and Susan—really looked at them. Saw the exhaustion in their faces, the relief in their eyes, the way they'd positioned themselves on either side of his bed like guardians. "How long have you two been here?"
They exchanged glances.
"The whole time," Daphne admitted. "We arrived about an hour after Barry brought you here. Hermione sent word through the Protean Charm network that you'd been injured."
"We've been taking shifts," Susan added. "One of us awake at all times in case you—in case something happened."
"You should have been resting," Harry protested. "You don't need to—"
"Yes, we do," Daphne interrupted firmly. "Harry, you're not just some contractual obligation anymore. You're—" She paused, searching for words. "You're our partner in this. Our friend. And friends don't leave each other unconscious in a medical bay in a foreign country without support."
"Especially friends who have a habit of absorbing magical explosions," Susan added dryly.
Warmth spread through Harry's chest that had nothing to do with the Speed Force or Death's power. Just simple human gratitude for people who'd chosen to stay when they could have left.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "Both of you. For being here."
"Where else would we be?" Daphne said, and this time her hand did cover his. Just briefly, just a squeeze of acknowledgment, before she pulled back.
The moment was interrupted by a commotion from the hallway—raised voices, Caitlin's professional calm trying to establish order, and then the door burst open.
Molly Weasley stormed in like a force of nature, her eyes red-rimmed but fierce. Behind her came Arthur, Ron, George, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, and Hermione—the entire family minus Ginny, all of them looking various degrees of relieved and worried and ready to fuss.
"Harry James Potter," Molly said, and her voice carried that tone that meant she was three seconds from either hugging him or hexing him. "You have been unconscious for three days. *Three days*, Harry. Do you have any idea—"
She couldn't finish. Instead she surged forward and pulled him into a hug that would have been crushing if he weren't armored beneath his skin.
"I'm okay," Harry said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "I promise, I'm okay."
"You absorbed a dark magic explosion into your *chest*," Molly said, pulling back to look at him with tears streaming down her face. "That is the *opposite* of okay!"
"But everyone lived," Harry pointed out. "That's what matters."
"You matter too, you absolute numpty," Ron said, moving closer. His expression was complicated—relief and exasperation and the unique frustration of someone whose best friend kept almost dying. "You can't keep doing this. Throwing yourself in front of danger like you're expendable."
"I'm not—"
"You are," Hermione interrupted. She'd been quiet until now, standing near the door with her arms crossed. "You treat yourself as expendable, Harry. As if your life matters less than everyone else's. And it's going to get you killed."
"The Speed Force can handle—"
"The Speed Force can't fix everything!" Hermione's voice rose. "And neither can Death's power! You're not immortal, Harry! You're just a very fast, very powerful teenage boy with a hero complex!"
The medical bay fell silent.
Harry opened his mouth to argue, to defend his choices, to explain that he'd done what was necessary—
But the words wouldn't come.
Because maybe Hermione was right. Maybe he *did* treat himself as expendable. Had been doing it since he'd walked toward Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, since he'd accepted death as the price for everyone's safety.
Maybe dying and coming back hadn't fixed that. Had just given him more ways to survive things that should have killed him.
"I don't know how to stop," Harry admitted quietly. "Putting myself in danger. Choosing others over myself. It's—it's what I do. What I've always done."
"Then learn," Daphne said firmly. She was still sitting on the edge of his bed, and now Susan moved to sit on the other side. "Learn that your life has value beyond what you can sacrifice. That people *care* about you—not as Death Speed or the Boy Who Lived, but as *Harry*."
"We can't keep doing this," Susan added gently. "Watching you almost die. Wondering if this time will be the time you don't come back. It's—" her voice cracked slightly, "—it's exhausting. And terrifying."
"And we're going to keep doing it anyway," Ron said. "Because you're family. And family doesn't abandon each other even when they're being complete idiots."
"Especially when they're being complete idiots," George corrected. His smile was strained, still carrying the weight of Fred's absence, but genuine. "We Weasleys specialize in supporting idiotic behavior."
"Speak for yourself," Percy muttered, but he was smiling too.
Harry looked around the medical bay at all these people—family by blood and choice, friends who'd become something closer, partners who'd started as obligations and evolved into something real—and felt something in his chest loosen.
Not the pain from the absorbed dark magic. Something deeper. The weight he'd been carrying since he'd learned he was the Boy Who Lived. The burden of being special, chosen, marked for death and duty.
Maybe he didn't have to carry it alone.
"Okay," Harry said finally. "Okay. I'll try. I'll try to value myself more. To not throw myself at every danger without thinking." He paused. "But I can't promise I won't still do dangerous things. That's kind of part of the hero job description."
"We're not asking you to stop being a hero," Hermione said, her expression softening. "We're asking you to be a *living* hero. One who survives to fight another day."
"I can do that," Harry promised. And meant it.
Molly wiped her eyes and managed a watery smile. "Good. Now—has anyone fed you? You must be starving. Caitlin, where's your kitchen? I'll make something—"
"Already taken care of, Mrs. Weasley," Caitlin said with amusement. "Your care packages have been sustaining the entire STAR Labs team for days. We're very grateful."
"Good, good." Molly was already moving around the room, straightening things that didn't need straightening, her need to mother expressed through action. "You need rest, Harry. Real rest. Not this unconscious nonsense. Proper sleep in a proper bed."
"I'm in a bed," Harry pointed out.
"A *proper* bed," Molly repeated firmly. "At the Burrow. Where we can keep an eye on you."
"I think he needs to stay here for at least another day," Andromeda interjected professionally. She'd been quiet during the family reunion, tending to Teddy, but now she stepped forward with a healer's authority. "The magical residue needs monitoring. And STAR Labs has equipment that can track the Speed Force integration in ways St. Mungo's can't."
"Fine," Molly conceded. "But after that, you're coming home. All of you—" she looked at Barry and Cisco, who'd appeared in the doorway during the commotion, "—are invited for dinner. Multiple dinners. As many as it takes to properly thank you for taking care of our Harry."
"That's really not necessary—" Barry began.
"It's *extremely* necessary," Molly said in a tone that brooked no argument. "You saved his life. Multiple times, from what I understand. The least I can do is feed you."
Barry looked at Harry helplessly. Harry just grinned—weak but genuine.
"Don't fight it," he advised. "You'll lose. And honestly, you don't want to miss Mrs. Weasley's cooking. It's worth the overwhelming affection."
"Speaking from experience?" Cisco asked, amused.
"Years of it," Harry confirmed.
The conversation devolved into logistics—who would stay at STAR Labs, who would return to the Burrow, how long Harry needed to remain under medical observation. Andromeda took charge with professional efficiency, establishing a schedule that would allow Harry visitors while ensuring he actually rested.
Through it all, Harry noticed that Daphne and Susan never moved far from his bedside. They participated in the planning, coordinated with Hermione, but always came back to their positions flanking his bed like sentinels.
Like they were afraid if they left, something bad would happen.
Eventually, Molly herded most of the Weasleys out—promising to return with dinner and threatening dire consequences if Harry didn't rest. Hermione lingered briefly, giving Harry a long look that communicated volumes without words, then followed the others.
Andromeda took Teddy with her—the baby needed a nap, and she wanted to consult with Caitlin about the long-term effects of absorbed dark magic.
Which left Harry alone with Daphne and Susan.
The silence was comfortable. Exhausted, but comfortable.
"You should sleep too," Harry said quietly. "Both of you. You look like you haven't rested in days."
"We haven't," Daphne admitted. "Not really. Every time we tried, we'd worry something would happen. That you'd stop breathing or the dark magic would surge or—" She stopped, taking a shaky breath. "We couldn't leave. Not until we knew you were going to be okay."
"I am okay," Harry said. "Or I will be. Andromeda said so."
"Andromeda is brilliant, but she's not infallible," Susan pointed out. She'd moved closer, settling into a chair beside the bed. "And you have a habit of defying medical predictions. Usually in the 'getting worse when you should be better' direction."
"That's fair," Harry acknowledged. He studied them both—these girls who'd started as contractual obligations and become something else entirely. Friends. Partners. People who *cared* in ways that went beyond duty or obligation. "I'm sorry I worried you."
"You should be," Daphne said, but there was no heat in it. "We're supposed to be courting you—getting to know you, seeing if we're compatible—and instead we've been sitting vigil by your unconscious body. Not exactly the romantic timeline anyone imagined."
"Definitely not how I planned our courtship going," Harry agreed with a slight smile. Then, more seriously: "Thank you. For staying. For being here when you didn't have to be."
"We already told you," Susan said gently. "We're past the point of 'have to.' We *chose* to be here. Because we care about you, Harry. Not as Lord Potter or Death Speed or the Boy Who Lived. As *you*."
Something warm unfurled in Harry's chest. Not the sparks-and-butterflies feeling he'd had with Ginny in the beginning. Something different. Steadier. The foundation of something that could be built on respect and partnership and genuine affection.
Maybe not romantic love. Not yet, maybe not ever. But something real nonetheless.
"I care about you too," Harry said honestly. "Both of you. I know the contracts forced us together, but somewhere along the way—" he struggled for words, "—you became people I actually want in my life. People I trust."
Daphne's expression softened. "That's the nicest thing you've said to either of us."
"It's also the most sedated you've been," Susan added with a slight smile. "Maybe we should keep you on pain potions more often. You're very honest."
"I'm honest when I'm awake too," Harry protested. "I just—I'm not good with emotions. Never have been."
"We've noticed," Daphne said dryly. "But we're patient. And we have two more months to figure this out together."
Two more months. The courtship period.
Harry had been so focused on surviving—on the contracts, on Ginny, on training and heroism and everything else—that he'd almost forgotten the timeline. Two more months to determine compatibility. To decide if marriage was viable or if dissolution was necessary.
They were three months in now. Halfway through.
And somewhere along the way, without Harry noticing, the impossible situation had become something manageable. The forced courtship had evolved into genuine friendship.
Was that enough to build a marriage on?
Harry didn't know. But he was beginning to think it might be.
"Rest," Susan said, standing. "We'll be right outside if you need anything. And this time, we'll actually try to sleep. I think Caitlin set up cots in one of the labs."
"You don't have to—"
"We're staying," Daphne interrupted firmly. "Not in this room—you need actual rest without people hovering. But we're not leaving STAR Labs. Not until you're cleared to go home."
Harry wanted to argue. Wanted to insist they didn't need to sacrifice their comfort for him.
But the words wouldn't come. Because part of him—the part that had been alone for so long—didn't want them to leave.
"Okay," he said simply. "Thank you."
They left quietly, and Harry was alone with his thoughts and the gentle hum of medical equipment.
He should sleep. His body needed it. The Speed Force needed it.
But his mind was too active, processing everything that had happened. Crouch's resurrection. Ginny's kidnapping. The explosion. The three days unconscious.
And through it all—Daphne and Susan staying by his side. Choosing to be there when they could have left. When the contracts didn't require that level of devotion.
*Interesting,* the Speed Force whispered in the back of his mind. *You're starting to see them differently.*
*I see them as friends,* Harry thought back. *Partners.*
*For now,* Death's presence added, amused. *But two months is a long time. Things change. People change. You might be surprised by what you discover.*
*Or I might discover we're incompatible and can dissolve the contracts,* Harry countered.
*Perhaps,* the Speed Force agreed. *But would you want to? Honestly?*
Harry didn't have an answer.
He closed his eyes and let exhaustion claim him—real sleep this time, not unconsciousness. And if his dreams were filled with crimson and gold lightning, with partnership and possibility and the strange warmth of people who'd chosen to stay—
Well. That was between him and the forces that lived in his armor.
---
**STAR Labs - Medical Bay - Later That Night**
Harry woke to darkness and the soft sound of breathing.
Not his own—someone else's. In the room with him.
His enhanced perception kicked in automatically, the armor's sensors painting a picture even without light: A figure sitting in the chair beside his bed. Female. Red hair. Familiar magical signature.
Ginny.
"I know you're awake," she said quietly. "Your breathing changed."
Harry opened his eyes. The medical bay's lights were off, but residual glow from the equipment provided enough illumination to see her face. She looked tired—not as exhausted as Daphne and Susan, but worn nonetheless.
"Hi," Harry said. His voice was rough from sleep.
"Hi," Ginny echoed. She was curled in the chair, arms wrapped around her knees, looking smaller than he remembered. "Sorry for sneaking in. I told Caitlin I just wanted a few minutes. Alone. To talk."
"It's okay," Harry said. He tried to sit up, and this time his body cooperated better. "Are you—how are you? After everything?"
"I'm fine," Ginny said automatically. Then, more honestly: "I'm furious. Violated. Terrified in retrospect. But physically fine. Andromeda checked me three times. There's no lingering dark magic from the ritual."
"Good," Harry breathed. "That's—I'm glad."
Silence fell between them. Not comfortable this time—weighted with everything unsaid, all the complicated history and present circumstances pressing down.
"You saved me," Ginny said finally. "Again. Like always."
"Of course I did," Harry said. "Ginny, I would always—"
"I know," she interrupted. "That's—that's what I wanted to talk about. What I needed to say."
She uncurled from the chair, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Her brown eyes—so familiar, carrying years of shared history—met his directly.
"I've been in France for four months. Four months of distance and space and trying to heal from everything." She paused. "And you know what I realized?"
Harry shook his head.
"I realized that I was waiting," Ginny said. "Waiting for you to choose me. Waiting for the six months to end and for you to dissolve the contracts and come back to what we had. Waiting for everything to go back to the way it was before the war ended."
"Ginny—"
"But it can't," she continued. "We can't go back. Too much has changed. *You've* changed. And so have I." She took a shaky breath. "I love you, Harry. I probably always will. But loving someone and being *with* someone—those are different things."
Harry felt something crack in his chest. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying we need to let each other go," Ginny said, and tears were streaming down her face now. "Really let go. Not this half-state where we're technically apart but still holding on. We need to actually move on."
"I don't know if I can," Harry admitted. "Ginny, you've been—you *are*—"
"Part of your story," Ginny finished. "I know. You're part of mine too. But maybe—maybe we're not meant to be the *end* of each other's stories. Maybe we're meant to be important chapters that lead to something else."
Harry couldn't speak around the lump in his throat.
"I saw them, you know," Ginny said. "Daphne and Susan. While you were unconscious. They were here *constantly*, Harry. Taking shifts, refusing to leave, looking at you like—" She paused. "Like you matter. Not as the Boy Who Lived or Death Speed. As *Harry*. The way I used to look at you."
"They're friends," Harry managed. "The contracts—"
"The contracts might have brought you together," Ginny said. "But what I saw these past three days? That wasn't obligation. That was *choice*. They chose to stay. Chose to care. And you—" she reached out, taking his hand, "—you care about them too. I can see it in the way you talk about them. The way your expression softens when Daphne makes one of her analytical observations or Susan says something perceptive."
"That doesn't mean—"
"It means you're building something," Ginny interrupted gently. "Maybe not romantic love. Not yet. But something real. Something that could become more if you let it." She squeezed his hand. "And you should let it, Harry. You deserve to be happy. Deserve to be with people who see all of you and choose to stay anyway."
"What about you?" Harry asked. "What about what you deserve?"
"I deserve to be chosen," Ginny said simply. "Chosen first. Chosen without hesitation or obligation or the weight of contracts hanging over everything. And Harry—" her voice cracked, "—you can't choose me. Not really. Not when you have two more months of courtship obligations. Not when breaking those obligations could kill people."
"So we're just giving up?"
"We're acknowledging reality," Ginny corrected. "We're saying that what we had was real and important and meaningful—but it's over. And that's okay. It's allowed to be over."
Harry wanted to argue. Wanted to insist they could make it work, that love was enough, that the contracts didn't matter.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because maybe Ginny was right. Maybe what they'd had—intense and important and forged in the fires of war—had run its course. Maybe trying to hold onto it was just hurting both of them.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "For putting you through this. For the contracts and the courtship and making you wait while I figured things out."
"I'm not," Ginny said. "I'm not sorry for any of it. Loving you—even when it hurt—was worth it. You saved my life, Harry. Multiple times. You made me feel seen and valued and strong. That doesn't disappear just because we're not together anymore."
She stood, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. Brief. Gentle. Final.
"Be happy," she whispered. "With Daphne and Susan or someone else entirely. Just—be happy, Harry. You've earned it."
"You too," Harry managed. "Be happy, Ginny. Find someone who chooses you first."
"I will," she promised. She moved toward the door, then paused. "For what it's worth? I think you're going to be surprised by how much you care about them. Daphne and Susan. You're already halfway there. You just haven't realized it yet."
"Ginny—"
"Don't make them wait too long," she said. "Don't waste the two remaining months trying to prove something that's already evident. They stayed, Harry. While you were unconscious and might not wake up—they stayed. That means something."
She left before Harry could respond, the door closing with a soft click.
And Harry lay in the darkness, processing what had just happened.
Ginny had let him go. Really, truly let him go. Freed him from the weight of expectation and history and the complicated tangle of what they'd been to each other.
He should feel relieved. Or devastated. Or *something*.
Instead, he just felt... quiet. Like a chapter had closed, and he was standing at the threshold of a new one, uncertain but not afraid.
*She's right,* the Speed Force whispered. *You care more than you've admitted.*
*About friendship,* Harry insisted.
*For now,* Death added, amused. *But Ginevra Weasley is perceptive. She saw what you haven't yet. The foundation you're building with the Greengrass girl and the Bones girl—it's stronger than you think.*
*I don't know what I'm building,* Harry thought desperately.
*Then perhaps,* the Speed Force suggested gently, *it's time to find out.*
Harry closed his eyes and tried to process everything. Ginny's goodbye. Her blessing. Her observation that Daphne and Susan had stayed when they could have left.
*They chose to be here,* Harry realized. *Not because of obligation. Because they cared.*
And somewhere in the STAR Labs labs, sleeping on cots they'd refused to abandon, Daphne and Susan were proving Ginny's point just by their presence.
Harry didn't know what the next three months would bring. Didn't know if friendship could evolve into something more, or if the contracts would ultimately need to be dissolved.
But for the first time since this whole impossible situation began, he felt like maybe—just maybe—there was a path forward that didn't require anyone's heart to break.
A path built on honesty and partnership and the slow, steady growth of something real.
He fell asleep thinking about possibilities instead of obligations.
And if his dreams were filled with two girls who'd chosen to stay, with crimson and gold lightning intertwined with silver and yellow—
Well. That was something to explore when he woke up.
---
**STAR Labs - Cortex - December 27th, Morning**
Harry was cleared for discharge the next morning with strict instructions from both Andromeda and Caitlin about rest, monitoring, and absolutely no heroics for at least a week.
"I mean it, Harry," Caitlin said sternly as she reviewed his final scans. "Your body is still processing the residual dark magic. The Speed Force is handling it, but you need to give it time. No running at Mach speeds. No fighting Dark Wizards. No absorbing any more magical explosions."
"That last one was definitely a one-time thing," Harry assured her. "I don't recommend it."
"Good. Because we'd like to keep you alive." She smiled slightly. "You've become something of a fixture around here. The team would miss you."
"I'd miss them too," Harry admitted. STAR Labs had become a second home over the past months—a place where he could be himself without expectation or judgment. Where being a speedster was normal and being powerful was just another thing to train.
Barry appeared in the doorway, already in costume. "Morning. How's the patient?"
"Cleared for release," Harry said. "Though apparently I'm on mandatory rest for a week."
"Good," Barry said firmly. "You need it. And honestly? So do your friends. The Weasleys have been stress-eating Cisco's entire snack stash. Daphne and Susan have been running on zero sleep. Everyone needs a break."
"Where are they?" Harry asked. "Daphne and Susan?"
"Shower facilities," Barry said. "Cisco insisted they use the executive bathroom—hot water, good pressure, all the amenities. They've been sponge-bathing for three days. I think they were too exhausted to argue."
Harry felt guilt twist in his stomach. Three days they'd spent here, uncomfortable and exhausted, because of him.
"Hey," Barry said, reading his expression. "Don't do that. Don't blame yourself. They *chose* to stay. Nobody forced them."
"I know, but—"
"No buts," Barry interrupted. "Harry, you've got people who care about you. Who want to support you. Let them. Stop trying to carry everything alone."
It was becoming a recurring theme. Everyone telling him he didn't have to be alone, that accepting help wasn't weakness.
Maybe it was time to actually listen.
"Okay," Harry said. "I'll try."
---
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