The steps to the kitchen seemed rather longer than he remembered them. Harry gripped the banister and took each step carefully. Once he had to stop and catch his breath. Ginny was going to have his hide for wandering around, but she wasn't here to stop him, at the moment.

Voices from the kitchen. Molly was here today, to keep an eye on Harry and Tim.

"...talking to my angel." Tim was saying, "It was nice."

"Your angel, dear?" asked Molly, gently "You have an angel?"

"Nana said everyone does, its just that not everyone can hear them, 'cause they don't listen well enough. She said that your angel would always tell you the right thing to do."

If anyone noticed Harry on the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister, he'd deny he needed to catch his breath a second time. He'd tell them he was enjoying the sound of enthusiastic childhood chatter.

It was even mostly true.

"She said that you can't hear them with just your ears, you have to listen with your heart and your gut too." Tim went on. He was speaking very seriously, but somehow he sounded more childlike than he ever had before.

"Your Nana was a very wise woman. I know exactly what you mean." said Molly, encouragingly "So, you were dreaming about talking to your angel?"

"Yeah. He was talking to Mr. Potter. He's never talked to anyone else, even when I was dreaming. I think maybe Auntie Ginny was in it too, but I don't remember what she was doing. Anyway, he said something, but I don't remember what and then I woke up, but it was a nice dream. " Tim finished.

Harry sighed. The child deserved to have all the nice dreams he could get.

Molly's sharp ears caught the sound, "Harry James Potter! Are you out of bed?" she called out.

Harry had hoped that perhaps Ginny might not have mentioned to her that he wasn't supposed to get up today.

As if that was bloody likely.

"Uh, yeah. Just thought I'd get some tea." Harry replied, trying not to sound sheepish. He staggered down the remaining three steps.

"If Master had wanted tea, Master should have called Kreacher." the house elf said, turning from the stove, to fix Harry with a reproachful expression, as he came in through the door, "Mistress Ginny said Master was not to leave his bedroom today."

Molly shook her head, "Well, sit down. Have some tea and its straight back up with you. I'll help you back up. I doubt you'd make it upstairs yourself at the moment." she poured a cup of tea and added liberal amounts of milk and sugar to it, Harry noticed, "You look like death warmed over."

Harry couldn't dispute Molly's assessment. He'd only been allowed to leave St. Mungo's yesterday. He just couldn't stay in bed staring at the wall for one more minute. Ginny always complained that he was the world's worst patient.

"How about I just go sit in the drawing room and read?" wheedled Harry, Drinking his tea.

Molly huffed, "All right, but don't come crying to me, when your wife goes mad. I'm not taking any responsibility for it."

Harry winked at Tim who was sitting next to him. Like Harry, he was still in his pajamas. The boy covered his own smile with his hand,

"Have a good sleep?" Harry asked. For a moment a sense of deja vu drifted on the edge of his awareness, then it was gone.

Tim nodded, shyly.

"He was just telling me what he was dreaming about." put in Molly fondly.

"I had some peculiar dreams." said Harry, "I think the stuff the healers have me on make my dreams weird."

"It can do." agreed Molly, "Now, come on, at least put your feet up, Harry."

Harry sighed, there was no arguing with Molly when she went into full on caretaker mode. With her help, he staggered up the short flight of stairs to the drawing room. There was a bathroom on the same level that he didn't have to brave steps to get to. Molly got him situated on the couch, summoned pillow and blankets.

"Now you stay put." she said. She put a stack of books beside the setee, "Do you mind if I put Tim in here with you?" she asked quietly, "He's supposed to be resting too, but he really doesn't want to be alone."

"I can't blame him." Harry wondered just how long it would be until Tim could cope with being alone. It didn't matter, really, "Bring him in here and we'll keep each other company."

Molly smiled at him. Looked critically at the settee before widening it enough so both Harry and Tim could fit on it. She summoned some more pillows and blankets, "I used to do this when the boys got sick." she said, "Put them down in the living room where I could see them. If I left them to their own devices, they'd have the whole house down around my ears the minute they were feeling better."

She tucked Harry in firmly, "Tim, lovey." she called down the stairs, "Why don't you come sit with Harry? Your supposed to be resting too."

Once Tim was firmly settled, Molly said, "Now, if you need anything, just let me know. I'm just sending Kreacher out for a few things."

"Thank you, Molly." said Harry, gratefully, surprised at how tired out he felt after just walking up and down stairs. The healers had warned him that he wold be a few weeks getting his strength back; regrowing lung tissue wasn't like mending broken bones. He had strict orders to stay in bed for two days before a healer would come by to check on him. He really wasn't supposed to be going any further than the bathroom, just a few steps from his bed.

He lay back after a minute, idly watching Tim draw, until the boy felt his gaze and looked up,

"Mr. Potter?" asked the boy.

Harry sighed to himself, it was back to "Mr. Potter", hopefully that would change soon, "Nothing. Just wondering what you're drawing."

Tim's cheeks colored, making him look more cherub-like than usual. Harry realized that, in the week since he'd seen him properly, the boy had put on weight. That was good to see.

"If you don't want to show me, I understand." Harry used to be very reluctant to show adults anything he was doing. If the teachers liked something and praised it where any of the Dursleys could hear, Aunt Petunia would berate him for "showing off". He hadn't been stupid enough to show his "family" anything he was proud of. One of his more unpleasant memories was when his teacher had sent a story Harry had written, in his last year of primary school, home. The accompanying note had told the Dursleys how much she enjoyed Harry's presence in class and praised his "imaginative nature". That was one of the episodes that Dudley's account and Harry's really agreed.

Tim gave his trade mark shrug, "I was just drawing what I was dreaming about last night." he said quietly. After a moment of thought, he turned the drawing around. It had a happy sun in the sky, Harry was pleased to see. A yellow ball, high in the blue sky, with a smiling face.

Three figures stood on the ground. One larger figure, smiling, with black hair, green eyes and glasses, smaller figure with blond hair and blue eyes. Incongruously, A black figure stood next to the other two, huge black wings reaching around what Harry took to be the Tim figure. Harry was glad the creature had a face, otherwise it would look like a Dementor. It smiled benignly, but it was so very black.

"Can you tell me about it?" That was Harry's standard question, since the time Al had become distraught when Harry had innocently asked him what one of his drawings was.

Tim pointed, "That's me."

Harry nodded seriously.

"That's you." Tim looked up to see if Harry was following, "And that's my angel." last, he pointed at the black figure, "He's got black wings and robes 'cause he's fierce. He takes care of me when things are bad and there's no one else."

Harry nodded. That made sense that the boy would create a protector for himself. Both Lily and Albus had had their share of imaginary friends, without nearly as much reason as Tim, "So, what's happening?"

"We're just being together."

"Me too?" Asked Harry smiling,

Smiling shyly, the boy nodded.

After a moment more of admiring the drawing, Tim put it aside to start on another picture.

Harry wished he had taken up knitting. It would be be easier to ask Tim about the other thing Harry had on his mind, if he didn't have to meet the boy's eyes, "Um, TIm..."

"Yeah." the child kept drawing, that was helpful.

"The other day, when I uh...came to get you. I heard you tell Smith something about us keeping you in a cupboard?"

Tim looked at him, horrified, "When did you get there?"

"Uh, when the pizza arrived. I have an invisibility cloak I use for work." Harry replied. He wouldn't even have brought it up, except it was such a peculiar thing to say, that Harry had to know why he said it.

"I'm sorry...I-I didn't mean to lie, but he didn't want to know anything good..." Tim's face turned white, then red, then white again.

"It's, okay." Harry was quick to reassure him. "I thought it was clever, honestly, for you to tell him what he wanted to hear, right then." Harry dared to slip an arm around Tim's back and was rewarded by the boy scooting closer to him, "I just wondered how you made that up?"

"It was in that book you were reading." said Tim, nodding at the coffee table, where Dudley's book rested.

"You read that?" asked Harry surprised. He wouldn't have thought it would interest a seven year old boy.

Tim nodded, matter of factly, "I like the bits about 'The Boy'."

Half facetiously, Harry asked, "So have you read all the books we have?"

Tim nodded, "All the ones I could reach. Some of them weren't that good, but I liked a lot of them."

Harry remembered what Penny had said about Tim's reading level being quite a bit above average, but this surprised him, "So you read a lot, then?"

"I don't play football well, and my Nana wouldn't let me watch telly most days. Mum didn't care how much I watched though. Sometimes she took me to the library."

"Oh." Tim's life came into sharper focus, again. Small, uncoordinated, and often sickly, Tim would have no interest in outdoor games. After his grandmother's death, reading was probably a welcome haven. Certainly, now that Harry thought of it, Tim always had a book in his hand.

"Why did you like the bits about 'The Boy'?" asked Harry curiously.

"Because..." Tim had to think about it apparently, "Because it's nice to know that he got better, I guess." Tim's cheeks colored again, "I read the last part first. I don't like stories with sad endings."

Harry had to agree with that.

Harry kept dozing off all day, but that seemed to be fine, so did Tim. The healers had told Ginny for the next week or so, it was likely that Tim would keep dropping off. When Snape had used it on the students of Hogwarts, he'd suggested to Poppy that the tired students needed Pepper-up potion. Ernie didn't like to use that, preferring to allow Tim's body to find it's own balance.

It was only when Lily looked in on them, after getting back from school, that Harry wondered where Ginny could have gotten too.

Really, he needed to ask the healers to reduce the dosage of whatever they were giving him. It made him calm to the point of apathy.

"Molly?" he asked her when she came to check on all of them. Lily and Tim were engrossed in a game of wizard chess, "When's Ginny due home?"

Molly glanced nervously at the clock, and then the children. She gave a sharp jerk of her head towards the hallway. Harry took her meaning, "Would you help me up, Molly? Uh, bathroom."

Harry staggered into the hallway and they half closed the door. Molly used her wand to cast a Silencio, "They're at the Ministry. I thought they'd be back by now." Molly was actually wringing her hands a bit, "Oh, I was hoping we could tell you when you felt better."

Harry really hated it when people kept things from him, "What, Molly?"

"Smith's parents. You know they're still alive? Well, when they were notified about what happened, the Ministry had to tell them the circumstances. When they found out Tim was their grandson by blood, they...filed for custody of Tim." she said the last in a rush.

Even through the calming potion, Harry's stomach dropped. He sucked in his breath with an alarming wheeze, "You were going to tell me this, when?" he demanded.

"Harry!" she hissed, "Sit down," she conjured a chair and pushed him down onto it, "They have every right to. They're his last living relatives. The hearing's today."

"We didn't tell you, because there's nothing you could have done." she went on.

Really there wasn't. Harry was having a hard time right now, not giving in to a wave of blackness. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe steadily.

"Harry, slow down." Molly was saying encouragingly. she waved her wand, "Vernum".

Suddenly there was more air in Harry's immediate vicinity and the spots cleared from his eyes.

Just that moment, Molly and Harry both heard the sound of happy voices from the front door.

Someone was singing at the top of his voice,

"We're off to see the Wizard!

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz"

A voice that Harry recognized as Dudley's, laughed, "Do you think you could manage to be more of a stereotype?."

Ginny's giggle, "I need to see this film!"

Ron and Hermione's laughter, behind them.

Molly and Harry looked at each other,

"It sounds like it went well." Molly said tentatively, a slow smile blooming on her face.

The door slammed open, "OI! Harry! You alive?" called Ron.

"Here." he called, from where he sat on the stairs.

"Told you he wouldn't stay in bed. You owe me a Galleon." Ron said To Phillip, who started digging around in his pocket.

Ginny stood at the bottom of the stairs looking happier than she had all week, "Do you want the good news or the better news?"