Title: Imaginary

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling and her associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit

Rating: M

Warnings: DH Spoilers, EWE. Slash, sex and swearing

Summary: Harry collapses after the final battle and wakes up in a muggle hospital, with the doctors claiming he has been in a coma since he was 11 years old, when he ran head-first into a wall. He has to come to terms with the fact that the Wizarding World was simply a figment of his imagination...or was it?

Author's Notes: I hope you all liked the twist in the last chapter ;) Again, thanks to anyone who reads or reviews!

Chapter Seventeen

As the Elder Wand clattered to the floor, the majestic stag vanished. Harry could do nothing but stare blankly at the empty space that his patronus had just seconds ago occupied, his mouth gaping wide. 'What the fuck?!' was the only thought cycling through Harry's head. How on earth had he managed to conjure a patronus, his magic was gone!

After a few minutes of bewildered silence, Harry eventually managed to reach down to the floor and pick up the wand, and place it on the table. He then proceeded to stare at it, until a noise from the hallway distracted him. Moving on instinct, Harry made a grab for the wand and shoved it up his sleeve, only managing to recover his original position seconds before the mahogany doors swung open.

"Morning, Potter." Malfoy said with a contented smirk as he sauntered in through the doorway. He walked around the table and took a seat opposite Harry. "How are you this wonderful morning?"

Harry could do nothing but blush and stammer awkwardly at his blonde haired companion.

"No response? Well, I for one had a great sleep, very...satisfying." He drawled with a sly grin on his face.

Harry could feel his face getting redder and redder, so he moved to exit the room, his appetite now well and truly gone. He mumbled an excuse about having to go and visit the Weasleys, and darted up from his seat to make a break for the door.

"Don't think you can always run away, Potter. You've got to face me sometime." Malfoy called as he rushed for the exit, causing Harry's stride to falter slightly, but he managed to keep moving somehow.

"Oh and Potter – Happy Birthday. I'll be waiting to give you your present later."

Harry gulped.

...

After his sudden exit from the dining room, Harry headed straight for the room that held the Floo, his only plan to get out of Malfoy Manor as soon as possible. His mind was whirling with thoughts of the wand, his magic and Malfoy. 'I wonder if he meant what I thought he did about my present...'

As he reached the room that housed the enormous fireplace, Harry stopped and swore loudly. In his haste to escape from Malfoy and his taunting, he had completely forgotten that he could no longer use the Floo. Harry turned around, and started to head for his bedroom, where he could wait until Hermione came to get him, when a thought struck him. 'What if I can use it again?' He hesitantly stepped into the fireplace, grabbing the small pot of Floo powder as he went. He took a small pinch in his fingers and placed the pot back on its perch. Clenching the Elder Wand tight in his other fist, Harry threw down the powder and called out "The Burrow!". Green flames sprung up from the grate and engulfed him, before sending him tumbling down into the Floo network.

...

Harry stumbled out of the Weasley's fireplace a few seconds later, covered from head to toe in black soot. He collapsed into a pile on the kitchen floor of the Burrow – his six years experience of using the Floo not doing anything to make his entrance any more graceful. His ungainly entry startled Mrs. Weasley and Hermione, who were sat at the table, eating breakfast. They both shot up from their seats as soon as he arrived.

"Harry!" They cried in unison. Hermione swiftly moved over to help him up, and withdrew her wand to perform a spell that vanished the soot from his clothes.

"What are you doing here so early? Your meal only starts at four!" Mrs. Weasley said, wringing her hands worriedly.

"I'm more interested in how you got here. What's going on Harry?" Hermione enquired, shooting him a suspicious look.

Harry extended his hand and showed them the wand that lay there. "I think my magic has come back."

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley gasped and stared at him.

"How?" Hermione questioned faintly.

Harry shrugged. "No idea. But it might have something to do with the fact that I got the Elder Wand back."

The two women gasped again and peered more closely at the wand in his hand. After a few seconds, Mrs. Weasley seemed to regain herself and bustled off the far side of the kitchen.

"I'll make us some tea." She said in a slightly squeaky voice.

...

Harry soon found himself sat on a chair around the Weasley's crowded kitchen table, clutching a mug of hot tea. The rest of the family had awakened and arrived at the table to greet Harry, before moving on to devour the magnificent breakfast Mrs. Weasley had prepared. After a few minutes of frenzied eating and a brief explanation of the morning's events, the family settled down to discuss Harry's new problem.

"So why do you think your magic has come back then?" Ron asked from his seat next to Harry.

"I really don't know. Maybe it's something to do with what the healer said about being around a magical place or something?" Harry answered.

Hermione leant in slightly from her place at the far end of the table, where she had been sat quietly, obviously lost in thought, ever since the rest of the family had descended.

"I think it's something to do with the wand, Harry. I mean you couldn't use a wand to cast spells yesterday when the healer came to check on you." Hermione said.

"Maybe I just needed one more day in order to get it back. Or maybe it's something to do with the fact that it's my birthday today." Harry argued, trying to find an explanation that wouldn't require him to use a wand nicknamed 'the Deathstick' for the rest of his life.

"No, I really think it is the wand. I mean, it is the most powerful wand in existence, and you are its true owner. Maybe the extremely high power levels of the wand managed to balance out your extremely low power levels somehow." Hermione theorised.

"Hey!" Harry protested indignantly.

"Sorry, mate, but you are basically a squib." Ron sniggered next to him.

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley cried, and Ron looked down at the table quickly.

"Anyway, I don't know about the whole wand thing Hermione. I really think that it's something to do with my birthday, or staying at a magical place. "Harry objected.

Hermione shot him a sharp look in reply.

"I mean, I could probably still do magic if I just used a different wand." Harry said innocently, trying not to incur Hermione's considerable temper.

Hermione frowned, before reaching into her pocket to extract her wand. She handed it to Harry across the table, and then leaned back in her chair. "Use mine then. What spell was it you did this morning?"

"Err...the Patronus charm." Harry said in a small voice.

"Well off you go then." Hermione said with a slightly menacing look on her face.

"Oh, okay. Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled, and waved the wand in the familiar pattern.

After a few seconds of nothing happening, Harry lowered his arm and looked down sheepishly at the table. Hermione was looking victorious now.

"Well that rules that out, doesn't it? Okay, now try it with the Elder Wand, Harry." Hermione said with a smug smile.

Harry sighed, handed the wand back to Hermione and picked up the Elder Wand. He began wracking his brain for a happy memory, but the only thing that came to mind was the night he had just spent with Malfoy. He tried valiantly to find a different memory, but after being assaulted by several different images featuring himself and the blonde entangled together, he decided to just go with it.

"Expecto Patronum!" He proclaimed once more. This time, a silvery mist immediately began seeping out of the end of the wand and formed a shadowy shape.

However, the patronus that began to amble up and down the table wasn't the familiar form of a stag.

It was a cat.

A white, aristocratic- looking cat.

'Oh shit' Harry thought, as he watched the cat sit down and begin grooming itself elegantly.

"Err, Harry..?" Ron said in a high, faltering voice, looking intently at the cat.

"It wasn't like that this morning!" Harry stammered, trying to defend himself. The cat paused in its grooming and shot Harry an almost disdainful look, before jumping off the table and fading out of existence.

"Harry," Hermione said in a gentle voice, "What happened to your patronus?"

"I don't know. Like I said, it was a stag this morning and now it's..." Harry's voice trailed off.

"A cat." Ron finished in a faint voice.

"Yeah." Harry said awkwardly, tugging at the neck of his shirt, which suddenly felt rather tight.

Hermione, who had been staring at Harry intently, as if he was a problem she could solve, spoke up suddenly."What's that on your neck, Harry?"

'Oh shit.'