Harry smiled, despite himself, and gave her hand a little squeeze. Very gently, because she was obviously in pain; he didn't want to add to it. Not that squeezing her hand would come anywhere near the pain he'd have caused if he'd died. For the first time since it had happened, he allowed himself to feel really, truly glad to be alive.
He needed to see a healer, too, but he wasn't going anywhere, not yet. "I suppose I deserve that," he acknowledged, knowing they didn't really mean it. Or that they did, but that they meant it because they cared about him, were glad that he hadn't died. He'd probably get worse for it later, he knew, but that was alright - because there was going to be a later. For him, at least. He still didn't know how much had been lost.