Story for Quidditch League Round 3

Prompts:

6: coated

10: picture

12: John Keats 'When I had fears'

Harry couldn't help but twitch away when Ginny gently touched his cheek. His eyes flitted to the floor, and he could feel the faintest blush working its way up his pale neck.

"Harry?" Ginny asked softly. How could he resist her voice? No. He had to.

"I'm sorry." Then he turned and walked away.

He already knew that she was watching him leave, her green eyes filled with sadness, her long ginger hair stuck to her damp forehead. He had never wanted to turn back so badly, to race towards her and sweep her up in his arms, to make her feel safe again.

He couldn't. He was contaminated.

But the baby?

The baby was better off without him.

And Ginny?

She was too.

The mental argument raged throughout the night, as Harry slowly made a cup of tea, and sipped it in his kitchen, looking out into the dark garden. Every now and then his hand twitched, slopping coffee down his front. How could it be coming so quickly? The Healers at St Mungo's had said it was fast, especially in his case, but it was only three weeks since the diagnosis. But before that, there had been incidents; dropping things and forgetting appointments. Harry had forgotten Ginny's first antenatal appointment, where she saw the ultrasound of their baby. He had been so excited, but he hadn't even remembered until Ginny came home, furious at him, clutching a tiny fuzzy picture of their future offspring. It was going to be a girl, and Harry hadn't even known.

Harry's mind was racing, and eventually he found a solution. He needed to write a letter. In case he lost control too soon. He needed to explain to Ginny, and the baby.

He got out a few pieces of parchment and started trying to compose the message.

'Dear Ginny and my baby,' He wrote, before crossing it out.

'Dear my loves,

I need to explain something to you. Something that will be difficult to explain.'

He crumpled this piece of paper up too, chucking it on the floor.

'Dear my loves,

I have Motor Neurone Disease. It is incurable.'

No. Too morbid.

'Dear my loves,

As a great poet once said 'When I have fears that I may cease to be, before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain'. And that is why I am writing this to you. So you'll understand. So you know that I didn't abandon you out of choice.

I have Motor Neurone Disease. It's a terminal disease. The Healers have given me potions that will make the transition painless, but they are only slowing down the inevitable. And that is why I left. I couldn't drag you into this mess; make you watch as I slowly die in front of you. It's not fair on you or the baby.'

Harry wanted to leave it at that, but there was more he needed to say.

I'm scared. I'm scared that soon I'll never see you again, and that you'll be distraught. I'm scared that soon I'll be gone, without a trace, with nobody to remember me. I'm scared of being alone.

I don't want you to be scared. You'll be better alone.

I love you.

Harry.'

Harry read it back, satisfied. Maybe now Ginny would be able to understand.

He folded the letter up, and put it into an envelope. Then he got out the seven bottles from the locked cupboard and carefully measured out how much he needed. He forced the concoctions down, the thick fiery liquid burning his throat. But instantly his head cleared, and he didn't feel like he was moving in slow motion.

By the time he had made another cup of tea, and eaten some toast, it was early in the morning. He had stayed up all night. But there weren't many of those left.

He knew the way to Ginny's house without thinking. He had been about to move in; he had even started packing up his things. They had painted the spare room pale yellow and decorated it with a cot and high chair and toys and baby-grows that Ginny hadn't been able to restrain herself from buying. And then finally Ginny persuaded him to get an appointment at St Mungo's, and his life changed forever.

Harry laid the envelope carefully on the doorstep of the little brick house he loved so much. He was just walking back down the path when the door swung open.

"Harry?" Called out the soft voice. Harry turned slowly to see the woman he loved standing in the threshold, silhouetted against the bright hall. Ginny was beautiful, with her distinctive hair and clear eyes and firm laugh. But she looked awful. Her mascara was run and her eyes were red and puffy, with large purple smudges against her pale skin. Her hair was matted into a messy bun, and she was still in the clothes she was wearing last night, her bump just obvious under the creased loose top.

Harry couldn't stand to see her broken.

She saw the envelope he had placed just moments before, and picked it up, her breath catching in her throat. Her nimble fingers gently teased the envelope open, and Harry watched as she tugged out the letter and started to read.

Silent tears slipped down Harry's cheeks as he watched Ginny read, her eyes flitting down the messy handwriting she could finally decipher. Her hand flew to her mouth when she reached the end. Then her eyes flicked up to meet Harry's. He waited for the questions, and closed his eyes. How could he hurt someone he loved this much?

Instead he felt her skin against his, and she was tugging him close, her hug warm against his pale skin. Harry could feel the baby pushed between them, and he gently touched her stomach. Suddenly he felt the faintest fluttering. The baby was kicking. A small smile grew on his face, and Ginny mirrored it.

"Oh Harry?" She said questioningly, clasping her hands over his as they felt the baby kicking together.

"I'm sorry." Harry said. This was all he could say. "I thought it would be easier."

"I still love you." Ginny said fiercely, her feisty spirit coming through. "And that love will last forever. You're not leaving. We can get through this together."

It was too much effort to argue, too much effort to resist. It was easier just to be lead inside. He felt himself being warmed up, and her soft touch. He was sat down in the kitchen, and the smell of bacon met his nose as he watched the blur of red move round the room, nimbly cooking bacon and pancakes and sprinkling them with maple syrup, just like she had on the first morning of their honeymoon. Soon the sweet blended with the salty was in his mouth, and Ginny was opposite him. Harry felt a tear escape his eye. There was so much to say.

Time passed and Harry moved in with Ginny. He sold his flat and together they painted their bedroom gold, for a new start. Then they installed a stair lift, for Harry found it harder and harder to remain in control, and sometimes his muscles shook uncontrollably. Everyday Ginny used the Floo Network to check up on Harry from work, and to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. By the time Ginny left work for maternity leave, Harry spent most of his time in his wheelchair. It was a struggle together – Ginny was now eight months pregnant and Harry so weak he struggled to hold a book up, but they managed together, with the help of a young Muggle girl from across the street, though they had to be careful to stash their wands and potion books out of the way.

Ginny was due at Christmas, but she still invited Ron and Hermione, George, Dudley and his boyfriend Sam. Although Ron had visited once, and Ginny had told everyone about Harry's condition, they were still visibly shocked when they came. Harry was set up in the living room, sitting comfortably in his large armchair. But he struggled to speak, and Ginny had to lift his cup to his mouth so he could sip the Firewhiskey. For Dudley, especially, who still remembered Harry when he was tough and stuck up for himself in a family full of hatred. When everyone else had gone to look at the Christmas lights, Dudley stayed, to talk to Harry.

"I'm sorry Harry." He said sitting close to Harry in the scratchy jumper Ginny had knitted him. "I know I've said it before, but I'm just sorry things had to end up like this. You've done so many incredible things in your life. You don't deserve this."

Harry mumbled something, a tiny drop of saliva escaping down his chin.

"Sam and me. We're getting married." Dudley said, tears in his eyes, despite the tough boy facade he had put up for all these years. "He proposed to me two weeks ago and I said yes. We're getting married on New Year's Eve. I want you to be there."

They both knew this was unlikely.

"I want you to be my best man. I want you to see Dad and Mum again and try and forgive them. And Sam and I have been thinking. We're going to adopt a child. We've already decided on a name. We're going to call him Harry."

Harry's eyes were closed and his breathing had slowed, but his mouth twitched into the best smile he had.

"Try and stay Harry." Dudley said. "It may not feel like it but there's so much you've got to see."

Harry's eyes flickered open and he stared at Dudley, his childhood tormentor and now his adult confidante.

Suddenly the front door opened to the sound of chatter, and the moment was lost.

Christmas was finally over, and the guests had gone. Ginny watched as Harry slowly deteriorated. A Healer visited their house every day, one time bringing a new potion, which meant Harry could eat on his own again and use limited speech. But Ginny was warned it was a short term measure.

Dudley's wedding happened, at the register office. Harry sat at the back of the office, tears slipping uncontrollably down his cheeks as he watched his cousin finally meet the love of his life. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were there. It was easy to tell that they hadn't changed, but they greeted Harry cordially, though without an apology.

Three days later Ginny went into labour. Calmly she packed her bags, got one of their neighbours to look after Harry, and went via the Floo Network to St Mungo's. Harry was so frustrated he couldn't go with her. It was awful waiting, not knowing what was going on. Harry had heard so much about complications at birth.

Finally, at around eight in the morning, Ginny returned, though not by Floo network. Arthur Weasley had driven her home, and she staggered in, exhausted. Immediately she brought the baby to Harry.

"I was trying to think of a name." Ginny said. "How about Lily?"

Harry gave a small nod, and watched as Ginny placed the tiny baby in his weak arms. He looked down at the perfect human being below him, with Ginny's nose and face, but Harry's green eyes and already his dark hair. And he knew there was still so much to live for.