The Harry Games

by lilyevansJan30

Against his better judgment, Harry agrees to woo his girlfriend for charity. Unfortunately, his better judgment was right.

12. Chapter Ten: Eat This, Drink That

Eat This, Drink That

A/N: I have many things to be thankful for, but as far as this chapter goes, I'm thankful for the entire Ginny Lovers Discord, but especially my sprinting buddies MagicGirlInAMuggleWorld, TheWordsInMyHead, MattixAffiliate, HazzaP, Deadwoodpecker, and Mousewords. Also grateful for Melindaleo for reading the first half of the chapter and telling me it didn't raise her anxiety too much, and Deadfish37 for being a great binge reader and reviewer of some of my older works and red_matter for being enthusiastic. There are a ton of others too, and I'm so thankful for all of you. As I was finishing this chapter yesterday I thought that it might need a trigger warning not to read while eating. So, proceed with caution.

The fan mail was relentless the week after the "Share Your Interest" article came out. Harry had mostly ignored it the first few weeks of the contest; the few letters he'd looked at were typical silliness from fans telling him how handsome he was or asking for autographs on body parts. Ginny had gotten her share of attention too, and Gwenog was pleased with the uptick in interest in the Harpies. But as the quirks and then dangers of the third edition had revealed itself, the volume and tone of many of the letters had changed, and not for the better. Now all of Harry and Ginny's mail was directed to the Auror office, where it was first screened for curses before being opened and reviewed by a team of trainees who put aside anything even slightly questionable to be investigated by the senior team working on the case. Harry insisted on looking over every suspicious letter himself and now he cringed, remembering a particularly explicit one that the Aurors were following up on right now. His movement caused Ginny to stir next to him. She was almost completely recovered from her experience at the party, but when Harry had suggested a nap, she hadn't protested. Now her eyes fluttered.

"Harry?" she mumbled, reaching for him. "Everything okay?"

Harry scooted even closer. "Yes, fine," he said quickly. "Sorry I woke you."

Ginny opened her eyes fully. "I've slept enough," she said. "And you don't sound at all convincing that everything is fine." She pushed herself into a sitting position and leaned back against the pillows.

Harry sighed. "Just thinking about some of the letters," he admitted. "There was one that detailed exactly how much the writer would enjoy the pain of being inside that spell with you - while being inside you at the same time. And which parts of his body he'd enjoy feeling that pain on the most."

Ginny shuddered. "I know there are people who enjoy mixing pain with their pleasure," she said. "But having experienced that spell I can't imagine what anyone could find sexy or pleasurable about it."

"There are some sick people in the world," said Harry. "I just wish we hadn't been the reason so many of them have decided start up a correspondence." He hooked his leg over hers under the blankets. "The Aurors are nearly certain that most of them are completely harmless and not connected to the case, but we're checking them out anyway."

Ginny moved a hand under the blankets as well, and found one of the places that her and Harry's skin met. She stroked, and he groaned. "Let's not think about anyone else for a bit," she said softly. "I'd rather take advantage of the fact that I'm finally feeling up to a bit of athletic activity again."

Harry moved his hand to join Ginny's, liking what he found. "I can feel that," he said. "As can you, I assume."

"More every second," said Ginny solemnly. She twisted sideways. "No one's coming over, are they? I know we still haven't read Chapter Ten."

Harry put a gentle finger across her lips. "No talking about Chapter Ten, or any of the other chapters," he said. "No talking about the contest, or the magazine, or fan mail, or anything else that doesn't concern how much I want you to keep touching me like that, and how much I want to return the favor." He brushed a thumb across her cheek. "I love you, and I've missed making love with you."

"I love you too," said Ginny. "And I'd like to make love at least twice today, if you think you can manage it."

Harry laughed and turned to balance himself above her. "Consider it done," he said.

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Harry made good on his word, even managing to tease a third orgasm out of Ginny when they showered later that day. It was a good thing too, because he certainly wasn't laughing later when they finally sat down at the kitchen table to open up Twelve Ways to Chapter 10. He'd known the chapter would require him to cook for Ginny, and before the curse had revealed itself, it was a chapter he'd been looking particularly forward to fulfilling.

Although he didn't talk about it much, Harry had first begun to cook before he'd even heard of wizards or Hogwarts or magic. His Aunt Petunia had often corralled him into helping in the kitchen, putting him to work chopping and mixing and cleaning up while she fawned over Dudley and barked orders at Harry from the sitting room. He'd actually protested this particular chore less that most of the others his aunt and uncle dreamed up, as there were sometimes opportunities for Harry to nick some of the food while he was preparing it. And that was a good thing too, as Harry's assistance in the kitchen rarely translated into his being allowed to sit down and eat whatever dish he'd spent so much time cooking.

He'd once made the mistake of mentioning that fact while at dinner at the Weasleys. For the next month, Harry hadn't been able to see his kitchen table or put anything in his ice box because they were both crammed with meals Ginny's mum sent over. After delighting all of his coworkers with the extras for a few days and inviting Ron over for dinner every night, he'd had to ask Mrs. Weasley to limit her generosity to once a week. When he'd first read through the table of contents for Twelve Ways, Harry had envisioned asking her to teach him to make some of Ginny's favorite dishes, after assuring her that he could never make them as well as she did, of course. But now that he'd read over what the chapter said, Harry knew that Mrs. Weasley would be the last person who could help him. He looked helplessly at Ginny.

"Asking Slughorn is probably forbidden, isn't it?"

Ginny nodded. "I expect so," she said. "At least I don't think we should risk it."

"I don't either," Harry agreed. He grimaced. "I wish I had the Prince's, I mean Snape's, book," he said. As far as Harry knew, it had burned in the Room of Requirement during the Battle for Hogwarts.

"Not sure you could use that either," Ginny said.

Harry rubbed at his eyes. "Every time I think it couldn't possibly get worse," he said. Lidia's comment of only three more weeks flashed through his mind. He shook his head. "Actually forget that. I did know; I expected it." He looked up at Ginny. "But how the hell am I supposed to poison you without killing you?"

For that was what Chapter Ten required. Harry had to cook Ginny a 'romantic meal', yes, but not just any meal. He had to purposely feed her something that he'd poisoned first. The chapter's illustration had been particularly discomforting - showing the wizard and witch sitting at a candlelit table that looked rather like the one from the chapter on dating. But now the wizard sat back and watched as the witch picked up a fork and took a large bite of something from her plate, almost immediately grabbing at her neck and writhing before falling out of her chair and going still. That was all bad enough, but Harry had focused just as carefully on the wizard, who jumped out of his chair when the witch fell over but then stood there and didn't do anything else until the scene started over again. Harry watched it at least a dozen times, trying to determine if there was even the slightest hint that the wizard intended - was allowed - to do something to save the witch, but over and over again, he merely watched.

"That doesn't mean that he can't help," Ginny said, watching the illustration with Harry. "Those little scenes are short, you know. "Maybe he was about to give her an antidote."

"Maybe," said Harry doubtfully. He thought hard. "Or maybe . . . hmm." He looked at Ginny. "I might have an idea."

Ginny gave him a smile. "I trust you, you know."

"You may not, when you hear what I want to do," he said. He grimaced. "Have you ever had food poisoning?"

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"That smells terrible." Fawn peered into the pot Harry was stirring and wrinkled her nose, stepping quickly away from the stove.

"Thanks, I think," said Harry.

"What is it?" asked Archer from where he was taking photos safely across the room. "It smells like old fish."

"That's exactly what it is," said Harry. "And some moldy vegetables; I aged them all with a spell and turned them into a stew."

"There's curdled milk in it too," said Ginny. "I thought that was particularly inspired of Harry." She flashed him a smile and Harry had to smile back. Despite the prospect of a rather unpleasant couple of hours, they were both pleased with plan. Food poisoning was definitely a type of poisoning, a healer at St. Mungo's had assured them, and Harry was relieved that he'd be able to get Ginny through the chapter relatively unscathed.

"And how do you expect Ginny to be able to eat enough of that - stew did you call it?- to get food poisoning?" asked Fawn. "I'm gagging just sitting in the same room with it."

"I charmed it to taste like treacle pudding," Harry said. "And we'll be wearing a Bubblenose charm when we eat it." He stirred the stew, which had taken on an unappealing grayish color that reminded him of Polyjuice.

"Can you do one of those spells on my nose now?" asked Fawn. "My eyes are starting to water." She rubbed at them and then looked at Harry. "Wait, did you say you were going to eat it too?"

Harry nodded resolutely. It was something he'd insisted on, and Ginny had eventually given in. "There isn't anything in the book that makes me think I can't," he said. "It just says I have to poison Ginny, not that I can't poison myself at the same time. It's not fair that she go through it alone; we'll take care of each other."

"Well that certainly sounds like true love," said Fawn. She flipped open her pad of parchment. "I hope you don't mind if I don't join you at the table when you eat."

"No offense taken," said Ginny. She handed Harry two large bowls. "Is it ready? I won't say I'm hungry, but I would like to get this over with."

"I have no idea if it's ready," said Harry. He dimmed the lights in the kitchen and lit a number of candles before spooning large portions of the "stew" into each bowl and joining Ginny at the table. They clinked spoons.

Ginny took a deep breath before dipping into her bowl. "Here goes nothing," she said.

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After a thoroughly miserable night, Harry shuffled weakly into the kitchen the next morning to find Ginny sitting at the table, huddled over a cup of tea. She looked up at him blearily. "Did it work?" she asked. "Because I can't do that again."

Harry collapsed into the chair next to her; his legs too shaky to hold him up anymore. "I don't know," he croaked, his voice rough. "But I agree. That was worse than I expected."

An hour after finishing dinner, when it became glaringly obvious how bad Harry's cooking had been, Fawn and Archer had departed to work on their article elsewhere and Harry and Ginny had escaped to separate bathrooms for what he'd hoped would be a short bout of intestinal distress before they could return to bed to recover. It clearly hadn't worked that way for either of them and now Harry felt as weak as a baby. He looked at Ginny's tea, marveling that she'd even had the strength to make it.

"Water's still hot," she said weakly. "You should try to drink something."

"I don't want to put anything in my mouth ever again," said Harry. He lay his head on the table and willed the room to stop spinning. "I'll help you upstairs in a minute and we can spend the rest of the week in bed," he mumbled.

"That sounds lovely," said Ginny. "Maybe by Thursday I'll be ready for some toast."

When the message came, it was a Patronus from Gawain and not an owl from Fawn, and Harry knew immediately that his plan to poison Ginny hadn't worked. He was just relieved that the information had waited a few hours before being delivered. It sounded like this time, Harry's failure hadn't been immediate. Fawn and Archer had written the article overnight and only begun experiencing trouble with their magic in the morning. Lidia had contacted the Aurors a little before noon when she'd discovered Fawn and Archer struggling over the final edits in one of the offices at Magical Monthly.

"It sounds like things went well with the writing for a while," Harry said to Ginny, sitting heavily back on the bed. He'd gotten up to Floo Gawain for more information, and when Lee and Lisa had joined in the four of them had ended up talking longer, discussing theories about the case and what Harry might do next. Although Harry's insides all seemed content to stay in place, the conversation had been exhausting and he didn't even try to protest when his boss suggested that Harry stay in bed to recuperate instead of coming into the Ministry that day.

"So when I was the most sick, you mean," said Ginny. She was still lying down but Harry was relieved to see a bit of color had returned to her cheeks. "Around midnight was when I began to wish for death."

Harry chuckled weakly. "Me too," he said. "And yet, it wasn't enough. They got the article finished and the photos added around 3 a.m and then went home to sleep. When Fawn came back to her office late morning to finalize the draft, she couldn't get her changes to stay put. Archer called Lidia and Lidia called the Aurors." He sighed and then punched a pillow in frustration. "Damn."

Ginny put her hand on his. "At least we got close, right?" She swallowed hard. "I can do it again. Maybe if you add more spoiled milk this time?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think - we don't think - it be food poisoning," he said. "If I'd read the chapter more carefully I think I would have realized that I have to use a real poison, but I was so relieved to think it would work with food I . . . I kind of rushed it." He shook his head. "I didn't even tell Robards what I'd planned or made sure someone was keeping an eye on Fawn and Archer. I was just so sure it would work." He let his head fall into his hands. "Fuck, that was stupid. After everything, I should have known better."

Ginny touched his cheek and gently pulled his hands away until Harry looked at her. "Not stupid," she said. "You've been going spare, trying to protect the rest of us. I'm not at all surprised that you jumped at the chance for an easy week." She grimaced slightly. "Well, easier week."

Harry shook his head. "As an Auror, I absolutely should have known better," he said. "We've known for weeks that the book is evolving. The chance of it suddenly backtracking is almost none." He rubbed his hand across his face. "I just wish we could figure out what its endgame is."

"To have you kill me, I assume." Ginny's voice was deceptively casual and Harry's head snapped up.

"What?" he said sharply.

Ginny looked almost surprised at his response. "It's okay Harry," she said gently. "I've known for a while what the point of all this is." She took his hand. "And I know that you won't let it happen. But you don't need to protect me from the truth. It's better if I know."

Harry shook his head. "I wouldn't have hidden that from you," he said. "But we - the Aurors I mean - we don't think that's the point of all this." He pulled Ginny into his lap.

"To be honest, there are much more direct ways to kill you; even to compel me to kill you," he said matter-of-factly. Only those who'd lived through and seen so much death could talk about it casually. Indeed, Ginny nodded, non-plussed.

"I guess I jumped to the most obvious," she said. "And to the thing that you'd want to keep from me."

Harry kissed her hair. "I'm not going to keep anything from you, unless I have to for the contest," he promised. "It just didn't occur to me to tell you that that isn't the reason."

Ginny turned her head and gave Harry a kiss on his cheek. "I know that," she said. "But I also know you. I figured you'd tell me how you intended to save my life once you figured it out." She stroked her fingers along the back of his hand. "Does it have something to do with taking your magic?"

Just then, Ron's Patronus dropped down in front of them to announce that he and Hermione were outside with a basket of food from the Burrow. Harry considered meeting them in the library but changed him mind as soon as he stood up, opting to return to bed and conjure chairs for them instead. After reluctantly taking a piece of bread Hermione pushed on him, Harry caught them up on what he and Ginny were talking about.

"I've been wondering too," admitted Ron. "But I didn't want to bother you about what's going on. It doesn't make sense for someone to have set up this elaborate contest as a means to get Ginny, does it?"

Harry shook his head. "It also doesn't make sense for it to be just about taking my magic," he said. "If that was the goal, why involve Fawn and Archer?" He looked at the roll in his hand and took a tentative bite. "This actually tastes good," he said.

"It's got a stomach potion baked into it," Ron explained. "One of mum's specialties."

"Well then give me one," said Ginny, reaching out. Ron threw her a roll, which she caught neatly. "At least I still have my skills," she remarked dryly.

Hermione leaned forward. "So then what is the point of the contest?" asked Hermione. "If it's not to hurt Ginny and not to take Harry's magic?"

"Or more precisely, what else it is about?" said Harry. "There has to be a connection between those things - Ginny, my magic, Fawn and Archer, the curse in the book. We just can't figure out how they all work together."

"Wait." Ron suddenly stood up. "I think . . ." he was quiet for a moment, eyes scrunched together before he relaxed and shook his head. "I almost had something," he said. "I know there's a connection between . . . something. Damn." He looked at them all. "I'll keep thinking about it."

"Thanks," said Harry. "And I'll keep letting you know what the Aurors are thinking; maybe it will jog your memory."

Ron still looked frustrated. "Yeah," he said distractedly. "I just wish . . . yeah."

"So what's next?" asked Hermione practically. "Since the food poisoning didn't work."

Harry appreciated her directness. "I'm still figuring that out," he said, glancing quickly at Ginny.

"You could give her that poison I got from Slughorn," said Ron. "And have a Bezoar nearby."

"Well now I can't," huffed Harry.

"Harry doesn't want to tell me anything about how he's going to poison me,"said Ginny with the same matter-of-factness she'd shown earlier. "The Aurors think the book will be satisfied easier the less I know about it."

"Well it can't be a complete surprise, she knows it's coming at some point in the next four days," said Ron. "Unless you plan to poison her in her sleep?"

Harry shook his head. "No, of course not," he said. "And to be honest, I don't have my plan completely solidified, so I'd rather not say anything at all in front of Ginny until I do." He gave Ron a pointed look.

Ron looked sheepish. "Sorry, mate," he said.

In truth, what Harry hadn't wanted to admit to Ginny was that he didn't really have a plan yet at all. He's been telling her the truth that he and the other Aurors didn't think the purpose of the cursed book was to cause harm to Ginny. At least, that wasn't the primary purpose. No one had been able to say with complete certainty that Ginny was not meant to be harmed and as long as there was a chance that Ginny could be injured, Harry was going to act in front of her as though he had everything under control to keep that from happening.

". . . banner in Diagon Alley?" Ron's voice conveyed disgust and Harry pulled out of his own thoughts.

"What?" he asked. "What banner?"

"An advertisement of sorts," said Ron. Stretched all the way from the Leaky to that Apothecary near Wheezes. It tells everyone to join in reading about The Harry Games." He grimaced. "George called Magical Monthly to get it taken down because it keeps shooting off sparks that interfere with our front window displays, but apparently they aren't responsible for it. Someone from the Leaky tried to take it down and couldn't - it has a temporary sticking charm on it and won't budge."

"And no one knows who paid for it or put it up?" Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged. "Apparently not," he said. "Maybe the Aurors are looking into it?"

"Maybe," said Harry. "But it's likely nothing - something related to the groups betting on the contest or something like that. The people who cursed my book probably won't be wanting to call attention to themselves."

"Good point," said Ron. "It could even be one of the charities, I suppose. They're making a ton of money off of all this."

"Mmmhmm," said Harry vaguely. NewMagic hadn't written him again and as far as he knew, his behavior the past two weeks hadn't caused them any additional reason for concern. Poisoning Ginny was another matter entirely though. He rubbed his hand through his hair and yawned. "Umm, do you all mind if I ask you to leave?" I think I need another nap before I back to full form again."

Ron chuckled. "No worries; Ginny's been asleep there for ten minutes."

Harry looked down. He didn't know when, but Ginny had scrunched down into the pillows at some point and was now breathing evenly as she napped. He smiled fondly at the relaxation on her face, a stark difference from the previous night. Ron and Hermione waved goodbye before quietly leaving the room. Harry dimmed the lights and sunk into the pillows himself. But unlike his girlfriend, he stayed awake thinking and planning for a long time.

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"I think I should make all your tea and things for the rest of this week." Harry set the tray he'd just prepared on the table next to Ginny's side of the bed. She'd awoken from her nap and declared herself ready for tea and a light snack, which Harry had immediately gotten up to make. Now she was nibbling on a piece of toast and waiting for him to continue.

"I mean, this tea is fine," he said, gesturing at her cup. "And you know that at some point, I'm going to have to give you something to drink that's, not so fine. I think it might help with everything if you don't know exactly when that's going to be."

Ginny nodded. "I trust you," she said. "I'm glad you finally figured everything out."

"How did you know that?" Harry asked. "When Ron and Hermione left I still didn't have a clue."

"I know," she said. "When I woke up the tightness around your mouth was gone." She reached out and gently brushed across Harry's lips with her finger. "It's only there when you have a problem you're trying to work out and don't want me to know." Her fingers traveled to the back of Harry's neck.

He scooted closer to her. "So what you're saying is that I let you know anyway, even when I don't mean to?" He moved his own hand to Ginny's waist.

"That is what I mean, yes," she said. She snuggled into Harry's chest. "You'll never get anything by me."

Harry chuckled softly. "That's good to know, not that I ever would," he said.

"I know that too," said Ginny with a smirk. She pulled his face down to meet hers. "I'm glad we're feeling better," she said. "Please don't ever cook fish for me again."

Harry shuddered involuntarily. "Don't worry about that," he said solemnly, leaning in for a kiss.

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"Harry wants us there at half-four tomorrow." Fawn settled down next to Archer on the sofa in his flat. He reached an arm around her and she snuggled into his side. "He'll give Ginny the poisoned tea just before that; if we show up too early it might tip her off."

"So I'll be able to photograph him saving her?"

"That's the plan," agreed Fawn. She shivered. "I really hate this, waiting every week to see if we're going to lose our magic over something that's not our fault."

Archer kissed her. "It's not Harry's fault either," he pointed out. "And after this is all over, you're going to have magazines and newspapers falling all over themselves to get you to write for them. How many people can say that they've had an up close and personal view into the very private life of Harry Potter?"

Fawn pushed Archer playfully away. "Stop, you make me sound like Rita Skeeter," she said with a shiver. "You know, I never believed all that crap she wrote, as if she and Harry were practically joined at the hip. But now that I know the truth about Harry, my tiny bit of respect for her as a writer has disappeared completely."

Archer smiled. "And that's why I'm not worried," he said. "If there's anyone who can get all of us out of this mess, it's Harry." He shook his head. "I was at Hogwarts when Voldemort tried to kill him the first time; who would have thought that the stories were true?" He looked at Fawn. "Not only is Harry going to get out of this mess, he's going to get all four of us out of it. He won't leave us behind, no matter how much he loves Ginny."

"I know," said Fawn. "I didn't believe it at first, but you're right. I fear it's not going to be pretty though."

"So what exactly is Harry's plan?"

Fawn sighed. "There's a poisonous plant that hurt Ginny before when it was added to a lotion the Harpies used; it impaired her ability to fly, or something like that."

Archer nodded. "I remember. I was shooting for Quidditch Today when she almost fell off her broom in that game against Tutshill. So Harry's going to put that lotion on her again?"

Fawn shook her head. "No. He's going to put some of the plant in her tea. I guess he still has some of the antidote Ginny took last time but she doesn't know that. Harry was just waiting to hear back from a friend of his about the amount of antidote to give her."

"That sounds like a solid plan," agreed Archer. He kissed Fawn again. "And you know," he said slowly, working his way down to her jaw. "If it wasn't for this contest, you and I never would have met."

Fawn made a small sound of agreement before tilting her head back to give Archer better access. "I'm thankful for that," she said.

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The tea was sitting on the kitchen counter, steam still rising from the cup in pretty swirls. Ginny felt a jolt of nerves at the sight. So this was why she hadn't been able to find Harry. They'd napped together again and when she'd woken up, Harry had been gone. She looked again at the tea, and the small plate of biscuits, and then around the kitchen, wondering how Harry had disillusioned himself and how far away he was. She smiled despite everything, imagining the internal war Harry had likely had with himself, wanting to be close to her as possible but at the same time, not wanting to see the moment when Ginny actually drank the poison.

It was very quiet in the kitchen, but Ginny was comforted nonetheless, knowing that Harry was here watching her. She picked up the cup and sniffed. It was't unpleasant, the smell was floral and woodsy and rather familiar. Much better than that horrible fish stew, whose odor had permeated even the charms they'd worn. The cup was warm in her hand but not too hot; she'd be able to take a big sip right off.

And after one final glance around a kitchen and a quiet, "I love you, Harry," that's just what Ginny did, finishing almost half the cup of tea in big swallows. She stopped to catch her breath before finishing the rest, but something seemed to be wrong with her hands, and then her arms. She couldn't lift the cup back to her lips and then she couldn't hold the cup at all; it slipped out of her hands and smashed on the floor, shards of china and tea splattering everywhere.

Ginny didn't notice. She tried to stumble to the nearby chair but her knees buckled and instead she grabbed onto the counter to stay upright. "Harry . . . " she muttered. He should be here by now; he must be seeing this.

Her hands slipped off the counter, pulling the plate of biscuits down with her when she fell, another thing to smash on the floor. She hit her head on the side of the table but was barely aware of the pain as numbness overtook her body. It was getting hard to breathe. It was getting dark. Ginny just wanted to sleep some more.

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Harry was talking to Fawn and Archer in the library Floo when he heard a crash from the kitchen. He looked towards the noise and then sighed. "Something broke; I hope it's not that mouse Kreacher hasn't been able to catch," he said. "I'm sorry about the change in plans; I should have heard from my friend Neville by now about the right amount of antidote." Harry held up a small glass vial. "I assume she'll need more of it, but I want to get it right so she doesn't suffer too much. It was tough for her last time, dealing with the feeling of her muscles not working. I'll flop again when I know what time you should come."

As Harry closed the Floo connection, he heard a second crash and almost immediately a louder thump.

"What the . . .?" Harry jumped up from the fireplace. "Ginny?" he called up the stairs. She'd been sound asleep when he'd slipped out of bed to contact Neville again about the antidote, and then made the tea, putting a carefully measured amount of the crushed up arctic ivy into the cup before setting a warming charm on it and Floo-calling Fawn and Archer to tell them to come later. Harry assumed Neville'd respond soon; it wasn't like him to ignore a message. Harry himself was going to be standing under his cloak in the pantry when Ginny drank the tea. It was close enough so he could be there immediately to administer the antidote, but far enough that he didn't have to see her actually take the poison.

The first thing Harry saw when he walked into the kitchen was that the tea and plate of biscuits were no longer on the counter. He didn't know what hit his senses next, the bubbling gurgle from somewhere at his feet or the sight of Ginny, face gray and body vibrating lightly, curled up on the ground amidst shards of glass and crumbs of her favorite cookies.

With a cry, Harry fell to the ground. "No Ginny, I wasn't ready," he stuttered. He rolled her roughly onto her back, noting how stiff her muscles felt. It was a lot worse than when she'd used the plant topically on her skin and Harry felt a renewed thrum of fear. Ginny's eyes were open and staring, moving rapidly left and right, but no matter how many times Harry shook her or waved his hand in front of her face, Ginny didn't show any recognition.

"Guhhh," the choking sound that burbled from Ginny was horrible. Harry grabbed the vial of antidote and pulled it open; the proper amount didn't matter now. Ginny's jaw was nearly too stiff to open. Harry shoved the bottle far back into her throat, unsure she'd even be able to swallow it. He rocked her head from side to side, barely aware that he was talking to her at the same time.

"Come on Ginny, come on. Here's the antidote. Just swallow a little bit for me and you'll feel better right away. Remember last time? It works fast. You just have to drink it." He shook her a little harder and she gasped as if trying to suck in air that wouldn't move into her lungs. Some of the red liquid dribbled out the side of Ginny's mouth and down her chin. Harry frantically tried to stop it, pushing the drops back towards her lips.

"No no no no," he chanted. The bottle was empty; there had been more than twice in it than what Ginny had needed to take the last time. He couldn't tell if she'd swallowed any of it. More dribbled out of her mouth, now too stiff for Harry to even force it closed.

Harry grabbed his wand. "Accio bezoar!" he screamed, not even sure he had one of the pellets in Grimmauld Place. He hadn't thought he'd need one, had relied on being able to get the proper antidote to the poisonous plant. Ginny's eyes had stopped moving and now stared at a fixed point on the ceiling. The air she was still trying to pull into her lungs seemed like less and less with every tortured breath. Harry pulled her into his lap.

"I love you," he said. "I love you so much, Ginny." He wasn't aware of the tears flowing on his cheeks as Ginny grew even more stiff and still in his arms. After all his planning and care and promises, he'd failed. Ginny was going to die, right here on the floor of the kitchen. Harry kissed her forehead and then her hands, which were curled into tight fists up against her chest. He rocked her back and forth, mind completely blank. He didn't see the fireplace across the kitchen flare suddenly green or notice a tall figure step out of it and rush over.

Someone was trying to take Ginny from him; Harry wouldn't let them. He tightened his grip against the insistent tugging. "No," he said to his unseen assailant. "You can't have her yet."

"Harry you have to let go. I have the proper antidote but she needs to take it right now.." The tugging grew more insistent. Harry loosened his grip and Ginny slid off his lap and onto the floor.

He didn't understand. Ginny was dead, or close to it. He stared emptily at the robe-covered back leaning over the still figure of Ginny. No, there were two robe-covered backs and they were keeping Harry from seeing Ginnys' face. He could only see her feet, splayed out one the floor and completely unmoving. She was barefoot, apparently she'd gotten up from her nap and come down to the kitchen without slippers. Her toes were gray and curled up like her fingers. Harry pulled Ginny's feet into her lap and rubbed across the bottom of her foot. She was very ticklish there; it always made her leg jerk when Harry did that. Once she'd even kicked him in the stomach on accident, when he'd tickled Ginny's foot. Now it was completely still.

"Harry? Harry, I need you to help me." A face was in his, shaking at his shoulders. "Do you know how much of the plant was in the tea Ginny drank?"

Harry looked up blearily, trying to focus on the words. The hands at his shoulders tightened. "It's important if we want to save Ginny."

The words penetrated. "Save Ginny?" he stuttered.

"Yes, I think we can save her, but we need to give her the proper dose of the the antidote." Neville was speaking calmly but there was panic beneath his words.

Harry shook his head. "I gave her the antidote," he said. "Didn't work." He gestured up at Ginny's still form. "Didn't work," he said again."

Neville made a frustrated sound. "That antidote only works for topical poisoning," he said. He held up a second bottle, bigger than the one Harry had, and the liquid inside was a shimmering blue. "This is for ingestion," he said. "I made it as soon as my message back to you didn't go through; I was trying to tell you not to use the old antidote but the Portkey wouldn't work." Neville turned back to the other figure. "Did the bolus stop the decline?"

Hannah Abbot nodded. "I think so; she's still breathing." Neville shook Harry again. "We gave her a bit of the right antidote to stop the poison from spreading, but we need to know how much she took so that I can give her the proper amount of this to counteract the poison. Do you know?"

Harry forced his sluggish brain to think. He'd made the tea carefully, measuring out how many of the leaves he'd crushed and steeped in the water because he knew it would be important for the antidote later. He just hadn't known that the antidote he had was the wrong one.

"I crushed up two full leaves," he said. "Pounded them and added them to two cups of boiling water along with lemon peel and rose hips for flavor." He looked dumbly around. But there's tea on the floor; I don't think she drank it all before she . . ." He couldn't go on.

But Neville was nodding and pouring out a careful measure of the blue liquid and handing it over the Hannah, who now had Ginny's head cradled in her lap. Harry thought that maybe he should be doing that, but he found himself unable to move.

"Doesn't matter that she didn't drink it all," said Neville. He looked over at Hannah. "One drop at a time to start," he said. "Let it flow down her throat since her swallow reflex is frozen."

"Got it," answered Hannah. "It seems to be going down."

Neville turned back to Harry. "It's the potency that she drank that matters, not the actual amount. Two full leaves is pretty potent, but I have enough antidote here to counter that. Do you know how long ago she drank it?"

Harry shook his head. Ginny's feet were still unmoving in his lap. "She was unconscious when I got here," he said. "She wasn't supposed to drink the tea yet; I'd just told Fawn and Archer that we had to push back the time because I hadn't heard from you yet about the proper amount of antidote." He looked up to where Hannah was still gently pouring liquid into Ginny's mouth. It wasn't dripping down her chin anymore, and Harry felt a slim hope. "How did you know to come?"

Neville grimaced. "I got your message," he said. "And I immediately sent one back via Portkey telling you the old antidote wouldn't work, and to wait for me to brew the proper one. But then the Portkey returned the message I'd sent you; it wouldn't go through. That's when I decided make the antidote anyway and bring it here, just in case." He smiled at his girlfriend. "Hannah helped me, that made the brewing go much faster."

Harry wasn't really listening; he was focused on the small feet he cradled in his lap. He'd been rubbing them the entire time and he thought, maybe, that they looked a little less gray, that the toes were starting to loosen a bit. A gurgling sound made him look up.

"That's all of it," Hannah said. She smiled at Harry. "She was swallowing on her own at the end," she said.

Harry moved up to Ginny's head and without asking, Hannah transferred her to Harry's lap. Ginny's eyes were closed now but he could see movement underneath the lids. Her mouth was still tight but the breaths coming through her lips were less strained and her color was fading from gray to a more comforting white. He leaned down to kiss her.

"Not on the lips," Neville said harshly. "You don't want to interrupt the antidote, or risk getting the poison either."

Harry nodded, brushing his lips across Ginny's forehead instead. She shuddered and opened her eyes. They searched wildly for a moment, back and forth, and then settled on Harry. He heard her give a little sigh. "Harry," she said thickly. "I knew you had a plan."

Harry crushed Ginny to him, trying to be mindful of the fact that her body was still stiff in his arms. "I did," he said. "And it failed completely." He watched Neville, who was now at the cooker stirring something in a pot. "Neville saved your life; he was absolutely brilliant. And Hannah."

"Just in the right place at the right time," said Neville modestly. He brought a steaming cup over and bent down. "Can you drink some of this? It will protect your insides from some of the side effects the antidote can cause."

"Yeah," said Ginny. Harry helped her sit up and lean against his chest. Her hand shook and he carefully raised the cup to her lips himself. She took a couple of tentative sips, and then sighed. "That's . . . that's good," she said. "Warm. I'm so cold."

Harry summoned a blanket and wrapped it around Ginny before lifting her off the floor and into his arms. He looked at Neville, who was carefully pouring the potions he'd brewed into small vials and talking to Hannah.

"Neville, I . . . " Harry's voice broke. "I don't know how . . ." he shook his head, shaking. "Ginny would have died" he said. "if not for you. She would have died." His shaking grew worse and tried to control it; Ginny still needed him.

"No," Neville said. "She wouldn't have died; the first antidote you gave her did slow the poison from spreading a little bit. You would have had time to get help before she . . . well, before she got worse."

Harry shook his head in disgust. "I didn't even think to have a bezoar here, just in case," he said. "I assumed the antidote would work; and that you just needed tell me the amount." They'd reached the library and Harry sat on the sofa with Ginny still in his lap. She snuggled into him, her stiff limbs melting further into Harry's body and easing some of his anxiety.

"Did you say something about your message not getting through?" she asked. "I remember hearing that. Ginny's leg twitched, flying out of the blanket before she tucked it back under again.

"Sorry," she said. "I can't help it."

"It will get better," Neville promised. He and Hannah had taken seats across from Harry and Ginny. Neville put the small bottles he'd been filling on the coffee table. "I think we should check with St. Mungo's," he said, "but they will probably want you to take a few more doses of both of these," he said, gesturing to the blue antidote and the other potion he'd brewed in the kitchen. "Just to be sure you're healing properly."

"Thank you," she said., sitting up in Harry's lap. "I mean, that's sounds like nothing, just to say 'thank you," but you know . . ."

Hannah grinned. "Like when people thank Harry for saving us all from Voldemort," she said.

Ginny gave a small snort and that sound more than anything helped Harry believe she was going to be okay. "You get it then," she said, leaning back.

"We do," Neville nodded. He looked at Harry. "I just don't understand why my message wouldn't go through. I got yours and immediately wrote out a response telling you to wait, and that I needed to brew a different antidote. I sent it back via Personal Product Portkey. At first I thought maybe you'd been delayed, so I started brewing the antidote anyway." He gestured at the table. "It takes a couple of hours to make. But then my Portkey came back."

"Came back?" asked Harry.

Hannah nodded. "It fell right onto the table, like our magazine arrives each week. We thought it was your response, telling us when you were going to give Ginny her tea. But instead it was the note Neville had sent you, telling you not to give her the poison yet."

"Did it look like it had been opened?" Harry asked sharply.

Neville looked at Hannah. "I'm not sure," he said, "did it?"

"I can't remember," she said. "I didn't pay attention. It was kind of crumpled but that might have been from so many Portkey trips."

"That's okay," said Harry. Neville and Hannah weren't Aurors, they wouldn't have thought to look for clues. It was much more important that Neville had thought to brew the antidote, and then that he'd known to bring it to Grimmauld Place.

He kissed Ginny's hair. "We need to call in a healer," he said apologetically. "Just to be sure."

She nodded. "I know," she said. "What do you think . . "

Her question was cut off by a shout from downstairs in the kitchen. "Oi, anyone here?"

Harry sat up, carefully moving Ginny to the side. "That sounds like Archer." His Auror senses went high alert. "I pushed back the time they were supposed to come here," he said. "To see Ginny when she . . . you know." The was the sound of stomping up the steps.

"They missed it," Ginny said, catching Harry's eye. Her mouth twisted in worry.

Before Harry could even start to reassure her, Fawn and Archer, both looking better than good, burst into the library.

"Harry? Did you not do it yet? I thought you wanted us here at 5." Fawn looked around the room.

Harry didn't bother to explain. "How are you both feeling?" he asked. "How's your magic?" He walked towards them and peered carefully into their eyes.

"Fine, we're fine," said Fawn. "Why?" She looked at Ginny. "So he hasn't poisoned you yet?"

Ginny caught Harry's eye and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was. But then Archer plucked one of the blue bottles off the table. "What's this?" he asked.

"It's the antidote to the poison Ginny took," said Hannah, before Harry could say anything.

"Wait, Ginny was already poisoned?" asked Fawn. "And we missed it?" She looked around and pulled out her pad of parchment while Archer began taking photos of the table.

"I got a couple of shots in the kitchen too," he said. "I wasn't sure what all the broken dishes were for, but they made a good shot." He pointed is camera at Ginny. "Do you mind?" he asked. "You're still looking rather pale."

Fawn began peppering Neville and Hannah with questions, scribbling notes frantically as they talked. Harry didn't know what to think.

"How are they okay? They didn't seem me get poisoned," whispered Ginny.

Harry mind was whirling. "We need to talk to the Auror team. And Bill," he said. "But first you need to see a healer. Fawn and Archer are fine and I want to make sure that you are too. Then we can talk about what happened."

A/N 2: So this is the second time I've written a poisoning and I have to admit I kind of like it. The combination of desperation and vulnerability is oddly satisfying to write. (The first scene is in More Than A Pretty Face, which is Bill/Fleur). Anyway, I wonder how much worse things can get . . .