This is my entry for the Hinny FicFest 2021 hosted by clarensjoy. Thank you for organising it! There were so many lovely prompts to choose from and originally I wanted to write something really angsty for this one, but then decided to approach this in a much more lighthearted way.
Thank you accio-broom for beta-reading! You are the best!
Prompt 2: Ginny gets sick and won't admit it
Ginny walked out of St. Mungo's with a limp and a glare that would put Hermione's cat Crookshanks to shame. The world was against her these last couple of days; she just knew it.
It had started with a horrendous loss against a team the Harpies were positive they would never lose to; the Chudley Cannons. The orange excuse of a professional Quidditch Team had beat them, and it wasn't even a close match. They lost 590 to 120—an absolute disaster.
Of course, her insufferable brother had lost his mind, along with all the other Cannon fans in the stands. It had been the first time the Cannons won in what must've been years, which resulted in the players not even hearing the referee's whistle, signalling the end of the game.
Ginny had given Ron the tickets to this match as a birthday present. As long as the Cannons lost every single time, and she could greet her brother with a smug grin, she was okay with Ron switching his Harpies jersey with her number on it to his orange Cannon one. This time though, Ginny found it nothing short of traitorous, and even her family, including Harry, had the gal to congratulate Ron. Her brother would make sure she would never forget this day, no matter how many times the Harpies would kick their arses in the future.
The Harpies, quite demoralised from their previous match, had shown up at training the next day, as usual. After a pep talk by their coach, the team had pepped up, flying different manoeuvres and acting out the strategies for their game against Ballycastle the next day.
Enjoying the wind on her face, as well as the feeling that only flying so high up in the air could provide, Ginny had forgotten all about their loss and solely concentrated on getting the Quaffle inside one of the three loops from every possible angle. She had been so engaged in training that she noticed the dangerous wheezing of the Bludger one second too late. Although she could dive away to avoid getting hit in the face, the ball collided with her left ankle, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on a stretcher as a medi-wizard treated her injury.
A broken ankle usually could be treated by the team's healers, but the young man insisted on transferring her to the hospital as he suspected a more complicated fracture. And because it was Ginny's lucky week, he had been right eventually.
The healer who treated her advised Ginny not to play against Ballycastle as the Skele-gro would cause a great deal of pain, and painkillers were strictly forbidden at Quidditch matches, especially pain-relief potion which had strong side effects, and therefore, were a danger to herself and others while on a broom.
Against the healer's strongest protests, Ginny refused the skele-gro and asked the middle-aged woman to stabilize her ankle and give her some light painkillers that would wear off until tomorrow.
Ginny needed to play tomorrow. A few days ago, Oliver had tipped her off that the national trainers would be watching the game against Ballycastle, and there was just no way she would pass this chance to show them that she was the right choice to play for England. Even if they only let her join as a reserve Chaser, it would be her ticket to play international Quidditch.
While the discussion with the healer had been annoying but without any chance for the St. Mungo's employee to change Ginny's mind, the real battle would be at home. If Harry got even the slightest hint about his wife's injury, a fight would break out, fitting these infuriating last two days.
Harry, usually being blissfully oblivious to most things, immediately noticed when something was up with Ginny. While most times, this little fact warmed her heart, it was rather unfortunate today. And ever since Harry joined the Aurors, he had become even more of a bloodhound when he sensed a secret.
Ginny was determined to try her best to appear normal when she carefully walked out of the fireplace and into the living room of Grimmauld Place. As she expected, Harry sat on the settee, reading the sports section of the Daily Prophet.
"Hey, Gin," Harry greeted her, looking up as she walked over to where he was sitting, "How was training? Did Rodgers let you off earlier today?"
The painkillers still in effect, Ginny leaned down to kiss her husband, carefully lifting her weight off her injured ankle. Kissing Harry always made her feel good, but after her dreadful day, it simply felt like heaven.
With one swift movement, Harry pulled her down with him on the settee. She cuddled up against his side, inhaling his scent as she trailed kisses down his neck. As their kisses became more heated, Harry rolled on top of her, and just as she was about to sigh because of the sweet friction, a pained whimper escaped her when Harry hit Ginny's foot with his leg.
He immediately jumped up, eyes going wide, and Ginny knew that she lost her little hiding game. Carefully sitting up, she waited until Harry crouched down in front of her, looking at her worried.
"Are you hurt? What's wrong with your foot?"
"Just a small accident at training today," Ginny tried to reassure him, "Nothing serious."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why does it still hurt then? Your medi-staff can heal most injuries in a heartbeat."
"I said I'm fine," Ginny said, cursing her bloody Weasley genes as she felt her ears turning red. As graceful as possible, she stood up, heading for the kitchen. Besides the fact that she didn't want to have this conversation, she was also hungry.
Of course, the conversation was far from over because Harry followed her into the kitchen, watching her with a raised eyebrow as Ginny made herself a sandwich. When she turned to face Harry, she tried to casually stand on her good foot, pretending her ankle wasn't throbbing in a more penetrant manner now. Obviously, the painkillers had already started to wear off.
"Why are you hiding this, Gin?" Harry asked, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, "Why didn't you just go to a healer?"
"Because they would give me skele-gro and a pain-relief potion, meaning I wouldn't be able to play tomorrow."
"So? Ginny, I know you are amazing, but I'm sure the Harpies can manage one match without you."
"Yes, they sure can," Ginny huffed in frustration, "But if I don't play, the scouts for the English national team possibly won't take me into consideration."
Harry stood up and walked over to his wife, leaning down to get on eye-level with her. "To quote your brother: Are you fucking mental?"
"It's my career, Harry! Playing for England is the dream, and I refuse to let this silly little injury get in the way."
Instead of commenting on this, he gently took Ginny's hand, leading her to sit on a chair. More out of discomfort because of her increasingly throbbing ankle than the willingness to sit down, Ginny complied anyway.
"This is far too dangerous, Ginny. You can't possibly hold yourself on a broom for-"
"This is not up for debate," Ginny interrupted him, her tone clipped and her face now red from anger, "I'll just grit my teeth long enough to play some of my best manoeuvres, and then I'll ask for a timeout and Rodgers will put me on the bench."
"And you think Rodgers will be alright with you playing injured? Or are you planning to hide it like you tried to hide it from me?"
"That's none of your business."
Harry sighed in frustration at her trademark Weasley-stubbornness but he took Ginny's hand anyway.
"Okay, let's put this into perspective, alright?" Ginny wanted to interrupt him, but Harry just kept talking. "You want to play in a game, most likely showing only a mediocre performance because of your broken ankle. Ginny, these scouts don't have to see you play in this particular game. They know exactly who you are and what you're capable of already. If you're not playing in this match, they'll watch you play in the next one. Assuming they want the very best for the national team, they'll sure enough not write you off because you couldn't make it to this match."
Harry could tell that Ginny's resolve was already crumbling, but he knew better than to stop here. "There are also your brothers, and more importantly, your mother. Molly will kill me if she learns you hurt yourself even more, despite me knowing of your injury."
"But I've been looking forward to this game for so long," Ginny sighed, frowning at the unfairness of it all.
"I know," Harry said, leaning forward a little to softly kiss her pouting lips, "But you can't play. It's not just dangerous for you, but also for your teammates and Ballycastle."
Harry's words destroyed every resolve Ginny still had standing. The last thing she would want is someone getting hurt because of her stubbornness, and certainly not her beloved Harpies.
"Since when are you the voice of reason." she groaned, letting her head fall against Harry's chest and draping her arms around his neck.
Harry took this opportunity to swoop her up into his arms before walking towards the fireplace.
"Let's get you to St. Mungo's then."
Ginny rolled her eyes, sighing at the prospect of the knowing look the healer will give her when she comes back.
Before Harry could floo over to the hospital, Ginny leaned up and placed a hot kiss against his throat.
"If I have to stay at home all day tomorrow, you better keep me company, Potter."
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