By Sleek Belle
Chapter Three: Hope Has a Place
Author's Note: Wow, chapter 3. More to come! Sorry for all the mistakes, I try to catch them all. I think I need a good beta reader.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"Off with you all, this is a hospital wing, not a meeting hall," Madam Pomfrey said and shooed at the Gryffindor Quidditch team gathered around Ginny Weasley's bed. All the others filed out but Ron, Hermione and Harry remained.
"I'd like to stay if I can, at least until she wakes up," Harry spoke up, anger made his voice clipped. "This is my fault."
"Really, Harry, that's ridiculous," Hermione said, tutting under her breath. "How could you possibly be responsible for an out-of-control Bludger?"
"Yeah, it's just rotten luck. Ginny knows the dangers. She'll be her old self when she wakes up. Come on." Ron pulled at his arm. "When she's awake you'll call us, right?" This he said to Madam Pomfrey who nodded.
"That's right," her voice gentle. "I'll make certain you all know. Mending bones is painful and she'll need time and quiet." She bustled away to clean up the area where she had tended and then released Seamus and Natalie. They had sustained only minor injuries.
"I'm staying," Harry repeated as if he hadn't heard anything Ron, Hermione or Madam Pomfrey had said. "It's better if I stay, because if you make me leave I'm going to find Crabbe and Goyle, curse off their heads off and shove them up their—"
"Harry!" Hermione interrupted, her eyebrows rising into her hairline.
"Can I help?" Ron sniggered but then sobered. "Do you think one of them did it on purpose?"
"I don't think, I know." He told them about what he overheard and what Malfoy had said. "And you know, Ginny was unusually nervous before the game. She knew something, maybe she knew they were going after her."
Ron's eyebrows came together. "I did spend an usual amount of time whacking the Bludgers away from her."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I didn't see anything and I watched the whole match. You two are just making this up to start a fight."
"We don't have to make anything up to start a fight with Slytherin. Right, Harry?" Ron's face squeezed into an angry mask. He began to roll up the sleeves of his Quidditch uniform. "You can stay here, Harry, I'll finish 'em off for you."
Hermione laid a hand on his arm. "No. You're. Not. Not until we find out the truth. We really don't know if it was intentional and fighting will just get you detention."
"It'd be worth it." Ron looked crestfallen. "She ruins all the fun."
Hermione pursed her lips. "All you need to do is get near one of them and your body odor will kill them."
"Are you telling me I stink?" He sniffed an armpit and grimaced. "Bloody hell, I smell like a race horse."
"Ridden hard and put away wet," Hermione finished. She grabbed his arm. "Shower and lots of soap for you. Maybe it'll cool your temper.
"Alright. Will you scrub my back then?" Ron asked hopefully.
Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him. "You wish." Then to Harry. "Talk later, Harry," she said as she pulled Ron out of the room. "And you don't smell like a rose garden either."
Harry chuckled. He believed her, unlike Ron, and wasn't about to take a whiff. Those two always made him smile. He sobered when the door closed and looked at Ginny Weasley lying silently on the bed, her skin almost as white as the sheets. Her eyelashes made a brown-red fringe against her pale cheeks. Anger squeezed his stomach and he unconsciously clenched his hands. That Bludger was no accident, he was certain of it. There was no way he could prove it. His anger, having no where to go, just raged around inside him until the half-full glass of water on Ginny's bed table fell to the floor.
"Damn," Harry muttered and put the empty glass back on the table. He didn't have his wand with him so he went to look for something to mop up the water. There was a towel hanging over one of the chairs. He went down on his hands and knees, his Quidditch cape pooled around him, and began wiping up the water.
"Harry Potter, what are you doing?" a weak but inquisitive voice ask.
"Ginny!" he tried to get up and instead bumped his head on the night table, knocking over the glass again. "Ouch!" At least this time it was empty. He rubbed the back of his head and sat back on his knees, eye to eye with Ginny Weasley.
"How are you?"
"My side really hurts." Then her eyes grew wide. "We won, didn't we, Harry? Tell me we won."
"Spoken like a true Quidditch play, Gin," he said, stood and sat the bed next to her. He patted her arm. "We won."
She put her hand over his, and instead of pulling away, he left his hand on her arm as she settled back on the bed with a groan. "Good." Anger crossed her face. "Good! Serves Slytherin right, those cheating gits," she said more forcefully, then frowned. "I don't remember what happened after that."
"You took a Bludger in the side. Broke two ribs and cracked another. Scared us all."
"I fell?" She squeezed his hand.
"Almost fifty-feet. I caught you. Madam Hooch was too far away to do anything, and she didn't notice in time."
"Always there to rescue me, are you?" Her smile was forced.
He leaned down. Nothing was going to happen to Ginny Weasley ever if he could help it. "Count on it." And Harry realized he really meant it.
For the first time, he found himself looking at her, really looking since he last saw her as a ten-year old. She had just been Ginny for so long, red hair, a little scrawny, nothing other than his best friend's little sister, and a little annoying at times, but six years had past and she wasn't so little. She didn't have all the freckles that Ron did, her skin smooth and it looked soft. Was it? He wanted to find out. He raised a hand.
"Harry," she was saying. "Harry!"
Harry shook his head and blinked. What had he been doing? Mooning over Ginny Weasley? "Just a bit of wool gathering," he said, forcing a mild tone into his voice. He cleared his throat to hide his confusion and inwardly wondered at the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Ginny," he took her hand in both of his. "Do you remember anything before you were hit by the Bludger. Do you remember anything that… Goyle and Crabbe might have been doing?"
"I…." She blinked, opened her mouth again, then with that stubborn set to her mouth she shook her head. "No, I don't."
Harry wasn't entirely convinced. "Are you certain?"
Her mouth took on a more mutinous set. "Yes," she mumbled.
Harry sighed. He could tell she was hiding something. Maybe a little Vertiserum in her drink… NO! Harry halted that train of thought. Still… "I don't think that Bludger hit was an accident."
Her mouth opened and closed several times then she pressed her lips together. "That's silly. Of course it was."
Harry knew she was lying and sat back wondering what he could do to get her to trust him and tell him the truth. He realize then that he was sitting on his Quidditch cloak and it was uncomfortable—pulling down at his shoulders. He sat up a moment and moved it out of his way. Ginny scrunched up her nose and clapped a hand over her nose and mouth.
"Oh! Harry," Ginny mumbled through her hand.
"Yes, Gin." Maybe after all she was going to tell him something that could prove the Bludger hit wasn't an accident. He waited expectantly and leaned closer to her. "What?"
She scrunched up her nose. "You smell awful."
Surprised at her answer, he then smiled and chuckled.
"Uh-umm!" Someone cleared her voice.
Ginny's and Harry's heads swiveled toward the door where Madam Pomfrey had just appeared. She seemed interested in the little scene taking place in her hospital wing.
Flushing, Harry pulled his hand away from Ginny and realized suddenly how they must look, with him perched on her bed leaning over her protectively. But really, wasn't that exactly what he was doing? He stood and straightened his Quidditch robes. Ginny, her face as red as her hair, pulled the covers up around her chin.
Madam Pomfrey bustled over and peered down at Ginny. "Well good then, you're awake. I'd like to give you a light sleeping draught and keep you for the rest of the day and evening." She blinked at Harry. "And you, Mr. Potter, must leave now, you can fuss over Ginny later. Besides, dinner will be served soon. I'm certain you're hungry after that Quidditch match."
"Bye," Ginny mouthed silently. He felt her gaze on him all the way to the door.
At the door, Harry looked back. Ginny's attention was now focused on Madam Pomfrey. Seeing her on the hospital bed once again churned up a wave of anger. The leather Quidditch gauntlets on his hands squeaked as he tightened his fists. Anger flashing in his eyes, he decided then that dinner sounded like a great idea, but it wasn't the food that interested him. Without realizing what he was doing, he strode down the hall pounding one fist into the palm of the other hand, his Quidditch robes streaming out behind him, his boot steps hard against the stone flagging floors.
The only light in the hospital wing was that near Ginny Weasley's bed, the remainder of the room falling into darkness as the sun set. She dutifully drank down the sleeping draught as Madam Pomfrey directed, not that she had a choice. It didn't taste very good (what healing potion did?) but the comforting warmth spreading through her, soothed the pain and made her feel warm and comfy.
"Very good, dear. Now you sleep and you'll be better in the morning." Madam Pomfrey patted her arm and left.
The last image that floated across Ginny's mind before a deep sleep consumed her was Harry Potter sitting next to her, his warm hands over hers, his face close, concern in his extraordinary green eyes. Concern for her: Ginny Weasley. "Maybe there is hope."