A/N: So what will happen to Ginny? READ AND FIND OUT! Also…you can review as well…;-)
Ginny felt as if an anvil had been dropped on her head as she opened her eyes. There was a blinding sunlight streaming through the window opposite her bed in the hospital wing. Bleary-eyed though she was, it still sent searing pain through her brain to look into it.
She heard a soft snore to her right and forced her heavy head to move in the direction of the snorer. It was Harry, his head on his arms, which were about to fall off the edge of Ginny's cot. On her side table, Harry's homework was strewn. It was accompanied with flowers and candies that had probably been sent by Fransisca, Ron, Hermione, and of course, Harry. Ginny smiled weakly and placed her hand on Harry's head.
"Wha?" he asked, his eyes opening.
"Harry? What are you doing here? Why am I here? What day is it?" she asked in an almost normal voice.
"Saturday, you fainted, and I love you." Harry said, grinning at her.
"How long have I been here?" Ginny asked, yawning.
"Since yesterday. We've been pretty worried about you, Ginny. I mean to say, Fransisca, Ron, Hermione, and I have been worried about you." Harry said, patting Ginny's forehead.
"What happened?" Ginny asked, trying to force memories to come to mind.
"You collapsed. You haven't been looking well lately. I guess you're just stressed out. That's understandable." Harry told her.
Just then, Madam Pomfrey bustled in with an extreme look of anger on her face.
"All right Mr. Potter, I said you could stay for ten minutes longer. Then what do you do? You fall asleep! I swear, I poked you for a good twenty minutes. You could sleep through the Cruciatus Curse if it were put on you." she hissed.
"It has been put on me," Harry interjected, "and trust me, it'd be really hard to sleep through. I'm sorry Madam Pomfrey. I'll go now."
"Good. You can come back 'round noon."
Harry kissed Ginny good-bye and gathered up his homework.
"Nice to see that you've come round, Ms. Weasly." Madam Pomfrey said, setting a tray of porridge and sausage links in front of Ginny, who had lifted herself to a sitting position.
Ginny was not really hungry. In fact, she was quite queasy. But she ate the food anyway in terrible, forced gulps. She knew that if she did not eat, Madam Pomfrey would skin her.
"You do not look as if you eat regularly, dear. If you have something to tell me about…erm…any weight issues then I suggest you do so." Madam Pomfrey advised.
"I don't have a problem with eating. I guess I just can't get enough fuel to go on these days." Ginny sighed, taking another bite of sausage.
"Well, I'm going to put you on a hearty diet, my dear. I want to see you gain a little weight. Maybe that's what the problem is. You're too stressed to eat so your body has to burn up the fuel it has stored. Soon, there's not enough fuel and poof, you're here." Madam Pomfrey rambled.
"Thanks. I'm feeling better, so may I go?" Ginny asked.
"Heavens no. You will stay another night and relax. Now rest, dear. Don't you worry about homework, either. I have cleared it with your teachers. Just relax."
Ginny felt that there should be no need to feel as alarmed as she did. Madam Pomfrey was probably right. She was just stressed. But really, there was nothing to be stressed about. She had Harry as a boyfriend, classes weren't too strenuous, and she didn't have all that much homework. The only thing that would be a stressor would be S.P.E.W., which Hermione had made her join. Rarely, though, did she contribute to the organization.
So maybe Madam Pomfrey was wrong?
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"Glad to see you back on your feet, Ginny." Hermione said at breakfast Tuesday morning.
"Me too." Harry said, grinning and kissing her cheek.
"Me as well." Ron said, slugging her playfully.
"Me five!" Fransisca put in.
Ginny smiled and forced her food down. Madam Pomfrey had a special plate sent up to her and had instructed her to come to the hospital wing after classes that day for a weigh in. The food tasted bland, though it was usually delicious. Ginny had a strong craving to puke.
"Hey Harry, we better leave if we want to get to Divination." Ron said.
"See you later!" Harry said, kissing Ginny again.
"Bye." Ginny said, returning the kiss.
Fransisca sighed and stared down the table at Dereck.
"I wish he'd just look at me. That'd be enough. Of course, I'd never get the kind of looks Harry gives you. He's got the LOVE bug." Fransisca said knowingly.
"Thanks, Fran." Ginny said, making herself finish her breakfast.
"You know I hate that nickname, Gin." Fransisca said, flipping her blonde hair behind her shoulder.
"And I hate 'Gin'. It makes me sound like some sort of alcohol." Ginny giggled.
"Whatever. You'll always be Gin to me." Fransisca said, laughing.
"Fine, so you're Fran. Now we gotta run! McGonagall will positively murder us if we're late." Ginny said, trying to sound more energetic than she felt.
Despite tripping as she went up the stairs, Ginny didn't have as much trouble keeping up. It was still tough, and she still felt winded at times, but she at least didn't have another fainting spell. It wasn't until bedtime that she felt the weight of the day's work.
She was cold, chilled to the bone. Her muscles ached, every one of them. She decided to take a hot bath to relax herself, as Madam Pomfrey had instructed her to do. As Ginny was stepping in, she noticed that she had three new, grotesque bruises on her right leg, two on her left, and one on each arm.
She nearly screamed when she saw her reflection. This is probably what dementors look like under their hoods, She thought. But she forced herself to relax in the tub, which didn't work, as you can't force yourself to relax. It did help some, though Ginny wound up with a headache.
The next morning, Fransisca literally had to pull Ginny out from under her covers. Ginny felt so sore that she couldn't move. But, to avoid further visits to Madam Pomfrey, she got up.
"What's up, Ginny?" Fransisca asked.
"Stayed up late doing Snape's essay." Ginny yawned.
"Well stop doing that or you'll get stressed again." Fransisca warned.
At breakfast, Ginny almost vomited on the table as the smell of the greasy bacon assaulted her nose. She kept herself in check though, and managed to eat what Madam Pomfrey had sent up (hotcakes with syrup, bacon, buttered toast, and a banana), even though with each swallow she gagged.
She dragged through the lessons as usual, stumbling along. It wasn't until bedtime again that she really began to hurt. She knew there was something really wrong with her, but what? She should write to mum. But then she'd suffer long lectures about eating right and keeping up with her studies, or she'd get the "Oh my poor little Ginny, suffering. I should bake her a cake!".
Ginny felt like crying as she shuddered under her covers that night. She felt miserable and couldn't let it show. There had to be something she could do. But right now, it was just too hopeless.
