Harry was sitting alone in Ron's room. The barbecue was scheduled to begin
in about a half hour, and Hermione was supposed to arrive at the Weasley's
house any minute. She wasn't staying afterwards, however, because she had
been invited that morning on very short notice and didn't have time to pack
any of her school supplies. Harry was waiting for Ginny to come in and help
him get dressed for the party, since Michael had tied the hospital bandages
very tightly and Harry found it rather painful to make any drastic
movements. He was surprised by how anxious Ginny was in volunteering to
assist him in changing his clothes, but he dismissed it as simply an act of
kindness and so now sat patiently on Ron's bed.
A knock on the door signified Ginny's arrival, and she walked in. The two teenagers greeted each other before Harry held up a beige sweater and a pair of jeans. "Could you please help me put these on?"
"Sure." Harry sat on the side of the bed with his knees swung over the edge, and Ginny stood in front of him. "Can you raise your arms so I can take this old shirt off?" she asked.
"I- I don't know, wait a minute and I'll try." He winced as he struggled to slowly raise his elbows, but had only gotten halfway when tears of frustration flooded to his eyes and he dropped his arms suddenly. "I can't," he said, hanging his head, "I feel so fucking helpless." Ginny's eyes grew wide at these words; she had never heard him curse before.
"You're not helpless," she soothed, sitting next to him on the bed. "I mean, you went around with no treatment or painkillers whatsoever for DAYS. Now you're all wrapped up and ready to heal, so you have to take things slowly."
Harry shook his head angrily; he didn't want to hear what she had to say. "I can't even get myself dressed!" he cried, regarding Ginny with fire in his eyes. "Four year olds can do more than I can!"
"Harry!" protested Ginny, placing a gentle hand on his back. "That isn't true! Can four year olds defeat the Dark Lord every year since first coming to Hogwarts?" Harry said nothing, but stared bitterly at his knees. He blinked and a single tear splattered onto his pants.
Ginny had no idea what to say next. She had never seen Harry in such a vulnerable state, and was a bit taken aback by how much he must trust her. She quickly reverted to the security of the reason that she had visited him in the first place. "I have an idea about your shirt," she said, but Harry didn't look up. "I can just cut it off, since its kind of old and I don't think all that blood will come out." She stood up, and grabbed a pair of scissors out of a drawer in Ron's desk. "Can you stand for me?"
Harry carefully stood up, and let Ginny use the scissors to slice through the thin, dirty fabric. It was a bit of a turn-on for him, actually, to watch a pretty girl remove his shirt in such a way. Once Ginny slid the ruined shirt off of his shoulders, she stared quietly at the now exposed medical bandages wrapping his muscled chest. Neither of them noticed the absolute silence as they stood alone in Ron's room; Harry watched Ginny with subtle interest and a meaningful expression as she stood in front of him with her hands on his bare skin.
Ginny was the first one to snap out of their trance, and she quickly left Harry to return the scissors to Ron's drawer. "Okay," she said, walking back towards Harry and standing in front of him once more, "Where is that sweater you wanted to put on?"
"Oh, it's...right here," said Harry, picking the beige sweater off of Ron's bed and handing it to Ginny. She turned the clothing over in her hands, deciding on what would be the easiest method of applying it to the older boy standing expectantly in front of her.
"Here, just...put your head through this hole," she said, removing his glasses and using them to hold back her hair before she pulled the neck of the sweater over Harry's head. "Now, can you stick your arms into the sleeves?" Ginny helped maneuver his arms through the soft wool until both of his hands appeared at the ends of the sleeves. Then she pulled the bottom down until the sweater fitted normally on the young man's frame.
"Yay," remarked Harry unenthusiastically, and the redheaded girl smirked. "Well, now I've got those jeans to put on." Ginny gulped, and Harry felt his cheeks begin to flush.
"Well first," began Ginny, "We have to take off these khakis." She bit her lip and Harry fought against his growing sexual arousal as Ginny unbuttoned his pants and slowly unzipped the fly. She gradually sunk to her knees as she pulled down the khakis and helped Harry step out of them. Throwing the old pants onto the chair sitting in front of Ron's desk, she grabbed the jeans off the obnoxiously orange Chudley Cannons bedsheets. Ginny rolled the legs up so that Harry could easily step into them - he found that it hurt more to sit than to stand, so he was never able to bend over and help with the addition of new jeans. Still kneeling in front of Harry, she stood as she pulled the jeans higher up the young man's legs until she was standing in front of him, and could easily button the fly of the pants which sat so fittingly on Harry's slender waist. Once the jeans were in place, she pulled the end of the sweater over them so that Harry looked dashing in his new outfit.
Both of them were blushing. "Good thing we didn't need to tuck in a shirt," remarked Harry.
Ginny giggled. "Yeah, I think I've had my hands down your pants long enough for one day." Harry began to laugh, but it turned into another violent fit of coughing. Ginny rubbed his back as blood began to appear on his hands and face, and the boy crumpled against the wall as more and more blood drenched his hands and wrists. Ginny rushed him into the bathroom, and Harry kneeled with his head and hands in the sink until his coughing subsided. He was breathing raggedly as Ginny ran cold water, staining the sink a deep red hue as Harry cleaned himself off.
"Well," said Harry, several minutes later as he was drying his face, "Let's go downstairs, I think I just heard 'Mione's voice." The two hopped down the stairs, and once Hermione saw them land in the living room she ran over to Harry and gave him a tight, crushing hug.
*Next chapter soon....how did you like that ending? Oh no, Harry can't get hugged like that!
A knock on the door signified Ginny's arrival, and she walked in. The two teenagers greeted each other before Harry held up a beige sweater and a pair of jeans. "Could you please help me put these on?"
"Sure." Harry sat on the side of the bed with his knees swung over the edge, and Ginny stood in front of him. "Can you raise your arms so I can take this old shirt off?" she asked.
"I- I don't know, wait a minute and I'll try." He winced as he struggled to slowly raise his elbows, but had only gotten halfway when tears of frustration flooded to his eyes and he dropped his arms suddenly. "I can't," he said, hanging his head, "I feel so fucking helpless." Ginny's eyes grew wide at these words; she had never heard him curse before.
"You're not helpless," she soothed, sitting next to him on the bed. "I mean, you went around with no treatment or painkillers whatsoever for DAYS. Now you're all wrapped up and ready to heal, so you have to take things slowly."
Harry shook his head angrily; he didn't want to hear what she had to say. "I can't even get myself dressed!" he cried, regarding Ginny with fire in his eyes. "Four year olds can do more than I can!"
"Harry!" protested Ginny, placing a gentle hand on his back. "That isn't true! Can four year olds defeat the Dark Lord every year since first coming to Hogwarts?" Harry said nothing, but stared bitterly at his knees. He blinked and a single tear splattered onto his pants.
Ginny had no idea what to say next. She had never seen Harry in such a vulnerable state, and was a bit taken aback by how much he must trust her. She quickly reverted to the security of the reason that she had visited him in the first place. "I have an idea about your shirt," she said, but Harry didn't look up. "I can just cut it off, since its kind of old and I don't think all that blood will come out." She stood up, and grabbed a pair of scissors out of a drawer in Ron's desk. "Can you stand for me?"
Harry carefully stood up, and let Ginny use the scissors to slice through the thin, dirty fabric. It was a bit of a turn-on for him, actually, to watch a pretty girl remove his shirt in such a way. Once Ginny slid the ruined shirt off of his shoulders, she stared quietly at the now exposed medical bandages wrapping his muscled chest. Neither of them noticed the absolute silence as they stood alone in Ron's room; Harry watched Ginny with subtle interest and a meaningful expression as she stood in front of him with her hands on his bare skin.
Ginny was the first one to snap out of their trance, and she quickly left Harry to return the scissors to Ron's drawer. "Okay," she said, walking back towards Harry and standing in front of him once more, "Where is that sweater you wanted to put on?"
"Oh, it's...right here," said Harry, picking the beige sweater off of Ron's bed and handing it to Ginny. She turned the clothing over in her hands, deciding on what would be the easiest method of applying it to the older boy standing expectantly in front of her.
"Here, just...put your head through this hole," she said, removing his glasses and using them to hold back her hair before she pulled the neck of the sweater over Harry's head. "Now, can you stick your arms into the sleeves?" Ginny helped maneuver his arms through the soft wool until both of his hands appeared at the ends of the sleeves. Then she pulled the bottom down until the sweater fitted normally on the young man's frame.
"Yay," remarked Harry unenthusiastically, and the redheaded girl smirked. "Well, now I've got those jeans to put on." Ginny gulped, and Harry felt his cheeks begin to flush.
"Well first," began Ginny, "We have to take off these khakis." She bit her lip and Harry fought against his growing sexual arousal as Ginny unbuttoned his pants and slowly unzipped the fly. She gradually sunk to her knees as she pulled down the khakis and helped Harry step out of them. Throwing the old pants onto the chair sitting in front of Ron's desk, she grabbed the jeans off the obnoxiously orange Chudley Cannons bedsheets. Ginny rolled the legs up so that Harry could easily step into them - he found that it hurt more to sit than to stand, so he was never able to bend over and help with the addition of new jeans. Still kneeling in front of Harry, she stood as she pulled the jeans higher up the young man's legs until she was standing in front of him, and could easily button the fly of the pants which sat so fittingly on Harry's slender waist. Once the jeans were in place, she pulled the end of the sweater over them so that Harry looked dashing in his new outfit.
Both of them were blushing. "Good thing we didn't need to tuck in a shirt," remarked Harry.
Ginny giggled. "Yeah, I think I've had my hands down your pants long enough for one day." Harry began to laugh, but it turned into another violent fit of coughing. Ginny rubbed his back as blood began to appear on his hands and face, and the boy crumpled against the wall as more and more blood drenched his hands and wrists. Ginny rushed him into the bathroom, and Harry kneeled with his head and hands in the sink until his coughing subsided. He was breathing raggedly as Ginny ran cold water, staining the sink a deep red hue as Harry cleaned himself off.
"Well," said Harry, several minutes later as he was drying his face, "Let's go downstairs, I think I just heard 'Mione's voice." The two hopped down the stairs, and once Hermione saw them land in the living room she ran over to Harry and gave him a tight, crushing hug.
*Next chapter soon....how did you like that ending? Oh no, Harry can't get hugged like that!