It was Friday. Hermione had gone home last night after the barbecue, not
even sparing a goodbye as she rushed out the front door towards her
parent's Mercedes. She hadn't bothered to tell anybody why she seemed so
upset; not even Ginny, whom she usually confided in. After dinner, as soon
as Harry started to nod off into the "third stage", Fred performed the
reversing charm on his spell and rescued the poor boy from near-certain
death. Due to the sheer number of times Harry had fallen on his ribs,
whacked his head, burnt himself, and just gotten hurt, by the time the
numbing effects of the spell had worn off Harry was writhing on the floor
and howling in pain. Ron, in a fit of horror and frustration, had knocked
his miserable friend over the head with a fallen branch from the Weasley
backyard, rendering Harry peaceful and unconscious. Now his emerald eyes
were hidden under softly closed lids; the young man was lying quietly in
Ron's bed with his hands folded gently over his chest like a corpse. Ginny
and her mother were inspecting Harry's various bruises and abrasions in the
morning sunlight, patching him up as they saw fit. Of course, by now Mrs.
Weasley knew about Harry's multiple broken ribs, but she didn't know how he
had received them in the first place. The redheaded siblings pretended they
didn't know how Harry had broken those bones, and although their parents
didn't believe them, they knew it was useless to question their sons and
daughter any further.
Mrs. Weasley reached blindly for another bandage, keeping her eyes on a partially scabbed-over gash on Harry's upper thigh. She grunted in annoyance when her hand found none. "Ginny," she said, glancing towards the slender girl sitting next to her, "Be a dear and keep an eye on Harry while I run to that Michael-boy's house and ask his mother for some of those hospital supplies I've been hearing so much about. He's just next door, right?"
"Yeah," said Ginny, squeezing a bit of antiseptic gel onto a square of gauze, "He was here yesterday before the barbecue, playing Quidditch with Ron. You know him, that shy blonde guy about Harry's age. I think his house is like...ten minutes away, just follow the little stream behind our house." Soon Mrs. Weasley had left, and Ginny was left alone in Ron's room with Harry...again.
As Ginny slowly wiped a bit of blood off of Harry's face with a damp washcloth, she began to feel regret for having laughed at him yesterday as he damaged his young body almost beyond repair. She sighed and ran a thumb along the soft edge of Harry's lower lip, remarking to herself about how strangely warm it felt. Her other hand gently cradled his limp wrist as she stared, almost entranced, at his sharp features set in porcelain skin. She gasped, and drew back- his eyelashes began to flutter apart, and he stirred a little as he woke up and saw Ginny kneeling next to his bed. He made a low, masculine noise deep in his chest while seeming to calculate exactly why she was in the room with him.
"Wha...what are you doing, Ginny?" he asked groggily, staring at her with no readable emotion.
Ginny returned his gaze silently for several seconds while she assembled a proper response. "Mum and I were just cleaning you up so you wouldn't get infected or anything. She left just now to get some supplies from Michael's house."
"Oh," murmured Harry. He looked around the room cautiously, as if he'd never seen it before. Slowly he brought his attention back to her. "Where am I hurt?"
"Um...," began Ginny, once again leaning over the bed and scanning his barely clothed body for major injuries, "You have a really gross laceration on your right thigh, burns on your hands, about seven bad scrapes on your arms and legs, a concussion, and we think one of those broken ribs is shattered."
Harry, who still appeared half-asleep, considered this new information. "That sucks," he remarked lackadaisically, scratching the side of his neck. "I still can't feel any of it. I thought your brother took that spell off of me."
"He DID," answered Ginny with a frown, mirroring Harry's troubled expression, "You mean you can't feel any pain at all? Last night you were spazzing out, I don't know why you should be numb today."
Suddenly Harry winced, and his chin quivered, "I think I'm going to be sick."
Ginny grabbed Harry's chin and made him face her. "What? What's wrong?"
"What if I'm paralyzed?" cried Harry with a wild expression, "How do you know I'm not paralyzed? Ginny!"
She held his head in both of her freckled hands and stared deep into his eyes. "Because I know. Trust me."
Harry stared back at her with wide, innocent eyes. "O-okay," he answered quietly, not tearing his gaze from hers. "But...but why do you think I'm so numb?"
Ginny sat back down on the carpet, releasing him from her grasp and considering this question. "Maybe Mum drugged you while I was in the bathroom or something." She searched the carpet for a bottle of powder or vial of potion that her mother might have used to alleviate Harry's tortured nerves. Seconds later, she noticed a small glass urn filled with something blue. "This is it," she said, cracking open the lid of the glass and sniffing its contents. "Yep, just as I suspected: extract of levoton. I read about this; it can be used as a powerful anesthetic. Harry, I KNEW you weren't paralyzed!" No response came from the bed. "Harry?" She drew herself up onto her knees and leaned over the bed. Harry was fast asleep with his fingers tightly clutching onto the edge of Ginny's shirt. 'Aw,' thought Ginny with a loving smirk, 'He must be exhausted'. She tried to pry his hand off her tank top, but his grip was unusually strong and so her efforts were to no avail. Ginny, growing anxious, shook Harry's shoulder and tried to wake him up, but he was fully unconscious and would not stir. She sighed. It was about nine o' clock in the morning, and she had never changed out of her bra-less pajamas, so she absolutely would not be able to take off her shirt in a house full of men. But...the rest of the family were all either downstairs or outside, and Harry was completely passed out, so she might be able to rip off her shirt and make a mad dash to her room without being seen. 'Okay,' she thought to herself, taking a deep breath, 'On the count of three I take off my shirt and make a run for it. One...two...,"
At that moment, several things happened at once. Ron, who was outside the house playing Quidditch with his brothers, whacked an apple towards George with the intent to hit him in the face. However, George expertly dodged that apple, keeping it on its original path. The fruit sailed towards the second floor of the house and crashed through Ron's window, landing in a pile of broken glass on his desk. Harry woke up with a start just as Ginny counted to three and exposed herself.
Harry shrieked and obscured his view for Ginny's sake, although something on the lower half of his body begged him to remove his hands from his eyes. Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, and because Harry had let go of her shirt when he woke up, she pulled it back on and ran out of the room fully clothed.
"Oi!" yelled Fred, who was hovering on his broom in front of the broken window, "Harry, d'we wake you up?"
"Yeah," called Harry, propping himself up on his elbows. "It's okay, don't worry about it!" He blushed and bit his lip, worried that Ginny was probably in her room crying in humiliation. 'She's a sweet girl,' he thought, feeling rather guilty for accidentally seeing her topless, 'I wish there was some way I could make her feel better. The poor lass is probably traumatized.' He pictured her lying on her bed sobbing and tearing up a photo of himself and her brother, then scribbling, "I hate Harry, I hope he dies" on all of her belongings. Then he imagined her in ten years as a nun. 'She's so gentle and innocent,' he thought, 'I wonder how bad she'll take this.'
"What the FUCK is your problem, you assholes!" screamed a small female voice from outside the house. Startled, Harry leaned over to his left and peered out of the broken window. Ginny had stormed outside and was now advancing down the front yard towards her brothers, who were taking a break from the game. "What the hell do you jack-offs think you're doing, whacking apples through windows!" Ginny stood in front of Ron, Fred, George, and Charlie, who were cowering in fear under a willow tree. "You know what you did? You woke Harry up, and he's TRYING to heal!" Harry's jaw dropped as he watched a petite young girl bludgeon four redheaded men until they were begging for mercy. About ten minutes of violent fury later, it seemed that Ginny was satisfied and she stalked back into the house.
Harry was laying in bed very quietly and a bit scared when Ginny tiptoed delicately into the room. "Gee Harry, I'm real sorry that my brothers woke you up," she said in a tender, sweet voice, "Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat." Harry, who had pulled the covers up protectively up to his frightened eyes, quickly shook his head no. "Okay then, call me if you need me. Oh, and my Mum should be home any minute now, so don't be alarmed when she comes into the room. Sweet dreams!" she called with an adorable smile, closing the door carefully. Harry sighed in relief and stared wide-eyed at the door.
"Don't you DARE go into that room, douche-bag! It was YOUR apple that broke the window!" screamed Ginny from the hallway. Harry, who heard this from inside the room, jumped in fear and pulled the blankets over his head. He thought he knew her very well as the shy, innocent little sister of his best friend; but after that display of strength and self-confidence he wasn't sure about anything anymore.
Mrs. Weasley reached blindly for another bandage, keeping her eyes on a partially scabbed-over gash on Harry's upper thigh. She grunted in annoyance when her hand found none. "Ginny," she said, glancing towards the slender girl sitting next to her, "Be a dear and keep an eye on Harry while I run to that Michael-boy's house and ask his mother for some of those hospital supplies I've been hearing so much about. He's just next door, right?"
"Yeah," said Ginny, squeezing a bit of antiseptic gel onto a square of gauze, "He was here yesterday before the barbecue, playing Quidditch with Ron. You know him, that shy blonde guy about Harry's age. I think his house is like...ten minutes away, just follow the little stream behind our house." Soon Mrs. Weasley had left, and Ginny was left alone in Ron's room with Harry...again.
As Ginny slowly wiped a bit of blood off of Harry's face with a damp washcloth, she began to feel regret for having laughed at him yesterday as he damaged his young body almost beyond repair. She sighed and ran a thumb along the soft edge of Harry's lower lip, remarking to herself about how strangely warm it felt. Her other hand gently cradled his limp wrist as she stared, almost entranced, at his sharp features set in porcelain skin. She gasped, and drew back- his eyelashes began to flutter apart, and he stirred a little as he woke up and saw Ginny kneeling next to his bed. He made a low, masculine noise deep in his chest while seeming to calculate exactly why she was in the room with him.
"Wha...what are you doing, Ginny?" he asked groggily, staring at her with no readable emotion.
Ginny returned his gaze silently for several seconds while she assembled a proper response. "Mum and I were just cleaning you up so you wouldn't get infected or anything. She left just now to get some supplies from Michael's house."
"Oh," murmured Harry. He looked around the room cautiously, as if he'd never seen it before. Slowly he brought his attention back to her. "Where am I hurt?"
"Um...," began Ginny, once again leaning over the bed and scanning his barely clothed body for major injuries, "You have a really gross laceration on your right thigh, burns on your hands, about seven bad scrapes on your arms and legs, a concussion, and we think one of those broken ribs is shattered."
Harry, who still appeared half-asleep, considered this new information. "That sucks," he remarked lackadaisically, scratching the side of his neck. "I still can't feel any of it. I thought your brother took that spell off of me."
"He DID," answered Ginny with a frown, mirroring Harry's troubled expression, "You mean you can't feel any pain at all? Last night you were spazzing out, I don't know why you should be numb today."
Suddenly Harry winced, and his chin quivered, "I think I'm going to be sick."
Ginny grabbed Harry's chin and made him face her. "What? What's wrong?"
"What if I'm paralyzed?" cried Harry with a wild expression, "How do you know I'm not paralyzed? Ginny!"
She held his head in both of her freckled hands and stared deep into his eyes. "Because I know. Trust me."
Harry stared back at her with wide, innocent eyes. "O-okay," he answered quietly, not tearing his gaze from hers. "But...but why do you think I'm so numb?"
Ginny sat back down on the carpet, releasing him from her grasp and considering this question. "Maybe Mum drugged you while I was in the bathroom or something." She searched the carpet for a bottle of powder or vial of potion that her mother might have used to alleviate Harry's tortured nerves. Seconds later, she noticed a small glass urn filled with something blue. "This is it," she said, cracking open the lid of the glass and sniffing its contents. "Yep, just as I suspected: extract of levoton. I read about this; it can be used as a powerful anesthetic. Harry, I KNEW you weren't paralyzed!" No response came from the bed. "Harry?" She drew herself up onto her knees and leaned over the bed. Harry was fast asleep with his fingers tightly clutching onto the edge of Ginny's shirt. 'Aw,' thought Ginny with a loving smirk, 'He must be exhausted'. She tried to pry his hand off her tank top, but his grip was unusually strong and so her efforts were to no avail. Ginny, growing anxious, shook Harry's shoulder and tried to wake him up, but he was fully unconscious and would not stir. She sighed. It was about nine o' clock in the morning, and she had never changed out of her bra-less pajamas, so she absolutely would not be able to take off her shirt in a house full of men. But...the rest of the family were all either downstairs or outside, and Harry was completely passed out, so she might be able to rip off her shirt and make a mad dash to her room without being seen. 'Okay,' she thought to herself, taking a deep breath, 'On the count of three I take off my shirt and make a run for it. One...two...,"
At that moment, several things happened at once. Ron, who was outside the house playing Quidditch with his brothers, whacked an apple towards George with the intent to hit him in the face. However, George expertly dodged that apple, keeping it on its original path. The fruit sailed towards the second floor of the house and crashed through Ron's window, landing in a pile of broken glass on his desk. Harry woke up with a start just as Ginny counted to three and exposed herself.
Harry shrieked and obscured his view for Ginny's sake, although something on the lower half of his body begged him to remove his hands from his eyes. Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, and because Harry had let go of her shirt when he woke up, she pulled it back on and ran out of the room fully clothed.
"Oi!" yelled Fred, who was hovering on his broom in front of the broken window, "Harry, d'we wake you up?"
"Yeah," called Harry, propping himself up on his elbows. "It's okay, don't worry about it!" He blushed and bit his lip, worried that Ginny was probably in her room crying in humiliation. 'She's a sweet girl,' he thought, feeling rather guilty for accidentally seeing her topless, 'I wish there was some way I could make her feel better. The poor lass is probably traumatized.' He pictured her lying on her bed sobbing and tearing up a photo of himself and her brother, then scribbling, "I hate Harry, I hope he dies" on all of her belongings. Then he imagined her in ten years as a nun. 'She's so gentle and innocent,' he thought, 'I wonder how bad she'll take this.'
"What the FUCK is your problem, you assholes!" screamed a small female voice from outside the house. Startled, Harry leaned over to his left and peered out of the broken window. Ginny had stormed outside and was now advancing down the front yard towards her brothers, who were taking a break from the game. "What the hell do you jack-offs think you're doing, whacking apples through windows!" Ginny stood in front of Ron, Fred, George, and Charlie, who were cowering in fear under a willow tree. "You know what you did? You woke Harry up, and he's TRYING to heal!" Harry's jaw dropped as he watched a petite young girl bludgeon four redheaded men until they were begging for mercy. About ten minutes of violent fury later, it seemed that Ginny was satisfied and she stalked back into the house.
Harry was laying in bed very quietly and a bit scared when Ginny tiptoed delicately into the room. "Gee Harry, I'm real sorry that my brothers woke you up," she said in a tender, sweet voice, "Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat." Harry, who had pulled the covers up protectively up to his frightened eyes, quickly shook his head no. "Okay then, call me if you need me. Oh, and my Mum should be home any minute now, so don't be alarmed when she comes into the room. Sweet dreams!" she called with an adorable smile, closing the door carefully. Harry sighed in relief and stared wide-eyed at the door.
"Don't you DARE go into that room, douche-bag! It was YOUR apple that broke the window!" screamed Ginny from the hallway. Harry, who heard this from inside the room, jumped in fear and pulled the blankets over his head. He thought he knew her very well as the shy, innocent little sister of his best friend; but after that display of strength and self-confidence he wasn't sure about anything anymore.