Chapter Sixteen

"I don't think your boyfriend likes me very much anymore."

Ginny hadn't even opened her eyes, but Oliver's voice nevertheless drifted to her from some point on her left. She tried to remain still; this was made easier by the fact that she didn't think she could move her throbbing head.

"I know you can hear me," Oliver continued. Ginny didn't open her eyes. She didn't even know where she was. She didn't seem to be at the stadium anymore; there wasn't enough background noise. All she could remember was Oliver talking about work with Harry. "So I'm going to keep talking. I don't think he likes me. After that Bludger smacked you in the head he had a complete fit making sure you were alive and, when that was over, he glared at me and starting doing Auror business securing the pitch and insisted on doing some sort of investigation. That's actually where he is now. So I'm here alone, waiting for you to wake up - well, at least, that's what I was doing. Now I'm talking to you, waiting for you to open your eyes, and I'm guessing that since you're not wincing at the sound of my voice, your head must be feeling at least a little bit better. Come on, open up those eyes, Ginny."

"Why isn't Harry here?" Ginny asked, knowing what Oliver had said but not quite understanding it. Her head did hurt quite a bit. Her voice seemed to bounce out of her mouth, into her ears, and around her skull.

"I'm sure I could explain it better if you opened your eyes," Oliver said. He chuckled a little. "Maybe I'll use visual cues."

Ginny sighed. "What's the lighting like?" she asked.

"It's a wizarding hospital," Oliver said as if explaining to a child that two plus two was four. "It adjusts, of course. It'll be perfect, I promise."

Ginny sighed again and cracked her eyes open just enough for light to get through. Oliver did seem to be right; it wasn't too bright yet. Slowly, she separated her eyelids bit by bit until she was staring up at a white ceiling dotted with low-burning lamps. She wasn't sure if she could turn her head without more pain, and didn't really want to move more than she had to. "What side are you sitting on?" she asked Oliver, hoping that even if he lied to her to mess around she would be able to gauge where he was based on the sound his voice came from.

"I'm on your left," he replied, and indeed his voice did seem to be coming from there. Ginny turned slowly, but surprisingly felt very little additional pain, and soon was looking right at Oliver's cheerful face. "Hi," he said, smiling a little wider.

"Hi," she replied, smiling grudgingly. "So where's Harry and what happened to me? Also," Ginny added as an afterthought, "where am I?"

"I think I'll answer those questions in a mixed order," Oliver said. "I'll start with 'What happened to me?'. Well, I'm sure you remember that you, your boyfriend and I were all at a Quidditch match." Ginny nodded, mostly to test her range of movement, and again was pleasantly surprised when no additional pain occurred. "Well, you turned to join our conversation, and it seemed like out of nowhere a Bludger came flying right at you. I say 'seemed' not because there was no Bludger - because, as I'm sure you've deduced, there was in fact a Bludger - but rather because it had to have come from somewhere. Which is what Harry is probably trying to figure out. Anyway, although I can say that both Harry and I heroically attempted to save you, the Bludger struck you in the head with unrelenting force. So, Harry took it upon himself to investigate the situation to make sure there was no foul play, leaving me to take you to St. Mungo's, which is where we are now. Does that answer everything?"

Ginny frowned, which caused the ache in her head to intensify momentarily. "I think," she said slowly. "I have two more questions."

"Ask away," Oliver said, smiling.

"First, why didn't Harry come here with me? That seems pretty out of character for him. He doesn't really leave my side normally, much less when I'm injured."

"Well," Oliver said, "I'm guessing a sense of duty overtook him. If it helps any, he did seem far more nervous about your health than the situation required. But maybe it's kind of a work requirement that he try to contain any possible threats. Don't be worried, Ginny," he added. "I can tell he cares about you a lot."

"I wasn't worried," Ginny assured him, "just curious."

"Anyway," Oliver said, "your second question?"

"Oh, yeah," Ginny said, grinning. "Why did you feel the need to tell me that story so dramatically?"

Oliver chuckled. "While you've been unconscious and under the care of these Healers and Medi-witches, I've been amusing myself by figuring out the most theatrical way I could tell you what happened. I didn't want to let my concoction go to waste."

Ginny laughed, which sharpened her headache briefly. "Well, I'm sorry you were so bored," she said. "If it's any consolation, it's not like I could help how long it took to get me better."

"Understood," Oliver responded, smiling again. "How does your head feel?"

"It's all right," Ginny replied. "It's a dull ache for the most part, although it sharpens if I speak or frown or move my facial muscles at all."

"I'm so glad you said that," Oliver said, rising from his chair so fast it almost looked like he had jumped out of it. "The nurses gave me permission to give you a headache potion if you said the pain was bothering you, and I feel the thrill of a kid playing doctor just thinking about it. So let's administer this potion!"

Ginny grinned. "You're funny," she said, following his movements with interest.

"Thanks," Oliver said, pausing in uncorking a bottle of orange liquid. "I don't mean to cause any tension, so take this in as friendly a manner as possible, but you look very cute all bandaged up in a hospital bed."

"Bandaged up?" Ginny repeated, throwing her hands to her head and gingerly patting where her hair should have been. It felt like several rolls of gauze had been dedicated to holding her skull together, or whatever was happening up there. "What for?"

"Well," Oliver said, opening the bottle, "a rough edge of the Bludger caught you and there was a fair amount of blood. I think the bandages were mostly to staunch the bleeding, although for all I know about Healing there could have been a plethora of other reasons. Here's your potion," he added, extending the bottle to her.

Ginny took it. The orange liquid shone slightly, casting a cheery glow around itself. She drank it slowly, and from the first mouthful she could feel the headache getting better. By the time she was finished, there was only a strange tenderness around where the bandages were, and it didn't hurt to smile as she turned and handed the bottle back to Oliver. "Thanks," she said. "I feel loads better already."

"Don't thank me," Oliver replied, "I'm just the messenger."

"So do I have to stay here?" Ginny asked, looking aimlessly around as if a nurse or doctor might just walk through one of the walls. "I feel ready to go home as long as I've got a supply of headache potion."

"They said you've got to hang around for a bit so they can test for concussion again," Oliver said. "Apparently even the best of wizarding medicine can't do an instant heal on that. They're saying it's not probable that you have one since you just blacked out and such, but there's no such thing as too careful with concussions."

"You sound awfully worried," Ginny said, frowning slightly. There was a small pause.

"I used to play Quidditch," Oliver began, breaking the silence. "And I was rather good, if I may say so. I didn't have natural talent but did I ever practice. I was always at the training facility trying to become more agile or stronger or more accurate or something. And I flew constantly. I didn't Apparate for a whole year because I wanted to get really good at using a broomstick, even though, as a Keeper, I usually didn't have to fly any distance. But still," he added, "it did help. Anyway, one game we - Puddlemere, I don't know if you remember-"

"I do," Ginny interjected softly, feeling strangely sad already.

"Good," Oliver smiled. "Well, anyway, Puddlemere was going to play Holyhead. You probably know them, Gwendolyn Jones and her all-girl team. Anyway, we were in the midst of an intense game. They had scored three goals pretty quickly on our first-string Keeper so the coach put me in and I was doing great. I was even being a little optimistic about my possible future as a first-string player. But then, out of nowhere, much like today, a Bludger hit me. It was horrible," he continued, his eyes unfocused as if he were looking through Ginny into the past. "It wasn't the sharpest or most unendurable pain I've ever felt, but I instantly knew something wasn't right. I had that moment of clarity; then, everything became confused. I didn't know who I was or where I was or why I was vomiting. I was lucky someone caught me with a spell or I might have broken my neck hitting the ground. I couldn't see a thing. I felt sick and exhausted and… Well, I don't need to share with you all the gory details. The long story short is that I had a concussion. And it forced me to retire."

Ginny gasped. She had seen that ending coming but still it was painful. "I'm sorry," she said, woefully inadequate.

"It's okay," Oliver said, trying to be bright but still seeming a little sad. "The team - and I - didn't want to risk another head injury and possible death over a game, you know? So, while in I guess what you could call recovery, I took up painting, and eventually teaching. I'm fairly happy where I am today, and Puddlemere always gives me season tickets and still invites me out for drinks sometimes like I'm part of the team."

Ginny smiled. "That's good," she started to say, but just as she opened her mouth the door of the hospital room opened. As her boyfriend walked in, Ginny remembered with an out-of-character and rather girlish blush that Oliver had called her cute.