Chapter Eighteen

"You know," Oliver began as the three of them finally exited the hospital, Harry's arm firmly around Ginny's waist, "although it will have to be postponed, my offer of dinner still stands. I like having you and Hermione in my class," he added, addressing this part directly to Ginny. "I've seen more people from Hogwarts this past week than I have since I left!"

Ginny laughed politely, turning to her boyfriend. "Are you free at all next week?" she asked, hoping Harry would somehow be able to guess that she wanted to go. She rather doubted it, though; for an Auror who was always supposed to be on his feet and thinking fast, Harry could be rather oblivious sometimes.

However, he surprised her. "Yeah, I think I'll be able to work something out." He smiled down at her then turned to Oliver. "We'll get in touch with you somehow," Harry said, "and thanks for the invite."

"I'll be sure to choose somewhere good," Oliver smiled. "Bye, Harry. Take care of your injured lady, here," he added, winking at Ginny. She stuck her tongue out in reply. With that, he Apparated.

Harry exhaled against her. "Ready to go home, you little troublemaker?" he asked, gently ruffling the part of Ginny's hair he could reach around the bandages. "Are you okay to Apparate?"

"Yes to both," Ginny replied. "I really am going to call off tomorrow, I'm exhausted."

"I'm sure George will understand," Harry said, and with that he spun them into the whirlwind of Apparition.

The next morning, as Ginny waited for Harry to get back with headache potion and frozen yogurt (which hadn't been prescribed but was nevertheless requested), a knock sounded on the front door. Ginny was slightly startled. It had to be someone they knew; the Unplottable nature of 12 Grimmauld Place necessitated previous knowledge of the Potter-Weasley homestead before entry or even discovery. Ginny sighed, knowing that whomever it was would probably not leave them alone until she answered. She got to her feet, swaying slightly without the headache potion to help steady her and calm her aching head, and wobbled down the hallway. With a murmur she removed the wards from the front door and cracked it open to reveal a very firm-looking Hermione.

"Let. Me. In," said the brunette, and Ginny was far too afraid to refuse her.

Ginny closed the door behind her friend as Hermione practically marched inside, flats clicking against the floor. "So, what on earth did I do to deserve this?" she asked, trying not to be too noisy in an effort to preserve her head.

Hermione whirled around, crossing her arms. "You are going to sit in the kitchen and tell me what the hell happened yesterday while I make you soup," she commanded, and Ginny meekly complied.

"How did you know anything happened yesterday?" Ginny asked when she was seated in a chair and Hermione was installed at the stove, stirring and pouring and squinting at labels.

"You probably forgot this," Hermione replied, "but whenever you filled out your last form for St. Mungo's you listed me as your emergency contact. I don't think you and Harry lived together yet and you were going through one of those phases where you thought you were going to break up with him any day."

"Why didn't I put my mum or George?" Ginny asked, frowning.

"They can't be related," Hermione said, her voice very matter-of-fact. "Anyway, so when I got an urgent message in my fireplace from St. Mungo's I absolutely panicked. I was still at work but I begged my bosses to let me leave and I bolted for your hospital room only to find that they wouldn't let me in because there were already people in there. So," she finished, stirring her pot with the same intensity that her glare held, "they'd better have been important. Include them in your retelling."

Ginny sighed. "I wish they'd let you in," she said. "Yesterday Harry and I went to a Quidditch match with Oliver Wood. I know, I know," she continued before Hermione could cut her off, and the brunette witch shut her mouth in a tight frown, "I just thought it would be fun, all right? You know I'm easily bored. Anyway, while we were there I got hit in the head with a Bludger. Not fun. I passed out for a bit and woke up in the hospital with Oliver Wood sitting by my bedside and a load of bandages wrapped around my hair. We fixed the cut today but I've got a splitting headache; Harry's out getting some potion for me. Oh," she added, "and Harry eventually got to the hospital too, of course, which is probably why they didn't let you in. He wasn't there at first because of Auror business, I guess he had to make sure nothing untoward or illegal happened with the Bludger."

Hermione was silent for a moment as the smell of chicken and vegetables filled the kitchen. "You have the worst luck," she finally said. "You really do." There was another pause; Ginny didn't exactly feel uncomfortable, but she did feel anxious, as if something were coming, although she didn't know what. "Ginny," Hermione began slowly, and instantly Ginny knew this had been the dark thing on her clairvoyant horizon. "I've been meaning to talk to you about Oliver and everything. Don't get on my case," she continued, shutting Ginny's interruption down much as Ginny had done moments before. "I'm just saying it seems that you two have taken to each other. I think that's good for you, Ginny, really. You don't have too many good friends that you can get out and see, honestly, and I know you hate that. But just be careful, you know? He seems a bit more … freewheeling … than Harry. But," Hermione added, shaking her wooden spoon at Ginny, "exactly as freewheeling as you. Even I can see that your personalities line up well. Be careful, Ginny," she finished, turning off the stove with a flick of her wand and levitating the pot and the dishes over to the table. "Make sure you think things through."

Ginny nodded. Hermione was making sense, as she always did, and it seemed disrespectful and unnecessary to disagree with someone who had just made her what smelled like delicious chicken noodle soup.

"That's all I'll say about it, I promise," Hermione said, smiling at Ginny and rubbing her palm over the back of Ginny's hand. "Now let's get some of this soup into you. If we're lucky, maybe we'll finish it before your vacuum cleaner of a boyfriend gets back from the apothecary."