I see a lot of fics in which Harry gets hurt but I rarely see Ginny in his place even though she has a rather dangerous job too. Will you please write something in which Ginny and Harry reverse roles? Like, Injured!Ginny Worried!Harry? Oh and I guess I love you (runs away)
The crowd was roaring, and Harry was roaring with them, leaning over the edge of the top box, punching the air as his wife - his wife! - shot like an arrow through the air.
She had been scoring goal after magnificent goal - she was moving too fast for him to see her expression, but he knew it would be set in determination, that blazing look in her eyes, her fiery hair streaming behind her.
‘It’s Potter with the quaffle - over to Jones - back to Potter with a pass beneath Jupp - dodging Goldsmith - GOAAAL!’
The swell of noise was incomprehensible, and Harry was yelling too, both he and Ron jumping clumsily as they grasped one another’s shoulders and clapped each other’s chests, shouting with exhilarated delight.
‘What a way to announce her new name!’ he heard Ron shout into his ear, and Harry laughed proudly. Ginny had strode, cool as you please, onto the pitch with her new name stitched onto her robes and an expression as though she hadn’t noticed the tremendous effect it had caused on the gathered crowd. Harry was sure the press section had been gradually growing in number throughout the match. He felt a little burst of smugness that they had kept the wedding secret for this long.
Ginny was darting about again, rolling her broom beneath her own team’s seeker so she could zoom up the pitch uninterrupted or slowed down by turns, aiming straight for the Tornado’s chaser, ready to intercept-
It was though Harry was suddenly underwater - everything was muffled, and slightly slower than normal. He saw the dark blur of the bludger, saw the way Ginny spun to the side as it collided with the side of her temple, saw her fall limp and then down - down - down -
He was gripping the edge of the box tightly, but he used it to push off as he turned, and ran. He was vaguely aware of Ron shouting after him, but his blood was thundering through his head, horror coursing through his veins, he only wanted one thing in the world and that was her…
He pounded down the stairs of the stands and reached the edge of the pitch, but the security trolls stepped across, refusing to let him past. ‘Let me go!’ he yelled at them - the crowd was still making a lot of noise, loud, low and rumbling, and he could see a cluster of Healers on the pitch, Ginny was surely in the middle of them. ‘I need to-’
The trolls’ handler hurried forward, and visibly paled as he recognised Harry. ‘Please, S-sir, just-’
‘Let me get to her!’ Harry bellowed, trying to wrestle his way past the troll’s outstretched arm. This was futile, as it was roughly the size of Harry himself.
‘Mr Potter, you can’t go onto the pitch, our safety regulations-’
‘Let - me - on!’ Harry snarled. ‘I’ll curse the whole bloody lot of you-’
‘Mr Potter,’ came a more authoritative voice - it was the Harpies’ manager, Corrine Johnson. ‘She’ll be fine - they’re taking her straight to St Mungos.’
As if on cue, he saw the Healers vanish, leaving the pitch empty. Harry heard the commentator, his voice jovial and unconcerned, ‘Potter is out of the game, the Harpies are down to two chasers - it’s Reed in posession-’
Harry took a shuddering breath, stepped back from the trolls, twisted, and vanished with a crack.
After the deafening noise of the stadium, the relative quiet of St Mungos was disorientating; his ears were ringing slightly. He stumbled straight to the witch at the reception desk, shifting from foot to foot impatiently as the wizard in front of him slowly described how his nipples had vanished and been replaced with salami.
‘Fourth floor, please, Mr Bannerman - Healer Patil will see you there. Next, please!’
Harry hurried forward. ‘I need to see Ginny Potter,’ he said breathlessly. ‘She will have just been brought in-’
‘Oh, wow, congratulations!’ the witch squealed. ‘When did you get married? I never saw anything about it in-’
‘Thanks,’ he said impatiently. ‘Where is she?’
‘Er…’ she said, her voice still far too bright for Harry’s liking. She looked down at her magical folder - the words across it constantly moved and crossed themselves out. She flicked through a few pages. ‘Ooh, yes, she’s on this floor - down that corridor and take a right, then it’s the second door on the left - so do you have any photos of the big day?’
But Harry had already gone, rushing down the corridor as fast as he felt he could, nimbly dodging a man leading his child, whose head seemed to have swelled to the size of a beach ball, towards the stairs.
‘Oh, go away,’ came a voice, the moment he found the right corridor. ‘I refuse to work late tonight.’
‘Healer Gower,’ Harry said. ‘Where-’
‘She’s in there. Will you calm down? Healer Pye’s dealing with her - I don’t do sports injuries, I do proper stuff. My shift’s over anyway.’
Harry burst into the room. Healer Pye was at the foot of the bed examining a clipboard; he smiled up calmly as Harry entered. ‘I just saw you were en route,’ he said, tapping the clipboard. ‘Take a seat, she’ll wake up in a bit.’
Harry slowly approached. Ginny lay there, pale and still but visibly breathing, a turban of bandages around the crest of her head, though her bright red ponytail was still visible resting on one shoulder.
Harry sat in the chair beside her, his breathing finally slowing. ‘She’s going to be all right?’ he asked faintly.
Healer Pye looked at him, surprised. ‘Mmm? Oh, yes, it’s just a cracked skull. Let her have a rest overnight and we’ll discharge her in the morning.’ He reattached the clipboard to the end of her bed, and left, quietly closing the door behind him.
Harry looked back at Ginny, her perfect face peaceful, her freckles standing out more than ever on her pale skin. He reached out and held her hand, his thumb running over the engagement and wedding rings, his fingertips brushing against her soft palms. He waited, for a very long time, just watching her and thinking of her blazing look and the way she was in the mornings and the way she sighed when her legs were around his hips and the way she laughed and how she always curled up in the corner of the sofa.
Eventually she began to stir; first her hand twitching under his fingers (she was always so ticklish), then she shifted slightly as though uncomfortable, and then her head was rolling to the side, so her face was pointed at him, and her eyelids fluttered.
‘Hello,’ he said to her, and he hadn’t spoken in so long that his voice came out gravelly. ‘How’re you feeling?’
She groaned slightly, and frowned. ‘Did we win?’
He smiled. ‘I… I don’t know, I’m sorry.’
She frowned harder. ‘You didn’t stay to find out?’
‘I came straight here… I was so worried about you.’
She considered him for a moment, her eyes narrowed. Then she slowly lifted her hand and touched the bandages on her head. Then, quite unexpectedly, she grinned. ‘Shoe’s on the other foot now, isn’t it, Harry?’
He spluttered into laughter. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Doesn’t feel good, sitting in that chair, does it?’
He laughed harder, and leaned forward to kiss her smiling face. ‘I think I overreacted a bit,’ he admitted. ‘It just looked awful.’
‘You silly thing,’ she said, squeezing his hand. ‘It’s just Quidditch. You’ve had a bludger to the head before, you know how it is.’
‘It was actually a beaters bat, and I hear that it looked quite funny,’ said Harry.
‘It didn’t!’ she said, but she was chuckling too now.
The door opened, and Ron stepped in, carrying a little cardboard carrier of coffees and a white paper bag. ‘Oh, good, you’re awake,’ he said. ‘I bought us some muffins.’
‘Did we win?’ Ginny asked quickly.
‘Yeah,’ Ron said easily, and Ginny beamed. ‘The Tornados caught up with you a bit after you got knocked out, but Alicia got the snitch.’
‘Brilliant,’ she said happily.
‘You were fantastic,’ Harry told her. ‘Until you got knocked out, obviously.’
‘Yeah,’ said Ron, pulling the other chair closer to the bed with a scrape and sitting down heavily. ‘But listen, you, just because you’ve got the name Potter now doesn’t mean you can just be in and out of here all the time.’
Ginny gasped, and looked at Harry. ‘That must be what it is! It’s your bloody name!’
‘No, it’s not, it’s just… really inconvenient timing,’ said Harry, amused.
‘I mean it, if I start getting horribly injured all the time, I’m going straight back to Weasley.’
‘Well the good thing,’ said Ron thickly as he bit into a muffin and chucked one at Harry. ‘Is that with that name you might be in here all the time, but you won’t actually die. Just worry everyone.’
‘How has Ginny getting knocked out turned into me getting taken the micky out of?’ asked Harry.
Ginny turned to Ron, grinning. ‘He was worried about me.’
‘Hah,’ said Ron. ‘Shoe’s on the other foot, innit?’
‘It looked horrendous!’ insisted Harry. He gaped at Ron. ‘Were you not worried?’
‘Yeah, a bit,’ shrugged Ron. ‘But then the Healers slowed her down before she hit the ground and they were walking onto the pitch - they clearly weren’t worried. This stuff happens all the time in Quidditch. I was shouting after you, but you just ran off, you lunatic.’
‘Aww,’ said Ginny, grinning at Harry. ‘You really were worried, weren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he said firmly, and he raised their linked hands to kiss the back of her fingers. ‘And I’m going to be every time a bludger comes near you.’
Ron made a dismissive sound. ‘She’s fine. Bet you did it on purpose, just to avoid the press, didn’t you?’
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