What she wants (is not what she truly needs)
Summary: After a potion accident, Ginny's left suffering its effects. Harry's there to help her through it, but he soon realizes that while thinking her wants were his to fulfill, he'd forgotten her needs.
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The pale, gibbous moon was striking against the dusky blue sky. It had untimely risen and though — as Harry looked up — it looked faded, clouded by the brilliance of the blue, it sat against the sky as if seated in a throne amongst the clouds.
Any other day and he'd not have cared. As long as the moon stayed in its place in the sky and didn't come hurtling down to the ground, he was perfectly fine with ignoring it.
No, what was important was the fact thatGinny was late.
It didn't help his case that he had been waiting for her for over an hour now.
Harry remembered the first time Ginny had been late. He'd done what he did best and that was rushing into the Harpies' stadium, convinced his girlfriend was in the clutches of some crazed genocidal maniac who'd use her as bait to lure him in. He'd quite nearly hexed the guards there when they'd pointed out the no outsiders warning taped on the door.
As if he didn't know that. He'd put up the sign himself.
Threatening to hex them had worked, though, and they'd let him in soon after that — it at least explained the nasty looks they sent his way every time he came to pick Gin up. Harry remembered rushing in that day and bombardingthe door leading to the grounds into fine splinters. It was only after he'd seen Ginny on her Firebolt Primus, hovering a few metres off the ground and staring at him with what was shock and concern, had he calmed down. Of course, she had been a vital factor in that, proceeding to tick him off after in true Molly Weasley fashion.
He'd not regretted it though.
He'd not broken in again nevertheless — though he'd come very close once or twice — partly because he'd figured the guards were traumatised enough and partly because he was afraid of what Ginny'd do to him if it happened again.
So with no other viable option possible, he'd retreated so his back was pressed against the wall, his hands crossed over his chest. Every other second, he glanced at the Muggle watch Hermione had gifted to him on his birthday and then to the glass door to the stadium, hoping every time he looked, he'd see those beautiful brown eyes sparkling as they'd come out the door.
The next time he looked up though, instead of Ginny coming out with that dazzling smile of hers, he recognized one of her teammates.
He knew her as the reserve beater on the Harpies and Harry recognized her solely because he'd had Ginny point her out on multiple occasions, saying she deserved to be in the team but had been held back due to legalities. He'd talked to her before, shy girl she was, and they'd mostly just stood around until she'd admitted he was daunting.
He remembered Ginny laughing after she'd said that, and him being horrified.
"Angila, hey!" he called now as he stood up to his full height, not failing to take note of how worn the girl looked and how she didn't have her gear with her like Ginny normally did after practice. "Gin, is she done?"
"You need to come in, Harry," she said, skirting around his question but he could see the distinct worry in her eyes. Harry frowned at her, before taking off towards the door.
He didn't need her to say anything more; something had gone wrong.
"Where is she?" he yelled over his shoulder as Angie sped to catch up with him.
"Changing room," she yelled back. "Last door to the right."
And he sped, his mind clouded with fear as he ran where Angie had pointed.
He'd heard about people getting hit with them and losing their memory. Completely blank about the life they'd lived.
But surely Angie would have said something if something like that had happened. Wouldn't she?
Or maybe she hadn't because she had wanted to break it to him slowly. People believed in rubbish like that, as if breaking it slowly or quickly would do anything to lessen the gravity of the situation.
Gwenog Jones was leaning against the door to the changing room and he came to a stop as he saw her. "Where is she?" he asked. "What happened?"
"Potion accident," Gwenog replied curtly. "Ginny's fine, though," she said as she saw the look on his face. "You," she sighed, "you should just—"
She stepped aside. "Go talk to her yourself."
He didn't have to be told twice. Harry pushed open the door, eyes immediately on a red blanket with the Harpies' logo emblazoned on it, Ginny's red hair peeking out from under it. Her eyes were closed and he could see the blanket rising at a steady pace.
She was breathing. Sleeping, but it did nothing to calm his frenzied brain.
Coma. He'd heard it happen to Quidditch players. Bludger in the head, person gone for the next two years.
"Ginny?" Harry called, and he could sense the desperation in his voice as he crouched down beside her. "Gin, wake up," he begged, "wake up."
His voice cracked, and he didn't know if it was the panic or the anger playing as he gently brushed her hair back. "Gin," he tried again. "Ginevra."
"Don't call me that," she mumbled, and Harry nearly cried in relief upon hearing her voice. "Can't let a woman sleep in peace, can you?"
Her hand reached out from under her blanket and caught his, bringing him closer to her. He let her, for there was nothing else he'd have liked more.
"Potion gone wrong, if you were wondering," she explained softly. "We needed an extra edge to the game with Puddlemere this week, and Clarita suggested a limb-heightening potion. I was stupid enough to try it first, so here I am."
"What potion?" Harry frowned, before realising it was not the question he should have been asking. "Wait, what's it going to do now? Surely there's an antidote to this —"
"Nope," Ginny said, pursing her lips and Harry's heart skipped a beat as he saw her eyelids fluttering shut.
"Gin, don't sleep! Ginny!"
"Harry, stop panicking, I'm not going into a coma," Ginny chuckled, "the potion was supposed to increase my stamina. We must have done something wrong because it's doing the exact opposite. There's no other option but to wait for it to neutralize."
"It's just going to make me sleepy," she explained.
He waited a second. "You're saying it's basically harmless then," he stated slowly, as if he was having trouble believing it himself.
"Basically. But I'll be fine."
"You'll be fine," Harry repeated again and then sighed in relief. "Thank Merlin, I thought something bad had happened, bloody nearly gave me a scare."
"This is bad, too, you know," Ginny said. "I'm sitting out the next match. And the one after that too if this doesn't get better by then."
He agreed with that, but couldn't help but grin. This was good, of course, not entirely, but he'd take this any day over anything he'd thought about.
"You know, I'd tell you to stop smiling," Ginny started, "but I know it'll make no difference."
"Rightly said, Miss Weasley," and he bent forward and picked her up, still grinning. Ginny yelped and he laughed as she brought her hands around his neck.
He looked at her and in a moment of impulse, leaned forward and kissed her, slightly dipping her down and Ginny shrieked again, laughing as Harry brought her back.
"What, you don't trust me?"
"A bit too much, in fact, Mr. Potter."
"What were you thinking?"
"You need it, Gin," Harry said, matter-of-factly. "I asked Hermione and she said this was the best option."
"Hermione told you to buy an entire shop's worth of energy bars?"
"No," he said, "but I figured it was for the best." He was being patient, unnaturally so, but this was the third time Ginny had yelled at him that day, and he was trying to be calm, to look at it from her eyes, but it was becoming increasingly hard to do so. But he could see that that was what she wanted of him, so he did it.
He could see how frustrated she'd been for the past four days, dealing with her lack of energy, and he'd tried making it better for her but it hadn't worked, and now he was running out of options. "You'll need it," he said after Ginny didn't answer. "They're good for you."
"Oh, I know," she snarled, "hand me the bill, Harry."
Harry sighed and relented, handing over the scrap bit of paper he'd stuffed in his pocket. He watched as her eyes skimmed over the page and winced, damn well knowing what was to come. Sure he'd gone over a bit, maybe more than a bit, but it was for the greater good.
No, she'd yell if he told her that.
No, that wouldn't do either.
"Two hundred pounds?" Ginny started quietly, and Harry, for a brief second, wished she'd yell instead of using that tone. "You spent two hundred pounds on this?"
"To be fair, there are a lot of flavours here," he defended and cringed.
"Don't yell, please," Harry sighed. "Yell at me later, Gin, but not now, it'll drain you out."
"Oh, so I'm supposed to ask for your permission now, huh?" she retorted and then paused for a second, whatever she wanted to say next, lost to the world. He watched her turn towards the stairs and shake her head once, twice.
"You're right," she said finally, and he could sense a defined resignation in her voice. "I'm going up."
She was exhausted, he realized. More than she was letting on. She had been since the potion accident and the yelling had not helped.
For the past four days, all he had seen was her driving herself to exhaustion and he'd said nothing. Said nothing as he watched her struggle to a point where she could barely keep herself awake. He'd said nothing because he knew that was what she needed. He couldn't put it in words, but he'd kept his distance, helping when required.
Because that was what Ginny needed.
So he said nothing as she made her way up the stairs, their argument forgotten as he watched her climb the blocks, one at a time.
She answered after a second and when she did so, she sounded out of breath."Yeah?"
And Harry sighed, wondering if that was what she truly needed.
"Gin?" Harry called, knocking on the door thrice in succession before sighing. "Gin, can I come in?"
He'd never had to ask before, but Ginny'd never locked him out like this. Ever. Sometimes, she'd lock the door to their room out of habit but Harry understood that, seeing how she had lived with six boys before and needed her own privacy. But with him, she'd never hid.
"I'm coming in," he stated when he got no response, taking out his wand to produce a quick unlocking spell.
He stepped back as he heard her voice, out of habit, searching for signs showing she might be hurt. He found none.
"Are you okay in there Gin?"
"Right," he replied, finding nothing else to say back. "Ginny?" he asked after a second. "Can I come in?"
"Please don't," he heard her say and he looked at the door, hoping he could see her through it. "Just," she sighed, "please just leave me alone, Harry."
No, he wanted to say. I won't. He wanted to go in and he wanted to hold her while she fell asleep, hoping that that would fade her problems away.
But he settled on saying, "okay," because that was what she wanted and that was what she needed, so he'd do that for her.
"I love you," he said as he rested his forehead against the door. He didn't know what else to say.
The past week had been rough, for her, and for him, but even through all of it, he needed her to know how much he loved her. Part of him thought she wouldn't say it back, the other part wishing she would.
"I love you too," she said finally and he nodded, very well knowing she couldn't see him. But nonetheless, he wanted her to know. And even though she couldn't see him, he knew she'd know. She always did.
So he turned to leave, because that was what she needed from him and he'd do whatever he could, if that meant she was okay.
He didn't make any noise as he turned towards the stairs, his footsteps silent against the floor.
"Harry?" he heard her call and immediately turned towards the door, wand at the ready to perform the slightest spell required.
"Tell Gwenog I'm out for the week."
The night was a special kind of blackness he noticed, the kind that wanted only to hold the stars and help them shine all the brighter.
He tried but Harry couldn't appreciate its beauty. With Ginny to point it out, it had come easily, looking for the tiny points of light hidden in the murky darkness. The one who could spot the most stars won.
Perhaps, that is why, as he stepped into the training grounds, he wasn't bothered by the lack of stars in the sky.
She wasn't there with him this time.
He didn't know why he was there. Why he had come all the way to the Harpies' training grounds when he could have spent it with Ginny at home. He'd figured it was the fear playing, the dread he'd feel if she locked him out again. If he had to watch her push herself to exhaustion one more time. Or perhaps, it was simply because he wanted to understand the allure that had brought her here in the first place.
Maybe she did, but he couldn't.
"Is she okay?" He heard a voice behind him, and he knew it was Gwenog. She was the only one here after hours, the only one crazy enough to do so, Ginny had said. Gwenog lived and breathed Quidditch, she'd told him. That, while it was a much loved career for her, it was an entire life for Gwenog.
For a second, he contemplated saying no, for it was the truth. Ginny wasn't okay and Harry didn't know what to do.
But he couldn't say that, and he took his time turning around, smiling wearily at the sight of the Harpies' captain. "I don't know," he decided at last, and Gwenog nodded as if she'd expected him to say that.
"She can't play in this week's match," he said plainly, holding back any expression that might give him away.
"No, you mean she told you she couldn't play or are you —"
"No, she told me to tell you."
Gwenog frowned, her eyes disbelieving and Harry glared at her.
"You can't possibly expect her to play in this state," he said angrily. "She can barely walk, goddamn it!"
"I didn't mean that," Gwenog frowned. "Ginny's….just never one for admitting things like this. I expected you to knock some sense into her. Not-not like this."
And that was true. He'd seen her play Quidditch with a fractured leg and a bludger to her ribs, goddamn it, and she'd done so brilliantly.
Gwenog was right. This was not the Ginny he knew. Not the Ginny he loved.
Had things become so bad that Gwenog had needed to step in to make him realize that things were not as it seemed? That Ginny was simply not okay? That maybe, just maybe, her struggling day in and out was her way of dealing with this?
"I have to go," he announced and Gwenog nodded, though her lips were still set in a frown.
But Harry knew she understood.
This time he didn't knock.
This time he knew well enough.
He found her on her bed as he walked in, curled up under her blanket. She wasn't sleeping, for the rise and fall of her figure was erratic. Not fast, but it wasn't constant either, like it did while she was sleeping.
"Harry?" Ginny turned and Harry could see her trying to hold her tears in. He didn't know how long she had been doing this, how long she'd been struggling with what he couldn't help with.
"I thought you might need me here," he said and he offered a shrug as Ginny looked at him.
"I don't need anything now, Harry."
"We don't always have to need each other, do we?" he asked as he laid down beside her on the bed, gently pulling her close to him. Ginny sighed, pausing before she gave in and rested her head on his shoulder.
"I suppose not," she said and he could hear her voice wavering ever so slightly.
The problem, he realised, was that the feeling of need was unknown to them both. Harry knew not to need from a very young age, but Ginny... Ginny knew how fast need could be turned into a trap. The need to be independent had been taught to her in the hardest way possible. Without it, he realized, she felt helpless. By thinking her wants were his to fulfill, he'd forgotten her needs.
For he realized, want and need were two very different things.
He needed Ginny, needed her more than he could ever comprehend.
And he knew Ginny felt the same.
