FIC--When You Figure Out You, Come Back to Me, chapter four by almond_joyz
For ithinkiamlost
Title: When You Figure Out You, Come Back to Me
Author: almond_joyz
Words:
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione
Summary: Accrued vacation time, an injury, and two people who never really got over each other make for an interesting scenario.
Betas: queenb23more and lunalovepotter
"Gonna...kill...Zach," she groaned, wincing against the pain. "Why...why can't I feel my legs?"
Ron looked at Hermione, his lip quivering. Hermione began crying in earnest and Harry just stared at her.
"Ginny, you were hit in the back with a Bludger." The mediwizard's voice was calm yet did nothing to ease the nervousness in the pit of her stomach. "We need to get you to St Mungo's. They'll be able to ascertain what's going on."
"We'll nail Smith for you, Ginny," piped in Gwenog, followed by murmurs of agreement from her teammates. "We'll stop by later."
The medical team lifted her off the ground and a thundering round of applause came from the crowd. She raised a hand in salute to the fans and closed her eyes, hoping that this was just a terrible, horrible dream and that she'd wake up in her nice warm bed at home.
Ginny awoke in a very uncomfortable bed. She tried to stretch but her left arm was fastened to her side. She tried to swing her legs to the side of the bed and escape, but she couldn't move. Panic rose inside her.
"Help! Help! I can't move!" She wanted to flail about but it was no use. Her arm and legs were useless. She wanted answers and wanted them now.
The door swung open, revealing a white-robed Healer, followed closely by Ron, Hermione, Harry, and George. Ron fell into the chair beside the bed and took her right hand.
"Thank Merlin you're awake. There's something we need to talk about."
It really must be bad for Ron's face to be tear-stained and his eyes blotchy.
"I was hit in the back."
"That's right, Miss Weasley." The Healer came closer and opened up her chart. "I'm Damien Langley, the Healer assigned to your case." He sat on the edge of the bed on her left. "Your arm," he said, indicating her left arm with a nod, "is broken in three places. We'll start you on a regiment of SkeleGro in the next few hours."
"Be prepared, Ginny. It's nasty as hell." Harry attempted a smile. He, too, looked as if he'd been run through the mill.
Why is he even here? It's not like he's my best friend.
"Okay. That's going to fix my arm, but why can't I move my legs?" She had to know if her career was over and she didn't want it sugar-coated. "Will I walk again?"
The Healer looked at her brothers and bit his lip.
"Give it to her straight. She doesn't like to be mollycoddled," George advised.
Oh hell. It's bad.
"There's been a tremendous amount of damage." The Healer referred to her chart. "Part of your pelvis was cracked and the sciatic nerve has been compressed. The lower part of your back has been bruised and the spinal cord damaged somewhat."
"Somewhat? Either it has or it hasn't." Ginny's eyes were wide in both anger and anxiety. She would love to launch herself at the Healer and grab him around the neck, but of course, that was impossible.
He cleared his throat, which was an odd break into the silence that filled the room. Weasleys generally were a loud group, and seeing Ron and George so subdued was disconcerting.
"One of your lumbar vertebrae is broken and the piece is digging into the spinal cord. That's what is causing the paralysis. You have several dislocated discs in that area as well."
"But...but you can fix it, right?" she asked, looking from her brothers to the Healer then Harry and Hermione. "There has to be something we can do."
Silence answered her, save for the ticking of the clock. Countless heartbeats passed until the Healer cleared his throat once again.
"Miss Weasley--"
"Ginny, please." She attempted a smile but none came.
"Ginny, I'm afraid that the only thing that will help you is rest, physical therapy, and time."
"But...but what about potions, spells, charms? There has to be something? I can't sit around and just wait to heal." The mere thought of not doing anything constructive made her sick to her stomach.
Hermione laid a hand on her shoulder. "Ginny, sometimes, doing the least amount of intervention is the best way. You know, let Mother Nature heal you."
"I don't believe this! We're magical! Wave a fucking wand and made it better!" She reached for the bedside table, grasping for her wand. Ron stopped her and pocketed her wand.
"You shouldn't do that, Gin."
No one had ever taken her wand away, not even during the Year from Hell at Hogwarts, and she wasn't about to let that happen now.
"Give me. My wand," she said through gritted teeth.
"Better you than me, little brother," George whispered. "Ginny, listen to the man."
The Healer stood up and moved to the foot of the bed. "We have found that dealing with spinal cord injuries with magic is often not the best thing to do. There is a regimen for you that involves stretching, massage, exercise, and daily doses of potions to heal and strengthen the nerves. We also recommend that you not use magic during your recuperation."
"What? I can't use magic? Why not?"
"Use of magic during an extreme time like this would only cause setbacks to your recovery." The Healer wore a fatherly expression, attempting to put her at ease and relax her. "Magic uses a tremendous amount of electrical energy in the body and when your nerves are trying to heal, you can't spare it to perform even the simplest of spells."
"So, what do I do?" She looked around and realised her parents weren't there. "Where're Mum and Dad?"
"Oh!" George ran a hand through his hair. "Fleur's having the baby." Ginny nodded with a smile. "So they're in France. Weather's terrible and making Portkeys dangerous. Mum wants to be here but just can't."
"What about Fleur's mother?" Harry asked.
Hermione bit her lip. "Harry, she died last year." The room fell silent once again. "We told you."
He looked at the floor and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I...I remember now."
"During your recovery, you need someone with you all day, everyday. They will need to supervise your therapy and help you with your exercises. Is there someone available?" The Healer looked at Ron, who shook his head.
"I can't, Gin. I have some extra work for the next month or so." Ron looked pointedly at Harry with a sly smile, making Ginny wonder what was going on between them.
"I'm in the middle of a court case," explained Hermione, looking to George.
"Verity's on maternity leave and since ickle Ronniekins has to cover at the Ministry, he can't work at the shop."
"Mum's gonna be in France for a while, too, and do you really want Dad there, helping you do...you know, everything for you?" Ron raised his eyebrow at the question.
"Oh Merlin." Ginny rolled her eyes. Percy was absolutely out of the question that was for sure. There was no way in hell that she'd let him take care of her. "What if there isn't anyone who can help?"
The Healer sighed heavily. "Well, then you'll have to stay here at the hospital." He looked at his watch.
That was absolutely the worst idea on the face of the earth.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll let you make up your mind while I give a statement to the press. They're anxious for news about you." He patted her shoulder and left the room. Shouts came from the corridor and then stopped sharply.
"I will not stay here any longer than I have to. I'll hire a bloody nurse if I have to," Ginny groaned.
Ginny noticed Ron's eyes darting from Hermione to Harry to George and then back to Harry. His eyebrows rose as if he were silently asking them questions. As this was going on, Harry swallowed over and over again and wrung his hands nervously. After what felt like hours, he nodded.
"I...I'll do it."
What?
_________________________________
It came out of his mouth before he'd thought it through. Ginny's look puzzled him; it was a mixture of astonishment, disbelief, and incredulity.
She laughed. "Oh, that's funny, Harry. President of the Workaholics Club is gonna take time off to watch over me." She glanced over at Ron. "Why isn't anyone else laughing?"
"I'm serious, Ginny. I've got five weeks of vacation time and Kingsley chucked me out of the Ministry until September."
Now there was laughter.
"The Minister for Magic is making you take holiday? Oh that's rich!" George nearly doubled over in laughter. "When was the last time you took time off?"
"George, it's none of your business," came Hermione's sharp reply. She, of course, knew why he'd stopped taking days off. "So it's settled."
"No, nothing's settled," answered Ginny. "I'm not going to be pawned off on Harry and his guilty conscience."
"I'm not feeling guilty about anything!" Harry's voice echoed in the room. "I've known you half my life and think it would be nice to help you get back on your feet. If you'd rather stay in hospital for four weeks, that's just bloody well fine by me!"
Harry turned on his heel and left the room, only to be blinded by a thunderstorm of flashbulbs when he entered the corridor. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights.
Questions fired at him from all around; he couldn't understand anything. The reporters and photographers began crowding around him. He felt his stomach turn and his head throb. The only way to get away was to go back into Ginny's hospital room. He slowly backed up; when he felt the cool wood of the door, he spun back around and re-entered the room, sealing it with his wand.
"...about what he feels?"
He hadn't heard Ginny's full question and remained still by the door. The others hadn't noticed his entrance, as he was blocked from their view by the curtain.
"Ginny, he bought the tickets. He asked us to go with him. On the way over to the pitch, all he could talk about was you."
Thanks so much for sharing, Ron.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better? I don't know if I can deal with another heartache." Ginny's voice was starting to crack.
"You made that one yourself. You're the one who told him you needed space, not him," Hermione reminded her. "It's been four years of space."
Harry was torn between heading back out into the conclave of reporters and making his presence known to his friends. He cleared his throat and stepped forward to reveal himself.
"Have...have you made a decision yet?"
Ginny's eyes locked with his and for a moment, they were the only two people in the room. He silently pleaded with her to give him a chance, a chance to get his life back, a chance to make things right between them, and hopefully, a chance to find his way back into her heart.
"Harry..."
"I live on the ground floor. It's not that far from here, so it wouldn't be that hard to come here for therapy. I don't have to work, so I can help you with the exercises." He sounded pitiful and was sure Ginny could see right through his excuses. "And...and I miss you."
There, he'd said it. It was a risk and it would most likely blow up in his face; she'd reject him again and his life would continue along the lonely path just as it had for the past four years.
"I miss you, too, Harry." She bit her lower lip. "But you don't have to do this."
He walked toward her bed and sat at her immobile feet. "I want to. You need someone and I'm offering. At least until your parents get back?"
Inside, he hoped that she'd stay after that.
"Okay."
Harry smiled so wide that he thought his face would split.
"Brilliant," he whispered.
"Thank, Merlin. Thought you'd never get that settled." Ron's voice startled them both. It seemed as if she forgot there were others in the room as well.
Ginny's face flushed and Harry could feel warmth on his own cheeks.
Maybe this is the new beginning I was hoping for....
In the morning, Harry returned to St. Mungo's to learn the at-home exercises he was supposed to help Ginny with. The therapy room was brightly coloured with all sorts of apparatus that reminded him of a gymnastics classroom. There were also several large balls, reminiscent of beach balls. He realised that a majority of the equipment was Muggle.
"Why's there all this Muggle stuff?"
The therapist looked up and gave him a bright smile.
She's pretty when she smiles, Harry thought.
"Are you here to help Ginevra?" Her voice was light and lilting with a touch of an Australian accent.
"Er, uh yeah. I'm Harry." He shuffled nervously and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Where is she?"
"In her room, mate. Go get her." She smiled again. "You're her legs and you better get used to doing that, so go ahead and start."
He nodded and made his way down the corridor toward Ginny's room, whistling brightly. A cute therapist and close contact with Ginny; it was bound to be a good day. At the door, he knocked and pushed it open a bit.
"Gin? You ready?"
"You're late. I have to pee so you better get your arse in here and help me."
He stopped halfway inside the door. I have to take her to the bathroom?
"NOW, Harry!"
His brain sent the message to his legs and he began walking toward her. She sat in her hospital gown, perched on the bed, wearing an angry look upon her face. He stood to her side and put an arm around her waist, lifting her the way he had been shown the previous day. When she was on her feet, he realised that the wheelchair was still by the opposite wall.
"Accio wheelchair!" The chair rolled quietly over to them and he managed to settle her into the seat. "You wanna wheel or should I?"
"I can, but you'll have to help me in the loo." She didn't appear to be enjoying the situation either. "Come on."
He followed her inexpert movements toward to small bathroom in the corner of the room. The chair didn't fit inside the door, so he had to help her up again. Once he got her settled onto the commode, he backed away, not wanting to see or hear what she had to do. With the door shut firmly behind him, he let out a breath and leaned against the wall.
"What was I thinking?" He hadn't thought about bringing her to and from the bathroom. Would he have to bathe her, too? That image was just too much for him to comprehend and found himself suddenly and inappropriately aroused.
"Harry."
"Yeah, Gin?"
"Can you bring me some clothes? Hermione brought some sweats and stuff. My toothbrush is in there, too."
He crossed the room and found her rucksack, groaning as he opened it up. Lying on top was a pair of lacy knickers. He'd never seen her knickers before and this only served to entice him even more. He fought the urge to lift them to his nose and breathe in her scent.
"Stop being a pervert, Potter," he chastised himself. His aching cock didn't understand his command and throbbed against his jeans.
"Harry, hurry up!"
He shook his head and just grabbed the whole thing, not wanting to subject himself to whatever else was inside the bag. He quickly opened the door and tossed the bag to her as she sat on the toilet. Before he could close the door, she grunted. The bag lay out of her reach and he had no choice but to enter.
"S-sorry." He bent over and handed her the bag, placing it on her lap.
"Look, this isn't fun for me, either. Maybe we should reconsider this. I'll stay here until Mum gets back."
He sighed and crouched down in front of her. "No...no, I can do it. What do you need?"
As it turned out, helping Ginny get dressed was difficult; they had to manage getting her knickers and pants pulled up, and her socks onto her feet. He tried to look away as she pulled her garments over the rise of her bum, but part of him couldn't help but catch a glimpse of her firm backside. He bit his lower lip and turned away.
Once she was dressed and had her hair and teeth brushed, they made their way down to the physical therapy room. Serena, the physical therapist, was very professional and showed both him and Ginny the exercises she needed to do at home. He learned how to put resistance on her legs as she tried to push up against him and how to help her get dressed without the awkwardness of their earlier attempt. Ginny tried valiantly to walk along the parallel bars but collapsed on them after a few steps. She had a long way to go.
"Now Harry, do you understand everything? You're supposed to help her, not do it for her. She'll never get better if you do," Serena reminded him.
"I know. I'll make her work for it." He stared at Ginny and without thinking, waggled his eyebrows at her.
Ginny's eyes widened and she looked as if she was going to say something but there was no witty comeback.
"The home equipment has been sent to your flat and you're to be back here every morning at ten and each afternoon at four for PT." Serena stood up and walked around to the back of the wheelchair. "You'll do simple weight-bearing exercises at home and lower body massages before bed." She began pushing Ginny out of the therapy room.
"Low...lower body massages?" Harry asked in a strangled voice.
"Yeah, Harry, you get to run your hands over my thighs with massage oil," Ginny teased. It was his turn to be rendered speechless.
What have I got myself into?
Title: When You Figure Out You, Come Back to Me
Author: almond_joyz
Words:
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione
Summary: Accrued vacation time, an injury, and two people who never really got over each other make for an interesting scenario.
Betas: queenb23more and lunalovepotter
"Gonna...kill...Zach," she groaned, wincing against the pain. "Why...why can't I feel my legs?"
Ron looked at Hermione, his lip quivering. Hermione began crying in earnest and Harry just stared at her.
"Ginny, you were hit in the back with a Bludger." The mediwizard's voice was calm yet did nothing to ease the nervousness in the pit of her stomach. "We need to get you to St Mungo's. They'll be able to ascertain what's going on."
"We'll nail Smith for you, Ginny," piped in Gwenog, followed by murmurs of agreement from her teammates. "We'll stop by later."
The medical team lifted her off the ground and a thundering round of applause came from the crowd. She raised a hand in salute to the fans and closed her eyes, hoping that this was just a terrible, horrible dream and that she'd wake up in her nice warm bed at home.
Ginny awoke in a very uncomfortable bed. She tried to stretch but her left arm was fastened to her side. She tried to swing her legs to the side of the bed and escape, but she couldn't move. Panic rose inside her.
"Help! Help! I can't move!" She wanted to flail about but it was no use. Her arm and legs were useless. She wanted answers and wanted them now.
The door swung open, revealing a white-robed Healer, followed closely by Ron, Hermione, Harry, and George. Ron fell into the chair beside the bed and took her right hand.
"Thank Merlin you're awake. There's something we need to talk about."
It really must be bad for Ron's face to be tear-stained and his eyes blotchy.
"I was hit in the back."
"That's right, Miss Weasley." The Healer came closer and opened up her chart. "I'm Damien Langley, the Healer assigned to your case." He sat on the edge of the bed on her left. "Your arm," he said, indicating her left arm with a nod, "is broken in three places. We'll start you on a regiment of SkeleGro in the next few hours."
"Be prepared, Ginny. It's nasty as hell." Harry attempted a smile. He, too, looked as if he'd been run through the mill.
Why is he even here? It's not like he's my best friend.
"Okay. That's going to fix my arm, but why can't I move my legs?" She had to know if her career was over and she didn't want it sugar-coated. "Will I walk again?"
The Healer looked at her brothers and bit his lip.
"Give it to her straight. She doesn't like to be mollycoddled," George advised.
Oh hell. It's bad.
"There's been a tremendous amount of damage." The Healer referred to her chart. "Part of your pelvis was cracked and the sciatic nerve has been compressed. The lower part of your back has been bruised and the spinal cord damaged somewhat."
"Somewhat? Either it has or it hasn't." Ginny's eyes were wide in both anger and anxiety. She would love to launch herself at the Healer and grab him around the neck, but of course, that was impossible.
He cleared his throat, which was an odd break into the silence that filled the room. Weasleys generally were a loud group, and seeing Ron and George so subdued was disconcerting.
"One of your lumbar vertebrae is broken and the piece is digging into the spinal cord. That's what is causing the paralysis. You have several dislocated discs in that area as well."
"But...but you can fix it, right?" she asked, looking from her brothers to the Healer then Harry and Hermione. "There has to be something we can do."
Silence answered her, save for the ticking of the clock. Countless heartbeats passed until the Healer cleared his throat once again.
"Miss Weasley--"
"Ginny, please." She attempted a smile but none came.
"Ginny, I'm afraid that the only thing that will help you is rest, physical therapy, and time."
"But...but what about potions, spells, charms? There has to be something? I can't sit around and just wait to heal." The mere thought of not doing anything constructive made her sick to her stomach.
Hermione laid a hand on her shoulder. "Ginny, sometimes, doing the least amount of intervention is the best way. You know, let Mother Nature heal you."
"I don't believe this! We're magical! Wave a fucking wand and made it better!" She reached for the bedside table, grasping for her wand. Ron stopped her and pocketed her wand.
"You shouldn't do that, Gin."
No one had ever taken her wand away, not even during the Year from Hell at Hogwarts, and she wasn't about to let that happen now.
"Give me. My wand," she said through gritted teeth.
"Better you than me, little brother," George whispered. "Ginny, listen to the man."
The Healer stood up and moved to the foot of the bed. "We have found that dealing with spinal cord injuries with magic is often not the best thing to do. There is a regimen for you that involves stretching, massage, exercise, and daily doses of potions to heal and strengthen the nerves. We also recommend that you not use magic during your recuperation."
"What? I can't use magic? Why not?"
"Use of magic during an extreme time like this would only cause setbacks to your recovery." The Healer wore a fatherly expression, attempting to put her at ease and relax her. "Magic uses a tremendous amount of electrical energy in the body and when your nerves are trying to heal, you can't spare it to perform even the simplest of spells."
"So, what do I do?" She looked around and realised her parents weren't there. "Where're Mum and Dad?"
"Oh!" George ran a hand through his hair. "Fleur's having the baby." Ginny nodded with a smile. "So they're in France. Weather's terrible and making Portkeys dangerous. Mum wants to be here but just can't."
"What about Fleur's mother?" Harry asked.
Hermione bit her lip. "Harry, she died last year." The room fell silent once again. "We told you."
He looked at the floor and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I...I remember now."
"During your recovery, you need someone with you all day, everyday. They will need to supervise your therapy and help you with your exercises. Is there someone available?" The Healer looked at Ron, who shook his head.
"I can't, Gin. I have some extra work for the next month or so." Ron looked pointedly at Harry with a sly smile, making Ginny wonder what was going on between them.
"I'm in the middle of a court case," explained Hermione, looking to George.
"Verity's on maternity leave and since ickle Ronniekins has to cover at the Ministry, he can't work at the shop."
"Mum's gonna be in France for a while, too, and do you really want Dad there, helping you do...you know, everything for you?" Ron raised his eyebrow at the question.
"Oh Merlin." Ginny rolled her eyes. Percy was absolutely out of the question that was for sure. There was no way in hell that she'd let him take care of her. "What if there isn't anyone who can help?"
The Healer sighed heavily. "Well, then you'll have to stay here at the hospital." He looked at his watch.
That was absolutely the worst idea on the face of the earth.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll let you make up your mind while I give a statement to the press. They're anxious for news about you." He patted her shoulder and left the room. Shouts came from the corridor and then stopped sharply.
"I will not stay here any longer than I have to. I'll hire a bloody nurse if I have to," Ginny groaned.
Ginny noticed Ron's eyes darting from Hermione to Harry to George and then back to Harry. His eyebrows rose as if he were silently asking them questions. As this was going on, Harry swallowed over and over again and wrung his hands nervously. After what felt like hours, he nodded.
"I...I'll do it."
What?
_________________________________
It came out of his mouth before he'd thought it through. Ginny's look puzzled him; it was a mixture of astonishment, disbelief, and incredulity.
She laughed. "Oh, that's funny, Harry. President of the Workaholics Club is gonna take time off to watch over me." She glanced over at Ron. "Why isn't anyone else laughing?"
"I'm serious, Ginny. I've got five weeks of vacation time and Kingsley chucked me out of the Ministry until September."
Now there was laughter.
"The Minister for Magic is making you take holiday? Oh that's rich!" George nearly doubled over in laughter. "When was the last time you took time off?"
"George, it's none of your business," came Hermione's sharp reply. She, of course, knew why he'd stopped taking days off. "So it's settled."
"No, nothing's settled," answered Ginny. "I'm not going to be pawned off on Harry and his guilty conscience."
"I'm not feeling guilty about anything!" Harry's voice echoed in the room. "I've known you half my life and think it would be nice to help you get back on your feet. If you'd rather stay in hospital for four weeks, that's just bloody well fine by me!"
Harry turned on his heel and left the room, only to be blinded by a thunderstorm of flashbulbs when he entered the corridor. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights.
Questions fired at him from all around; he couldn't understand anything. The reporters and photographers began crowding around him. He felt his stomach turn and his head throb. The only way to get away was to go back into Ginny's hospital room. He slowly backed up; when he felt the cool wood of the door, he spun back around and re-entered the room, sealing it with his wand.
"...about what he feels?"
He hadn't heard Ginny's full question and remained still by the door. The others hadn't noticed his entrance, as he was blocked from their view by the curtain.
"Ginny, he bought the tickets. He asked us to go with him. On the way over to the pitch, all he could talk about was you."
Thanks so much for sharing, Ron.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better? I don't know if I can deal with another heartache." Ginny's voice was starting to crack.
"You made that one yourself. You're the one who told him you needed space, not him," Hermione reminded her. "It's been four years of space."
Harry was torn between heading back out into the conclave of reporters and making his presence known to his friends. He cleared his throat and stepped forward to reveal himself.
"Have...have you made a decision yet?"
Ginny's eyes locked with his and for a moment, they were the only two people in the room. He silently pleaded with her to give him a chance, a chance to get his life back, a chance to make things right between them, and hopefully, a chance to find his way back into her heart.
"Harry..."
"I live on the ground floor. It's not that far from here, so it wouldn't be that hard to come here for therapy. I don't have to work, so I can help you with the exercises." He sounded pitiful and was sure Ginny could see right through his excuses. "And...and I miss you."
There, he'd said it. It was a risk and it would most likely blow up in his face; she'd reject him again and his life would continue along the lonely path just as it had for the past four years.
"I miss you, too, Harry." She bit her lower lip. "But you don't have to do this."
He walked toward her bed and sat at her immobile feet. "I want to. You need someone and I'm offering. At least until your parents get back?"
Inside, he hoped that she'd stay after that.
"Okay."
Harry smiled so wide that he thought his face would split.
"Brilliant," he whispered.
"Thank, Merlin. Thought you'd never get that settled." Ron's voice startled them both. It seemed as if she forgot there were others in the room as well.
Ginny's face flushed and Harry could feel warmth on his own cheeks.
Maybe this is the new beginning I was hoping for....
In the morning, Harry returned to St. Mungo's to learn the at-home exercises he was supposed to help Ginny with. The therapy room was brightly coloured with all sorts of apparatus that reminded him of a gymnastics classroom. There were also several large balls, reminiscent of beach balls. He realised that a majority of the equipment was Muggle.
"Why's there all this Muggle stuff?"
The therapist looked up and gave him a bright smile.
She's pretty when she smiles, Harry thought.
"Are you here to help Ginevra?" Her voice was light and lilting with a touch of an Australian accent.
"Er, uh yeah. I'm Harry." He shuffled nervously and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Where is she?"
"In her room, mate. Go get her." She smiled again. "You're her legs and you better get used to doing that, so go ahead and start."
He nodded and made his way down the corridor toward Ginny's room, whistling brightly. A cute therapist and close contact with Ginny; it was bound to be a good day. At the door, he knocked and pushed it open a bit.
"Gin? You ready?"
"You're late. I have to pee so you better get your arse in here and help me."
He stopped halfway inside the door. I have to take her to the bathroom?
"NOW, Harry!"
His brain sent the message to his legs and he began walking toward her. She sat in her hospital gown, perched on the bed, wearing an angry look upon her face. He stood to her side and put an arm around her waist, lifting her the way he had been shown the previous day. When she was on her feet, he realised that the wheelchair was still by the opposite wall.
"Accio wheelchair!" The chair rolled quietly over to them and he managed to settle her into the seat. "You wanna wheel or should I?"
"I can, but you'll have to help me in the loo." She didn't appear to be enjoying the situation either. "Come on."
He followed her inexpert movements toward to small bathroom in the corner of the room. The chair didn't fit inside the door, so he had to help her up again. Once he got her settled onto the commode, he backed away, not wanting to see or hear what she had to do. With the door shut firmly behind him, he let out a breath and leaned against the wall.
"What was I thinking?" He hadn't thought about bringing her to and from the bathroom. Would he have to bathe her, too? That image was just too much for him to comprehend and found himself suddenly and inappropriately aroused.
"Harry."
"Yeah, Gin?"
"Can you bring me some clothes? Hermione brought some sweats and stuff. My toothbrush is in there, too."
He crossed the room and found her rucksack, groaning as he opened it up. Lying on top was a pair of lacy knickers. He'd never seen her knickers before and this only served to entice him even more. He fought the urge to lift them to his nose and breathe in her scent.
"Stop being a pervert, Potter," he chastised himself. His aching cock didn't understand his command and throbbed against his jeans.
"Harry, hurry up!"
He shook his head and just grabbed the whole thing, not wanting to subject himself to whatever else was inside the bag. He quickly opened the door and tossed the bag to her as she sat on the toilet. Before he could close the door, she grunted. The bag lay out of her reach and he had no choice but to enter.
"S-sorry." He bent over and handed her the bag, placing it on her lap.
"Look, this isn't fun for me, either. Maybe we should reconsider this. I'll stay here until Mum gets back."
He sighed and crouched down in front of her. "No...no, I can do it. What do you need?"
As it turned out, helping Ginny get dressed was difficult; they had to manage getting her knickers and pants pulled up, and her socks onto her feet. He tried to look away as she pulled her garments over the rise of her bum, but part of him couldn't help but catch a glimpse of her firm backside. He bit his lower lip and turned away.
Once she was dressed and had her hair and teeth brushed, they made their way down to the physical therapy room. Serena, the physical therapist, was very professional and showed both him and Ginny the exercises she needed to do at home. He learned how to put resistance on her legs as she tried to push up against him and how to help her get dressed without the awkwardness of their earlier attempt. Ginny tried valiantly to walk along the parallel bars but collapsed on them after a few steps. She had a long way to go.
"Now Harry, do you understand everything? You're supposed to help her, not do it for her. She'll never get better if you do," Serena reminded him.
"I know. I'll make her work for it." He stared at Ginny and without thinking, waggled his eyebrows at her.
Ginny's eyes widened and she looked as if she was going to say something but there was no witty comeback.
"The home equipment has been sent to your flat and you're to be back here every morning at ten and each afternoon at four for PT." Serena stood up and walked around to the back of the wheelchair. "You'll do simple weight-bearing exercises at home and lower body massages before bed." She began pushing Ginny out of the therapy room.
"Low...lower body massages?" Harry asked in a strangled voice.
"Yeah, Harry, you get to run your hands over my thighs with massage oil," Ginny teased. It was his turn to be rendered speechless.
What have I got myself into?