Dark of the Soul

Chapter Three: Hope Has a Place

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"Off with you all, this is a hospital wing, not a meeting hall," Madam Pomfrey said and shooed at the Gryffindor Quidditch team gathered around Ginny Weasley´s bed. All the others filed out but Ron, Hermione and Harry remained.

"I want to stay, at least until she wakes up," Harry spoke up, anger made his voice clipped. "This is my fault."

"Really, Harry, that´s ridiculous," Hermione said, tutting under her breath. "How could you possibly be responsible for an out-of-control Bludger?"

"Yeah, it´s just rotten luck. Ginny knows the dangers; she´ll be her old self when she wakes up. Come on." Ron pulled at his arm. "When she´s awake you´ll let us know?" This he said to Madam Pomfrey who nodded.

"That´s right." Her voice was gentle, a measuring gaze on Harry then on Ginny. "Mending bones is painful and she´ll need time and quiet." She bustled away to tidy up the area where she had tended and then released Seamus, Neville and Hilary. They had sustained only minor injuries.

"I´m staying," Harry repeated as if he hadn´t heard anything Ron, Hermione or Madam Pomfrey had said. "It´s better if I stay, because if you make me leave I´m going to find Crabbe and Goyle, curse off their heads and shove them up their--"

"Harry!" Hermione interrupted, her eyebrows rising into her hairline.

"Can I help?" Ron sniggered but then sobered. "Do you think one of them did it on purpose?"

"I don´t think, I know." He told them about seeing Ahab talking to Ginny. "After that, Ginny kept dropping the Quaffle. And you know, she was unusually nervous before the game. She knew something, maybe she knew they were going after her."

Ron´s eyebrows came together. "I did spend an usual amount of time whacking the Bludgers away from her. And she was dropping the Quaffle a lot."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I didn´t see anything and I watched the whole match."

Harry grunted, his eyes on Ginny´s pallid, quiet face. "You were just too busy watching Ron to notice anything else."

Ron snickered again and Hermione glared at the back of Harry´s head. "You two are just making this up to start a fight with Malfoy."

"We don´t have to make anything up to start a fight with him or any of the Slytherins. Right, Harry?" Ron began to roll up the sleeves of his Quidditch uniform. "You can stay here, I´ll finish `em off."

Hermione laid a hand on his arm. "No. You´re. Not," she enunciated each word carefully like she was speaking to a simpleton. "We really don´t know if it was intentional and fighting will just get you detention."

"It´d be worth it." Ron looked crestfallen.

Hermione pursed her lips and crinkled up her nose. "All you need to do is get near one of them and your body odor will Stupefy them."

"Are you telling me I stink?" He sniffed an armpit and grimaced. "Bloody hell, I smell like a race horse."

"Ridden hard and put away wet," Hermione said and took his arm. "Shower and lots of soap for you, and perhaps it´ll cool your temper."

"Alright. Will you scrub my back then?" Ron asked hopefully.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him. "You wish. Talk later, Harry," she said. "And you should know that you don´t smell like a rose garden either," she called out as they left.

Harry smiled. He believed her, and unlike Ron he wasn´t about to take a sniff. He sobered when the door closed and he looked at Ginny Weasley lying silently on the bed, her skin almost as white as the sheets. Her eyelashes made a brown-red fringe against her pale cheeks. Anger squeezed his stomach and he unconsciously clenched his hands. Her clumsiness during the last half of the game and that Bludger attack were not accidents, he was certain of it. His anger, having no where to go, just raged around inside him until the half-full glass of water on Ginny´s bed table trembled, fell and shattered on the floor with a loud CRACK! He jumped and stared at the broken glass.

"Damn," he muttered. He didn´t have his wand with him so he went to look for something to mop up the water and clean up the glass. There was a towel hanging over one of the chairs. He went down on his hands and knees, his Quidditch cape pooled around him, and began wiping up the water.

"Harry Potter, what are you doing?" a weak but inquisitive voice ask.

"Ginny! Ouch!" He tried to get up and instead bumped his head on the night table and cut his finger on a piece of glass. A bright bead of red blood welled up on his finger. Sitting back on his knees, he found himself eye to eye with Ginny Weasley. She had, he noticed, very soft brown eyes.

"You´re bleeding!" she said.

"Uh... it´s nothing really." Harry tore his gaze away from her and looked at his bleeding fingertip.

"No, let me see." She took his hand. "Come on, Harry. Stop being a coward."

Harry raised his eyebrows but said nothing. She sounded so like Mrs. Weasley sometimes. He sat on the edge of the bed while she inspected his finger. It was nothing in light of what happened to her but it seemed to make her happy.

"How do you feel," he finally asked.

"My side really hurts." She dabbed at the blood on his finger with a tissue from the stand by her bed, then her eyes grew wide. "We didn´t win, did we, Harry?"

It almost seemed to Harry that she wanted him to tell her they didn´t win. "We won. I caught the Snitch. It was a close game."

"Malfoy couldn´t catch it if it flew up his nose, so of course you caught the Snitch." She tried to sound happy but Harry wasn´t convinced. "Good." Anger crossed her face and this time with more conviction she said: "Good! Serves Slytherin right, those cheating gits." She frowned. "I don´t remember everything that happened."

"You took a Bludger in the side. Broke two ribs and cracked another. Gave the lot of us a fright." Without thinking about what he was doing, he took her hand. At first it was more to comfort her, and it seemed the right thing to do at the moment, but he realized it felt rather nice holding her small hand in his, and she didn´t pull away from him.

"Did I fall?"

"Rather spectacularly. I managed to catch you, then we both landed on our asses. Well, at least I did, you fell on top of me." Ginny giggled at this. "Madam Hooch tried to slow you down, but her wand wasn´t working or something, maybe she couldn´t get a good shot. Strange, really."

"Oh," Ginny said, her amusement faded and her voice very quiet. He smile didn´t reach her eyes. "Well, you´re always there to rescue me, are you?"

A sudden vision of Ginny´s motionless body in the Chamber of Secrets crossed Harry´s mind; he never wanted to see anything like that again. Nothing was going to happen to Ginny Weasley ever if he could help it. He leaned down. "Count on it," he said softly, and he realized he meant it. She returned his gaze, her mouth slightly open.

For the first time, Harry found himself really looking at Ginny Weasley, really looking since her always saw her as that shy ten year old with a hero crush on him. She had just been Ginny for so long, red hair, a little scrawny, nothing other than his best friend´s little sister, and a little annoying at times. Now six years had past and she wasn´t so little. Her bright red hair, silky and luxurious, fanned out over the white pillow. She didn´t have all the freckles that Ron did, her skin smooth and it looked soft. Was it? He wanted to find out. He raised a hand to touch her cheek.

Harry shook his head, blinked and withdrew his hand and wondered at the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. What had he been doing? Mooning over Ginny Weasley? "I´ve been wondering," he said, forcing a mild tone into his voice, "what Ahab and Malfoy said to you right after Madam Hooch called a time out?"

"I...." She blinked, then with that stubborn set to her mouth she shook her head. "Uh, nothing really, just the usual Slytherin stuff. Teasing me and all that."

Harry wasn´t entirely convinced. "It didn´t look that way to me."

Her mouth took on a more mutinous set and she pulled her hand out of his and clenched it to a fist on the blankets. "It was just Malfoy´s usual bullying."

Harry sighed. He could tell she was hiding something. Maybe a little Veritaserum in her drink.... "I don´t think that Bludger hit was an accident," he said.

Her mouth opened and closed several times then she pressed her lips together. "Well you don´t know everything."

Harry wondered what he could do to get her to trust him with the truth. At that moment, he realized then that he was sitting on his Quidditch cloak and it was uncomfortable--pulling down at his shoulders. He sat up a moment and moved it out of his way. Ginny scrunched up her nose and clapped a hand over her nose and mouth.

"Oh! Harry," Ginny mumbled through her hand.

Maybe after all she was going to tell him something that could prove the Bludger hit wasn´t an accident. He waited expectantly and leaned closer to her. "What?"

She scrunched up her nose. "You smell awful."

Surprised at her answer, he then smiled and chuckled.

"Uh-umm!" Someone cleared her voice.

Ginny´s and Harry´s heads swiveled toward the door where Madam Pomfrey had just appeared. She seemed mildly interested in the little scene taking place in her hospital wing.

Flushing, Harry stood up away from the bed realizing suddenly how he must look perched on her bed and leaning over her protectively. But really, wasn´t that exactly what he was doing? He straightened his Quidditch robes, and Ginny, her face as red as her hair, pulled the covers up around her chin.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over and peered down at Ginny. "Well good then, you´re awake. I´d like to give you a light sleeping draught and keep you for the rest of the evening. And you, Mr. Potter, must leave now, you can fuss over Ginny later."

"I... I wasn´t fussing," he said, but Madam Pomfrey wasn´t listening.

"Dinner will be served soon. I´m certain you´re hungry after that Quidditch match."

"Uh, yeah. See you later, Ginny," Harry said, feeling oddly reluctantly to leave her side. It wasn´t like anyone was going to attack her again.

"Bye," Ginny mouthed silently. He felt her gaze on him all the way to the door.

At the door, Harry looked back. Ginny´s attention was now focused on Madam Pomfrey. Seeing her on the hospital bed once again churned up a wave of anger. The leather Quidditch gauntlets on his hands squeaked as he tightened his fists. Anger flashing in his eyes, he decided then that dinner sounded like a great idea, but it wasn´t the food that interested him. He strode down the hall pounding one fist into the palm of the other hand, his Quidditch robes streaming out behind him, his boot steps hard against the stone flagging floors.

* * * * *

The only light in the hospital wing was that near Ginny Weasley´s bed, the remainder of the room falling into darkness as the sun set. She dutifully drank down the sleeping draught as Madam Pomfrey directed, not that she had a choice. It didn´t taste very good (what healing potion did?) but the comforting warmth spread through her, soothed the pain and made her feel warm and comfy.

"Very good, dear. Now you sleep and you´ll be better in the morning." Madam Pomfrey patted her arm and left.

The last image that floated across Ginny´s mind before a deep sleep consumed her was Harry Potter sitting next to her, his warm hands on hers, his face close, concern in his extraordinary green eyes. Concern for her: Ginny Weasley. That juvenile crush she´d had for Harry since their first meeting had finally waned only to be consumed by something more intense, deeper, harder to define. More real than a mere adolescent crush. She kept those feelings close to her heart; never let them go, never let them out. She couldn´t bear to have those feelings ridiculed or cast to the side. Never had she dared to hope that Harry Potter would see her as anything more than his best friend´s little sister. But now...

"Maybe there is hope," she whispered to the silent room.