Chapter 1
Ginny Weasley had always been strong. Independent. Capable. But as she sat on the edge of the couch, clutching her stomach, she couldn’t shake the growing discomfort that had started to gnaw at her all day. It wasn’t unusual for her to feel a little under the weather after a long day of work at the Ministry, but this... this was something different.
Harry looked up from his book, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's wrong?"
“Harry, I’m fine,” she insisted, though her voice was strained, her hand rubbing her belly in a slow, rhythmic motion as if trying to quell the ache.
He hadn’t missed how pale she’d looked when she’d come home, or how she’d been moving more slowly than usual. “You sure? You don’t look fine.”
Ginny gave him a tired smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think it’s just some bad food. I’ll be okay.”
Harry didn’t look convinced, but he nodded, setting his book down on the table and getting up to fetch her some water. Ginny was the type to push through discomfort—something Harry had come to admire and, at times, worry about.
By the time he returned with the water, Ginny had retreated to the bathroom. He heard the faint sound of retching and his stomach clenched with concern. His heart beat faster, and he quickly walked to the door.
“Ginny?” he called softly, not wanting to intrude but needing to make sure she was alright.
She didn’t answer, but he could hear the sound of her struggling to breathe between bouts of vomiting. His chest tightened as he pushed open the door, finding her kneeling beside the toilet, her hair disheveled, her face pale and drenched in sweat.
“Oh, Gin,” he whispered, his voice full of worry.
She turned her head, looking up at him with tired eyes, offering a faint, apologetic smile. “I’m okay, really.”
But Harry wasn’t so sure. He knelt beside her, rubbing her back gently. He could feel the tension in her muscles, the way she trembled with every wave of nausea that wracked her body. She was always so strong, but this... this was different.
He stayed with her until the sickness passed, his hand never leaving her back. When she finally sat back against the wall, looking utterly exhausted, Harry helped her to her feet and guided her back to the bedroom.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Ginny murmured, her voice weak. “It’s just... my stomach. It won’t stop hurting.”
Harry sat beside her on the bed, holding her hand. “We’ll figure it out. Let me get you something. Just rest, okay?”
She nodded weakly, leaning her head against his shoulder as he got up to find something to help her settle.
--
The hours that followed were a blur of pain and tenderness. Ginny’s condition only worsened. Her stomach cramps became more intense, and she was constantly running to the bathroom, her body rejecting everything she tried to eat or drink. The vomiting was relentless, and every time Harry heard her retch, his heart would break a little more.
He had tried everything—ginger tea, a mild potion from his own collection of wizarding remedies, even just comforting words—but nothing helped. Ginny’s body just couldn’t seem to hold anything down.
Harry hadn’t expected the severity of it. He watched helplessly as Ginny lay in bed, drenched in sweat, her face pale and gaunt, her breath shallow. Her hand clutched her stomach as if holding it in place might help stop the pain, but nothing worked. She was shaking, and it wasn’t just from the cold.
“Harry,” she whispered weakly, her voice hoarse. “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to make this so hard.”
Harry’s heart clenched. “No, Ginny, don’t apologize. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
But Ginny wasn’t listening. Her eyes were half-lidded, and her breathing grew more erratic, her body trembling under the weight of the illness.
“Harry... I can’t... I can’t take it anymore.”
The sound of her voice, strained and broken, cut through him like a knife. He felt utterly helpless. He had no idea how to make her feel better. The helplessness gnawed at him as he watched her suffer, and it was the first time in their relationship he felt truly out of control.
It wasn’t long before he knew he couldn’t do it alone. With a heavy heart, he reached for the Floo powder, calling on Ron and Hermione to help.
--
When Ron and Hermione arrived, they found Harry in the living room, pacing anxiously, his worry etched into every line of his face. Ron was immediately concerned, his eyes flicking from Harry to the door of the bedroom.
“What’s going on? Is she—?”
“She’s not getting better,” Harry interrupted, his voice strained. “I need you to help. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Hermione, ever the practical one, gave him a quick, reassuring look. “It’s okay, Harry. Let’s go in.”
She led the way into the bedroom, where Ginny was curled up under the blankets, looking small and fragile. Ron’s face fell at the sight of her, and he quickly crossed the room to sit beside her.
“Blimey, Gin, you look awful,” he said gently, trying to lighten the mood, but his concern was clear.
Ginny gave a weak chuckle, but it quickly turned into a cough as another wave of nausea hit her. She barely had time to cover her mouth before she was rushing to the bathroom again.
Harry followed her in, holding her hair back as she knelt by the toilet, her body retching violently. His chest tightened again, but he didn’t leave her side. As she finished, he helped her back to bed.
“You’re not alone,” Harry whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m here.”
Hermione stepped forward with a vial of potion in her hand. “This will help calm your stomach, Ginny. It should ease the nausea.”
Ginny nodded weakly, her face pale, but the moment Hermione handed her the potion, Ginny took it without protest. The warmth of it spread through her, but it wasn’t long before she was back in the bathroom, throwing up again.
Harry sat beside her, wiping her forehead with a cool cloth. She barely had the energy to push him away when he tried to help her stand, but his voice was calm and soothing.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, holding her as she leaned on him.
--
The day dragged on, and Ginny’s condition only began to show signs of improvement late in the evening. She was still weak, still unable to keep much down, but the vomiting had lessened. The diarrhea had followed shortly after, leaving Ginny embarrassed but too exhausted to care.
Harry stayed close, never leaving her side. He held her hand, wiped her face with a damp cloth, and made sure she had everything she needed. He sat with her in silence, letting her rest against him, both of them finding comfort in the quiet moments amidst the chaos.
Finally, when Ginny could keep a few bites of toast down, Harry allowed himself to breathe a little easier. He hadn’t left her side since the illness started, and he wasn’t going to, not even for a second.
“I love you, Gin,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Ginny turned her face to his, her eyes soft with gratitude and affection despite the exhaustion that still weighed heavily on her.
“I know,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”
They stayed there in the quiet, their hearts full, knowing that even in sickness, their love was a bond that couldn’t be broken.
--
End.