In Sickness and in Health

The morning had started out quiet, almost too quiet. Harry had woken up earlier than usual, the sunlight creeping through the curtains and casting a warm glow over the bedroom. He had made Ginny some tea and tried to coax her into eating some toast, but she had been too tired. Too weak. After what had happened before, he couldn’t blame her.

Ginny had seemed better. She was up, walking around a bit, and even managed a smile when Harry kissed her goodbye before he went to work. But when he returned that evening, he found her again curled up on the couch, her face pale and drawn.

“Ginny?” Harry asked softly, setting down his bag and moving toward her.

Her eyes fluttered open, but they were glazed over. “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I thought it was gone... but it’s back.”

Harry’s heart sank. He could see it in her eyes—the same despair, the same exhaustion that had marked the previous days. He kneeled beside her, reaching for her hand.

“Hey,” he said gently, brushing her damp hair from her forehead. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this. I’ll take care of you.”

Ginny managed a small, strained smile. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” Harry replied instantly. “You’ll never be a burden. I’m here for you.”

But as soon as the words left his mouth, Ginny’s stomach gave an ominous gurgle. She looked at him, eyes wide with dread, before she bolted for the bathroom.

“Ginny!” Harry cried, following her quickly.

She didn’t even have time to reach the toilet. She collapsed to her knees just in front of it, her body convulsing with the force of the vomiting. Her stomach churned violently, and the retching sounds echoed through the small bathroom, each one deeper and more guttural than the last. Harry crouched beside her, holding her hair back, his heart racing in his chest as he watched her suffer.

Ginny’s face twisted in pain as the last of her stomach contents were expelled. She slumped forward, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her hand shook as she wiped her mouth, but it didn’t stop the tears that began to fall. She felt like she was losing control of her own body, and it was the most frustrating feeling in the world.

“I can’t...” she gasped, struggling to breathe.

“You’re okay,” Harry murmured softly, rubbing her back in slow circles. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”

But the words felt hollow, knowing how bad it had gotten. Ginny’s face was drained of color, her body trembling from the effort. He helped her back to the bed, trying to get her to lie down, but it was clear she wasn’t able to relax. The cramps in her abdomen were too much for her to bear.

It wasn’t long before the nausea returned in waves, and this time, it was worse. So much worse. Ginny barely had time to react before her body was convulsing again. She was vomiting repeatedly, her stomach rejecting everything, even water. The noise was horrifying, and Harry could see her struggling to stay conscious, the sweat dripping down her face, her skin clammy to the touch.

“Please... make it stop...” Ginny whimpered between retches, the weakness in her voice tearing at Harry’s heart.

He didn’t know how much more she could take. He was frantic now, unsure of what to do next. Ginny wasn’t just sick anymore—she was withering away in front of him. The once vibrant woman he loved was reduced to a shell of herself, and it left him feeling helpless.

“Harry, please...” she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

Without thinking, Harry grabbed his wand from the bedside table and cast a quick diagnostic charm. The results were just as he feared: severe dehydration, a dangerously high fever, and her stomach lining severely irritated.

He didn’t even think twice about it—he quickly ran to the Floo and called for Hermione.

--

Hermione arrived within minutes, her eyes immediately scanning Ginny’s weakened form as Harry stepped aside to let her in.

“Oh my god, Ginny,” Hermione said softly, crouching beside the bed and taking Ginny’s hand in hers. “What happened? You were doing better.”

Ginny could only offer a weak, defeated shrug, too exhausted to even speak. Her body was still trembling, her stomach a constant source of pain. Harry stood beside Hermione, watching her work as she pulled out several potions from her bag, each one designed to calm the stomach, ease the cramps, and rehydrate.

Hermione muttered a few words under her breath as she applied a cooling charm to Ginny’s forehead and gave her a small sip of one of the potions.

But the moment the potion touched her lips, Ginny immediately retched again, her body heaving as the contents of her stomach surged up once more. The sickening sounds filled the room, and Ginny could do nothing to stop them. She was too weak, too fragile, and her body was betraying her in the worst way possible.

“Please...” Ginny cried again, her voice barely more than a broken whisper. “Just make it stop.”

Harry’s heart shattered at the sight. He moved to hold her again, his hands trembling as he tried to comfort her, to soothe her through the pain. But nothing was working. She was getting worse, not better.

“I’m sorry,” Ginny whispered to him, her eyes glazed with fever. “I don’t know what to do... I just...”

Harry wiped away the tears from her face, kissing her forehead gently. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m right here.”

--

The night passed in a haze of pain, the storm of Ginny’s illness not letting up. Hermione stayed with them, trying every potion and remedy she could think of, but it wasn’t enough. Ginny’s stomach continued to reject everything. The diarrhea came next, forcing Ginny out of bed to the bathroom, where she barely had time to sit before she was emptied of everything she had left in her body.

Harry was there with her, always, holding her hair back, wiping her face, whispering soft words of comfort, but nothing could make it better. He felt like he was failing her, like no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough to stop her suffering.

When the dawn finally broke, Ginny was lying on the bed, her body broken and exhausted. Her skin was still clammy with sweat, but the vomiting and diarrhea had finally slowed. She was pale, her eyes sunken from exhaustion, but the worst had passed. Harry could see it in the way she was breathing, shallow but steady. It was over, for now.

“You’re going to be okay,” Harry whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his voice hoarse from worry.

Ginny gave him a weak, exhausted smile, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know.”

Harry leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. The worst was behind them, but he knew it would take time for Ginny to fully recover.

In sickness, and in health.

--

End.