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Ron grinned to himself as he heard Luna's dreamy voice, loud and clear even from the Quidditch pitch.
"And the Hufflepuff chaser scores. Gryffindor captain Harry Potter looks ready to murder keeper McLaggen. Maybe he has been infected by Budhinibalads. They are very common this time of the year, you know…"
Ron knew he shouldn't be happy that Gryffindor was trailing pitifully behind Hufflepuff, but he couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction as he realized that McLaggen had blown up everything. The lousy git.
"Harry Potter seems to be having an altercation with his Keeper… The Keeper is holding a Beater’s bat– oh no, he hit Harry!"
Ron sat up straight, breaking up in a cold sweat as he heard loud screams from the stands. Was Harry alright?
For a painful five minutes, Ron tried to get up from his bed in the Hospital Wing to try and find out if Harry was alright before he heard Hooch's magically amplified voice from the pitch. "Potter has been taken to the Hospital Wing. The game will resume in five minutes with Weasley acting as Seeker."
Just then, the Hospital Wing door opened and Madam Pomfrey appeared, levitating Harry on a stretcher. His head was completely covered in blood. It was a sickening sight.
"Is Harry OK?" Ron asked Madam Pomfrey anxiously.
"Cracked skull. Why Dumbledore insists on this barbaric game is beyond me! Bludgers and bats and such! I say–"
Ron interrupted her impatiently. "Will he be alright?"
"He will need to stay in bed for at least three days," she huffed, settling Harry into the bed beside Ron's. "He'll probably wake up in a few hours." She bandaged his head and shoved a smelly green potion down his throat before turning to Ron.
"Mr. Weasley. Did you take your afternoon dose of the replenishing potion?"
"Er…"
"Do I have to remind you all the time, Mr. Weasley?" She asked, handing him the slightly smoking vial of his potion before leaving for her office.
Harry's eyes were firmly closed. He looked really strange without his glasses, almost vulnerable.
After confirming that Harry looked alright except for the large turban of bandages, he settled back into his pillows and listened to the commentary that had now resumed.
The game was over in a matter of minutes, the Hufflepuff Seeker having caught the Snitch easily. Ron could hear the deafening roars of the Hufflepuffs.
Almost as soon as the match ended, the infirmary door opened and Ginny marched in. She was still in her Quidditch uniform and looked like she had climbed up the castle in a hurry.
"Is Harry alright?" She demanded breathlessly as she stalked to Harry's bed in a few, long strides.
"Yeah," said Ron. "Cracked skull. Pomfrey said he'll wake up in a few hours, but he'll have to stay here a few days."
Ginny had sunk into the chair between his and Harry's bed and was intently staring at Harry's face. "Thank god. It looked really horrible when he was hit. There was this awful sound…," she trailed off, looking on the verge of tears.
"McLaggen messed up, didn't he?"
Ginny flushed in anger. "Don't even take his name. I'm going to hex him to oblivion as soon as I go back. That bloody–," she trailed off yet again.
"Yeah, Harry seemed really angry at him from what I could hear of Luna’s commentary– speaking of which, she should be appointed permanently, she's hilarious."
"Harry was in a state even before the match started," said Ginny, still staring at Harry, an odd, soft look on her face. "He arrived really late, he told me it was because he saw Malfoy or something. I was really mad at him then."
"Yeah," said Ron, but he was under the impression that Ginny wasn't really listening to him. Her hand, as if moving on its own accord, reached out to touch Harry's hair in a way that made Ron feel like he was trespassing on something.
"You're in love with him," he blurted without thinking. It was a statement, not a question. Of course he knew about that little crush she'd had on his best mate, but he had believed she had grown out of it– at least that was what Hermione had told him. He had never imagined that the crush had turned into something deeper. And yet, it was as obvious as the freckles om Ron's face that she cared for him very, very deeply.
Ginny gave a start, as if she was caught doing something wrong, and turned to Ron blankly. "What?"
"You love Harry."
"No I don't!" She said loudly. "Don't be silly!"
"I'm not being silly," said Ron, feeling oddly calm about it all. "It's obvious. Maybe you haven't accepted it yet, but you love him."
Ginny looked at him as if she thought he was off his rocker. "I am not in love with him," she said, enunciating each syllable slowly, as if explaining something very simple to someone very obtuse. "I used to have a crush on him– which is not the same as love, by the way – years ago. I've grown out of it now.
"Besides," she said, sounding flustered now. "I'm with Dean. You are acting stupid."
"Whatever you say," replied Ron. "Just remember, denial is not just a river in Egypt!"
"Ron!" Ginny snapped. "For the last time–"
"Yeah, yeah, you don't love him, alright."
Ginny chose to ignore him.
"You know," said Ron after a while. "I would approve, I mean, if you ever get together. You kind of suit each other."
"Please, Ron," said Ginny with uncharacteristic weakness. "Stop it."
"So you admit it?"
“No!” she said in a strangled voice. “Listen,” she began quietly. “I used to like him, okay? But I got over him because he did not need a silly girl with a crush hovering over him. I’m happy being friends with him and I’ve made peace with the fact that he won’t like me back. And I really like Dean. So shut up before I hex you.”
Ron had enough sense to stop before Ginny started using her wand, but still stood by what he'd thought. Ginny might not know it, but she loved Harry. And he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.