Work Text:
It was subtle, which was probably why Ginny hadn't noticed before.
Also the fact that they just didn't use cars that often.
But now that she had noticed the time the Ministry sent special cars for them for the memorial, it was impossible not to see: that when Harry entered a car, his shoulders stiffened and he had to take a long breath and steel himself for it.
Unsure if she should approach him directly about this, she went to one of the people who knew him best.
"Oh, yes," Hermione said. "He's weird about cars. I never asked why, though - I was too nervous to. You might have better luck."
Ginny smirked. "I have different methods."
"Ugh. I really don't need to know. Anyway, Ron and I figured that it's easier for him if he's distracted, so we try to do that when we have to use cars - which, thankfully, is pretty rare."
Ginny recalled how Ron had chosen the exact moment to sling his arm around Harry's shoulders and make a crude joke; how Hermione had decided the time was ripe to tell them all the statistics of coming across double-deckers on the road, and felt a surge of gratitude that Harry had them.
She didn't have people who would do that for her. Sure, she had plenty of friends, and good ones too, but those who would work around her sore spots without asking after a discussion of their own? Especially when like Harry you had a never-ending supply of them through no fault of your own? Rare.
Now there was no choice but to go to Harry himself. She wasn't scared of him—ever—but she did use an unusual amount of tact in the asking, even though unlike Ron she typically already had a measure of it.
Harry actually only seemed embarrassed. "Oh. You noticed?"
"I did," she said, leaving out the fact that his best friends had long since known.
"It's nothing," he hedged, and she realized he was actually insecure about this.
What the hell?
"Hey, it can't be more embarrassing than that time you cut yourself on one of Teddy's dolls," she teased to relax him.
It worked. "Those things are impossible to handle," he grumbled.
"So are you. You should get along great!"
He fixed her with an amused, fond look. "I think you handle me pretty well."
She pecked him on the cheek. "I don't handle you—that's stupid—but I'm still not going to let you get away with that deflection."
He sighed. "No, that would've actually been good luck." He continued without prompting other than a squeeze of his hand: "It's stupid, but when I was a kid, the Dursleys told me my parents had died in a car crash."
Realization crashed over her. Sickened, she gasped. "Oh."
He seemed to take it for mocking. "I know, I know, the way they actually died is way worse and scarier. But in my defense, I have nightmares about that too."
So he had dreams about his parents in a fictional car accident. Her heart clenched.
"I wasn't going to say that at all," she said instead of doing what she actually wanted to do and cry and throw her arms around him. "Don't put words in my mouth, Potter."
She let herself do the latter now. "It makes sense. Absolutely."
Ginny thought about little Harry, knowing nothing about his parents except for this, living where cars would have been more common too—
Wait.
"The Dursleys used to take you in cars, right?" She asked, outraged.
"They didn't know, Gin," he caught on to her thought-process immediately.
"Would they have cared if they had?"
His silence was all the answer she needed. She hugged him even tighter.
"Kind of need to breathe?"
Ginny released him, but didn't step back. "I love you. Ron and Hermione love you. My whole family loves you. Hell, the entire wizarding world does too. You know that, right?"
Now he looked less insecure, just embarrassed. He dipped his head in a nod. "Yeah. But it really isn't that bad - it's just kind of hard getting in and when there's abrupt stops and stuff. I'm fine with cars, really."
He even managed to sound convincing.
"I don't care. We're never going anywhere by car again."
"Whatever you say, dear."
"Don't you dear me, Harry James Potter—"