Characters: Harry, Ginny
Word Count: 474
Summary: Harry's and Ginny's different childhoods
Author's Note: un-betated.
Harry entered the white room with fear. The weight of Uncle Vernon's hand on his shoulder was not comforting, but threatening. The touch gives him a message: no funny business, don't touch anything, don't speak.
Harry squinted to look at the man behind the desk. He was wearing a white lab coat and small lenses. His eyes were stern and disinterested. Harry felt intimidated.
Harry had never liked doctors. They stuck needles in your arm and make you swallow bad medicine.
When he was sick, Harry wished to take care of himself with a spell or a potion. Quick and painless. But these things didn't exist. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always said so.
"So", said the doctor, bored, "is he the patient?" he asked, looking at Harry.
"Yes, he is", said Uncle Vernon.
"How long you have vision problems?" asked the doctor, turning to Harry.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Uncle Vernon tightened his grip on his shoulder.
"We realized this week". Answered his uncle, who had decided to take his nephew to an eye examination after the fifth letter from the teacher where she said that Harry could not see an inch from his hand.
An hour later, after Dudley had played his favorite game, Catch Harry, he found himself in the cupboard under the stairs trying to repair his not more so new glasses.
Ginny was the world's most unhappy little girl!
She was seriously ill, she was cold even under three blankets and lots of small scabs was covering her body.
She was doomed to spend her whole life in bed, while her brothers were flying on brooms (Ginny could hear their excited screams through the closed window) and she would never meet Harry Potter.
Oh, she was so unlucky!
The door opened suddenly and her mother came in, a pile of bed linen floating in her wake.
Ginny began to cry, to show her oh how sick she was.
"Oh, stop complaining. You just got dragon pox. And if you're a good girl and take your potion, within a couple of days it will go away".
"I don't want to take the potion. It taste of boiled cabbage. I don't like boiled cabbage. I will be sick forever", sobbed Ginny.
Her mother sighed and instead of getting angry, as Ginny was expecting, calmly sat on her bed.
"All right. Don't take it. You just have to give up playing professional Quidditch, marry Harry Potter and have three children with him, as you dream. Oh, I always hoped to see my children achieve their dreams".
Ginny looked up from under the pillow and considered her mother's words.
With great courage, she said, "Okay, Mom. I take the potion."
Two nights later, Ginny, vibrant and lively, slipped into the garden to learn how to fly on her brothers' brooms.