I Know Places (Taylor Swift Imagines) (GxG)

Brave for Everyone; Except You

Harry Potter AU because yes

Your eyes widen with fear as you see Taylor literally take a Bludger to the arm. She glances over at you, that sparkle in her eyes assuring you she's fine. But then she's hit again, this time square in the face, and you nearly jump down from the stands to run to her.

Madam Hooch's whistle rings out, and the Slytherin team grumble as they fly down, while the Ravenclaws rush to support your girlfriend on her very quick descent to the ground forty feet below.

When you finally reach the pitch, Taylor is unconscious on the grass, blood trickling out of her busted nose, and panic grips your chest.

You fall to your knees beside her, but before you can even take her hand, she groans and stirs.

"Tay?" you breathe, her eyelids fluttering open. She tries to sit up, wincing as her hand goes to her nose, now bent at an awkward angle, but her stubborn determination kicks in, and before you can even offer a hand, Taylor's already pushing herself upright.

"I'm fine," she mutters, waving off her teammates as they hover around her.

"You're not fine!" you protest, watching as she stands on shaky legs. Her left arm hangs limply at her side, clearly dislocated, and there's a bruise swelling across her jaw. "Let me--"

She cuts you off with a sharp shake of her head, taking a deep, pained breath. "I don't need help."

Your heart clenches as she takes a step forward, her limp unmistakable now. She stumbles but catches herself before anyone can intervene, and you watch in agonising silence as she makes her way toward the castle, her steps uneven but determined.

"Taylor, stop--just stop for a second!" You rush to catch up, desperate to at least walk with her, but she jerks away when you reach for her.

"Don't, okay? I can do it." Her voice is low and strained, laced with the pain she's clearly trying to ignore.

The two of you reach the front entrance, where Madam Pomfrey is already waiting, but Taylor immediately steps back, refusing to let her touch her. "I'm not letting anyone heal me," she insists, her voice hoarse as she glares at you, daring you to challenge her.

You share a helpless look with the matron, who just sighs in exasperation before disappearing into her office, leaving you alone with Taylor.

"Tay, please," you say softly, taking a step closer. She's standing there, blood still dripping from her nose, her arm hanging uselessly, and she looks so tired. "You need to let her help you. You can't do this."

Taylor's eyes meet yours, and it seems, for a moment, she might protest. But then she steps closer and buries her face in your shoulder, shaking with silent sobs.

You wrap your arms around her and hold her close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance in her ear.

"It hurts," she whispers into your skin as you rub her back.

"Shh, I know, sweet girl," you say, pressing a kiss to her sweaty forehead and brushing her fringe away from her face. "You need to let Madam Pomfrey heal you, come on, baby."

Taylor pulls back slightly, her tear-streaked face looking up at you with a mix of stubborn pride and vulnerability. "I hate feeling weak," she admits, her voice barely audible.

"I know," you whisper, cupping her cheek gently, careful not to touch the bruise forming along her jaw. "But you're not weak for letting someone help you. You're the strongest person I know, but even the strongest need a break sometimes."

She closes her eyes, leaning into your touch, her breath hitching. You can tell she's fighting an internal battle, torn between her fierce independence and the pain that's clearly overwhelming her.

"Let me be strong for you this time," you say, your voice soft yet firm. "You don't have to do this alone."

After what feels like an eternity, Taylor finally nods, her body sagging against yours in defeat. You guide her gently toward the hospital wing, her weight leaning on you as she limps alongside.

Madam Pomfrey reappears, her eyes softening as she sees the change in Taylor's demeanor. She doesn’t say anything, just leads you both into the hospital wing and gestures toward a bed.

You help Taylor sit down, her face pale and drawn, and you stand close by as Madam Pomfrey works her healing magic. Taylor winces as her arm is set back into place and her nose is mended, but she doesn't pull away this time, her hand gripping yours tightly.

When it's all over, Taylor leans back against the pillows, exhaustion finally catching up with her. You sit on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face as she closes her eyes.

"I'm proud of you," you whisper, and even though she doesn't respond, you can see the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips.