Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/N: Ok, this chapter is going to be a bit depressing. Some one asked me if Harry and Hermione slept together. No they did not. Sorry if that disappointed some of you but they simply stayed up all night in the tower. Anyway, thanks for all the great reviews. 100 already! This is awesome. Thanks so much!
A Year to Remember
@}-`--,-- Chapter 7 --,--`-{@
It was early March and spring was just around the corner. Harry and Hermione became inseparable. Harry never left her side, just as he had promised her. Hermione seemed very content and for the first time in a while, very happy. Some days, though, Harry could tell she was a little out of it, but he didn't mind. Just seeing her big brown eyes made his stomach jump. He was in love. He had never been in love before, and it was by far the greatest feeling in the world.
Harry held Hermione's hand as they walked around the lake one Saturday night. Hermione had been awfully quiet and
seemed very distant. Harry didn't worry too much. He had some problems of his own he needed to talk about.
"I just don't get it," Harry sighed, "everyone has accepted us, except the few people I considered my friends for the past seven years."
Hermione nodded solemnly, staring at the ground as they walked slowly.
"I mean, I could understand if they're shocked or surprised, hell, I was too," Harry went on, "but we were all so close. At least that's what I thought. Now it's just, what if they never really were my friends at all, you know? What if they just acted like it 'cause I was 'Harry Potter?'"
Hermione didn't answer this time. Harry stopped and looked at her strangely.
"Are you feeling alright babe?" he asked her sweetly, lifting her chin to look at her. She kept her eyes low. "What's wrong Hermione?"
"Harry," Hermione whispered, closing her eyes, "I'm sick."
"We'll go back then."
"No," Hermione raised her voice slightly and took her hand away from his. "I'm sick Harry."
Harry looked at her blankly, not at all understanding what she was saying.
"Harry, do you remember that night in the tower?" Hermione asked him, looking him directly in the eye. "When I told you about my mother's death?"
Harry nodded.
"And you know how I was diagnosed with depression?"
Harry nodded again, still not contemplating what she was saying.
"Well," Hermione whispered, her eyes beginning to well up with water, "I wasn't depressed. I lied to you."
"What are you getting at?" Harry asked, a little frustrated at his own confusion.
"I have leukemia," Hermione said quietly, looking Harry pitifully in the eyes, tears coming out of her own. "I found out that Christmas and my body stopped responding to treatments last summer."
Harry stared at her blankly, trying to take in all she had just said. He watched her face contort into sorrow and misery. He shook his head.
"No, no, you don't," Harry exclaimed, "you're 17, you have your whole life ahead of you."
"Harry please don't be upset," Hermione begged him.
"Upset?" Harry shouted. "Why would I be upset? The most wonderful person in my life just told me she's dying, but no, I'm not upset!"
Hermione looked up at him sadly and Harry glared at her. His face than turned into a desperate frown.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want anyone to act weird around me," Hermione muttered.
"Even me?"
"Especially you!" Hermione sobbed. "I was getting along with everything fine. I accepted it. And then," she looked up at Harry helplessly and whispered, "you happened."
Harry didn't know what to think or what to say or how to feel. Hermione was dying. His Hermione was dying. Sweet, pure and innocent Hermione was. . .
"I'm, I'm sorry," Hermione muttered, and then she ran off, back to the castle, leaving Harry all alone. He watched her go and before he could help himself, he collapsed to the ground in his own bitter tears.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"What's wrong Harry?"
"Professor," Harry said, desperately out of breath. "Hermione, she's got cancer. You have to do something."
"I'm afraid I can't Harry," the old, white-haired man said sadly.
"But you're the greatest wizard in all of history," Harry said exasperatedly, "you have to help her."
"Harry," Dumbledore sighed, "there are some things that no magic can cure. Leukemia is not just a muggle disease. It has ended the lives of many wizards for centuries."
"But you have to do something," Harry pleaded, almost on the verge of tears again, "anything."
"Even if I could, I wouldn't," Dumbledore stated, "I talked this over with Hermione countless times. All I could do is give her a little more time, but she's ready."
"No," Harry muttered in disbelief, "how can she be?"
"Harry, I know you're upset but,"
"No, no you can't," Harry growled at his most beloved professor, "you just don't."
With that Harry ran down the staircase, out of Dumbledore's office, unable to take it anymore. Dumbledore watched him with sad, gray eyes, knowing exactly how Harry felt. For little did anyone know, the love of his own life died of the same cancer over a hundred years before.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Back again?"
"Is Hermione in there?"
A week had gone by and Harry hadn't seen Hermione at all. She wasn't in the library or the hospital wing or even any classes. He'd been bringing her flowers and candy and notes everyday, hoping she would come and talk to him. Lavender was now standing in front of the seventh year girls' dormitories with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
"Even if she is," Lavender said crossly, "she surprisingly doesn't want to see you. What did you do to her anyway? Break her heart? Well, I'm not surprised."
"Lav," Harry said with an exhausted expression on his pale face, "just give her these," he handed the blonde a bouquet of white roses with pink tips, "and tell her, I'm not going anywhere."
Lavender rolled her eyes and nodded. Harry left without further ado.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Another week had passed and still Harry had not seen or heard from Hermione. He was sitting out by the lake, polishing the glorious broom he had not ridden in so long. He sighed and looked out across the water. It was so peaceful, so content. He then thought about a chaotic rainstorm. He used to be like that rainstorm, angry for no particular reason and completely out of place. He then thought about Hermione. She had changed him so much. When he was with her, he was like the lake, calm and peaceful. Now, he felt like the rainstorm again, completely lost.
"I've been looking for you," a voice interrupted his thoughts.
Harry turned and found himself face to face with Hermione.
"Hi," Harry whispered, standing up. The two were silent for a few moments. He scanned her appearance. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, which she held awfully tight around her for being such a warm day.
"I've been meaning to talk to you," Hermione said sincerely.
"You've got a funny way of showing it," Harry said coldly, thinking back on the two miserable weeks he spent being avoided by her.
"Maybe I was scared," Hermione said defiantly.
"Of what?"
"A lot of things," she mumbled, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry."
Harry watched her. She looked so cold, alone, and truly frightened.
"Don't be," Harry answered sweetly, "I overreacted."
"No you didn't," Hermione replied, "I should have been honest with you."
"You were worried," Harry said calmly, taking her hand, "and you warned me remember? You made me promise not to fall in love with you. I could have spared us all."
"No," Hermione muttered, a sad smile on her lips, "I'm glad you did."
"Are you, scared?" Harry asked uncomfortably.
"To death."
Harry's face contorted and he started to get upset again.
"Hey, lighten up," Hermione nudged his shoulder.
"It's not funny."
"Look," Hermione said, for the first time lifting Harry's chin so he would look at her, instead of the other way around, "the only thing that I'm scared of is not being with you."
"Oh baby," Harry said sweetly, wrapping his arms around her small waist, "that will never happen." He hugged her tightly and she began to weep on his shoulder. He held her as tight as he could, not wanting to loose her. He couldn't loose her. Later that night he did something he had never done in his life. He began to pray for a miracle.