A/N: This is one of my less humorous one-shots; they do pop up occasionally. I wrote this a few months ago and only 'found' it today.

A Different End For A Hero

Harry Potter laughed weakly to himself. Even that, though, was too much for him in his current state, and he broke out in a coughing fit.

Of all the ways to go, he thought to himself – at the age of thirty-nine, with three lovely children and a still-beautiful wife.

Mind you, most of his children were grown up now. Young adults and teens, he thought fondly. He loved his children more than anything.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bed, compulsively closing and opening his hands around the hospital bed sheets. He had spent far too much time in hospitals in his earlier years to have to put up with it now.

He sighed and began absently mindedly drumming out a beat with his fingers, it was on the radio quite frequently; he couldn't recall the title. The door opened, and Harry sat up, hoping for his family. It was the nurse. Harry sunk back into the sheets.

"Hello Mr. Potter!" The annoyingly peppy young woman said. "And how are we feeling today?"

"How do you expect me to be feeling?" He scowled, reminiscently of his deceased former Potions Master. The woman's smile faltered slightly, before returning to its usual blindingly white state.

"I do so hope you're feeling better!" She beamed. He rolled his eyes, not in the mood for casual conversation. The healer obviously sensed this and did not attempt to restart the exchange. She put a tray of generic hospital food down next to him before reminding the man that if he needed anything, press the call button next to his bed, and a Healer would be happy to help. Harry nodded and waved her away: he'd heard it all before.

Harry examined the breakfast tray with some degree of interest. He pulled the swinging tray holder over his lap, and unwrapped the spoon and stuck it into – what seemed to be – a bowl of porridge. He took a spoonful up and allowed it to fall back into the bowl. It landed with a wet squelching sound, and just sat on top of the gelatinous substance. Harry made a face and pushed it away. Sure, he'd eaten worse, but he didn't intend to do so in what could be his last few weeks to live.

The doors opened again, and Harry prayed to the gods that it wasn't the nurse again. It wasn't.

A wide grin crossed his face.

"Ron!" He exclaimed, happy to see his friend.

"Hey Harry." He said, smiling down at his friend. "Having fun?" Ron poked Harry in the ribs slightly, motioning for him to move his feet. Harry complied, and Ron sat down at the foot of his bed. "How're you feeling?" Harry shrugged.

"The same."

"Is that good or bad?" Harry shrugged again.

"I hope its good." He said hesitantly. "I haven't heard otherwise. But these types of cases are so rare, apparently." Ron nodded, and patted his friend's leg. "Have…" he began, "Have you seen Ginny and the kids?" At Ron's confirmation, he continued. "How are they holding up?" Ron considered this for a moment.

"Not well, as you could assume. Ginny's… very upset. And the munchkins still seem to be processing it. Harry?" Ron asked, worriedly. "You are going to get better, right?"

"I dunno." Harry said honestly. "I've been told that something like this happening to a wizard is pretty bloody rare. Apparently you have some sort of vaccination?"

"Yeah." Ron said absent mindedly, tracing shapes into the heavily starched sheets. "We all got it when we were two or three, it's a fairly recent discovery. Most muggleborn students get it later in life – but you didn't know right?" Harry shook his head.

"No one ever told me." He said grimly. "Besides," he added, trying to add a little humor to the serious situation, "I was a little too busy with a Dark Lord nipping at my arse to consider it." Ron smiled emptily.

"This is silly." He said suddenly. "Of all the things that've happened to you over the years, all the possible ways you could have died, it's not bloody likely you're going down 'cause of cancer!" Harry shrugged.

"I certainly didn't know there was asbestos under the staircase. I assume the Dursleys didn't know either, because they had me sleep there for ten years."

"Bloody Durlseys…" Ron muttered, angrily, cracking his knuckles. Harry raised a hand to stop a furious tirade.

"It's not their fault- " He began.

"Not their fault, my ass!" Ron interrupted. "You slept under a bloody staircase!"

"It's not their fault, and I don't want anyone blaming them if I, if I… you know." He said vaguely. Ron knew exactly what he was talking about, though. His eyes narrowed.

"But, you might not, right?" He said hopefully. "Nothings definite?"

"Nothing's definite." Harry reassured him. "One in five chance." Ron's eyes widened slightly.

"One in five?" Harry nodded sadly; he looked down and focused on his lap.

"I wish I had better odds." He whispered, staring intently at a fingernail on his left hand. The two boys sat in silence for a moment. There was a sudden rustling, and Harry looked up. Ron engulfed the smaller man in a hug.

"You're still my best friend, mate." Ron said. "No matter what." Harry returned the hug.

"I know." Harry murmured. Ron pulled away, and immediately turned his head, subtly wiping tears away. Harry made no mention of his friend's open display of emotion, and leaned back into the pillows behind him.

He reached to his bedside, grasping for his glass of water when the coughing started. Long, dry coughs that wracked his entire body. Ron expected them to subside after a moment, but they continued. He got worried. Then, several alarms and beepers went off in the room.

Healers rushed into the room, surrounding his friend's bed. Ron was ushered off, and told to leave. He protested, saying he wanted to stay with Harry. One snapped, and shouted 'OUT!' at the boy.

Ron was very worried now. He paced some distance away from Harry's door, not wanting to get in the way of the Healers going constantly to and from Harry's door. It had been going on in this approach for some time now.

He had called Ginny, but she had yet to arrive. He told her to leave the kids at home – she agreed.

Ron was still pacing when his younger sister came up beside him. They were united in their worry, and he stopped put an arm around her shoulders. The pair stood together outside Harry Potter's door, waiting. Just waiting.

People say that patience is a virtue, Ron mused to himself. They've obviously never had to wait like this, before.

Finally, after what could have been millions of years, a Healer came out. Many Healers came out, all heading for different directions.

Ginny looked up hopefully. A man approached them.

A looked at them sadly.

He shook his head.

Ginny collapsed into Ron's arms. Ron was shell-shocked. Dead. How could this happen?

The pair sank to the floor, letting the throes of grief consume them.

Who could have expected this? Who?

A/N: One of my mom's old school friends got cancer and died due to asbestos exposure in their school, it got be to thinking where else asbestos could be.

I don't generally write anything that actually sticks to canon, but I opted to for this. It meant I didn't have to lay out or explain the background. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and I will answer to the best of my ability.

This is pretty inaccurate – when my grandparents had cancer, they didn't want any of us to be exposed to that. If you're reading this, I decided to post. I was considering not, because of the end (not very good. :P)