A/N: I realize that I gave away an early part of the story in the description, but it's not a big spoiler or anything. The story is going to start off leading up to the surgery in the first few chapters and then take off from there. This story starts off very AU and, truthfully, will probably continue on for the rest of the story in many ways. You may not like what I'm going to do with these characters, you may be very angry and flame me and call me an awful crack author. BUT, I don't write for you. My inspiration does not come from you, these fics are not written to please you or even for your own entertainment. I write them to express my ideas and creativity and in the end, these are almost always written for me. I want to see what I can do and very few opinions will matter other than my own when it comes to that. If you do wind up enjoying this, then I am glad I could bring some entertainment, but its intention was never meant solely for that. I want to improve as an author, but it's really been a long time since I wrote something seriously that I wanted to follow through with. So if you could kindly leave a critique in a review, I'd really appreciate it. I want to know what to work on. I write very short chapters. If I try to write longer ones, my inspiration literally dies. I'm going at my own pace. So, here it goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Jo Rowling's characters that appear in this story. And I never will. I wish I did. But I don't. Sad truth is sad.

The food trays usually came around noon, loaded up with the bland and mostly gelatinous dishes the hospital prepared in advance for their regular patients. Harry James Potter, on the other hand, was not a regular patient. When the Candy Striper came stumbling through the door, loaded tray balancing precariously on one arm as the other held the door wide for the exiting nurse, the sixteen year old licked his lips in eagerness. Food. Real food. He hadn't been privy to delights of such in such a long time.

Smiling gratefully when the young girl placed the tray on the collapsible table positioned next to his bed, Harry sat up, mindful of the PICC line still positioned in his arm, and thanked the girl.

"No problem." She said, grinning and then exiting the room.

Harry removed the lid and instantly his stomach rumbled in anticipation. Mashed potatoes! The teenaged boy could have cried. He honestly couldn't remember the last time solid food was served to him and he would waste no time in digging in. The great thing about mashed potatoes was that they were easy on the throat. No real chew, easy to swallow, and if ordered so, without any harsh flavor to burn his fried taste buds. Even though there was no taste, just the knowledge that he wasn't being force fed through that damned tube was enough to devour the small portion. Sitting back against the pillows, he sighed, content with things for the time being.

Saturdays at the hospital were very slow. There weren't as many people coming in and out of the doors for appointments, unlike the weekdays when the lobby was constantly packed and the doctors all booked up. Being on the third floor, he still had to share his room with another patient, but luckily it was with an older bloke who was usually sleeping or being escorted to whatever scans and treatments they scheduled him for. Every now and again a visitor would pop up and then Harry would need to deal with the chatter and laughter that came with family visits, along with heavy sighs and moody scowls, coming from his own side of the room. It wasn't that his roommates family was bothersome or obnoxious. It was the awful feeling of knowing he himself would never get a visit like that. From what he could remember, Harry's family hated him. He wasn't sure if they'd visited him once since admitting him.

"A small price," He muttered, scowling at the bed cover, "for a lifetime of health."

That had been the bargain. Harry's Aunt and Uncle would pay for his treatments, hospital bills, and room, not out of the goodness of their hearts or even from a familial obligation. They figured, this way Harry was not in the house, they wouldn't have to worry about constantly explaining his behaviors to the neighbors, and they could continue on with their perfect, ordinary life just as it was before he had landed in it. In return, Harry got a shiny new lease on life as long the hospital could cure his cancer, which was looking pretty good nowadays. The radiation was definitely helping, but made it difficult to eat. His tongue was constantly on fire, his skin dry and burning. Talking for more than a few minutes at a time would leave him in an unbearable pain that only the morphine could soothe.

Someone knocked on the door, letting it creak open to reveal the figure of one of his doctors.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter." Spoke Doctor Ienzo. Harry smiled at the man.

"Hello." He said amiably.

The doctor walked to the edge of his bed, pulling out a pen from the front pocket of his coat and a small blank pad. "How are you feeling today? You're looking pretty good after radiation."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, feeling loads better. Skipping yesterday definitely paid off."

Doctor Ienzo hummed in approval. "Good, good. Now," he clicked the pen and began to write something out onto the paper, "Dr. Brown wants to set up an appointment with you for tomorrow morning to go over surgery procedures. But, you're already scheduled for Reiki Therapy. Would you be okay if we moved your session into Thursday morning instead?"

Harry frowned. He really didn't want to switch time slots. It was already so difficult to get penciled in, patient or no, with the Reiki Healer and the dark haired teen didn't fancy the idea of giving it up to go over things he wouldn't need to worry about for another month. "Can't I go later on in the day instead?" He asked, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice.

Dr. Ienzo shook his head. "It would be easier, but I'm afraid you have chemo at three pm. There wouldn't be enough time." Harry sighed but nodded his head in understanding. Really, he shouldn't be so huffy over something small like that. He should be thankful to have a surgeon that reached out to him like Doctor Brown did. Dr. Ienzo clicked his pen again.

"Thanks, Harry. It'll really help to ease you through the procedure if we start getting you ready now. Starting next week we'll be changing a few of your prescriptions and altering the dosages of others. Small increments at a time of course. We just want to see if we can get you off those brain stimulants before the surgery." Something in Harry's gut swirled. He didn't want to be taken off the stimulants! Memory of his life before the little pills was foggy, at best, and he never wanted to go back to something so crippling.

"Doctor-" He began but stopped. The doctor would know what was best for him. After all, it had been thanks to the many miracles and constant care that Doctor Ienzo had performed for him that Harry had made it this far in his life at all. With his form of cancer, he should have died a very long time ago.

"Thank you." He said instead. The doctor smiled gratefully.

"Anything for you kiddo." Ienzo said, patting Harry's leg gently. "I'm going to head up to the OICC. If you need anything, let the nurse station know and I'll get to you as soon as I can."

Harry nodded again and watched with fond eyes as the doctor left the room. Ienzo always looked out Harry. In fact, whenever the hospital administrator had wanted to switch his doctors, Ienzo had always found a way to keep the position without out much of a fuss. Harry admired the man, idolized him in a fashion that a son would his father, and it made him happy to know he had somebody looking out for him like that. Content with the knowledge and information, even while his nerves simmered in his subconscious, Harry let himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.