TITLE: I Don't Ask You To Stay

SUMMARY: Hermione receives a devastating diagnosis. She and her family relocate to Scotland, to be close to the specialist hospital where she will receive treatment. Because she insists on continuing to attend school, they transfer her to Hogwarts Academy, where she meets the Weasleys, and Harry Potter. She tells nobody of what she fights, but when she falls in love, she realises she has no other option but to tell Ron exactly why she can't be in a relationship…

PAIRING: Will be Hermione/Ron

ALL HUMAN, NO MAGIC.

WARNING: Drama, angst, and I am emphasizing on the life-threatening illness here. It's going to get graphic.

HPOV

I sigh in relief as the water cascades over my shoulders. Oh, it's been a long day. My shoulders ache from carrying a back-pack of heavy books, my arms ache from swim practice, my legs hurt from the gym session. I lug the band out of my pony-tail and just stand, letting water cascade down me. I smile as I remember swim practice.

I was late, so I had only minutes to struggle into my costume and get pool-side. The day had been stupidly hot and stifling, and I couldn't wait to hit the pool. I tried hard to shake of the feeling of lethargy, but gave it up, realising the shock of the cool water would do that for me.

"Ah, Hermione, how nice of you to join us! In the pool, give me two laps, sprint work, please." the came up to the surface with a gasp after my dive. It felt almost too cold against my hot skin. "Miss Granger, we are waiting!" I stick my tongue out and swim away. I haul myself out and drip next to Coach for a while. "Miss Granger, go and stand over there. You're dripping on my feet. Alright, now, for warm up, I would like a 400 metre individual medley. Don't worry about timing, but don't take all afternoon.

"So, how was your weekend?" James asks me as we float peacefully at the end when we're done and waiting for everybody else.

"It was very restful. I lay on a beach for two days, it was very nice."

"Well, you look lovely."

"Flirt," I retort, splashing him. "And yours?"

"Depressing. It rained for three days."

"Ah yes, I remember the weather forecast." he hits me with his float and I whack him with my pull-buoy. We start a little mini-fight with a floating equipment until Coach breaks it up.

"You two want to flirt with each other, get out and do it!" he shakes his head and smiles. "Can we have one training session where you two don't flirt?"

We walk back to the changing rooms together.

"Are you going to the gym?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm not, not today. I've got a tonne of homework to do. I'll see you Friday?"

"Yeah, see you."

James would be, in an ideal world, be my perfect partner. But, in typical style, all the decent men are either gay or taken. Or both, in James' case. I shake my head, and then start soaping myself off. I stand for a long time, simply letting the hot water unknot my muscles and relax me. God, I needed that.

I reach up to turn the shower off, then bring my hand back down to bend behind my head. I start the ritual I repeat every month, without fail. My mum always says to check your breasts, both to me and my brother, who finds this confusing. He's at university, and it's not like I ask him whether or not he still does it. But I do. Every month, I make sure both breasts feel the same as they did the month before. I do one, and then Mum shouts up to me.

"Are you done in the shower yet?"

"Nearly!"

"Call me when I can put the washing machine on!"

"I will!"

"What would you like for dinner? I've got the mince out, so we can have pasta, or chilli, or spaghetti Bolognese…"

"Lasagne, please!" I stick my head back under the spray, and start to examine the other breast.

My fingers connect with a hard lump just behind my nipple. Time seems to stop. The water pounds in my head, getting too loud, too much. I fall to the floor with a thud. The water doesn't stop. It thunders in my head.