Chapter 8
It's almost four in the morning, on the twelfth of February, when I wake up in agony.
I roll over onto my front, swearing and vomiting noisily over the side of the bed. I scream, rolling back onto my back and crying out, tears streaming down my cheeks as I clutch at my side, writhing.
It hurts.
Moving hurts.
Breathing hurts.
Thinking hurts.
Bright lights explode behind my eyes, and I release a scream of utter agony.
"FREDDIE."
I hear the yells, but I don't take them in. They're separate to me. They don't matter. Nothing matters outside of the pain.
"DO SOMETHING."
"DO WHAT?"
"STUN HIM. KNOCK HIM OUT. I DON'T CARE. HE'S IN PAIN MAKE IT STOP."
I roar, rolling sideways again and falling from the bed, landing on the cold floor, my face splashing into something hot and wet. My sick.
As if there's time for me to be disgusted. I'm screaming again, striking out with my fists at an invisible enemy, my entire vision blood red.
"POMFREY." I screech. "POMFREY."
She's the only person I can think of. Maybe she can help. Maybe she can make the pain go away. Maybe she can make it end.
Hands clutch around me. I'm lifted back onto the bed. More pain.
There's more yelling, more voices. They seem to build up and build up until I can't take it anymore. Someone grabs hold of my hands, pinning me down and stopping me from thrashing around.
"FREDDIE. FREDDIE LISTEN TO ME. CHRIS HAS GONE FOR POMFREY, SHE'LL BE HERE SOON I PROMISE EVERYTHING'S GOING TO BE OKAY. I PROMISE FREDDIE."
It's James. His voice is thick with tears.
I think that's what brings me back to my senses; James voice. I stop, holding myself utterly still. Maybe if I stay still it'll hurt less.
It doesn't.
My breathing turning shallow, I screw my eyes tightly shut. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the end.
"James." I croak. "Hurts. Hurts."
His breath hitches. "I-I know. But it's going to stop, I swear. Pomfrey's going to be here soon, she'll fix it, she'll-"
I cut him off with another blood-curdling scream, wrenching my hands away from his and pounding my fists against the bed sheets. Somebody else in the room is screaming now too.
"FREDDIE HOLD ON. HOLD ON. SHE'S NEARLY HERE, SHE'S-"
He cuts off abruptly, swearing under his breath.
"Pomfrey!"
The relief that sears through me at the sound of her name is matched by a fresh wave of pain.
A bottle is pressed against my lips and I drink gratefully. No. I cough and splutter, pain searing through my throat.
There's a gasp, someone swears, and then a spell is muttered.
The world goes black.
I'm proud to walk out of St Mungo's on my own two feet three days later. Well, I say my own two feet but most of my weight is held up by a pair of crutches. I don't have to use them all the time. Only when I need to.
I'm not going to talk about the hospital because I don't want to. I'll tell you that the pain was caused by Spinal Cord Compressions, but nothing more than that. I've lost movement in the toes on my left foot, and I have to take a dose of 16mg per day of Dexamethasone to reduce edema around the lesion. No, don't worry, I don't understand a word of it either. I never really strived to understand my cancer in full medical terms. That idea scares me, to be honest. Mum and Dad have spent hours of their lives reading and researching, but that's not me. I trust the doctors to know if there's anything that can be done. I'm not going to waste the time I have left searching for a cure I know I won't find.
I'm supposed to be meeting Mum and Dad at two, and talking about what's happening next. They still want me to come home. Mum visited yesterday and told me that enough was enough. She tried to guilt me into it.
I'm not happy about this. I'm seventeen; I'm an adult. My life isn't up to them anymore.
Dad grins widely when I come into view. I don't know what happened after he got my letter, but he's changed.
"Hey, Freddie!" His cheerful wave is so out of character I'm left standing awkwardly, leaning on my crutches, smiling between him and Mum.
"Hey." I mumble, almost shyly. Why am I so shy? "S'up?"
Laughing, Dad stands up and pulls out a chair for me. I sit. We're in a typical muggle cafe, surrounded by chatting and laughing people. "How are you feeling, buddy?" He reaches out and touches my forehead. "You look great."
I know for a fact I look like shit. I raise my eyebrows. "There are mirrors in the hospital, you know."
His cheerful façade slipping only for a second, he frowns, glancing up at Mum.
She takes the hint, sliding her hand across the table to take mine. "You'll always be handsome to us."
"Please don't." My voice is cold. "I know what you want. I'm not coming home."
Mum's face falls. "We're not trying to-"
"Yes you are."
One silent tear rolls over mum's eyelid, sliding down her cheek. Dad wraps his arm around her, letting her lean across and bury her head in his shoulder, shaking as she cries.
"You don't have to come home." Dad's words are barely a whisper. It takes a few seconds before I can bring myself to believe that he could possibly have just said those words. "Fred-" he pauses, "-die. Freddie. You're our son and yes we love you. Yes if it was up to us we'd spend every last waking second you have at your side but… it's not. You're old enough to know what you want, and I know if I was you I'd want to live."
It looks like it physically pains him to say all this. Tears steam down his cheeks, but he holds my gaze. "I know there are times when I've been a shitty parent, in fact it's probably hard to find a time when I haven't been, but I'm changing that. It's your life, and we have no right to stop you from living it. Go back to Hogwarts, go see your friends, go have fun, have sex-" Mum coughs loudly at that one, but he shrugs. "He's seventeen. You think I don't remember what you and F-" He breaks off suddenly, face falling.
Oh fuck. We were doing so well.
I don't say anything. I wait to see what he'll do next.
I'm used to stuff like this happening. It happens so often. Something, usually something small, makes him think of Uncle Fred. His eyes go glassy, he mumbles something incomprehensible to excuse himself, and goes up to his and Mum's bedroom, locking the door and not emerging for hours.
This time though, he doesn't cry, he doesn't leave, he doesn't even frown. Instead, my Dad, George Weasley, the broken, shattered shell of a man left abandoned to wither and die, completely alien to a world without his brother, laughs.
He tilts his head back, staring between Mum and me, reaching out to grab hold of my hand and squeeze it gently as he guffaws, eyes crinkling up at the corners.
I don't understand. I glance up at Mum, trying to silently ask her if she has any idea what's going on. Evidently, she doesn't. But she doesn't look like she cares either. She looks at me, her expression somewhere halfway between exasperation and utter relief and to my shock, she starts giggling.
What? What the hell is happening to the world?
I'm doing it too now. One hand on my mouth, I crack up, staring at Dad and shaking my head. I don't understand. I don't understand one bit and I have no idea why I'm laughing too but this is just… I don't even know.
The three of us are utterly hysterical. Mum's head is back on Dad's shoulder, her pealing laughs earning us bewildered looks from the surrounding Muggles.
Dad stops laughing abruptly, leaning forwards and putting his hand on my shoulder. "Freddie, don't you dare let anyone take your life away from you. It's the most precious thing you have and I don't care if I change my mind in two minutes time. You go out there," he points out of the window vaguely, "and you do what you want. You laugh, you cry, you tell everyone you love just how much you love them." Standing up, he takes Mum's hand and places ten pounds of muggle money onto the table to pay for their drinks. "You deserve a life, Freddie. You deserve everything that you're not going to get and that's the worst thing in the world, but I will do everything in my power to make sure that you are going to have the time of your life while you still have one. I love you, kiddo." He smiles gently. "I hope you can forgive me for what I've done to you over the years."
Without another word, he drags Mum from the shop, only giving her time for one shouted "love you" before they're gone.
My heart pounding with utter ecstasy, I turn away from the window and stare forwards, eyeing up my pale and drawn reflection in the large decorative mirror on the other side of the restaurant. The boy opposite me has tears streaming down his cheeks and I lean forwards, trying to understand why someone who looks so happy could be crying so hard. I don't voice my question but personally I think his problem is that he's spend far too long trying to do what he thinks will please other people. He's just learnt to be selfish, and as I watch him he rises to his feet in the middle of the crowded muggle cafe, mouths 'YOLO', and turns on his heel, vanishing. When I open my eyes, he's gone, to be replaced by the so familiar outline of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I smile.
Hello little internet buddies, Hannah here! It's been a while, has it not? I've been quite busy doing things. Holidaying (fun), eating (fun), coming out to my parents (not so fun), but yeah, life's been happening and I haven't had quite as much time as I'd have liked over the last week or so. Anyway, there's an update here now.
Okay, so yeah, I realise this chapter is a lot shorter than is normal for me. I try to aim for about 4000 words, and this is only 1800, or something like that. The only reason is that I just like this point as a place to end the chapter. It feels like it needs something longer than another liney thing. Does that make sense? I hope nobody minds. I've also gone back and separated out the prologue and the first chapter, just for readability (I don't think that's a word...).
Regarding this chapter, I think I'm quite happy with it (which is rare coming from me). Maybe it's just the fact that it's 2:17am. Anyway, this chapter actually deviates from my plan completely, which I expected to happen at some point, so no worries. As far as his disease actually goes, I did some research, read some symptoms, started getting paranoid about my own health and then closed the tab. I've had my hypochondria stage and I have no wish to have it come back. As much as Freddie's disease is central to the story, and I know I should work hard to make sure that all my facts are right, and I might get yelled at for this, but the specifics of the cancer are not that important. This is a story about how Freddie deals with his disease, and how he interacts with his family, and how George is coping, so unless you have to be pedantic, give me some room for poetic licence? Of course if there's someone who can give me more information in a way that I understand (biology language = -_-), and knows about this stuff, that would b absolutely fantastic if you could message me and help me, because I would love to be able to make my story as accurate as possible, but apart from that, I hope nobody minds too much :)
Now the one other worry I have about the chapter is George. I've been told about this problem in a review for one of my other stories, so I know that I can have trouble keeping George in character. Now on the one hand, yes, this is a problem, and i strive to keep things as canon as possible. On the other, George is going to be very, very different from how he was in the books. He's older, has a lot more life experience, is used to life without Fred, and what with Freddie, he's not going t be George exactly as you know him from the books. He's damaged. And that's something I have to take into account.
Jesus, that made me sound quite smart we can't let that happen.
Anyway, as it's now 2:43am (I stopped writing for half an hour because tumblr) I think I'm going to have to go to bed. I say this at the end of every chapter but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW. Not only does it make me really, really happy, it helps me to improve my writing and that's the whole point of everything, isn't it?
Holy crap I've gone and written a chapter commentary that's longer than the actual thing :/
Anyway (again), one million hugs to anyone who reviews or favourites, or generally just for reading this far in the first place. It might just seem like one more fanfic to you, but it really does mean a lot to me, so thank you.
Happy new year to everyone, and I just hope you have a really good one.
Thank you,
Hannah :)
P.S. I almost forgot. I made a new cover thingy. It's a bit... I'm not really sure about it, and Bluey Robinson's head's been squished so it's too long, and you can't see the 'T' in 'Turned to Dust' but ah well. Thoughts?
