Chapter Nine: Diagnosis

Hermione Granger Point of View

I didn't know where I was when I woke up. Soft yellow light was streaming through light blue curtains, and I was lying in an unfamiliar dressing gown, covered under a scratchy sort of blanket. I tried to move but I ached all over, like I had been coughing for a week straight without any breathe. I groaned and rolled over, but medical thingies on my arms made that impossible. I looked towards the other side of the room, the one that I had been trying to face. It was a plain wall, with pictures of plants and such. Chairs for visitors were lined up and on the last one, my husband dearest; his head at an awkward angle, his toned body slouched in the surely uncomfortable seat. I knew that position was purely by choice because I could see his eyes fluttering and slightly opening. Like he was awake, but didn't want to look out and see the world, like he'd been hearing things for way too long and wouldn't check to see if he was actually hearing things now. I cleared my throat by he still didn't move.

"D-Henry," I coughed at my attempt of speaking loud. I watched as Draco jumped up automatically, completely at my side before I could even give him a forced half smile.

"Hey, shh, don't talk, love, I'm here. Don't waste all of your energy, you need to recover." I tried to nod but Draco was gently holding my face before I could.

"I…I don't need to be coddled," I muttered out. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Sure you don't, Mio-Margaret, you've just been coughing your lungs out, in your sleep, diagnosed with-" I looked at him with as much sharpness as I could muster.

"What's wrong with me? I don't even know what happened. I felt fine and then I just….didn't." Draco shushed me again, and sat on the side of the bed.

"Sweetheart, I can't really say. The doctor people, they say that they'll be done with the diagnostics soon but…" I nodded, squeezing my eyes close. There was something…something from my past that I'd hoped I could leave behind. I knew what the diagnostic test was going to be. I didn't need to have the Doctors tell me what was wrong. If my theory was right, and I dearly hoped that it wasn't, then I already really knew how to handle myself in this situation, and I would only really live for a little while longer anyway.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I'm sorry to inform you, but you're child has been diagnosed with Leukemia. It's a very advanced case already, and, I don't think that she is going to make it." The Doctors had informed my parents, my mother sobbing into my father's rumpled jacket. "There's nothing that we can really do, it's all come on so fast…" Was there anyone in your past family that had any sort of cancer, like this or any other that you know about? We need all the information that we can get." I looked through my mind's eye as my parent's shook their heads in a positive 'no.' there was nobody else that they would know about. After all, I had been adopted from birth.

It was one of the many secrets that I had kept from everybody, everybody except for the man who had saved me: Albus Dumbledore. I had never really even let myself think about that. In reality, I had been left like Harry, on my parent's doorstep. I had never told, because something deep down inside of me, told me that everybody would just pity the little Muggle-Born child and make it easier on her to survive in the Wizarding world. And that was the last thing that I needed. If everybody went soft on me, how would I ever be strong and succeed? That was my desire for taking the hard classes back in my years at Hogwarts. I didn't want to let my birth-parents, wherever and whoever they were, down, and I had to prove to myself that not being wanted was not because of a lack of brains. It definitely wasn't. I believed that now.

I had been raised up believing that my parents were truly my parents, that they had conceived me, and given birth to me. I had lived with a couple for nine years believing that they couldn't judge me because I was family, and that they actually had to love me, no matter what. And then I turned nine years old, the coughing began, and I figured out that my state of mind and my family was all just a lie.

My parents had taken me to the nearest Hospital, after almost two days of straight coughing. They had given up their theories of 'just a cold' and had started a process of constant worrying. I'd found out that I had Leukemia. I was given a year and a half to finish living my life.

My parents and I were devastated. I didn't know who to turn to for comfort. I didn't quite trust my mother and father just them because of the lies, and I didn't really have any friends at the local school that I went to for a while. I had just started third grade. Honestly, all I really knew about what was happening to me was that I hurt really badly and that I wasn't going to live for much longer. That was about it besides the fact that whenever anybody looked at me I just saw sorrow in their eyes, and regret. That was it.

I suffered through a month, which became two, and then three. Before I knew it, I ended up almost at the deadline for my breath to stop. It was sixteen months later, almost on the exact day. I remember it perfectly.

I sat waiting on the white hospital bed staring at the sun and smiling flowers outside. I frowned, my almost eleven year old self a bit petulant. They were frolicking around in the warm summer air while I was stuck in here with a stack of new musty old books my parents gave to me. A soft knocking on the door made me turn around slowly. I couldn't move fast anymore. It hurt too badly. The soft knock was another thing. Nobody did anything loud anymore. Nobody even laughed, and when I tried to make a joke, everybody stared like I had just grown another head.

"Hermione dearest, there's a rather…well, there's a man here to see you darling." My mother spoke from the doorway. I was confused but the hesitation on my mother's face was getting too much for me and I needed to see somebody, who hopefully, wouldn't treat me as a toy ready to be broken. I nodded my head in affirmation towards my mother and turned back around to face the window. It was only a few moments until another knock, rather pronounced, a very nice change I thought, and I saw his reflection in the mirror. He was rather old, with a graying beard that he had tucked into the waistband of his trouser suit. His suit ensemble was a light blue color, just a tad darker than the sky outside of my window. I turned around on my bed and faced him. I noticed that he wore a cheery smile and had a telltale twinkle in his bright blue eyes. I immediately liked him for his cheerfulness. I hadn't really gotten any of that in a year.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. I'm dying so don't mince words!" In the memory, I had been a bit impatient with those that smiled at me, because I always knew that their smiles would go away to replace sadness.

"Ah, I know my child. My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore. I am Headmaster of a special school for children just like you." He smiled at me.

"There's a school for kids that are dying?" That didn't seem right to me, but rather downright sad and cruel.

"No, Ms. Granger. It is a school for people with magic, like you have inside of you. You are a witch child. A very good one I would bet as well." I was sure that the man was joking with me.

"If the Hospital sent you to try and fool me with fables and to make me smile, it won't work. I don't like people that lie to me…"

"No child, I'm not with this fine establishment. And I am not lying to you."

"I don't see how I can believe you, Sir. I don't know you or your background and your nature of bamboozling children." The so called Professor chuckled and I frowned at him moodily. "If you are so intent on saying that I am a witch with actual magical powers, then prove it. There's no better way to get the truth that to see it in person, after all."

"True my child. But I have already showed you. You are healed. You are not going to die anymore. That is my proof to you." I looked up at him in shock, wonder and caution in my eyes.

"Sir, it's not nice to give people false hope. I know because once, the Doctor told my mother that I might actually have a chance with this therapy but it didn't work. She hurt something awful after. I know because she never left my room, and never left my side for a whole three days and didn't stop crying her eyes out the whole time."

"Child," Professor Dumbledore looked at me fondly, go stand up and walk around. Go outside and run through the grass and that will prove it to you. You can frolic with all the flowers and sunshine that you want. And when you do not stop to cough then you will know. I will come back in a month to talk about the school some more with you and your parents. Good luck, my child. I hope you consider your place in my school." After that the Professor walked out, leaving me awestruck. I did as he had told me, running past my parents and all of the Doctors and Nurses and played in the grasses for ages. When they finally caught me and brought me back in for tests, I learned that it was true. I was healed. There was almost no chance that the Leukemia would come back.

But it had. And now here I was, sitting in another unfamiliar Hospital bed, with a good looking man who I used to hate pretending to be my husband by my side. I would die without getting to say goodbye to my friends, my family. I would never even get to truly figure out what this bond was between me and Draco.

With all of the energy I could muster, I just broke down and cried, thinking of all the things that I would never be able to do. Of course the magic that Dumbledore had cast upon me wouldn't last, now that he was passed on. I don't think he realized that he had just lengthened my life, and not saved it. I wasn't sure why the Leukemia had reappeared now; I just knew that it had. I just knew that I had so much to truly live for, and it would all be going away in what would seem like the blink of an eye.

Draco was startled at my reaction, and immediately laid down beside me in the tiny hospital bed and let me curl up against his warm chest and bawl my eyes out. He didn't know what was happening but he was still there. He was becoming the one constant in my life. I was surprised that with everything going on with my body right now, that thought had crossed my mind. And thinking back, I realized that that was true.

Whenever I was for lack of some random office supply, Draco was always in full supply and ready to lend. Whenever I needed clarification on information, he would tell me, almost even before I would ask. Whenever I just needed a break, he had always been there to keep others away and take my work for me. We had always exchanged the needed words that came after things like that, like 'Thank You' or 'Your Welcome' but somehow through all of that, he truly had become the one thing in my life that I could actually count on.

I mean, Ginny and Harry, they were great. But they were in love…and producing lots of happy bouncing babies. They tried to be there for me, but they had their own lives to deal with. And Ronald…you couldn't really count on Ronald for anything for than an un-lasting smile and sheer dumb loyalty. And all of that was great, but it just wasn't what I needed. It wasn't…there.

It felt like forever before my sobs finally ceased into an awful silence, filled with more emotion that I think either one of us cared to deal with or even recognize. I couldn't stand leaving him in the dark, knowing how much I hated people doing that to me, but I couldn't break our silence and tell him that his 'wife' would soon be dead and he'd have to accomplish the mission pretty much by himself. The Ministry wouldn't take us out of our assignments, even if one of us was dying. They only cared about catching the bad guys…if only they could catch Leukemia. I decided that he had to know, no matter how much it hurt me. I was scared for the cautious and pitying looks to start up again, but knew that my 'husband' needed the truth. He deserved it as well.

"Draco…I-" I looked up at him, at his worried yet strong face, preparing himself for something undoubtedly not as bad as what was actually happening. "Draco, I have Leukemia."

His face was unexpected. Instead of horror, or fear even, all he showed was confusion. Apparently 'Muggle' diseases were rather unheard of in the Wizarding world.

"It's a Muggle disease Draco. It's a cancer of the bone marrow that prevents the normal manufacturing of red and white blood cells and platelets, resulting in anemia, increased susceptibility to infection, and impaired blood clotting. Draco…it's pretty much fatal…I had it when I was a kid and…Draco, I'm going to die."

Again, instead of the expected pity or sadness, I was surprised. Draco's face, always so calm and concrete, never truly betraying any emotion, looked broken, full of pain and anguish, and no, never in all of my life, did I expect to see actual tears rolling down his face.