Authors note: Maximum angst in this chapter.

Chapter Ten

"There, all set," Healer Camden announced. "Are you comfortable?"

Harry looked down at the strange set of tubes attached to a port inside of his chest, located just beneath his collar bone. Healer Camden had called it a 'central venous catheter,' and it was meant to send medicine directly into his veins. Fortunately, magic allowed Camden to insert the port and catheter without any pain or discomfort on Harry's part. That didn't stop Harry from feeling vaguely weirded out by the idea of it being inside of him, though. It was the first time in a long time he'd received any kind of treatment the muggle way. Their methods were strangely impersonal and invasive.

"It's a bit weird," Harry said, gently prodding one of the tubes. He thought he looked like some kind of science experiment.

"I agree, I'll never understand muggle medicine," Camden chuckled. "It'd taken us several days to get down mechanics of how IVs work. Such a strange concept."

"Is this really the only way we can do this?" Harry asked, still trying to wrap his head around the notion of being treated the muggle way. He was sure Healer Camden was finding it just as strange as he was.

"I'm afraid so," Camden sighed. "This new form of treatment is more direct than the previous ones. Potions weren't working because you couldn't keep them down and wands alone don't seem to have any effect."

"What's the new treatment, anyway?" Harry asked dubiously. Part of him was glad he no longer had to choke down awful tasting potions, but the other part of him had a feeling this wasn't going to be pleasant either.

"It's a concoction my team and I formulated," Camden answered, lifting up a strange looking bag filled with clear fluid. "We took the muggle treatment for cancer and infused it with magic. It should attack both the cancer and the curse causing it."

"Will it actually work?" Harry asked, not daring to get his hopes up. So far, all of their efforts had been in vain.

"I won't lie to you, Harry," Camden responded. "There's a good chance this disease might never go away. Our goal right now is just to manage it. However..."

Harry's stomach knotted up at that. "However...?"

"Even if we were able to do that," Camden continued, looking a bit uncomfortable, "it would only give you a few more years at best. The curse's nature is to kill, and it's doing everything it can to break your body down. Even if we slowed its progression, it's very likely you still wouldn't live to your early 20s."

"Oh," was all Harry could manage to say. He knew he was upset, but for some reason his brain was blocking the emotion off.

"I don't want to discourage you, Harry," Camden said, reaching out to give Harry's shoulder a squeeze. "We're still going to work tirelessly to find a cure, but you need to be aware of the probabilities."

"Yeah, I understand," Harry said numbly with a feeble nod. "Thank you."

"Good lad," Camden added with another squeeze. "Let's get you set up with your first round of treatment."

Harry just nodded again, blankly staring down at his lap. The only thing he could think about was how scratchy and thin his blankets were. Whenever another thought started to enter his mind, it immediately floated away into nothingness. He figured it was his brain trying to shut down. He couldn't blame it, either, seeing as it'd had dealt with a lot lately. He just wished the rest of him would shut down too. Harry was only vaguely aware of Camden moving around him. He set up the bag of liquid on a pole next to his bed and started connecting the tube leading from the bag to Harry's catheter.

"Now, the muggle medicine, called chemotherapy, is known for it's...ah, rather unpleasant side effects," Camden said when he was done attaching the IV. "We've magically altered it a bit to alleviate some of those side effects."

"What kind of side effects are they?" Harry asked, finally managing to coalesce a coherent thought.

"Some of the most common ones are nausea, fatigue, diarrhea or constipation, and hair loss," Camden informed.

Harry's head snapped up. "Hair loss?"

"Don't worry, Harry," Camden consoled. "Like I said, we altered the treatment so you won't experience those side effects to a serious degree."

"But I'll still experience them?" Harry frowned.

"Perhaps a few," Camden said with an encouraging smile. "The magical properties require a very delicate balance with the muggle medicine. We didn't want to upset the balance too much in case it decreased its effectiveness."

"Oh, that's just great," Harry groaned, flopping back onto his pillow. "I'm going to be bald."

Camden laughed at him. "No, you won't, Harry. Even if you did start losing hair, we can reverse the effects."

"Oh, well, good," Harry blinked, looking over at Camden. For some reason, the idea of losing his hair had been more horrific than anything else he'd dealt with so far. He didn't want to die and look like an alien.

"If you feel any discomfort during the course of treatment, let Madam Pomfrey know," Camden said as he checked the IV to make sure it was working properly. "Otherwise, it should only take an hour or so to finish."

"Okay," Harry nodded. Inwardly, he was dreading having to spend an hour in the infirmary three times a week getting treatments.

"In the meantime, you can read a book or do some homework," Camden said, turning to him. Then he started looking around as if he'd just noticed something missing. "Where are your two friends, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger? They're usually here with you, aren't they?"

Harry felt like something had just kicked him in the chest and he turned his gaze downward. "We're kind of not talking right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Camden said with sympathetic eyes. "I'm sure whatever's going on, you three will work it out. I know a good friendship when I see one."

Camden gave him a pat on the shoulder and then walked out of the room, leaving Harry to his thoughts. Harry's hands curled into his blankets, eyes closing as he tried to ignore the burning pain in his chest. He hadn't talked to Ron or Hermione in almost two days and, of course, it was all his fault. They were respecting his request to be left alone, and probably hated him on top of that. He hadn't exactly treated them well the last time they'd talked.

Lying back again, Harry turned his attention towards the IV. He watched the way the clear fluid dripped down into the tube little by little. It was oddly hypnotizing, and his head started emptying of all thoughts until he was only aware of the dripping. He must have been staring at it like that for a long time, because the next thing he realized, the dripping had stopped and the bag was empty.

At the sound of rain, Harry turned his gaze over to the window and watched it patter against the glass for what could have been a minute or an hour. The rain reminded him that everything was continuing on as it always did, even though Harry was lying in bed, dying. It was strange to realize that the world would keep going even after he was gone. The only difference was he wouldn't be around to experience it. Sitting up, Harry quietly disconnected the IV from his catheter and slid out of bed. The ground was ice cold under his bare feet, but he walked over to the window anyway.

Stopping in front of the window, Harry's eyes followed the rain. He became fascinated by the trails of water against the pane of glass, and he reached a finger out to trace over them. The patterns that formed were oddly beautiful, something he had never taken time to notice before.

'Would the world notice my absence?'

Turning the latch, Harry pushed the window open and was hit with a gust of cold air. The rain splattered lightly against his face and he blinked when a few raindrops attached to his lashes. They felt heavy like tears. Slowly, he stuck his hands out the window and started catching the rain in his palms. The coldness of the water shocked his system back to life. The numbness from before faded away until he was suddenly seeing and feeling everything. The bite of the wind, the water on his skin, the taste of rain, the smell of damp earth, the cold. In that moment, he loved the cold more than anything.

Climbing onto the windowsill, Harry leaned farther out into the rain so he could feel it on his face and in his hair. His clothing became soaked and his body started to shiver, but he didn't mind. If he was feeling anything at all, that meant he wasn't dead yet. He inhaled deeply, feeling the fresh, clean air opening up his lungs, and for the first time in what felt like days, he could breathe.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?!"

Harry jumped in surprise and nearly tumbled right out the window. Fortunately, someone grabbed him around the waist before he could fall to his death and hauled him back into the infirmary. Soaking wet and breathing hard now, Harry turned to see Ron staring down at him with impossibly wide, horrified eyes.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Ron yelled at him, making Harry take a step back in alarm.

"Uh-"

"Just because you've stopped caring, doesn't mean WE have!"

"Ron I-"

"How could you be so selfish?! What about me and Hermione, huh? Did you even THINK about how this would affect us?"

"I don't-"

"You're supposed to be a fighter! The bloody savior of the wizarding world! You can't just give up like that! We can work through this, damn it!"

"RON!" Harry yelled over his ranting, effectively cutting the other boy off. "Seriously, what are you on about?"

"What am I on about?" Ron repeated in exasperation and disbelief, nearly yelling again. "I'm on about you trying to jump out the bloody window, that's what!"

Harry blinked a few times before snorting. Surely Ron of all people would know how absurd that sounded. "Oh my God, Ron, you idiot, I was just watching the rain."

Ron's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Watching the rain? With nearly your entire body hanging out the window?"

"It did look really bad, Harry," Hermione said from beside him, taking Harry by surprise. Considering Ron had pretty much accosted all of his attention with his little tirade, Harry hadn't even noticed she was in the room until just then.

"Oh, I didn't realize I'd leaned so far out," Harry said, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"So, you really weren't trying to throw yourself out the window?" Ron asked, eyeing Harry with uncertainty.

"No, Ron, I really wasn't," Harry said with a small laugh. "I promise. I don't want everyone to remember me as a pancake."

Ron relaxed a little and nodded. "Alright, good. I was this close to beating your skinny little arse, you know that?"

"I kind of gathered as much," Harry smiled. "You've never been good with subtly."

"What were you doing out in the rain like that, anyway?" Hermione asked, taking a step closer.

"It just felt good," Harry responded with a shrug. He didn't expect Hermione to understand that. "Needed some fresh air, I guess."

"Well, be more careful next time, alright?" Hermione said with a hint of concern. "You could get really sick doing that."

Harry's smile dropped into a frown. Unsurprisingly, Hermione's words had struck him the wrong way. All of the negative emotions that had washed away in the rain were returning like a vicious flood. He'd been dragged back into the cruel reality of his illness and reminded that there were so many things he couldn't do anymore. Any time he started to feel a shred of happiness, someone slammed him with the fact that he was sick. His life had basically become a cage, where his only purpose was to stay alive and nothing else.

"I just wanted to, okay?" Harry replied, trying his best to keep his voice even. "I felt like I was going to go crazy lying in bed all day."

"Oh, well you-"

"And you know what else?" Harry's voice raised, cutting Hermione off. His efforts at keeping his anger under control had failed spectacularly. He had foolishly thought everything had gone back to normal. But they hadn't—the issues that had started to surface the other day were still there and still very raw. "I shouldn't have to explain my every action to you or anyone else. I'm an adult, Hermione, meaning I can do whatever the hell I want!"

"Hey, back off, Harry," Ron interjected, stepping between him and Hermione. "Hermione's just worried about you. We all are!"

"Well, just STOP!" Harry yelled, shoving Ron roughly in the chest, causing Hermione to gasp. "I'm sick of it!"

Ron stumbled back and stared at him in shock. Harry's wild and sudden mood change had taken everyone off guard. Ron's ears were turning red, indicating that he was starting to get angry. Good. Harry wanted them to get angry They needed to understand just how messed up the entire situation was. He wanted them to feel what he was feeling.

"Harry..." Ron said in a low, warning voice.

"What, Ron?" Harry said, breathing hard as he shoved his friend again. He was antagonizing him on purpose and he knew it. He tried to urge himself to stop but it was far too late for that. "Got something to say like you always do?"

Ron was obviously trying his best to ignore Harry's baiting, but his face was completely red and his fists were trembling at his sides in anger. Harry briefly wondered if Ron might actually hit him, and there was an insane part of his brain that wanted him to. He was just so angry and he wanted to feel something else for a change. He just wanted to feel better.

"Harry, please calm down," Hermione said in a trembling voice. She almost sounded afraid. "We're your friends. We just want to help."

Harry rounded on her. The tears in her eyes did nothing to abate his anger. If anything, it only made him angrier—he just failed to realize in time that it was at himself and not Hermione. "Do you really think you're helping by turning me into a prisoner of my illness? Is that what friends do? For someone so smart, you can be really stupid sometimes, Hermione."

That seemed to do the trick. Ron was on him in an instant grabbing Harry by the front of his shirt and slamming him roughly against the wall. "You better watch your mouth, Harry!"

"RON!"

"No, Hermione!" Ron seethed, still glaring at Harry. "I want to know what the hell his problem is!"

Harry flinched as his entire back erupted in pain. He wouldn't be surprised if it had bruised instantly on impact. Ron seemed to have noticed this as well because he immediately let go of Harry. His glare remained in place, though and he still looked absolutely livid. Harry just slumped against the wall, gasping for breath as used a trembling hand to wipe saliva away from his mouth. He couldn't catch his breath and he was hurting all over. Why couldn't he breathe? Before he knew it, a hot wave of tears started trailing down his face.

"The problem is..." Harry said hoarsely. "I'm dying. I'm dying."

Ron's glare faltered as if that answer had been unexpected. "That's no reason to treat us like we're the enemy, Harry."

"You don't understand!" Harry yelled, bordering on hysterics now. "You two act like you know what's going on but you don't know a THING about it!"

"Then tell us, Harry!" Ron yelled back. "We're trying to be your friends here, but you're making it really bloody difficult!"

Harry's chest felt like it was about to burst wide open. All of the things he had been keeping inside had compacted into a large, uncomfortable lump that was trying to force its way up his throat. He desperately tried to swallow it down, tried to bury it so deep that he never had to face what was there. But there was too much of it and there wasn't enough room inside of him to hold all of it anymore. Before he could stop it, everything began spilling out like a tidal wave.

"I SHOULDN'T BE DYING!" he screamed, his voice cracking with so much despair even he could hear it. His words hung heavily in the air like unwelcome presence. "...I shouldn't be dying. I defeated Voldemort, that should have been the end of it! It shouldn't be like this. It's not fair. It's just not fair."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered next to him. There were tears streaming down her face and she looked completely heartbroken. "We know. It really is unfair."

"I'd come to terms with dying at Voldemort's hand. I'd accepted it. I was ready for it," Harry choked out, barely able to talk over his sobbing now. "But this...I'm not ready to die like this. I'm scared."

Ron suddenly yanked Harry into a tight embrace, though the only thing Harry could do was release a trembling breath. He was still shaking and he felt strangely empty without all of that locked up inside of him. Everything that had been plaguing him for the past couple of months was finally out in the open. He'd tried so hard to deny the reality of the situation, despite it staring him right in the face every day. He'd refused to believe that he was dying because that wasn't how it was supposed to be. He'd fulfilled the prophecy—Voldemort had died, which meant he could finally live. He'd won. It wasn't right that things were ending this way. He was supposed to finally get a chance at a real life. He'd earned it. It was like the ultimate cosmic joke.

"I'm scared too," Ron whispered into his shoulder. Harry thought he felt something hot and wet dripping against his neck. "I don't want to lose my best mate."

Harry could feel the rapid beating of Ron's heart. Or maybe it was his own? He couldn't tell them apart anymore, they felt exactly the same. The sound was oddly soothing, reminding him that he was still part of the world. He'd never appreciated the beauty and importance of a heartbeat until just then. It was so delicate and fragile but it was the reason they were alive.

'I'm alive. I'm still alive.'

When Hermione walked over, Ron merely pulled her in against them. They stood there like that, wrapped around each other like nothing else existed outside of their embrace. They were clinging to Harry just as much as Harry was clinging to them. It was the only thing they could do now to keep from falling. Everything was so terrifying and messed up, but for the time being, it didn't matter. Ron and Hermione were there. He was still there.

His heart continued beating.