Chapter Eleven

Harry decided that he really liked music. It was one of those normal teenager things he'd never truly had the chance to experience before. Almost everyone else could name at least 10 favorite bands off the top of their heads, while Harry couldn't name a single one. It was strange to realize just how much of his life had been dominated by the war. It hadn't been as obvious back then because it'd simply become his way of life. Yet, with everything returning to normal now, he was being smacked in the face with just how much he'd missed out on.

So, with that in mind, one day Harry sat down in front of the radio and switched it on. Ever since, he'd practically became glued to the thing. It seemed like the only time he wasn't listening to music was when he was in lessons. He'd even started taking the radio into the infirmary so he could listen to it during treatments. It made the whole process a lot more bearable - Healer Camden and Madam Pomfrey seemed to enjoy it as well.

Ron had claimed that Harry was becoming a man obsessed, but neither he or Hermione had the heart to take the radio away from him. Everyone in Gryffindor had started calling it 'Harry's radio' because he always had it with him.

In fact, he was currently lying in bed while listening to it, his fingers gently tapping to the beat against the mattress. Harry had discovered that he liked the upbeat songs the best. He liked to imagine the singer must have been really happy when they'd written it and that thought always made Harry feel good. The sadder songs made him think about his situation too much, but Harry was starting to think that might be a positive thing. It was difficult to explain, but it made him feel like he was finally connecting with the world, instead of totally detaching himself like he'd been doing for so long. It made him feel less lonely, which was a feeling he'd been experiencing a lot of lately.

Harry's attention was broken away from his radio when something was thrown over his head, blinding his vision. Shooting upright, he felt a seize of irrational panic. However, when he pulled the offending object off his head, he saw that it was only a heavy coat. With his eyebrows raised, he turned to Ron, who was standing over him with a grin on his face.

"C'mon, mate, we're going to Hogsmeade," he announced cheerfully. "You need to get your lazy bum some fresh air and exercise."

Harry just rolled his eyes and tossed the coat back at Ron playfully. "Alright, alright, just let me finish this song first."

Ron caught the coat after it smacked him in the face. "Figure out which ones are your favorites yet? I mean, you must have listened to a thousand songs by now."

Harry paused for a moment in thought. It should have been simple for him to name a few by now, but he found that he still couldn't. It wasn't like before, though, when he literally hadn't even known that many bands. Instead, he'd focused more on enjoying the music rather than picking out favorites. Honestly, he liked everything, from Celestina Warbeck to Lorcan d'Eath. They were all unique and interesting in their own way.

"Everything," Harry finally answered.

Ron looked perplexed for a moment. "Everything?"

"Yeah, I don't really have a favorite," Harry explained with a shrug. "I like them all."

"Makes sense to me," Ron laughed. "It'd sure make it easier to find a good song on the radio when you like it all."

"Exactly," Harry said as he stood up and switched off the radio. "Anyway, I'll be ready to go in a minute."

After rummaging through his trunk for a bit, Harry finally procured two long sleeve shirts and a thick, black jumper. He put all tree of them on underneath the coat and slipped two pairs of socks over his feet for good measure. He was finding it more and more difficult to stay warm as time went on, especially with December drawing near. He was always freezing, it seemed like, and it didn't help that he'd dropped a fair bit of weight. He could almost count all of his ribs individually now (he was glad for the excuse to wear so many layers, so Ron and Hermione wouldn't notice just how thin he was now).

"Are you sure you don't want to throw on another jumper or two?" Ron teased when Harry was dressed. "I don't think you're wearing enough clothes."

"If I put anymore on, I won't be able to walk," Harry laughed. He did feel quite bulky, but it was better than freezing to death.

"Good point," Ron responded as they walked out the door. "I can just imagine you waddling all the way to Hogsmeade."

They saw that Hermione was already waiting for them in the common room when they headed down. She was quite bundled up herself, with a fuzzy hat covering her bushy hair and one of Mrs. Weasley's scarves wrapped around her neck. Harry was glad he wasn't the only one who couldn't tolerate the cold. He'd never understand how Ron could go out in sub-freezing weather with only a jumper on.

"You two ready to go?" Hermione asked them with a smile.

"You bet! Harry's got his twelve jumpers on and everything!"

"It's not quite twelve."

"Close enough." They laughed at him.

It was Harry's first Hogsmeade trip of the year, so he was feeling particularly excited to go. He usually ended up sleeping until mid-afternoon most weekends, and even when he finally did wake up, he always felt too horrid to go anywhere. Today was one of the rare days where he wasn't rendered crippled by pain or nausea.

He'd also been looking forward to spending some time with Ron and Hermione again. A lot of the tension they'd been carrying around for weeks had finally started to ease. They'd both stopped fretting so much, and Harry, in turn, learned to tolerate their concern a little more. He had to remind himself that it was their way of dealing with things, not some attempt at making him miserable like he'd made it out to be. The blow up in the infirmary had proven to them that they were all struggling with the situation, and they needed each other to get through it. It may have taken a total breakdown, but they were now able to start building the pieces back up.

There was a slight drizzle falling from the steely grey sky when they stepped outside. The bitter November wind nipped at their cheeks and the remainder of the dying leaves broke off the trees and fluttered away. Harry was already shivering despite his many layers, but he was still enjoying the fresh air. It seemed like it'd been ages since he'd last stepped outside. Most of his days were spent in the infirmary or holed up in the library while he desperately tried to keep up with his coursework. Just the act of going outside became something Harry had sorely taken for granted before becoming ill.

Hermione and Ron were immersed in a conversation as they walked. Over time, Harry had taken to noticing the couple's little quirks whenever they interacted with each other. Hermione always had this little smile on her face while talking to Ron, and Ron had picked up the habit of unconsciously twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. Harry thought it was actually kind of cute. It reassured him that they'd always have each other, even after he was gone. For that, he knew they'd be okay.

When they reached Hogsmeade, the first thing they did was head to Honeyduke's, because Harry had decided he needed a big package of treacle fudge. Ron, of course, never objected to a trip to Honeyduke's. It was just as busy and packed as always when the three of them stepped inside. They could barely squeeze themselves through the crowd; in fact, Harry's glasses had been knocked off his face by someone's elbow. It'd taken a few minutes of awkwardly searching through people's legs before Hermione was the one to finally find them. They were, miraculously, still in one piece.

"I swear, Harry, you lose these things so much, you really should consider switching to contacts," Hermione said as she set them on Harry's face.

"He can't just get rid of his glasses, Hermione," Ron said in mock horror. "They're part of his Boy-Who-Lived image! They're iconic!"

"All the more reason to get rid of them," Harry pointed out, turning his attention to a large jar of Chocoballs.

Suddenly deciding that treacle fudge wasn't going to be enough, Harry also grabbed some of the Chocoballs and a few of the sherbet balls next to them. He didn't stop there, though, and before he knew it, his arms were piled with Chocolate Frogs, Drooble's Gum, Pepper Imps, Crystallised Pineapple, Cauldron Cakes and everything else he could get his hands on. By the time he was finished, he could barely balance all of it and had to have Hermione carry some of it for him.

"Blimey, Harry, are you stocking up for the winter?" Ron asked, eyes wide with amazement.

"Not that I'm complaining, since you really need to eat more and all," Hermione said, looking perplexed, "but don't you think that's a bit much?"

"I dunno," Harry said with a shrug, looking down at his items. "Guess I just want to make sure I try everything again at least one more time."

It was the first time since the hospital wing incident that Harry had straight up acknowledged the fact that he was dying. He'd come to the realization that a big reason why things had gotten to the state they had, was because he'd been refusing to accept what was happening. With so much stuffed down inside of him, it'd been inevitable that things had reached a breaking point. After that day, he'd made a promise to himself to stop hiding from it so much. It was difficult and awkward, but oddly it made him feel a little better; a little lighter.

There was only a brief pause in which Ron and Hermione looked vaguely uncomfortable by Harry's statement, but it passed quickly.

"Well, in that case..." Ron started grabbing up things off the shelves too, making Harry and Hermione laugh.

"That just looks like a normal trip to Honeyduke's for you Ron," Harry pointed out.

"Which is why I know all the best things to try," Ron grinned, heading up to the front of the shop so they could pay for their items.

Harry ended up having to pay for most of it, which really wasn't that surprising seeing as Ron rarely had spare pocket change. He didn't mind, though. He liked doing things like that for his friends, and he figured there was no harm in having a little fun with his gold while he still had the chance. Buying a stone's worth of sweets probably hadn't been on the list of things his parents had intended the money to be used for but he was sure they would've understood. When they walked out of Honeyduke's, they were each carrying two bags packed full of sweets.

The rain was beating down hard now, so they made a run for The Three Broomsticks. Their attempts at protecting themselves from the rain had failed miserably, and by the time they got there, their hair was sopping wet and the legs of their jeans were soaked from splashing through puddles. The pub was just as busy as Honeyduke's had been, but at least they were out of the rain.

"Alright, you two find a table, I'll get the butterbeers," Harry said, slightly out of breath and pushing some wet hair out of his face.

While Hermione and Ron moved towards the back of the pub, Harry went to get their drinks. They felt pleasantly warm in his hands as he carried them back to their table. Ron and Hermione had managed to find one near the fireplace, which Harry was infinitely grateful for. After setting the butterbeers down, Harry moved his seat as close as possible to the fire, trying to get some warmth back into his frozen body. Though Ron and Hermione had gotten just as soaked as he had, they weren't shivering nearly as hard as he was. He could already feel the beginnings of a cold coming on.

"We really should make more bets over chess, Harry," Ron said, taking a big drink from his butterbeer. "I'd never have to buy butterbeer again."

"Ha, I don't think so," Harry responded, coughing softly into his arm. His throat felt really scratchy. "I've learned my lesson."

"But you need all the practice you can get!"

"No, I need to maintain my dignity," Harry arched a brow.

"Oh, well, you lost that ages ago, mate," Ron said teasingly. "It happened around the time you stuck your wand up a troll's nose."

Hermione snorted into her drink, spraying butterbeer all over the table and getting foam on her nose and chin. Harry and Ron both looked at her in surprise and then snickered. She flushed faint pink and wiped her face clean with the sleeve of her coat.

"You should've left it, Hermione," Harry said, holding back another snicker. "You look really good with a beard."

"Oh, shut up, Harry," Hermione responded while Ron roared with laughter.

Harry just smiled innocently and finally took a sip from his butterbeer. It was still quite warm, and felt good sliding down his scratchy throat. However, as soon as it hit his stomach, he was suddenly very nauseated. He could practically feel the butterbeer rolling and bubbling in his stomach. Groaning, he pushed the glass away from him and wrapped his arms around his middle. He was now wishing he'd stopped by Pomfrey before leaving to get an anti-nausea potion.

"You okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes full of concern.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. "My stomach just didn't agree with the butterbeer."

"Do you want to go back to the castle for a potion?"

"No, I'll be okay in a few," Harry responded with a weak smile. "Don't worry."

"Well, alright," Hermione conceded, obviously trying her hardest not to fret despite clearly wanting to. Harry was secretly very grateful for that.

However, as it turned out, he probably should have listened to Hermione. With a sudden flash of blinding light, Harry cried out in panic and recoiled reflexively as if expecting to be hit by some spell. Flashbacks and memories of the battle hit him like a fast moving reel and for a horrifying moment, he felt like he was back there again. He became aware that was calling his name but they sounded far away and his vision was still fuzzy from nearly being blinded.

Grabbing onto the table, Harry focused intently on the feel of the wood beneath his palms. Smooth, cool, real. It was real. He was still in the pub. Reality slowly settled over him and it allowed his frantic mind to calm down. When his vision finally cleared, he saw that it was Hermione, and she was looking at him worriedly. Head spinning with dizziness, Harry looked around for the source of the flash. What he found was worse than a whole horde of Death Eaters. Four reporters were crowding around his table, all shouting questions at him at the same time.

"Mr. Potter! I'm from the Daily Prophet, how about a quick word?"

"Were you thinking of the battle just now, Mr. Potter?"

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter! Over here! Could you share a few words about your defeat of You-Know-Who?"

"How about you Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger? Do you have anything to say about the infamous Battle of Hogwarts?"

"I-uh-"

Harry was feeling a bit dazed and disoriented from the flashing of the cameras and the bombardment of questions. Every time he tried to form words, he felt the contents of his stomach try to rise up in their place. Head pounding and stomach churning, Harry had to will himself not to pass out or throw up. He couldn't think of a worse thing that could possibly happen right then. As usual, it was proven that there was always something worse that could happen. When something warm and wet started dripping down his upper lip, there were several gasps and another round of flashes. He brought a trembling hand up to his face and hurriedly tried to wipe the blood away.

"Alright, back off you, vultures!" Ron yelled angrily, knocking over his seat as he stood up. "He doesn't want to talk to any of you!"

Hermione was grabbing Harry by the shoulders, gently trying to guide him out of his seat. "Come on, Harry."

When Harry tried to stand, however, his legs started to shake and his knees gave way beneath him. Fortunately, Hermione caught him around the waist before he could hit the ground. She held onto him tightly as she maneuvered him away from the forming crowd.

"Mr. Potter! What's wrong? Are you ill? Does it have anything to do with You-Know-Who?"

Harry was vaguely aware of the snapping of more photographs, but he was too dizzy to fully understand what was going on. He just held onto Hermione and did his best not to pass out on her.

"Ron!" Hermione called urgently.

"Right!"

Ron was at Harry's other side in an instant, guiding his arm around his shoulders for support. Both he and Hermione wrapped their arms around his waist and carefully walked him out of the pub. They didn't make it very far before they heard the reporters chasing after them.

"Oh, they just don't quit do they!" Hermione cried in frustration.

Hermione suddenly whipped her wand out and spun around. With an expertly aimed spell, the reporters were knocked back and bound together by a securely tied rope. The more they struggled against the rope, the tighter it became around them. Smiling in satisfaction, Hermione put her wand away and turned back to the boys.

"Hermione, I don't think I can say this enough, but you're bloody brilliant," Ron said in awe.

"We need to be careful not to ever piss Hermione off," Harry said with a weak chuckle.

"That was hardly that impressive," Hermione said, though she was blushing a little.

Hermione took Harry's arm again and placed it around her shoulders. It was slow going, but they eventually made it back to the castle. By the time they got inside, Harry was shaking from the effort of walking such a seemingly long distance. He was coughing violently now, and there were a few times he thought for sure it was going to make him vomit. When he noticed that Ron and Hermione were trying to steer him towards the hospital wing, Harry shook his head frantically.

"No," he groaned. "I don't want to go there. Just take me back to the dorms."

"But..."

"Please?" he said, too tired to argue. "I just want to sleep in my own bed."

Thankfully, Hermione seemed to give in at that. "Alright, Harry."

As they walked through the corridors, Harry stared down at his feet and noticed that he was leaving droplets of blood all along the floor. If he wasn't so tired, he might have been more concerned over the fact that his nosebleeds never lasted this long. They met a few concerned people along the way, but Hermione and Ron expertly quelled their questioning. When they entered the common room, they guided him up the stairs to the boy's dormitory and carefully sat him down on his bed. Harry immediately laid down on his side, where he wrapped his arms around his middle and curled his knees to his chest.

"Here, Harry."

Hermione conjured a handkerchief and pressed it to his nose. It took several more minutes for the bleeding to stop, and when it did, Hermione gently cleaned up his face for him. When she was done, she helped Harry get underneath his blankets and turned on his radio for him. The music helped relax him, and soon enough, Harry felt the worst of the nausea start to pass. Releasing a shaky breath, he uncurled his body from its fetal position.

"This is going to be all over the front page tomorrow, isn't it?" Harry asked hoarsely, his throat raw from coughing.

"I'm afraid so, mate," Ron said sympathetically.

"Well, we don't know that for sure," Hermione offered half-heartedly.

Ron just rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Harry sneezing ends up on the front page these days."

"Well, thank you for your unrelenting optimism, Ron," Hermione sighed before turning back to Harry. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. It's not like they know what's really going on."

"How long do you plan on keeping this from everyone, anyway, Harry?" Ron asked curiously.

"Until I'm dead, hopefully," Harry stated bluntly.

"Don't you think, maybe people deserve to know?" Hermione asked, kneeling beside Harry's bed. "Not everyone, of course, but what about Ginny? Neville? Dean? They're your friends. It wouldn't be fair for them to find out after you've..d-died."

Harry watched as tears brimmed up in Hermione's eyes. All of her walls came crumbling down simultaneously and she suddenly looked stripped bare; vulnerable. Harry understood that completely, having experienced it himself. There was something about speaking it out loud that cemented the realness of it. For so long, they'd pretended that not talking about it meant it wasn't really happening. Sure, they'd mentioned it here and there, but they'd never really treated it for what it was. The time had come where they could no longer deny the inevitable. It sucked, and it hurt, but it was reality.

Reaching out, Harry cupped Hermione's face comfortingly. Her jaw was clenched in a valiant effort not to cry, but Harry could see that it was trembling. He just stroked her cheek as the tears started to fall, one by one until she finally broke down sobbing. Harry slid down to the floor in front of her and held her tightly in his arms as she cried. She had her face pressed into his chest and her hands curled tightly into his jumper, not daring to let go. It broke his heart to see one of the most logical and fearless people he knew fall apart. She was the one who usually knew what to do in a bad situation; she always had a rational explanation or a brilliant solution, yet this time she was just as lost as the rest of them. Resting his chin atop her head, he closed his eyes as his own tears started to slip down his face.

They sat like that for a long while, until Hermione finally stopped crying. As he stroked her hair, Harry pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered and then pulled away. He brushed away a tear from her face and smiled.

Hermione gave him a watery smile in return and wiped at her soggy cheeks with her hands. "I know, it's just...ugh, I can't imagine life without you, Harry!"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise when she practically leaped onto him and pulled him into another crushing hug. She wrapped her arms so tightly around him that he felt air being squeezed from his lungs.

"Well, if you don't let me go, Hermione," Harry wheezed, feeling like his ribs were being crushed. "It's not going to be the cancer that kills me."

Hermione immediately broke away and laughed apologetically. "Sorry, Harry."

"It's okay, I didn't need those ribs anyway," Harry said with a chuckle. He hauled himself back up onto the bed and pulled Hermione with him.

"Well, I know what this situation calls for," Ron announced, after having been quiet almost the entire time.

Harry and Hermione looked to Ron just as he pulled out their Honeyduke's bags and dumped the entire contents out onto Harry's bed. There was so much of it that it very nearly took up the whole bed.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I don't think sweets solve everything, Ron."

"No, but I'd rather have sweets than not have them," Ron responded, jumping onto Harry's bed to join them. "No matter the situation."

"You have a point," Harry laughed, rummaging through the pile and picking out a Chocoball.

"If there's one thing you should know about me, Harry," Ron said while biting off the head of a Chocolate Frog, "it's that I always have a point."

"Yeah, but they're usually idiotic," Hermione said with a grin.

"Not all of them," Ron defended.

"Just most."

Harry was hit in the head with a sherbet ball for that. He just picked it up and popped it into his mouth. The three of them laughed and started working their way through the gargantuan pile. It was actually quite a lot of fun going through the sweets again like it was their first time trying them. The room was filled with bubbles after eating the Drooble's gum, and Ron nearly caught the drapes of Harry's bed on fire after eating a Pepper Imp. Hermione's teeth chattered for several minutes after eating an Ice Mice and there was a Peppermint Toad hopping about in Harry's stomach. They even dared each other to try some of the less favorable sweets, like Blood Pops and Cockroach Clusters. They were starting to regret always daring each other to eat gross things. When the rest of their dorm mates came up to sleep, Hermione just cast a silencing charm around Harry's bed. They laughed, joked and talked throughout the rest of the night.

They finally fell asleep when the sun started coming up. They were curled up together on Harry's bed, sweet wrappers strewn everywhere and bubbles floating lazily about the room. The radio played softly in the background.

Author's Note: This chapter was so hard to write. Like damn, I wasn't sure I'd be able to finish it. Anyway, I'm guessing there's about two chapters left before this story is done. I really appreciate everyone who has read and reviewed so far. It means a lot to me!