Disclaimer: The only character I own is Annessa!

A/N: Sorry about not posting yesterday! I got hooked on watching Educating Yorkshire, and then a new film was put on Netflix that I just had to watch so I neglected you guys!

Just in case anyone was wondering, you can have an allergy to Micropore tape. I have it, it was diagnosed when I was born because my mother was induced three weeks early due to diabetes and I was put in an incubator to sort out my low blood sugar and the arm they stuck the tape on to keep the drip in swelled up.

No new reviews for the previous chapter, but I'm pretty sure more people have Followed and Favourited the story so thank you to them!

Give me any reason to believe

'Cause I swear I'm done here

'Cause I've seen a bigger picture

And I'm looking for some answers

Tell me that it's worth it

'Cause I'm doing all I can to fight it

And I've never been this scared

And my moment's finally here

Time's racing (Please slow down)

I got to find my way out

I'm hopeless (But hoping)

My lungs won't fail me now

'Cause I'm still breathing

Mayday Parade - Still Breathing

"Sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

All that Snape could do was stare down at the redhead in shock as the boy dissolved into tears. That child had almost killed his son? Snape should have felt angry, furious even, but he just couldn't bring himself to raise his voice at the upset boy. Before the summer he wouldn't have so much as hesitated before launching into a lengthy lecture about the stupidity of the entire thing, but Harry had changed him, and he didn't know whether it was for the better. Was it really his right to punish the child? No doubt Molly would lay it on him when they got home anyway, and screen him whenever they visited. Snape still had anger bubbling under the surface, diluted yes, but still there. But was it actually directed at the small redhead? Or at the situation in general?

It was bound to happen eventually, especially in the old hospital. It was idiotic to do it, to lie like he had, but could Snape really blame the boy for something anyone would have done? He knew the answer as soon as the question entered his mind. If it was his Lily, Snape would have stormed into the hospital, illness or not. The whole thing was beyond foolish, and if Harry had died the entire situation would have been completely different, but Harry had lived, had pulled through, and was now in a much better place. They actually seemed to care about his welfare here, so in a way the Weasley child had done them a favour, even if it came at such a high price. "Calm yourself boy, you couldn't have known this would happen." The words only seemed to make the child worse as he kneeled in the remains of that damn snowglobe, both knees torn and bloody, and Snape was at a loss of what to do. Even Molly seemed unsure of whether to comfort or reprimand her son, and Snape couldn't exactly blame her for hesitating. Shaking his head as the boy sniffed loudly, Snape resisted the urge to smack his head against the glass wall. He was in for a long day.

.

Someone was crying. Harry could hear the wounded sound from his spot on the bed, and though the nurse had closed the blinds sometime during his sleep, the distinguishable shapes of at least three people, one that was either extremely short or sitting on the ground, were still visible. Annessa merely shrugged as his questioning gaze, adding another doodle to the already crowed page. The tube of the fluid attached to the PICC Line in her arm seemed to get in the way everytime she turned the page, and Harry could see she was getting frustrated with the whole thing. At least the Hickman Line left his hands free.

"Why do people cry so much on this ward? It kills the vibe."

Harry snorted through his nose, not an easy task with a tube up it, his mouth pulled into as much of a grin as possible with the dreaded respirator blocking taking up most of the his mouth. Annessa never cared that he couldn't answer, or that he wasn't even able to comfort her as she did for him. Ron and Hermione had been good friends when he was at Hogwarts, but neither would come close to understanding the way he felt like Annessa did, she had after all been through it before. Of course had many other of the patients she had described in great lengths, yet he didn't exactly want to see them, let alone get to know them, he'd much rather just stay with Annessa. She always knew how to lighten the mood, and make him feel comfortable when nobody else could. It almost made the infection worth it, if he hadn't become really ill he never would have met her. She smiled back, rolling her eyes as an argument broke out in the corridor over what sounded like a snowglobe. At least he could never say the hospital was dull.

.

Ron curled up on his bed, his head buried beneath his pillow as he tried to block out the images of his bestmate lying in that hospital bed. He had done that to Harry, he had made him so sick, and there was nothing he could do to help. Even the stupid snowglobe was broken beyond muggle repair, and the cleaner had swept it up with a disgruntled look, which made Ron cringe when he thought of how he reacted to her. His mum had confiscated his broom, and banned him from leaving the house for two weeks, but he didn't care. He deserved it for doing what he did, for almost killing Harry. She had said he wasn't confined to his room, but he couldn't face everybody, not now. His mum would tell them what he had done, and then they'd all hate him. A voice called to him from the floor below, but he didn't answer it, hoping they would just go away. No such luck. Footsteps thundered up his stairs, maybe the twins were coming to beat him up for what he did? Closing his eyes, he chocked back another sob, stilling his movements to give the intruders the illusion he was asleep. He didn't want the twins, or his mum for that matter. He wanted Harry.

.

It was whispering that woke him, a sort of hurried sound that filled his heart with dread, what was going on? Harry blinked tiredly at the blurry figures, rubbing at his eyes. The nurses always took his glasses off, and it was beginning to get annoying. He liked to see, and it wasn't like he could roll over and break them in his sleep. The whispering stopped abruptly when the door swished open, revealing another blurred person.

"What happened to him? Why didn't you tell us he was moved? We had to hear it from Molly!"

McGonagall? What was she doing there? And why did she feel the need to shout? Coughing as the tube shifted again, he reached out blindly for his glasses, tangling his arm in the tubes coming from the Hickman Line. A darkened hand reached over him and gently brought the room into focus, rubbing at his bald head before reluctantly breaking contact.

"I didn't realise I needed to report everything to you, and if you haven't noticed I've got more important things to do!"

Did they have to argue so much? It was all his his fault, Harry was the cause of their heated discussion, and it made him feel worse than ever. He was always upsetting people. When had Mrs Weasley come by? He couldn't remember her stopping, but then again he couldn't remember much of what happened since he'd arrived, painkillers work wonders for making you forget.

"I knew it was a bad idea letting him stay with you! You clearly can't care for him properly! You should've screened everyone that came in contact with him!"

Harry's heart sped up at the thought of being taken away from his professor, didn't the woman understand that it wasn't the man's fault. The machine protested wildly, beeping angrily at the interruption, at least he was still breathing on his own. Traitor tears dropped from his eyes, sliding down his cheeks and onto the blanket. They couldn't take him away, it wasn't Snape's fault! A hand clutched his, but he didn't dare look who it was for fear of it being McGonagall, he never wanted to see her again.

"It's okay Harry, I'm not going anywhere, Dumbledore wouldn't do that to you."

He squeezed tightly at his only lifeline, his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. A nurse shooed the woman from the room, muttering about interfering old biddies, and even Snape had quietly laughed at that, the sound giving Harry a little joy, if only briefly. Snape had said it would be okay. Snape had said he wouldn't leave. But could he really trust him? Or would it all crash down as it always did? After all who could ever want someone as pathetic as Harry? Who could ever love him? Especially they way he was now. Laying in the semi-dark room with only his guardian to cling to, he tried to keep the thoughts at bay. Of course nobody would ever love him. He was Harry Potter. He was a freak. And he was almost certainly going to die.

A/N: I hope you liked it! Leave a review to let me know what you thought :)

The next chapter will be up either tomorrow or monday

Seeya soon, nicholosaur :)