Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to, I do not own Harry Potter

I did finish writing this on Wednesday but I've been super busy with revising and I only got back from a field craft weekend camp with cadets today. So armed with a bruise on my right knee, matching blisters on either heel from a five mile walk, friction burn on my left shoulder from where the sling of the rifle rubbed, an extremely sore patch on my right shoulder where the Bergen (which was pretty heavy and made me feel like a turtle, luckily we only had to wear them for about ten minutes before they were stored on a trailer to be collected at the end point of our walk) squished the buckles of my webbing against me, and a stomach full of ration pack food (let's just say it's not the most pleasant food in the world), I'm ready to post this chapter!

Study leave officially started last Tuesday, and my first exam was last Friday! So I have over two weeks of freedom before my Higher English exam so I'll be able to update practically every day! :)

I feel as though I must put a warning in case anyone gets offended. Ron's paragraphs (which I've clearly marked) deal with issues surrounding Eating Disorders. It's more to do with his feelings but I thought I'd best say something just in case.

I would like to thank Guest for reviewing! In response to your question, I'm just going to say that the pace will start picking up so you will see soon enough what happens :)

I'd also like to thank Stacey's Universe for your support of the story! People like you are the reason I continue writing this story! Keep being awesome! :D

If anyone has any suggestions I'd be happy to hear them and try and intergrate them into the story! Don't be shy people ;)


Cracks in the concrete

Breaking the ground beneath your feet

Always threatening

The stars are exploding

All that you know is crumbling

You cry yourself to sleep

But I can't save you now

I can't save you now

I can't save you now

I don't know how

Tyrone Wells - I Can't Save You Now


*(RON ALERT)*

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Ron's eyes fluttered open at the familiar sound, had he somehow made it to the hospital? The last thing he remembered was the park, and then... Jolting up right, he winced at the pain shooting through his head, panic swirling through his body. He shouldn't be in the hospital! He wasn't sick! Turning his attention to the bag of fluid connected to his arm, he narrowed his eyes at the label. Glucose? They were dripping poison into him?! Reaching towards the offending tube, he tugged it from his arm, ignoring the pain that accomponied the movement. Nobody was going to fill his body with that toxic sugary substance! He didn't want it! He didn't need it!

"Ronald Weasley just what exactly do you think you are playing at?!"

Training his glare on his mother, he folded his arms tightly across his chest, away from anyones reach. "I want to go home!" The demand flew from his mouth with anger, a lot louder than either of them expected. A nearby nurse looked his way, her lips pursed in a disapproving line, her and Snape would have gotten along nicely. "I don't need this!" He motioned towards the abandoned drip, huddling as far away from it as possible, certain the calories would somehow seep into his bloodstream if the liquid touched his skin. "I'm not sick!" The more he said it, the more his mother's shoulders slumped, the more the light disappeared from her eyes. None of it mattered to Ron though, all he cared about was getting out of there without them trying to fatten him up like a Christmas turkey. It was his right to control when and what he ate, not their's! And he would make sure they knew it! Nobody was going to take it away from him! Not one living soul!

.

Throughout the entire time Harry had been cooped up in the hospital, Snape had learned one solid thing. The boy was pretty much as predictable as the seasons when it came to finding where he had disappeared to. A simple trip up to Elephant ward was all it took, and Snape's heart broke at the sight of his boy curled up beside Annessa, their hands entwined. Neither were sleeping, that much he could tell, their breathing was much too shallow. Yet no words were being transferred, reminding Snape of the relationship he once shared with Lily. How things had changed since back then. Running a hand through the mess of hair that had taken over his head, he thought about berating the boy for breaking the rules, the idea fleeing from his mind as Harry looked up at Annessa with the smile that was all too rare these days.

How would they cope when that girl was torn from them? The child had become like a daughter to Snape, as much a part of the family as Harry was. Losing her would be worse than when he lost his own parents, the kids mattered to him more than anything else in the world. He could just imagine Dumbledore's twinkling eyes if he admitted that, not that he ever would.

"Hows he holding up?"

Glancing up, he offered the doctor a small shrug, tearing himself away from the children to face the man properly. "In all honesty I couldn't tell you, he's been pretty distant ever since he found out about the tumours." It made him feel like a lousy father, admitting that piece of information, but at the same time it felt as though a weight had been lifted off his chest.

"I know exactly how you feel, but trust me it will get better, just give it time."

Time. That appeared to be the answer to everything. But just how much time did Harry really have? Annessa had proven that even the patients with the brightest outcomes can fall hard and fast, crushing the hopes and dreams of everyone around them. Would Harry be next? Snape couldn't bear to just wait around and see. He wanted to do something, anything. If only he could swap places with the teenager, fight some of the battle for him. If only he could make him feel better. If only.

.

What was it with people wanting him to predict the future? Doctor Whittker may have saved countless lives in his career as a neurologist, but that didn't make a miracle worker, it didn't make psychic. There was just no way of knowing whether a child would live, whether the treatment would work. In the end it was simply up to the patient. If their body didn't want to fight, then there wasn't a medicine in the world that could help it. Parents didn't seem to understand that, and how could they? It seemed like an awful lot to put on the shoulders of a child, their child. Any explanation blew straight over their heads, and of course when the treatment failed it was the doctor they turned to with anger and confusion, it was the doctor they resented the most.

Doctor Whittker wished with every bone in his body that there was some kind of magical cure that would make it all better. But there wasn't. So everyday he would go through the same routine with his patients, checking vitals and making sure they were comfortable while diverting any of the parents or carers questions until he could find the perfect answer to put their minds at ease.

It wasn't an easy task, but then again nobody said it would be. He had taken it with the sole purpose to help those whose world had just been ripped apart. Working with children and teenagers was so much more rewarding than adults. They barely ever complained about the unfairness of it all, always eager to please. Sure the casualties were always so much greater, and no matter how many you save there is always those few you couldn't. Most said he was crazy to actually enjoy his job, but it was the fleeting moments when a patient began to get better, when a parent would kiss his face and thank him over and over again, that made it all worth while. Yes sometimes he did hate what he did, who didn't? But he wouldn't trade it for the world. Because what he did actually mattered. What he did made a difference. What he did felt right.

.

Remus Lupin was not a man who startled easily. All throughout his high school career nobody had ever been able to scare him. But that night, staring out into the starless sky, he felt as though the entire world was pushing down on him. His cub was somewhere nearby, locked up in a hospital room fighting for his life, and he couldn't even be there to comfort him. The mere thought of coming face to face with what was left of the boy he used to know sent chills down his spine. Did that make him a coward? Probably. Even the dungeon bat had more guts than him, though he knew James would be turning in his grave at Severus becoming a father to the child.

Closing his eyes against the world, he thought of his friend, a man that had given his life for his wife and son. Lupin would never have that courage, not if he couldn't even step foot inside a muggle hospital. Maybe that was why Harry had found it so difficult to confide in him that something was going on at the Dursley's? He clearly knew that Lupin wouldn't be able to help, too much of a coward to fight.

"You mustn't blame yourself."

Of course Dumbledore would want to interfere with his moping! Was there nothing that man would leave alone? Shaking his head, Lupin stayed facing outwards, the cool breeze washing over his face. He didn't deserve the comfort that the old man offered. Harry had grown up without it, so why should a grown man need it? No, he wouldn't let anyone change his mind. The blame laid squarely on his shoulders. And nobody could change that.

.

*(RON ALERT)*

"You're just making it harder on yourself."

The redheaded boy kept his glare trained on the nurse by the door, his hand twisting the tube around his arm, preventing the much needed nutrients from entering his body. It hurt, like hell, but there was no way on earth Ron was going to allow them to poison him with the mixture. He wasn't going to die if he didn't get them, so what was all the fuss about? His arm had begun to throb painfully about an hour ago, just as the nurse predicted it would. She was giving him that condescending smile that he hated so much, and if he wasn't so preoccupied in his current task, he would definitely have punched her square in the face. Adults always overstepped their boundaries.

"You need it kid, you'll die without it."

Die? Ron wasn't dying. Maybe she was getting him mixed up with Harry? That had to be it. Everybody cared more about Harry than Ron. Even his own mother would rather have the Boy-Who-Lived as a son. "I'm perfectly fine thank you! Now let me go home!" To tell the truth he didn't even want to go home. Home was where his siblings ran riot, shouting and laughing, and his parents ignored him. Home was much too cheerful and happy. But he would definitely take that instead of the hospital any day. He wasn't even sick! Was this payback for running from the therapist? If so his mother had a sick sense of humour.

"Perfectly fine? You're acting like a bratty two year old!"

He was not! Glaring more fiercely at the woman, he flexed his fingers slightly, wincing as pain shot through his hand. Moving was definitely not a good idea. He'd just have to stay still until his mother came back to pick him up. That would be easy enough to do, right? Mind made up, he tightened his grip on the rubber tube. Nobody was going to take away his control. Not without a fight.


A/N: Another chapter done and dusted! I have absolutely nothing going on tomorrow so I'll be able to write another chapter when I decide to rise from my pit of blankets ;)

Leave a review before you disappear! I love finding out what you guys think of the way the story is progressing! It doesn't matter if you love it, or hate it, or you're somewhere in between! Any thing that can help me make it better is welcomed with open arms :)

I will see you all very soon, nicholosaur :)