Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
All too soon for Bill, Charlie, and Anahid, the holidays drew to a close. Bags were packed, farewells said, and floo powder taken in hand.
The train ride back to Hogwarts was similar to the one they had taken only a short time before. They sat in a compartment at the rare of the train. Charlie left to find his friends, people who would talk Quidditch with him. Bill didn't leave though, instead he sat in the seat opposite Anahid's, writing in a leather bound book with a self-inking quill, and occasionally glancing across at Anahid, who had made it up to chapter twenty-eight of 'A Detailed History of Summoning Charms.' She sat reading, twisting the silver band that enclosed the base of the third finger of her right hand.
"Is it too tight?" he asked finally, an hour into their journey.
"Hmm, oh no." She looked across at him, "Just something to fidget with I guess." Bill nodded and went back to writing. "What are you doing?" she asked a few minutes later. "Don't tell me Bill Weasley is actually doing homework."
"No," he replied. "I'm writing in my journal."
"The Head Boy has a diary?" Anahid asked, teasing.
"No," he frowned at her. "It's a journal. Only twelve year old girls have diaries."
"Of course 'journal' makes it sound so much more manly." He scowled at her. "Don't you have some Head Boy duties to do?"
"You're just trying to get rid of me."
"Oh dear, you mean I'm that transparent?"
Bill made a show of putting the small book into the pocket of his robes before he left; Anahid just rolled her eyes at him. Marvelling in being alone, truly alone, for the first time in weeks, Anahid was surprised to find it wasn't as comforting as it had once been.
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Bill returned from his inspection of the other compartments, and the fulfilment of his Head Boy duties, to find Anahid curled up and fast asleep. Her book, closed, in one hand, dangerously close to slipping to the floor. Carefully he took it out of her loose grip, and placed it in a safe position at the end of her seat.
Shortly after, the snack trolley came to the compartment door, and Bill, after selecting some lunch for himself and being loathe to disturb Anahid, discovered he didn't know her as completely as he thought. Standing, inspecting the wide range of goods the trolley held, he had no idea what she normally chose, or even what she liked. Finally, he went with the safe choices of a cauldron cake, a pumpkin pastry, and a chocolate frog.
When she woke, Anahid turned down only the frog; saying she couldn't eat something that was still moving. She thanked him for the other food; her offer to repay him for it was declined.
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Back at Hogwarts, they quickly slipped back into their old routine. But life wasn't as idyllic as it first appeared. All relationships have rough points, and theirs was about to hit one hell of a rough patch.
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With the pressure of knowing the year was half over, and exams only six months away, both Bill and Anahid were on edge when classes resumed. Both had been working hard when everything exploded in late February, and were tired and grumpy as many people get in the face of approaching exams and while waiting for winter to end. Given how their friendship had started it was fitting that the event that lit the fuse occurred late one night in the library.
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It was Friday night and Anahid had forgotten to do one of those things that she never quite explained to Bill. She was more tired than usual, and was struggling to pay attention to what Bill was telling her; which made perfect sense, if you knew what it was she had forgotten to do.
Madam Pomfrey found the two of them there, Bill doing most of the talking, and Anahid struggling to follow the conversation. "There you are dear, I thought I'd find you here." She said as she walked across to where they were sitting.
"Madam Pomfrey?" Anahid turned to look at her, "what…oh no, I forgot, I'm sorry, I was…and…I just forgot." Bill didn't understand the total panic that enveloped her.
"Don't worry dear, you can come down now and we'll take care of it. It's not the first time I've tracked you down to here, and I doubt it'll be the last." Madam Pomfrey said, trying to soothe her. Anahid just nodded and stood to leave immediately.
"Wait Anahid, you're forgetting your bag." Bill handed the offending object to her. "What's this all about anyway?"
"Hmm," she looked back at him as if she had just woken from a dream. "Oh, nothing, just a checkup, you know, with all the end of season colds and things out and about. I'll see you in the morning."
With that she positively fled the room, and for the first time Bill felt for sure she wasn't telling him the truth, or was at least hiding it in ambiguity.
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The next morning he called into the Hospital Wing on his way to breakfast, to see if Anahid was still there.
"Yes, she's still here," Madam Pomfrey told him. "But she's not up to seeing visitors."
Not up to seeing visitors after only a checkup? Bill was very suspicious now.
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Anahid woke up on the Hospital Wing that afternoon, Saturday, to find Bill sitting beside her bed. "We have to stop meeting like this." She said with a weak smile.
Bill didn't smile back. "Explain." He said coolly.
"Explain what?" she asked, wincing at his tone, while levering herself to sit up in the bed.
"Explain why last night Madam Pomfrey came looking for you for a 'checkup,' something she apparently does quite often. Explain how, you came here for a checkup, but this morning Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me in because you 'weren't up to visitors.'" He had stood up at the start of his speech, and paced the floor. Now he stood, hands resting on the foot of her bed, glaring at her.
"I can't." She said weakly.
Bill couldn't believe it, he'd expected a simple logical explanation delivered in a voice, calm and quiet, that made him feel ashamed for losing control. "Why not?" he asked, voice deathly quiet.
"I just, can't." She stared at her hands resting in her lap, unable to look at him.
"I see, is that because you don't know, or because you just don't feel like telling me." Anahid opened her mouth to answer but Bill talked right over her. "No, don't bother, I think I know which it is." He stalked out of the room, leaving her fighting back tears.
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Girls throughout the school rejoiced at what appeared to be the end of the Head Boy's association with 'that Black girl.' Anahid seemed to be coping, but then she had learned to hide her emotions and feelings long ago.
Charlie was amazed at the change between Anahid and Bill. In the two months since Christmas he'd sought Anahid out occasionally, seeking to get to know this good friend of Bill's better. Now, after the end of the friendship, he could see the pain in her eyes.
Bill refused to talk about her, or listen to anyone else talk about her. He stormed away whenever the ending of the friendship was mentioned.
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Before Charlie could talk to Anahid about it though, her life took another turn for the worst. During dinner, barely a week after the incident in the Hospital Wing, Professor McGonagall approached her at the Ravenclaw table, and led her away. As soon as the doors had closed behind her whispers broke out around the hall. Charlie glanced at Bill; he was steadfastly gazing at his plate, ignoring everyone around him.
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Professor McGonagall led Anahid to Professor Dumbledore's office. Following the Deputy Headmistress into the room, Anahid found that already seated there were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Flitwick, and Madam Pomfrey. Confused, and scared, she took the seat Professor Dumbledore gestured to.
"Now Anahid, I'm afraid I have some bad news." Professor Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of him and looked across at her through his half-moon spectacles. "Your father passed away this morning."
Anahid stared at him in shock, surprised by the news, but surprised more by the sharp pain that had started in her chest and coursed through the rest of her being.
The Professor looked at her sadly as he continued. "He left you his entire estate, and I'm going to recommend to the Ministry that, despite you being underage, you not be sent to a muggle orphanage during the holidays."
Anahid was barely listening to him. She saw his lips move, and heard the words, but couldn't comprehend any of it. He was still talking when she stood and walked out of the room, Madam Pomfrey made to follow, but Professor Dumbledore stooped her.
"Leave her be." He said softly, "She has a lot to deal with right now."
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She didn't realise she was crying until the salty liquid ran over her lips. She had walked mindlessly after leaving the office, somehow coming to be at the lakeside. She collapsed onto her knees then, ignoring the chill of the ground like she ignored the bite of the wind on her cloakless shoulders. She broke down sobbing, drawing in huge gulps of air, only to choke them out again. The sky darkened but, face in hands, Anahid didn't notice. It had been overcast all day, and with nightfall came the rain, closer to solid than liquid, the chill drops pounded the ground, soaking everything, Anahid included. She ignored the rain as she ignored the icy ground, or the biting wind, not consciously trying to outdo it, but surrounded in a pain-filled abyss, totally unaware.
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She wasn't sure what happened next, how she came to wake in the Hospital Wing four days later after a run in with Hypothermia. Madam Pomfrey scolded her for being so careless, but the lecture had no heart to it. The Nurse seemed more relieved that Anahid was still alive. Anahid, still in her own world, managed to nod along with her. Not even a redheaded visitor cheered her up.
Charlie visited on the day after Anahid woke. "What were you thinking?" he admonished her. "Out there like that, you could have died Ana."
Anahid stared at him blankly. "So?" she asked finally.
"So? So what do you think that would have done to the rest of us, your friends? What were you thinking Ana?"
Again that blank look followed eventually by an answer in that dead, emotionless voice. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." A pause then, "I don't have any friends anyway."
"No friends? What about me, Bill."
"You only talk to me because Bill did. He won't talk to me because I can't tell him something." She drew in a shuddering breath. "The one person who was supposed to like me, no matter what, didn't. And now he's gone. Gone. And it hurts so much and I don't know why." Emotion finally crept into her voice and the depth of despair held in it shocked Charlie.
"Your Dad?" he asked quietly.
Anahid nodded, biting the knuckles of one hand in an effort to stifle her sobs. Charlie reached out and pulled her to him, holding her there until she had cried herself to sleep. What he did after leaving the Hospital Wing was to start one of the biggest arguments the eldest Weasley brothers had ever had.
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Encountering Bill in a hallway, Charlie dragged him into an empty classroom and demanded an explanation about the events causing the breakdown of Bill's friendship with Anahid. Much yelling occurred before he got the answers he was after, and they didn't help him as much as he had hoped.
It was clear to Charlie that the only person to get Anahid to open up and heal many of the wounds that had plagued her for years was Bill. But in order for Bill to help her this time, Charlie had to resurrect their friendship. And the only way it seemed he could do that was to confront a grief stricken girl about a secret she couldn't bring herself to share with a person who had quite probably been her closest friend. He had no idea how he was going to do it.
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Anahid was kept in the Hospital Wing for another week. When she was finally let out the first person to track her down was Charlie. It had taken most of the week for him to convince himself that the conversation he had to have with her would be good for her in the long run. He had also decided that it would be best if it took place away from Madam Pomfrey's sharp gaze. Anahid didn't resist as he led her out of the library and into an empty classroom.
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Bill was angry. He was angry with Charlie for bringing up something he had tried so hard to forget. He was angrier with himself for being a pig-headed prat. He should have gone and talked to her in the Hospital Wing, her dad had died, and he should have helped her with it. He was her friend after all. Never the less, he couldn't forgive her for keeping from him something that was obviously important. Giving himself a shake, he decided to take the first step and prove she could depend on him.
```*```*```*```
Headed for the library, he was looking for Anahid after all, he was surprised when she bumped right into him as she stormed out of a classroom.
"Sorry," he apologised, backing off slightly. "Are you ok?" he asked, peering into her face, seeing the anger that flashed in her eyes.
"That brother of yours," she raged, then the anger passed and her shoulders slumped. Bill was startled to find himself staring into eyes so completely consumed with grief and pain. "I'm fine. Excuse me."
She made to step around him, but he caught her arm, "Anahid wait." She stopped, but didn't look at him, instead facing down the hall. "I'm sorry, for yelling, for not being there, for everything."
"It's not your fault." She said softly, "You deserved to know, but I couldn't do that to you Bill."
"Do what? I want to help you Anahid, you have to let me."
She turned to look up at him, "Can this wait Bill?" she asked finally. "I'm tired, I promise to talk about this later, but right now, I'm just so tired."
He nodded and wrapped his arms around her. Neither saw Charlie slip out of the classroom behind them.
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Bill walked her back to the Ravenclaw common room that night, and every other night for sometime. The next day was Saturday, and Bill somehow managed to get permission for him and Anahid to spend the day in Hogsmeade.
Sitting in the Three Broomsticks, they talked. Slowly Anahid started to smile again, and after consuming copious amounts of Butterbeer, they made their way back to the school.
Neither had mentioned what had happened in the Hospital Wing the month before, or the cause of it. Anahid was happy having her friend back and didn't want to jeopardise that. Bill was too scared to push the obviously still unstable girl.
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Anahid slipped away from dinner early that evening. When Bill checked for her in the library she wasn't there, and disappointed, he returned to his dormitory.
Opening the door, he was greeted by an owl, carrying a rather large package, pecking at his window. He let the bird in, and removed the package, recognising Anahid's handwriting on the address. Curious, he untied the string binding it, and opened out the brown paper. Enclosed was a book, the title on the spine reading 'Degenero Disease, the slow killer.' Tucked into the front cover was a brief note from Anahid, simply reading
Bill,
One thing I've learnt lately is that I need to trust more, so that's what I'm doing now. Read this, when you're finished we'll discuss the argument we had last month.
Anahid
P.S. Whatever you decide to do after reading this book I accept, but please, no pity.
Bill stayed up late that night, reading the dog-eared pages of the obviously well read book. Amazed both at how hard Anahid must have worked to hide her condition, and how terrible the disease was.
What struck him first was its inconsistency, someone could be diagnosed with it and live to one hundred and twenty, or they could die at thirty. He had a feeling Anahid wouldn't be one of the former.
Then there were the ways the disease showed itself, shaking hands, failing eyesight, loss of the ability to walk, possible memory loss, as well as other less obvious signs. He couldn't recall Anahid suffering from any of these yet, and for a while he felt hope. That was dashed as he read on.
'This disease is incurable and always fatal. It is very rare, occurring only in wizards or witches, and never in muggles. It is believed to affect one in ten thousand wizards, and is more likely to affect those of pureblood than a muggle-born. However, there have been so few reported cases that these statistics could be a false representation of what is actually occurring. There is no known cure for this disease, and the lack of demand means there is little research being undertaken to find one.'
Sitting on his bed, enclosed by scarlet curtains, Bill Weasley wept.
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He caught up with her in the library, the next day. He had slept fitfully, haunted by nightmares, and was late getting organised that morning. Setting the book down on the table in front of her and pulling out a chair, he sat down.
She held up a hand to stop him speaking. Finishing her page, she closed the book she had been reading; getting up, she placed it back on its shelf. "Let's take a walk." She said, picking up the book from where he had placed it on the table.
He followed her, and they walked in companionable silence until they had left the castle behind and were strolling around the lake edge.
Finally Bill spoke. "You were afraid to tell me." It wasn't quite a question.
"Yes, I was scared of…of how you'd react I guess." She turned to look at him. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to be friends any more, or that you would pity me."
Five steps along the path Anahid stopped and turned around, Bill was still standing where he had been when she had finished talking. "You thought I would stop being friends with you?" he asked, shocked.
Anahid walked back to stand in front of him. "You have to understand, the last seven months have been the most surreal of my life. After we became friends, I didn't want to do anything to jeopardise that, and the last thing I wanted was for you to pity me for this. After the events of the last couple of weeks though, I decided I didn't really have anything to lose, life really is to short." Tears welled up in her eyes from the ever-present pain that had taken up residence in her chest.
"What's so bad about pity?" he asked.
"Pity is the worst thing you can feel for someone, I'd rather people hated me than pitied me."
They began walking again.
"I read that book last night."
"I figured you had."
"Can I ask you, you know…"
"About it?" she looked across at him.
"Yeah."
"What do you want to know?"
He took a deep breath, and kept his eyes focused on the path as he spoke. "Well, the book, it listed the symptoms, and I haven't seen you suffering from any of them. So does that mean it's not very advanced, I mean, you could still have a hundred years left, couldn't you?" he looked across at her anxiously.
Anahid stared forward, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her stomach. "No." She said quietly.
Bill's face fell, "I was afraid of that. But why not? Your hands don't even shake yet." He grasped hold of the hands in question, forcing her to stop walking and face him.
"You just can't see them." She said, pulling one hand out of his grasp, and brushed a lock of hair off his face.
"I don't understand."
"There's a potion," she explained. "It suppresses the symptoms, until the disease builds up an immunity anyway." She sighed, "That's why I go to see Madam Pomfrey once a month."
"What happens when it builds up an immunity?" Bill asked, "And how long until it does?"
"The symptoms show through, I don't know how long it'll take for the resistance to build, it depends on how fast the severity of the disease increases. You have to understand Bill; the potion does nothing to stop the disease itself. It's progressing just as quickly as if I wasn't taking the potion, you just can't tell." Bill wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Please don't pity me, that's the only thing I couldn't handle."
"Don't worry," he said gently, "I don't think pitying you would be good for my health."
Anahid laughed, which only caused her tears to fall faster. Her laughter turned to sobs and she buried her face in his shoulder. Bill wrapped his arms around her, and blinked back his own tears.
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Again they slipped back into their old routine, except for a couple of changes. Firstly Bill insisted Anahid be in bed by ten pm, at the latest, which meant she had to leave the library by half past nine. Secondly, Bill went with her a week later for her monthly checkup with Madam Pomfrey.
He watched, and held Anahid's hand, as blood was taken, while Madam Pomfrey tested it, and then made up a potion strong enough to combat the next month's symptoms. There could be some unpleasant side effects from taking the potion, as the disease in her body rebelled against the drugs that would dull its impact, for the time being at least; so Madam Pomfrey always gave Anahid a sleeping potion as well. For the next four visits Anahid fell asleep with her hand clasped in Bill's larger, rougher one.
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The spring term passed by quickly, too quickly for the fifth and seventh years who had O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s at the end of the year. Bill decided to stay at Hogwarts over the Easter break, and he and Anahid spent much of their time studying.
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It was when they were taking a walk around the lake, on a study break, that Anahid asked about his plans for the next year.
"I'm not sure," he replied. "It depends on my N.E.W.T. results of course. I heard Gringotts is looking for more curse breakers, that sounds interesting. But it would mean I'd probably be working on the continent, or maybe even Egypt, so I might try for the Academy, be an Auror."
Anahid looked at him. "I know you're not thinking of passing on the curse breakers just because of me. I'm not just going to drop dead one day, it'll take much longer than that."
"I just don't want you to be alone, lonely." He sighed.
"I'll have Remus, and Charlie, until he goes of to play Quidditch or whatever, and there's the rest of your family at the Burrow. Don't worry about me, I was fine before I met you, I'll be fine after you're gone." She watched the ripples in the lake surface hit the shore.
"I'm allowed to care."
"Just don't too much," she whispered. He didn't hear her.
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All of a sudden Exam week was upon them. The castle was filled with anxious students certain they would, or had, failed a particular exam. Anahid was sitting every subject except Divination and Muggle Studies, Bill had a slightly different subject list, seventh-years took a variety of more specialised courses.
Anahid had arranged revision sessions for the first and second years, something that kept her busy for a month of so before exams, and took up all of her free moments during the week itself. She had very little time to stress about her own exams and, she realised later, she spent more time worrying about Bills' exams than her own.
She didn't see much of Bill that week, or the weeks leading up to it. Like everyone else he was studying. Though not his usual calm and relaxed self, he wasn't pushing it like some. Only his continued threat to take 100 points off Ravenclaw had Anahid in bed by ten. She wasn't sure if he would find out if she continued to study in the common room, but she wasn't prepared to try her luck.
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Exams finished and there was a week of lazing in the sun before results were announced. Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw to secure the Quidditch Cup, and looked set to get the House Trophy as well. The weather was fine, warm and sunny, and Anahid was granted permission by the Ministry to stay at Orion Manor, despite being underage, and avoided a muggle orphanage. All in all it was the perfect end to a very strange year, which is why it will come as no surprise that there was a kink in the sails. It wasn't about to be smooth sailing just yet.
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Exam results came back, and Anahid got all of her O.W.L.s, Bill all his N.E.W.T.s, and Charlie and the first and second years Anahid had tutored all did very well. The kink occurred after that, and after the leaving ceremony where Gryffindor was awarded the House Trophy. Even after the train ride back to King's Cross, during which Anahid quite firmly informed Bill that if he thought she was going to spend all of her time writing him letters, he was very much mistaken.
"I won't have us writing pages and pages to each other about nothing, thinking we're as good friends as ever. Only to meet up and discover we have nothing to say to each other." She told him, Bill had nodded and the two had lapsed back into silence.
No, the kink occurred after the train had stopped and everyone had unloaded themselves, and their trunks. Anahid and Bill had stood a little distance away from Charlie and Mr Weasley, and said goodbye. Anahid had invited him, and the rest of the family to the Manor, and Bill had invited her to come to the Burrow whenever she wanted. That's when it happened, what Charlie had been waiting for since Christmas, Bill kissed her. A brief, chaste pressing of his lips against hers, but it was enough to put a heck of a kink in Anahid's sails.
You see, Anahid liked Bill, loved him even if she was being honest with herself, but then she loved Charlie and Remus too. But she loved them as brothers, Bill she loved nothing like a brother. And that kiss, so different from the quick peck Charlie had given her cheek, suggested in no uncertain terms that he felt the same way about here. Which was a problem, because Bill would live to 150 easily, Anahid would be lucky to see twenty.
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AN: Please R&R, any comments are appreciated. The next chapter will be up soon, where in friends leave, mistakes are made, and health deteriorates.