He couldn't understand it. It just didn't make any sense; it wasn't possible. Logically, he knew that things like this could happen and did happen, but he'd never thought it would happen to him. He was the Boy Who Lived; he was a legend.
"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?"
He blinked and looked up at Hermione's concerned face. He tried to think of something to say, but the words died on his lips. What was there to say?
"Is there something you can do?" That was a good thing to say, a great thing to ask.
Hermione hesitated, a look of unbearable pity crossing her pretty features. "I-I'm sorry, Harry-"
"There must be something!"
She flinched at his words, looking away from his blazing green eyes for a moment so that she could gather her strength. Why did everyone always leave these things up to her? It wasn't fair, she didn't want to have to tell her best friend that he was….
"I'm sorry, Harry," she repeated, looking back at him. "I've done all the research, asked all the healers, asked Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, even Snape, but… there's no cure."
"But we're wizards! We can do anything, cure anything!"
"Not this."
The quiet finality of her voice finally slashed through the fog in Harry's mind and he slumped back against the pillows, one arm thrown across his eyes. He still couldn't believe it, his mind refused to acknowledge just what was happening.
"Do you… do you know who it was?"
Harry would have glared at her, if he'd had the strength, but he really couldn't be bothered. Of course he did, there was only one person, had ever only been one person. But she didn't know that, and neither did everyone else. The rumours of his sex life had grown more with each year until the list of his supposed 'conquests' had reached triple figures. But it was all a lie, there had only ever been one, just one.
And he supposed that was part of why his brain was having such difficulty with accepting the reality of his situation. Wasn't this only supposed to happen to people who slept around? Wasn't this supposed to happen to people who didn't care about their health? He hadn't slept around and he had cared, but the last time, they'd been so frantic and frenzied…. No, he'd been so frantic and frenzied. Draco had tried to say no, tried to resist, but he'd been so impatient, he'd just wanted to feel his lover, run his hands over that toned chest, down his taut stomach….
Stupid, so fucking stupid. All those months of being careful, of using protection, and now it was all moot point because he had… he was… It had only been one fucking time! He wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs, shout it to the world and to the heavens that it had only been one time, just one fucking moment of unprotected sex. But once had been enough, hadn't it? Enough to infect him, to ruin his life, to give him…
"Harry? Are you alright?"
He wanted to laugh, shout at her that no he was fucking not alright, how could he possibly be alright when she'd just told him that he had… when she'd just told him what she had?
"He never told me," he said quietly, moving his arm away from his eyes so that he could look at her. "Why? Why didn't he tell me? All these months, all the times we've been together, and he never once told me…. It was my fault, that last time, I admit that, but…. He knew, what he'd done, and he didn't tell me. I asked him, Hermione! I asked him why the hell wouldn't my bruises fade? And he didn't fucking say anything! He should have told me when we first got together but for him to not tell me when he knew what he'd done to me…"
"I'm sorry, Harry."
Harry sat up and grabbed at her shoulders, pulling her close to him. "Are you sure there's not a cure? I don't care how hard it is, how difficult or dangerous, there has to be a cure!"
Tears sparkled in Hermione's soft brown eyes and her lower lip trembled. "I'm so sorry, Harry. But there's no cure for AIDS."
