Disclaimer: I don't own anything. (Wish I did, but I don't.)

Why, Hello my wonderful readers and reviewers! How have you been? I was actually going to update earlier, but I've been out of town. But now I'm home, and updating just for you entertainment.

To the reviewers, I so loved reading what you all had to say. Thanks for the reviews, and I am glad you're enjoying the story so far. For those interested, I have a yahoo group that you might want to try. I only have five other members so far, so I'm looking for those who may be interested. The site is groups(dot)yahoo(dot)com(slash)group(slash)twilightauthor488. So, if you're interested, go ahead and try it out.

Well, enough delays. On with the show! Don't forget to read/review.

Chapter 18: Dying Isn't So Bad

"He's….shh!...Potr.…" the voices were garbled. His head was swimming, and he dared not open his eyes. And yet, something in the back of his mind told him to wake up. Something he dared not question. So, ever so slowly, he opened his right eyelid. Before him stood Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape, talking quietly and paying no attention to him. His eyelid snapped back shut, not wanting to see the face of the professor he just yelled at not long ago. A loud thump as a chair fell over caused him to start though, and his eyes both snapped opened. There was no way to avoid them now. Madame Pomfrey had seem him jump slightly, and knew now that he was awake.

"Mr. Potter!" she said, putting on a false, cheery smile. "I'm so sorry about that. I'm just a little clumsy today." She seemed concerned, and as though waiting for something. Snape, however, stood stone-faced as usual. "I'll be right back," she said, sweeping out of the hospital wing. Harry wanted to tell her not to leave with Snape still in the room, and yet there was something foreboding, telling him not to say a word, and so he kept his mouth shut.

Harry pulled himself up with his arms, although the effort hurt him a great deal. "Stay still, Potter," Snape barked. Harry said nothing. "That was quite stupid of you. I will not put up with the adolescent behavior any longer. As soon as you are out of here, you are going to clean the entire dungeon." There was no malice in his voice. It sounded as though he were merely talking to Harry in his usual cold voice. And yet, one must remember that Snape was skilled at hiding most of his emotions.

"Severus!" Madame Pomfrey shouted, her voice sounding as though she was afraid. Snape drew his wand and half-jogged to Pomfrey's office to see what was the matter. Harry could hear their voices, although he couldn't hear the words. What he wouldn't do for a pair of those ears Fred and George had! The voices ended abruptly in a startling silence. Madame Pomfrey, white faced and looking as though she were about to cry, swept into the wing.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, worried. He had never seen Pomfrey like this before. It was unnerving, and he was dying to know what the matter was.

"I…I don't know yet," she said. "Just be patient and I'll tell you."

"Oh, for pity's sake woman, that's a lie and you know it," Snape said from the corner of the room. "Go ahead and tell him." Snape did not seem at all concerned with whatever it was, and preoccupied himself with looking through the potions that lined the cabinet walls.

"Please tell me," Harry pleaded quietly. "I can handle whatever it is."

Madame Pomfrey looked into his eyes carefully, and though, 'He's older than most adults I know!' It was that thought, that caused her to talk. "Harry, I ran a test on your blood, to see what was making you so sick and weak." Her voice failed her.

"Go on," Harry urged gently.

"Well, I got the results back. And, Harry, you're not…well. You're…dying."

The words struck Harry like a stunner curse. The world swam out of vision for a moment. Dying? He couldn't be dying! He had to defeat Voldemort! He had escaped. He was free of that dungeon, and Voldemort could hurt him anymore. He took a deep calming breath, and the world slowed down. Pomfrey stood exactly where she had been, and Snape had turned to watch what was going on.

"From what?" Harry asked, his voice shaking so slightly for someone who had been dealt such news.

"It's a disease contracted from the potion that Severus concocted on his own. Apparently, it destroys your organs slowly, causing internal bleeding."

"There's nothing that can be done?" Pomfrey shook her head. Harry turned to Snape. "And you mean to tell me this is all HIS FAULT!" his voice betrayed him to the anger he was feeling at the moment. Had he been able, he would have jumped out of bed and strangled Snape on the spot.

"Oh, get over yourself," Snape spat. "Like I really knew what the aftereffects of that potion would be."

"You're a POTION"S MASTER!" Harry roared. "You're supposed to know what will happen."

"I was only concocting a potion for torture as I was told. I had no idea it would be used on you, and I didn't know there would be any long-lasting effects." The same look of complete indifference remained on Snape's face, and it was driving Harry insane. He wanted to wipe that conceited look right off the professor's face. And yet, it seemed at the same time that it was not worth the effort.

"So you really can do nothing?" Harry asked, turning his attention back to the medi-witch who stood before him.

"No. Not unless Severus can concoct something to counteract the effects, and that is very unlikely."

Harry fell back into his soft pillows, just wanting the world to fade away. It seemed such a waste. All of the people who had sacrificed so much to help him, and his undoing would be an unintentional poisoning. Assuming, that is, that Snape really did have no idea that the potion was for Harry's use, and that it would cause lasting effects.

"I can give you some potions to help with the pain when it comes to that, but that's all I can do. I'm very sorry. I'll stay over the summer to help you if you need me to."

"No, that's alright," Harry insisted. "You need to spend time away from the school. I'll be fine."

Madame Pomfrey looked skeptical, and yet she still nodded. "I'll contact Dumbledore immediately to let him know." The witch turned to leave.

"Wait! Madame Pomfrey!" The woman stopped quickly and turned back around. "Please don't let anyone else find out. I don't want them to know. I don't want them to worry."

"Of course," she said, then left Snape and Harry alone.

"Don't think I'm about to forget what you did earlier," Snape hissed quietly.

"Oh, I'm sure you won't," Harry muttered. Snape heard him perfectly well, but did not say anything in response. Harry decided to close his eyes for just a little while, and maybe it would all just go away. Before he knew it, though, he had drifted back to sleep. Snape left the room, annoyed at the inconvenience of looking after the boy all summer long.

Harry was awakened by a door opening in some part of the hospital wing. He turned his head to see the Headmaster walking toward him. Dumbledore's face was pale, and his eyes looked old and tired, with none of their usual sparkle. He quickly made his way to Harry's bedside, just as Harry had managed to sit up. "Are you alright, my dear boy?"

Harry nodded. "I feel fine."

Dumbledore looked at Harry as though afraid the boy might break. "I am so sorry," the Headmaster said quietly.

"It's not your fault," Harry said, having thought of no reason why Albus would blame himself.

"Oh, but it is in so many ways. You see, it was my decision, for your own safety I thought, to leave you with your relatives. If I hadn't left you with them, they never would have hurt you, and then you would never have been captured. You wouldn't be dying if it wasn't for my faulty judgment."

"But you had no way of knowing what would happen," Harry said quietly. "It's not your fault at all."

"All of the times that I have put you in danger, you would think that I would know better. I am sorry beyond words."

Harry would have liked to come up with something to say, but couldn't. He certainly didn't blame Dumbledore in the least. It wasn't Dumbledore who had poisoned him, after all. It had been Snape and Voldemort. And yet, he could think of no words to say to take the blame away. "It's not your fault," Harry repeated. "Besides, it's possible I could die anyway. I've come to accept that fact recently, and I'll deal with this the same way. And dying really isn't so bad. It's really just like sleeping."

Dumbledore gave Harry a sad smile. "You are wise beyond your years. Only someone who was considerably mature could have such an outlook on life. Most people are terrified of death"

"I'm not afraid of death," Harry confessed. "I guess, I'm only afraid for those I leave behind. I'm not looking forward to the actual dying part either, but it will end eventually."

Dumbledore looked forlornly out of the window into the outside world. "Please don't tell anyone else," Harry said, and Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "I don't want them to know just yet. I'll tell them, one day soon enough, but for now I'd rather they not know."

Dumbledore nodded. "I understand completely. Now, I'm afraid I must leave you, Harry. Rest, and don't forget that you will resume you lessons with Professor Snape soon. Please try not to shout anymore." Dumbledore's eyes grinned at him. "I have spoken to Severus, and he has agreed to go easier on you, but this is a combined effort. You must show him at least a little bit of respect if you want him to be nicer."

"It would be easier to give him respect if he was a friendlier person."

"Severus Snape has lived through many trials in his life that few will ever understand. You must realize, Harry, that he does not know how to behave any other way. He is only acting as he knows how, and that is with contempt and anger towards most. There was a time when Severus was very hospitable, and could easily carry on a conversation with most people."

"So what happened?" Harry was now intrigued.

"I'm afraid that is his business. If he ever wished to tell you, he might. But I have no place to tell you what happened in his life. Good bye to you, Mr. Potter. I'll see if I can't arrange a visit from your friends soon."

"Thank you sir!" Harry called to Dumbledore's back as the Headmaster strode from the hospital wing.

A day later, Harry was sitting, fully dressed, on his bed. He clutched his walking stick tightly, not wanting to walk with the wretched piece of wood, and yet not wanting to be confined to his bed. Harry thought of all that had happened recently, and that he really didn't want to be stuck disabled for the rest of his brief life. He was determined to live the rest of his life to the fullest he possibly could. "Why can't the purpose of all of this be revealed to me?" he said. As he spoke the words, the cane began to glow brightly. Harry nearly dropped it, and yet something told him to hang on for a moment. As he watched, a bright green jewel slid out from the top of the cane and onto his lap. "That's funny," Harry thought. "I don't remember a jewel there."