Nutshells

It's strange, how quickly one person's life can change and become something totally different, and yet remain in some way, the same. That's sort of what it's like having cancer. You do have to watch yourself every now and again, during some sport - if I get knocked in the chest, it won't do me any favours. If they hit the port where I have my chemo, it will be extremely painful. But I haven't found the cancer to be the social death sentence I thought it would be. As much as it may feel like it sometimes, I don't have cancer tattooed across my forehead. I've made some really good friends - and they accept me. They don't know about the cancer. I don't need the inevitable pity and way people have of treating you when they know you have an illness that could kill you. They tip-toe around you. They stop saying "Oh, that PE lesson nearly killed me," because they think it's a stupid thing to say around a person who may actually be dying. As odd as it may be, I need those jokes about dying after basketball. In a strange way, laughing about death gives me a little more courage to face him, as I will have to do at some stage in this illness. When he has become a joke, how can I be afraid?

"She mightn't be in," Harry's voice floats up to my open window. "She wasn't yesterday."

"That was yesterday," Ginny reminds him. "Today is a whole new day." I close my diary. My mother answers Ginny's cheerful knock.

"Hermione!"

"Coming!" I call. I find my socks, and go downstairs. Danny is in the kitchen, chopping onions. Sauce bubbles gently in a pan on the stove.

"If you're going out, little doll, be back for seven. Dinner will be ready." Danny has increased his usage of the pet name he came up with for me when I was a child. It's comforting.

"What is dinner?"

"Lasagne. Hey, would your friends like to come?"

"Yes, do, dears," my mother interjects. "We can actually meet Hermione's friends."

"Ok, that'll be cool." Ginny says. "We won't be too long, we promise. We're just taking Hermione to the beach. She ought to see it, living here and all."

"Ok, then lets go. Bye Mum, Dad, Danny."

"Bye sweetie. Be safe!" I roll my eyes as I close the door. Be safe. "So, the beach?"

"Where were you yesterday? We called, but your Dad said you were out." Harry asks, as we start walking.

"I was out. I was - visiting a relative. Did I miss something important?"

"No, we just wanted to take you to the castle, show you around."

"Well, we can go next Sunday, right?"

"Aren't you free Saturday?

"Not the morning. Will it be an all day thing?"

"No, I reckon the whole afternoon would cut it. When would you be free?" I think about. It would be right after my chemo session. Would I be up for traipsing round a castle? I have to be, I decide. I have to appear normal. If every Saturday sees me as unavailable, they'll figure something's up. My appointment finishes at eleven. So, if I say half one, that will give me a bit of time to have lunch and have a rest.

"Half-one?"

"OK. My mum can make us a picnic," Ron proposes. "We could sit in the gardens and have dinner?"

"Yeah, that would be cool." I reflect on this. It'll probably finish me off altogether. But I'll have Sunday to recover. I would be back in school on the Monday, refreshed and ready for anything. If I show obvious signs of tiredness, I could just say Danny and I pulled an all-nighter watching horror movies.

We have a little stone-throwing competition, seeing who can throw a stone the furthest. I decline the offer to go paddling. No way in hell. Harry skims a stone a few times, and Ginny sits with me on the wall when the boys forget we exist and start a mock fight with pieces of driftwood.

"How long have you had short hair, then?" she asks, watching the short curls toss in the breeze.

"About a year. I got gum in it, so we had to cut it, and it was easier what with all the sports I did to have shorted hair. And so I kept it short. Doesn't take so long in the mornings either."

"It suits you, you know. I can't imagine you with long hair. Now me, I would never get away with it short. Wrong face. You're one of those really annoying girls who can wear their hair however the hell they want and they'll still look good."

"Thank you," I say, and we laugh. "Anyway - you and Harry. How long. Tell me all the gossip."

"Two years. Sometimes it feels like two minutes. He's everything I've ever wanted for myself. He makes me laugh, he turns up on my doorstep with presents for no reason, he's romantic, kind, thoughtful - and I can have a real, proper screaming row with him."

"Is he a hologram by any chance?"

"No. Although I wonder about how real he is sometimes." She pauses. "Was there anyone for you - before you came here?"

"Yeah. His name was James, he was gorgeous, kind, thoughtful, he remembered my birthday and brought me a Christmas present every year."

"Sounds amazing."

"And gay. He was very gay." We howl with laughter. "No, there wasn't anyone."

"So you're single?" Her eyes gleam, and then she quickly looks away.

"Ginny, spill!"

"I'm sworn to secrecy. I promised faithfully I wouldn't say a word to you or anyone."

"Oh, you cannot just say that and then just leave it, that is totally unfair! Come on, I promise I won't tell you told!"

"I can't! Quit trying to weasel it from me!"

"Aw, Ginny!" The boys come up to were we're sitting and Harry gives Ginny a quick kiss.

"We thought you might like to know it's quarter to seven. We should be heading back." I survey the wall on the other side, leading to the pavement. Ah. Now, it may well have been easy getting up here. It looks a whole lot harder to get down. The other three are fine. I swing my legs nervously, trying to get up the courage to jump down like they did. But it looks very high suddenly.

"Hermione?" Ginny asks, looking up at me. "You OK?" "It's very high."

"It really isn't that high," she assures me. "Only about your chest height."

"I'll just perch here, don't mind me," I say, looking at the ground, which seems to recede with every second.

"Need a hand?" Ron asks, watching me. I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I expect him to take my hands and help me jump. Instead he comes forward to stand directly in front of me. He's tall enough that his waist is a level with the wall. "Wrap your legs around my waist and put your arms around me."

"Excuse me?"

"It's either that or a fireman's lift, and I'm guessing you wouldn't like hanging upside down." I survey him.

"You won't drop me?"

"I promise I won't drop you. Honest. I'm stronger than I look." He smiles at me.

"OK, then. Come here." I slip my arms around his neck and wriggle my bum until I'm right on the edge of the wall. I wrap my legs around him. One arm wraps itself securely around my waist, the other supports one leg. I loosen my hold on his neck, making sure he's not touching the port on my chest.

"Ready?"

"I think so." He picks me up, and I tighten my hold a little and close my eyes.

"Ok, unwind your legs. I'll put you down gently, I promise." He lets me down until my feel touch the floor. I stumble a little, not expecting it, and he grabs my waist to steady me. "You OK?"

"Yeah. Thanks." He releases me and we depart for home.

My heart takes five minutes to stop hammering. All I can think of is how warm and strong his hands were on my waist, and how strong he felt when he was holding me so briefly.

But this isn't the time for a relationship, or a crush. I push the voice that whispers that I like him into the back of my mind and slam the door on it. No way. No.

Pt IIDanny plonks a plate of steaming hot lasagne in front of me.

"So did you enjoy your trip to the beach?"

"We did. Hermione got stuck on a wall," Ginny tells him. He laughs.

"Who helped her down?" Ginny looks confused.

"People have had to help me off walls since I was a kid. It's normally Danny. I'm scared of heights." I explain.

"Oh, right. Well, Ron did." Ron goes slightly red and focuses on his food. So do I. I notice Danny's eyes flick from one to other of us. Ginny's do too. Harry is engaged in a discussion with Dad about basketball. Pretty soon, Mum, Ginny and Danny start talking about Doctor Who. I seize the chance whilst nobody is listening to talk to Ron.

"Thanks for helping me down. Most people just laugh at me."

"It's cool. I could see you were panicking."

"I was. I'm really not great with heights. I always feel so silly after - I look at the wall and think, how embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed. It's OK to be scared of things. I'm scared of spiders," he confides casually. "Don't ever let anyone make you feel stupid either. It's not your fault." We reach for a slice of garlic bread at the same time. Our hands bump against each other. We apologise at the same time, and each tell the other to go first. I thank him quietly and pick a piece up. My face burns for no reason.

I know that this isn't a good plan, developing a crush now. He wouldn't want to be saddled with a girl who's suffering with cancer, and there's no way I'd ever let him even if he could ever want me. I would never ask someone to have to suffer that. It's bad enough that the family have to watch me fight this. There's no way I'm going to let Ron suffer. He doesn't have to know. Nobody has to know. I don't want him to have to know that. I won't - can't - tell him.

A/N: OK, so when there is a big block of italics, it's Hermione writing in her diary. Unless I states otherwise. OK? Well? Good chapter? PLEASE REVIEW!