Stolen Smiles

Everything hurt when I woke up this morning. It's almost time for school - and the chemotherapy is taking it's toll. I feel more tired after shorter periods of time, and I'm losing my appetite sometimes. Of course, the awful thing is the relatives. When they ring, they ask me how I am, and when I tell them I'm tired or feeling sick or ill, there is always an uncomfortable silence. That's the worst. They don't know what to say. They can't jut tell me I'll soon be better, because nobody can say that for sure. So they say nothing, because they can't think of what to say. It's why I like being friends with people who don't know I'm sick. Because when I tell them I'm tried or feeling a little sick, they make sympathetic noises, and tell me I shouldn't stay up so late or eat too many sweets. And then they can make me laugh. And it feels good to laugh. It feels really good to laugh. Because sometimes, if I don't laugh, I'll cry. But I'm so tired - and I don't know how much longer I can hide it from them.

I close my diary when Ginny and all the boys get on the bus. Today, Ginny and Harry sit together, and Ron comes and sits down next to me.

"What's that?" he asks curiously, as I slip the diary back into my bag.

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing." He drops it. We get off the bus.

"Ah, the joys of double Chem," Ron murmurs in my ear. I laugh softly. "Staring at Snape for two hours, debating about whether we can tip acid over him and get away with it…" I poke him in the ribs, and he tickles me. Ginny, Harry and the twins stare at us.

"Alright, Ronniekins, you can take your hands off Hermione now. We don't need to watch you flirt." One twin says. I narrow my eyes at him.

"Quiet, Freddy," I retort, trying to control the wild blush creeping over my cheeks. "Come on, Ron, Harry, we'll be late for class." The boys follow me, leaving Ginny and the twins to stare after us.

Snape is clearly in a foul mood. Ever since he was forced to give me top marks for the chlorine gas, he's been looking for any excuse to rile me up. And I'm determined not to let him win. We're in groups today, and he pairs me off with Ron. He makes a desperate face at me.

"I have no idea what I'm meant to be doing."

"We're going to need hydrochloric acid and an electrical charge." He plugs the electrical charge in and hands me the acid. I measure some out into a beaker and drop a charger into it. I switch the power on.

"So…what happens now?"

"We wait. We watch it to see if it reacts to the electricity, and if it does, how. I'll go and get a worksheet. Watch the acid. If it bubbles very violently, switch off the electric charge, OK?"

"Cool."

I weave my way through the lab tables to the front. I pick a worksheet up and turn to go back. After that, everything is a little blurry. I slip on something. I land quite heavily. Harry and Ron leap up from their experiments and rush to my side. Ron hauls me to my feet and holds me steady for a minute.

"You OK?" He murmurs in my ear.

"I think so." I rub my hip. "I'll have a bruise tomorrow."

"Miss Granger, as hard as it may be for you to grasp, the floor in this lab is polished to prevent acid damage. Please be more careful about how you walk. I do not want to have to deal with the inevitable paperwork if you fall and cut your head open." Ron drops me like a hot potato. He spins round to glare at Snape's retreating back.

"Dick."

"He's not worth it. I'm not seriously hurt. Leave it." Ron looks down at me.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Positive. Harry, you should go back to Neville. Ron, we have acid to watch."

We trail into English after break. Ron gets Harry to switch places with him. He leans over and whispers in my ear.

"We have McGonagall for this. We're reading Dracula. It's quite cool. Read it before?"

"Yes."

"Then you should be fine." Then he sits upright as the teacher comes in.

"Miss Granger, I apologise. I appreciate that you won't have a copy yet. If you could read along with Mr Weasley for today, until you get yourself a copy."

"Yes, Professor."

English passes in a haze. I'm still musing over my hip - which actually hurts quite a lot. I inspect it in the toilets during lunch. Ginny gasps.

"Jesus, Hermione."

"I know," I say, examining it. It's bruised up already. "Impressive, huh?"

"What did you do?"

"Fell over in the science lab. Come on, the boys will be wondering what we're doing."

It's that afternoon when I get restricted in my activities for the first time. We're playing rugby in PE. I don't need to be told how dangerous that would be. I bruise very easily, we've established that - but rugby is a contact sport, and if someone slammed into my chest I'd wind up in a lot of pain. So I sit on the sidelines, watching the other girls. I plead my hip, saying it hurts - just for their benefit. I feel so stupid. I'm itching to get up there and play. Tears of frustration prickle at the back of my eyes, but I fight them back. I'm tired, my hip hurts, and I still want to play rugby. It isn't fair.

A/N: I hope I'm getting how Hermione feels right here. I did research on chemotherapy side effects: and some cancer patients find they bruise more easily during treatment. Please review!!
I wasn't sure if I was getting anything right with this chapter. I don't feel that it's as good as my other chapters. Somebody tell me what they think?