A/N: OK, so it's been a tad longer than two weeks. I exchanged my plane ticket home so I could spend an extra day with my family. So, here it is, chapter fourteen…with Molly, Arthur, Bill and Charlie being introduced. Hermione has a week left to make her decision about the mastectomy.

By the way, this story is in Hermione's POV unless I say otherwise.

Sunday Lunch

Sunday lunch is such a family thing to do - and I realised today that we haven't had a proper, roast Sunday lunch in my family since the diagnosis. Is this what happens in all family when cancer becomes a member? All the usual family stuff you got used to changes completely and a dark shadow seems to dog you every moment. Suddenly, the happy family has no place with you. It's like my illness has completely taken over. I'm looking forward to today, but I'm wary at the same time - I can't stand sympathy, and I know it's bound to happen. It's a natural reaction to the word cancer, but I hate it. It's bad enough. People constantly saying they're sorry - sorry isn't going to cure me, sorry isn't going to stop me having to make the biggest decision of my life. Sorry won't help me win. I don't want it, because it doesn't help. I need them to act like nothing is wrong, to not tiptoe round me like I might drop dead at any moment.

Besides, sympathy makes me think about dying, and then I cry. I can't cry any more. I feel like there's nothing left in me to give to crying. I'm too drained, too afraid. Afraid of the decision I know I must make, afraid of the treatment, afraid of the reactions, afraid of the surgery that would follow. Afraid of death. I can't imagine dying, and that's why it scares me so much. How can I imagine my thoughts, my feelings even my life, how can I imagine all that just stopping, coming to an end? Is there anything beyond death, beyond the end? For the first time since my diagnosis, I find myself questioning my faith. The faith that I have relied on right through treatment now seems shaky and shallow. I doubt that there is a paradise waiting for me. I can only see the endless end. I'm scared of not knowing about what comes after death. And it's lead me to question everything I was believed in.

I call Ron an hour before I'm due at his house.

"Ron?"

"Hey, sweetheart! You're still coming right?"

"Yes, of course. I just wanted to ask you something - a favour really."

"Anything."

"Can you ask your family not to do sympathy? If they tell me they're sorry, I'll cry, I know I will. I know I sound ungrateful - I know people mean well, but I just -"

"Mione, breathe. Of course I'll ask them. Don't worry. It'll be fine. Bill is going to drive round and pick you up, OK?"

"I can walk -"

"No way in hell. It's getting too cold. Your brother would kill me if I let you walk." He has a point. It's already hovering just above zero here, in mid-November. "Bill will be there in half an hour. We thought maybe you should get here a little earlier?"

"Yes, that's fine. Do I have to dress up?"

"No, just wear whatever. Jeans will be cool. Bring a sweater, although you won't want it here - so wear a light top."

"OK. I'll go and get dressed. See you soon."

"Looking forward to it."

"Me too. Bye."

"Bye, sweetheart."

A bright and cheery knock at the door pulls me out of my reverie. I wait calmly for Mum to shout up. But she doesn't - instead Danny races into the room. He's got the biggest grin on his face.

"What?" I demand, smiling too. "I was under the impression the doorbell had rung, not Christmas come early."

"Hermione! It's Ron's brother Bill! He looks like an effing rock star! He's got long hair in a ponytail, an earring with a claw attached to it and he's only frigging Bill Weasley!"

"Yes, that happens…his name is Bill, he is Ron's brother…Bill Weasley."

"Hermione!! THE Bill Weasley!" I look blankly at him. Danny grabs a CD from the pile by his bed. He thrusts it up my nose. "THE Bill Weasley, as in the LEAD SINGER of the rock band "Wizardry"! That band I like!"

"What?" I gape at him.

"Hermione! Bill's here to take you to Ron's!" I have to get up, go downstairs. I leave Danny staring awestruck at the CD case, unable to come to terms with the fact that a real-life rock star was just in the room. I recognize him myself when I get downstairs. Not as rocker-Bill, but as B - the ballad star with the voice that never fails to break my mother's heart. Mine too, come to that. I also recognize him as Ron's brother. Apart from the hair and the earring and the fact that he's slightly taller and a touch more muscular, he looks almost exactly like Ron.

"Hi, Hermione. It's good to finally meet the girl who Ron never stops talking about." I blush scarlet - I can feel it.

"Good to meet you too. Shall we head off?"

"Certainly. Lovely to meet you, Mrs Granger."

"Bye. Have fun, Hermione." She gives me a hug and a kiss. And I get into a car with quite possibly the most famous, successful face in music.

We drive for about a minute in silence.

"Loving the bandana, Hermione," he says, quietly. I've got my bright red one on, red with yellow edging. It puts a little colour back into my cheeks. "Good colour on you," he continues, as if we're talking about my top or something. It isn't a very long drive, and their street turn-off is coming up. Plus, Bill drives like a maniac.

"Thanks. I was going to wear one with sheep on it, but it's in the wash."

"I used to have a thing about sheep when I was a kid." Suddenly his eyes narrow, and he swears. "Fuck. Hermione, I'm so, so sorry about this." I look for there house. There's a mass of camera lenses trained on the car. "Just keep your head down and try and ignore them."

"Is my face going to in the paper, under the headlines of speculation?"

"Probably. I can take you home -"

"Bill, just relax. I will be finding the pavement very interesting."

"I'm sorry." He opens the car door, comes round, lets me out, and I keep my eyes very firmly on the ground, ignoring the bright flashes and shouts. I'm red as my bandana when we make it to the door. Somebody grabs me and hauls me inside, And then I'm in Ron's arms. I cling to him until my breathing steadies.

"Bill," I say, lifting my head from Ron's chest, "I don't know how you do it. That was awful."

"You OK?" Ron asks.

"Yeah."

"Come on - you have to meet the family."

So he takes me by the hand and drags me through to the living room, where the entire collection of Weasleys, plus Harry and his parents, are present. Harry's mother gives me a huge hug, and I look at her, knowing she's survived what I have, knowing that she's living proof that this can be beaten. Ron's mother announces that I am "just beautiful!" and I go scarlet again. Ron's father waves from behind his newspaper, and tells me he's very glad to meet the girl who has made his son so happy. It's Ron's turn to blush. Harry's father smiles and declares that I seem embarrassed enough, so it's good to meet me. Bill, I already have met. Molly - she insists I call her Molly, right from the start - calls down Ron's other brother, Charlie. There's two seconds of silence. Then a clatter, a thump and footsteps coming towards the living room. A shorter, muscled version of Percy appears in the doorway.

"Charlie?" I gape. He blinks, whoops and rushes at me. He scoops me up and spins me round.

"Mione!"

"So you two have met?"

"Charlie," I explain, "was my brothers room-mate during their first year at university. He spent a week with us last summer holidays."

"Danny and I are best mates. He told me his sister was ill, but I never made the connection, even when Ron kept talking about Hermione."

"And I never knew your surname," I realise. "I never even thought to ask."

"I should have recognized you from Ron's descriptions of you straight off. Danny always had a photo of you on top of Mount Snowdon on his bedside table. I should have realized!"

When we settle down to dinner, I already feel like part of the family. I already feel welcome. Molly tells me to bring my parents and Danny next time, and I'm instantly pleased that there will be a next time. Harry's mother sits me next to her on the sofa afterwards, and she holds my hand and whispers to me that I'm brave, and that she knows I'll make the right decision. She tells me she had a mastectomy, and that if it will save me, then I must do it. She'll support me. And she whispers conspiratorially that hospital food sucks, so I must be more brave to face that than to have the operation. She hugs me tight, tells me to visit soon, tells me to call her at any point if I ever get scared and I need to talk. She tells me that I can beat this.

For the first time, honestly and truly, looking into the eyes of Lily Potter, the woman who has fought it and won, I feel true hope. And I know then that I'll be having the operation. I have hope. And hope feels wonderful.