Heal Thy Blood
Chapter Four - Embracing Reality
In the serene living room, the soft ticking of a clock resting on the pale oak mantle above the fireplace punctuated the otherwise tranquil silence. The room exuded an air of understated elegance, with plush sofas arranged around a low coffee table, and tasteful artwork adorning the walls. The dim glow of evening light filtered through sheer curtains, casting a warm, inviting ambiance.
His gaze wandered out of the expansive window, level with the coastline - the ocean to the right, and the rolling English countryside, adorned with green hills and scattered woodlands, to the left. The gentle winter wind rustled the branches and swept the ocean waves onto the beach, yet its reality failed to reach his ears. The expansive view seemed to mirror the expanse of his thoughts, both wandering far beyond the immediate space.
"Harry, take some moments to process this," James Watson advised gently, his hand still providing comfort on Harry's shoulder. James was a seasoned healer, his face carrying the weight of shared emotion. The room felt more than just walls and furniture; it was a sanctuary where sorrow and compassion mingled.
Harry swallowed, inhaling deeply as he tried to steady his emotions amidst the tidal wave of revelation crashing within him. His mind felt like a stormy sea, waves of shock and grief colliding against the shores of his consciousness.
"How long?"
"The estimation is challenging, given the extraordinary strength of your magical core for your age," James explained, his voice a mix of professionalism and empathy. "It has been battling the damage your body sustained, but as it weakens, the timeframe I estimate could span from a year to potentially a few months. Continuous monitoring will be necessary to gauge its progression."
"What symptoms should I anticipate?" his voice echoed hollowly, as if speaking the words solidified the reality he was facing. The awareness of impending death without a clear timeline was an additional blow to an already wounded heart.
"Normally, extended exposure to unforgivable curses like the Imperius and Cruciatus might result in mental impairment or seizures," James began, his gaze compassionate. "However, it appears to be the killing curse that has inflicted the damage here, primarily affecting your heart and lungs." He paused, adjusting his glasses as if the gravity of the situation weighed upon them. "As the damage spreads and your core can no longer stave it off, you might experience escalating fatigue, frequent and severe coughing fits, loss of appetite. It's uncharted territory, no one has survived this before."
"I understand," Harry replied, his voice tinged with a mix of acceptance and resignation. The weight of his predicament settled heavily upon him, but he was determined to confront it with courage.
"Harry, this fate is undeserved by you of all people. Training you has been a privilege, and the world will lose a remarkable healer. More than that, getting to know you has been an honor and I have come to view you as a friend. I'll do my utmost to ensure your well-being," James's voice quivered, the emotions he tried to contain finally seeping through.
Harry closed his eyes briefly, restraining his tears. The support he was receiving was both heartwarming and heart-wrenching. His thoughts drifted to the countless lives he had touched as a healer, the people he had saved, and those he had offered solace to. The prospect of no longer being able to fulfill this purpose gnawed at him.
"I wish to continue working."
"Harry—"
"As long as I am capable, I promise that the instant I have any symptoms, I'll step back and resign from my role," Harry interrupted, his tone firm and resolute.
"Such a decision could affect the time you have left, my boy."
"I have patients, James, no matter my issue they need me."
James conceded, though not without reluctance. As long as Harry could tend to his patients safely, James understood that Harry wouldn't jeopardize lives due to his own stubbornness. This exchange of understanding was a testament to the bond they shared, forged through years of mentorship and friendship.
Abruptly, the fireplace roared to life in emerald flames, triggering Harry to instinctively reach for his wand. He hesitated as Hermione stumbled into the room, emitting a frustrated huff as she brushed off soot. Her navy blue trouser suit exuded professionalism, a stark contrast to the disheveled state she was currently in. Harry couldn't help but smile at her achievements and her determination.
Her expression, however, shifted from a smile to concern when she looked at him, swiftly dropping her bag onto a nearby sofa before settling beside him.
"What's the matter?" she asked, her voice a gentle blend of worry.
Initially, he contemplated concealing the news, reluctant to burden his friends, his family, with his grim prognosis. Yet, he knew Hermione would never forgive him if he kept her in the dark. She would blame herself for not prying harder, for potentially not helping him from her end. No, he had to tell her, followed by the Weasleys and Andi.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he reached for her hand, her worried gaze locking onto his as her fingers intertwined with his.
"We underwent health tests yesterday, and…" his voice strained, the familiar ache in his chest intensified as he confronted reality. He noticed the gears turning in Hermione's mind, prompting him to press on, determined to hold his courage. "Hermione, I'm dying," he managed to utter, his throat constricting and tears welling up. Yet, her reaction, the expression on his closest friend's face, was what truly shattered him.
The weight of his words sank in, and after what felt like an eternity her eyes brimming with tears, and she shook her head slowly in denial. Her grip on his hand tightened, her trembling passing through their entwined fingers. The old Hermione might have demanded answers, sought a solution in books to reclaim a semblance of control. But this Hermione let the tears flow, drawing nearer to him. Releasing his hand, she pulled him close. As her head rested on his shoulder, he felt her body convulse with sobs, her grief unleashing the emotions he had kept bottled up.
He sat there, embracing her as she wept. The thought of breaking the news to the rest of his loved ones terrified him more than his battle with Voldemort. Just when his life was finally his own, death came knocking, and he wasn't prepared to answer the door.
"How long? What's causing it?" she asked, sniffling as she pulled back, her eyes swollen and red. There were the remains of his friend's old habits.
"We, but it's estimated around a year given the rate of deterioration, but it could be less," he began. Seeing her anguish, he pressed on, laying it all bare. "The exposure to the killing curse is responsible. I survived it twice, but while it didn't take my life, it inflicted damage on my heart and lungs. My magical core is weakening, unable to ward off the damage for much longer."
With a heavy heart, Harry continued his explanation to Hermione, determined to provide her with the complete picture of his situation.
"It's a battle I can't win, Hermione," he confessed, his voice a mixture of resignation and determination. "The curse's corruption has apparently begun to spread, and my body can't keep up. My magical core is like a shield that's slowly cracking, and there's only so much time it can hold on."
Hermione's gaze remained locked onto his, a mixture of disbelief and sorrow etched into her expression. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, before speaking softly, "Is there anything they can do? Any treatments or potions that might help?"
Harry's shoulders sagged as he shook his head, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. "They've done tests, consulted experts within the hospital, and nothing seems to counteract the curse's effects. It's like it's been woven into my very being, and there's no unraveling it."
Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes again, and she reached out to clasp Harry's hand once more. "You can't give up, Harry. There has to be something, someone, who can find a way to help."
A sad smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips. "That's the Hermione I know. Always searching for a solution. But I've accepted the reality of this, Hermione, well as much as I can have. I don't want to spend whatever time I have left chasing a cure that might not exist. I want to make the most of the time I have, spend it with the people I care about."
Hermione's grip on his hand tightened, her voice trembling as she spoke, "We're not giving up on you, Harry. We'll stand by you, and we'll keep searching for answers, even if you've chosen to focus on the present."
Harry's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked at his friend, overwhelmed by her unwavering support. "Thank you, Hermione. Knowing that I have friends like you means more to me than you can imagine."
They sat in silence for a moment, a mixture of emotions filling the room—the weight of impending loss, the strength of friendship, and the resolve to face the uncertain future together.
Eventually, Hermione broke the silence, her voice a blend of determination and vulnerability.
"Maybe, just maybe, there's something they haven't considered, something that could help, we live in a world of magic!."
Harry nodded, appreciating her optimism while still holding onto his acceptance of the inevitable. "I won't turn away any help that comes my way, Hermione. But I don't want to spend my remaining time dwelling on what might never be."
Hermione's eyes softened, and she leaned in, embracing him tightly.
The ticking of the clock continued in the background, a reminder of the passage of time, and yet, in that moment, Harry and Hermione found solace in each other's presence, determined to make every moment count.
...
The cozy living room in the Potter household was bathed in the warm glow of lamplight as Harry Potter hunched over a pile of ancient tomes and parchment, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
The crackling fire in the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the room, adding to the ambiance of focused determination. Pages flipped, quills scratched, and the air was thick with the scent of old parchment.
Sitting across from him, Hermione Granger watched Harry with a mixture of concern and admiration. Her fingers drummed lightly on the arm of her chair as she observed her friend's relentless pursuit of a cure for his patients blood curse. Harry's hair was ruffled and his glasses slightly askew, evidence of hours spent poring over the texts. But his eyes gleamed with a determination that was both familiar and resolute. It had been two days since he had told her about his condition, and he hadn't stopped since.
"Harry," Hermione finally spoke, breaking the silence that had settled in the room. He looked up, his green eyes meeting her gaze. "I know how important this is to you, but you need to remember to take care of yourself too."
Harry sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I can't just sit around, Hermione. Their condition is getting worse."
Hermione leaned forward, her expression softening. "I understand, but pushing yourself too hard won't help anyone. You're a healer, Harry. You of all people should know the importance of maintaining your own well-being."
He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it even more. "I know, I know. But every moment counts, Hermione. I can't afford to waste time."
Hermione's gaze turned thoughtful. "What if I help you? We can research together, divide the workload. You don't have to do this alone."
Harry looked both surprised and grateful. "Hermione, you're not a healer like me, this isn't your burden. You have your own life, your own responsibilities."
Hermione's tone was resolute. "I may not be a healer, but I can research just as well as you can. We're friends, and friends help each other."
With a determined nod, Hermione pulled a parchment toward her and summoned a stack of books from the nearby shelf. "Then let's get to work. We'll find a solution, Harry. But remember, breaks are important too. You won't be any good to your patient if you collapse from exhaustion."
As they delved into their research, side by side, the room seemed to come alive with the energy of their collaboration. The crackling fire, the rustling of pages, and the occasional exchange of thoughts filled the space. Together, they navigated the labyrinthine paths of ancient curses and healing techniques.
As the research wore on, Hermione's stomach gave a gentle rumble, and she looked up from her notes with a wistful smile. "You know, Harry, I think it's time we took a little break. How about we order some of those rustic pizzas from the Italian restaurant in the village? Some food might do us good."
Harry rubbed his tired eyes and nodded in agreement. "That sounds like a great idea, Hermione. My brain could use a reset."
Hermione picked up her mobile phone and dialed the number for the Italian restaurant. After a brief conversation, she ended the call and looked back at Harry. "All set. The pizzas will be delivered here in about twenty minutes."
A soft smile of gratitude graced Harry's lips. "Thanks, Hermione. You always know how to brighten up a situation."
While they waited for their food, Hermione turned her attention back to Harry. "Now, about the Weasleys... How have they been taking the news ..?" He saw her swallow thickly.
Harry's expression shifted to a more contemplative one. "It's been a mix of reactions, to be honest. Ron and George were really upset when I told them. You know how close we all are. They've lost so many loved ones already, and the thought of losing another is hard for them."
Hermione nodded, understanding the weight of such emotions. "And the others?"
"Mrs. Weasley was... well, she was devastated. But she's been rallying. It's almost like she's using that maternal strength of hers to keep everyone together. And Mr. Weasley, he's been researching all sorts of magical illnesses and treatments, trying to find any way to help. It's his way of coping, I suppose."
"Like you are with your patient?" she thought.
Their conversation was interrupted by a soft chime at the door, signaling the arrival of their food. Hermione got up and opened the door, greeted by a delivery person holding two pizza boxes. She exchanged a few words, took the pizzas, and closed the door, returning to the table with a satisfied smile.
They both set the table together in comfortable silence. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of companionship and unspoken understanding as they arranged the plates, napkins, and slices of pizza on the table. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating a warm and inviting ambiance.
As they worked side by side, Harry couldn't help but feel a bittersweet pang in his chest. These simple moments of camaraderie and friendship, the easy rapport they shared, were the ones he knew he would miss the most after his passing. The thought hung heavy in the air, like a whisper of the future he wouldn't be a part of.
Hermione glanced at Harry, noticing the slight change in his expression. She paused in her task, placing a hand on his arm. "Harry, are you okay?"
He looked up at her, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just... thinking, you know?"
Hermione gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "About what?"
Harry took a deep breath, his gaze distant for a moment. "The simple things, how we take them for granted."
Hermione's expression softened, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. "You don't have to think about that right now, Harry. We're here, at this moment, and we're going to make the most of it."
Harry returned her smile, appreciating her ability to bring him back to the present. "You're right, Hermione. I'm sorry if I got a bit lost there."
Hermione shook her head. "No need to apologize. We all have our moments. But remember, we're in this together. We'll cherish the time we have and face whatever comes our way."
With a nod, Harry's gaze returned to the present moment. Together, they finished setting the table, and soon they were seated across from each other, enjoying the delicious pizzas. The room was filled with the sounds of contented munching and the occasional soft laughter, as they savored the flavors and the company.
As they sat across from each other, enjoying the pizzas and sharing light-hearted conversation, a thought crossed Harry's mind. He paused mid-bite, setting down his slice of pizza, and looked at Hermione with a spark of inspiration in his eyes.
"Hermione, you know, there might be another avenue we haven't explored yet," he said.
Hermione's eyebrows lifted in curiosity. "Oh? What do you have in mind?"
Harry leaned forward, his expression growing more thoughtful. "The Black Family Library. Sirius mentioned it to me once, how it's filled with all sorts of dark magic and curses. But it might also have information on rare illnesses or even potential cures that St. Mungo's healing journals might not contain."
Hermione's eyes widened with realization. "You're right. The Black Family was known for their extensive collection of dark magic and ancient texts. It's possible that we could find something useful there, something that could provide a new perspective on the patient's condition."
Hermione's excitement mirrored Harry's own. "It's worth a shot, Harry. And if there's even the slightest chance that we could find something helpful, we should definitely pursue it."
Their determination and hope seemed to infuse the air around them, creating a sense of renewed purpose. The weight of Harry's focus hadn't diminished, but the prospect of exploring a new avenue of research brought a glimmer of optimism to their hearts.
As they made preparations to continue their quest for a cure, they both knew that every effort, every new piece of information, brought them closer to their goal. And in that moment, they felt the power of their friendship and their shared determination, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
…
I didn't want to write three or four sad reveal scenes! Hermione in my mind is Harry's greatest friend, sure she had moments but she always cared for Harry and never abandoned him even during the hunt. Ron is in the story and there is no bashing. But I wanted one of Harry's lowest points to be with Hermione.
I won't reveal what the plan is but please don't jump to conclusions about doom and gloom!