Chapter Forty-One: The Less Than 1% Club

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Her hand was shaking when she finally conjured the patronus. It had taken her three tries to magic the dolphin into being. And when she finally did, it floated there uselessly as she stared it down in silence.

There were too many words and feelings tumbling around in her mind, and none seemed quite right for her happy little dolphin to shout at Harry smack in the middle of the Ministry.

Oh, how could she say it?

She lowered her shaking hand, eyes stinging.

It's not working anymore. She could say that. Two whole weeks of chemo for the number to go up two points. Pumping all that poison into her body, and for what? What a fucking waste.

Stupid molar.

It just didn't want to let her go.

"It's 295," she whispered finally. "I need you. Please come."

And then she sent the dolphin off with a trembling wave of her wand because she couldn't manage another word. The room grew visibly darker in its absence. The walls pressed in around her, the weight of her anxious mind unbearably grinding her into the earth. One thought surging to the surface.

I'm scared.

The fear swept through her, bringing with it an overwhelming wave of sadness. Why? Why did this happen?

And then the tears she'd tried to hold back were falling from her eyes, thick and heavy. Blurring the clinical edges of the exam room. She was in her own world now. A world where only pain and fear existed, stretching out for miles. And everything else felt distant. She couldn't find the energy to care. To dream, or hope, or imagine. To do anything but feel.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there until she mustered the energy to conjure a tissue. Her eyes were puffy when she dabbed at them with shaking hands. She was still trying to get herself together when there was a knock at the door and Hannah slipped back into the room.

"Oh, Ella," she said softly, closing the door behind her.

"I'm sorry," Ella gasped, her eyes stinging once again. She wiped at them furiously. "I'm such a mess. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Hannah laid down the box she was holding and stepped toward the exam table where Ella still sat. "It would be odd if you weren't upset. This is a difficult situation."

"You don't know the half of it," Ella whispered, dropping her face into her hands. "Everything is just so…" But there weren't adequate words to really voice what everything was. Everything was wrong. Awful.

"Do you want to see an abstract healer?" Hannah asked gently. "I can recommend a wonderful witch. It may do you some good."

"No, no, I'm fine." Ella shook her head. The notion that words alone could fix everything was laughable. Just the thought of speaking to an abstract healer heightened her anxiety. "I was just feeling sorry for myself, you know…"

"You're scared."

"Yeah. I am. I am scared." She glanced up at the admission, her stomach twisting into knots. "I don't want to die, Hannah."

"Ella…" Hannah gently laid a hand on her wrist.

"You can't promise that, can you?" Ella choked out.

Hannah was silent for a moment, contemplating Ella in the quiet. "I can't ever promise anything," she said finally. "You don't, as a healer. You can't. But, Ella, it would be very unlikely. Very, very unlikely. About 30% of patients develop methotrexate resistance. That doesn't mean the cancer's won. Do you know how many treatment therapies there are?"

"Yeah," Ella mumbled. "Act-D. EMACO. The Sheffield Centre is currently doing a trial with carboplatin…" Rather than instilling her with hope, the thought of all those therapies brought fresh tears to her eyes. What if the Act-D didn't work? What then?

Was she strong enough for whatever came next?

Hannah appraised her. "That's right. There's a huge well of treatment options available. But your numbers are low enough for Act-D to be a viable choice. It's the preferable choice. Its odds of working are excellent."

"I know," Ella said softly. "But this sucks."

"It does," Hannah agreed. "Very much so."

"I'm going to lose my hair."

"It's likely."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"We're not going to worry about that right now," Hannah said firmly.

Ella nodded, biting down on the onslaught of tears that threatened to just keep pouring out of her. "Give me the stupid drugs already."

"There you are." Hannah offered her a smile. "Have you contacted Harry?"

"I sent him a patronus."

"Good." Hannah reached into the box she had brought and withdrew a clear plastic bag. A yellow liquid was sloshing around inside. She held it up for Ella to see. "This is the dactinomycin. Act-D. Are you familiar with how it's administered?"

"It's… an infusion, right?" she asked, her eyes glued to the bag as her stomach gave a sickening lurch. It was so much bigger. So much more volume than in the MTX syringes she was used to."

"That's right," Hannah said. She withdrew her wand and used it to levitate the bag above Ella's head, where it floated to a stop. "Act-D is given once biweekly. So you won't need to see me as frequently. I'm going to draw a line from this"— she pointed to the bag —"that connects directly to a large vein above your heart. Here." She placed a hand against her own collarbone to demonstrate. "I will remove it after the infusion is complete. You won't have any scars."

"OK." Ella nodded for emphasis, her stomach swirling. "How long will it take?"

"Not long. About fifteen minutes. I'd like you to stay an additional fifteen after."

"OK."

"I need you to drink at least eight cups of water a day. Preferably more. Start now."

"All right."

"Side effects," Hannah said, and reached into the box again. She withdrew a vial of thick turquoise liquid and offered it to Ella, along with a water bottle. "Nausea is the big one. Quelling Draught should help. Take it now, and then every four hours as needed." She waited for Ella to down the thick minty potion and twist the cap off the water bottle before continuing. "Hair loss… is likely. It's also likely to affect your blood counts. We can counter that if it becomes an issue. It will make you tired, so please take it easy in the days immediately following treatment."

"Right."

She squeezed the water bottle and thought about the class she had to teach that afternoon. Considered asking Hannah to start on Monday instead, but couldn't bear to do it. Couldn't stand the thought of waiting any longer. Of letting her numbers climb higher in the intervening time.

"If you have a fever of 38 or above, contact me," Hannah continued. "Immediately. Do not take Pepper-Up, and send me your patronus. If the Quelling Draught stops working or you need more, send the patronus. If you feel so fatigued that you can't get out of bed, I need to know that. All right?"

Ella nodded.

Hannah reached into the box again and withdrew several papers. "In-depth information on Act-D," she explained. "Full list of side effects. If anything under 'Immediate' happens, that means you need to send me a patronus. Day or night. Clear?"

She nodded.

"Are you all right?" Hannah asked.

"Mmm hmmm." She nodded again. Swallowed past the lump in her throat.

Hannah chose not to ask if she was sure. Instead, she handed her the pages. Ella took them. The papers felt harsh against her dry skin, blindingly bright when she glanced down. The words What Dactinomycin Is Used For stood out boldly in sharp, black print. Dactinomycin is used to treat…

She lowered the papers to the exam table with a soft rustle, not willing to look anymore. It all felt somehow so much more serious. Real chemo. Not that the MTX hadn't been real, but…

"That's it then," Hannah said gently. "We'll wait for Harry to start the infusion."

"No." Ella shook her head. "Let's just get it over with."

"Ella, I really think—"

"He'll come," she insisted. "Harry will come. So don't… don't worry. Let's just get started. Please."

"All right." Hannah didn't look completely happy with that, but she lifted her wand. "Let's get you more comfortable then."

She twirled the wand in a complicated looking pattern, and Ella felt the exam table beneath her shift, just slightly. A soft backing appeared behind her, and she leaned into it, some of the tension seeping out of her. The seat sank, until her feet were resting on the floor. Armrests grew to a comfortable height, and she lowered the water bottle, placing it there beside her. When the transformation to armchair was complete, Hannah raised her wand and touched it briefly to the floating bag of Act-D, closing her eyes in concentration. The wand tip glowed for a moment at the point of contact, and then a clear thin tube began to grow from the bottom of the bag. She used her wand to draw it in a shimmering arc towards Ella. "Pull down your collar a bit."

Ella touched the edge of her shirt and pulled it down, just slightly.

"Good."

Hannah placed her wand against Ella's chest. She felt a tingling cool brush against her skin, followed by a faint pinching sensation. There was another brief glowing flash, and then a slight pressure, that seemed to settle somewhere deep in her chest. She couldn't quite see what Hannah was doing, with her hands and wand effectively blocking Ella's view. But when Hannah finally stepped away, she stared down to see the clear tube vanishing somewhere into her skin. She glanced away, blowing out a trembling breath.

Hannah touched her wand to the top end of the tube, just below the bag of chemo, and slowly traced it along the length of the tube. It began to shimmer in the wake of her wand, swirling with something that resembled floating strands of memory in a pensieve. Hannah finished her tracing and nodded in satisfaction, her wand now pressed to Ella's chest.

"It's ready," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Scared," Ella admitted.

"I know." Hannah offered her a sympathetic smile. "And otherwise?"

"Fine, I guess. I don't really… a bit cool. Here." She placed a hand against her chest and quickly pulled it away as her fingers brushed the tubing.

"That's all right, you can touch it," Hannah said. "The chemo is damaging to the skin, but I've sealed everything magically, so there won't be any contact. The coolness is a disinfection charm, which will fade shortly. Are there any other concerns?"

Ella shook her head.

"All right, then we will—"

There was a sharp knock at the door, and it swung open abruptly before Hannah could so much as turn around. Harry stood there, a panicked look in his eyes. Ella saw them widen as they met hers. She could only imagine how the scene must look from his perspective. Her sitting there. The floating bag of chemo. The tube, sticking out of her chest. Her eyes stung again.

"Ella!" Harry hurried into the room. Hannah stepped tactfully aside as he stumbled to a stop before Ella. He leaned down, hovering on the edge of a hug, but his eyes trailed across the tubing and he reached for her hand instead, threading his fingers through hers.

"Er—" Ella said. "Well. My numbers are stuck, so we're… we're switching chemo."

"Just like that?" His hand tightened around hers as he crouched down beside her.

"Mmm, yeah." She managed a smile, leaning her head against his chest. "Just like that. Surprise."

She felt his chin brush her hairline and squeezed her eyes shut, letting his sudden warmth envelop her. In that moment it somehow didn't matter that she was moments away from Act-D ravaging her body. It didn't matter that both their futures hung uncertainly in the balance of the world's cruelness. She merely leaned into his presence and let the tears fall, silently, against his robe. And nothing else mattered at all.

It was too soon when he pulled away. Much too soon. But she couldn't ask Hannah to stand around all day and bear witness to their PDA. So finally, Harry pulled back and perched on the edge of the armchair and she handed him the Act-D papers, because she couldn't bear to explain it to him and Hannah shouldn't have to. Hannah gave her a reassuring smile and stepped forward, her wand raised just slightly.

"Are you ready?"

She wasn't. She nodded anyway.

Harry squeezed her hand once again, and Hannah touched her wand to the Act-D bag with an unspoken spell, and Ella watched as the tubing slowly shifted from clear to yellow. She watched, saying nothing, as the yellow drops traveled down the tube. Closer. Closer still. Until, finally, the first bit made contact with the edge of the tube protruding from her chest. And slipped inside.

A bead of sweat rolled silently down her brow. She could have sworn there was an awful taste in her mouth. Something medicinal, buried beneath the minty aftertones of the Quelling Draught. She swallowed hard and clasped her trembling hands together. And watched the yellow drip, drip, drip into the tube.

A minute passed. Two. After five silent minutes, Hannah stepped toward the door and nodded to them. "I'll be right outside. Call if you need anything." And she slipped out of the room, leaving Harry and Ella alone.

"El," he said gently. "Are you all right?"

"No," she whispered. "I don't reckon I've ever been less all right." Her voice broke, stumbling over the last of the admission.

He hugged her, pulling her against him. The tubing coiled between them. She closed her eyes, pretending it wasn't there.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner." His arms were firm against her back, as tight as they could go.

"It's fine." She could feel his heartbeat, strumming against her cheek. "I know you came as soon as you could." She felt like she should say something else. Explain what had happened. But she couldn't quite bear to. Opening her mouth, saying the words… it all seemed too much effort. It was easier to simply stay here, with her head against his chest and Harry's arms around her. And between them, the chemo dripped slowly into her blood.

Drip.

Drip. Drip.

"It's going to be all right," Harry murmured finally. He leaned down, brushing his lips against her cheek.

She let out a scornful breath as she shook her head against his chest. The rustling sound of her hair filled her ears, making her sadder. "Will it?"

"El, c'mon…"

"It feels like we have a shelf life, doesn't it?" she whispered, her voice muffled.

He managed a laugh, which sounded barely like a laugh at all.

"I'm not joking." She glanced up at him, her eyes blurry once again. "Look at us, Harry. Me with this. And you and him. How did we get here?"

He held her, quiet for a long moment. She lay her head against his chest, focusing on the steady sound of his heart as it filled the silence.

"I dunno," he said finally. Firmly. "But someone really brilliant once told me that we're fighting this together. And we don't give up in this family."

She smiled despite herself. "So you think I'm brilliant, do you?"

"Of course." He kissed her again. "Brilliant, and also brave, and… annoyingly stubborn. About the fighting."

She laughed. Couldn't help it. It was more than the comment really warranted, but she supposed she'd cling on to any reason to smile.

"That's why I married you," she informed him, looking up at last. "So you can remind me how stubborn I am."

Harry smiled. "Glad to do my job and all that."

She sighed, pulling back from him and getting comfortable in the poofy armchair again. As comfortable as she could, considering what she was attached to. Her fingers brushed against the tubing, almost without meaning to. She quickly pulled them away. Then she glanced back at Harry, who had been watching her in silence.

"What are we going to do?" she asked him.

"You're going to be incredibly strong and brave and get your chemo," Harry said without missing a beat. "And I'm going to be here. For whatever you need."

"I need to know that it's you," she said, before she could stop herself. "You, and not…"

Harry's eyes darkened for a moment, as if with guilt. She wasn't sure.

"It's me."

He took her hand firmly in his own. "El, I swear. It's me. I'm right here."

She nodded. Her fingers squeezed around his. And then she glanced at the bag, half empty now, and watched it drip.

Drip.

Drip.

She felt all right. Physically, at least. She still felt all right eight minutes later, when Hannah returned to vanish the tubing and the empty bag. No scar remained, just as Hannah had promised. Not even an imprint on her skin.

And she was all right still fifteen minutes after that, when Hannah finally said it was safe to go. No allergic reactions. Nothing to be concerned about. That was something, at least. At least her hair hadn't fallen out immediately on contact with the chemo, like some sort of shock reaction. No, she'd merely stepped out of Hannah's office with Harry's hand in hers and a container of Quelling Draughts stuffed in her bag, and walked, her feet strangely steady beneath her. All the way to the Floo. And one wild firespin later they were in their sitting room. And she was fine, fine. No nausea. No fevers. All fine.

And emotionally, she was broken.

She spent what felt like a week, and was probably at least an hour, merely standing at the window staring blankly out at the world beyond. At the people walking the pavements and the cars zipping by on the road. At the shop windows and the restaurants, and the odd lady with all the hair in the flat just across. She didn't see any of it; not really. It was just there, part of the turning of the world. And she, too, was part of that turning. For now, at least. And it would go right on turning without her, all just the same way. The pain of that realization was too immense to feel.

It was Snowy who tore her away from the window at last, pushing past her legs as he gracefully jumped up on the windowsill. Startled, she turned to see Harry hovering nearby. He seemed to hesitate, as if unsure if he should approach her or let her be. She met his gaze in silence.

"I dunno how to help you," he finally admitted. "I wish there was something I…"

"Could do to make it better?" she asked, managing a sickly smile. "Yeah…"

He nodded, his face pained.

"Just hold me," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly over the words. And he walked over to the window and enclosed her in his arms. She leaned against him, letting his warmth seep into her. And then her eyes shifted to the window once again. Drawn to the tiny figures down below on the pavement.

"Are you going to class?" he asked after a while, breaking the silence.

She sighed. Class. Somehow she'd entirely forgotten. She could go to class. She could. It was just also that she couldn't, because what could she possibly teach? How to break down crying in the middle of a lecture hall? Because she reckoned she might just do that. She'd have to owl Graye Greengrass and—

"You could ask Siggy to sub in," Harry suggested.

"I could." She considered that. They had discussed the possibility after all. Siggy was well-prepared to do it, and they had gone over the lesson plan just yesterday. Why not, she thought. Why not give her a real go? And there was no reason not to, so she reached for her wand and summoned the dolphin once again, sending it out into the spring sunlight. She had provided no details — she would save those for a later time. A stronger time. She wasn't ready to face anyone right then, so when Siggy's falcon returned with her confirmation, she only had enough in her to send one last note to Graye before wearily lowering her wand. Then she finally turned to Harry, leaned her head against his chest, and cried.

She cried for what felt like days, even though most days she didn't cry at all; merely held the tears inside and carried them with her. She carried them to all the corners of their flat. Left them in the kitchen and the bathroom, and mixed in with the threads of their bedspread, until they became the fabric of her entire life. They followed her outside, into the painful brightness of spring, where flowers bloomed and birds sang, and it felt like the entire world was mocking her.

She didn't let them show, though. Not after that first day.

One day; that's all she really allowed herself. One day of shock and tears and disappointment. And after that, it was all braves smiles and awful jokes — and that was just what she did, wasn't it? She didn't sit there and cry. No, she was strong. Like Harry said.

At least on the outside.

She told the others the next day, and that was hard. But they stood with her and that made it a bit easier. And then she met with Siggy, who informed her class had gone all right with a pleasantly confident smile, and that made things a bit easier, too.

And really, it was time she needed. Time for the shock to wear away. And day by day, that was easier. Sunday was easier than Saturday. And by Monday she didn't need the Quelling Draught anymore. She didn't feel nauseous; just numb.

And numb was fine.

She could get through the day like that. Numb. Put one foot in front of the other. Do the things she needed to do, even if she was only going through the motions. Teach her class. Exchange owls with Snape, who'd taken to perusing libraries outside of England, still searching for a way to free Harry. Oh, every time she picked up the quill, she wanted to sob. She and Harry, both of them on a precipice. The ground shaking underneath.

But she walked on.

There was nothing else for it. No way to survive if they chose to stay still. So she walked, and wrote her letters, and tried to hold on to hope when hope felt impossible. And each day blended to the next.

And before she knew it, two weeks had slipped away.

And it was Friday.

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A/N: This was a hard chapter to write. I think I have avoided writing it for a while, in the same way I have avoided QC-ing it now before posting. It didn't feel as hard when I read it, which was kind of beautiful, I suppose. You guys have my heart here a bit, please be kind.