Chapter Twelve: Part One
Bad Luck Rising

Hermione left James' office that day with a smile on her gaunt face. She was free from fortnightly blood tests, so she could relax for an entire month before she needed to start preparing herself. Just in case. She pulled her beanie down at the back and sides to hide her patchy hair, and made her way slowly to the coffee shop just near the alleyway. She ordered a coffee and sat down by the window and watched everyone walking past. There were elderly couples, still in love, and teenagers fighting. Babies being pushed in prams, and carried in arms. There were dogs and bike riders, and people dressed in suits. She wondered if she would ever be one of those people. Would she and Ron live to be in their 70's? Would they reach 100? Would they reach it together or alone? She wondered if she could still have children, and when she wanted them. Would she ever have the energy to walk a dog or ride a bike again? Would she and Ron ever feel less threatened of the future to be able to fight? The thoughts that kept flowing in and out of her thoughts removed the smile that only a few moments ago was on her face. Now, her mouth was turned down at the corners. She was frowning, deep in thought.

The slight descent of her cushioned bench alerted her that someone had sat down. She kept looking out of the window until an arm wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her closer. The familiarity of that arm, and the warmth coming from him told her who it was. Smiling, she turned and said "How come you came to find me?"
"I wanted to know what was happening. I was waiting in the alleyway and saw you walk in here. How is everything?" Ron asked.
"He... wants to stretch me to monthly tests," she said, still very nervous of the extended time. She was convinced he was wrong in clearing her.
"Hermione that's wonderful!" Ron exclaimed, a big smile spreading over his face. "Why do you look so.. unhappy?"
She looked down and shrugged. "I'm scared it's just too long between tests. I just have a feeling something will come up and I felt more secure with fortnightly tests. But now I need to wait for the news once a month."
Shaking his head, he lifted her face with his hand and said "Hermione you need to start trusting him. He knows your case better than anyone. If he says it's time for monthly tests, then it's time. I'm sure if he was concerned that something would show up then he wouldn't stretch them."
She finished her coffee and gave him a brief kiss. "I just need time to settle into it, I suppose."
He nodded, finally glad she was seeing sense, and stood up. He extended his hand to her, to help her stand, and she gladly took it. They walked out of the cafe, hand in hand, down to their alleyway where, for the past few months, they had either been smiling or crying. It was the alleyway of their secrets, and the deep feelings they couldn't, and wouldn't tell each other. He didn't want to worry her, and she didn't want him to worry.
They spun on the spot and landed safely on their back doorstep. Ron held the door open and walked her through to the lounge room and settled her on the couch before he went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. He was leaning over the sink, deep in thought. Why was Hermione so frightened? What was she feeling that made her scared it was too long of a time gap? He was about to turn around to question her when he heard a faint tap tap tap on the window. It was one of the Weasley Owls. He opened the window and the owl flew in and dropped the letter on the table, and flew back out.
"Stupid thing," Ron muttered. He fixed the two mugs of tea and walked through to Hermione to hand it to her. "Hermione, tell me why you are so worried. Do you feel okay?"

Hermione took his mug and thought about how to respond. Did he think she felt sick again? "The drugs have really mushed up my insides. Of course I don't feel okay. I just want to have enough energy to get out of bed in the morning without help, and I'm sick of having to take three naps during the day because I can't keep my eyes open," she said, starting to raise her voice. She stood up quickly, feeling light headed, swaying on the spot. Ron stood up to help her steady but she pushed herself away and walked up the stairs, a bit quicker than she ever had in the past few months. She reached the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. What was going on? Why was she taking her fear out on Ron? It wasn't his fault. She sat down on the edge of the bath and started to cry. She was so scared that the cancer would come back. If it did, she knew it would be even harder to treat which would probably mean worse side effects and longer recovery. Well, that was IF she would recover. What if the treatment just did nothing? What if just one cancer cell was being produced right now? Then in one month it had spread. That would be one month of that cancer having free space throughout her body with no drugs. One month, what would her prognosis be? How could James change the times when she was so scared? She felt so confused, and had so many questions buzzing in her mind. She climbed into the dry bathtub and fell asleep.

What was wrong? Ron paced up and down the corridor outside the bathroom trying to find the words he needed to give her. But he had none. He didn't know anything about what she was feeling, she never told him. He didn't know anything about Cancer, still, or the treatment, or why James had stretched her blood testing times, or anything. He just had no idea. Giving up, he turned around and walked downstairs. He cleaned up the mugs and cleaned the kitchen. When he turned to try talking to Hermione again he noticed the letter. "Forgot about you..." he muttered. He picked it up and unrolled it.

"Ron, Hermione, please come over. Something has happened..." wrote his mother.