Severus looked from Harry to Miss Adamson, not entirely sure who he should be paying attention to. Had he missed something in the small amount of time he left the room? Was Harry okay? Surely he would've heard something if his son or the Specialist had called for him.

"Severus," Miss Adamson said, her voice devoid of its earlier cheerfulness. "Please sit down."

Walking around the coffee table, the Potions Master picked up Flurry from her spot at the end of the blanket and set her between Harry's side and the back of the sofa before sitting down by his child's feet. He reached over and peeled the blanket away from Harry's face, only to have Harry grab his wrist.

"You left," the child accused, his pain filled eyes glaring up at him.

"I..." Severus didn't know what to say. He didn't mean to leave his child alone; he just needed to step out for a second. Honestly, Severus didn't think Harry would notice or care since the child seemed hell bent on keeping up his anger towards him. "I'm sorry," the Potions Master ran his free hand through Harry's hair.

"You said I wasn't alone anymore. I needed you, and you weren't here," his child's voice came out as a whisper, but the betrayal felt behind Harry's words spoke louder than if his child had screamed it from atop the Astronomy Tower.

He cursed under his breath. Only a few days into knowingly being Harry's father and he was already failing. How had he done it when his son was a newborn while working towards becoming a Potions Master and spying for the Order?

"I'm sorry," Severus said again. What else could he say? He couldn't undo his actions no matter how much he didn't mean to hurt or disappoint his child.

Harry closed his eyes, never relinquishing his grip on Severus' wrist. "It's not going away. It always goes away."

"Shh," Severus hushed his son before turning to Miss Adamson. "Is there anything else you can give him?"

"The Extra Strength Numbing Salve is safe to use up to four times a day," Miss Adamson flipped through her notes.

"Has it been used before with anyone else with Harry's condition?" Severus asked. He wasn't about to start letting Harry be a lab rat.

"Yes. It's perfectly safe," Miss Adamson confirmed. "If it doesn't work, we can try a nerve block."

Severus summoned the salve from his lab. It wasn't the freshest salve on the shelf, but its potency should still be quite high. He'd brew a fresh batch later, once Harry's pain was under control. The jar floated through the air and Severus caught it before setting it down on the coffee table.

"May I have my wrist back?" his free hand pulled down the blanket to Harry's waist.

"Will it hurt?" the child released his wrist, but stared up at him with fear in his eyes.

"It might tingle a bit while the salve is absorbed into your skin, but I do have to rub it in with my hands. I'll be as gentle as I can, but I can't promise it won't hurt," Severus unscrewed the jar's lid to reveal a thick pink salve.

The Potions Master stood up so Harry could stretch down, realizing how low the sofa was to the ground. He'd never get through applying the cream on his child without needing it on his own back. Severus needed a place for Harry to lie on that was high enough that he didn't have to crouch over to get to.

Surveying the room, Severus pulled out his wand and pointed it at the armchair to their left that was situated near the fireplace. With a swift flick of his wand, he transfigured the armchair into a tall padded table. Another flick and the fire glowed brighter to warm the room for Harry's comfort. He set the jar onto the small table near the fire to warm the salve before crouching down next to his child's head.

"Can you walk, or do you wish for me to carry you?" Severus pushed the silver blanket to the opposite end of the sofa.

"I don't think I'd make it," Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Are there any places that hurt in particular?" he stood and leaned over his son. "Put your arms around my neck."

"My lower back is the worst," Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' neck, his nails digging into Severus' back.

The Potions Master placed one arm around Harry's shoulders and upper back and the other under his knees. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, just pick me up and get it over with."

Frowning at Harry's sharp intake of breath as he picked up his underweight child, Severus brought Harry against his chest and strode over to the transfigured table. He eased Harry down and helped him turn over onto his stomach.

Severus flicked his wand to remove Harry's hoodie and tank top before wandlessly scourgifying his hands and dipping his fingers into the jar to scoop up some salve. "I'm going to start with your back. Try to relax, and if it's too painful, let me know immediately."

"Okay," Harry's hands latched onto the end of the padded table.

"Relax," he repeated, his voice dropping into a soothing tone as he placed his hands onto Harry's upper back. Instead, his son tensed further. "Harry, concentrate on taking deep breaths, ignore everything else."

He kept his hands on Harry's back, but didn't start rubbing the salve in until he felt Harry relax. "That's it," Severus whispered, careful not to press too hard, yet hard enough to make sure the salve absorbed into his child's skin. His hands inched their way down Harry's back, each inch more tentative than the last.

"Stop!" his child cried as his hands reached Harry's lower back.

Removing his hands, Severus took two steps and squatted down so he was eye level with his child.  Glassy, pain filled emerald eyes greeted him. "Harry, I know it hurts, but I need to rub the salve into your lower back."

"Can't you just put a glob of salve on it and let my skin absorb it itself?" Harry whispered.

"You and I both know it won't work," Severus took his child's hand and rubbed the salve into Harry's hand and up his arm. "This isn't bad, is it?"

"No, once the tingling starts, the pain starts to go away," Harry shifted. "It's uncomfortable on my stomach because of the Hickman."

Severus heard the unspoken. Lying on his stomach wasn't only uncomfortable because of the Hickman, but because of the lack of fat surrounding his ribcage.

"May I return to your back then so that you can flip over when I'm done?"

Harry nodded, his free hand reaching towards the end of the table to brace himself for the upcoming pain.

"I'll try to be quick," Severus reached into the jar to scoop out a large glob of salve. "Try to keep your muscles relaxed." He set his hand on Harry's lower back feeling Harry jump underneath him. "Tell me the ingredients you need to make Polyjuice."

"What?" the child squeaked.

"Polyjuice. List the ingredients out loud," Severus repeated as he began to rub the salve into Harry's back.

"Hair from the person who you want to imitate..."

"Go on," Severus encouraged as Harry let out a whimper.

"Boomslang skin...bicorn horn...Are you almost finished?"

"Keep going," the Potions Master rolled the waistbands of Harry's pajama bottoms and boxers down to the start of the child's rear.

"Hey!" Harry reached back and pulled the waistbands back up. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure I get your entire lower back. Remove your hand so I may finish, and you are missing some ingredients," Severus pried Harry's hand off the fabric and rolled the waistbands down once again. "I don't hear you listing."

"I hate you," Harry grumbled before tensing under his hands. "Ow!"

"A few more minutes. I'm almost finished, and I believe we already covered the fact that you hate me quite thoroughly this morning," Severus tried to dismiss Harry's declaration since it was obviously spoken in pain, but it hurt to hear his child say he hated him, even if he wasn't sure Harry meant it. They needed to sit down and have a mature conversation, but like everything else it would have to wait until Harry's pain was managed.

Severus finished rubbing the salve into Harry's back and unrolled the waistbands before Harry could complain again. "I'm finished. Do you need assistance turning over?"

"Yes," Harry spat out.

Ten...nine...Severus counted backwards twice while taking deep breaths to reign in his temper. It wouldn't do either of them any good if he sunk to his teenager's level and fueled the fire. Harry was in pain and suffering from side effects of the chemotherapy treatments, not to mention everything else thrown at him. It was normal for a teenager to vent, and it was better he was letting it out instead of everything festering inside until Harry had another breakdown. Still, Severus cursed the hereditary gods for giving Harry his fiery temper.

The Potions Master helped his child roll over before applying the salve to Harry's front side and limbs, all without saying a word to the teen. If he wasn't going to say anything nice, he wasn't going to say anything at all. Harry could just lie there and pout if he wished to be difficult... or fall asleep. Severus sighed in relief as he noticed his child's breath deepen as he finished with Harry's right leg and pulled the leg of his black and white pajama bottoms back down. The salve must've worked if his child could sleep and hopefully his nap would tame his temper.

Casting a boundaries charm on the table so Harry wouldn't fall off if he moved, Severus walked into the kitchen to wash his hands before returning to the sofa to hear Miss Adamson's diagnosis. He would've moved Harry to his bedroom if he knew he wouldn't wake him in the process, but he had no desire to wake a sleeping dragon. Besides, Harry needed all the rest he could get since he never slept long before something woke him and interrupted his sleep.

-----

Yawning, Harry stretched as he woke up. For once, he felt refreshed and didn't feel like falling back asleep. He was a little stiff, but his pain had all but gone away, and surprisingly, he didn't feel like he was going to hurl if he shifted the wrong way. He was still feeling nauseous, but it was tolerable.

"Good evening," Snape's deep tone greeted him.

Shite! Harry pulled the blanket over his head as the words he said to Snape fluttered back into his mind. Maybe he could convince his body to sleep for a few more hours, anything to delay his impending doom. Why had he been so stupid? He thought he'd gotten away with it when Snape hadn't ripped him a new one, but maybe he was just waiting for Miss Adamson to leave. If so, that didn't bode well for him. Giving the bastard time for his anger to fester was like setting off a time bomb that couldn't be diffused.

"Harry, I know you're awake."

"No, I'm not," Harry protested from under the protection of his blanket.

"Sit up. You need to take your medications, and then we need to talk," Snape pulled the blanket off his head.

"Are you sure about the talking thing?" Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "I mean we've done it quite a bit lately."

"Potter!" Snape snapped. "Or shall I say Mr. Prince."

"What?" his eyes flew open and looked up at his potions master. Prince? Wasn't he really a Snape now that Snape was his father?

"It is one of the many things I wish to discuss with you. Are you going to cooperate or must I treat you like the young child that you're acting like?" Snape raised his eyebrow at him.

"Fine, but only because I want to know why you called me Mr. Prince," Harry pushed himself up to sit and took his glasses from Snape's hand before slipping the frames on his face.

"In time," the Potions Master wrapped an arm around his back. "Careful, it's a bit of a drop."

Harry slid off the edge of the padded table, grateful for Snape's steadying hands. His limbs, especially his legs felt tingly, rather like they had fallen asleep only not quite as severe. The feeling was most likely from the salve, but Harry wasn't sure. It was strange and made it harder to stand.

"Are my legs supposed to feel somewhat numb?" Harry asked, hoping Snape wouldn't give him that look that made him feel stupid for asking a question he should already know.

"It's normal with the amount of salve I used," the Professor helped him over to the sofa. "Further applications shouldn't require as much salve, and the numbness is temporary."

"Okay," Harry averted his eyes to the coffee table that he could no longer see under the parchment that had been spread all over the table. A coffee cup sat on a folded up piece of parchment that had been written on, but apparently wasn't important. He never realized Snape of all people would create such a chaotic mess. Snape seemed like the kind of person who would have perfect, organized stacks without a single piece out of place.

"Lesson plans for next year," the Potions Master explained.

"Can't you use the ones from last year?" Harry eyed the messy lists wondering which list of potions was for his year as he felt the silver blanket draped around his shoulders.

"Normally, yes, but seeing as I'm teaching classes I've never taught before, I have to write new ones," Snape handed Harry the small cup containing his evening pills and a glass of water.

"What?" Harry snapped his head up to look at his professor.

"The Headmaster wished for me to teach Defense next year, but considering I won't be able to carry a full load we reached a compromise. I'll be teaching NEWT Potions and Defense for those who've scored Os on their OWLs." The Potions Master waved his hand, sending all the pieces of parchment to fly together to make one neat stack.

"Because of me, right?" Harry set the cup and glass down on the table. "I'd be fine during the day while you were in class. You don't have to give up the Defense position for me."

"Who said I wanted the Defense position?" Snape countered.

"Well everybody. I mean you apply for it every year," Harry wrapped the blanket around him.

Snape laughed, really laughed, and Harry was sure he was still dreaming. "The Dark Lord believed I applied every year. I wouldn't want to teach Defense any more than I want a Potions class full of Longbottoms. I have no desire to watch teenage miscreants duel each other on a daily basis."

"We don't really duel, just practice the spell we're working on. Well, that's what we did before Umbridge anyways."

"And if I were to pair you and Mr. Malfoy together, would you only use that one spell?" Snape pushed the cup of pills back into his hand. "Take them."

"Point taken," Harry blushed. He took his pills and drained his glass of water.

"Harry, know it was my choice to free up my schedule so I'll be here with you for most of the day," Snape banished the empty pill cup to the kitchen and refilled the glass with more water.

"Right." Harry didn't know what to think. On some level he was happy his professor... father... whatever wanted to be there for him, but he couldn't get past his anger towards the man that could've provided him with a rather normal childhood. He also couldn't help but feel like a burden after years of the Dursleys making him feel guilty for things like needing to eat.

"Before we get to why I addressed you as Mr. Prince, I believe we made a deal that you've yet to fulfill," Snape handed him his grade report.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Harry flipped the envelope over in his hands.

"Yes. You can't run from it forever, and unlike Hagrid's excuse for a text, it doesn't bite," his professor gave his hand a slight squeeze.

"What if it's really bad?" Harry looked up at Snape.

"Then I'll have to call in a few favors from my colleagues. Most of them owe me from allowing a student or two to take NEWT Potions."

"I thought you didn't allow anyone without an O into your NEWT classes," Harry ran his finger along the envelope's seal.

"There's a difference between students who try their hardest and even when seeking out additional help come up a little short, and students who wait until breakfast to finish their essays," Snape gave him a look that meant he knew Harry was often in the latter category. "I have made very few exceptions during my tenure here, and one of the conditions is that the student mustn't reveal I've made an exception for them. I don't want whiny Sixth Years in my office on the first day of term begging to be let into my class."

"You said you'd make an exception for me. I... we both know I'm not the best student," Harry said, hoping the carpet wouldn't be ripped out from under him. He needed Potions to be an Auror.

"No, but you study habits will improve. Furthermore, if I can't show a bit of favoritism towards my son, then who can I show it towards?" Snape paused. "I know you don't accept that yet, but I hope one day you do. As your father, I refuse to let anyone else take up your teaching in Potions."

"Can you not use those words?" Harry breathing picked up. How could Snape use them so effortlessly when he had trouble even thinking them? "Not yet."

"Calm down," Snape wrapped his arms around him and pulled him towards his side. Harry leaned against the Potions Master's side. His body yearned for the comfort despite it being from the person who was causing the problem. "That's it," Snape said as his breathing returned to a normal rate. "I'll refrain from using those words until you're ready."

"Thank you," Harry whispered. He didn't know if he'd ever be comfortable with Snape using those words. He'd always been an orphan, the only thing he knew. It just didn't seem possible that he had a real, breathing biological parent, especially one that seemed to want to be his parent.

"Your grade report?"

"Right," Harry turned the envelope over so the seal was facing him. He slid his trembling finger underneath the flap and broke the Hogwarts seal. "You're sure you want to know?"

"Yes. It's your grade report, not something to fear," the Potions Master supported the under side of Harry's wrists to steady his shaking.

Harry nodded, though he couldn't shake the fear that encompassed him as he pulled the parchment out and unfolded it to display his grades.

Mr. Harry Potter,

Congratulations on completion of your fifth year and OWL examinations. Although your OWL results are forthcoming, your end-of-term grades are a good indicator of what you should expect to receive on your OWLs. We recommend you use this summer to review your scores and the courses required to suit your future career goals. Professor McGonagall will be available the third week of August by appointment to discuss your options. As always, your supply list will be delivered at the end of July.

Have a wonderful holiday,

Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts

Setting the form letter down on the coffee table, Harry gulped as he felt Snape remove his left hand from his wrist and move it to rub his back. "Whatever it says, it's okay."

"I won't be in trouble?" Harry looked up to Snape, remembering Ron's yearly worry over his parents' reactions to his grades.

"No," the Professor shook his head. "I expect that your grades may have dipped considering the past month. However, that doesn't mean I will tolerate poor grades in the future. You will have a study schedule that you will adhere to, and I expect you to seek out myself or another professor if you have trouble with a lesson or assignment."

"What if I don't get the OWL scores I need to take the right NEWT classes to become an Auror?" Harry questioned. He had to be an Auror. It was what everyone expected, and the only thing he had considered doing after completing school.

"As I already stated, I will call in a few favors," Snape's hand stopped. "But ask yourself, do you really wish to be an Auror? Always chasing after bad wizards and risking your life? Working strange hours with little time for your family and following whatever the Ministry deems is best?"

"Everyone expects me to," Harry shrugged. "Besides, what else would I do except play Quidditch? While I love to play, I don't think I want to make it my life."

"You don't owe anyone anything, Harry. This is your life, and you deserve to be happy. Consider that you don't even have to work if that is your wish," Snape's voice took on an angry edge as he took the grade report from Harry's hands and set it down on the coffee table.

"What do you mean? There isn't enough left in my vault to live off of for the rest of my life," Harry blinked in confusion. If he estimated right, he had enough to finish Hogwarts and have a little left over for a few months' rent, but that was all.

"Your vault is not the only Potter vault," Snape sighed, and Harry looked at the floor. How was he supposed to know he had more than one vault? "Have you never asked for a full accounting from Gringotts?"

Harry shook his head. Why hadn't anyone told him about any of this? What even was a full accounting?

"Your vault was set up as an allowance of sorts much like most wealthy wizarding families set up for their children. A certain amount is deposited monthly or yearly and the child is expected to learn how to use it wisely, or as in your case, a family places an amount once into a vault that's sufficient enough to last the child until he finishes school," Snape explained, making Harry feel stupid for not knowing the basic customs of wizarding society.

"Look at me," Snape cupped Harry's chin, nudging his chin up until they were eye-to-eye. "It's not your fault that you don't know. The next time we are at Gringotts, we will ask for a full accounting of your vaults. You are far from a poor wizard. In addition to the numerous Potter vaults, you will most likely inherit something from your godfather, and excuse me for using these words as I said I wouldn't yet, but you are also my heir."

"Oh," Harry tried to look away, but the Potions Master's hand on his chin prevented him. He'd never been comfortable discussing money, and at times it was worse since he'd come to Hogwarts considering he couldn't really talk about it around Ron.

"I'll ask again. Do you really wish to be an Auror?"

"Yes...I don't know.... no," Harry felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder. Snape of all people was assuring him he was his own person, not a robot that must do what people told or expected him to. "I don't know what else to do..."

"You don't need to know now or even by the time you finish school. You could spend a few years traveling, get a degree at a Muggle university, open a shop, the possibilities are endless," Snape handed Harry his grade report before letting go of his chin. "You've stalled long enough."

"Alright," Harry looked down at the parchment. His hands were still trembling, but he felt that even if all his grades were Ts, it would be okay. And, Harry let his lips turn the tiniest bit up when he remembered that McGonagall that already told him he got an E in Transfiguration. He had at least passed one class.

Astronomy - P

Care of Magical Creatures - E

Charms - A

Defense Against the Dark Arts - D

Divination - D

Herbology - E

History of Magic - T

Potions - A

Transfiguration - E

Harry smiled. Despite failing four out of nine classes, he had passed Potions! "I passed?" he jumped up only to fall back onto the sofa when his legs weren't ready to support him. "Really?"

"Yes," Severus confirmed and took the grade report from Harry's hand. "I must admit that I expected worse. I think we can both agree to ignore the pathetic excuse that is your Defense grade?"

"Definitely," Harry's smile grew wider. "Can I floo Ron? He won't believe I passed Potions!"

"Ron may visit for a couple hours if you wish, though it would be best if I flooed him for you," Severus looked him up and down before waving his hand and Harry felt a black long-sleeved henley wrap itself around his upper body. "Might I suggest you freshen up while I floo call Mrs. Weasley and ask if Ron can visit?"

"Right," Harry stood up with Severus' help and pushed his infusion pump into his bathroom. He looked into the mirror and laughed. No wonder his professor suggested he freshen up. His hair was pushed up on the right side to form a weird one-sided Mohawk and the skin on the right side of his face was pink and mirrored the pattern of the padded table he had fallen asleep on. Harry washed his face, brushed his hair, and even brushed his teeth for good measure. Nothing else mattered at the moment, not his paternity, his cancer, the weird nerve thing, nothing! He passed Potions!