Early the next morning before Harry woke, Severus left his quarters after giving Minerva last minute instructions. He felt refreshed after an uneventful night. Harry had woken once around three after a mild nightmare concerning the upcoming intrathecal chemo injection, but within twenty minutes his son was reassured and asleep once again. So far, it was a good day and if the sunny skies were any indication as he walked towards the gates, luck just might be on their side for once.

Severus took his time to reach the apparition boundary. It seemed like he'd been holed up insides for weeks rather than a few days and the warm sun on his skin combined with a light breeze spreading the smell of blooming flowers reminded him why he used to spend most of his summers outdoors as a child. Despite his reputation as the dungeon bat, Severus enjoyed warm summer days and even cold, crisp winter ones. He didn't mind being surrounded by nature, perhaps because of his untraditional upbringing.

If the day stayed nice enough and Harry felt up to it, a short visit to the staff courtyard might be in order. With a few precautions, it would be safe, and it would be good for Harry to get outside for a while and out of the dungeons. The child needed a taste of the life Severus promised to show him once he completed his leukemia treatment as a reminder to keep fighting.

Reaching the gates, Severus stopped his mind from wandering. Outside the protected walls of Hogwarts he was a wanted man for his betrayal and needed to be on high alert. He couldn't let a Death Eater capture or kill him. His son couldn't handle it, not so soon after Black's death in combination with everything else. It was amazing Harry was handling everything as well as he was though Harry's emotions were bound to catch up with him at some point. One breakdown wasn't enough to heal his child's mental wounds, it just applied the bandages and only time would tell what triggers would rip those off one by one.

Severus passed through the gates, his mind and body ready for a sudden attack. He reset the wards before striding to the apparition barrier and apparating away to an alley in Muggle London where he blended into the crowd until he reached a small office supplies store.

"Hello. Is there anything I can help you with today?" a university aged girl asked from behind the counter as he entered the small shop.

"I'm looking for some pens and pencils for my son," Severus walked towards the counter on his left. While he used pencils frequently to make notes in his potions journal, he couldn't remember the last time he used a regular old Muggle pen.

"How old is he?" she led him to an aisle full of pens.

"Almost sixteen," Severus eyed the numerous selections wondering which ones would be the easiest for Harry to control.  "He's having trouble with his hands, and so I'm trying to find writing utensils that are easy for him to control and comfortable in his hand."

"What kinds have you tried?"

"He usually uses a fountain pen," Severus supplied. "It's required by his boarding school, and he just returned home." The Potions Master chose his words carefully, not wishing to raise suspicions of any kind.

"It's hard to know exactly what will work best for him, but I have a few suggestions. A large barrel pen would be a good place to start. He won't have to squeeze his hand so tight and with gel ink he shouldn't have to press as hard," the girl handed him a package of pens. "There's some with soft grips that some people like and some don't."

"And they are?" Severus scanned the shelves.

"Right here," the girl pointed to a row on Severus' left. "Let me get you a basket," she walked away.

The Potions Master picked up a pack of pens that contained the softer grip. The packaging promised a smooth writing experience with a comfort grip. He was sure Harry would put that to the test.

Severus felt somewhat lost in the sea of pens. Who knew that there were so many to choose from? He scanned the rows filled with pens of every size and color picking up a package of miniature pens along with a pack that contained not just black ink but blue, red, and green. Something out of his selection had to work.

"Let's stick those in here," the girl returned and motioned to the small hand basket. "Are you ready to select some pencils?"

"Yes," he took the basket from her and followed her to the next aisle where she led him to a brightly colored section.

"People with problems in their hands have said that these bigger pencils like the ones used in nursery school are easier to use. I've had people say they're even easier to control when you cut them about halfway down and sharpen from that point," she handed him a pack filled with large yellowish-orange pencils that came with a free sharpener. "Another option is to buy grips that slide on to your everyday pencil."

"Thank you," Severus accepted the package of pencils and knelt down to inspect the selection of pencil grips.

"I'll be at the counter if you need anything else. Just yell. I'll be able to hear you," she smiled before leaving him to browse by himself.

Severus selected two packages of pencil grips, one was a smaller but thicker type of grip while the other one looked like a long tube with ridges on the side. He stood up and scanned what was obviously the children's school supply section. There were crayons and although Severus didn't know if Harry enjoyed any type of art, he picked the largest box to aid in Harry's altered Potions curriculum. He couldn't have Harry brewing Potions, but he could make the child draw the ingredients and create an illustrative how to for each potion. Next to the box of crayons were some weird colored stones that claimed they were crayons and Severus picked those up, too. After selecting a few other items he thought Harry could use for his studies, Severus took the filled basket up to the counter and paid for his purchases.

The large department store he had taken Harry to was up the street a few blocks and that was his next stop. With Black's memorial Tuesday, Harry needed a new outfit, not to mention new clothes. His child's Muggle clothes had appalled Severus when he checked Harry's wardrobe for an appropriate outfit for the memorial before he left. He headed upstairs to the boy's section upon arrival knowing it was fruitless to even look in the men's section.

Severus spotted a wall filled with khakis and strode over to it, figuring it was the best place to start. However, once he got there he was more confused than at the office supply store. He expected the number sizes instead of the basic small, medium, and large, but did the size numbers correlate to a child's age or was it some random assigned number? He picked up a light tan pair of the largest size available, which was a size 14. The length looked okay, but the waist looked too big for his underweight child.

"May I help you?" an older lady with Martha written on her nametag asked.

"I'm looking to buy an outfit for my nephew," Severus refused to admit he didn't know his child's size, "and I'm unsure which size to buy."

"How old is he?" Martha gave him an amused smile.

"He turns sixteen next month."

"Oh dear, you're lost indeed. Let me show you to the men's section," she turned to lead him downstairs but Severus stood his ground.

"I'm sure I'm in the right place," he growled and draped the khakis over his arm. "My nephew is short and ill."

"I'm sorry, sir," Martha backtracked and pulled out a laminated size chart. "How tall is he, and how much does he weigh?"

"5'4" and he weighs 6 stone 6 pounds," Severus recited from yesterday morning's daily check.

"Your nephew will be tricky to fit without him here," she studied the chart. "His height puts him at a 14 year, but his weight bumps him down one or two sizes. The waists of theses trousers do come with an adjustable waist inside, but I don't think that'll be enough. Let me see if I can find a 12 or 13 long. We don't normally carry them, but sometimes we get one or two sent to us."

A 12, and apparently the sizes were supposed to correlate with a child's age? Severus shook his head. There was no way he was going to let his child know he needed a size that was for boys four years younger than he was. He'd use a simple spell to change the size on the tags before giving them to his son.

"Here," Martha handed him two pairs of khakis. "The black pair is a 13 long and the light tan is a 12 long. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, but thank you," Severus unfolded the trousers and held them up for inspection. They looked closer to something that would fit his child, and since Harry was in need of clothing, he'd buy both pairs and any minor alterations could be done with a tailoring spell. Severus draped the pants over his arm before moving to a rack of button down shirts.

It took him an hour and a half but Severus finally left the store with five large shopping bags. What was an intended stop for a few things turned into obtaining enough clothing to last Harry for the summer and more linens and towels to add to the small amount they already acquired.

Stepping into an alley, Severus shrunk his bags and tucked them into his black trouser pocket. He had two stops left to make before heading into Diagon Alley to pick up a new cloak for his son, a few potions ingredients, and stopping at Gringotts to get a full accounting of the vaults in Harry's name. He was hungry and tired of shopping, but Severus trudged on, determined to finish his errands in a timely manner. Harry would expect him back soon, and Severus didn't wish to disappoint his child.

*~AIE~*

Harry sat at the dinner table with his Potions text and parchment out to continue taking notes. He had more space to spread out than at his desk, and he felt like he'd been spending all his time in his room. Tracing his finger under a line of text, Harry wrote down the properties of each part of a dandelion at a turtle's pace. It was hard to keep his hand secured around his quill, and he had to force his quill to make the strokes that until now he hadn't thought about since nursery school. He sighed as another a's tail swooped down long enough to look like a slanted q.

"Need a break?" McGonagall asked from her spot at the head of the table with Flurry on her lap. She was grading his essay that Harry had rewritten and corrected after Severus left it on top of his books full of comments and suggestions that helped rather than leaving snide comments that pointed out everything wrong but not why it was wrong.

"I'm ready to crush my quill into dust and turn it into potions ingredients," he glared at his quill, willing it to burst into flames. He could smell something burning and then a second later his quill levitated off the table and burst into a small fireball.

"Aguamenti!" McGonagall brandished her wand, dousing the quill with water and putting out the fire. The quill, now a burnt pile of ashes fell down onto the table. "Whatever did that poor quill do to you, Mr. Potter?"

"It refused to cooperate, but I didn't mean to really set it on fire," Harry sighed. Did this mean that his magic was returning, but still wonky and prone to accidental bouts of magic like before he entered Hogwarts.

"It seems you're ready for non-verbal wandless spells," she laughed. "I always knew you were powerful, but your classmates will be jealous when they're struggling with non-verbal spells this fall."

"You mean it's not from my magic going all strange and not working?" Harry sat up a little straighter.

"I doubt it, Harry. It's likely your magical core has recovered from its depletion and you've become a little jealous yourself with seeing all the non-verbal wandless spells Professor Snape uses," his professor took a small piece of spare parchment from his stack and transfigured it into a quill.

"You mean you notice it, too?" he looked at the transfigured quill with an evil eye. He was tired of writing with an instrument that refused to follow his directions.

"Professor Snape is a very powerful wizard, more powerful than I am though I hate to admit it, and I'd bet on him being just about or as powerful as Dumbledore and Voldemort though of course I expect you to keep your mouth shut on this for once," McGonagall gave him a stern look. "I doubt even Voldemort knows Severus' true potential, and it would be best he never finds out."

"Really?" Harry asked, awed that anyone would be on the same level as the Headmaster and Voldemort, especially Severus...his father. "Does that mean if Professor Snape has a child, the child will be really powerful, too?"

"Harry," McGonagall bit her lip to keep from laughing, "As I said before you are a powerful wizard, and while I can't say for certain, I see some of the same magical capabilities in you as I saw in your father when he was your age."

"You know?" he whispered.

"Yes. Your father asked me to sit in on his discussion with the Headmaster yesterday. In my opinion, it's a good thing for both of you, and you'd do well to embrace what's right in front of you," she moved the quill into the center of the table.

"But... but he hated me for five years!"

"Severus is a good man, Harry. He never truly hated you. He wouldn't have protected you if he had. I'm not telling you what to think or decide, but know that the man who's been taking care of you this past week and a half is the real Severus," she squeezed his hand. "Now, see if you can destroy this quill the same way as the other."

"But I don't know how I did it." Harry was glad for the change of subject. He didn't feel comfortable talking about his biological relation to Severus, especially when he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Some people need to think the incantation and others need to concentrate on the desired result. I think it's safe to assume you're the latter," the Deputy Headmistress motioned for him to concentrate on the quill. "Go on. Concentrate on the hatred you had for the other quill not cooperating with you and how you want it to burst into flame."

Harry stared at the quill, blaming the cramp in his hand on the stupid quill. If only it sat in his hand right and remained balanced...and maybe not so thin so he didn't have to squeeze his hand tight around it. It was evil. Harry never wanted to see another quill. He could accomplish so much more if he didn't have to write slower than a five year old.

The same burning smell flittered into his nose before his eyes saw a small spark of fire. He kept up his hatred for the quill, willing it to burst into flames and be gone forever. The quill levitated off the table, and the fire grew, engulfing the quill.

"Aguamenti," McGonagall's wand sent out a jet of water. "Excellent, Harry!"

Blinking, he watched the quill's ashes flutter down onto the table to join the previous quill's ashes. "That's it?" Had he really performed a non-verbal wandless spell? It seemed too easy.

"That was it, but don't expect it always to be this easy," she shook her head with a smile on her face. "You had more than sufficient hatred for that quill. It won't be as easy to cast when your emotions aren't fueling your spells, but it's a wonderful start."

"Can everyone cast non-verbal wandless spells?" Harry traced his finger through the small ash pile.

"No. For most wizards and witches it's quite the accomplishment to master one or two non-verbal incantations, never mind wandless," she vanished the ashes.

"Hey!" Harry snapped his head up. "I wasn't finished with my pattern."

"Severus would have my hide if he came home to see you playing in ashes," McGonagall aimed a Scourgify at his hand.

"What ashes?" Severus asked as he shut the door behind him. "Can I not leave you two Gryffindors alone without blowing up the place?"

"Severus, Harry cast his first non-verbal wandless spell," McGonagall twisted around in her chair.

"You did?" Harry saw Severus' eyes twinkle, not as obvious as Dumbledore's, but a small twinkle just for him. A smile spread on Harry's face. Severus was proud of him.

"I set my quill on fire," Harry explained. "The first time it just happened, and then Professor McGonagall had me try it again, and I did it!"

"That's great news, child," Severus crossed the room and ruffled his hair. "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

"Not yet. I've been busy with my Potions notes," he waved his hand towards his book and notes.

"Clear your spot so we can eat and then you can see what I've brought you back," the Potions Master pulled some miniaturized bags out of his pocket and with a wave of his hand ten bags stood on the floor in a straight line.

"Those are for me?" Harry's eyes widened. No one had ever given him that much stuff before. Not even on their shopping trip had they come back with ten bags. In fact, if he didn't count his schoolbooks, all his belongings wouldn't fill those bags. Harry knew he should feel guilty that Severus spent so much on him, but he couldn't help but feel giddy, like he'd always imagined a proper Christmas morning to be, only this wasn't Christmas or any other occasion that warranted a celebration. Severus bought this stuff for him because he wanted to.

"Mostly, but lunch first," he nodded towards the table. "Minerva, will you be joining us?"

"Thank you, Severus, but I need to go see the Headmaster about next year's schedule. He keeps insisting on scheduling my NEWT classes right after NEWT Care of Magical Creatures and the students never have enough time to make it back from outside and up to my classroom before class begins," McGonagall winked at Harry as she stood up causing Flurry to jump down and saunter across the floor to inspect the bags.

"Good luck on getting the Headmaster to change the schedule. You know he hasn't made a change to the master schedule in years."

Harry tuned out his professors' chatter, staring at the bags and wondering what were in them. Even though the bags were from different stores, they all had carrying handles and were open on top, but Severus had charmed the tops so the only thing Harry saw was black when he tried to peek inside.

"Eat," Severus placed a plate containing half a grilled cheese sandwich, a bowl of tomato soup, and a bowl of cinnamon applesauce along with a glass of grape juice in front of him.

"Where did the groceries come from?" Harry didn't remember seeing his professor have any other bags when he walked in.

"Were you concentrating so hard on your studies that you failed to hear a house-elf pop in and put away the groceries while I was gone?" the Potions Master set down his own plate before walking over to the cabinet and retrieving two pills. "Here, take these."

"What are they?" Harry looked at the small purple pills with an M in the middle of a square that rested in his left hand. He hadn't had to take medications at lunch before.

"Morphine," Severus sat down across from him. "Since you're not hooked up to your IVs, you're not getting the morphine delivered through your system by the PCA pump, so you have to take it orally."

"Oh, right," Harry popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them, not sure if he liked knowing which pills were the morphine ones. It somehow seemed more real taking the pills. He never saw the morphine enter his system through the IV, just felt the effects, but with the pills he had to physically handle and swallow them. Harry shivered. He would not get addicted to them, wouldn't need to rely on them to get through his day.

"Harry?" Severus squeezed his left hand. "It's okay."

"How long do I have to take morphine?" Harry picked up his spoon and swirled it around in his soup.

"Once this week of chemo is over, we'll taper your dosage off until you either don't need it or if you're still experiencing pain, the lowest dosage possible to still alleviate your pain. You won't become addicted," his professor assured him.

"But what if I do?" he starting swirling his spoon in a figure eight pattern.

"Can you break through my wards?"

"What?" Harry looked up to meet Severus' dark eyes.

"The cabinet is warded. You're unable to break in and take extra pills," he flicked his wand and glowing webs of various colors encircled the cabinet. "Trust me, child. I won't let you become addicted."

"How did you know it was time for another dose?" Harry's left hand fidgeted under Severus'.

"The medication schedule in the hallway automatically updates and alerts me when you need to take something."

"Oh," Harry felt stupid. Of course, the answer would be magic. Sometimes he wondered if he'd ever think like a wizard and not like a Muggle who could perform magic.

"As much I appreciate you practicing your figure eight stirring technique, please stop playing with your food and eat," Severus squeezed his hand one more time before letting go and starting in on his plate.

"Sorry," Harry blushed, taking his spoon out of the soup bowl before picking up his sandwich.

"Apology accepted. Now, eat or you'll never know what's in those bags," the Professor teased.

Harry nodded, forgetting about the morphine pills as his mind drifted back to the mysterious contents inside the bags. He bit into his sandwich, determined not to say another word until he finished eating.

*~AIE~*

Hermione stared at the letter in front of her as a tear rolled down her cheek. Her best friend had cancer. Harry, the boy who never caught a break, now had leukemia to battle. She should've known, should've suspected something was wrong when she'd gotten that first letter from Ron telling her it was a mistake. But it was so easy to believe, maybe because that's what she wanted.

"Hermione," her mother called up to her. "I brought us lunch."

Setting down the letter and wiping away her tears, Hermione stood up and trekked down the stairs to the kitchen despite not feeling the least bit hungry. "Mum," she ran across the kitchen to her mother, her mum's arms engulfing her in a hug.

"Oh, Hermione," she wiped the fresh tears off Hermione's cheeks. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Harry has cancer," Hermione cried. "He's got ALL leukemia, which I know has a very good survival rate-"

"Yet that fact doesn't make it any better," her mother led her to sofa in the living room. "Harry will be okay, you'll see. You have to trust that the adults in charge of his care are doing the best they can, and neither they nor Harry need you to spend the whole summer researching the latest treatment methods," her mother warned.

"But Mum, what if they miss something?" Hermione slid forward to the edge of the sofa.

"No you don't," her mum pulled her down. "You're Harry's friend and that's what he needs. Not someone else telling him about the current studies going on, or some strange diet that people swear made them better."

"What if he doesn't want to see me anymore? He hasn't returned my letter, and he hid from Ron and me at the end of term," she bit her lip.

"Hermione, imagine being told that you had cancer. Whatever you're feeling now, Harry felt it, only it was one hundred times worse for him," she pushed a few stray locks behind Hermione's ear. "Give him some time and space to come to terms with it, and when it's time be the reliable friend that you are to him. In fact, he'd probably love to hear you nagging him about not finishing his summer homework yet."

"Really?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Why don't we change into our pajamas, grab the ice cream from the freezer and throw in Dirty Dancing? Then later tonight you can write your friends after it's sunk in a bit."

"Okay," Hermione sniffled as she unwrapped herself from her Mum's arms and stood up.

"I expect you back in five minutes. No stopping to research," her mother looked at her watch.

"Okay, Mum," Hermione sighed but knew her mum was right. If she weren't being timed she'd be too tempted to start searching through her wizarding books on healing for any mentions of a wizard or witch having cancer.

*~AIE~*

After the dishes were cleared, Harry followed Severus into the sitting room where he sat on the end of the sofa that was closest to the hall and kitchen, which was quickly becoming his spot. He pulled his legs up and crossed them, anxious to start digging through the numerous bags.

"Before you start, remember that you owe me nothing," Severus said, his voice stern as he held a bag just out of Harry's reach.

He nodded, his eyes fixated on the colorful bag.

"Take your time," Severus passed him the bag. "We have all day."

Harry set the bag on his left side before pulling his legs under him so he could kneel. He reached in and pulled out the first thing his hand hit, not knowing what it was since his professor hadn't removed the charm from the top of the bag. He felt plastic on one side and cardboard on the other. Once his hand cleared the top of the bag, Harry finally saw the pack of pens.

"Can I use these to do my work?" He'd never been happier to see a pack of Muggle pens. They had to be better than a quill to write with.

"Yes," Severus nodded. "I'll be talking with your professors so they understand why you're using pen and paper instead, and it shouldn't be an issue."

"Thank you," he smiled and dug back into the bag. He pulled out a few more packs of pens, pencils, and notebook paper, loving that everything was brand new, not Dudley's left over supplies from the previous year. "What are these?" Harry pulled out a bag of colorful stones.

"It says they're crayons. I have a few ideas for your alternative Potions curriculum. Instead of brewing a potion, I may have you draw out the procedure using the correct colors as an illustrative brewing guide. That is unless you'd rather write more essays," the Potions Master raised his eyebrow.

"No," Harry shook his head. "That reminds me of some of the activities we did in primary school. For reading, we'd sometimes have to draw some pictures to show what happened in the story."

"Did you enjoy it?" Severus summoned a cup of coffee.

"It was okay," he shrugged. "My crayons were always broken into little pieces by Dudley and his friends."

"The only enemy your crayons have here is Flurry. I wouldn't be surprised to see one of the normal crayons rolling across the floor as her new toy," the Professor rolled his eyes.

"There's more crayons?" Harry dug into the bag.

"Eight colors are not nearly enough. I can't have you remembering a brewing stage as purple when it's actually lavender."

Harry smiled. Maybe Potions wouldn't be so bad with an alternative curriculum. In addition to a large box of crayons, he found a pack of highlighters, post-it notes, flags, white unlined paper, paper clips, pencil grips, and a small stapler.

"Organization is a key to receiving high marks," Severus passed him the next bag; its charmed removed so Harry could see a handful of binders and dividers lining the bag. "A different color binder for each subject to keep your notes and assignments in an orderly fashion."

"Thanks!" Harry placed everything back into the first bag so he didn't create a huge mess. He had supplies to fill the drawers in his desk now, and the binder idea sounded like a good one. He was always mixing up his notes and could never find the right ones.

"Don't take offense, but I took the liberty of perusing your wardrobe this morning and noticed you were in need of some new attire," Severus set four bags on the floor in front of him. "If the sizing is a bit off I can alter them like I did with your silk pajamas."

Harry pulled on his sleeves. While he loved his new pajamas and loungewear, he felt awkward and embarrassed that his professor, err father noticed how big and faded his everyday clothes were to the point that he went out and bought Harry a new wardrobe. "You really didn't have to. My clothes are fine."

"Child, they'd fall off you now since they were already big to begin with," Severus sighed, moving over from the chair to sit besides Harry. "Don't you think you deserve to have nice clothes that fit you?"

"Nobody ever cared before," he shrugged. Part of him wanted to sift through the bags of clothing and burn his old ones, but his Aunt Petunia's voice echoed through his head reminding him that freaks like him didn't get new clothes and that he was lucky enough to have clothes at all.

"I do," the Potions Master reached into a bag and pulled out three pairs of jeans and set them in Harry's lap. "I wasn't sure which style you preferred."

"Why?" he pulled off the size strip from the top pair of jeans and rolled it up.

"Why what?" Severus grabbed the sticker out of his hand and placed his other hand under Harry's chin, forcing him to look up at man that Harry wasn't sure who he wanted him to be.

"Why do you care?" Harry whispered.