Severus blinked. Cancer was nearly unheard of in the wizarding world. The very few cases happened to children under the age of four before a child's magic developed enough to shield them from most Muggle diseases, and all of the recorded cases were Muggleborns. Harry was neither of those two. Poppy must've done something wrong while casting the diagnostic spell.

Casting the spell over the blood sample again, Severus waited for the results. It would take a few minutes for the spell to produce results and in the meantime Severus thought over how Potter could possibly have cancer. While Potter wasn't Muggleborn, the Potters had died while Potter was a baby, leaving the child somewhat vulnerable according to some theories. Those theorists believed a child's parents' magic extended protection to the child through contact and lingering magic. But it still didn't explain Potter's case. Potter was fifteen, not four.

The potions master tapped his fingertips against the worktable waiting for the gold lettering to appear. He hated the unexplainable. It went against everything he knew. Everything should be explainable one way or another. Even the possession of magic was explained, one just had to choose which theory they believed.

Then again, half the things Potter survived couldn't be explained through anything but sheer dumb luck. It was one of the things that infuriated Severus about the brat, the brat he had the fortune of protecting. And if the child did indeed have leukemia, how was Severus supposed to protect him then? He couldn't threaten to hex cancer into oblivion or chop into potions ingredients. The disease didn't care. It was practically intangible.

With a soft chime the results popped into the air. Severus clenched down his occlumency shields refusing to let whatever the results read to affect him. Someone had to take control and keep calm for Potter's sake. Poppy proved she couldn't, Minerva likely didn't know what cancer even was, and Albus, well, he wouldn't put it past the Headmaster to say something that scared the boy without meaning to or assume that with a potion or two Potter would be just fine.

Severus gripped the edge of the worktable and took a deep breath before looking up. That cursed word floated in sparkling gold lettering just like it had for Poppy. His knees threatened to buckle, but Severus willed his body to obey him. He couldn't react. As much as he hated the thought, the boy needed him, the cold potions master, not a panicked professor.

He reminded himself that although the diagnostic spell was ninety-eight percent accurate, there was a small chance Potter didn't have leukemia. A bone marrow biopsy was needed for confirmation and to discover which type of leukemia they were dealing with. There was a chance, and if there were anyone who defied all odds, it was Potter.

With that thought, Severus steeled his face behind his mask and walked out of Poppy's office to see Potter curled up on his side, facing away from Minerva. Those brilliant emerald eyes that pained Severus to look at appeared unfocused, a sign Potter was withdrawing into himself. Not that it surprised him. The child had more than enough to deal with without today's events.

He wondered who was going to tell the boy. Severus didn't know if he could look into those eyes and tell the child his life was about to change drastically. A potion or two couldn't cure cancer; none existed to even treat the symptoms. It required Muggle treatments, all of which were more than unpleasant. And as much as he wished to hex Potter some days, he never wished cancer or its treatments on the child. No child, no matter how infuriating, deserved that.

"Severus?" Minerva asked looking for answers.

"It showed nothing definitive," Severus answered, twisting the truth. It would be remiss to inform Potter until the bone marrow results came in and with them a certainty of diagnosis. "I need to speak with Albus concerning the next test. Will you be fine here with Potter?"

"I do know how to watch over a child, Severus," Minerva retorted, "Go speak with the Headmaster. The sooner we know the better." She tilted her head towards their student. Severus understood her unspoken words. She wasn't sure how much more the child could take either.

Severus nodded, walking over to floo to the Headmaster's office. He'd rather walk, but wanted to get there before Poppy and Albus came crashing into the Hospital Wing. "Headmaster's Office - Hogwarts," Severus called out as he was whisked away.

Panicked voices greeted Severus.

"Are you sure, Poppy?" Albus asked the mediwitch who stood pacing in front of Albus' desk.

"I reran the test," Severus interjected causing his colleagues to turn their eyes on him. "It produced the same results."

Albus nodded as his shoulders slumped and the twinkle disappeared from his eyes. "This certainly changes things. I had hoped Harry would be ready to face Voldemort by next summer."

"Is that what this is to you? An inconvenience?" Severus snapped, disgusted. "Potter could very well die, and you're thinking about the Dark Lord? He is a child, Albus, a very sick child! He is not some weapon to use at a designated time!" Severus waved his hand to prove his point, his magic sending Albus' trinkets crashing to the floor. He hadn't meant to do that, but the clattering sounds sure did sound good.

"But the prophecy!" Albus defended, stepping forward from behind his desk, ignoring the mess his office became for the second time in as many weeks.

"Forget the bloody prophecy and think about what's best for Potter!" Severus demanded, slamming his fist against the Headmaster's desk.

"Now, Severus, you cannot mess with prophecy. We'll just have to get Harry well as quick as we can. I'm sure you know a potion that at the very least will stop it from spreading until Voldemort is defeated."

Severus' jaw dropped. Was this the same Headmaster who practically spoiled his golden boy rotten by giving him ways to circumvent the rules? "You don't understand, Albus! Leukemia, it cannot go untreated. It's a blood cancer, and it's already affecting the boy. Furthermore, there is no potion that can stop or treat it."

"What do you mean affecting him? If he needs to lessen his course load next year, we can accommodate that."

"Hasn't Poppy informed you? Potter's magical levels are dropping and his magic is failing him," Severus said enjoying the surprised look on the Headmaster's face.

"No, she did not mention that. Only something about a bone marrow biosphere and an inquiry if the Potter funds were sufficient enough to cover Harry's care."

That's right. Poppy was there. "Poppy, you still maintain your contacts with people at St. Mungo's, correct?" Severus turned to the mediwitch who had backed up into the corner, away from them.

"Yes, Severus."

"Good, then might I suggest you use your contacts to try to get someone who will come to Hogwarts to perform Potter's bone marrow biopsy today?" Severus motioned to the floo.

"Yes, that sounds best. I'll be back as soon as I can. Headmaster, the procedure will need a guardian's signature," Poppy said before fleeing to the safety of the floo.

"Is this all necessary?" Albus asked resigned.

"I'm afraid so," Severus answered, feeling himself deflate, but still on his guard.

"What is this cancer leukemia thing?"

"It's a Muggle disease that affects the body at a cellular level. There's no exact cure per se, but rather treatment that hopefully induces remission, or a lack of cancer cells present in the body."

"How long will it take to treat?" Albus sighed leaning against his desk.

"It could take years," Severus said. "It depends on what type of leukemia it is and how Potter responds to the treatment."

"Years?" Albus pondered. "Does Harry know?"

"No. It would be best to wait for the bone marrow results. There's a two percent chance the blood test showed a false positive," Severus paused before telling the Headmaster the worst of the news. "And Albus, if Potter relapses from an initial remission or cannot reach a remission, he'll need a bone marrow transplant, which requires a match, usually found in a family member. It's essential that the match isn't a Muggle or Harry could lose his magic or have it significantly weaken. It would be best from a parent as the child's magic would be the most compatible to his parent's, but as that isn't an option..."

"I see," Albus nodded and Severus didn't like the way the man's eyes began to twinkle. "Are you still willing to take Harry for the summer? If not, I must write to his relatives."

Severus thought over the prospect. Caring for a sick Potter would be much more trying than giving him lessons, but would the Muggles be able to see to Potter's needs? While Potter's treatment would be exclusively Muggle, the child would still need care through the wizarding world. Muggles couldn't and wouldn't be able to monitor Potter's magical statistics. An extended stay at St. Mungo's was out of the question. It wasn't safe. And there was still that vow of protection to consider...

"Yes, if Potter agrees, but I want modifications done to my quarters and I want permission to be Potter's medical proxy. He'll also need permission to draw from the main Potter vaults for his treatments. They're not cheap, nor are they covered through the system."

"All of which can be arranged within the hour. Thank you, my boy. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were starting to actually like Harry," Albus said returning to his desk to write the necessary missives. "Lemon drop?"

Severus shook his head. No he didn't like Potter. The brat got into too much trouble and was as arrogant as his father. Severus agreed because it was his job to protect the boy, and every child deserved to receive the best treatment.

Speaking of which, he really should head back to the Hospital Wing to gather the necessary items needed for the procedure. While he couldn't perform the procedure, he knew what it involved and the child needed to be informed of what to expect.

"Before you go Severus, sign this for me," Albus said sliding a form across the desk with a quill. "It's your end of year inventory list. With all of the excitement these past weeks, it must've slipped your mind before you handed it in."

"Of course," Severus signed the form without looking it over though he remembered double-checking the list before handing it in. Draco had walked in as he finished, but he thought he remembered signing the form. Severus let it go. He wasn't perfect.

Harry continued staring at the wall, well not at the wall, but he pretended to be in his cupboard locked away from everything. As much as he hated that tiny place, it was a source of comfort for no one bothered him there, and nothing from the outside world could get in. That little place was the safest he ever remembered feeling.

Tightening the blanket around him, Harry curled in on himself, making him smaller, less visible. If he could just suppress his fear and give into numbness he could deal with whatever was coming.  He had confirmation it wasn't good news. Pomfrey was never frantic like she was running to the floo, and he should know after his many Hospital Wing visits.

Would they send him away? What if he couldn't be cured?

Not knowing terrified Harry, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Maybe he could tell them that if he was dying he didn't want to know, that they should just let him live while he could.

There was so much he hadn't done yet. Like kiss a girl properly. Cho didn't count. Or see the ocean; the Dursleys went every year, but never took him. He wanted to learn non-verbal wandless magic like he saw Dumbledore and Snape use. Live by himself. He couldn't wait to turn seventeen, finish school, and get his own place where he could buy the most comfortable bed and get to sleep in it every night. No lumpy mattress like at the Dursleys or single bed like the one in his dorm. And buy clothes that fit for everyday wear.

"Potter," a silky low voice filtered into his thoughts. "Harry," the voice said again followed by a squeeze on his shoulder. Harry blinked to see Snape standing before him.

"Professor?"

"Yes, I need to explain a test we need to do," Snape said sitting down in a chair beside his bed.

"Okay," Harry agreed, his voice small and childlike. He swallowed back the bile forming in the back of his throat.

"The blood tests we ran came back inconclusive. Have you heard of a bone marrow biopsy?" Snape asked.

"No," Harry flinched. It sounded like they needed a part of his bone. Were they planning to cut into him to get it?

"I'm not going to lie, it's an uncomfortable test, and it may hurt. The mediwitch or wizard will inject a shot to numb your back, here," Severus touched a point on Harry's lower back near his hip, "before using a needle to collect a sample of your bone marrow. The procedure won't take long once it's started, but you may feel some pain and discomfort for a few days afterwards."

"Are you sending me to St. Mungo's?" Harry asked, his mind reeling. "And where did Professor McGonagall go?"

"No," Severus answered, "Poppy should be back soon with someone to perform the procedure. Poppy or I, or anyone else you want will be with you the entire time. Professor McGonagall had a matter to attend to up in your common room involving some overenthusiastic seventh years."

"Oh," Harry wasn't surprised about the seventh years. They had been planning a party for a few weeks now. "How long will the results take?"

"Not long. We'll know by the time dinner is over if Poppy gets back soon."

Harry nodded. He didn't have another choice.

"It will be okay. It's a low risk standard procedure in the Muggle world," Severus said placing his hand on the bed. Harry reached out and grabbed it, intertwining his fingers with his professor's so Snape couldn't let go. He needed contact something that proved this wasn't a horrible nightmare to wake up from. "Have you thought of who you'd like with you for the procedure?"

He paused to think it over. "Will you stay, sir? You know what's happening and just in case, you know, something goes wrong..."

"Yes, I'll stay," Snape cut Harry off from voicing his other fears. It was crazy to him that Snape, the professor who'd rather give him detention than a passing grade, brought him this bizarre sense of not quite comfort, but something like safety. Though the potions master saved his life numerous times before so maybe it wasn't such a crazy feeling. Harry stayed there with Snape's hand held captive until Poppy and the mediwizard arrived and were set up for the procedure.

"Hello," the middle-aged balding mediwizard greeted him. "I'm Mr. Hawkins. Are you ready to get started?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, his body trembling with fear.

"Good," Mr. Hawkins said. "It'll be over before you know it, kid. Follow Madame Pomfrey, she'll get you set up."

Harry looked towards Snape wondering if the professor was backing out of staying with him.

"Go on, Mr. Potter. I'll be in once Madame Pomfrey has you situated. I promise Mr. Hawkins won't start until I'm there," Snape said untangling his hand from his.

He stood up and followed Pomfrey into a private healing room at the back of the Hospital Ward. "Put this on and only this, Harry. Knock on the door when you're finished. I'll be waiting outside."

Harry gulped as he took the paper gown. He changed quickly, not wishing to be alone for anything at the moment. With his clothes folded and sitting on a chair near the door, Harry knocked on the door, determined to continue facing the door.

Poppy slipped inside and handed a blanket for Harry to keep his back covered. "Lie down on your stomach up here," she said patting the procedure table. "Place your hips on the blanket."

With Poppy's help, Harry lay on the procedure table. She spread out a few heavy blankets from his rear down to his feet before sliding open the back of Harry's gown. He shivered and felt exposed even though his back was the only thing visible. "Are you comfortable?" Harry nodded into the flimsy pillow, his eyes closed. "I'll go get Professor Snape and Mr. Hawkins. It'll be over soon," she said, rubbing his shoulder as she walked by.

"Try to relax," Snape said from in front of Harry. He opened his eyes to see his professor sitting down on a stool, taking Harry's hands into his. "Squeeze as hard as you need to. I won't break." Harry squeezed Snape's hands fearing what was to come.

He jumped as something cold was spread over his skin. "That was just the iodine. I haven't started yet," Mr. Hawkins said.

"Look at me, Potter," Snape said in a voice that Harry knew not to disobey. "If it's too much, tell me. I'll enter your mind, nothing like how we practiced, and I'll erect shields for you to escape under until it's over." Like hell Harry would let Snape enter his mind. He never wanted the man riffling through his mind ever again. But still Harry nodded for the sake of forgoing an argument.

Harry closed his eyes, his hands clenching the potion master's, waiting for the pain to begin. A sharp pinch, much sharper than Snape's, emitted from his right lower back near his hipbone followed by a burning sensation that soon turned to numbness.

Starting to relax under the false pretense of blissful numbness, Harry yelped in surprise as he felt pressure mixed with a little bit of pain. "Stop it, that hurts," Harry pleaded when a second later a sharp pain rippled down his leg.

"Harry, squeeze my hands. A few more minutes and it's over," Snape said, trying to distract him. Harry squeezed his professor's hands hard, his face scrunched up in pain. "You're okay. The aspiration part is almost done, then just a few more minutes."

He whimpered, not caring if he sounded like a weakling. Harry wanted the procedure over with. The sharp pain went away, only to be replaced by a crunching sound and a deeper, duller pain seconds later.

Sighing in relief as the pain and pressure finally went away, Harry decided he never wanted that test ever again. It bloody hurt! "You did well, Potter," Snape said wiggling his fingers to get Harry to loosen his grip. "Mr. Hawkins is cleaning the site before bandaging it while Madame Pomfrey takes the samples to be tested."

"All done kid," Mr. Hawkins said a few minutes later. "You'll need to roll over onto your back for fifteen minutes, and then by then we should have your results." Harry swallowed. He didn't know if he was ready for those results.

After hearing the door open and shut, Snape spelled some pajamas onto him before helping him to roll over. Harry yawned as his fatigue hit him full force. "Go to sleep, Potter. When you wake up we'll have the results." After handing his glasses off to Snape, Harry did just that, surprised his body allowed him to fall asleep so easily while anxious, yet scared for the coming answers.