Harry surfaced from the blank blackness of unnatural sleep to feel a warm hand brush against his forehead. He smiled at the soft touch before falling back into the welcoming blackness, wanting nothing more than to sleep until he finally felt rested.

"Harry," he heard a voice whisper to him before he became aware of Hermione nudging him awake. "Wake up."

"Five more minutes," Harry mumbled, rolling away from Hermione's offending voice. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He was tired, and the mere action of rolling over killed any energy he gained from sleeping.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron complained, "You've been sleeping all day, and Madame Pomfrey won't be in her office all night."

"Go away," Harry tried again. "Tired."

"Harry," Hermione said sounding exasperated, yet pleading.

Harry groaned, but peeled open his crusty eyelids. It was dark wherever he was with only a few candles chasing away night's darkness. Madame Pomfrey. Ron had mentioned her. He must be in the Hospital Wing again, but he couldn't remember how he got there.

A fuzzy hand came into view holding his glasses. Harry took them, placing them on his face. He blinked a few times before his eyes came into focus, and he was able to see that it was Hermione who had handed him his glasses.

"Thanks, ‘Mione," Harry said as he struggled to push himself up. Ron's arms wrapped around his chest, and he let Ron pull him up to rest against the pillows.

"We were so worried about you," Hermione flung herself at Harry. He gasped from Hermione's tight hold. She jumped back and apologized.

"It's okay. What happened?"

"You mean, you don't remember, mate?" Ron asked.

"No. The last thing I remember was sitting in Potions and Snape was giving us our summer homework." Despite having finished their O.W.L.S., the fifth years still had their end of term tests to complete and while most teachers gave them a simple test in comparison to the O.W.L.S., Snape of course had not.

"You passed out faster than Neville can explode a potion. Even Snape couldn't aim his spell fast enough to stop you from hitting the floor, not that the git was trying too hard," Ron grumbled the last bit.

"Ronald just because you didn't do well on your test doesn't mean Professor Snape..." Harry blocked out the rest of Hermione's tirade. He passed out in Potions? Why? He'd been feeling tired with a few dizzy spills, but he thought he was fine. Madame Pomfrey healed the few cuts and bruises he obtained at the Ministry and declared him healthy enough to leave the next morning, insisting he stay the night to make sure he got an uninterrupted night of sleep, free from dreams. That was days ago. He was sure nothing could've happened to him since then.

Harry sighed and slid back down into bed, ignoring Ron and Hermione. It took too much energy to keep his eyes open, and they were too busy fighting about Snape to notice him.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley! You are disturbing my patient, not to mention that I specifically told you earlier that Mr. Potter is not up to having visitors!" Madame Pomfrey scolded. Harry didn't even crack open an eye, just listened as his two best friends' voices of protestation faded until the door closed and a welcome silence filled the wing.

"I must insist, Mr. Potter, that you don't go back to sleep yet," Madame Pomfrey said as Harry heard her move towards his bed.

"What's wrong with me?"

"A delayed case of magical exhaustion, no doubt caused by your excursion at the Ministry," Pomfrey tutted as she swept her wand across his body.

"Delayed?" Harry's eyes snapped open in confusion.

"Yes. The shock of losing your godfather caused your body's reactions to be delayed. Once the shock and adrenalin wore off your body responded. You exerted a great deal of magic that night. It'll take some time for your core to replenish itself."

"So I'm not dying?" Harry sighed in relief.

"No, Mr. Potter, far from it," Madame Pomfrey laughed. "You just need rest. Go to sleep." Harry nodded and nuzzled into the standard white bed linens of the Hospital Wing. His eyes closed and he felt his glasses being lifted from his face as he sunk back into the welcoming darkness of sleep.

Severus Snape swept out of the floo into his quarters. He stomped the few feet between the hearth to the side table, picking up the half-empty glass and flinging it against the wall. It shattered but did nothing to appease his anger-anger at Albus and anger at himself for caving into the Headmaster's wishes.

Severus had been looking forward to his summer after his cover as a spy was blown thanks to Potter's abhorrent decision to trapeze across Britain in efforts to save the mutt he called a godfather. For once he'd be free of the teenage miscreants he despised and not have orders to follow from either the Dark Lord or Albus to interrupt his summer solitude. But no, Severus had underestimated Albus. The meddling fool worked around Severus' inability to be sent on Order missions and tasked him with an even worse mission. Teach Harry Potter. For the entire summer. 

How was he supposed to teach the brat who refused to be taught? Dumbledore warned him to be careful with Potter. The Headmaster was worried about his golden boy's reaction to the mutt's death. What did Dumbledore think he was? A Muggle shrink? He didn't have a sympathetic bone in his body when it came to Potter. But in Albus' infuriating way, he managed to get Severus to agree to teach Potter over the summer without Severus even realizing it until he already agreed.

If teaching Potter wasn't a horrendous enough task, Albus waited until after Severus agreed before topping off the task with a cherry, a blood red exploding one. With the castle near empty for the summer, Albus reasoned that Potter should reside in Severus' quarters. Severus wanted to kick and scream like a toddler, but he had too much decorum for that. He couldn't believe his planned restful summer was turned into an arduous task that was sure to drive him to St. Mungo's psychiatric ward before the Dark Lord could kill him.

A loud pop startled Severus out of his brooding. "Master Snape, sir!" an entirely too enthusiastic house-elf greeted the potions master.

Severus snarled, whipping around to face the obnoxious creature. He didn't allow house-elves in his quarters and certainly not ones who made their presence known. "Out!" Severus bellowed. He would not allow his privacy to be breached one millisecond before he had to, but the creature had other ideas.

"Dobby here to see to Harry Potter's room. Master Dumbledore's orders, sir."

Severus threw up his arms and stalked into his private lab. He slammed the heavy wooden door behind him feeling the existing wards wash over him that would prevent Dibby, Doppy, whatever the creature was called from popping into his lab.

Severus moved about his lab, setting up cauldrons to begin the healing potions needed for the Hospital Wing the following year while thinking about how to break the news to Potter in the morning. Albus had left him that pleasure, and with a crooked grin that would send first years running to their mummy's, Severus began to grind up iridescent fairy wings.

After a last quick check-up by Pomfrey, Harry was released from the Hospital Wing to join his friends in the Great Hall for breakfast with a warning that if he overdid it, he'd be spending the last week of term under her supervision. He was still more tired than usual, but it was expected. The only remedy was to limit his use of magic and get extra rest until his core could build itself up again.

"Morning," Harry said as he slipped into his normal seat besides Hermione and across from Ron.

"Harry!" Ron said through his stuffed mouth as he looked up from his full plate surprised.

"Ron, that's gross! Do you want to send Harry back to the Hospital Wing because of your horrible table manners?" Hermione scolded before turning to Harry. "Are you sure you shouldn't be lying down?"

"You were sure out of it, mate," Ron said after swallowing.

"I'm fine," Harry reassured his friends as he scooped a spoonful of eggs onto his plate. "Madame Pomfrey let me out, and you know she doesn't let me out until I'm fine."

"All right, but you really should eat more than that," Hermione sounded skeptical as she piled up Harry's plate for him.

"Yes, Mother," Harry rolled his eyes as Ron laughed.

"I'm just trying to help." Hermione withdrew her hand from reaching for another piece of toast for Harry.

"I know, Mione, but I really can feed myself." Hermione blushed in embarrassment before letting Harry tuck into his well-balanced and plentiful breakfast.

Harry and Ron ate while Hermione leafed through a large ancient book. Hermione's insatiable need for knowledge knew no boundaries apparently. Harry couldn't believe after O.W.L.S and end of term exams, Hermione could read a book without disgust. His brain was still jumbled from O.W.L.S and wondered if it would take all summer before he could concentrate again.

"Did Madam Pomfrey say anything about your magic acting weird because of your core?" Hermione whispered once Harry pushed his plate away.

"No," Harry shrugged, though his magic had been wonky for the last month.

It started with little things that Harry barely noticed. His spells weren't quite as strong, and it took more concentration to cast. As the last month passed, Harry's magical strength continued to dwindle though no one noticed since the diminished levels were on par with most of his classmates. Even Snape didn't seem to notice. Harry thought it was nothing until the night at the Ministry. He couldn't cast the cruciatus curse at Bellatrix, but the actual failure of his spell didn't worry him, the fact that he didn't feel even a tingle of magic shoot through his wand was what worried him and made him finally confide in Hermione and Ron.

"You should've asked her about it," Hermione scolded. "What if it's a result of a stray hex?" Harry shook his head. He knew it wasn't a stray hex because it wasn't sudden like Hermione thought. He never told them that it didn't start the night at the Ministry. Harry didn't want that lecture from Hermione, and he had enough on his plate with the prophecy.

Merlin, he had forgotten all about the prophecy in his lethargic state that had put him in the Hospital Wing.

Harry stood up abruptly, tipping over his glass of pumpkin juice. "I think I'm gonna go lie down for a while," he lied. He needed to get away. Some place quiet, some place he could forget all about that damn prophecy. Kill or be killed. Harry staggered away from the Gryffindor table.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione called after him, but Harry picked up his pace. He couldn't tell his friends. They wouldn't understand, and it wasn't their burden to bear. It was his. Harry bolted from the Great Hall in a blind run until he collided with a black figure at the foot of the stairs and landed on his rear right in front of the pool of black robes.

Harry's eyes widened as he scrambled to his feet. He couldn't deal with Snape. Not now. Harry brushed past his professor and thought he'd gotten away when a hand grabbed his shoulder. He tried to jerk away, but Snape was too strong.

"Come, Potter. You and I need to talk," Snape said as he dug his fingers into Harry's shoulder, directing him towards the dungeons.

"Professor, please," Harry pleaded, trying to extricate Snape's hand from his shoulder. "I need to lie down. Madam Pomfrey said not to overdo it, sir."

"If you are well enough to run from the Great Hall, you are well enough to have a conversation with your professor, or should I lead you up to Madam Pomfrey myself?" Snape stopped, his eyebrow raised in question.

Harry's shoulders sagged realizing there was no way Snape would let him get out of whatever conversation he was being drug to. He really hated the man. If Snape would've helped, Sirius would still be alive his one chance at a normal family away from the Dursleys. Reluctantly, Harry nodded before following Snape into the bowels of Hogwarts past the potions classroom and Snape's office.

"Sir?" Harry asked, stopping in the middle of the dark corridor. He was starting to get worried despite knowing Snape's cover had been blown. Was Snape going to capture him to get back into Voldemort's good graces?

"Can you not follow a simple command, Potter? Even a mutt has the brain capacity to obey orders," Snape sneered as he whipped around to face Harry, his black robes whirling around him.

"Where are you taking me?" Harry asked, his voice as small as a frightened young child.

"Must you question everything?" Snape snapped, grabbing Harry's upper arm to drag him down the corridor.

"Get your hands off me, you greasy bat," Harry yelled trying to rip his arm away from his professor. Snape was kidnapping him, taking him to Voldemort! Why else would Snape drag him away from everyone else in the castle? Harry reached for his wand, but withdrew his hand. Harry couldn't perform a spell when it was likely the spell wouldn't work as it was supposed to. Snape would notice, tell Voldemort, and Voldemort would kill him on the spot before Harry could get a handle on his magic again.

"Ten points from Gryffindor. Shall I take more?" Snape taunted, his menacing form staring Harry down while he twirled his wand in his free hand. "If memory serves, my house is only a few points behind Gryffindor. I would so hate if the House Cup changed hands because of the actions of one imbecilic fifth year," Snape said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But wait, that already happened."

Harry averted his eyes to the dungeon floor, Snape's words cutting through him. It was his fault. He went to the Ministry. He got Sirius killed. "Please, stop," Harry begged, his voice breaking as he rested his forehead against the cold dungeon walls. His adrenaline zapped, Harry's eyelids felt like the weight of a hippogriff.

He didn't want to be taken to Voldemort. He wasn't ready to die, and he certainly wasn't ready to face Voldemort. All he wanted was to be alone. He wanted to forget about the last week about Sirius, his wonky magic, the prophecy, but not by dying.

"Potter, come," Snape said, his deep tone sounding normal, devoid of any hints of ridicule. Harry looked up, jumping back from the man who had somehow crept to within an arms length of him without his notice. Snape set his hand on Harry's shoulder, not gripping his shoulder like Harry was used to, but a hold that if it wasn't from Snape Harry would consider it comforting, but that was never Snape. His professor hated him.

"Okay," Harry consented, too tired and worn down to object. Maybe dying was easier.  Snape snatched his hand away from Harry and continued down the corridor. Harry followed the potions master through twists and turns until Harry was thoroughly confused. The Marauders' Map didn't reach this far into the dungeons, so Harry didn't know if they were approaching a hidden passageway or not

They stopped in front of a solid brick wall. "Your hand, Potter." Harry held out his hand to Snape, confused as Snape guided Harry's hand to the wall. "Feel those slight indentations? Remember them," Snape told him before his professor placed his wand on the wall and incanted a string of whispered Latin. A green glow surrounded Harry's hand before a wood door appeared. This was it. Snape was taking him outside the castle.

Snape opened the heavy door and ushered Harry in. He stopped right inside the door, surprised to find a roomy sitting room decorated in deep blues and greens instead of a passageway. Two wingback chairs were situated around the fireplace, but what caught Harry's attention was the sofa. While every other piece of furniture in the room looked newer and well kept, the sofa appeared as if one too many reparo charms had been used. Small patches littered the navy blue sofa, and the left armrest was squashed down, and even more intriguing was the white kitten curled up on a green blanket on the middle cushion.

"Sit down, Potter," Snape gestured to one of the chairs. Harry, glad for the seat, sank into the wingback chair. He sighed in relief, realizing Snape wasn't going to kidnap him. He was just overacting. Harry forced his eyes to stay open, wondering where he was because Snape wouldn't ever show Harry where his personal quarters were, and Snape would never have a white kitten.

"Where are we, sir?" Harry asked, too tired to work out any other possibility.

"My quarters. I trust you're not suicidal enough to inform any students where my quarters reside."

"No, sir," Harry forced out, his eyes wide. Snape's quarters were cozy, and he had a white kitten. A kitten, the greasy git of the dungeons known to make first years cry with his glare owned a tiny white kitten! Harry didn't know if he should laugh or confess to Pomfrey that he was delusional. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Professor Dumbledore has decided upon an alternative instead of you returning to your relatives this summer," Snape began with an evil smirk that made Harry want to flee back to Gryffindor tower.

Severus smirked as he watched Potter squirm in the chair across from him. It was a smart decision to bring Potter to his quarters to break the news to the brat, being in his quarters discomforted Potter more than anywhere else in the castle. Severus conjured a tea set and served himself a cup of tea with exactly one and a quarter cubes of sugar before motioning to Potter to serve himself. Severus sipped on his tea, leaving Potter to wait in silence and think of the numerous possibilities of where he'd spend his summer.

He knew he was being a right bastard, but Severus couldn't help himself. Potter caused more trouble than Longbottom, and it was always Severus who had to save the boy.

"No," Potter gasped. The boy clunked his teacup down on its saucer and started pacing a small track in front of the fire. "Dumbledore wouldn't." Harry's hands went to his head, his fingers pulling on his dark mop of hair.

"Potter, do you need a calming draught?" Severus glared. The brat wasn't supposed to work himself up like this, not yet. It was ruining his plans. Potter was supposed to blow a gasket after Severus told him the news, not steal Severus' moment from him. "Sit down," Severus commanded, "before I use a sticking charm on you!"

"No! I can't," Potter rambled, his pacing across the navy hearth rug picking up speed. "Dumbledore, no. I'd rather go back to the Dursley's. He can't. I won't."

"Potter," Severus barked, trying to get through to him. Potter continued his nonsensical rambling and pacing. Severus sighed. It was not supposed to be like this. He would not coddle the boy. He summoned a calming draught while standing from his chair. "Harry," Severus said in soft tone, placing his hands gently on the teen's shoulders. He directed Potter back to the chair and handed the phial of potion over to Potter to drink. Potter, for once, did something without being told to and drank the potion as if it were an automated response. Severus returned to his chair, waiting for the potion to kick in before he'd inform Potter of the summer plans Albus drew up for him.

Harry slumped into the chair as the potion worked through his body. His limbs felt like lead, and he couldn't fight the effects of the calming draught in his lethargy, leaving him at the mercy of his hated professor, but in some ways Harry enjoyed the artificial fuzzy state. He was free of worry, felt lighter than he could ever remember feeling. Harry could brew a perfect potion right in front of Snape, not even his professor standing over him could fluster him. Harry felt peaceful. He never wanted that feeling to go away.

"Mr. Potter, are you able to continue without further teenage melodrama?" Snape asked, his snarky tone not affecting Harry one bit.

"Of course, please continue," Harry smiled, curling his feet up under him. The fire's warmth felt fantastic on his skin. Despite the warmer temperatures as summer approached, Harry found himself cold more often than not.

"As I was trying to say before," Snape snapped in annoyance, "Professor Dumbledore has arranged for you to stay at Hogwarts for the summer."

"That's great," Harry shifted into the corner of the wingback chair wishing he could summon a blanket, but that would involve magic, and despite the effects of the potion remembered that performing magic wasn't a good idea.

"Potter! We aren't finished talking, and don't you dare fall asleep in my chair. I will not play babysitter to a Gryffindor brat," Snape snapped.

"Then hurry up, sir. I'm tired."

Harry watched Snape jump up from his chair, full of fury. Maybe he shouldn't have said that, but it was true. Snape strode over to him, leveling himself to Harry's eye level. He knew he should be worried, scared, some kind of negative emotion. Harry, however, couldn't help but let out a tired giggle. When he wasn't worried about repercussion, the fire in Snape's obsidian eyes that seemed to laser beam across the room to melt some unsuspecting object like some of those shows Dudley watched on the tele was quite amusing.

"You will be staying here, Potter, in my quarters, at my mercy! You'll spend your days in lessons including occlumency, and I will not tolerate the despicable attempts you employed this year," Snape yelled, his finger waving in front of Harry's face. "You will follow my instructions or face the consequences, and if you hold even a miniscule amount of intelligence, you'll get up from my chair this instance and return to Gryffindor Tower where we will ignore each other until forced to cohabitate for the summer!"

Shrugging seemed to infuriate the professor even further if a teacup hurled against the wall was any indication. What else could he do? Yell and scream like Snape? It wasn't as if he had a say to where he'd go this summer. Dumbledore never cared about what Harry wanted. He was expected to follow Dumbledore's orders, and his summer plans wasn't something worth fighting the amazing lightness the potion provided. 

"Potter, ten seconds before I hex you into oblivion! Move!" Snape barked, pulling Harry up. He swayed on his feet, dizziness sweeping over him. His legs shook until his knees buckled, and Harry prepared himself to meet the cold hard floor of Snape's quarters.

Cursing himself, Severus caught Potter before the brat could hurt himself again. The last thing he needed was for Potter to hurt himself and blame it on him. The brat's insignificant weight against his robes reminded him he needed to do something about the teen's current state. Severus, against his better judgment, lugged Potter over his shoulder and took him to the room the house-elf made.

When he entered the room, Severus was surprised. The room was small and not at all furnished like he thought Albus would instruct. A single bed stood in the far corner with a nightstand on the side. A basic desk that wasn't much more than a table sat opposite the bed with a bookshelf above, and a wardrobe was situated to his left. At the end of the bed was a door that Severus assumed led to a bathroom.

Severus pulled the covers down before lowering Potter down onto the bed, his hand supporting the boy's hand until it hit the pillow. With Potter's shabby trainers removed and Potter's wand set on the nightstand, Severus spread the covers over the teen. He refused to tuck James Potter's son in bed. No, he was merely making sure Potter didn't fall ill from the coolness of the dungeons. Severus did it to protect himself, or so he told himself.

Walking back into the sitting room Severus almost crushed Potter's hideous glasses that lay on the ground forgotten where they must've fallen from Potter's face in the trek to the bedroom. It was a shame such an eyesore hid the beautiful green eyes the brat inherited from his mother. Lily. Severus sighed. He refused to go down that road tonight.

Bending down to pick up Potter's glasses, he found another reason to be glad his spying days were over. His back popped and cracked as he stood up making him wonder how long he could've continued in the Dark Lord's ranks. At thirty-six he was young, but multiple bouts of the Cruciatus curse left marks. His creaky joints made him feel like an old man, and he only hoped the effects would lessen over time.

After placing Potter's glasses on the nightstand beside the holly wand, Severus sat down on the sofa he never could get rid of. Despite its ramshackle appearance, the navy sofa was his most comfortable piece of furniture. The cushions sank in just right, and it was here where he took to grading, reading, or pondering the latest mysteries like the one he found himself faced with despite the rampant rumors that suggested otherwise. How could his students really think he was a coffin-sleeping vampire when they saw him eat everyday?

Potter should not have acted that way after consuming the standard calming draught. His reaction was similar to a Muggle's reaction, but that didn't make any sense. There was no question that Potter possessed magical ability. The teen had magic to spare, his power levels superior to any of his peers, and since he was older now, probably superior to any student in Hogwarts, including the departing seventh years.

"Meow," the white cat demanded attention as she climbed into Severus' lap.

"What do you want?" Severus asked detached as he started to pet the fluffy bundle of fur that always left his robes speckled with white and caused him to invent a spell just for that purpose.

"Meow," the little monster insisted, butting her head against her master's hand.

"Hold on, you little attention seeker. You act as if I never feed you." Severus said, his voice as stern as Hagrid's. After taking a few treats out of the inconspicuous jar on the coffee table, he placed them on the floor, which caused Flurry to jump from his lap to the floor, a soft purr emanating from her tiny body. Flurry crunched up the treats and stopped to rub up against his leg before slinking off to check out the new guest.

"Even my cat likes Potter better than me," Severus grumbled to himself before continuing his pondering. He liked puzzles, part of the reason he enjoyed potions so much. What was going on with Potter? A student just didn't pass out in his class without being subjected to a potions accident, not even on test days. Well except for Miss Johnson during her first year due to her nerves. The poor girl's mother was a potions mistress and expected nothing but the highest grades in potions for her daughter.

Back to the Potter mystery. He hadn't noticed anything different in the time since the Ministry incident except for Potter's obvious grief. The boy had even managed a passing grade on his end-of-term exam, an exam Severus had been thoroughly looking forward to marking with a big T. Severus thought back to after breakfast when he first encountered Potter. In retrospect, Severus cringed at his own actions getting Potter down to his quarters. Maybe if he hadn't been so forceful and answered a simple question, the teen wouldn't have worked himself up so much before ever entering his quarters. There was no question the boy didn't trust him. Severus noticed the fear in those emerald eyes. He didn't need to legilimize the boy to know Potter thought he was being kidnapped. As if Severus could ever consider the notion. He'd like to live without Lily coming back to haunt him.

There was one thing. Why hadn't the boy used his wand? Harry never even reached for the stick of holly that Severus was horrified to find out resided in Potter's back pocket. Didn't the teen know how valuable that wand was? Come to think of it, Severus hadn't seen Potter using his wand since he returned from the Ministry. Did a stray hex hit the brat? But that didn't explain why Poppy released him. She was a very thorough bordering on annoying mediwitch. She was sure to have run diagnostic scans to look for hexes and curses. Severus saw Albus send the brat to the Hospital Wing upon return, and Potter had been there again after passing out in Potions.

A whoosh interrupted Severus' pondering, bringing Albus into his quarters. "Ah my dear boy, here you are," Albus greeted in loud violet robes decorated with fluttering snitches. "I'm sorry to invite myself, but is Harry here? His friends are worried after he ran out of breakfast. Harry seems to be missing."

Severus hated that Albus still called him a boy. It made him feel too young like he was still a student instead of a seasoned professor and head of house and something else that he could never identify.

"Yes, Potter is here," Severus confirmed striding over to the chairs beside the fireplace. Albus would've firecalled if that were his only question. They sat down, Albus conjuring and serving tea and sweets.

"Good. I assume then you told Harry about our arrangements. Where is he?" Albus asked, his eyes searching for his golden boy.

"Sleeping," Severus waved to the hall after setting down his teacup. "It seems a calming draught was too much to handle for his depleted state, which frankly concerns me. I think there is more than what Poppy detected."

"Nonsense," Albus dismissed the notion. "I was in the room when Poppy ran the scans after his return. She did nothing wrong, and the scans revealed nothing. Have a lemon tart, Severus. The elves put just enough lemon to get the perfect amount of tangy goodness." Albus pushed the tray of tarts closer to Severus.

"You are off your rocker if you haven't learned that I despise lemon tarts yet," Severus retorted as he crossed his arms across his chest, annoyed with Albus for dismissing his theory so quickly.

"Perhaps I am, or perhaps one day you will shock me enough to need Poppy's assistance by taking a lemon tart."

Severus watched Albus take another lemon tart, the old man's eyes twinkling with every bite. If the Headmaster didn't have any other questions, then he'd like to get to his grading. Severus had a whole stack of tests and papers to grade before the week was out. Half the morning had already been wasted, and it was ruining his grading schedule. Today he was supposed to finish grading first and second year exams, and start on the seventh year cornerstone projects. It was the first day sans lessons, and he was already falling behind. It didn't bode well for the rest of the week.

"How did Harry take the news, my boy?" Albus asked as he poured himself another cup of tea.

"By then he was already under the influence of the calming draught, so of course he took it well. I expect outrage when he wakes though and realizes what was said," Severus answered with the truth, twisting it to leave out pertinent information. There were some benefits to being a spy for so long.

"Yes, that is to be expected. I hope you both learn to control your tempers and learn from each other. He is not who you think he is as I have mentioned many times yet you still seem to think he is nothing but James' clone."

Severus dug his nails into his arms. The insufferable brat would always be just that, insufferable. He promised the Headmaster he'd try to control his temper over the summer, but once term began again in the fall all bets were off. If he didn't have to live with the boy, he wouldn't have even promised that. He would not get attached to the boy despite it making learning occlumency easier. Potter would have to deal with it.

"Dobby told me he was by to create Harry's room. Is it satisfactory?"

"Yes, but not much else. The room is tiny, Albus. Where do you expect the boy to put his things or spend time?" Severus said, not believing that in a weird sort of way he was defending the boy.

"Harry will not think so, Severus. It would not due to have the boy spoiled now," Albus said, standing up from his chair to move towards the floo. "I will tell Harry's friends that he is safe and will return to them soon. Please see that Harry doesn't stay too long. It would not be wise to let others get wind of the plan before summer even begins."

"I promise not to keep Potter any longer than necessary. You may take him with you if you desire, I have a mountain of grading to do," Severus said, knowing Dumbledore would insist upon Harry staying until he woke up.

"No, Harry needs his rest after all. We can't expect his core to replenish itself by playing Quidditch. I shall see you at dinner, my boy." And with that suggestion that might as well be a demand, Albus flooed back to his office.

The Headmaster's lack of concern and empathy bothered Severus. He had seen it all year. Albus consistently walked the other way when Potter approached. Albus blamed it on the boy not knowing occlumency, but that excuse didn't hold now. Potter himself knew the prophecy and still Albus refused to meet with Potter. And Albus couldn't be that angry over the trinkets Potter destroyed in his office. A few reparo charms, and the office was as good as new.

One thing, however, was certain. Despite Dumbledore's dismissal that something was wrong, Potter's first stop upon waking would be the Hospital Wing where Poppy could rerun her magical scans and Severus could peruse Potter's file. Perhaps that's where his answer lay. Knowing he wouldn't get any grading done until he solved the Potter puzzle, Severus flooed to retrieve Potter's file using the privileges granted to the resident potions master to look for allergies before settling back onto his sofa with the tome sized file. 

With sheets of parchment and charts strewn across the sofa, coffee table, and floor, Severus was no closer in solving the Potter puzzle. He had two neat piles in the midst of the debris field piled onto the coffee table separated into pertinent information and possible pertinent information. Each stack was only a few inches high compared to the piles of useless information. So far, Severus learned that Potter had broken a record amount of bones while in residence at Hogwarts, surpassing even Miss Tonks, was allergic to valerian root, ironic considering Potter's first potions class, and was missing most if not all of his inoculations. Nothing of which pointed to any red flags.  

Severus continued skimming through Potter's files. He was nearing the end with Poppy's charts after Harry returned from the Ministry and slowed his reading to capture every word. The parchment noted her initial diagnostic scans and periodic scans until Potter's release. They all held similar results. Potter's magical core scans showed depletion, but not dangerously low levels. Severus continued onto the latest entry to Potter's file to find similar results. With a growl of frustration, Severus reached the standard ending documents. Documents that Severus thought should be up front, but the medical community thought otherwise.

Sitting up straight, Severus gasped at Potter's magical level documentation. The controversial document gave Severus the proof that Potter was a powerful wizard indeed. The graph marked Potter's power levels at certain ages in comparison to his peers. The teen's magical levels started out in the seventy-fifth percentile as a baby and rose to the ninety-ninth percentile at the age of eleven, continuing to stay there. Under that graph contained a chart of the raw numbers the magical level scans produced.

Potter's latest scan read his levels to be a 517 out of a thousand. The numbers were high, especially for a student who hadn't reached his majority yet. It was almost unheard of for a student to breach six hundred before completing school, and with two years to go Potter was well on his way. Severus was one such student though he didn't come by the number until much later.

Magical level results were generally kept confidential from everyone including the witch or wizard subject to the scan. The Ministry believed it would cause uproar if everyone knew how powerful he or she was and for once the Ministry was right. Besides, it didn't matter as much how powerful a witch or wizard was, but what he or she did with her power. Mediwitches and wizards, however, needed the information to know the dosages of potions to give a patient, but in return for access to the information, they must agree to take an unbreakable vow, vowing to never share a witch's or wizard's level. And for anyone who wasn't authorized to read the files, the chart and corresponding numbers appeared blank. Even teaching the spell to an unauthorized person resulted in an automatic obliviate to the student and a stint in Azkaban for the teacher.

Severus, however, was not bound by such a vow and his unique position allowed him access to Poppy's files, a loophole the Ministry had yet to catch, but due to his honor he had only peeked twice, now three times not counting the time spent perusing his own file. It had proven too tempting not to look upon his godson's and Tom Riddle's file.

Five hundred and up was the range for ninety-nine percent of adult wizards and witches. One thousand marked Merlin's magical levels to which every other wizard or witch was ranked in comparison. Nine hundred to a thousand represented one tenth of one percent of the wizarding population which Severus himself was a member of. He was a proud 908. 850 to 899 represented three percent. 800 to 849 represented a very powerful wizard or witch with ten percent falling into that ranking. The majority of the adult wizarding population ranged from 600 to 725.

It would be interesting to know what Potter's adult level would climb to, typically reached between the ages of twenty and twenty-one. Underground studies predicted that adding two hundred to two hundred and fifty to the level upon commencement of school gave a good indicator of the wizard's potential level. To predict a child's level before seventeen, average the amount of growth each year between the end of first year and the latest school year ending reading. Add that quantity for each year until the child completed school. He started calculating the numbers in his head.

334 - 273 = 61

396 - 334 = 62

457 - 396 = 61!

That couldn't be right! Maybe that five was a six.

Severus scrambled for a sheet of parchment and quill. His hands snatched up a sheet journaling a minor quidditch injury. It would do. Turning the sheet over, Severus began graphing the magical level numbers. Unfortunately, his data included nothing between Potter's first birthday and his first scan done at Hogwarts at age eleven from Potter's first trip to the Hospital Wing, but what could Severus expect from a Muggle-raised boy. Paying attention to the closest end of school year scans, the graph showed a rise in power as it should, but the graph seemed to grow at smaller intervals.

Calculating the difference of growth between each key plot point, Muggle arithmetic skills really were undervalued in the wizarding world, Severus surveyed his findings. Potter's magical levels since he entered Hogwarts while growing grew steadily less every year beyond his third year. The opposite should've occurred as Potter learned to master his magic!

But what was the cause? He knew of no magical diseases or hexes that effected magical levels over an extended period of time. It didn't make any sense. Even if Potter were hit by an undetectable hex, the hex would've done something by now. Not even a miniscule trace of basilisk venom stalled a wizard's magical growth. Severus rose from the sofa, wand in hand. One more reading perhaps would shed further light on the puzzle.

The small room was dark when Severus entered. Living in the dungeons did have its advantages if he wished to catch up on his sleep during the day like Potter was doing. But was the young wizard catching up on the sleep needed for replenishing his core, or was it another clue? Severus waved his wand, the torch beside Potter's bed flaring to life, glowing enough for Severus to see what he was doing, but not enough to wake the brat. The situation was awkward enough without Potter protesting a simple scan.

The soft glow produced enough light for Flurry to crack open an eye though. The little monster of a cat lay curled up between the brat's shoulder blades. Traitor. Flurry always slept on her own pillow at the top of Severus' bed, never on him. But he refused to be jealous over his cat sleeping on Potter. He didn't want the furball sleeping on him anyways. No, for all he cared Flurry could sleep with the brat the whole summer. She just better not beg him for treats.

The potions master turned private investigator picked Flurry up and set the white shedding ball of fur on the ground less she mess up Potter's scan. "Meow," Flurry protested, her eyes almost fully shut against the offending light.

"Let me run my scan, and you can return to your nest," Severus sneered, but the white monster refused to be cowed, standing up on her hind legs to scratch at his robes. "Stop that," he scolded, picking her up to rest on his left hand, holding her against his side lest she try to escape. Severus rolled his eyes as Flurry licked his fingers, boasting in her victory by purring.

Severus ignored the creature that made him wonder daily how he had tolerated her for so long. He had more important things to do like Potter's scan, which he thanked not for the first time the falling apart ancient Prince book of spells for having the magical levels spell among others. Waving his wand in an intricate pattern over Potter's body while uttering a string of Latin, Severus watched as three red numbers changed and flipped, before slowing to a standstill. The red numbers flashed before changing to sparkling gold, an indicator that the number was the final one.

514.

Severus dropped Flurry, his eyes wide. He must've done something wrong. The potions master performed the spell again and one more, producing the same results. 514. But that was impossible! Perhaps his memory wasn't as good as it used to be. That's bollocks and you know it. Your photographic memory has yet to fail you.

Stepping backwards slowly, feeling more afraid for Potter than ever, more afraid than all of his end of term adventures combined, Severus reached the threshold of the door and ran to the sofa, snatching up Potter's official magical scan levels. His latest scan taken right after the Ministry incident, less than two weeks ago yielded a 517, three points higher than the scan Severus performed.

Impossible!

No hex, no disease, nothing caused a wizard's magical levels to drop. Something was wrong with Potter, terribly wrong. Damn Albus for dismissing his suspicions. If his curiosity hadn't been peaked, what would've happened to the boy if this went unchecked?

The potions master strode over to the hearth, throwing a handful of floo powder down. "Hospital Wing - Hogwarts," Severus declared while stepping into the green flames. A moment later he stepped out into the deserted Hospital Wing calling out for Poppy with an undertone of panic to his voice, but one he'd never admit to.

"Severus," Poppy greeted, walking out of her office. She looked him up and down before proceeding, "What's wrong? I see no sign of injury or blood on you."

"Potter," Severus said at a loss for words. How could he explain what he just witnessed to Poppy when he didn't know how to explain it to himself?

"Oh dear. What has the boy done to himself now? I told him to take it easy. I knew I shouldn't have released him," Poppy sighed turning to move about the room to collect necessary potions and supplies into a bag.

"No, that won't be necessary," Severus said, stopping the mediwitch. Was his voice actually shaky? Damn the brat. Why was it always up to him to save Potter. "I shall bring him up here within the hour. He's in no immediate danger," Severus told her, but questioned his own statement. The rational side of his brain reminded him that whatever Potter had or didn't have likely started after the Ministry incident, and if Poppy saw Potter fit enough to be released that morning, he should be fit enough to withstand five minutes alone.

"Of course, Severus. Do as you think best," Poppy began to unpack her bag. "I'll be ready for the boy."

"Thank you, Poppy." Severus turned to leave before a thought crossed his mind. He looked back to the mediwitch. "Might I advise you to seal off the ward while he is present? I think the correct course of action would be to rerun all your scans, plus Muggle tests if those prove fruitless," Severus chose his words carefully. The last thing he needed was for Poppy to begin worrying as much as he was.

"I trust your advice. I'll have the necessities for Muggle tests as well though I must admit, Severus, you are starting to scare me," Poppy admitted, stopping her preparations.

"Not to worry, Poppy," Severus lied dusting off his robes as if the conversation didn't warrant his attention. "I'm sure Potter is fine. It's probably something he received from those reckless Weasley twins."

"Yes, all right. It is better to be prepared for everything. Thanks for the warning, Severus," Poppy said through a forced smile.

The potions master nodded before escaping to the floo where it whisked him away back to his quarters and the frightening puzzle known as Potter.

A rough tongue licked his cheek, startling Harry from his blissful nap. "Go away, Crookshanks," he grumbled, burrowing further into the covers. The cat's nails dug into his shoulder as he moved, and he reached for the offending fat cat to hit air. Huh? Crookshanks was huge, how could he miss her?

"Meow."

Emerald eyes shot open. That was not Crookshanks. He reached blindly for his glasses with his right hand hitting the bare nightstand instead. Where did his glasses go? He always kept them on the front corner nearest to him on the nightstand. Harry pushed himself up to his knees, using his limited vision to locate his glasses. He really had horrible eyesight and the darkness only made it worse. Couldn't he have inherited his mother's eyesight along with the color of her eyes?

Why was it so dark? He couldn't have slept the whole day away. Hermione and Ron would've never allowed it. Well Hermione might've, but Ron wanted to get a few games of quidditch in. Reaching over to the nightstand again, Harry ran his right hand along its smooth wooden surface, too smooth to be his nightstand in Gryffindor Tower.

He scrambled to find something, anything that would give him a clue to where he was. His legs tangled in the bedcovers, throwing him off balance until he almost toppled off the bed. Harry's breathing sped up, his hands groping around him until at last his hand found something. His wand!

Harry grabbed his holly wand, feeling the familiar warmness unique to his wand before uttering a lumos. A dim light emitted from his wandtip, about half the brightness his lumos normally produced. The teen groaned, but at least the spell had worked. He wasn't as defenseless as he could be. Moving his wand around to survey his surroundings, Harry's eye caught the light reflecting off of something. His glasses! He pulled the frames onto his face, allowing his eyes to adjust.

It wasn't much better. It was still too dark to see anything other than shapes. He stood up from the bed. Perhaps the door would be unlocked and there'd be light out there. Harry couldn't be somewhere that dangerous if they left him his wand, or maybe they knew it was near useless to him anyway. The thought made him shiver.

The small trek to the door fatigued Harry despite just waking up. Why was he so tired and cold? Not noticing it until now, his skin was prickled with Goosebumps. It was almost summer, not winter. He shouldn't be cold. He remembered Pomfrey's words about his core depletion, but she didn't mention he'd be this tired or forget important things like where he was. He stopped with his hand on the cool metal door handle, catching his breath. Whatever was out there, he needed to be alert and ready, not weak.

When his breathing became normal, Harry cracked open the door cursing the heavy piece of wood for creaking. "Come on out, Potter," Snape said, his voice devoid of any sign of hatred or sarcasm. In fact, had he detected a hint of worry in his professor's tone?

Bloody Hell! There had to be something wrong if Snape sounded worried.

Harry considered running back to the bed with the unfamiliar cat. It had to be a nightmare. Snape worried? About him? The Gryffindor golden boy? Impossible. And did that mean he was in Snape's quarters? Why? Did the bastard slip him something to get his revenge? The teen gulped as he felt for his clothes, his hands finding his familiar beat-up pair of jeans and tee shirt. Whew. One possible reason scratched off the list.

Just as Harry debated his next move, the potions master himself opened the door, a burst of much needed light coming with him. Harry wrapped his arms around himself, taking a step back, waiting for Snape's tirade. He never escaped the man without one it seemed.

"Did you sleep well?" Snape asked without his trademark sneer.

Harry blanched. Snape being nice? "Yeah, er, yes, sir," Harry forced out. He felt Snape eye him from head to toe making Harry wonder if this were how potions ingredients felt before being chopped up by Snape. He averted his gaze to the bed, anything to get the man's analyzing dark eyes off him. The kitten! "Professor, is that your cat?"

"Yes, but I will have you know she is no ordinary cat, and it would be to your advantage not to scream to the school about my white, fluffy furball," Snape warned. There was that snarky undertone Harry was used to. His felt his shoulders relax. "Perhaps, one day this summer I shall tell you about Flurry." Summer? Merlin! Harry's memory of the night before came crashing down to him. He was to spend the entire summer with the greasy git! "...is expecting us."

No! He'd rather spend the summer with the Dursleys than stay with Snape. He backed up, wishing to flee, but the bloody bat was blocking the door. Harry's legs hit the desk. He had nowhere to go and Snape kept advancing on him. Without a thought to the consequences, Harry whipped out his wand. "Stupefy!" he yelled aiming at Snape's chest.

Only nothing happened. Not even a spark of red light.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled again with his professor an arm's length away. Nothing again. His arm trembled and his eyes darted around the room. There had to be some way to escape. "Back off!" Harry tried, lying to himself that the wet things he felt sliding down his cheeks were not tears. He refused to cry in front of anyone, especially Snape. The professor didn't budge. "Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Reducto!" Still nothing. He froze with his arm and wand extended, his eyes staring at the holly wand that refused to emit a spark. Fear mixed with disbelief rushed through him, leaving him to wonder if Pomfrey was wrong, and he really was dying.

Severus stared in fear at the boy in front of him. Potter's magic had failed him. Three times! What did that mean? Was the brat losing his magic? Poppy was needed, but first Severus had to deal with the boy.

Snapping his mask back in place, Severus assessed the situation. It was necessary to get Potter calmed down enough to take to the Hospital Wing for he had no answers for the wizard, but first Severus needed to get that wand before Potter did something to it. Severus slowly raised his hand to Potter's wand, moving an inch at a time to not scare the young wizard. He wrapped his hand around it, his hand grazing the smaller, trembling one before sliding it out of Potter's hand. He tucked the wand in his robes to give back to Potter later. The whole time the boy hadn't moved, hadn't even protested when Severus took his wand. Did Potter even realize what just happened?

"Potter, calm down," Severus tried to breakthrough to him. He had no personal experience in calming down teenagers. He always waited until his students finished crying before attempting anything. "Madame Pomfrey is waiting for us. She'll figure it out, Potter."

The teen continued standing there like a statue. It made Severus uncomfortable. What should he do? Hug the boy until they realized how much they hated each other? He looked at his student taking in his appearance. Potter had lost weight in the past few weeks, his skin looked like it hadn't seen sun in weeks, and a nasty bruise colored his upper right arm. Had he done that this morning? No, Severus distinctly remembered pulling Potter down to the dungeons by his left arm. Potter looked dreadful, and Severus found himself feeling bad for Potter against his will.

"Harry," Severus said in a low, calming tone as he placed his hands on either side of the teen's shoulders. "Look at me." Glassy emerald eyes full of confusion and fear met his own. "Take a deep breath." Severus listened for Potter to deepen his breathing pattern, afraid that if he broke eye contact with the boy, then Potter would return to his frozen state. "That's right. Keep breathing."

A few minutes passed with the two of them standing there before the teen tugged against Severus' hold, turning away to compose himself. Severus took a few steps back to make them both more comfortable. He waited while Potter dried his eyes and likely searched for his pride before he cleared his throat to get Potter's attention. "Sit down," Severus suggested motioning to the bed.

Taking his advice, the teen sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes glued to the floor while his hands clenched and twisted the edge of the covers. Potter's cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he looked like he wanted to shrink away. "While you were sleeping, I took the liberty of perusing your file," Severus said, waiting for Potter's indignation. Potter surprised him by pretending to ignore him. "I believe as well as you must that there is something more going on than core depletion. I've found a few clues, but Madame Pomfrey is needed to investigate further." Severus watched Harry tense. "It's most likely nothing a potion or two can't fix," he lied to reassure the boy.

Merlin, they should admit him to St. Mungo's psych ward now. He never lied to make someone feel better. "Come, the sooner we go, the sooner you'll have your answers."

"Okay," Potter answered, his voice sounding choked and forced. Snape escorted the teen to his floo. He held Potter's right arm as he threw down the floo powder, not trusting Potter to not get lost in the castle's floo network. With a call out to their destination, they were off to the Hospital Wing where with a bit of luck the answers lay.

Sitting on the edge of the familiar hospital bed with a white blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Harry dangled his feet while waiting for Pomfrey to begin whatever scans Snape mentioned. He stared at the wall, ignoring Snape and Pomfrey's whisperings that were most definitely about him. Harry was terrified, and he felt horribly alone. Sirius should be there with him, cracking a joke to distract him from the scary, abandoned Hospital Wing and all of Pomfrey's instruments that he never noticed before.

Adjacent to the bed sat a rolling tray covered in a sheet. Harry thought he could make out shapes that appeared to be needles and syringes under the sheet, but he couldn't be sure. It scared him. Harry never saw Pomfrey use needles before. More than anything Harry wished he had someone like Mrs. Weasley there for him. Maybe not someone as smothering, but a person that cared just for him and would reassure him however he needed to be reassured or comforted, but no one was coming for him. His parents and godfather were dead.

"Harry dear," Pomfrey said, crouching down to his level, "sit back and try to relax. These scans shouldn't hurt a bit."

He nodded, situating himself to recline in the hospital bed. To his surprise, Snape summoned a chair and sat down on the opposite side of his bed, taking Harry's shaking hand. Harry resisted the urge to snatch his hand back. Despite the calloused hand belonging to his hated professor, Harry found the gesture oddly comforting, and he was too nervous to question the professor's motives.

"Would you like me to fetch someone for you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry thought about Snape's offer. Summoning Hermione would result in him having to deal with Hermione's worries as while as his own, something he knew he couldn't handle and Ron's tendency to blow up over the smallest things hardly proved promising or what he needed. He also didn't want his friends to know.

Ever since the Ministry event and the subsequent reveal of the prophecy, Harry found himself not quite loathing his friends' presence, but not quite welcoming it either. He wanted to be alone in a castle where that task proved to be impossible. Ron or Hermione followed him everywhere resulting in him not dealing with anything yet. It was too hard to think about not ever seeing his godfather again or what the prophecy and Voldemort's public return meant.

Adding all that to his wonky magic, sleepless nights, end of term exams, and generally feeling like a trampled chocolate frog left Harry off kilter. Not that he'd admit it to anyone. He just wanted to make it to summer when he could sort himself out. But those thoughts were before Snape escorted him up here. Now, all that seemed trivial to whatever was going on with him. It had to be something bad if Snape was being nice.

Maybe Remus, but Harry hated bothering his former professor right after Sirius' death. Dumbledore was out of the question. He wasn't up to apologizing to the Headmaster for trashing his office, and he was still mad at him for the way Dumbledore treated him all year.

"No," Harry swallowed, his mind screaming at him that his answer meant Snape staying. Somehow, he didn't mind it as much as he should when the other part of his mind reminded him that Snape was the one who believed something was wrong, forcing Harry to seek answers for his wonky magic.

"Severus, perhaps you should fetch Minerva. I may need your assistance later, and she should be informed anyway as his Head of House," Poppy suggested as she wrote down some numbers on a clipboard.

"Of course," Severus said before turning to Harry. "Will you be fine for a few minutes?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. After all, it was only a few scans. Severus stood up, releasing Harry's hand, but Harry refused to admit missing the potions stained hand. As bizarre as the comforting gesture was from Snape, it still helped lessen his anxiety a little. But Snape left the ward leaving Harry no choice but to wonder what Pomfrey was doing to him.

The mediwitch waved her wand over him looking at some display that Pomfrey must be able to see, but he couldn't. He wished he knew what she was looking for. Deep down, Harry had a feeling that a potion or two wouldn't solve whatever was wrong with him.

"Oh," Pomfrey blanched before regaining her composure a split second later, too late for Harry not to notice.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked Pomfrey who began scribbling furiously.

"Nothing for you to worry about," Pomfrey stated, stopping her writing to squeeze his hand. "It just means I need to run a few more tests, but first I have a few questions for you to answer. Do you think you could do that for me?"

Pulling the blanket around him tighter, Harry nodded shivering.

"How remiss of me!" Pomfrey fretted about the wing for a thicker blanket. "Here, dear. Your temperature is a tiny bit higher than normal; tiny enough that I assumed it wasn't caused by a fever."

Harry relished in the warmth brought on by the extra blanket Pomfrey spread over him. "Thank you."

"If you need anything, Harry, don't be afraid to ask. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry responded though he knew he wouldn't. He learned at a young age not to ask for anything.

"Good," Pomfrey said, giving him a small smile while perching on the edge of the bed, clipboard and never out quill in hand. "How long have you been feeling off? Not normal?"

"I don't know," Harry responded with a shrug. He really didn't know, and couldn't tell how much of what he felt was because of his godfather.

"I know it's hard, Harry, but tell me about anything that's not normal for you. I'll be able to discern if it's important or not."

Harry thought for a moment how to start and where, but decided it was best to start before O.W.L.S. "I guess about a month or so ago with the visions. You know I was taking Dreamless Sleep a few nights a week, but on the nights I didn't take it, I didn't sleep much, if at all. I wanted to know," Harry's voice cracked as he looked down at his hands.

"Go on, Harry. It's okay," Pomfrey reassured him, patting his leg.

"I wanted to know what they meant even though they were awful. I wouldn't sleep after I woke up from one, and the days started to blur together. I was tired all the time and probably didn't eat, as I should've. Hermione kept urging me to eat more, but I couldn't. After dinner, I had detention with Umbridge most nights, and then I'd scramble to do my homework before bed," Harry rubbed the back of his right hand where his newest scar lay.

"Were you cold often then?"

"I don't remember. If I was, I ignored it."

"You never came to me for what that horrible witch did to your hand, but did you notice anything different about yours compared to your classmates?" Pomfrey asked testing the waters.

"Not really. I think it might've bled a little longer, but I think that's because I had more detentions with her than anyone else." Harry sighed placing his scared hand under the blanket, out of sight. He didn't see how any of this had anything to do with his wonky magic.

"And when did you notice a change in your magic?" Pomfrey asked. "Be honest."

"Around the same time. It wasn't anything at first. My spells seemed less powerful, but not noticeably. It got worse until at times my spells failed." Thinking back to earlier, Harry wondered what happened to his wand. Did Snape have it?

"Like this morning?"

"Yes, but it happened once before," Harry admitted, struggling to come up with the right words to tell Pomfrey that he had tried to cast an Unforgivable.

"Go on, Harry. It's important," Pomfrey urged.

"I tried to Crucio Bellatrix Lestrange at the Ministry, but nothing happened. I promise," Harry blurted out, his words running together.

"Child, it's all right. I'm not here to judge," Pomfrey reassured him, taking his left hand into hers. "I'd like to show her a thing or two myself."

Harry cracked a small smile while pulling his hand from the mediwitch. He brought his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs, and rested his head on his knees. "I'm not a child," Harry insisted. He never was.

Pomfrey nodded, conceding Harry's point. "Thank you for answering."

"Do you know what's wrong with me?" Why was it taking so long? Usually Pomfrey knew after a flick of her wand, and her lack of answers did nothing to calm Harry's nerves.

"Not yet. I need to run a few Muggle tests, but I was waiting for Professors Snape and McGonagall."

"Muggle tests? Why?" Did that mean he was a Muggle now? Was his magic gone forever? Harry tugged his knees closer.

"Your magical scans show," Pomfrey paused before treading carefully, "well, they don't show that anything's wrong. Sometimes even wizards and witches have to rely on Muggle diagnostics. It's just to make sure, dear."

"Oh, so my magic's not gone forever and I'm not a Muggle now?" Harry asked needing Pomfrey to tell him his thoughts were ludicrous.

"No," Pomfrey confirmed, looking at him with a thoughtful eye. She held out her wand handle first. "Take my wand, Harry."

The teen took the wand feeling a warm tingle creep up his arm. It wasn't the same feeling as when he held his own wand, but he felt its magic nonetheless. He sighed with relief while handing the wand back to the mediwitch. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Tell me, have you ever had any medical tests done in the Muggle world?" Pomfrey asked as she pocketed her wand.

"No," Harry admitted. "Are they going to hurt?"

"Some may feel uncomfortable, but they shouldn't hurt more than when you stab yourself with a sharp quill, and if they do I can give you a pain potion. Do not be afraid to ask."

Harry nodded, his answer confirmed. Pomfrey planned to use needles. He shivered.

"Are you still cold?" Pomfrey asked, jumping up to search for another blanket.

"No, I don't like needles." Harry didn't just not like needles; they gave him the creeps. Just the thought of the sharp metal object piercing his skin made his breathing speed up.

"I don't think anyone does. Don't worry. Professor Snape is very good at drawing blood," Pomfrey said looking towards the door. "He should be back any minute."

Harry's face whitened in panic. Snape was going to take a needle to him? The greasy git would be more likely to cause pain than prevent it for Harry. But then, the professor acted differently this morning.

"Professor Snape is a professional, Harry. He won't let his feelings towards you affect the procedure," Pomfrey summoned a glass of water. "Drink this."

Harry took the glass and sipped, the cool liquid sliding down his throat felt wonderful. "Why does it have to be Professor Snape?"

"He has more experience in Muggle healing methods. Part of becoming a potions master involves studying basic healing, but Professor Snape continued that part of his education. While not a fully trained mediwizard, your professor holds credentials that allow him to treat basic to moderate conditions. A class or two and Professor Snape could have my job. Years ago right after You-Know-Who was defeated the first time, Professor Snape spent quite a few of his summers in the Muggle world furthering his education in healing," Pomfrey explained.

"Are you sure this is the same Professor Snape we're talking about?" Harry could see the potions master furthering his education. The man was perhaps more book smart than Hermione, but in healing? Snape didn't come close to having the bedside manner needed in healing people.

"Yes. I believe he had said that the Muggle education furthered his understanding of potions as well."

Now that was something Harry could believe, and as if on cue Snape slipped into the Hospital Wing followed by McGonagall. "Hello, Harry," his Head of House greeted, coming to sit in the chair vacated earlier by Snape.

"Hello, Professor," Harry replied before starting to bite his bottom lip. Now that Snape was there, surely the poking and prodding would begin. Setting down his glass in anticipation, Harry turned to McGonagall. "Thanks for coming." He didn't know why he was thanking her. It was her duty, but it was nice to have someone there besides Pomfrey and Snape.

"You don't have to thank me, Harry." There was his name again. All day Pomfrey had been addressing him by Harry, and he didn't think he imagined Snape letting his first name slip once in the dungeons either. That worried him. Maybe they were all lying to him in an effort to pawn him off so they didn't have to be the one to tell him he was dying.

"Are you ready to begin then, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked from across the room sans black robes where he slipped on white stretchy gloves that resembled the one Dudley once brought home from Hospital filled up like a balloon.

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Lay back," Pomfrey told him, helping him to get situated and comfortable. He felt McGonagall take his right hand, squeezing it to let him know she was there if he needed her. Harry gulped as Snape appeared above him. The man really was scary when he towered over you.

"I'm going to take a few phials of blood. You'll feel one pin prick and before you know it, it will be over," Snape explained. "Just lie back and talk to Professor McGonagall. I'm sure you could convince her to release your Transfiguration grade early."

Who was this weird Snape who tried to set him at ease, and what happened to the snarky potions master? It was strange.

"Severus," McGonagall chided. "What if I didn't have his test graded yet?"

"I saw it sitting on your desk," Severus answered as he grabbed the tourniquet from the tray.

"Professor?" Harry asked his Head of House. He hadn't thought about his grades, but now that Snape mentioned it he was curious. "Did I do okay?"

"Not a word to anyone. I refuse to have all my students knocking on my office door demanding their grades," McGonagall warned.

"Of course not, Professor," Harry agreed as he felt the tourniquet being tied around his left arm, above his elbow.

"An E. Both for your end of term exam and term grade. You were a few points short on your exam for an O, but you should be proud nonetheless. Provided your O.W.L.S. are satisfactory, I'll be seeing you in class for the next two years."

Harry smiled, distracted from the cool alcohol swab rubbing a spot on his arm. He got an E. Better than he thought he had done. He was hoping he had slid by with an A. The last few weeks of terms were brutal on him with everything that happened.

Flinching at a pinch to his arm, Harry evaluated how his O.W.L.S. had gone. Perhaps there was some hope he could still be an Auror. He knew it all depended on his Potions grade, and for that he needed a miracle to occur. It was too much to hope for his potion sample to be lost, and Snape being forced to admit Harry into his N.E.W.T. level Potions class.

"All done, Mr. Potter," Snape broke through his thoughts.

"Really?" Harry said, not meaning to say it out loud. Nothing had hurt.

"Yes, Potter. Madame Pomfrey is taking the samples to her office to evaluate now. She should have the results in a few minutes," Snape explained snapping off the white latex gloves.

After disposing his gloves and the used syringe, Severus walked to the floo. It was lunchtime and although he wasn't very hungry himself, it was imperative Potter ate. The boy was too thin to miss a meal. He floo called the kitchens, ordering soup and sandwiches to be sent up with some orange juice. It was a little known fact the Hogwarts Kitchens stocked juices other than pumpkin juice, and Potter would benefit from the vitamin rich refreshment. A few minutes later as the over exuberant house-elves jumped at any request made of them, a tray popped up in front of the floo filled with Severus' order. 

Severus levitated the tray over to Potter's bed, setting it down on the side table. Serving his colleague and student before himself, Severus made his own plate.

"Orange juice?" Harry exclaimed in a surprised happy tone. "I never knew you could ask the house-elves for orange juice. Thank you, sir."

"And how would you know how to ask the house-elves Potter?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't listen to him, Mr. Potter. Most students who pass through here learn how to reach the kitchens. It is not a crime whilst done before curfew," Minerva said, shooting him a glare. Perhaps he deserved that one. He had coerced her into revealing Potter's grade. "Eat up. I'm sure if you wish for some more orange juice, Professor Snape will kindly ask the house-elves to send up some more."

Severus rolled his eyes. He hadn't meant for his remark to come across as if he was displeased with the boy. Why would he discipline a student for searching out food? It was essential for growing teenagers to get enough to eat, not to mention the added benefit it had of making his students more alert in his class.

A startled cry followed by a loud crash came from Pomfrey's office before the mediwitch darted out of her office, heading straight for the floo and the Headmaster's office. Severus and Minerva looked at each other before he strode into Poppy's office leaving Minerva to deal with Potter. Almost afraid to look, Severus approached Poppy's workbench where her diagnostic spell still hung in the air, the results written in sparkling gold lettering. Leukemia.  

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. 

Lingering after Potter fell asleep to make sure the boy didn't need a painkiller gave Severus time to reflect back on the procedure. Those helpless eyes so full of pain had cracked open an iron shut door Severus promised himself to keep shut after Lily's death.

He looked back at Potter. The boy appeared fragile, certainly shorter than most of his year mates. And thin! The child's ribs jutted out when Potter's body wasn't hidden under layer after layer of clothing. Severus found it hard to believe the child was a few months shy of sixteen. Had the child always looked this way and he failed to notice it, too concerned with pinning the child as his father's clone?

But Severus realized for the first time the boy wasn't his childhood enemy or anyone like him. James Potter would've kicked and screamed over that bone marrow biopsy where as his son more than sucked it up. The child hadn't even questioned the necessity of the test, just went with it.

In fact, the boy's latest actions reminded Severus more of himself as a teen than James Potter. Severus immediately reneged that thought all together. Potter won over Lily in the end. It was preposterous to think Lily might've carried his child instead of Potter's. His Lily. The same Lily that lived on in her sick, orphaned child.

Severus rubbed his temples feeling a headache forming. He refused to think about Lily and what might have been. That chapter in his life was over long ago, and there was nothing he could do to change it. So why was a buried memory refusing to stay buried? Instead it flapped and swirled around like a teasing snitch.

Having no other choice, Severus brought the memory forward and immersed himself into it. He found himself starting at his teenaged self and Lily during their fourth year.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin sat on the ground atop the astronomy tower huddled under blankets to keep out the cold. Flurries floated down from the sky as the sun set, giving way to moonlight.

"It was so horrible, Sev," Lily cried curled into Severus' side.

"What happened Lily? Why did you disappear early for Christmas holidays?" Severus asked holding Lily close as she cried onto his shoulder. Her curtain of dark auburn hair sheltered her from the world.

"Jesse, the leukemia it killed him!"

Severus gasped, stunned. "But the doctors said he was doing better."

"They were wrong," Lily forced out in between sobs. "He was so small and helpless when I saw him. It's why Mum and Dad pulled me out early. So I could say good-bye."

"Oh, Lily," Severus pulled her closer, rocking her in his arms where she fit perfectly.

"It was so scary, Sev. There was nothing we could do, but let the doctors keep him comfortable until he died two days before Christmas."

"I'm so sorry," Severus whispered into her hair that smelled like fresh berries, sweet like her.

"But the worst was on Christmas Day when Mum and Dad encouraged us to open our gifts. Jesse's were still wrapped and waiting for him under the tree."

Severus violently ripped himself out of the memory leaving him feeling nauseous with a headache from hell. He swallowed down the bile at the back of his throat before downing several potions from Poppy's stores. He had forgotten all about Jesse, Lily's brother who died of leukemia at age three. How could he forget the little boy Lily adored and always had stories to tell Severus about?

More importantly, it was all but confirmed Lily's son had the same cancer her beloved baby brother died from. Severus cursed fate. The same disease that ruined Lily's favorite holiday forever now threatened to take her son, her son with her brilliant emerald eyes.

The same eyes he knew would continue to haunt him except in Harry. Severus couldn't continue to treat the child, the same one who looked at him so desperately in pain while he was helpless to end it, like he had treated him for five years. It was worse than seeing small children killed in Death Eater raids because he knew the boy, even if it most of their time spent together ended in Severus' rage, and as the boy's eyes reminded him, Lily's son.

Severus knew what he had to do. He had to ensure that Lily's sick child survived. To make sure the boy lived to become a man if only for Lily and the promise of happy Christmases to come. Determined to see to it, Severus left Harry to sleep to start developing the treatment plan to save Lily's son.

Harry woke up to a darkened Hospital Wing and pain in his lower back. "Careful," Snape warned him as he started to move. He felt Snape's arms around his back, helping him to sit up. The hands were gentle as if he were a delicate potions ingredient. "Here," Snape placed his glasses into his hand. 

"Thank you, sir," Harry croaked. Snape handed Harry a glass of water, which he sipped glad to wash away the icky coating left in his throat and mouth from sleep. "How long was I asleep? I didn't mean to."

"A few hours, but it's quite all right Potter. You needed it," Snape cut him off before he could apologize further.

Harry blushed in embarrassment. It felt like all he was doing lately was sleeping. Not that it did any good. He was just as tired as when he fell asleep. Had Snape stayed by his side the entire time? Surely not, the man had better things to do than sit with him, right? 

Silence fell between the two, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Harry let his mind wake up before trying to figure out a way to ask if the results were in yet. "Um, sir?" he stuttered, "the test?"

"Are you fully awake then?" the Potions Master asked, and Harry noticed his professor seemed to avert his gaze to anywhere but at him. Was it so bad the professor couldn't even stand to look at him anymore?

"Yes, sir," he confirmed. He wished Snape would just blurt it out.

"Then Madame Pomfrey is waiting for you," Snape said offering his hand to help Harry off the procedure table.

"Sir?" Harry asked, his fear rising. Why couldn't Snape just tell him?

"Come, Potter. Madame Pomfrey will tell you the results," Harry relented accepting Snape's help off the table. "And Potter, I'm here if you need someone."

Did Snape really say that? To him? Harry Potter?

Harry felt like he was facing that Muggle execution device that chopped of the victim's head. The gui...guil something. He was scared of what lie on the other side of the door. Harry wanted to go back to yesterday when his wonky magic was just that, wonky, not something that required scans and needles. But a nudge to his back reminded him he couldn't hide from the truth forever.

Stiffly, Harry made his way back into the main area of the Hospital Wing. McGonagall sat at the foot of the bed that might as well be considered his, conversing quietly with Pomfrey. Both appeared misty-eyed as they looked up at him, abruptly cutting off their conversation. Harry gulped. That was never good news.

"Come sit down beside me, Harry," McGonagall said, patting the bed next to her. Harry crossed the room, a slight limp to his gait. Was it supposed to hurt this much? It was a deep pain, one he felt down to his bone.

 He sat down beside his Head of House who immediately starting fussing over him. "Are you warm enough? We'll just wrap this around your shoulders." McGonagall rambled wrapping a blanket around him before he could even answer.

While his Head of House was as loyal to Gryffindor as a parent to her children, the witch was stern, and wasn't an affectionate Head of House like Sprout with her Hufflepuffs. Through all his years and near-death adventures, she never lost her sternness and more importantly, McGonagall never fussed over a student. It was unnerving.

"Minerva," Snape snapped.

"Oh, sorry," McGonagall apologized, snatching her hands from him.

"It's okay," Harry reassured his professor before turning his attention to Pomfrey. "Ma'am?"

Pomfrey gave him a sad smile while she kneeled in front of him. "Did you study the body in Muggle primary?"

Harry blinked. What kind of question was that? "A little. We learned some of the names of bones and things like that. I don't remember much," he paused trying to figure out why she'd ask that question. "Are you trying to tell me I need another test and need to know how to explain it?"

"No, dear. No more tests," Pomfrey said taking his hands into hers.

"Then you know what I have?" Harry asked.

Pomfrey nodded. "You have a Muggle disease that magical scans cannot detect."

"But Professor Snape can make a potion, right?" Harry asked wondering how horrible it would taste. Potions could heal everything. That's what Snape basically preached in his first Potions class.

"Harry, do you know what cancer is?" Pomfrey asked, avoiding his question. Harry shook his head feeling McGonagall throw an arm around him, pulling him close to her side. He started to tremble not liking whatever this cancer thing was. "It's a disease affecting your cells. Do you know what cells are?"

"The building blocks of life," Harry remembered from a Muggle science class.

"That is correct, dear. Now, with cancer, cells start to go a little haywire and attack your body."

"So this thing, cancer, it's bad? Like cancer itself is Voldemort and the bad cells are his Death Eaters?" he tried to wrap his brain around the concept.

"That is one way to look at it, a very original way to describe it, but yes, that is quite accurate." Pomfrey reasoned.

Harry shrugged. Most of his thoughts revolved around Voldemort lately, so it wasn't a surprise that's what he came up with first.

"There are different kinds of cancers depending on where those cells, cancer cells originate. Some cancers are in the blood and one type is called leukemia," Pomfrey stopped to take a deep breath, and Harry knew what she was going to say next. "Acute lymphoblastic leukemia or ALL is what you have, Harry."

Before Harry could comprehend what it meant, he was engulfed by both McGonagall's and Pomfrey's arms. Harry searched for Snape. His professor stood leaning against the wall, blending into the shadows, and Harry gave him a pleading look.

"Poppy, Minerva," Severus scolded, "Give Potter room to breathe."

They retreated, but continued to hover over him.

Cancer. His body had its own Voldemort and pack of Death Eaters. As if one wasn't enough. But was cancer a wannabe Voldemort or a full-fledged dark lord? Would this be the Voldemort that killed him before the real one got his hands on him?

Terrified, Harry hugged his knees to chest, creating his own little bubble of personal space. "I just need to take a few potions, and I'll be better, right? My cells will go back to normal and my magic, too. This is the reason for my magic, isn't it?"

"It is," Snape confirmed stepping forward, his voice steady yet laced with sympathy. "Unfortunately, Harry, a potion or two isn't going to get rid of your cancer. Rarely does a wizard have cancer, few enough that potions haven't been created to treat it."

What? No potions? Impossible. Snape could develop one, and he'd be fine. As much as Harry detested potions, Snape knew his subject.

"Instead, Muggle medications will be used for treatment. Some of them are nasty and may make you feel worse before you feel better, but it's the only way to get rid of the cancer cells," the Potions Master explained.

"I'm dying?" Harry blurted out wishing to flee, scream, and disappear all at the same time. He didn't want to die. Harry wasn't ready; he had so much left to do.

Snape placed a finger under his chin, forcing him to look into Snape's eyes. "Listen to me. You are not going to die," Snape whispered in a voice that made Harry believe the professor would obliterate each and every one of his cancer cells before letting him die. "You will beat this."

"Yes, sir," Harry responded automatically feeling himself sink into blissful numbness. "Your treatments are scheduled to start Sunday, and we will discuss them in further detail tomorrow morning. Potter?"

Harry didn't respond, not really hearing Snape's words. Instead, he escaped into himself, clearing his mind to protect himself behind a thick layer of slippery ice where cancer Voldemort couldn't get him. Snape would be proud.

Potter was going to breakdown. There was no question if, the only variable remained when. Severus sighed, dropping the conversation he was trying to have with the child who withdrew into himself. It was no use. The boy wasn't listening to him anyways.

He glared at Poppy and Minerva. The two hadn't helped when they practically smothered him. "I'm taking him back to my quarters," Severus declared ready to be back in the safety of his dungeons, away from his emotional colleagues. It would also give the child some breathing room, but no, he wasn't doing it for Potter...Harry. He was doing it for himself.

"Is that best, Severus?" Poppy piped up. "Perhaps, it would be better for him to stay here, at least overnight. Minerva could retrieve Harry's friends. I'm sure they're worried sick about him."

"It'll be Potter's decision when and if he decides to tell his friends, and I don't think he's up for visitors. I am taking him," Severus repeated, gathering up the underweight child in his arms, his strong arms holding the boy tightly against him. "Minerva, I expect you'll be able to come up with a believable lie for Harry's friends?"

"Yes, Severus. Take good care of him," Minerva said on the verge of tears.

Severus restrained from snapping back at the Deputy Headmistress knowing she was only voicing her concern over her favorite student, not suggesting he'd do otherwise.

"I will." And with that declaration, Severus escaped into the floo carrying the precious cargo entrusted to him. 

Severus did not expect to be met with a house-elf when he stepped into his quarters. The creature startled the retired spy into almost losing his hold on Potter, but Severus' honed reflexes were quick and within a millisecond the boy was settled safely in his arms once again. "Dobby did to Harry Potter's room as Professor Snape said, sir, but Dobby need more instruction for the rest," the little house-elf reported.

The Potions Master nodded glad that Potter's room was finished. He had no desire to give up his own room to Potter for the night. "I will call upon you tomorrow to see to the rest. You are dismissed."

"Yes, sir. Dobby glad to be of help," the creature said before popping out of his quarters.

Despite the boy's slight weight, he was getting heavy. Severus shooed Flurry off the sofa, laying Potter there before heading to his small kitchen, one of the things on his list of modifications for his quarters.

First things first, Severus needed to coax the boy into eating dinner, and he had had enough of dealing with people or house-elves for the day so flooing the kitchens was out of the question. Severus searched through his cupboards, inventorying his stocks as he went. There wasn't much despite his enjoyment of cooking.  It was like potions except tastier and less explosive. He never cooked much during the school year, though, since his presence was all but required at the Staff Table during meals.

Finding a tin of vegetable soup, Severus went about heating it up to serve. His homemade soups were better, but the tinned version would do for tonight, and it was likely Potter wouldn't each much anyway. Once ready, Severus placed two filled bowls on a tray with crackers, a pitcher of water, and two glasses. With a wave of his hand, he sent the tray levitating into the sitting room and onto the coffee table.

Now onto the hard part getting Potter to actually eat. Severus was surprised the boy hadn't had an emotional outburst to the diagnosis, and almost preferred it to this numb, unresponsive Potter. He sighed. It just meant that when Potter cracked, it was going to be a spectacular show most likely in his presence for him to deal with. Although, Severus was gathering that might be a good thing for Potter even if it wasn't for him if Poppy's and Minerva's actions at the diagnosis were any indication.

Kneeling down in front of the sofa, he shook the teen's shoulder hoping for a response. "Potter... Harry, it's safe to come out," Severus said holding back the urge to slit his own throat. He couldn't believe his own words to James Potter's spawn! No, Severus reminded himself. Lily's son.

But for the first time, Severus knew he was seeing the child as just Harry, not his former enemy's son. A sick child entrusted into his care, to be responsible for making the boy's medical decisions, and more importantly as he had promised to Lily's memory hours earlier to make sure the boy lived to become a man. It was a startling revelation one that Severus couldn't believe happened so quickly, but as the Muggle saying went cancer changes everything.

He didn't doubt they'd continue to argue. They both had short fuses as far as tempers went, but ever since Severus scanned Potter's magical levels, Severus found his attitude towards Potter changed. And he couldn't get past those eyes. For years, Severus avoided looking past those dreadful glasses and into the fiery emeralds. Even during Occlumency lessons, Severus blocked them out, disassociating Potter from being connected to Lily. But today he couldn't and Lily's expressive eyes were never meant for tears or to show fear like he had seen in Potter. Laughter, happiness, and even a hint of mischief, Lily was no saint, belonged in those eyes.

"Harry," Severus tried again snapping his fingers in front of the boy's eyes. The teen blinked, and that was the response Severus was looking for. "Sit up, it's time to eat."

The Potions Master cursed himself as Potter winced in pain while he sat up. He should've given him a painkiller before he let Potter leave the procedure room, but that wasn't an easy fix in his quarters, as Harry couldn't have any potions in his system in preparation for his treatment due to potential and hazardous complications from mixing the two. Severus' emergency bottle of Muggle painkillers used when he had taken too many pain potions in a short amount of time to be safe, rolled somewhere out of sight after his return from his very last Death Eater meeting, and he'd forgotten to retrieve it since. Most likely it was stuck in a corner or under something somewhere after Flurry batted around the bottle as if it were a toy, making it resistant to summoning.

Instead, Severus transfigured a throw pillow into a cold compress before handing it to Potter. "Place it on your back. After dinner, I'll search for a painkiller for you."

"Thank you, sir. But you don't need to, I'll be fine," Harry insisted though his relaxation from the instant the cold compress touched his back proved otherwise.

"Nonsense," Severus waved the boy off. "It won't take long, and it'll help you sleep better. Now eat." He sat on the coffee table and took his own bowl, not about to be accused of being a hypocrite.

"I'm not hungry. Can I just go back to Gryffindor? I need to start packing," Potter said, standing up from the sofa.

"Packing? Where do you think you're going? The house-elves can pack for you," Severus asked confused.

"Oh. Well, I guess I could let them do it," Harry rambled.

"Potter, sit down!" Severus snapped, not meaning to make the boy flinch. "You're not going anywhere."

"What? But my treatments? Won't I have to go to St. Mungo's?" Ah, the boy thought they'd just ship him off because he was sick.

"Harry, your treatments will happen here. Poppy is consulting with a specialist from St. Mungo's that you will meet later in the week, but the medications will be sent to Hogwarts. Most of the treatments will even be administered here, in my quarters instead of the Hospital Wing where you'll be more comfortable. The specialist will floo in when she needs to, but Madame Pomfrey and I can handle the administration of them."

"Here? You mean I'm still staying with you?" Potter asked, waiting for Severus' nod. "But I thought it was just for lessons?"

"St. Mungo's is too dangerous for an extended stay, and Albus and I agree that it would be too difficult for your Muggle relatives to bring you to your treatments there," Severus explained.

"Oh," Harry said and Severus couldn't tell if the boy was happy with the situation or not.

"That is if you agree. If not something else can be arranged," Severus set aside his bowl of soup. It looked like they were going to have this conversation now rather than later. He had hoped the diagnosis would be enough for one day. Severus didn't want to push the child into a breakdown however likely one was to happen sooner or later. "I asked the Headmaster for permission to be your medical proxy. That would give me the responsibility of making your medical choices for you until you are of age. But, I know you are old enough to have at the very least an input on the decisions being made for you. I promise that I will listen to what you have to say, and this is your first chance. Do you agree to stay here this summer and let me be your medical proxy?"

Severus could see the boy's surprise at both the arrangement and asking for his input. Teenagers never did best feeling everything was out of their control, especially when as in Harry's case there were so many other things in his life he couldn't control. This was a way for Harry to be in control of something, at least partly.

"What would be expected of me, sir?" Potter asked with a flinch like he was going to be yelled at for asking.

"It will depend on how you feel that day. I expect you to keep your room tidy," Severus thought out his response. It was a good question from the teen.

"My room?" Potter asked surprised. Severus frowned. Did Potter think Severus would make him sleep on the sofa the whole summer?

"Yes, Mr. Potter, your room. I can't have you as a permanent guest taking up my sofa. Flurry would be most displeased," Severus batted the little terror away from tugging on the hem of his robes while he thought out what else he expected from Potter. "I will also expect you to have your summer assignments done in time for term to begin, and not rushed to completion in the last week. Depending on how things go, I might arrange with your teachers for you to start your lessons before term begins so that you won't have such a hard time keeping up, nor will you feel the pressure of having to complete a heavy course load in between your treatments."

"Are they going to last that long? Into term I mean?" Potter curled his legs up underneath him. Severus saw the warning in Potter's body language and looked to steer the conversation into another direction.

"I wished to wait until tomorrow to go into detail as you've taken in enough tonight, but in all likelihood you won't be attending classes at first once term starts or if you do, it'll only be a few of them. That does not mean you will fall behind," Severus assured. Keeping pace with his classmates could give Potter some sense of normalcy amidst the chaos. "Your education will be one of my priorities for you."

"Will I have chores?" The boy scooped Flurry off the floor where he settled her into his lap to pet her. Harry seemed to be as glad as Severus with a change of subject.

"Again depending on how you feel that day I may ask you to help cook or perform a few household spells which will be a good way to remind your magic what it's supposed to be doing. On some days, I may ask you to help prepare some ingredients while I brew. It will be a good way to keep your brewing skills from regressing if you don't wish to fall behind your class," Severus treaded carefully with the subject of Potions, but it would be ridiculous on all levels if the teen's brewing skills weren't improved while staying with one of Europe's premiere potions masters.

"But sir, I don't think I got an O on my O.W.L," Harry objected, defeat evident in his tone.

"Then we will have to improve your skills until you make me accept you into my class. I will not have a child under my care that doesn't at least attempt his N.E.W.T. in Potions," Severus reasoned. He would never hear the end of it from any of his potions colleagues otherwise, and Lily excelled in potions as well. There had to be talent buried in Potter somewhere.

Harry groaned.

"It won't be like in class or those disastrous Occlumency lessons. I don't have to favor Death Eater children any longer, and I tend to work better teaching a student one on one when both the student and teacher are willing to work together. There is hope for you yet. Any other questions?"

"What about my friends?" Potter paused. "Oh and Hedwig? Can she stay in my room?"

"We'll deal with your friends as it comes. I will allow you to have them visit one or two at a time, occasionally for a few hours if you are up to it, and it is safe to do so," Severus couldn't believe he'd be willing to play host to a group of Gryffindors, but it was important for Potter to keep a positive mindset. His friends would help ensure that.  "Unfortunately, I cannot allow Hedwig to stay in your room as she carries germs from outside and wherever she flies that could be dangerous to you. Germs will be your enemy. Your first priority will always be your health. Everything must come after that."

Harry's shoulders slumped and for a split second Severus felt a wave of alien emotion. Was that what it felt like disappointing someone? It had been so long that Severus had let himself feel anything but anger and hatred.

"But, Harry," Severus continued hoping to see a flicker of hope return to Harry's eyes, "if you agree to this and follow what I say even when you hate me because there will be times during your treatments that you will, I promise I will do everything possible to see you through this."

"Okay," Potter said a spark of hope and weary trust lighting up his eyes. "I want to do this."

"It is agreed then, Potter," Severus held out his hand for Potter to shake, a feeling of warmth wrapping around him. "The Headmaster will have the papers ready tomorrow, and you should be present when I sign them."

"One more thing," Potter said, withholding his hand.

"Yes?" Severus was afraid of Potter's request. Just the right look and the boy could have anything he wanted at the moment. Damn Potter for getting under his skin.

"You have to promise you'll start calling me Harry."

That was something Severus could do.

"Indeed? It may take me some time to get used to, Po...Harry. However, in class it will always be Mr. Potter or Potter."

"I understand. Agreed." Harry shook Severus' hand as if they were formalizing a business deal.

"Now, eat your dinner." Severus chided.

-------

Cracking a small smile, Harry set Flurry on the floor before digging into his soup, finding he could only stomach a few bites. "Professor?" Harry asked, pushing away his bowl.

"That is fine," Snape said banishing the dishes to the kitchen. "Are you set on returning to Gryffindor Tower or are you staying here?"

"I can stay here already?" Harry asked surprised Snape wasn't pushing him out the door despite the agreement they had come to.

"That was my original intention in bringing you down here. I didn't think you'd wish to face your friends tonight."

That was right. The cancer thing. He couldn't believe he almost forgot. Harry knew the moment he stepped into Gryffindor Tower, Hermione would be asking him questions, questions he didn't want to or know how to answer.

"Do you wish to tell you friends?" Snape asked giving Harry an opening to express his thoughts, which was weird in itself. Did he? Hermione would know all about cancer, more than he did which scared him. He knew Snape was leaving out some things and they hadn't gone over his treatments yet, not really except that he'd have them whatever they were. Ron, on the other hand, wouldn't know a thing about cancer, but Hermione would inform him before Harry could explain it himself. No, Harry didn't want his friends to know, at least not yet.

"Not really," Harry answered. "I don't want them to worry. Maybe later. I think I'll stay here tonight. You said we have things to discuss in the morning anyways."

"We do. Come, I'll show you to your room then," Snape stood up, motioning for Harry to follow him.

Harry got up gingerly, walking over to the left side of the room where a small hallway was located. He noticed Snape slowed his pace, which Harry thanked Merlin for. With his lower back hipbone area hurting, Harry knew he couldn't keep up with Snape's normally hasty pace, another good reason to not return to the tower. He'd never make it up all those steps.

"That's the entrance to my private lab," Snape pointed to the first door on the left. "It's warded so that you may enter only if I am within the lab or I am accompanying you. There are too many dangerous ingredients and potions that you may accidentally get into for me to allow you in there by yourself."

Harry didn't know if he should be offended or not, but when he thought about it, Harry wasn't. It was likely Snape still had the potions Voldemort made him brew or the ingredients for them. He shivered. No, he wouldn't be trying to break into Snape's lab anytime soon.

"This is your room," Snape said, his hand on the first door on the right, turning the doorknob. "My room is at the end of the hall should you need me. The house-elves worked on your room today while we were in the Hospital Wing, but should you wish to change something, it can be arranged."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said walking through the opened door.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. The room was huge by his standards with a large four-poster bed situated on the left wall with a nightstand on each side. A wardrobe sat on the far wall dividing the room into bedroom and sitting area complete with a large desk with enough drawers to hold all of his school supplies two times over and a chaise lounge. But Harry's favorite part of the room had to be the window seat on the bedroom side far wall with its own enchanted window displaying the grounds. All the woodwork was a matching dark wood he couldn't identify and the walls were plastered over and painted a light blue. Harry even spotted a door, which presumably led to his own bathroom!

"Is it to your liking?" Snape asked in a weird tone that made Harry believe Snape actually cared if he liked the room or not.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed before reining in his voice. This was still Snape after all. "It's the best room I've ever had, sir."

"I'll be sure to inform the house-elves that it met your satisfaction. They informed me of one trick they couldn't help but place into your room," Snape said rolling his eyes though Harry could tell Snape's display was a show. The Potions Master clapped his hands two times causing a strange soothing noise to fill the room. "Look," Snape pointed to the wall behind them.

Waves! A moving mural was painted on the wall on the bedroom side of an abandoned beach with waves rolling up on shore. It sounded more amazing than he ever imagined, like he was actually at the beach. The sound was rhythmic, soothing, and made him sleepy just listening to it. Harry with the cold compress wedged between his side and arm clapped two times to cut off the sound.

"Three claps turns the mural on and off," Snape informed him, amused.

Harry clapped three times resulting in the mural disappearing to reveal the plain blue wall. He revised his earlier decision. The mural was his favorite thing in the room.

"Get into bed. You can gawk at your mural from there," Snape nudged him towards bed, a hint of the snarky man returning. "Do you wish to read before bed or are you tired enough to fall asleep? I'll lend you a book from my library if you wish."

"You have a library?" Harry asked surprised. He expected Snape to have a lot of books, but not his own library at Hogwarts.

"Yes, perhaps I'll show it to you tomorrow. So a book?"

"No, not tonight," Harry answered. If anything he planned to watch and listen to his mural. "I'm tired."

Snape nodded. "I'll go search for that painkiller for you then."

"Sir, you really don't have to," Harry said while climbing into bed.

"I insist," Snape halted Harry from further discussion before turning on the spot and striding out of the room.

That was weird. Harry couldn't think the day could get any stranger, but he put aside all thoughts as he snuggled into the bed, his bed. It was soft with thick dark blue blankets and fluffy pillows. Warm. He clapped a total of five times and smiled before rolling onto his stomach, his head towards the mural and cold compress balanced on his back.

------

Severus trekked from Potter's, no Harry's room to pass through his own bedroom and into his bathroom, the last place he had seen his emergency bottle of painkillers. Never one to doubt logic, Severus summoned the bottle, but as expected nothing zoomed through the air. He kneeled down on the floor, looking behind the sink and toilet with no luck.

Continuing his crawl with Flurry following him around like a duckling following its mother, Severus reached his bedroom cursing the hard stone floors. Even with area rugs covering his bedroom floor, the floor was hard on his knees for he wasn't as young as he used to be. Severus tried summoning the bottle again. Nothing flew through the air, but a small rattle came from underneath his wardrobe.

Potter had better appreciate it because Severus was going to have bruises on his knees by morning. Once by his wardrobe, he lay flat on his stomach and took out his wand. With a nonverbal Lumos, Severus stuck his lighted wand underneath the wardrobe, sweeping it from left to right.

There! In the back right corner wedged between the floor and decorative edging was the plastic pill bottle. Severus extended his arm underneath the wardrobe as far as his arm would go, but it was not enough. With a groan, he used his wand to fish the pill bottle free, something he'd admonish every one of his students for. The pill bottle flew free, and skidded across the floor. Flurry took off after the bottle determined for it to be her new toy.

"Flurry!" Severus scolded his cat before the bottle could be lodged somewhere else. The fluffy cat stopped in her tracks, turning to him as if to say sorry Dad. He stood up, his knees and back cracking in protest before summoning the bottle from the floor.

The Potions Master walked from his room back to Harry's. He wasn't surprised to see the boy staring and listening to the wall mural on the edge of sleep. The house-elves had done their job well. He retrieved a glass of water from the boy's bathroom before handing Potter, Harry it was going to take time for him to get that right, the glass and half a Vicodin pill. The teen wordlessly swallowed the pill chasing it with water before settling back into his little nest.

"Good night, Harry," Severus said lowering the lights to leave just enough light for Harry to watch his mural.

"Good night, sir," Harry responded, his voice filled with sleep as Severus exited the room, leaving the door open a crack.

Severus sighed. With Harry taken care of for the night, he had his own obligations to turn to. The large stack of essays and projects sitting on his table loomed large. At times likes these he wondered why he bothered giving his students so much work. Did he really wish to torture himself? But that option was past, leaving Severus to a late night in hopes of making a dent into the pile.

However, luck just wasn't on his side today. Sitting in his sitting room in a chair by the fireplace waiting for him was the Headmaster. "Severus," Albus acknowledged. "I trust Harry is asleep for the night."

"He's in his room, yes. He wasn't quite sleeping when I left," Severus answered. "What is it?"

"Severus, we need to talk," Albus said, gesturing for Severus to take a seat.

"We are talking, Albus. I have a lot of work to catch up on, so please make it quick," Severus snapped, his patience slipping after keeping it in check all day.

"Severus, my boy," the Headmaster continued with a sigh. "We must talk. Sit." Severus acquiesced sitting down in his chair wondering just what else Albus had to tell him. 

Sitting down into the chair, Severus waited for Albus to start, his arms crossed. He didn't offer the Headmaster tea or any other beverage in hopes Albus made the visit quick. His students' essays needed grading, and tomorrow promised to be another long day.

"Tea?" Albus asked as if he were the host.

Severus scowled.

"No?" the Headmaster cocked his head to the side. "Firewhiskey it is then."

With a snap of his fingers, two glasses and a bottle of the strong liquid popped in front of Albus. He poured a drink for each of them even though Severus set his down by his chair upon receiving it, not intending to take one sip of it.

"Albus," Severus warned through gritted teeth, "I have much I need to be doing."

"Of course, my boy. This will just take a moment," Albus said, ignoring Severus' annoyance. "There are two things actually though they are not connected."

Severus wanted to bang his head against the wall as he fought the urge to pull out his wand. If Albus weren't his boss, he'd send the old man flying out the door. He had had enough of the Headmaster for one day.

"The good news first. Perhaps you may even be persuaded to take a lemon drop," Albus decided, tapping his canary yellow robes pocket where the trusty tin of lemon drops resided. "I am in need of a Defense teacher."

"No! Absolutely not!" Severus declared, his arms waving in dismissal knowing where Albus was going with that statement.

"But, my boy, you are the best person for the job now that you are free from your spying duties," Albus reasoned. "War is upon us, and the students must be prepared."

"Be that as it may, I refuse to teach immature children who have the license to hex each other in my presence. Potions is disastrous enough as it is. At least there, the students aren't in danger from each other," Severus said. He couldn't imagine dealing with a Longbottom in Defense. He'd end up hexing the student himself.

Despite the rumors to the contrary, Severus had no desire to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't challenging for one thing. With his caliber of magic teaching simple stunning spells and basic shields was almost an insult when he was able to do both with nonverbal wandless magic by the time he finished his sixth year. Some said that qualified Severus to teach Defense even more, but he had no interest in the lower level spells.

In Potions there was a difference.  While his younger students brewed simple potions he could brew in his sleep, it was all about mastering technique and looking for the next Potions prodigy. Anyone with adequate magical levels could be taught to master the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum, but not Potions. It took driven and talented students to succeed in his subject, and those students were the ones Severus was interested in teaching. 

"You would have free reign when it came to the curriculum," Albus tried to convince him. "The students need a competent wizard to be prepared for the war."

"And they didn't before?" Severus countered. He refused to budge. "I'm sure you could find someone to teach Defense. Why not bring in an Auror? Nymphadora Tonks is competent and an Order member."

"I don't trust her with the N.E.W.T. students. They need someone who fought and survived the first war."

Albus had a point. Severus had to give him that. It still didn't mean the students needed him.

Need. Harry!

That was right. Harry needed him, needed him to not be the Defense teacher or have a full schedule at all. He had thought ahead to Potter's next year without thinking about how it would affect him or his classes.

"I can't, Albus, but there is something we must address about my teaching schedule next year," Severus said.

"If you're not willing to teach Defense, what is there to discuss?" Albus questioned defensively, crossing his arms like a pouting toddler.

Good. The old man deserved it after assuming everyone will follow his orders like they were his personal chess pieces.

"I won't be able to teach a full schedule. Mr. Potter," Severus refused to give the Headmaster the satisfaction of hearing him call the boy Harry, "will need my assistance throughout the day."

"Harry will be in class, Severus," Albus waved his hand at the issue as if the comment had no bearing on their current subject.

"Most likely, Mr. Potter will not be attending classes once term starts." Severus felt his anger rise and his patience slip, but before he let it go, he cast a one-way silencing charm around himself and the Headmaster to keep Harry unaware of their conversation, but would allow Severus to hear if Harry needed anything.

"Of course he will. A few medications shouldn't stop him from attending classes," Albus continued to ignore the severity of Potter's illness.

"You don't get it!" Severus yelled unleashing his pent up anger. "This could kill him and the treatments are similar to a poison!"

There. He screamed out the words he wanted to yell at someone all day, but he found it didn't help.

"I am sure they are not that bad, my boy. You know Muggles and their warning labels, always overacting," Albus said refilling his glass with firewhiskey.

"You have no idea how bad the chemotherapy is going to effect the child. He'll be in pain, vomiting, losing his hair, and those are just the most common side effects. It's possible he'll even lose his eyelashes!" Severus seethed, finding himself feeling oddly protective over the child that no one seemed to stand up for. "Not to mention he'll have no immune system to speak of meaning the common cold could kill him!"

Albus' jaw dropped, his eyes wide, and if Severus was correct, the Headmaster shifted back in his seat. It was more satisfying than blasting a spell dummy to tiny pieces. Well it was until Severus remembered he was going to have to explain the horrors of chemotherapy to Potter in the morning.

"Is that why your wish to modify your quarters to have an entrance chamber with the floo there? I thought it to be an odd request, one I thought Dobby had wrong," Albus asked, the pieces coming together for him.

"Yes. My quarters will need to be as germ free as possible. I plan to charm the entrance with sterilization charms to protect Potter," Severus informed the Headmaster, his anger dying as he felt a migraine coming on. So many things needed to be done before Harry's treatments started in less than a week. He wondered if there was enough time to accomplish everything.

"I see. How many classes will you be able to handle?" Albus returned to the discussion of next year, a relatively safe topic. 

"I shouldn't be gone from my quarters more than two to three hours a day," Severus said, trying to calculate how many classes that meant. "Poppy will help when she can, but she'll have other students to look after. There may be some days I cannot leave Potter alone and Poppy will be unable to watch over him. You should be prepared for that eventuality concerning my classes."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to sleep off this migraine because he couldn't take another headache potion until morning. Albus was only making it worse. Why were they discussing this anyway when this year hadn't even ended yet?

"With the right schedule that leans towards four classes. Perhaps, but no you wouldn't," Albus thought out loud though Severus knew the Headmaster meant to do it to get Severus' attention.

"Spit it out, Albus. I'm not in the mood for games," Severus growled.

"Would you be willing to teach N.E.W.T. level Potions and Defense? If you keep the same entrance requirements as you do for Potions that should result in one class for each year per subject?" Albus proposed.

"Yes," Severus agreed without a thought to the contrary. It was Christmas come early to be rid of the lower years.

"Perfect. Horace can take the lower years along with passing N.E.W.T. students who didn't receive an O, but still wish to pursue the subject. The same can be done with Defense. Your classes will be what the Muggles consider Honors classes," Albus said his eyes twinkling in the way that indicated he got what he wanted.

Severus didn't care if Albus thought he won this round. He was free from all those nitwitted dunderheads who did nothing but blow up their cauldrons. But wait, Albus mentioned Horace as in Horace Slughorn, his old professor and Head of Slytherin?

"Horace is returning? You were so sure I'd teach Defense that you already hired another Potions Master?" Severus barked in disbelief. The old man was conniving, but this was just crazy. "How preposterous to assume what I will and will not do without consulting with me first!"

"I was sure you'd be agreeable to teach Defense, but this situation will be even better," Albus smiled making Severus angrier. "Horace has agreed to come out of retirement. I perhaps mentioned Harry to Horace and well," Albus shrugged. "that was all it took."

"Mr. Potter will not be in Horace's class. I won't allow it," Severus demanded. He refused to let Slughorn collect Potter for his fame.

"Ah, but Severus, are you forgetting your own requirements? Do you have that much faith in Harry's O.W.L. score?" Albus asked in an innocent tone.

"Mr. Potter and I have already discussed his options concerning my class. I expect him on my class roster, regardless of his O.W.L. score," Severus said using his privileges of a professor to have final say in such matters. "Unless there was a change regarding professors' rights, I can admit who I wish in my N.E.W.T. class."

"Yes, concerning Harry. That is the other thing we must discuss," Albus sighed not taking his loss well. "It seems there is some confusion involving who exactly is Harry's guardian."

"What?" Severus balked. "How is that possible?"

"I'm not sure, but when I went to get the medical proxy forms for you to sign at the Ministry, I made the clerk check that Petunia Dursley was Harry's guardian because his guardian must also sign the form giving permission for you to be Harry's medical proxy," Albus explained. "His file is sealed on top of that meaning no one can open it until Harry is of age himself and he wishes to see it. However, I was able to speak to Wizarding Child Services, and they were agreeable after taking in account his age that as long as Harry agrees, you may be his medical proxy. I was given forms from WCS for you two to fill out, but I had to inform you of the changes."

Was anything involving Potter normal? They couldn't even complete a simple form without running into problems. Severus nodded. "Is that all?"

"Yes, my boy, it is. I believe we accomplished many things. I'll leave you to your stack of essays," Albus stood up, in preparation to leave. Finally! "Oh, and Poppy asked me to pass these on to you," Albus pulled out a stack of pamphlets and handed them to the younger wizard. "The specialist gave Poppy those. She made some notes for you."

"Thank you, Albus."

"My pleasure, my boy. Are you sure you don't want a lemon drop?" Albus asked as he reached the floo.

"No," Severus barked. He did not want a bloody lemon drop.

"As you wish," Albus said. "Maybe next time."

Severus wanted to throw the lemon drop tin at the Headmaster as he exited via the floo. He never had and would never accept one of those sugary lemon candies. Getting up, he placed the pamphlets on the coffee table to peruse in the morning on his way into his bedroom to sleep, exhausted and irritable after the day's events.

------

Harry woke up feeling somewhat well rested for a change though it took a little longer than normal for him to feel awake. And his nose and left arm itched! He woke up several times during the night to itch both areas. It was annoying, but if that meant the pain from his test went away, he'd gladly put up with being itchy for a short time.

Stretching, Harry laid in bed for a few minutes. It felt fantastic to just lay there wrapped up in warm blankets, smooth sheets, and on a soft mattress that hugged his body. He had no idea what time it was, but his stomach growled, indicating he should think about getting up. 

The teen ignored his stomach for a few more minutes. He couldn't believe he was in Snape's quarters and got the best night of sleep he'd had in months. Everything about yesterday seemed surreal to Harry. If it weren't for the blue covers and the sound of waves, Harry would've thought it was all just a horrible nightmare. But it wasn't. The soreness in his back attested to it.

Realization dawned on Harry as a bit of fear rose in his mind. They were going to go over his treatments today. He suddenly wasn't so hungry anymore, and it was fruitless to put the discussion off any longer. He'd only worry more wondering what they were.

Harry crawled out of bed and staggered out to the sitting room. He found Snape sitting at a moderate sized table in the nook behind the sofa, parchment strewn about the whole table with a near empty red inkwell, rimless glasses set on his face. Snape wore glasses?

"Good afternoon," Snape said, snatching the glasses off his face before clearing a spot for Harry to sit down.

"Afternoon?" Harry asked while sitting on Snape's left. He couldn't have possibly slept that long. He never slept past nine.

"It just turned noon," Severus informed him, summoning a trey from the kitchen. The Potions Master set down a plate filled with scrambled eggs, toast, and a bowl of fruit in front of Harry along with a large glass of orange juice. "Eat."

Harry's eyes lit up at the glass of orange juice. Being in the wizarding world for most of the year made him forget how much he enjoyed other juices besides pumpkin juice, and even at the Dursley's it was a rarity since most of the time his Aunt made him drink nothing but water.

"Thank you, sir." Harry tucked into his meal, sampling a few bites of each thing. Everything was delicious, and he managed to finish off half the plate and the whole glass of juice.

"Finished?" Snape asked when Harry pushed his plate away.

Harry nodded and with a flick of his wand, Severus banished the dishes back to the kitchen, which reminded Harry that he had yet to get his wand back from the man. "Sir? Can I have my wand back?"

"May I," Snape corrected, pulling out Harry's holly wand from his robes pocket and handing it out to him handle first. "I don't think I need to tell you that it would be wise not to attempt any magic around others."

"I won't." Harry took his wand back from his professor with a smile at the warmth spreading up his arm.

"Good. I had a house-elf retrieve a change of clothes for you. They're sitting on your chaise lounge. After your shower we have a few things to discuss, and then I thought you might wish to spend the rest of the day with your friends?" Snape proposed.

"Uh, sure," Harry answered. It was strange having someone schedule his day for him. At the same time, it made things easier for him, and yet Snape's questioning tone at the end indicated that Snape wasn't going to force the schedule onto him. His professor, in his own way, had asked Harry what he'd like to do with the rest of his day, and he wasn't sure any adult ever gave him the option, not even Sirius.

"I need to tend to your back before you shower. Take off your shirt and lay on your stomach on your bed. I'll be in there in a moment," Snape said while pushing his chair back from the table.

Harry did as he was told and not a minute went by before Snape entered his room with a few supplies in hand. Unconsciously, the teen itched his left arm.

"P-Harry, stop," the Professor held up Harry's left arm for a better look. "When did your arm start itching?"

"Sometime while I was sleeping. Why?"

"Did you not notice?" Snape let go of Harry's arm, so he could look at the angry red rash forming on his arm.

"No," Harry said, frightened. Was this the cancer attacking his body? Would it spread to his whole body until he itched himself crazy? "My pajamas were long-sleeved."

Harry propped himself up on his elbows so he could better look at his professor who was in the middle of scanning him for something. Maybe it wasn't related to his cancer then?

"Just what I thought," Severus said a moment later. "Did you know you have a slight allergy to latex?"

"What?" Harry asked, his forehead scrunching up in confusion. "Latex?"

"It's a Muggle material found in many things including latex gloves like the ones I put on my hands before I drew your blood yesterday."

"So, it has nothing to do with my cancer?" The teen hoped the answer was no. He couldn't stand being itchy all the time.

"No, and before you ask, it's not a bad thing. We'll just have to make sure all your medical supplies are latex-free," Severus said as he started examining Harry's back. "Lay back down."

The teen felt Snape peel the bandage off before rubbing something cold that stung a bit on the biopsy site. "Does it hurt?"

"I'm sore, but nothing like yesterday. It's uncomfortable in that annoying kind of way," Harry admitted.

"That's normal. Let me know if it gets worse, or if you need something for the soreness," the Potions Master said while applying another bandage.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered thinking he might actually consider Snape's offer if he needed to.

After an impermeable charm, Harry passed Snape's inspection. "Go shower while I retrieve a cream for your arm from Madame Pomfrey," Snape ordered cleaning up his supplies.

Harry walked to his bathroom, clean clothes in hand feeling taken care of, something he never thought he'd feel. He smiled and started the water for his shower. As he took off his glasses, he remembered Snape's. He'd have to remember to ask the man about them later. 

While waiting for Harry to finish showering, Severus sat on the sofa drawing up a schedule of things to do before Harry started treatment on Sunday. There were some things set at mandatory times like Harry's appointment with the specialist Friday morning following the students' departure and other things that just needed to be completed by then like restocking his kitchen and getting his quarters ready. It was already Tuesday and with time winding down he needed to optimize the time that was left.

"Severus?" a melodic voice called out from his floo in a way only a mother could.

"I'm here, Aurora," Severus addressed his mother, surprised. Last he knew his parents were happily living in the States.

"I'm coming through, young man, and if you try to block your floo, I'll send you a nasty howler that I'm sure your students will be entertained by," Aurora warned.

Severus rolled his eyes. Why was his mother visiting him? Had she finally worked on her tan long enough?

Aurora Prince was a beautiful lady, a different breed of beautiful than Narcissa Malfoy. While both aristocratic women were of the purest bloodlines, Aurora exuded a natural beauty. She kept her dishwater blonde wavy hair hanging loose to her waist, and today she was attired in Muggle bell-bottom jeans and a white gauze embroidered tank top. She was the picture of a modern-day Hippie, which in reality she was except that she was a Hippie back in the 60s, too, though most questioned that since she appeared not a day over thirty even at fifty-three.

"I saw that," Aurora chided as she walked over to him. "I thought I taught you better than to roll your eyes at your elders."

"You actually taught me to roll my eyes at my elders," Severus countered.

"You're not supposed to do everything your parents do," his mother rolled her eyes while she sat next to him on the sofa. She picked up the schedule Severus was working on.

"Put that down," Severus demanded trying to snatch the parchment from her hand. Aurora held on tight, reading it as her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion and fear.

"What is this?"

"Nothing," Severus lied, sending the parchment flying into the floo with a wave of his hand.

"Severus Hadrian Caius Prince! I demand you tell me right now because what I read demands an explanation. Your father and I have lived long enough in the Muggle world for me not to know what that parchment said," Aurora admonished her son in a barking tone that put his own to shame.

"Mother," Severus said causing her to scowl as he intended, "What are you doing back in Britain?"

"Don't call me Mother. You know it makes me feel old and matronly," Aurora shuddered. "Your father and I happened to return because we wished to see you this summer since you should have no obligations for once. You never once returned our recent letters so I told your father that if we returned to Prince Manor then you couldn't hide from us all summer. Your sister is too busy with finishing school and well I missed you. But Severus, if that schedule says what I thought I read..."

For the love of Merlin! Now his mother decided to be maternal? Was this the same woman who sent him to live with his Aunt Eileen and Uncle Tobias at age nine, so she and his father could experience Woodstock and San Francisco without having a young child cramping their style?

"It's nothing. It's for a student of mine who will be staying with me this summer. I am perfectly healthy," Severus reassured her.

"Oh, Severus," Aurora flung her arms around him. Severus, his back straight froze. "For a moment I thought... It would just be unfair after all the risks you've taken to help with the war."

Severus extricated himself from his mother and stood up. "As you can see I'm fine, but I really must be getting back to my work." He had to get his mother out of his quarters before Harry came out. Having her there alone with him was awkward enough.

"Nonsense. You're just trying to get me to leave. While I appreciate your efforts, we haven't discussed if you'll be residing at Prince Manor this summer, and I wish to know this student that'll be staying with you," Aurora said, not budging from the sofa.

To make things worse Harry walked out in the sitting room dressed in clothes that hung off his too thin frame. "Professor?" the teen asked in confusion.

Severus threw his arms up wishing he could pull his hair out. Why did his mother always show up at the most inconvenient times? Sure, they got along better now since his parents for the most part acted like adults instead of the free-spirit reckless parents they were when he was a child, but it was like his mother wished to fix her mistakes now when he was thirty-six and no longer needed her.

"Aurora," Severus reluctantly went through the motions of introducing them to each other, "Meet-"

"Lily's child," Aurora gasped moving over to the teen. "I'd recognize those green eyes anywhere." She wrapped her arms around Harry in an awkward hug.

For a person who never panicked, Severus felt his adrenaline rise at Aurora's realization. He was prepared for her to recognize the child as The-Boy-Who-Lived, but not for his relation to his Lily. Severus needed to get one of them out of the room now before Aurora spilled his past to Harry.

"You knew my mother?" Harry asked, awed, pulling away from Aurora slightly.

"Mother," Severus warned through gritted teeth, alarm bells screaming in his head.

"I met her a few times. She was a wonderful girl, so lively, happy, and brilliant," Aurora reminisced with a smile while patting the boy on his head. "I'm sorry you don't remember her, but I'm sure she'd adore you."

"Really? Everyone always mentions my dad. I don't know much about my mother," Potter confessed with a light in his eyes like the one found in a young child on Christmas morning.

"Yes. You should ask Severus about Lily. He knows more than I do. They were in the same year," Aurora told him as Severus forced his hand away from his wand, itching to cast an obliviate at Harry.

"Harry, go make your bed," Severus demanded of his student.

"But Professor, I already have," Harry protested.

"Harry, please," Severus ordered refusing to admit his voice sounded pleading. Harry's shoulders sagged and the light in his eyes left, but the teen broke from Aurora and returned to his room, shutting his door with a click. Severus sent a silencing charm down the hallway.

He felt a second's worth of remorse. He hadn't meant to hurt the boy's feelings, but the situation spiraled out of control the second his mother recognized Harry as Lily's child.

"Was that necessary?" Aurora asked, her voice cross.

"Yes, since you won't leave," the Potions Master said, not caring it was his mother he was all but forcing to leave.

"The boy wishes to know about his mother. There's no harm in that."

"He didn't know I knew his mother well," Severus told her deflating. He retook his seat on the sofa, his head in his hands.

"Someone needs to tell him about her." Aurora put a hand on his shoulder. "Is he the student that's staying with you?"

"Yes," Severus sighed. "I've agreed to become his medical proxy since his Muggle relatives won't be able to get him the care he needs."

He couldn't believe he was confessing this to his mother of all people. Severus never told her anything about the details of his life. Oddly enough, he felt a smidgen of the weight he carried on his shoulders from stress and responsibility lift.

"Medical proxy?" Aurora questioned as she put two and two together. "He has cancer?"

"Once again Harry Potter proves the impossible to be possible," Severus whispered. His thoughts were all over with his mother bringing up Lily.

"Oh dear, Lily would be devastated," Aurora said tearing up, "but Severus, you'll do what's right for the child. He's in good hands."

"I know," Severus said more for something to say.

"What was that nonsense about a trip to Gringotts and special permission?" Aurora asked tugging on a lock of his hair.

"The treatments aren't covered by the system, and since he's not of age he needs special permission to draw from the main Potter vaults," Severus sighed.

"What of his Muggle relatives? I assume they have custody of him. Shouldn't they be paying for his care?"

Severus shrugged. "From what I've gathered through Occlumency lessons this year, his relatives would rather see him dead than pay for anything he needs."

The Potions Master hadn't ignored what he learned from those disastrous lessons, no matter how much he hated the child at the time. He took his revelations to the Headmaster, and it was part of the reason Albus initially arranged for him to stay at Hogwarts.

"That poor child. He must be so scared," Aurora pulled Severus close to her. He allowed it, knowing no matter how unprepared for parenthood she was in his early years she loved him and needed that physical contact to know he was all right. "Is that why his clothes hung from him?"

"Perhaps, but he's lost quite a bit of weight the last month. His godfather also died involving an incident at the Department of Mysteries a few weeks ago."

"Severus, take the funds for his treatment from our vaults. We have more than enough, and he shouldn't have to pay for his own medical expenses," Aurora demanded, her voice full of sorrow.

"Harry has sufficient funds to cover the treatments. He's the sole Potter heir, and he's likely to inherit some more from his godfather," Severus stated as a fact. Aurora's suggestion hadn't even crossed his mind.

"I don't care if he's Draco Malfoy or a homeless boy off the streets. A child shouldn't have to pay for his own medical expenses," Aurora said, set in her decision. "And get that child some decent clothes while you're at it. He needs to be comfortable."

Severus nodded knowing it was best not to argue when Aurora Prince came to such a decision. She was more stubborn than he was, and he could see her point, his brain just refused to cooperate in admitting that his family's money was best spent going to Potter's scion.

"Good. Keep me updated on his progress," Aurora said moving to the floo after one last tousle to his hair. "And remember, my child, he's Lily's son."

Severus took a deep breath as his mother departed. Of course he would remember. It was the reason he agreed to be Harry's medical proxy, and why he saved the teen's life so many times. He couldn't let Lily's last gift to the world die.

------

Harry fidgeted while sitting in his window seat. The window displayed the Quidditch Pitch at the moment, and he could see a group of Gryffindors including Ron and Ginny playing a pick up game of quidditch. Hermione sat in the stands with a book in her hands. It all looked so normal, yet Harry was here in Snape's quarters about to be told about his treatments for cancer to somehow get rid of all the Death Eater cells floating around inside his blood.

"Harry?" Snape asked knocking on his door.

This was it. No more use of treatments as an ambiguous concept. Snape was finally going to tell him how many pills he had to swallow down a day and for how long. It couldn't be that bad, could it? At least you couldn't taste pills like you could potions.

"Come in," Harry said turning to face the door.

Snape pushed the door open looking not at all Snapelike. The man's shoulders slumped ever so slightly and his onyx eyes displayed worry. Harry gulped hoping Snape's appearance was due to the man's mother not him.

The woman was not at all whom Harry expected. She was warm and friendly, not at all like Snape, but Harry was learning most everything he thought he knew about Snape wasn't right. He wondered how she knew his mother, but doubted Snape would tell him. The man seemed as angry as if she'd brought up his father at the mention of his mother. Did she treat him as bad as his father had?

"May I?" Snape asked motioning to the other side of the window seat. Harry nodded crossing his legs so the professor would have more room to sit. "I'm sorry about sending you to your room. I didn't expect my mother to drop by," Snape apologized.

Snape was apologizing to him? The Potions Master never apologized, least of all to the golden Gryffindor. It made his professor seem human. "It's okay. I understand. I almost blew up Aunt Marge summer before third year," Harry shrugged, his fingers drawing random shapes on the light blue silk seat.

"Miss Weasley caught the snitch," Snape said a few moments later.

"She's a decent seeker. Do you think with Umbridge gone my quidditch ban will be lifted?" Harry asked turning his attention back to the window where Ginny's side celebrated their small victory.

"I don't think Headmaster Dumbledore will let that ruling stand, but you won't be in shape to play next year," Snape said with a hint of sadness. "Maybe your seventh year."

"Yeah. It would be nice to know I had the option though," Harry trailed off. He missed quidditch. Flying was liberating with the wind blowing through his hair. Nothing but him, the air, and the golden snitch. "How many pills do I have to take?"

"A few, but there's more," Snape confessed.

"What? I thought Muggle medicine used pills. They don't have potions." Harry was confused. All the medication he'd seen the Dursleys take were either in pill or liquid forms.

"They do, but there's also a better way to get the drugs into your system. Most of your treatment plan involves chemotherapy. Have you ever heard of it?" Severus placed his hand over Harry's, stilling his random motions.

"No. How does it work? Is it like a shot?"

Harry averted his gaze back to the enchanted window, not wishing to think about more needles. His friends were lying around the quidditch pitch, relaxing as they talked to one another.

"In a way. You'll have two different kinds of chemotherapy, intravenous and intrathecal. Intravenous chemo will enter through a line in your chest in liquid form from a pump that regulates how fast it flows into your body," Severus struggled to explain.

"Line?" Harry continued to be confused. How was anything going to enter through a line?

"Not like a geometric line. In medical terminology, a line refers to a small tube that's inserted into your body in order to give you fluids, medications, or blood."

"Inserted?" Harry whipped his head back to face Snape growing scared. They were going to insert something in him and then pump whatever chemotherapy was into his body? Were they sure this was going to help him rather than harm him?

"You'll have either a Hickman line or a port placed before your treatments start. It's so you don't need an IV. Those can't stay in and you'd be poked with needles often."

"Stay in?" Harry didn't like the sound of anything involving chemotherapy. He felt his hands begin to tremble and goosebumps rise up on his arms.

"Yes. Once placed a Hickman line or port can stay in for the duration of chemotherapy. They're very convenient," Snape said squeezing his hand. "A Hickman is a catheter or tube that will be placed here," the Potions Master used his free hand to point to a spot on Harry's chest near his right collarbone. "The catheter will hang outside your body and when it's time for chemo, the tubing that's there will be hooked up to the pump. It can also be used to draw blood, so there's no need for needle sticks."

"And the other option?" Harry asked terrified, his face paling more with every word Snape said.

"A port is a small device placed under the skin near your collarbone. It's accessed by a special needle where it'll be connected to your chemo or whatever else you may need."

"But there's still needles?" Harry confirmed not liking that idea one bit.

"Yes. I'd suggest the Hickman line with your aversion to needles and the other options it offers that the port cannot."

"You're letting me pick?" Harry asked, surprised. How was he supposed to pick one when he didn't know much about either option? What if he chose the wrong one?

"Yes, it's your body and you're the one having to deal with needles or tubing attached to your body. Both choices work well," Snape explained his reasoning, his hand never leaving Harry's.

"Then the first one, but what is chemotherapy?" Harry still didn't understand what exactly it was.

"It's the medicine that helps to kill cancer cells. It's a highly toxic concoction that works like a poison to cancer cells," Snape said, choosing his words carefully.

"But it won't harm me?" Harry didn't like the sound of something similar to a poison. They were horrible and used to kill, not cure.

Snape paused, and Harry knew that was a bad sign. He was barely holding it together. This chemotherapy thing sounded horrible. Was his leukemia all that bad? He thought it was something similar to long-term chicken pox, not that it had the same presentation, but that it was a common thing Muggles got that with medication and time went away.

"Harry, medications aren't smart like humans. They can't distinguish between good and bad cells. In the process of killing off the cancer cells, some good ones will be killed off, too."

"What happens then? It doesn't poison me right because poisons kill and what's the point of killing off the cancer if the poison will kill you in the end," Harry said without stopping to take a breath. He really, really didn't want to die, and it kept sounding more likely that he was going to.

Something unexpected happened then. Snape wrapped one arm around him, encouraging Harry to lean on him. Harry folded into Snape's side, but refused to cry. He wouldn't breakdown. He wasn't weak, but he had to admit it felt nice to have someone hold him close.

"You're not going to die," Snape commanded. "Do you hear me, Potter?"

"Yes, but the poison-"

"Will not kill you," the Potions Master continued to explain. "There are some rather nasty side effects that goes along with chemo, but you'll endure."

"Like what?" Snape's use of the word endure worried him.

"You'll lose your hair, but it'll grow back once you're down with chemo. It may make you throw up, and you'll continue to be fatigued," Severus listed off the most common side effects.

"My hair?" Harry knew it made him sound like Malfoy, but he rather liked his hair even if it never obeyed him. He couldn't picture himself bald.

"Yes, but as I said, it'll grow back. It'll be important that you tell me anything unusual that you feel or think you feel."

He nodded, biting down on his lower lip, sinking more into Snape's side.

"The other type of chemotherapy you'll have is called intrathecal chemotherapy. That's when the chemo is injected directly into your spinal canal by a needle."

Harry shuddered. He never wanted to see another needle again especially near his back.

"It won't be nearly as uncomfortable as the bone marrow biopsy," Snape assured him.

He didn't care if it was more comfortable or not. The whole thing sounded horrendous. Harry felt fine for the most part. He didn't really feel sick, just tired, but this chemotherapy would make him feel worse. It didn't make sense. There had to be another way.

"It's the only way to kill the cancer cells?" Harry asked desperate for another solution.

"I wish there were another way, but yes, it's the only known way," Snape confirmed.

"Okay," Harry said resigned, but if that were the only way he'd live. "I'll do it."

Snape tightened his grip around him in a way that could almost qualify as a hug. "Do you wish to know the tentative chemo schedule the specialist sent down?"

"No," Harry decided. He had enough for today. "Can I be alone? I think I want to lie down for a while."

"In a moment. There's one other thing you must be informed about," Snape replied sounding sad. "Chemotherapy can cause a certain unwanted permanent side effect. Do you wish to have children one day?"

"Huh?" Harry asked wondering where that question had come from. He hadn't ever given much thought to it. That phase of his life seemed so far away.

"Chemotherapy can cause males to become sterile. If you wish to ensure you can father children one day, you can store," Snape stopped, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Do I need to explain further? It can be done in the Hospital Wing very discreetly with you and a cup. I suggest you seek out the option before Friday."

Harry's eyes bulged out not believing what his professor just told him. He squirmed feeling his cheeks redden. "Yes, sir," he forced out.

Snape nodded. "Any other questions? You may come to me at any time with any question whether you may think it dumb or not."

"No," Harry said. He just wanted to forget about his treatments until he had to face them, and he certainly didn't want to think about what Snape just told him.

Snape gave him one last odd squeeze before getting up to depart from his room. He clapped a total of five times before crossing the threshold leaving the door open a crack.

Harry dragged himself to his bed. He curled up in the middle in a fetal position under a pile of blankets staring at his mural as he tried to forget about everything Snape had told him. After all, he couldn't be scared if he didn't let himself feel anything. 

Later that afternoon after tending to his arm, Snape chased Harry out of his quarters suggesting he spend time with his friends before they left on Friday. Harry wasn't sure he felt like seeing his friends, but at least Snape let him use his floo to floo up to an empty seventh floor classroom, so he wouldn't have to walk as far.

Harry slid into the Gryffindor common room hoping his arrival wouldn't cause a scene. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. He spotted Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville sitting in a secluded corner, engrossed in a conversation.

"Hi," Harry said simply once he reached them. It felt strange being in the same room as his two best friends and keeping a world of secrets from them.

"You're finally back, mate," Ron said from the floor leaning against the chair Hermione sat in. "That must've been some headache if you've been in the Hospital Wing the entire time."

"Uh, yeah," Harry lied doing a pathetic job at it.

"It wasn't a headache," Hermione accused lowering her voice. "Was it about you know what?"

He nodded without thinking. It was hard enough to continue standing with the soreness in his back and his jumbled thoughts. His brain felt worse than after an Occlumency lesson with Snape. It was like everything was scattered, disconnected from everything else.

"Sit down and tell us what you found out," Hermione said scooting over so Harry could squeeze in beside her. Harry did noting that when they sat like this last month they really had to squeeze together. Now, there was an inch or two between them.

"What is Hermione talking about?" Ginny asked.

Harry ran his hand through his hair. Not wishing to talk about it, he shrugged. Unconsciously, he started to itch his arm. Despite Snape applying a salve to it, it still itched.

"What's wrong with your arm?" Ron asked, looking up at him concerned.

"Nothing!" Harry snapped. He snatched his right hand from his arm, sitting on it so he wouldn't be tempted to itch it again.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked in a gentle tone laying a hand on his shoulder.

Too many questions, all of which he didn't want to answer. He couldn't if he wished to keep it together and not cry like a wimpy Hufflepuff. As his friends seemed to close in on him, demanding answers, he began to sweat and felt trapped. Harry knew this would happen. He'd rather be on trial in front of the Wizengamot right now.

Harry dropped his head into his hands to avoid the concerned gazes of his friends.

"I'm fine!" Harry yelled. "I just found out I'm going to be staying with Snape to train, so could you just leave me alone without following me everywhere right now? I need space." 

"Harry," Hermione tried to soothe him. "I know it sounds horrible, but Professor Snape knows a lot of important spells."

"You don't know anything!" he exclaimed, throwing her arm off him as he shot up out of the chair. Harry had to get out of there. "Please," he begged desperately, his voice cracking with emotion he refused to feel "I need to be by myself."

And with that declaration, Harry sprinted from the Gryffindor common room through the corridors and down several staircases until he reached the dungeons out of breath, his body protesting in pain. He searched the wall until he found the indentations signaling he was at Snape's quarters. At last, Snape's door appeared and Harry flung himself inside, making a beeline to the safety of his room.

"Harry?" Snape questioned from his doorway as Harry burrowed under his covers, hiding from the outside world. He froze. Maybe if he stayed perfectly still, Snape wouldn't see him. "I know you're there."

"You have the wrong Harry," he claimed hoping Snape got the message and left him alone.

But his wish was too good to be true. Snape slowly pulled back the covers, prying his fingers off the blanket one at a time. Harry struggled refusing to relinquish his hold on his blanket, but Snape was much stronger than he was even if he were at full-strength.

"Did your visit with your friends not go well? I didn't expect you back for a few hours," Snape said sitting on the edge of Harry's bed.

Harry shook his head hoping Snape didn't ask for details because he didn't want to talk to the man about it. He could trust the Potions Master with his life, but he couldn't trust him with things like this and it wasn't like Snape cared for his teenage melodrama.

"Do you wish to discuss what happened?" Snape asked, his eyes giving Harry a look as if to say he was trying.

"No. Can I hide out here?" If Snape made him leave, he didn't know what he'd do. He couldn't go back to Gryffindor Tower, not now.

"While I don't advise you hiding out to run away from whatever upset you, I won't kick you out. However, I won't have you hiding in your room all day doing nothing. You can either start on your summer homework or help me grade," Snape offered.

"I guess I'll help you," Harry said not believing he was volunteering to help Snape or that his professor thought him capable of marking for him. He just knew attempting to start on his summer homework would be a disaster since he couldn't think straight.

"Then come. I have some multiple-choice sections on the lower years' exams that with the key you are more than competent to grade," Snape got up, motioning for Harry to follow him back to the sitting room.

Was that meant to be insulting? Anyone could mark multiple-choice with the key. Harry sighed. Perhaps the man hadn't completely changed. Either way if doing such a mindless task would keep his mind occupied, Harry didn't care how insulting the work was.

He sat on Snape's left where the professor set him up to start on the first years' exams with one of Snape's famed red inkwells. Dipping a quill into the infamous red liquid that wrote so many scathing remarks gave Harry a sense of power. Maybe the mindless marking wouldn't be so bad, and he could sneak a snarky comment or two in without Snape noticing.

-----

The group of Gryffindors sat puzzled after Harry's mad dash to escape. "What were you referring to?" Ginny, the first one to break the silence, asked Hermione.

"Nothing," Hermione said. If Harry didn't want them to know, then she wasn't going to tell Ginny. "Ron, will you come to the library with me? I want to check out some books to read over the summer."

"Do I have to? You know I hate that place?" Ron whined, not picking up Hermione's hint.

"Yes, Ron. I'll need your help carrying them back," Hermione said standing up.

"Fine," Ron grumbled following after the bushy-haired girl.

They walked out of the portrait hole and headed towards the Hospital Wing, not the library. "Um, Hermione? Did you forget how to get to the library?" Ron asked, stopping in his tracks.

"We're not going to the library," Hermione stated as she continued down the corridor.

"But where-"

"If Harry won't tell us what's wrong, we must go to the source," Hermione explained with a roll of her eyes. "We're going to the Hospital Wing and with any luck Madame Pomfrey will let something slip."

"Oh. Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Ron ran to catch the other Gryffindor.

"Do I have to tell you everything?" When Ron nodded his head, Hermione threw up her hands in frustration. "So Ginny and Neville didn't follow us. Sometimes I wonder what you and Harry would do without me."

"You know we love you, right Hermione? We just don't think like you do. We're simpler," Ron tried as an excuse.

"Just come on and let me do the talking with Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said exasperated.

"I'll keep my mouth shut," Ron promised, "but I don't think we're going to get anything from her. She's too tight-lipped when it comes to her patients."

"We'll see about that," Hermione said giving her best friend a mischievous grin.

They continued their trek down to the Hospital Wing, finding it empty of students. Madame Pomfrey, however, was in a deep discussion with another witch that neither of them had seen before.

"Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, trying to get the Mediwitch's attention.

"Oh, hello Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey said turning away from the other witch to greet the Gryffindors. "Mr. Weasley. I'm afraid you've missed Mr. Potter."

"About that Madame Pomfrey. I'm worried about him," Hermione confessed using that small trace of Slytherin cunning she possessed. "He seemed so upset over his summer plans and his magic. I hope he'll be all right."

"You have every right to worry, dear. I was telling Miss Adamson, here, what great friends our Harry has and how you'll be there to help him through his treatments," Madame Pomfrey hugged Hermione. "If either of you need someone to talk to about what Harry's going through, know that I'll be here for you."

"Treatments?" Hermione questioned knowing she latched onto the right word.

"He didn't tell you? Perhaps Professor Snape hasn't told Mr. Potter yet that his leukemia can't be treated with magical treatments," Madame Pomfrey confessed, worry written across her face.

"What?" Hermione yelled, paling.

"I'm sure you know all about Muggle cancer treatments being Muggleborn. You'll be a great asset to Harry," Pomfrey continued.

"Harry has cancer?" Hermione cried out, tears forming in her eyes.

"You didn't know?" Pomfrey said alarmed as she realized her mistake.

"But that's impossible. Witches and wizards don't get cancer past the age of four when their cores become developed enough to protect them from Muggle diseases," Hermione stated turning to bury her head into Ron's shoulder.

Ron stood there awkwardly, confused as he tried to comfort his best friend. "What's cancer?" he asked.

Madame Pomfrey directed the two students over to a bed where she explained to Ron what cancer was and the treatments involved. Ron was horrified and in disbelief. Harry didn't seem sick except being a little tired, yet he sounded sicker than any magical disease could make him.

"He could die?" Ron asked trying to process all the new information.

"He won't," Pomfrey said, trying to reassure him.

"Yes, he could die!" Hermione hysterically screamed at the same time.

Ron looked back and forth between the crying witch flung around him and Pomfrey not knowing whom to believe.

"Cancer is so horrible, Ron," Hermione forced out in between sobs as she squeezed her best friend tighter. "You have no idea how horrible it is."

"If I may?" Miss Adamson cut in, "I'm a specialist from St. Mungo's here to work on your friend's case. We are doing everything we can to make sure he survives. The type of leukemia he has shows great promise for recovery in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds.

"But there's a chance this cancer thing will kill him?" Ron asked for confirmation.

"Yes, it is possible, but as I said we are doing our best to ensure he doesn't," Miss Adamson placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron blinked not knowing whether to cry, scream, or blast something to pieces. It was so unfair that everything happened to Harry.

"Ron, I want to see Harry," Hermione choked out trying to regain her composure.

"We don't know where he ran off to. He could be anywhere," Ron said, his own composure balancing on the end of a knife's blade. "Let's go back to Gryffindor. Harry could've snuck back inside." Ron gave Hermione his own hint. They could use the Map once they returned to find their friend, but first they headed to the Room of Requirement to comfort each other away from prying eyes.

-----

Severus watched Harry out of the corner of his eye. The teen sat hunched over, quill in hand, slashing checkmarks across wrong answers with a satisfied grin. Every once in a while he caught the teen writing a comment in addition to the checkmark.

The task had accomplished its objective, getting Harry distracted from his thoughts. Severus was surprised when upon entering Harry's room the boy hadn't broken down with the way he scrambled into his bedroom. Sending Harry to visit his friends should've been a break for the teen, as Severus knew he hadn't planned to tell his friends about his diagnosis yet. But he underestimated the Gryffindors' courage to ask questions that were best left unasked, or at least he thought that's what happened. Harry refused to tell him. Severus wanted to kick himself. He hadn't meant to make Harry deal with anything else today. At least the marking task was a success even if Severus would need to erase all those little comments that he'd no doubt find amusing. It was worth the extra time to keep Harry as mentally stable as possible going into this first week of treatments.

"I'm finished, sir," Harry said with a grin. Severus knew that grin. It was the one that signified a scathing marking session as a result of needing to vent your frustrations.

"Very well. Would you like to continue with the second years' or find something else productive to do?" Severus asked, giving Harry more options since the teen seemed more in control of his emotions.

"More marking, if you have it. It's oddly satisfying. Now I think I know why you always leave us nasty remarks," Harry responded.

"Indeed," Severus slid the stack of second year exams in front of Harry. "I have errands to run in Diagon Alley tomorrow. I received permission from Professor Dumbledore for you to accompany me if you wish."

Harry's eyes brightened. "You don't mind me tagging along?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I did. We'll have to take precautions of course, but there are a few things you should be along for." Severus hid the exact errands he needed to run. It would be best for the teen not to know that part of the errands were for Harry, to buy him some new clothes, and a few things for his room. He had a feeling the boy would object to anyone buying him anything, and if Severus could only get him into the store then he'd be able to persuade him without much of a fight. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a bright smile that made the corners of his own lips turn the slightest bit upwards. Severus cursed himself. He didn't feel pleased with making the boy happy. No, Severus didn't enjoy making anyone happy, least of all Potter...Harry.

"Keep marking," Severus said returning the conversation to something more comfortable. He continued with the seventh years' cornerstone projects while Harry dipped his quill back into the red inkwell, resuming his marking.

Time passed as the two wizards sat at the table marking in comfortable silence until a knock came. "Stay here," Severus told Harry as he got up to see who was at the door. A plaque mounted on the middle of the door read Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.

As a precaution, each person wishing to grant access to his rooms was required to touch the door, which was charmed to read each person's magical signature, or they wouldn't be able to see the door to his quarters. It was one of the many protections Severus placed on his quarters to protect him from unwanted visitors on either side.

"Harry, your friends are here," Severus called over to the teen wondering how the other two-thirds of the golden trio found his quarters.

"I don't want to see them," Harry stated looking like he was ready to dart back to his room to hide.

Another loud insisting knock came on the door.

"Please, sir," Harry pleaded the quill threatening to snap in his hand.

"You can't hide forever," Severus warned. It wasn't healthy for the teen to run away from everything and avoidance would only make it worse.

"I know, just not today. Please." The boy looked desperate, scared of his own friends and that fear made Severus give into the boy's pleading.

"Very well, just this once. Go hide in your room while I get rid of your guests."

"Thank you, sir!" Harry smiled in disbelief at Severus' assistance while he ran off to his room.

Yet another knock sounded on his door. Severus growled. Didn't the miscreants have any sense of manner and decorum? He waited to hear Harry's door click close before flinging the entrance door open to reveal two upset Gryffindors.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, what is your excuse for appearing at my private quarters?" Severus asked giving the teens an angry scowl. He had no sympathy for students who violated his privacy, Harry's friends or not.

"Sir," Granger said, her eyes red from crying. "We know Harry is here. Can we please see him?"

"He's sleeping," Severus lied.

"Could we just look in on him?" she asked, her voice catching from holding back her tears. Severus hated overemotional teenage girls. He couldn't stand crying. It made him uncomfortable.

"I cannot allow that. He needs undisturbed rest for his magical core to heal."

"We'll go to the Headmaster!" Ron threatened.

Couldn't the Gryffindors get it through their thick heads that they weren't going to see Harry tonight, and that going to Albus didn't scare him? Severus shoved the two Gryffindors outside his doorway and up against the opposing wall. He stared down his two students seething in anger, feeling a strange protectiveness over Harry.

"I don't care who you go to. You are not seeing Mr. Potter tonight," Severus said, his icy voice a touch louder than whispering, a tone that frightened his students more than his yelling ever could. "He doesn't wish for company at this time."

"But sir," Hermione protested, "he's our friend. He needs us."

"Right now, what he needs is for you to allow him his space," Severus snapped, his tone final. How could he have ever thought spending time with the inquiring Gryffindors was a good idea for Harry after their discussion that afternoon that left Harry frazzled enough?

"Can we see him before we leave for the summer?" Ron asked.

"If that's what he wants. Now go before I take points," Severus watched the two teens scamper off before entering back into his quarters and telling Harry it was safe to come out.

The next morning Harry and Snape got an early start. By the time the students were seated in the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry and his professor were walking across the grounds to the gates. A clouded gray sky promised rain and as the chilliness of the morning sank into his skin, Harry was glad Snape had insisted he wore a jumper over his tee shirt.

Reaching the large iron gates, Harry waited for Snape to take down the wards before they passed through them. "Remember, stay close to me at all times," Snape said after resetting the wards.

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. He had no wish to anger the Potions Master today. He was getting to go to Diagon Alley! No one had ever taken him shopping before unless it was for school supplies. Well, perhaps Aunt Petunia had when he was a baby and too young to leave at home or with a sitter, but he didn't remember that.

"Have you apparated before?" Snape asked stopping a few meters from the gates.

"No. Is that how we're getting to Diagon?" Harry wondered why they hadn't just flooed.

"Yes, you'll have to side-along with me, and to do so you must take my arm," Snape explained, holding up his arm for Harry to grab onto. "It will feel strange, so be prepared."

Harry gulped. Of all the forms of magical transportation he had experienced, he only liked flying. Every other form didn't agree with him. Taking a deep breath, Harry placed his hand onto Snape's arm, and in that instant it felt like he was being sucked through a tube, stretched out and squished together before being stretched out again until finally Harry felt his feet hit solid ground.

Strong arms wrapped around his torso as his knees buckled preventing him from falling flat on his face while at the same time his stomach rebelled leaving him no choice but to vomit at Snape's feet. The Potions Master cleared the mess away with a wave of his hand without a hint of anger.

"Better?" Snape asked, releasing Harry after a few moments passed.

"I think so," Harry said waiting for his mind to catch up with his body.

"Here," Snape passed Harry a bright blue filled phial.

"What is it?"

"Mouthwash. Try not to aim for my shoes this time," Snape said, his eyebrow quirking in amusement.

"Sorry, sir," Harry apologized, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

"There's no need to apologize. It's quite a common side effect when side-along apparating for the first time. Now, hurry up. We have many things to accomplish today."

Harry tipped the phial of mouthwash into his mouth, swishing the mint-flavored liquid around before spitting it out, well away from Snape's shoes. "Thank you, sir."

Snape gave him a nod. "Come, our first store is just around the corner."

He blinked. When had Snape transfigured his clothes to Muggle attire of black pants and a crisp white long-sleeved oxford and why? And how come it was so loud?

"Sir?" Harry questioned.

"You didn't think we could enter Diagon Alley looking ourselves, did you? Muggle London is much safer and has everything we need," Snape explained leading Harry out of the dingy alley.

"But you said we were going to Diagon?"

"One of those precautions I mentioned in case you had a vision last night."

"Oh." Harry found himself slightly disappointed. He was hoping to visit Gringotts to withdraw some money to buy a few things.

"Let me know if I need to slow down," Snape said as they turned the corner, mixing in with the crowd of a busy London street. Harry stayed a step behind his professor as they weaved in and out of people walking up the street to turn right at the intersection where a large department store stood.

Surprised, Harry followed Snape into the upscale department store. Snape couldn't shop here. Harry knew for a fact they didn't sell black robes like the Professor preferred.

"What size do you wear in Muggle clothes?" the Professor asked as they stopped in the entranceway, Snape turning around to look at Harry.

"Huh?" Harry asked even more surprised. Why was Snape asking him what size he wore? Harry didn't have money with him to buy clothes.

"Do you shop in the Mens or Boys section?" Snape tried again.

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted, not having a clue what size actually fit him. "I have enough clothes, sir."

"What do your pajamas or loungewear consist of?"

"Sweats and a tee shirt. I have money, sir. You don't need to buy me anything," Harry protested feeling uncomfortable. No one ever bought him anything except for his friends on holidays, and Harry was used to Dudley's hand-me-downs.

"My mother insisted," Snape said placing a hand on his shoulder. "She wishes you to be comfortable for your treatments, and I'd rather not deal with her displeasure. Think of it as an early birthday gift."

"I guess," Harry relented, "but only because I don't want to make your mother mad. She seemed nice."

Snape nodded. "Mens or Boys?"

"I really don't know," Harry shrugged, his hands balling up the sleeves of his jumper.

"Then we'll start in the Mens section," Snape decided, directing Harry to the Mens department by the pajamas.

He gasped at the prices listed on the clothes fixtures. While Harry didn't know much about what things cost in the Muggle world, the prices seemed higher than he'd ever pay. "Sir, but this is really expensive."

"Harry," Snape said directing his eyes to him rather than the price signs. "I knew what prices to expect when we walked into the store. Your job today is to not worry about what things cost, but to pick out what you like and will be comfortable in. Don't worry about the total, the Prince family is an old and noble family just like the Potters and Blacks."

"Okay, I'm just not used to this."

"That's fine. Now, we must address a few things before you start picking out things to try on. Remember what he discussed yesterday?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded. How could he forget?

"Good, then you'll remember where your Hickman line will be placed, and any clothing you pick out should accommodate that."

Harry pulled his arms around himself. He didn't want to think about that. The thought of having a line inserted in his chest still creeped him out. When would that happen? He assumed before his treatments started on Sunday, but Snape never told him the day it was going to happen.

"You'll get used to it," Snape promised. "Let's find a set you like first, and go try that on so we know if we're even in the right department." 

"Okay," Harry gulped. He spotted a matching navy blue silk pajama set and was immediately drawn to the table. The color was perfect to match his bedroom, and the fabric felt smooth against his skin. He picked up a medium and held it up, trying to gauge the size, but since it was folded and tied with a ribbon it was useless.

"Try a small," Snape suggested, offering him the bundled set in a small. They moved to the back of the department to the dressing room where an attendant opened up a room for Harry. "Try it on, and let me see."

Nodding, Harry entered the small dressing room where he toed off his trainers and started to undress. When he pulled his shirt over his head, Harry gasped at his own reflection in the full-length mirror. The majority of his lower ribs were visible. He looked worse than after a summer at the Dursleys.

"Are you all right?" Snape asked through the door.

"Fine, sir," Harry called back, his eyes fixed on the mirror. He brought his right index finger up to his right side slowly until he poked his rib. Jumping back, Harry was surprised at how hard his rib felt, like there was no fat between his rib bone and his skin. Quickly, he turned around having enough of the mirror for the day.

Instead, Harry pulled on the pajama bottoms and top before buttoning the top up and pulling the drawstring tight on the bottoms that refused to rest on his waist and kept slipping down. He kept one hand on the bottoms as he opened the door to show Snape.

"Too big," the Potions Master said upon looking him up and down before dropping his voice to a whisper. "However, if you wish to have a set made of silk, adjustments can be made once we return to Hogwarts." Snape fingered his wand in suggestion.

Liking how the fabric felt against his skin too much to not get the set, Harry nodded. "How will the line work?"

"The line will come out about here," Snape explained placing his hand on Harry's upper right chest. "Depending on what's more comfortable for you, you can either leave a button or two open and snake the Hickman out there or thread it between two buttons."

"Okay." It was going to take time getting used to having something sticking out of his clothes, and it was hard to imagine how it was going to work.

"Go change, and then we'll go to the Boys section. We'll have better luck there."

Harry shut the door and changed back into his clothes refusing to even glance at the mirror. After handing the navy pajamas to Snape, they perused the Mens section for a few minutes longer, enough time for Snape to make a few selections for himself.

"But sir, you really should get the red flannel bottoms," Harry suggested, pointing to a rack of flannel bottoms.  He was relaxed when it came to picking things out for someone other than himself. "Flannel is soft and keeps you warm."

"Do I ever wear red, Harry?" Snape asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, no, but it doesn't mean you can't deviate from black," Harry said using an ounce of his Gryffindor courage.

"Go on," Snape gently pushed Harry forward, "to the Boys department for you."

-----

Hiding a pair of navy blue and green flannel pajama bottoms among his armload of clothing, Severus followed Harry out of the Mens department across the store and up an escalator to the Boys department.

The trip was going better than he thought it would. Severus expected to have to fight Harry over buying him clothes. He could tell the teen was embarrassed at first, but seemed to be warming up to the idea. It was important for Harry to have appropriate clothing for his treatments for accessibility to his Hickman and also for comfort. Plus, if the teen lost any more weight, which was likely, the clothes he already had wouldn't just be hanging off him, but would fall off completely.

"Sir?" Harry questioned looking to him for guidance on selecting a size. Severus couldn't believe that the boy had no idea what size he wore. Had the Muggles treated him that horribly to never take him shopping for new clothes?

"Pick out what you like in the largest size. Any smaller and the length will be too short," Severus told the teen.

Harry still looked puzzled as he scanned the racks.

"You have a question?"

"What other types of tops would work for the...you know?" Harry brushed a hand over the spot his Hickman would be placed.

"Anything that buttons or zips down, a Henley if there are enough buttons, tanks. Any of all of those would be appropriate," Severus suggested, shifting his armload of clothes to his right arm. Where was a salesperson to offer assistance? "You might also wish to pick out a robe. It can get chilly even in the summer months down in my quarters."

The teen wound through the racks picking up a variety of colors and styles until he had an armload himself while Severus discreetly picked up a few hats of varying styles and colors for later on before they headed to the nearest dressing room. Severus waited while Harry tried on his selections.

"Are you wishing to be resorted into Slytherin? It can be arranged," Severus asked with an eyebrow hitched when Harry opened the dressing room door dressed in green and black flannel bottoms, a black tank, and a black zip-up.

"Green was the only color left in this size," Harry insisted.

"The correct answer, Mr. Potter, would be that while Slytherin is an honorable House, it is unheard of for a student to be resorted after taking his O.W.L.S," Severus teased pulling up the hood of the zip-up to cover Harry's head. Smirking at the disbelief written across Harry's face, the Potions Master waved the boy back into the dressing room to try the next outfit after commenting they had found the right size. Sometimes it was just too easy to rattle Harry to not take advantage of the opportunity though what possessed him to tease the boy, he had no idea. Severus didn't tease. He scolded and rarely complimented, but never teased.

A half-hour later Harry was armed with a bundle of clothes that came out to seven sets of pajamas, two extra packs of tank tops, and a navy robe with matching slippers. Struggling with their armloads, Severus was happier than ever to spot a wandering saleswoman as they left the Boys department.

"Miss?" Severus called out to the middle-aged woman who looked like she'd rather be anywhere but there.

"What can I do for you today?" the woman said, sounding like it was a phrase she was forced to repeat to every customer she came in contact with.

"Is there a place we can set our purchases down so we can continue our shopping?" Severus asked hating the Muggle version of customer service. It was so much easier in the wizarding world where everything could be shrunk or levitated over to the counter.

"Yes, you can place your items at any of the counters while you continue shopping. The nearest one is to your left in the Girls department," the woman said before taking off.

Severus growled, but followed the woman's instructions. He dropped off his armload with a friendlier saleslady before helping Harry to lug his armload on top of the high counter.

"Sir, what else do we need here?" Harry asked once his arms were free.

"A few things for your room and my quarters," Severus answered directing Harry towards the linens.

"But Professor, you've already done enough, really. I don't need anything else," the teen protested, stopping in the middle of the aisle.

"Harry," Severus said, turning to face the teen, "you need more than one set of sheets for your bed. It's also your room, and as such it should have personal touches picked out by you. Now, come and as I said before your job is to pick out things, not worry about the prices today."

The teen nodded, reluctantly following him to the linens section with a yawn. Severus checked his Muggle wristwatch he wore when he went out into the Muggle world. They had left Hogwarts three and a half hours ago making it four and a half hours since Harry woke up. The Potions Master hadn't realized how long they'd been gone. No wonder the boy was tired. Even without taking into account Harry's leukemia, the teen still suffered from magical core depletion.

"Sit," Severus directed Harry to one of the bed displays, not caring that they weren't for sitting. It was likely a salesperson wouldn't even come by anyway. "It shouldn't take much longer. We'll stop for a bite to eat after we're finished here, and there's just one other place we need to visit before returning."

There was more than one place they needed to visit, but a trip for groceries could wait until that evening or the next day. Worse cast scenario, Severus could send a house-elf to the store for him.

"Okay," Harry agreed sinking into the many pillows the store had used for the display.

Severus walked down the aisles picking out sheet sets to match Harry's room, the whole time making sure he could see the boy out of the corner of his eye. With a stack of the highest quality linens, the Potions Master returned to the display to find Harry with his eyes closed, his breathing deepened in sleep.

"Harry," he gently shook the boy's shoulder after setting his stack of sheet sheets down. Harry jerked awake, bolting upright into a sitting position.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"I know. There's no need to apologize," Severus motioned to the stack, "Which ones do you like?"

"Pale greens and blues," Harry said, peering at the stack, but not going through it.

Severus sighed softly refusing to lose his patience. It wasn't the boy's fault he was exhausted.

"Which material do you prefer? Egyptian cotton or silk?" Severus asked trying to get the task over with as quick as possible.

"Doesn't matter," Harry commented, his eyes drooping shut once again.

Severus set aside four sets, a pale blue and a pale green in both Egyptian cotton and silk. Then, the Potions Master strode through the rest of the department picking up a couple throw blankets to use around his quarters and a pale green silk coverlet and down comforter for Harry's room. He returned to the display waking Harry again before they walked back to the Girls department to pay for their purchases.

Once outside the department store, Severus led Harry into an alley so he could shrink their purchases before they found a small café to eat a light lunch of soup and salad. Allowing Harry to doze off while waiting for their meal to be served gave the teen just enough energy to accomplish their last errand of the day, a stop at a Muggle pharmacy.

Severus grabbed a basket as they walked into the small pharmacy. He and Harry walked or shuffled in Harry's case to the back of the store to the pharmacy counter where Severus pulled out a stack of prescriptions Miss Adamson had flooed down that morning for Severus to fill along with a list of over-the-counter medications Harry might need.

"Are those all for me?" Harry asked, dread lacing his voice.

"You may not need to take all of them," Severus explained in a whisper. "I told the specialist we were going out today, and she wrote them all just in case so we won't need to make a special trip."

"Okay," Harry looked up at him, fear in his eyes at the reminder of what was to begin soon.

"Harry," Severus said squeezing the boy's arm. "It's going to be all right."

The teen nodded, but Severus knew he didn't believe the Potions Masters' words. Throwing caution to the wind, Severus shoved the prescriptions back into his pocket before pulling the teen into an awkward hug.

"It'll be all right," Severus repeated to the boy who came no higher than his shoulder. He gave Harry a moment to soak in the awkward comfort, and then released him to turn back to the pharmacy counter to submit the prescriptions to be filled.

While they waited, Severus gathered the over-the-counter medications and supplies into his basket, leaving Harry to sit on the bench by the pharmacy counter, not wishing to drag the boy needlessly around the small shop.

When Harry's name was called, Severus returned to the counter to pick up Harry's prescriptions and to pay the bill. The pharmacist bagged up their purchases along with the prescriptions. "I wish you luck with your son," she said as she passed the bags to Severus.

Severus blinked. His son? The boy looked nothing like him. He was all Potter.

"Thank you," he forced out, turning to leave, too unsettled to correct her. He supposed he and Harry looked like father and son to an outsider just by the errands they were completing, but it was so unexpected. He hadn't prepared for that assumption.

"Sir?" Harry interrupted his train of thought as they stepped out onto the busy street. "Do we have to apparate back?"

"Yes, it's too risky to enter The Leaky Cauldron to use their floo," Severus said, nudging Harry to follow him into an alley. With a flick of his wand his clothes were transfigured back to his normal robes giving him plenty of room to stash the bags from the pharmacy that couldn't be shrunk because of the medications. "Come closer."

Harry stepped in front of him shuddering from the thought of apparating again. Vowing to shield Harry from the force of apparition better this time, Severus wrapped his arms around the boy before apparating them back to the gates of Hogwarts where Harry landed firmly on his feet and able to keep down his lunch. 

Thursday was the last day Severus had to accomplish the last remaining items on his list. Unfortunately, it was also the day the house-elves were renovating his quarters, which meant Severus had taken over Harry's desk while the house-elves worked and Harry slept in with Flurry balled up beside the boy like she had since Harry started staying in the dungeons. The Potions Master had the fifth, sixth, and half the fourth years' exams to get through along with tabulating final grades before the end of the day. He was stressed and snappy from being behind with his grading, Harry's looming appointment with the specialist the next morning, and making sure his Slytherins were packed and ready to leave. To top it off he was nursing a migraine.

Severus questioned himself again why he insisted on such grueling end-of-term exams. It was torture reading line after line of stupidity offered up by his students. Hadn't they managed to absorb something over the course of the year? Dipping his quill into his red inkwell to inform Miss Weasley that the bruise-healing paste did not contain valerian root or any kinds of roots, Severus found his inkwell empty. Scowling, Severus summoned a new one making it his second of the day, and it wasn't even noon yet.

The door cracked open to admit his new inkwell and with it came a flurry of noise, more than enough to wake Harry. "Sir?" his student questioned, his voice full of sleep.

"Go back to sleep," Severus snapped, realizing a moment later his mistake. "Sorry."

"What are you doing in my room?" the teen yawned as he stretched, not affected by Severus' comment.

"The house-elves are renovating my quarters, and the only other room with a desk available for me at the moment is the library which I have failed to show you as of yet," Severus answered setting down his glasses and quill before turning to face his student who was quickly becoming more than just his student.

"What time is it?" the teen questioned petting Flurry behind her ears, causing the fluffy monster to purr.

"Eleven. There is nothing you must do today though I encourage you to visit with your friends as they will be leaving tomorrow," Severus informed Harry.

The teen shuddered in his navy blue silk pajamas that fit him perfectly. "I don't want to. Not yet. Can't I stay here?" he said in a small childlike tone, pulling Flurry to his side as if the tiny white kitten could shield him from facing the outside world.

"Harry," Severus sighed while crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. "This is your room. I'm not going to kick you out, but you may not see your friends for a while. Wouldn't it be better to talk to them now instead of dwelling on it?"

"I guess, but I can come back at anytime, right?" Harry asked needing reassurance.

"Yes, now go clean up, and if you are quick enough we should be able to make it for lunch in the Great Hall," Severus suggested. If Harry met his friends there, it would give the boy time before his friends accosted him with questions.

"Okay," Harry sighed in resignation before padding off to shower, a bundle of clean clothes in hand. Severus reminded himself to get the house-elves to move Harry's stuff down. It was becoming quite the inconvenience to summon a house-elf to retrieve the boy's things periodically through the day.

Fifteen minutes later, the teen reappeared showered and ready to go, though his pale face and shaking hands suggested otherwise. Harry looked longingly at his bed as if he wished he were still sleeping or perhaps hiding in its protective coverings.

Severus moved to the child firmly grasping his shoulders with his long fingers. "They're your friends," he reminded him. "And remember you may come back at anytime. If I'm not here, I'm either at the Leaving Feast or in the Slytherin dorms making sure they're ready to leave."

Harry nodded leaning into his touch. Severus kept hold of the boy for a few minutes until snatching his hands away.

"Get your shoes on, and let's go before your friends start speculating if I've turned you into potions ingredients," Severus ordered to avoid any awkwardness after their contact. Jumping to follow, Harry pulled on his trainers before they left the dungeons, Harry a few meters ahead of Severus so it didn't look like they were walking together.

When the teen stopped at the door to the Great Hall right as Severus was about to turn the corner to enter through the staff entrance, he was forced to stop his progress. Severus looked around for any stray students that might be hiding in the shadows. Finding none, he strode over to Harry.

"Remember what I said. Anytime though I prefer you at least finish your meal first," Severus repeated to calm the boy's nerves.

"I'll try," Harry said, his small scared voice echoing off the stone walls.

"That's all I ask," Severus said ruffling the boy's messy mop of hair. "Now go before Weasley eats everything."

"Stop it," Harry whined swatting his hand away.

Severus smirked, ruffling the teen's hair one more time. "I will when you start moving. Be back at curfew, and don't take any potions or eat or drink anything that may contain magical ingredients."

"Okay," Harry said taking a deep breath while running a hand through his hair to try to fix it, not that it did much help.

"And Harry?" he called back to the teen with one last thought.

"Yeah?"

"Have fun," Severus suggested before disappearing around the corner to enter through the staff entrance.

Severus seated himself at the Head Table of the filled hall. It was loud with excited children discussing summer plans and seventh years reminiscing about their time spent at Hogwarts.

"Good afternoon, Severus," Albus joyfully greeted him as if his favorite student wasn't severely ill. "How's the grading?"

"Fine," he snapped annoyed with the Headmaster. "It shall be done tonight on schedule."

"Excellent," Albus clapped his hands together. "We wouldn't want to send the children home without complete grade reports."

"Of course not," Severus said, his words dripping with sarcasm. "There's nothing more important at the moment than ensuring exams are graded."

"Now my boy, surely the boy is giving you enough free time by spending much of the remaining time before term ends with his friends," Albus lowered his voice to prevent his words from drifting into the students' hearing ranges.

"Think what you will," Severus closed the conversation with a satisfyingly hard stab to his chicken.

The Potions Master kept the corner of his eye trained on Harry who was walking up the aisle towards the Gryffindor table. The boy squished in beside Neville, effectively using the other boy as a buffer between himself and his best friends.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed loud enough for the entire hall to hear as she practically leaped across the table to engulf Harry in her arms. Severus frowned. Didn't the girl comprehend that Harry wasn't up for her antics?

The teen locked eyes with his, pleading for help while he tried to extricate himself from Hermione. Severus again wondered if encouraging Harry to visit with his friends was a mistake. The boy needed to be stable for his appointment with the specialist in the morning when his Hickman line would be put in.

"Minerva, control your Gryffindors," Severus barked to the Transfigurations professor sitting on the other side of the Headmaster.

"What are you referring...oh," Minerva stood up while giving Severus a knowing look that made him uncomfortable. He refused to acknowledge he was becoming attached to the Potter spawn. No, Harry. It was his duty and nothing else.

Minerva walked over to her Gryffindors and gave Hermione and the surrounding Gryffindors a scathing lecture concerning table manners. In the meantime, Harry sent him a mouthed thank you before pushing around his food on his plate, eating a small bite every few minutes.

-----

After the Gryffindors finished their meal in relative silence afraid of attracting McGonagall's wrath for the second time in an hour, Hermione and Ron dragged Harry to the Room of Requirement. Surprisingly, the room recreated Harry's bedroom in Snape's quarters complete with enchanted mirror and wall mural.

"Wow!" Ron exclaimed flopping onto the bed. "This looks like it could be Malfoy's room."

"Yeah," Harry agreed for the sake of hiding it was in fact a replica of his. Ron wouldn't believe his claim anyway, and if he did, he'd be jealous. Harry sat on the chaise lounge, the closest seat to the door waiting for Hermione and Ron to start questioning him.

It was torture to sit there and wait. He could feel their piercing gazes on him as he balled up the sleeves of his jumper. Harry refused to make the same mistake of displaying his rash that while getting less itchy and red hadn't left yet. Couldn't they get on with it already? He wasn't an animal at a zoo to be watched and examined?

His two friends shared a look before Hermione came to sit beside him. She restrained herself from clinging to him, but her hug still felt uncomfortable, like he was suffocating.

"Hermione, please," Harry pleaded pushing her away.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione broke down, crying while she clung to him in earnest.

Confused, Harry looked to his other best friend for help.

Ron didn't move from the bed as he gave him a sympathetic look, something Ron never did. What was going on? He knew his friends thought staying with Snape was the end of the world, but even that didn't warrant both of his friends' reactions.

"What's going on?" Harry asked with his brow furrowed.

"We know," Hermione hugged him tighter, her cries turning to sobs. What did they know? They couldn't know he had cancer, yet dread welled up inside him.

"Madame Pomfrey told us," Ron explained his look of sympathy turning to fear.

"Told you what? I'm fine," Harry lied, his voice giving him away. Oh, how he wished he could lie as smooth as Snape could.

"You are not fine, Harry James Potter! I can't believe you say you're fine when you have," Hermione yelled, stopping suddenly as if it pained her to continue.

"My magical core is depleted. It's nothing. I'll be fine, really," Harry continued lying. He wasn't ready to tell his friends about his cancer and feared that somehow his friends knew.

"Bloody hell, mate!" Ron exclaimed leaping up from the bed. "We know you have cancer!"

What?

Harry screamed inside his head as he struggled to breathe. They weren't supposed to know. Snape promised it was his decision to make, not anyone else's. Shoving a sobbing Hermione off him and onto the floor, Harry darted up off the chaise lounge. "I have to go," he panicked, his lungs feeling like a dragon sat on them.

His body beaded in perspiration as he struggled to breathe and dizziness clouded his brain. He needed to get back to the dungeons where it was safe, away from everyone else. With that thought, Harry ran.

"Come back!" Ron yelled after him. "Harry!"

Harry ignored Ron's voice. He rushed down the staircases, knocking two second year Ravenclaws into the balusters, but couldn't stop. He needed safety. Now!

It seemed like it took a lifetime for Harry to reach Snape's quarters, but when he did, he ran through the door straight to his room, not even noticing the new entrance chamber the house-elves created. Intending to curl up in a ball on the floor in the corner on the far side of the bed, Harry instead met the black robes of Snape.

Snape's arms stiffly wrapped around him, holding him close. Harry closed his eyes relishing the warmth radiating off the professor as he panted and coughed. "Breathe," Snape instructed guiding Harry's head to his shoulder, holding him in place.

Following Snape's command, he relaxed bit-by-bit breathing in the minty scent emanating off Snape's robes. He felt calmed, soaking in the odd comforting gesture from Snape. More importantly, those arms around him promised safety, a feeling Harry craved but rarely felt.

"Better?" Snape asked loosening his grip after a few minutes.

"Yeah," he answered, mourning the loss of Snape's tight grip, but finally feeling the dragon on his lungs disappear allowing him to breathe normally.

"What happened?" Snape questioned, his voice as soothing as Harry imagined the snarky Potions Master could be.

"They know," Harry whispered into Snape's black robes. As rigid as they appeared, the fabric was soft and welcoming, completely unlike the Potions Professor.

"What? How?" Snape's body tensed under him.

"Madame Pomfrey told them."

The Potions Master jerked away from him. "We had an agreement!" he snarled, pacing in front of him. "I should take this development to the Headmaster, it's ground for dismissal for a mediwitch to break patient confidentiality."

Harry stood still ignoring Snape's outburst, torn between crying and flinging himself back into the Potions Master's arms. Somehow voicing what happened made it real. His friends knew, and if they couldn't keep their mouths shut soon the whole wizarding world would know including Voldemort. Wouldn't the insane madman love to know he could waltz up to him without worrying about him being able to defend himself? 

His control was faltering, the very control he forced himself to maintain. Harry wasn't weak, and only the weak broke down. He didn't have the option to be weak. Harry had to survive so he could rid the world of Voldemort.

"Professor," he choked out.

"What?" Snape snapped glaring at him.

Cringing, Harry stepped back from his professor. "Professor, please," he pleaded, his voice breaking. He felt himself slipping hoping Snape would pull him back over the edge before it was too late.

Snape turned, his anger melting as his eyes locked on him. "Harry, I'm sorry." The man closed in on Harry, wrapping his stiff arms back around him. "I'm not angry at you."

"It's okay," Harry said hiding his face in his professor's robes. He could stay there forever if it meant Snape chased away his demons for him.

"No, it's not," Snape tightened his grip. "I must learn not to direct my anger at whoever is around. I do however need to speak with the Headmaster."

"Please, don't," Harry begged, his short fingers grasping the front of Snape's robes to prevent the man from leaving. Being alone meant sliding back over the edge that Snape prevented him from falling down.

"Harry, what Madame Pomfrey did is inexcusable. She shouldn't have put you in this situation," his professor spoke softly.

"I know, but I don't want to make this any bigger than it already is," Harry begged. "If Madame Pomfrey is fired then Professor Dumbledore will have to hire someone new, and they'll have to be told about me, and what if she looks at me like I'm dying all the time. I couldn't handle that. At least I know Madame Pomfrey."

Harry knew for certain he couldn't have ensured being able to have future children yesterday if it was anyone else in charge of the Hospital Wing except Madame Pomfrey. He also wasn't sure he wanted someone else to see him without his shirt on with as skinny as he was. The Mediwitch never commented on his less than stellar body, and he appreciated that.

"If that is what you wish," Snape relented, "but don't think I won't be having words with her."

"It is," Harry insisted, "I don't want people to know."

"Harry," Snape addressed him, placing a finger under his chin to force him to look into his obsidian eyes. "Cancer isn't shameful. You did nothing to get it, and remember while you may be sick, you're not going to die."

"Then why does everyone act like I'm going to?" Harry protested. He hated those looks that made him feel that he was dying.

"Have I ever lied to you?" Snape questions, his tone dead serious.

"No, sir," he gulped.

"Then believe me when I say that I won't let you die," Severus said, fire dancing in his eyes.

Harry lowered his head back to Snape's shoulder and nodded against it, warmth sweeping through his body, wondering if this was what it felt like having someone caring for him. He believed Snape's words. Somehow, the man would ensure Harry lived, he always did.

Leaning more and more of his weight onto to Snape, his limbs felt heavier and heavier. Harry was sick of the littlest thing tiring him out, but it was useless to fight. His fatigue always won out in the end. Snape guided him over to his bed.

"Don't fight it," the Potions Master said as he helped Harry into bed. "I need to check on my Slytherins and make a short appearance at the Leaving Feast. I'll wake you when I return."

Harry took off his glasses before curling up between the cool sheets. A moment later his eyes drooped shut, sending him into the world of dreams.

-----

Returning to his quarters a few hours after he left them, Severus crept into Harry's room not at all surprised the boy was still sleeping. He was so close to breaking down upon his return, but somehow Severus managed to bring him back from that edge, at least for now.

Harry looked so small curled up in the large bed, so vulnerable. Even in sleep, the boy's eyebrows were furrowed in worry, and the boy didn't know his Hickman procedure was scheduled for the next morning yet. Severus planned to tell him before bed tonight, but perhaps he'd wait until morning, giving Harry less time to fret over the procedure.

With his Slytherins seen to, Severus had one last task before devoting the rest of his night to finish his grading, a task that should brighten Harry's spirit before the whirlwind of procedures and treatments started the next morning.

"Harry," Severus shook the teen awake.

"Hmm?" Harry asked pulling the blanket over his head.

"Get up, or you'll never sleep through the night." Severus doubted the validity of his statement, but he didn't wish to clue the child into his surprise yet.

"Leave me alone," Harry mumbled.

"Fine, if you don't wish to go flying, I'll be at the table grading," Severus said smooth as silk.

"Flying?" Harry jumped up, tangled in his covers like Severus knew he would.

"Yes, flying. It's a pleasant evening to grade exams outside," Severus shrugged, not letting Harry know the whole purpose was to let the teen fly one last time before his treatments started and that it had nothing to do with him wishing to grade exams outside.

"But aren't people going to be using the pitch?" Harry questioned, his shoulders slumping.

"It's the night before departure. You know the Headmaster closes the grounds early to students to allow everyone sufficient time to pack," Severus reminded the boy. He had already thought out his plan to make sure Harry didn't have to face anyone.

"Right, I forgot," Harry untangled himself from the covers, slipping to his feet and pulling on his worn trainers. "Let's go grade papers, sir."

"Not so fast," Severus called the boy back from crossing the threshold into the hall. "Rules first."

"Rules?" Harry asked with dread.

"Yes, rules. I can't have you injuring yourself. No flying above the stands or pulling those crazy stunts you flaunt during matches. Also, limit your speed to a respectable velocity. Is that agreeable?" Severus asked hoping his requests weren't too demanding of the child. It was suppose to be a treat, not an occasion to taunt the boy.

"Yes, sir," Harry smiled bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"I took the liberty of having the house-elves transfer your things to your room. Your trunk is at the end of your bed," Severus informed the boy.

"Thank you," Harry said, returning to his room to fetch his Firebolt and cloak from his trunk.

Severus dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Let's go. There isn't much daylight left."

The Potions Master grabbed his stack of ungraded exams, quill, and inkwell from the table as they made their way out of his renovated quarters.

"Sir? When did you get an entranceway?" Harry asked, surprised as if noticing the renovations for the first time.

"This afternoon. I'll show you the changes and reasons for them later. You really should be more observant of your surroundings," Severus gently chided.

"I... sorry," Harry blushed. "I was preoccupied."

"Indeed," Severus said, mockingly raising an eyebrow.

The teen cracked a sheepish smile as Severus pushed him forward.

Outside, Severus settled into the stands to grade, though more than half the time he spent watching Harry fly. The boy flew lazy circles around the pitch before practicing routine dives, turns, and spins. Every so often, Harry's laugh fluttered down to Severus who found it hard not to take pride in his ingenious idea, but no he wasn't doing it for Harry. Severus let Harry fly to occupy the boy so he could finish his grading, nothing more.

"Harry," Severus called to the boy an hour later as darkness shrouded the pitch. "Time to come down."

"Five more minutes?" Harry asked, his smile faltering.

Severus looked around to gauge the darkness. "Five more minutes, but that's it," he allowed.

"Thanks!" Harry smiled, flying off with his cloak billowing behind him.

The Potions Master finished off the exam he was grading before gathering his things and standing up. Perhaps it had taken him closer to fifteen minutes than five to finish that exam, but who was counting? Harry certainly wasn't. In fact, Severus didn't even have to call the boy down. The teen descended upon seeing the Potions Master get up.

"Have a nice flight?" Severus fought the urge to slap himself. He didn't do pleasantries.

"Yes, sir," Harry smiled, but his smile soon disappeared.

"What is it?" Severus questioned, curious as to what led the boy to lose his smile.

"That's the last time I'll get to fly for a while isn't it?" Harry asked, sliding his hands down the handle of his beloved Firebolt longingly.

"I'm afraid so," Severus said hating the frown that marred Harry's face. Should he just wave the white flag of surrender concerning Harry now and get it over with? The boy was akin to Flurry, sticking around until he wiggled his way past his barriers. "It won't be safe while you're undergoing treatment."

"I understand," Harry sighed. "That doesn't mean I like it."

"Then fight so you can fly again soon," Severus suggested.

"I'll try," Harry said.

"Try, Mr. Potter?" he scoffed, ruffling the boy's hair because he knew Harry hated it. "I have higher expectations for you than that."

"I will," the teen amended with a hint of determination.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Severus awarded as they started their trek back to the castle.

"But sir, you can't give or take points after the Leaving Feast," the teen protested.

"They're for next year then. Besides, we can't have Gryffindor starting off even with Slytherin or my house will surely win," Severus smirked, nudging the stopped teenage whose jaw had dropped. "I see this summer promises to be quite long indeed if you can't handle a simple joke, and close your mouth before a bug flies in, and you start whining over the nastiness of such an occurrence and threatens those ten points you just earned."

"Yes, sir," Harry snapped his jaw closed, running to catch up with his professor.

Severus didn't need tealeaves or a crystal ball to tell him that his summer promised to be long and trying. One look at the child worming his way into his life reminded him of that constantly. It was his job to make the summer and beyond as best as he could for the child starting now with his first official task of making sure Harry received enough rest going into the long day that awaited them. After all, Severus never did anything half-way, and this promised to be no different. 

Just as Severus flooed his final grade reports to the Headmaster's office at precisely 11:59 PM, a low whimpering traveled down the hallway from Harry's room. The Potions Master forwent his celebratory glass of fine red wine that had been sitting under a cooling charm waiting for him as motivation for the last hour and strode down to Harry's room.

"Sirius," Harry moaned in his sleep as Severus swept into the room. The Slytherin groaned with the mention of the mangy mutt. He'd grown past hating Black for their childhood fights to hating him for the man's impulsiveness. If he hadn't ran off to the Ministry, he'd be here for Harry like he was supposed to be, not dead causing the child nightmares.

The child had thrown off his covers except for one sheet, which was tangled up around him. Perspiration beaded his forehead as he thrashed around trapped in a nightmare.

"Harry," Severus called from across the room as he approached the bed, not sure if he should touch the boy to wake him or if it would do more harm than good.

"I deserved it!" Harry screamed. "Sirius, I killed you!"

"Harry," Severus tried again, lightly shaking the teen. It was imperative to get Harry out of the nightmare to address that last statement. A sense of urgency set in as Harry threw his arm off and screamed so loud it made his ears ring.

Not knowing what else to do, Severus climbed into Harry's bed and took the boy in his arms, restraining him from moving by holding him against his chest, his arms pinned to his side. Harry struggled to break free, but the Potions Master had the advantage through both size and strength. The screams continued and Severus thanked Merlin ten times over for being paranoid enough to have his quarters warded with silencing charms lest Harry wake up the entire dungeons. The Potions Master refused to let go of the boy and waited for him to exhaust himself. Finally, after a few of the longest minutes Severus had ever experienced, Harry's screams dampened to whimpers and his body relaxed.

"Wake up, Harry," Severus whispered into the boy's ear. Blinking, the boy surfaced from sleep wiggling under his tight grasp. He loosened his arms as he waited for Harry to fully wake.

"Sir?" the teen asked, his voice hoarse, no doubt from the constant screaming. Merlin, the child gave him a headache. Were his nightmares always that bad, or did Harry save up an extra nasty one just for him?

"Drink," Severus ordered after conjuring a glass of water and handing it to Harry.

"Thank you," Harry said handing the glass back to him after a few drinks. Severus set the glass on the nightstand. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I had a nightmare, didn't I?" the teen assumed putting the pieces together.

Severus nodded, surprised. He had no idea how someone could forget a nightmare like that, he certainly never did. "We need to discuss what you said in your dream."

"Do we have to?" Harry shivered, burying his head in Severus' robes to avoid the Potions Master's gaze.

"Yes," he insisted summoning the fallen comforter from the floor with a wave of his hand and spreading it over Harry. "Do you blame yourself for Sirius' death?" Severus asked being careful not to have any negative inflection in his voice at his childhood rival's name.

"No," Harry said too quickly for Severus to believe from the folds of his robes.

"Are you sure?" Severus pressed.

"Maybe," Harry whispered. "It was my fault."

"Harry, sit up" Severus began, his voice dead serious, nudging the boy to follow his orders. The teen reluctantly sat up, his eyes glassy and holding unshed tears. "Did you raise your wand to your godfather?"

"No," Harry shook his head.

"Did you force Sirius to follow after you to the Ministry or push him into the Veil?" the Potions Master asked knowing the answer, as he was present at the Ministry, having gone after the boy when the Order didn't respond fast enough which led to his cover being blown.

"No."

"Then how is it your fault?" Severus tried to reason with the teen.

"Because I went there," Harry insisted, crawling out of Severus' arms and leaning against the headboard, his knees pulled up to his chest. Flurry settled herself at his feet. "If only I'd have taken your lessons seriously, I wouldn't have let Voldemort lure me there."

"Even if I was successful in teaching you Occlumency, there was a chance the Dark Lord would've broken through your shields anyway," Severus told the teen. "Have you thought perhaps that Sirius was an adult who controlled his own actions? He was waiting for a reason to leave Grimmauld Place, and as an adult it was his choice to go to the Ministry, no one else's."

"But...but he was responsible for me! He couldn't have just let me go off there alone!" Harry argued, hugging Flurry close to his chest.

"Harry," Severus pleaded, trying to get through to the boy. "You weren't alone. I was there as well as the rest of the Order. Sirius knew that. His death was in no way your fault."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, his voice small and trembling, afraid of the answer.

"Positive," Severus reassured the child, reaching over to squeeze his knee.

"SoIdon'thavecancerbecauseIgotSiriuskilled," Harry whispered, too low and squished together for Severus to understand.

"Pardon?"

"My leukemia isn't from getting Sirius killed?" Harry said a little louder and slower for Severus to hear.

The Potions Master's heart stopped. Did the child really believe he deserved cancer, and that he did something to get it?

"Harry, listen to me," Severus whispered, pain in his voice. "You did nothing to deserve leukemia."

"Really?" Harry asked, his face lighting up with hope.

"Really. Do you remember what Madame Pomfrey said about what cancer is?" Severus asked. It was important Harry understood he could've done nothing to prevent or catch cancer.

"I didn't really understand it," Harry admitted with a shrug.

"Cancer happens when something triggers your DNA, that's the things in your body that make you, you, to start sending bad cells to divide at a rapid pace, and those bad cells are the cancer cells that go on to attack your body. Everyone has a few cancer cells in their body when they're born. It's when your DNA is triggered that it progresses into what we call cancer," Severus tried hoping it wasn't above the boy's level of knowledge.

"So you have cancer cells, too? Just not a lot like I do?" Harry asked.

"Yes, or as you alluded to in the Hospital Wing, everyone has a Dark Lord, it's when that Dark Lord decides to recruit Death Eaters is when there's a problem," Severus explained.

"But how does our Voldemorts decide to begin recruiting Death Eaters?" Harry wondered. Severus cringed at Harry's liberal use of the Dark Lord's name, too many years of spying and training himself to refer to the evil megalomaniac as the Dark Lord left its traces. 

"That is the question that doctors have searched for the answer to for decades. No one knows," the Potions Master said with a shrug.

"Oh."

"Flurry seems to like you," Severus changed the subject. With any hope, he could get the boy back to sleep soon, giving them both time for much-needed rest.

"It's strange, usually animals don't like me," Harry admitted, looking down at the furry little ball of fluff, "except Hedwig and a few of Hagrid's creatures."

"It doesn't surprise me that Flurry likes you," Severus said, reaching over to scratch his cat behind her ears. Perhaps he could manage to tell the teen one tidbit of information to send his thoughts away from his nightmare and godfather. "Would you be surprised if I told you she's older than you are?"

"How? She's a kitten?" Harry looked up at him, searching his face for a lie.

"She's not a normal house cat, but a different breed that the wizarding world calls Feles Felices or lucky cats. They are usually the familiars of a Potions Master or aspiring Potions student for their luck, and because they have an uncanny ability to know when a potion is going to explode or boil over and to seek shelter," Severus looked at his cat wistfully.

"But how can she look like a kitten? Is that part of the breed?" the teen asked, confused. Apparently, Hagrid hadn't gotten around to teaching his students about Feles Felices. Then again, they were small and harmless, both of which characterized creatures Hagrid wasn't interested in.

"Yes, they also have a life expectancy of around fifty years, so she's still young." Severus informed Harry.

"So she's your familiar from school?" the teen pieced together.

"No, she was your mother's," Severus admitted with a sad smile. "Flurry probably remembers your scent from when you were a baby."

"My mother's?" Harry asked, surprised, as he hugged her closer. Severus didn't have to read the child's mind that he savored the link that cat held between him and his mother. "I thought my house was destroyed?"

"It was, but Flurry is a smart cat. She was found guarding you in your crib, and Professor Dumbledore gave her to me knowing that Flurry liked me. At the time, I intended to give her to you when you started Hogwarts, but she grew on me," the Potions Master admitted sadly. Even when the little monster ripped up his homework as a teething kitten, she somehow managed to make him forgive her. 

"But how-"

"Despite the memory you saw in the Pensieve, Lily and I managed to reconcile. Flurry was a present from your grandparents for Christmas fourth year." The same year Jesse died from leukemia, Severus remembered, blinking. "She wanted to call the kitten Snowball, but I insisted that the name was too nausea inducing and suggested Flurry instead."

"Will you tell me more about her, my mother I mean?" Harry asked, his emerald eyes shining.

"Not tonight," Severus stated. He couldn't handle any more. Telling the child about Flurry was hard enough. It was painful talking about Lily to the child that signified how much he lost. James Potter got everything; fame, a reputable career, a child, and most importantly the girl. All Severus got was her cat.

"Why?" Harry yawned.

"Because it's late, and you need to sleep," Severus reminded the teen getting up off the bed to smooth down the sheets and spread out the comforter. "Lay down."

Harry slipped under the covers, Flurry tucked in his right arm. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Harry." Dimming the lights and clapping on Harry's wall mural, Severus turned to leave to seek the privacy of his room, knowing his revelation about Flurry all but guaranteed pleasant dreams for Harry.

"Professor?" the teen called as he reached the threshold of Harry's door.

"Yes?" Severus turned to look back at his charge.

"Thank you, sir" Harry flashed him a tired smile.

"Severus," the Potions Master corrected, tired of Lily's son calling him professor or sir numerous times a day.

"What?" Harry asked, surprised.

"You may call me Severus," the Potions Master offered. "Lily would want that."

"Severus," the child tested out.

"Yes, that's how it's said. Now to sleep with you, brat," Severus chided before their chat could grow any sappier.

"I'm not a brat," Harry insisted.

"You're the brat who stole my cat," Severus declared. "Good night."

"Good night, Severus," Harry responded. The Potions Master rolled his eyes, vanquishing the lights as he left the boy's room to the sounds of the cheeky brat's protest, wondering if he made a mistake letting the boy call him Severus.

------

After a blissful night filled with dreams of a redheaded girl with a white fluffy kitten, Harry protested when Snape...Severus shook him awake. "Did you sleep well?" the man asked already dressed for the day, dark circles evident under his eyes.

"Yeah," Harry smiled remembering the girl, his mother, chasing Flurry around a peaceful meadow next to a stream, laughing as the kitten hopped through the long grass.

"Good. I must see off the Slytherins soon, but there are a few things you should know before I go," Snape said, perching on the edge of his bed.

"Okay," Harry reached for his glasses and slid them onto his face.

"After I return, we're due to meet the specialist," Severus reminded him.

Harry frowned. He didn't feel like being a human pincushion today or any day.

"We can't put it off any longer," Severus sighed, squeezing his shoulder.

"I know," Harry trailed off wishing to be back in the meadow with his mother and Flurry.

"She's going to examine you before installing your Hickman," Severus rubbed his shoulder as he tensed. Harry didn't want to feel pain again; the bone marrow biopsy was enough. "Harry, we discussed this."

"I'm scared," he admitted. "I know it's going to hurt."

"It won't be like the bone marrow biopsy," Snape promised. "You'll get an IV in your arm, so we can give you some drugs that'll make you forget the whole procedure and likely make you sleepy. It's a technique called conscious sedation."

Harry liked the sound of forgetting the whole thing. "I won't remember?"

"No, the procedure should take about an hour, and the drugs will wear off soon after. You'll be sore and may be in a little pain, but there will be painkillers ready for you to take. Most likely you'll sleep through most of the day," Severus reassured him.

"Will I have to stay in the Hospital Wing?" Harry hated that place. He wanted to return to his bedroom with his mural, large bed, Flurry, and even Snape.

"Once your vital signs return to normal which shouldn't be long after the sedation drugs wear off, the specialist will clear you to return here, and for the rest of the day and tomorrow, you won't have anything to do but rest and relax."

"Okay," Harry sighed. "You'll be there, right?"

"Yes, if you wish I can start your IV instead of the specialist," Severus offered.

"I'd like that." Knowing the Potions Master would be gentle helped his anxiety over the IV a lot. Severus wouldn't harm him any more than necessary.

He watched Snape pull out a stack of forms from his robes' pocket. "These are the consent forms for your treatments and procedure. Is this your wish still?"

Not really having to think about it, Harry nodded. His options were to undergo treatment or die, and he didn't want to die. Snape, Severus promised he wouldn't let him.

"I'll just sign these then." The Potions Master made a show of taking out a never-out quill and signing each form, one-by-one. Snape didn't have to do that, but Harry appreciated the gesture. It meant Severus was keeping his promise of listening to Harry and considering his opinions. "All signed. As part of your procedure, you can't eat or drink anything, so while I'm gone take a shower, dress in a pair of pajama bottoms and your robe, and relax until I return."

Relax? Did Snape honestly think he'd be able to relax? He wasn't the one waiting to be cut into so they could stick a tube in him and leave it there!

"Harry," Snape soothed, running the back of his long fingers across his cheek, "it'll be okay."

Grabbing Snape's forearm, Harry wrapped his arms around it, pulling it to his chest, needing the physical contact to remind him this wasn't a nightmare. "Don't go," he begged.

"I have to," Severus said, torn. "It should take less than an hour. The students are already making their way down to the train."

"Okay," Harry whispered defeated as he released Snape's arm. "I'll just take a shower and play with Flurry."

Severus stood up, but not before squeezing Harry's shoulder one last time. "Flurry doesn't mind water," he added. "She'll jump in if you let her."

Harry nodded and watched his professor leave until he couldn't see him anymore and heard the door click close. Gulping, Harry pushed himself out of bed and gathered clothes from his wardrobe before heading into his bathroom, Flurry in tow.

After a quick shower, Harry got ready, but neither task took much time, even with the extra step of drying Flurry, leaving Harry with nothing to do but wait. He wandered out into the sitting room and sat on the sofa, staring at the door, waiting for Snape to return.

"Meow," Flurry rubbed up against his leg, a plastic stick in her mouth with a toy mouse attached by a string dragging behind her. Harry reached down and took the stick from the cat, waving it around for her to attack.

Severus returned after Flurry managed to pull the stick away from him for the fourth time. "Ready?"

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Come then. She's waiting for us," Snape directed, his tone sounding ominous to Harry. Dropping the cat's stick, he walked over to Severus who put his hand around his shoulder and squeezed. They walked to the other side of the sitting room to the door that now led to a small entrance chamber that housed the floo, a sink, and a small wardrobe. The Potions Master took a pinch of floo powder before guiding Harry into the floo and calling out their destination. There was no turning back now. 

Harry stepped out of the floo with Snape to see Madame Pomfrey and a middle-aged woman Harry didn't know bustling about the Hospital Wing preparing for his arrival. He froze. "Remember, it won't be like the bone marrow biopsy," Severus whispered, nudging him to keep walking.

"Hello Harry, Severus," Pomfrey greeted them with a wave of her hand to direct Harry to a bed, her eyes filled with guilt.

"Hi," he mumbled, unconsciously stepping closer to his professor.

"Sit down, dear. Miss Adamson is almost ready, and then she'll begin with an examination," Pomfrey gestured to his usual bed.

Looking up to see Snape nod, Harry climbed onto the bed, noticing for the first time the blanket folded at the bottom on the bed wasn't white but purple with white diagonal stripes. "I never knew you had purple blankets," Harry stated.

"It's for use when patients can't have potions," Pomfrey explained. "The stripe ensures that even if a person were colorblind they'd know without reading your chart that you can't have potions."

"Oh," Harry shivered, reality starting to sink in. It was looking more and more like his cancer wasn't a horrible nightmare. Pulling the blanket up and over him, he noticed the special blanket was thicker and softer than the normal Hospital Wing linens.

"It's standard procedure," Snape reassured him with a squeeze on his arm. Harry grabbed his calloused hand as Snape went to snatch it away, pulling it to his chest as he curled onto his side facing the Potions Master and away from Pomfrey.

He really didn't want to be there and each new little thing was scaring him more and more. Every other time he had been sick, Pomfrey didn't need to take any special precautions besides fending off reporters and Ministry officials, but that was because he was Harry Potter, not because he was sick.

"Mr. Potter?" a friendly voice asked from behind him.

"Harry," he insisted, not turning around or looking up to the woman addressing him. He just wanted to be Harry, not The-Boy-Who-Lived. Harry could be scared, Harry Potter couldn't.

"All right, Harry, I'm Miss Adamson or Miss Lucy if you prefer. Can you sit up for me?"

Harry reluctantly sat up, getting his first good look at Miss Adamson. She had a warm, welcoming presence that fit with her brightly colored scrubs with flying fire-breathing dragons. A smile sat on her face where the smallest of lines had started to appear. She was short like him and held a neon green wand. He instantly liked her.

"Hi Miss Lucy," Harry said staring at her wand. He never knew that wands came in non-natural colors.

"It's a glamour for the little children," the Specialist flicked the wand, erasing the green to be replaced with a lighter colored wood. "I forgot to change it back after rounds this morning. I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to treat you like my little ones."

"It's okay," Harry said, missing the green wand. It was neat looking and he wondered if Snape...Severus could teach him how to do it. Well, once his magic started working right again, if it ever did. He squeezed Snape's hand harder. Harry had to regain control over his magic. He was a wizard, and the wizarding world was where he belonged.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Miss Adamson asked while starting to run a series of scans with her wand.

"Fine," Harry shrugged, not willing to admit how scared he was.

"Don't worry. This will just take a second. I'm checking and recording your baseline levels in different areas in your body for comparison later. Then, we'll get you set up so you won't remember a thing," she smiled.

Harry gulped knowing that meant the IV. Couldn't the wizarding world have figured out a superior way for inserting IVs by now? Some way without a needle?

"Good," Miss Adamson said as the final scan was completed. "Besides the leukemia, your organs and body are in good health. That's a good sign before starting chemo. Did Poppy or Severus inform you of the chemo regimen for the induction phase?"

Induction? Regimen? It sounded like he was being inducted into war, war with his own internal Voldemort.

"We didn't discuss it," Snape informed the Specialist.

"All right," the witch said, perching on the side of his bed, "Harry the induction phase of chemotherapy has one goal with ALL. We're trying to induce remission, which is where there are less than five percent of blast cells present in your bone marrow and all symptoms disappear. To do this we're going to use a month long induction treatment schedule. The first and fourth weeks you'll be on chemo twenty-three hours a day, then weeks two and three you'll be off while your blood and platelet counts recover. During that time you'll have four intrathecal chemo treatments, one a week. If we're able to follow and complete this schedule, there's a good chance you'll be in remission by the end of the month."

His eyes widened. Twenty-three hours a day for a week? No one mentioned that before, and they were sure this would help, not poison him? Unconsciously, he began to tremble.

"Harry, this treatment regimen has been used with other wizarding children successfully before," Severus squeezed the hand that Harry held captive. "It's okay to be nervous."

"I know it's a lot to take in," Miss Lucy said, "but I've found that wizards your age tend to do best when they know what'll happen going into it."

"Okay," Harry said for lack of anything else to say. "Can we get to the point where I don't remember anything?" He couldn't take much more, and wasn't it ironic that when finally someone offered Harry all the information he wanted, Harry didn't want a word of it?

"Of course, but first there's one more thing." Miss Lucy pulled out a stainless steel bracelet. The thin chain was charmed purple attached to a flat disk of glowing steel. "This is a bracelet similar to a Muggle medical alert bracelet, only better. The disk is charmed to hold your chart magically in case of an emergency when someone can't access your physical chart. It also works as an emergency portkey that'll transport you either here or St. Mungo's depending on which is safest when you touch the disk and say Mickey Mouse."

"Mickey Mouse?" Harry questioned knowing he heard the name somewhere once.

"It's the name of a popular Muggle cartoon, something no Death Eater will ever guess, not to mention that most of my kids seem to get a kick out of it," Miss Adamson shrugged.

Was this bracelet an admission of how sick he'd get, that he might need to be transported to St. Mungo's by an emergency portkey?

"Now once I place this on your wrist, you won't be able to take it off, nor will anyone else. It'll become invisible and stay that way unless you enter St. Mungo's. Okay?"

Harry nodded. A special bracelet he could handle, especially when he could so easily think of it as a way to escape Voldemort.

"Are you right or left handed?"

"Right."

"Hold out your left wrist then," the Specialist ordered.

Harry forced himself to let go of Snape's hand to hold out his left wrist to Miss Adamson. She wrapped the cold metal bracelet around his wrist, adjusting it with her wand to the right size before clasping it, and it immediately became invisible. Harry could still feel the bracelet, but it made no sound nor was it visible from any angle.

"There, now we can move into the procedure room and before you know it, it'll be all over," Miss Lucy motioned for him to get up before turning to Snape. "Do you have the consent forms?"

Harry saw the Potions Master hand over the signed forms, and then the man directed Harry into the procedure room while Miss Adamson made sure all the forms were in order. A shiver ran up his spine seeing the rolling trays covered with sheets.

"Take off your robe and hop up on the table," Severus said, "I'll return in a minute."

Watching Snape leave the room, Harry tugged his robe around him tighter. He didn't want to take it off. He was too thin and bony, a sight he didn't want his professor seeing. Scared, Harry didn't move until Snape returned to the room, pushing the door open with his hip, his gloved hands held up in front of him.

"Harry," the Potions Master sighed. "Take off your robe."

"But sir...Severus, I..." Harry trailed off looking down at his robe-clad chest.

"It's okay. No one is here to judge you," Snape reassured him as much as he could without touching anything.

Gulping, Harry pulled off his robe and folded it before setting it onto a chair. Goosebumps prickled his skin from the cool air causing Harry's trembling to become more pronounced. He hopped up onto the procedure table and laid back as his professor levitated a purple blanket over him, floating it down to cover him.

"Better?"

Harry nodded, watching Severus move to his right side, waving his hand to uncover a tray.

"Look the other way." Harry needed no more verbal cues to turn his head away from Snape, even closing his eyes to ensure he couldn't see what the Potions Master was doing. He felt a tourniquet being tied around his arm as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter waiting for the needle prick. A cold moist pad was rubbed over his right hand and Harry jumped. He forgot about that part.

"Relax," Snape's smooth soothing voice reminded him as he rubbed the pad clockwise around a spot on Harry's hand.

"I can't," he admitted feeling more and more anxious as each second went by.

"Take a few deep breaths, concentrate on that. Breathe in," Snape instructed. Harry listened, desperate for the day to be done and over with. "Good, breathe out...Again."

Concentrating on the Potion Master's instructions, Harry found himself less alert to everything else, so much so that when the needle finally pricked his skin as he breathed in, it felt nothing more than a sharp pinch, the pain disappearing before a minute ticked by. Afraid to look, Harry kept his eyes closed as he felt the Potions Master mess with his hand a little longer.

"All done. It's safe to look," Snape informed him as he pressed down a transparent dressing. Harry cracked open one eye before opening the other after seeing it was indeed safe to look. "The drugs will take a few minutes to take effect, so until then relax. I'm going to slide outside for a moment to tell Miss Adamson that I'm finished, and Harry if the drugs make you sleepy don't fight them. You did a fine job with the IV."

"Okay," Harry yawned, tired from the morning already. He doubted the drugs worked that fast, but he worried he was too nervous and scared to fall asleep.

"I'm going to slip this on your finger," the Potions Master held up a small plastic object before sliding it onto Harry's left index fingertip. "This will help us monitor your stats."

He nodded, not at all interested in what Snape did with that plastic thing, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier as each second passed. Giving up the fight and his worries, Harry slipped into sleep to the rhythmic beeping that filled the procedure room.

-----

Taking a step outside the procedure room, but angling so he never lost sight of Harry, Severus nodded to Miss Adamson. She was holding a quiet conversation with Madame Pomfrey. "Severus, a word before we proceed," the Specialist tilted her head, motioning for him to join her halfway across the open room.

Severus remained composed as he strode over to Miss Adamson once Poppy crossed into the procedure room to monitor Harry, but inside he felt his stomach drop. Was there some bad news that she hadn't wished to tell Harry going into the procedure?

"Yes?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of worry.

"It's not like that," Miss Adamson smiled, dismissing his concern. "Poppy informed me of Harry's aversion to needles and since he's under conscious sedation already, I wish to administer Harry's first round of intrathecal chemo before inserting the Hickman. It would be less traumatizing for Harry and after he realizes there's no lingering pain except for maybe a headache, then the other rounds won't prove to be such an event for Harry to grow anxious about. That is of course if you approve."

"That is wise. My only concern is that Harry would view it as betrayal. I gave my word he'd be allowed his opinions and that I'd take them into account when making my decisions," Severus reasoned, wondering if Harry would forgive him if he said yes, while knowing it was the right decision to help Harry move past the bone marrow biopsy because there were more bone marrow biopsies and intrathecal chemo rounds in Harry's future.

"A valid concern, but most patients are just glad the procedure is over. He's a child, and as adults we must do what's best to make the experience as comfortable and as painless as possible," Miss Adamson reminded him of the professional stance concerning children.

"Of course, I'm concerned over the mental ramifications as well," Severus sighed wondering just how much Harry could handle. "He lost his godfather a few weeks ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that and I hate to press you, but I need your decision now," she said looking at the clock on the wall.

"Go ahead," Severus decided firmly, running his hand through his hair. He'd deal with the consequences that came with it later, but for now at least he could ensure that Harry felt less pain.

"A wise decision," Miss Adamson stated with a sad smile. "Will you send Poppy out here?"

Nodding curtly to Miss Adamson, Severus returned to the procedure room feeling the sterilization charm Poppy placed on the room tingling against his skin as he passed over the threshold. Poppy got up and left the room avoiding eye contact with him. While the Potions Master harbored anger against her, he refused to vent it in Harry's presence. The child didn't need anything else to worry about, but he'd address her later, when Harry didn't need him.

Severus pulled a chair up to Harry's left side, settling in for the duration of Harry's procedures. He took Harry's left hand and watched the boy's chest rise and fall with each breath. Had he made the right decision? Severus hadn't expected to be so conflicted in making decisions for the boy. As a man trained in the healing arts, he knew the professional recommendations, but now he had to counter those with Harry's specific needs and what the boy could handle. It was similar to balancing a delicate scale, and Severus hoped he hadn't just tipped it.

"Sir?" Harry mumbled.

"Yes, it is I. Miss Adamson is about to start. Are you comfortable?" Severus asked, squeezing Harry's hand.

"Yeah, but tired."

"Go to sleep," the Potions Master suggested knowing everything would go smoother if Harry slept through the procedures.

"Okay," the teen smiled as if he was just given a present before his eyelids shut once again.

A few minutes later, Miss Adamson entered the room gown, mask, and gloves in place. Severus rolled Harry onto his left side and pushed his knees up to his chest in preparation for the intrathecal chemo injection and spinal tap, glad when Harry didn't wake up. Waiting for the last moment possible, Severus finally pulled the blanket down to Harry's legs, exposing the boy's scrawny frame before sitting back down to concentrate on Harry while Miss Adamson and Poppy started prepping the child for the spinal tap and chemo injection. Harry didn't need him memorizing every clinical detail, but needed him to be right there in case he woke up in the middle of either procedure.

Severus tuned out the witches, concentrating on his grasp around Harry's hand and watching for the slightest hitch in Harry's body to indicate he was in pain, but the spinal tap and Harry's first taste of chemo went better than he'd hoped for, with Miss Adamson having no troubles as Harry slept on, oblivious to the chemotherapy traveling up his spinal column and to his brain.

When Poppy's hands rolled Harry onto his back, Severus finally looked up to Miss Adamson. "The sample looks good, but we'll know for sure after the test results come in," she informed him, referring to the spinal fluid sample she held up. It would be a bad sign if the leukemia had spread to Harry's spinal column and brain. Either way, Harry needed multiple intrathecal injections. It was just a question of how many cycles the boy needed.

Severus remained on high alert once Miss Adamson had rescrubbed and began the Hickman procedure. He tried to concentrate on Harry, but seeing Miss Adamson take a scalpel to make a small nick into his skin for the Hickman was hard to ignore.

"Hurts," Harry protested with his eyes closed, and Severus looked to Harry's IV, watching Poppy monitor Harry's drug intake level.

"Is it more pressure and tugging and pulling or pain?" Miss Adamson asked as she continued the procedure.

"Pressure," he answered.

"Okay," Miss Adamson signaled to Poppy to up the drug dosage. "It should be gone in a minute or two. Concentrate on squeezing Professor Snape's hand."

Severus felt Harry's grip tighten around his hand, and he returned his attention to Harry. "Hold on, Harry," he encouraged. "You're doing great." He watched Harry struggle through the uncomfortable sensations helpless to do anything until the drugs kicked in and Harry's face visibly relaxed.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered, his grip on Severus' hand loosening.

"Relax sweetie," Miss Adamson threaded the guide wire into Harry while watching a magically produced image that directed her into the right spot.

"Is she almost done?" Harry opened his eyes to look at him.

"Not quite," Severus responded watching Harry's eyes wander over to Miss Adamson. "Look at me. Don't watch her."

"Sleepy," Harry stated as the higher dose of drugs started working fully.

"It's okay, you can go back to sleep." Severus reached up and tentatively ran his hand through Harry's hair as Harry turned his head into the touch. Harry closed his eyes again, and Severus hoped this time Harry would stay asleep until Miss Adamson was finished.

Severus continued to stroke Harry's hair as the Specialist inserted the Hickman catheter and placed a dissolving stitch to keep it in place until Harry's skin grew around the little cuff that would keep it in place after that. Then she waved her wand to produce an image similar to a Muggle x-ray to ensure the Hickman was correctly placed before cleaning and bandaging the sites, and flushing each of the three lumens, or leads into the catheter, with a heparin solution before looping the exposed part of the Hickman and securing it against Harry's skin with a transparent dressing. Finally, she removed the IV from the teen's hand. 

"All done," Miss Adamson confirmed with a smile. "Once he wakes and the drugs wear off, you'll be able to take him back to your quarters."

"Thank you," Severus said, not taking his eyes off Harry.

"It's my job," she shrugged. "Let me know when he wakes."

Nodding, the Potions Master tucked the purple blanket back around Harry and prepared himself to wait by pulling out a Potions journal from his robes.

Harry surprised him when not even ten minutes later, the child cracked open his eyes with a whimper. Immediately, Severus pocketed the journal and looked down at his charge. "How are you feeling?"

"Is it done?" Harry asked, sounding like he was floating between sleep and being awake.

"Yes, are you in any pain?" Severus pulled out his wand, sending green sparks out the door to get Miss Adamson's attention.

"A little," Harry answered as Miss Adamson came back in the room with a glass of water and a painkiller.

"Take this sweetie," Miss Adamson handed over the pill to Harry after Severus helped him sit up. Severus continued to support the boy as he swallowed the pill and took a few sips of water, tugging on Severus' arm to be helped to lie down again. The Potions Master slid Harry back down to bed, noting the child fell back asleep before his head ever hit the pillow.

"His stats are back to normal," Miss Adamson remarked as she took the plastic monitoring device off Harry's finger, the rhythmic beeping silencing, a reminder of how quickly the conscious sedation drugs wore off. "I assume you can tell Harry the precautions he'll have to take with his Hickman and you know the procedures to clean and flush it?"

Severus nodded.

"Good, then I see no reason why he isn't ready to be moved to your quarters where he'll be more comfortable. I'll stop by sometime tomorrow afternoon to check in and discuss what time you wish to start his chemo on Sunday," the Specialist suggested.

Severus acknowledged Miss Adamson with a dip of his head as she left the procedure room. The Potions Master stood up to bundle Harry in the purple blanket before lifting him into his arms, holding the teen close to his chest.

Leaving the procedure room, Severus strode straight to the floo, whisking Harry back to his quarters where he settled the child into bed and resumed reading his Potions journal. He turned back to the page of an article written by one of his Slytherins that graduated three years prior, content to wait until the boy woke up for more than five minutes.

A few hours ticked by before Harry started moving around. Severus set down the Potions journal and watched, looking to see if Harry was waking or simply moving around in his sleep. The teen rolled over onto his stomach and a second later jumped up, all signs of sleep gone from Harry's face.

The emerald eyes were wide with fear and panic as his right hand traveled down his chest blindly, searching for the object that shouldn't be there. "My glasses," Harry demanded his breathing speeding up and sweat beading his skin as panic set in.

Harry's fingers traced the long tubing extending from his chest down his ribcage where it looped, held there by a dressing to keep the three lumens secure as all thought of needing his glasses went out the door. He had seen enough. "Take it out!" Harry screamed, resisting the urge to pull out the repulsive accessory himself, but just barely.

"Harry," Snape soothed, grabbing his hands, holding them tight within his own.

"Take it out!" he screamed again as he tried to pull his hands free. Harry had to get that thing out of him. It couldn't be there; it couldn't be true. It had to be a nightmare. He couldn't really have cancer!

"Harry, calm down," Snape said, his voice steady without a hint of panic. 

"No!" Harry gasped in between heavy shallow breaths. He ripped his hands away from his professor, and slid off the other side of the bed, backing into the corner until he hit the wall. "I can't! This can't be happening!"

"I assure you this is not a nightmare," the Potions Master said patting the bed beside him. "Come sit down."

"No! You're lying! You can't fool me again, Voldemort. I won't fall for it!" It was just like Voldemort to lure him into a sense of false security only to prey on him once Harry submitted to the plan. He cursed himself for the millionth time over not taking Occlumency lessons seriously. Harry didn't know how to fight his way out of the trap except for holding on until Voldemort got sick of invading his mind and left.

"Harry, it's not a trick," Snape said, inching towards him. "This is real."

"No, it's not! I can't have cancer! Wizards don't have Muggle diseases!" Harry reasoned stomping his foot on the hard stone floor, his hands balled into fists at his side.

Snape slid closer to him, too close for Harry's comfort.

"Get away from me!" Harry warned as his nails dug further into his fists.

"No," Severus responded, stepping closer to reach out to him.

"Go away!" Harry screamed. "Get away from me if you won't take this bloody thing out of me now, you bastard!"

"No, I will not, Mr. Potter," Snape stated firmly.

Harry screamed, charging the man in front of him. Pushing Snape out of the way, Harry slipped past him, running towards his nightstand to slam his glasses onto his face and point his wand at his professor. "Get out!" he threatened.

"Harry," Snape soothed, holding his hands up. "Put your wand down."

"You can't tell me what to do! I said get out!" Flicking his wand, Harry had a multitude of curses and hexes at the tip of his tongue, prepared to force Snape to exit his room.

"Potter, put your wand down this instant!" Snape demanded but never reached for his own wand. Just like Voldemort wouldn't, not at this early stage of a battle.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled. His magic had to work; it was the key to getting out of the nightmare. He had to fight; his own magic would protect him. It never failed to protect him yet.

Until now.

"Stupefy!" Harry tried again, willing his magic through his wand, desperate to stun his professor. Still nothing, not even the faintest spark.

"Put down your wand," Snape whispered in his ear from behind him, his hand resting on Harry's right forearm. Harry jumped, spinning around to face the Potions Master, his wand poking Snape in the chest. When had his professor moved?

"Go away," Harry insisted, his voice cracking as he pressed his wand into Snape's chest.

"No, Harry. I'm staying right here," Snape whispered, his breath tickling Harry's ear as Harry felt warm arms wrap around him and pull him close.

It wasn't possible to completely feel warmth in dreams...

"I really have cancer? This is real?" Harry asked, afraid of the answer. He was just barely holding on. He could handle battling Voldemort, he had grown up getting used to the idea. But this, it was the unknown, a red herring thrown into the chaos his life already was.

"Yes."

Harry's heart stopped. No. But yet he had known it all along. He let out a gut-wrenching sob as his knees buckled underneath him, but he didn't fall. Snape caught him as reality set it.

It was real. He had bloody cancer! That thing sticking out of him proved it. Harry had tried so hard to convince himself that he was fine, that Sirius wasn't dead, that a prophecy didn't dictate his life.

Sobbing harder, he pounded his fists against Snape's chest. He no longer cared that tears cascaded down his cheeks in front of his once most hated professor. It wasn't fair. Everything bad happened to him, never to anyone else.

"Shh," Snape shushed him as his hand reached up to cup the back of Harry's head, directing his head to rest against Snape's shoulder and the soft robes that covered it.

"Why me?" Harry choked out between sobs, seizing the front of Snape's robes to anchor himself in reality. He needed contact, a reminder he was alive and that someone cared what happened to him.

"Because you're a fighter, and you'll beat this Harry," Snape stated as he rubbed small circles in the middle of Harry's bony back.

"I'm tired of fighting, I'm tired of people dying," he cried leaning his slight weight completely into Snape. "I just want to be normal."

It was all Harry ever wanted. Since he was three years old, he knew he wasn't normal. Aunt Petunia has taken Dudley and him to the local park and while his aunt watched Dudley every second to make sure he didn't fall as he played with the other kids, Harry was already an outcast, dressed in Dudley's stained clothes and a diaper that was too big and slid down every time he moved. Harry was left to play by himself, unwatched until he had slipped off the playground while trying to reach for the monkey bars and broke his wrist. Aunt Petunia had only walked over to him once the other mothers glared at her, and they left the park never to return. It wasn't until Harry kept his relatives up the whole night with his cries of pain that Uncle Vernon barked to Aunt Petunia to take the freak to the doctor. That freak was him.

"Fight to live, and you can be normal," Snape said bringing Harry back to the present where he was still somewhat of a freak. Normal things happened to normal people, and Harry was anything but normal. This was just another example of the freakishness in his life.

"No, I can't. I have to kill him." It was always at the back of his mind. One day he had to murder someone, kill a living being that could think and reason. Despite Voldemort's evilness, the megalomaniac was still a person, and Harry didn't know if could ever take another person's life, even if that person was determined to kill him.

"No, you don't," Snape insisted.

"Yes, I do. The prophecy-"

"Forget the prophecy. It's none of your concern," the Potions Master cut him off as he held him closer, keeping him warm from the chill of the dungeons.

"But-"

"No buts," Snape ordered. "Prophecy is rubbish and inaccurate at best."

"Voldemort," the Potions Master stiffened around him, "will come after me, and I can't even cast a Stupefy."

"You're safe here."

"What if he gets into the castle?" Harry asked, reaching up to wipe the tears from his eyes that refused to stop falling.

"I'll protect you. You're not alone," Snape promised.

"But I am. Sirius...he..."

"Died, yes."

"Sirius," Harry wailed, dammed up grief flooding through him. His godfather was gone, dead before Harry really ever got to know him, before Sirius could rescue him from the hell that was the Dursleys, and he wasn't coming back. With Sirius, he had a chance for a family, someone that wanted him. But now he was faced with cancer without Sirius.

Harry didn't doubt Snape wouldn't put up with him for long. No one ever did. Then where'd he go? Back to the Dursleys where they'd lock him in his cupboard until he died a painful death? 

"You're not alone," Severus repeated.

"Then why do I feel like I am?" he wondered out loud, burying his head into Snape's shoulder.

"I'm here, Harry," Snape whispered, his voice sounding weird and foreign to Harry's ear.

"You never were before. You hated me!" the Gryffindor accused pushing away from his professor. His legs felt like jelly, and it was a struggle to stay upright on his feet, but he would endure. He always made it by himself before, and he could do it again. He had to. Harry didn't trust anyone but himself.

"That was before," Snape admitted as he reached out to steady Harry.

The Gryffindor backpedaled as realization set in. "Great, so now I'm the sick cancer kid that everyone feels sorry for! That's why you're here isn't it?"

It was one more reason for people to treat him specially. Harry hated it.

"No, that wasn't what I meant," Snape corrected allowing Harry his space for the moment.

"Then what was?" he asked as he held onto the foot of his bed to keep himself from falling. His body refused to cooperate with him, to allow him to stand tall and show that he was strong and wasn't intimidated by his professor.

"Before I realized you were Lily's son, not James junior," the Slytherin whispered, pausing at Lily's name.

"I'm just Harry. I never knew my parents!" Harry cried tired of everyone expecting him to be like his parents. He threw his arms to the side in frustration as he forgot how much he needed the footboard's support to keep upright.

"I know that now," Snape affirmed catching Harry before he fell and coaxed him into leaning against his chest.

"And you don't hate me?" Harry asked, his voice small and childlike from the folds of Snape's robes, next to a tear-stained puddle.

"No."

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

"Why?" Snape cupped his jaw with one hand, forcing him to look into his professor's obsidian eyes, eyes that normally masked all emotion, but today held a tumultuous sea of sadness and determination.

"Because I hate being me," Harry admitted as he averted his eyes to the floor. He had always hinted at it, sometimes joked he hated his life, but never had Harry admitted to hating being Harry Potter with conviction behind his words. He never wanted the fame, attention, or special treatment.

"You shouldn't," the Potions Master said stiffening at Harry's confession.

"I can't help it," Harry cried. "Everyone acts like I'm some public property they can touch and discuss, like I'm not a real person. They expect me to be some hero that'll save them all. I can't, I can't be that person." He moved closer to Snape, resting against the man whose arms were the only thing holding him up.

Harry was tired of being the hero. He was sick of it before, but now with Cedric's and Sirius' death, Harry wanted to run away and escape to a place where Harry Potter meant nothing more than a teenager who struggled with Potions and excelled at quidditch and Defense. He yearned for a childhood.

"You don't have to be," Snape offered.

"No one will leave me alone," he pointed out with a shiver. "I don't choose to seek reporters out."

"Ignore them," the Potions Master suggested as he draped one side of his outer robe over Harry.

"They'll print horrible things about me like they think I don't have feelings. I do," the Gryffindor insisted. It's what everyone forgot. They never asked how he was for the sake of wanting to know. They just had to be sure he was okay to face the next obstacle in getting rid of Voldemort.

"Harry, what are you feeling right now?" Severus whispered.

"Terrified," Harry confessed closing his watery eyes as he choked back yet another sob. "I'm so scared. You keep telling me I won't die, but everyone else is acting like I will. I don't want to die."

"You won't," Snape insisted, tightening his hold on him.

"But what if I do? What if the chemo doesn't work?" Harry wasn't sure he wanted the answer. So far they kept telling him that chemo was the only option and with the talk about remissions it sounded like chemo didn't always work.

"Then you'll have a bone marrow transplant," the Professor informed him.

"What's that?" It sounded scary and painful. He gulped wanting nothing to do with bone marrow procedures of any kind.

"Someone who matches your blood and magic types donates some of their bone marrow to give you, which in turn will wipe out your immune system and replace it with theirs," Severus explained.

"What happens if a match can't be found?" Harry questioned, fear evident in his voice. It sounded like a match had something to do with a person's genes, and he knew from Muggle primary that a person's genes came from their parents, something Harry didn't have, nor did he have an abundance of relatives, or any unless you counted the Dursleys, which he didn't like to count.

"Then we'll look for a match with the Muggles," Snape said, determined. "Harry, we'll find a match if I have to invent a potion to make it happen."

"What happens to my magic then? With a Muggle match?" he clarified.

"It's possible you could become a squib," the Potions Master laid out the worst-case scenario, "but that's better than dying."

"I could lose my magic?" Harry cried, his stream of tears endless. "Professor, I can't. I don't fit in with Muggles."

"Your friends wouldn't abandon you, and you wouldn't have to live in the Muggle world," Snape assured him, beginning to rub small circles on his back again. Harry pressed back against his professor's fingers. He was stiff and sore, and Snape's ministrations were making a world of difference on his back muscles.

"But I'd be different." Harry wanted to be normal, not even more different from his friends than he already was.

"The amount of magic you have doesn't change who you are as a person. You'd still be Harry," Snape lectured as his calloused fingers found a large knot in Harry's back.

"I still don't want to lose my magic," Harry said through gritted teeth. The knot hurt, but in a good way, and Harry forced himself to endure it knowing it would feel better once Snape worked out the knot.

"It's only if we have to pursue that road, and it's not guaranteed that'd you'd be turned into a squib if it's necessary," Snape informed him, lightening his touch.

"And if that doesn't work?" he whispered breathing in the comforting minty smell that emanated from his professor's robes.

Harry was too young to die. He just couldn't, not yet.

"I won't let you die," Snape declared, stopping his ministrations to ensure Harry got the message.

"And what if I survive-"

"When you survive this," Snape corrected.

"When I survive this, what if after that Voldemort kills me anyway? Is all this stuff worth it? Chemo sounds horrible. I want to live, not just survive," Harry rambled trying to regain control over his emotions by lifting his head from the fold of Snape's robes and wiping his eyes with his arm while he sniffled. 

"Harry, you can't think that way," the Potions Master admonished.

"But it's true," Harry cried, so much for regaining control of his emotions. "Voldemort will be after me until I or someone else kills him. I want to travel. I want to swim in the ocean, and I want to finish school just like every other kid."

"You will," Severus promised as he brought Harry's head to rest against his heart where Harry listened to the steady beating of his professor's heart, a sign of life.

"You can't guarantee that. No one can, and I've never gotten to live, to experience normal things. If I have to die, I want to know what I'm missing first," he whispered wondering if he'd ever feel truly safe. Voldemort or a Death Eater encounter was always just around the corner, and before that it was his relatives. 

"Harry, fight to survive, and I promise to help you live."

"Really?" Harry asked surprised and hopeful at the same time.

"Yes," Snape confirmed. "My parents have a beach house in the States. I'm more than sure they wouldn't mind you visiting. Doesn't that qualify for two things you listed off?"

"But you'll grow tired of me before then." It always happened. Never once had anyone kept him for a long period of time because they wanted to. Well, except for his parents, but there was no chance his mum or dad would come back from the dead. Death was final.

"I'm not going to kick you out, or ship you off somewhere," Severus promised.

"You say that now when I still feel okay. What happens when I get really sick and you get tired of taking care of me?" Harry cried, tired of empty promises. Adults always promised him things that they never followed through on like living with Sirius.

"I knew what I was getting into when I agreed for you to stay here," Snape said brushing away one of Harry's tears from his cheek. "I repeat I won't kick you out, not even if I have to carry you if you get too weak to get out of bed yourself."

"That could happen?" Harry gulped, his fear returning.

"It's likely you'll have a few days like that, yes."

"I'm going to get really sick, aren't I?" He shivered at the thought of being so sick.

"Yes," his professor confirmed.

"I...sir...I," Harry choked on his words, his voice hoarse from screaming and crying.

"Stop talking, Harry. It's okay." Harry nodded, tears continuing to slip from his eyes. The Potions Master scooped him up off his feet, carrying him back to bed. He hung on tight, not wanting to let go. Snape laid him down, but Harry refused to give up his grip on Snape's robes. "Let go."

"No," Harry shook his head.

"Just for a minute."

"I can't," Harry whispered. Snape was keeping him sane.

The Slytherin pried Harry's fingers off his robes before scooting back out of reach to take off his boots and slip off his tear-stained robes to be left in black trousers, white oxford, and black waistcoat. "Scoot over."

Surprised through his tears, Harry scooted over to allow Snape room to sit down. The Potions Master sat against the headboard, his long legs extended out in front of him. He placed a pillow on his lap, patting it. "You should be lying down."

Immediately, Harry scooted back over to his professor, laying his head on the nice fluffy pillow, facing away from Snape. He felt his comforter being pulled up around him before one of Snape's long-fingered hands started carding through his hair.

"Try to calm down now," Severus whispered. Harry let out a choked sob. No one had comforted him like this before. Mrs. Weasley after the Triwizard Tournament was close, but this was so much better. Looking back on it, she had needed comforting at the same time she was comforting him, but Snape...Severus was in control, and dare he say it, made him feel safe?

Harry cried until he was sure his tear ducts were dried out. As the last tear slid onto his pillow, Harry felt lighter. He never knew bawling his eyes out could help so much. Facing cancer didn't seem quite so daunting anymore, not as long as Snape was there to help him, like he was helping him now.

Not once while Harry cried had Snape stopped carding his fingers through Harry's hair. Even now, Severus continued the soothing motion while Harry lay still, relishing in the feeling of being taken care of and comforted. Closing his eyes, Harry memorized the warm feeling that traveled through his body, wrapping around every inch of him. He never wanted that feeling to go away.

But, Harry rarely got what he wanted. "Sir," he warned feeling bile climbing up his throat at an alarming speed. "I think..." Harry scrambled to his knees, crawling just far enough in time to vomit over the side of his bed.

Collapsing back into his previous position, Harry wondered when he started feeling so miserable. His head pounded, and he was so nauseous he was afraid to move, not to mention pain where they inserted that thing. Had he been ignoring it subconsciously, or had all of the symptoms come on suddenly?

"Harry?" Snape asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Miserable," Harry grunted, closing his eyes against the offending light. "I'm nauseous, and I have a headache...and it hurts."

"Roll over, and I'll go get you medication," Snape patted his shoulder.

"Please, don't make me move," he begged. If he had to move, he knew he'd throw up again.

"All right," Severus conceded. Harry heard Snape summon a couple pill bottles. "You need to sit up to take these."

Harry gulped. Maybe if he were quick enough he could make it? Deciding the pills were worth the risk, Harry sat up, took the pills out of Snape's hand and the glass of water out of the other, swallowed them quickly, and returned to his position just as another wave of nausea assaulted him.

"Close your eyes and relax," the Potions Master told him, his hand returning to Harry's hair. "It'll pass."

Harry did just that, not quite drifting into dreams until the medications started kicking in, and he felt like he could move without fighting back nausea. 

Severus sighed in relief as Harry finally fell asleep as the sun broke the horizon in the enchanted window. It had been a long night with Harry vomiting despite the medications and needing painkillers every few hours. He was tired, but going to sleep now when Miss Adamson was due to stop by soon was pointless, and moving risked waking Harry, the last thing Severus wished to do. So, instead he let his head fall back against the headboard intending to rest his eyes for a minute before summoning a book to read.

A soft knock on Harry's open bedroom door startled Severus enough to wake Harry. Damn.

"Sir," Harry warned half-asleep in that particular tone that Severus learned to recognize overnight.

In an instant, the Potions Master supported Harry to lean over the basin he grabbed from the nightstand just in time for Harry to vomit up a clear liquid that was mostly stomach acid since the boy hadn't eaten anything the day before. The vomit disappeared as soon as it hit the charmed basin and Severus coaxed Harry to swish a mouthful of mouthwash and spit it into the basin before he allowed the boy to sink back into bed. He cast an extra scourgify on the basin to make ensure any chemo residue vanished.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, Severus," Miss Adamson said from the doorway with a large tote slung around her shoulder.

"What time is it?" Severus blinked, his mind catching up with his awakened state.

"One," the Specialist informed him with an amused look on her face. "I'll sit with Harry if you'd like to freshen up."

"Thank you," Severus dipped his head in appreciation as he extricated himself from Harry who lay awake with dark circles under his eyes, trapping Severus' hand with his own. "I'll be back soon," he informed the child. "Relax, Miss Adamson won't do anything while I'm gone."

Harry nodded, relinquishing Severus' hand after he gave the boy a reassuring squeeze. Striding from the room, Severus felt a sense of urgency wash over him. Even though he knew the boy was in good hands, Severus felt the need to rush his shower. In less than twenty minutes, he was showered and dressed in black pants and a white oxford shirt, choosing to forgo a waistcoat in favor of comfort.

Looking into the mirror, Severus blinked at his own tired appearance. Dark circles that usually appeared after two consecutive nights without sleep were already present after one night, though usually his sleepless nights were from brewing or grading both of which were less worrisome than caring for the sick child. And the main chemo hadn't even started yet, not that Harry's body cared. The boy was already having a rough time, and since there were no known cancer cases for someone Harry's age it was impossible to predict how his magic or body would deal with the drugs compared to a Muggle. It was an ongoing experiment, not that they'd tell Harry that.

It wasn't surprising to him that Harry finally broke down, but what surprised him was how many issues the boy brought up. Severus would've never guessed the child, what everyone forgot Harry was, harbored so many issues that hadn't been dealt with. It was surprising Harry could function with that many unresolved issues at his age. Had they all failed him that much? He knew the answer was yes. Severus had felt the weight the boy carried around during Occlumency lessons, weight that surely increased since the Mutt's death and Harry's diagnosis.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He meant it when he told Albus he wasn't a shrink, but it looked like he was going to need to be, or at least something close to it to get Harry through the treatments and give the boy a chance to live. Merlin, had he really promised to help the child live if he fought to survive? The Potions Master raised his eyes back to the mirror. He looked like himself, which wasn't much to stare at with his crooked nose and premature lines dotting his face even if he felt off-center. Leave it to Harry Potter to send Severus Snape's tightly guarded mind into a swirl of emotions.

There was also the first intrathecal chemo injection to discuss with Harry. Severus expected Harry to ask sometime during the evening and night why he was already vomiting, but the boy hadn't, and so it left him with the burden of informing Harry. He refused to admit he was worried over the boy's reaction, but there was a strange feeling invading his mind. Severus hoped Harry didn't feel betrayed. The possibility could shatter the tentative trust they had built, and it would take a lot to make up for it. And as Severus was learning, Harry didn't trust easily, which would make overcoming betrayal extremely difficult and draining.

After downing a headache and pepper-up potion from the supply he kept in his bathroom in the hidden cabinet built into the wall located behind the mirror, Severus returned to Harry's bedroom to find the boy sitting up on his own accord laughing quietly as Miss Adamson changed her wand at will from Gryffindor red and gold striped to neon blue with neon orange polka dots.

"It isn't hard," Miss Adamson said demonstrating the wand movement with a pronounced flick as her wand changed to black with tiny golden snitches, "and it doesn't take much power."

"I don't know..." Harry trailed off looking at the Specialist's wand with envy.

"Try," Miss Adamson urged. "It's important to remind your magic that it's meant to cast spells, not fight your cancer."

"We haven't worked on silent casting yet," Harry said as an excuse.

Severus picked up the forgotten wand from the floor where it landed during Harry's breakdown and passed it to Harry. "Go on."

Harry practiced flicking his wand until Miss Adamson deemed it correct. "Now remember as you flick, visualize the color you want your wand to turn. Try a solid color first."

Squeezing his eyes shut as if that helped him visualize the spell, Harry flicked his wand. Severus watched Harry's wand flicker between its natural holly color and emerald green before returning to its natural color. Harry sighed as he opened his eyes to see that his wand hadn't changed.

"You almost had it," Miss Adamson encouraged.

"Try again, Harry, with you eyes open," Severus suggested. After the two spectacular failings concerning Harry's magic, he knew it would make a world of difference for Harry if he could achieve this new spell.

"Okay," the Gryffindor relented though the Potions Master could tell he didn't believe it would change anything. Harry flicked his wand again and this time the wand remained emerald green for ten seconds. "I did it!" Harry smiled, his eyes shining with light that had been absent over the last week.

"Yes," Severus nodded, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from turning upwards, "but it's well past time for you to eat something."

"Oh," Harry frowned, his hand clutching his wand though his stomach betrayed him by grumbling.

"You can practice after Miss Adamson leaves," Severus added.

"Okay," Harry agreed, the smile returning to his face.

Severus helped Harry to the table before ordering a selection of oatmeal, fruit, toast, and milk by floo hoping Harry would find something out of the simple foods to be appetizing. Then, Severus strode into the newly expanded kitchen, which contained more cabinets than before and an island. Relishing the extra room, he prepared coffee and tea to take out to the table for Miss Adamson and himself.

Their brunch had arrived when Severus sat down at the table, and he motioned for Harry to serve himself and start eating. The boy gave him an apprehensive look, but the Potions Master reached over to squeeze his hand in reassurance.

"Coffee or tea?" he asked the Specialist while pouring himself a cup of coffee with a scoop of sugar and bit of creamer added. Taking the attention off Harry would help the boy feel like his eating habits were on display.

"Black coffee, please."

Severus poured Miss Adamson a cup and handed it to her. "If you're hungry, feel free to make yourself a plate."

"No, thank you. I ate lunch before coming," she declined in between sips of her coffee.

The Potions Master took a drink of his own coffee before setting it down to retrieve Harry's medications. He walked over to the small corner cabinet and opened the sturdy wooden door with a wave of his wand where the multiple pill bottles were lined up inside with the labels facing him in alphabetical order. He found the bottles he needed along with the vitamins in the vitamin regimen that Miss Adamson had suggested that didn't interfere with the drugs or treatments. Severus put the pills and vitamins in a small clear plastic cup and set it in front of Harry after he reactivated the wards on the cabinet.

"Are all of these necessary?" Harry gulped as he stared at the cup.

"I'm afraid so, sweetie," Miss Adamson said. "Learn to swallow a few pills at a time and it won't seem as many."

Severus watched the boy swallow two pills at a time until the cup was empty while he tucked into his cinnamon apple flavored oatmeal. He couldn't expect Harry to eat if he didn't.

A few minutes later Harry pushed his bowl and plate away from him after eating a few bites. He looked a little green, so Severus banished the food from the table. "Drink your milk," Severus urged. "It'll help coat your stomach."

"Feeling nauseous already?" Miss Adamson asked.

Harry nodded before laying his head down on the table with his eyes closed, ignoring the glass of milk.

"Let's get you back to bed, and I'll give you an infusion to help, okay?" Miss Adamson stood up, calling upon a house-elf to retrieve a bag of antiemetics and a bag of saline.

------

Snape wrapped an arm around Harry's waist and together they walked back into his bedroom where Snape helped him settle into bed after casting a freshening spell on both Harry and the bed. "Thanks," Harry said when his pajamas were spelled off and replaced with a clean pair of flannel bottoms. The invisible grime was lifted off his skin and the sheets felt cool and smelled fresh like lilies with a hint of peppermint.

Watching the Potions Master release the disillusionment spell on the infusion pump that stood next to the wardrobe made Harry become nervous. The pole thing was large and intimidating with buttons and a display that must be controlled by magic because Harry saw neither cord nor outlet. Severus rolled it over to Harry's bedside as Miss Adamson walked into the room with two bags in hand. She hooked the bags onto the pole and then retreated to Harry's bathroom to wash her hands and put on gloves.

"Sir?" Harry questioned.

"Severus," the Potions Master reminded the boy.

"Severus," he corrected,  "what is she doing?"

"Washing her hands before hooking you up through your Hickman. It's really important the line doesn't become infected, and I suspect she'll also change the dressing and check it while she's here," Severus explained.

"Will it hurt?" Harry asked hopeful that for once whatever had to be done wouldn't hurt. 

"Since the area around where the Hickman is inserted is still a little sore, changing the dressing might be a bit uncomfortable, but you shouldn't experience any pain," Snape reassured him.

"Good," Harry nodded as he looked down to his newest accessory. He shivered. It was so strange seeing the tentacle like tube thing sticking out from his skin. A small pad of gauze covered the actual spot where it entered his skin, but it was surreal all the same. And why did the line split and have three endings? Did it mean he could expect to be hooked up to three things at once?

Miss Lucy returned with gloves on her hands, interrupting his thoughts. She perched on the edge of the bed. "Are you feeling anything else besides nauseous?"

"A headache," Harry shrugged. When didn't he have a headache?

"Well, the saline will help with that. You're a bit dehydrated," Miss Adamson said as Harry watched her peel off the transparent dressing that secured the endings to his body, and then held onto one ending. She uncapped it before holding a clear filled plastic syringe up to the line, flushing it before hooking it up to one of the long tubes coming from the infusion pump, and then repeating the process.

Harry was surprised at how painless the process was. It wasn't even uncomfortable nor was there a needle in sight. He could see how he might be able to get used to the Hickman if the process was always that smooth and painless compared to an IV or shot.

"There, you should feel better soon," Miss Lucy smiled, gently touching the area around his Hickman. Harry chewed on his lower lip. It didn't really hurt, but the muscles and skin were sore and as Snape had warned, it was uncomfortable. "Everything looks good. I'm going to change the dressing now. Okay, Harry? Let me know if anything hurts."

Harry nodded.

The Specialist peeled off the transparent dressing from the exit site and another small one from a spot closer up to his neck. She removed the gauze and inspected both areas for infection before gently cleaning the areas and replacing the dressings with new ones.

"You can sit back now," Miss Adamson directed as she got up to dispose her gloves and used supplies in a red container Harry hadn't noticed before in the corner by the bathroom door. "While you're hooked up for the infusions there are a few things I'd like to discuss with you before starting chemo tomorrow."

Harry looked for Snape and found him leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his body, watching from the shadows. He needed the man there to take control of the conversation in case it got too much because Harry didn't think he could handle another episode like yesterday so soon. They locked eyes and Severus dipped his head giving Harry the confirmation he needed.

Sitting in the chair beside his bed, Miss Lucy pulled out a Muggle notepad filled with notes. "As you know, you had your first intrathecal chemo injection yesterday-"

"What?" Harry cut the Specialist off, his anger rising. It was the first time he had heard about any such injection.

"Harry, calm down," Snape said striding over to Harry's bedside.

"No! You said you'd listen to my opinions!" he accused, slamming his fist down into the mattress. Snape promised not to be like everyone else!

"I'll just wait outside," Miss Adamson excused herself.

"Listen to me," Snape said, his tone calm and even. "I didn't mean to exclude you from the decision. Miss Adamson brought up the suggestion after we'd already given you the conscious sedation drugs."

"So I agreed, but I don't remember it?" Harry asked, letting go of some of his anger. He didn't remember much of anything from his time spent in the Hospital Wing the day before and if he had agreed then he couldn't be angry with Snape.

"No, I didn't wish to ask you while you under the influence of the drugs. When I informed Miss Adamson I had the IV started, she asked for my consent to give you your first intrathecal injection since you were already undergoing conscious sedation for the Hickman procedure," Severus explained perching on the edge of Harry's bed.

"That's why I've been throwing up?" Harry pieced together the new information.

"Yes," the Slytherin confessed.

"Why didn't you ask me, or at least tell me after I woke up?" he asked, his voice cracking. Had he made the wrong decision? Was putting Snape in charge of his medical decisions a wrong choice?

"There wasn't time, Harry," Snape sighed squeezing his forearm. "As much as I wish to inform you of every decision before I make it, there are going to be times when I have to make a decision without your input. You have to trust that I'll do what's best for you."

"And starting the chemo injections early was best for me?" Harry ripped his arm away from his professor.

"Yes. It was either allow Miss Adamson to do the injection then when it was doubtful you'd feel any pain or wait when you weren't under conscious sedation with the possibility that the experience would be painful for you."

"I didn't feel any pain?" Harry asked.

"No," Severus confirmed. "You slept through the entire injection procedure."

"Why didn't you tell me last night?" he accused. There were plenty of times Snape could've brought it up.

"Do you think you could've handled it last night?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Harry relented his anger subsiding, "but I hate being kept in the dark."

"I know. That wasn't my intention," Snape said pulling Harry against his side and rubbing his shoulder.

Harry scanned his professor's face, searching for any trace of a lie, not that he'd be able to detect one on Snape's face of all people. But upon a closer look, there was something different in Snape's expression like he was less guarded than usual, and Harry saw a flash of genuineness in those endless pools of obsidian.

"Okay," Harry gave in.

"Thank you," Snape ruffled his hair as he stood up. "I'll get Miss Adamson, so she can go over the precautions we'll need to be sure to take."

Harry nodded liking the sound of we versus you. 

Harry adjusted his pillows so he could recline against them while Snape retrieved Miss Adamson. He was tired, but for the first time in hours his nausea and headache were fading. It was strange to see the clear liquids flow into him through the tubes and not feel anything. He wondered if it would be the same when they hooked him up to the chemo.

Pulling up his blanket, Harry relished in the warmth it brought and sighed in contentment. Despite somewhat accepting his newest accessory, Harry didn't like looking at his bare chest. He was too thin and bony, unattractive. He had noticed his clothes were looser than normal, but it wasn't until the shopping trip when he looked into the full-length mirror that Harry noticed how thin he let himself become. No doubt some of it was from his cancer, but a large part was his own fault. After the Ministry incident, he didn't feel like eating most days and pushed himself to just make it through the end of term.

He shivered and pulled the blanket closer as he realized it was likely he'd lose even more weight. Much more and he'd be blown off his Firebolt with a strong wind, not that it mattered. Harry wouldn't be flying anytime soon. He could see why it wouldn't be safe, but he missed the wind blowing in his face already. Flying made him feel free, like nothing could rein him in, but for now he'd have to stay tethered to the ground by the infusion pump.

"Feeling better yet?" Miss Adamson asked while she walked in and sat in the chair pulled up beside his bed.

"Yes, thank you," Harry answered. Severus perched on the edge of his bed, which was becoming his spot. Harry cracked a smile as his professor squeezed his knee, reinforcing that they were in this together.

"Good," she smiled setting her Muggle notepad onto her knees. "Remember how chemotherapy drugs kill not only cancer cells, but good cells, too?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, when the good cells are killed off they leave you unable to fight off infections or normal illnesses like the common cold as well as you normally would, so there are some precautions you'll need to take to help prevent you from catching anything," Miss Adamson explained as she pulled a few things out of her large tote bag.

"I know I can't fly, but what else do you mean?" Harry asked, curious to what she meant by precautions. Would they be drastic, or simple things that wouldn't change his upside down world even more?

"Nothing too drastic," the Specialist reassured, "I dare say you might even enjoy one of them from what Poppy has told me."

Now Harry was interested. Was it possible his chemo treatments would actually benefit him somehow?

"You're right when you said you won't be able to fly. As much as I've heard how well you can fly, it's too risky. You could fall and injure yourself, which could cause your treatment schedule to be pushed back, and we want to avoid that as much as we can." Miss Adamson reached into her tote bag and pulled out something that she kept hidden in her fist, a sly look upon her face. "However, that doesn't mean you have to let your seeker skills suffer too much. Hold out your hand."

Harry held out his left hand. She couldn't have in her hand what he thought she did. It was impossible. Nobody gave him gifts just because, but as cold metal hit his palm his smile grew. The Specialist withdrew her hand leaving a restful golden snitch sitting in his hand. He tightened his fingers around the snitch before it decided to wake up and fly away.

"It's a practice snitch," she explained. "It can be charmed to stay within designated dimensions, and of course can be turned on and off as a Muggle would say. The instructions are on this scroll here." Miss Adamson set a small scroll on his nightstand.

He had a golden snitch; the same practice snitch used by professional teams and wasn't sold in stores! Harry couldn't wait to tell Ron, but his smile fell as he remembered the last time he saw his friends. His fist loosened against the waking snitch, and the tiny golden ball slipped through his fingers and fluttered off. Harry reached up, but it was too late; the snitch zoomed out of his reach.

The little golden ball flew around the room catching Flurry's attention. Harry watched the cat chase after the snitch as she jumped in the air and tried to bat it down with her paw without success. It fluttered near the ground as if knowing the tiny cat was after it and wished to tease her. The snitch stopped five feet from Flurry and the little ball of fluff paused, ready to pounce.

As Flurry pounced a second later, the snitch flew straight up towards the ceiling out of the tiny cat's range. Harry laughed. Flurry meowed in protest and turned to look at him. She glared as if to say you couldn't do any better. Then, she sat down to groom herself, pretending she was no longer interested in the flying little ball. He shook his head; Flurry was something else. Even Crookshanks, as crazy as that cat was, didn't have a tenth of Flurry's personality. 

Catching the glint of gold out of the corner of his eye, Harry turned to watch as the snitch passed by Snape. He saw the man's hand snatch the golden snitch out of the air in the blink of an eye. His jaw dropped. Who knew that Snape of all people had the reflexes of a seasoned seeker?

Spelling the snitch off, the Potions Master handed the practice snitch back to Harry. "Put it away," his professor ordered.

Speechless, Harry mumbled a yes, sir before sliding open the drawer on his nightstand and depositing the practice snitch and scroll into the small drawer. He turned his attention back to Miss Adamson, waiting for her to continue.

"That was quite exciting!" Miss Adamson exclaimed as she picked up the pouting Flurry off the ground, placing the tiny cat in her lap to console her. "I didn't know you had a Feles Felices, Severus. They are quite rare."

"Not many know I have Flurry," Snape warned. Harry smirked as he held back his laughter. The man was so defensive over people knowing about his cat. Though Harry had to admit if most people knew about Flurry, it would be a lot harder for Snape to be taken seriously as Hogwart's resident dungeon bat.

"Point taken," the Specialist nodded, continuing to pet a purring Flurry. "Now, as we were discussing, precautions. As your immune system will become compromised, it's important that you wash your hands often especially after using the loo, before eating, and after playing with Flurry. A scourgify would work as well. Remember to wash your hands and lower arms for at least thirty seconds using a liquid soap and dry your hands with what Muggles call paper towels or a wandless drying spell."

Miss Adamson pointed to two of the things she had pulled out of her bag. "I brought one of each to get you started. Others wishing to visit should follow the same procedures. They should also wash their hands when they arrive."

"There's a sink in the entrance chamber," Snape added.

"Excellent. It's also very important that any sick person, or anyone who has come into contact with a sick person delays their visit until they're better," Miss Adamson stated.

Harry nodded, the precautions made sense. "What about school? Professor Snape mentioned I wouldn't be able to attend classes at the beginning of term."

"Yes, that's correct," she reached out to squeeze his hand. "It's likely your blood counts won't be consistently high enough to attend classes until you reach the maintenance stage of your treatment plan. I wouldn't expect you to return to classes until after the Christmas holidays at the earliest, and when you do return it'll likely be shortened days at first."

"Oh," Harry frowned. As much as he hated getting up some mornings to attend classes, it would be weird to not be in class with his friends, especially for a whole term. He thought he'd be out for a few weeks or a month. Could he really not attend one class all term and stay caught up? Harry doubted it was possible. He'd never be able to do it, but with Snape maybe there was a small chance to complete all his coursework. Harry hoped Snape was good at more than Potions because he'll need the help, as he was never one to be able to learn by just reading something.

"Severus, have you spoken to the Headmaster concerning Harry's educational needs yet?"

"I've brought it up, but it was not a formal acknowledgement," Snape stated. "I plan to ask Harry's professors to start sending his coursework this summer, so his workload is spaced out over time."

"A smart idea, but remember the Wizarding world has laws requiring accommodations to be made concerning children who are too sick to attend classes," Miss Adamson reminded the Professor. "It would be in Harry's best interest to have the paperwork filed in case the Ministry or anyone else tried to interfere."

Like Umbridge, Harry shivered at the thought of the Ministry plant, his left hand covering his right where the scars from her numerous detentions lay.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, not understanding the wizarding education laws. Did it mean he could be expelled for missing so many classes? It wouldn't surprise him if that happened since it seemed that every year he was in danger of being expelled.

"It means that with the proper paperwork filed, a teacher cannot refuse to send or grade your coursework, and that they must grade you according to your restrictions or limitations at the time," Miss Adamson explained. "For example, because of your compromised immune system, you won't be able to brew potions or even prepare ingredients because of the germs and diseases that some ingredients carry. Therefore, it wouldn't be fair if Professor Snape based fifty percent of your grade on practicals."

"I can't brew potions," Harry perked up. Private Potions lessons with Snape was not something Harry had been looking forward to. He had a hard enough time with the man watching his cauldron in class and couldn't imagine how much worse it would be with the Potions Master's attention focused solely on him.

"No. That might prove a hard sacrifice considering your area of expertise, Severus, but I'm sure with your knowledge you can develop a lesson plan for Harry based on theory that'll enable him to be caught up with his peers once he's cleared to brew again."

Harry turned to look at his professor. The man looked flabbergasted and somewhat lost. It wasn't a good look on Snape at all. "I forgot the potential hazards that some ingredients carry," Snape trailed off. Harry wondered what the big deal was. It wasn't like Severus was the one being banned from brewing.

"Along the same lines, make sure not to handle any reptiles including snakes, and I'd keep contact with your owl to a minimum, especially during low blood counts," Miss Adamson warned.

"But Flurry is fine?" Harry asked taking the tiny cat out of Miss Adamson's lap and setting her on his lap to pet.

"Yes, but it would be best not to allow her on your bed," the Specialist answered.

"Oh," Harry frowned, picking up Flurry to set her down.

"She's fine for today," Miss Adamson held up her hand to stop him. "Just be sure to change your bedding before tomorrow. Your counts haven't been affected by the chemo yet."

"Okay," Harry returned Flurry to his lap wondering how they'd accomplish keeping Flurry from jumping up onto his bed. He was growing quite used to having the fluffy fur ball sleep curled up beside him.

"Not only will you be susceptible to catching something, but when your blood counts are low enough, especially your platelets, your blood won't clot normally. You'll have to be careful not to cut yourself and if you do, tell Severus, Poppy, or I right away," Miss Adamson said seriously. "From time to time, you'll receive blood and platelet transfusions to help with your counts, but you'll still need to be careful. I'd suggest that you two take some time to charm the knives to be resistant to human skin as a simple precaution that'll pay off in the end."

"We will," Snape confirmed.

Harry felt like a baby being told the knives needed to be charmed for his benefit. He hadn't cut himself with a knife since he was little! However, the other part of him knew how easy it was for a knife to slip and if it meant he had to feel a little childish in order to prevent a potential setback then he'd deal with it. At least someone cared enough to take the precaution. The Dursleys would've never agreed to that simple suggestion, even if they had magic. Uncle Vernon would sharpen all the knives instead, probably the forks somehow, too.

"Good," Miss Adamson smiled while she reached back into her tote and brought out a large scroll. "I have the medication and chemo schedule written out in detail on this scroll for you to stick up," she said to his professor.

"Thank you," Snape said taking the scroll from the Specialist.

"Would you like to go over it, Harry?" she asked him. "Some teens like to know exactly what to expect a month ahead and others like to take it day by day."

Harry thought about it. It might be nice to know what to expect for the following month, but if it was detailed that meant it likely listed every single pill and what time he needed to take it. It would be a lot if the morning's pill distribution was anything to go by, and that was enough to overwhelm him. He also didn't know if he could handle that much right now. Harry was still feeling the effects from yesterday and didn't want a repeat performance of that, ever.

"I think day by day," Harry answered, his voice tentative and unsure.

"Harry, if at anytime you wish to know, we'll go over it, okay? I'm going to stick it up in the hall a little past your door so if you don't want to look, you don't have to," Harry felt Severus place his hand over Harry's trembling one that rested on Flurry.

He nodded, thankful for the option to change his mind at anytime.

"I've found it helps to develop a schedule so that everyone knows what to expect, and there's less anxiety stressing over the little things," Miss Adamson suggested.

"I have a tentative one already written," Snape answered.

"Excellent," the Specialist sprang to sit up straight, looking as if she was holding back from clapping her hands in excitement. "Harry, you don't realize how well Professor Snape is prepared to get you through the treatments."

Harry nodded, but he did know. Without Snape, he'd be locked in his cupboard at the Dursleys without hope of receiving treatment or having to hire a taxi to take him to his treatments. Even if Sirius were alive, Harry knew he wouldn't be taken care of as well. Sirius loved him, but as much as it hurt Harry to admit, the man would be more likely to encourage him to bend the rules though he wasn't going to think about Sirius anymore. It hurt too much.

"Harry?" Severus asked with a hard squeeze to his hand.

"Huh?" Harry jumped, his eyes snapping up to look at his professor.

"I asked if ten is an agreeable time for Miss Adamson to come to start your chemo," Snape repeated without a hint of malice that he usually used when made to repeat something because a student wasn't paying attention.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. He didn't have an opinion one way or another.

"I have one test to perform before taking my leave. It shouldn't take long as I'm sure you're growing sick of my presence," Miss Adamson smiled a knowing smile that left no hint of resentment. Harry figured the Specialist was used to not being wanted around long by her patients. After all, her presence usually meant bad news.

"Okay," Harry said, hoping this exam was pain free. He had enough pain to last him years, but he knew it was only the beginning.

"When was the last time you had your eyes checked?" she asked, startling Harry by her question.

"I don't remember," he lied. Harry didn't want to admit the one and only time his Aunt Petunia had bothered to have his eyes checked was after one of his primary school teachers sent a note home requesting Harry see an optometrist after noticing how much he tried to get closer to the blackboard, even from the front row.

"Take off your glasses for me then, sweetie," Miss Adamson gave Harry a reassuring smile. "I need to record your prescription now to compare to your prescription after treatment ends. There's a small chance the chemo may affect your sight by requiring a stronger prescription. Have you ever had your eyes tested the magical way?"

Harry shook his head as he took his glasses off revealing a blurry world. He didn't know if it was possible for his eyes to worsen and wondered if he'd even notice a change.

"All right then. There's nothing to worry about. Look here," the Specialist guided his chin to look at her lighted wand. Harry trapped Snape's hand between his own. He didn't have much faith in the smallest procedure to not be painful at the moment. "I'm going to perform a spell on your eyes one at a time. You'll feel a slight tingle that might tickle, but try to keep your eye open. When your vision clears, raise your hand. Close your left eye. We'll do the right one first."

Harry closed his left eye and felt a magical pulse-like tingle as his vision cleared in steps until he could see clearly out of his eye without glasses for the first time in his memory. He almost forgot to raise his hand he was so shocked! It was clearer than seeing through his glasses.

Miss Adamson chuckled and a second later his vision became blurry once again. Harry wanted to pout and demand she repeat the spell, but somehow make it permanent. It was amazing to see the smallest of details without squinting or being up close. He switched eyes, and she repeated the spell giving Harry a few more seconds of complete clarity.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" the Specialist said as Harry squinted to be able to make out Miss Adamson waving her wand over his glasses. "You were long overdue to have your eyes checked. Now, put on your glasses."

Harry felt his glasses pressed into his hand, and he slid them onto his face. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to reveal a clearer world, almost as clear as when she had the spell on his eyes. "Thanks!" he smiled, looking around the room to spot the small print he couldn't read before, but now could.

"You're welcome. Now, lie back, and I'll unhook you," the Specialist motioned as she crossed the room to his bathroom to wash her hands again.

------

After watching Miss Adamson unhook Harry and flush each lumen of his Hickman, Severus led the Specialist out of Harry's room as the boy was fighting sleep, his fatigue hitting him full force once he laid back. "Would you like a cup of tea or coffee before you go?" he offered to be polite.

"No thank you. I really must get back to St. Mungo's, but I have a few things that I didn't go over with Harry that I thought you could as it became appropriate," Miss Adamson set her large tote bag down.

"Of course," Severus replied knowing it was best to not address everything at once. Mentally, Harry was recovering from yesterday's breakdown, and they needed to treat his fragile mental state delicately for a few days.

He watched her pull out a large transparent plastic bag that he identified as a Ziploc bag from his visits with his parents. It was filled with toothbrushes, mouthwash, and individually wrapped pink spongy things. "Here's an oral care package. There are instructions inside if you need them."

Severus nodded. He knew before the Specialist brought it up that he'd need to talk to Harry about appropriate oral care while undergoing chemotherapy.

"There are a few other things in here like a box of sugar-free freeze pops the kids love and a bag of sour candy for when the IV meds or chemo leave a taste in his mouth, but I also included a few boxes of supplies to care for his Hickman and a journal to keep track of his side effects, temp, weight, etc," she listed off as she peered in the tote. "Let me know when you need more supplies."

"Thank you, I'll be sure to let you know at least a day in advance."

"Don't mention it. I need to get back to check on my other kids, so I'll see you and Harry at ten tomorrow morning."

"Ten it is," Severus said with finality as he escorted Miss Adamson to the floo. Ten marked Harry's official entrance into treatment, leading to crashing blood and platelet counts in order to kill the cancer cells, a world where those counts ruled their lives for the next few months. 

"Professor?" Harry asked, leaning against the wall at the entrance to the hallway an hour later.

"Yes?" Severus questioned looking Harry up and down. The boy had thrown one of his school jumpers on, and he was startled to see how much it hung off his frame. If Severus didn't know how unreliable Harry's magic had been, he'd question the boy if he'd been applying glamours before attending classes daily. Instead, Severus wondered how many layers Harry had been wearing under his jumper because robes could only hide so much. 

"Um...I..." Harry stumbled on his words under Severus' scrutiny.

"Can't sleep?" he assumed.

Harry shook his head as he teetered between retreating to his room and stepping out into the sitting room.

"Why don't you start on your summer assignments? You need to finish those before we can start you on your Sixth Year coursework," Severus suggested knowing it was something Harry could do while lounging around, and would likely lead the child to sleep. He was torn between coaxing Harry to get as much sleep before starting chemo as possible and trying to keep Harry awake so he was more likely to sleep through a larger portion of the first day of chemo. However, no matter what Severus suggested it would depend on Harry's body cooperating or not cooperating, so he decided to let things happen as they happened and not stress Harry over it.

The boy shrugged.

Severus motioned for Harry to join him in the sitting room. Now that Harry felt a little better and they were alone, it wasn't surprising to Severus that the boy reverted to being somewhat uncertain and withdrawn as the fog that came with feeling bad cleared, and Harry remembered the full extent of his breakdown and Severus' role in comforting him.

"Would you rather read?" Severus asked remembering that he'd been meaning to show the boy his library. "I can show you to the library and you can pick out some books that interest you."

"Okay," Harry agreed quietly, his eyes downcast as he stood before the old beat-up sofa, his hands tugging on the stretched out sleeves of his faded jumper.

"Come," Severus motioned standing up and directing Harry to the nook where the table sat.

"Sir?" the child questioned, looking up at him with those haunted green eyes of his. "Is this some kind of joke?" Harry gestured to the smooth stonewalls.

Severus took a step back, breaking eye contact with the child. Those eyes were too much like Lily's, haunted and jaded like the last time he had seen those emerald gems a few days before her death.

"Harry, it's not a joke," the Potions Master reassured the boy as he placed his hand on the angular shoulder. The boy flinched under his touch. Severus let his hand fall back to his side, careful not to overstep his bounds.

"Sorry sir," Harry apologized as he wrapped his arms around himself, a distinct sign of self-comforting.

"It's Severus," he reminded the boy, "and you have nothing to apologize for."

"I didn't mean to cry all over you and keep you up all night," the teen whispered, his face blushing in embarrassment. "It won't happen again."

"Harry," Severus sighed wondering just how much he hadn't seen in their Occlumency lessons concerning Harry's Muggle relatives as he wrapped his arm around the fragile teen, coaxing him to rest his head against his chest with his other hand.

"I know you didn't sign up for this, sir," Harry protested pushing away from Severus' hold. "I can manage at my relatives, really."

"Stay still," he ordered, letting a hint of sternness lace his tone to keep the boy in place.

Harry stopped fighting and leaned against him. Severus felt the boy tremble and a minute later heard a sob escape, muffled by his chest.

"There will be no such talk about returning to your relatives," Severus held Harry tighter. "You are staying," he dropped his voice to a whisper. "You're safe here, Harry."

A louder sob escaped Harry as he burrowed his head into Severus' shoulder. The Potions Master held the boy upright, raking his long fingers through the unruly mop of hair that would begin to fall out soon.

"I'm sorry," Harry cried in between sobs.

"Whatever for, child?" Severus questioned.

"For being weak," the boy admitted.

Anger rose inside Severus. Who and what made the child think he was weak? He stiffened and a second later Harry stiffened along with him. Severus cursed himself, fighting his fiery temper and forcing himself to relax.

"Who told you that you were weak?" Severus asked, his hand cupping Harry's chin to force the boy to look up at him.

"Uncle Vernon. Only weak boys cry," Harry spewed the line that made Severus believe there was more than neglect in Harry's past.

"You are not weak," he stated with finality, forcing himself to retain eye contact with those emerald pools filled with hurt. "You will forget whatever those blasted relatives made you believe. Real men cry, and I won't have you apologizing for it."

Harry turned his head, gulping as he tried to fight back his tears.

"Let it out, child," Severus coaxed, giving the boy permission to break down again if he needed to.

"It's too much too fast," Harry cried burrowing his head into Severus' chest.

"I know," Severus lamented, rubbing gentle circles across the boy's skeletal back.

"If we could just go a bit slower," the child requested, his voice hoarse and filled with grief.

"I wish we could, but we can't delay your treatments any longer, Harry," Severus apologized. He didn't want the child to know how serious it was that they started the chemo as soon as possible. Harry's form of leukemia was aggressive and in the Muggle world most started treatment within a day or two of the diagnosis. They had to get Harry into remission as soon as possible, and time was ticking since they had to wait for all the potions to get out of his system before starting chemo. Without treatment, the child would be dead within a matter of months.

Harry nodded against his chest, his tears pooling on Severus' shirt. Severus held the child for as long as Harry needed, letting the boy rest there after his tears stopped falling.

"The library?" Harry sniffled pushing away from him with red-eyes and a flushed face a quarter of an hour later. Severus handed the boy a handkerchief from his pocket. "Thank you," Harry took the white embroidered hanky and blotted his eyes dry before blowing his nose.

The Potions Master nodded, banishing the handkerchief to the laundry when Harry was finished and scourgified the boy's hands clean. "The library," he stated, ignoring the boy's disheveled state, "is up the stairs through this wall. Watch."

Severus strode over to the wall on the right side of the nook where a wall sconce hung. The stone was carved into a Cupid, complete with wings. He poked the Cupid's left eye with his finger. The stone eye pushed in followed by a click to reveal an open archway to a set of spiral stairs.

"This way," Severus said as he waved his hand for Harry to go first so he could make sure the unsteady boy wouldn't tumble down the steep steps. "Use the handrail," he ordered when Harry started his ascent and almost tripped over the first step making Severus' heart jump into his throat.

------

Finally reaching the top of the spiral staircase, Harry was dizzy and out of breath as he slumped into the closest chair and rested his head in his arms on top of the large wooden table. "How many flights was that?" he panted.

"Quite a few," Snape answered as Harry heard a glass being set down beside him. "We're at the lower levels of Gryffindor Tower below the common room and dorms."

Below Gryffindor Tower! He'd been living above Snape all these years! His head shot up, looking at Snape for the slightest sign that he was lying.

"I assure you the walls are too thick for me to hear how you and your housemates plan my demise," Snape said, his lips curling up into the slightest smile.

Had Snape of all people just cracked a joke? Harry's jaw dropped. He didn't think it was possible for the Slytherin to joke about anything, much less about others planning his death.

"Drink," Snape ordered gesturing towards the glass of water.

Speechless, Harry's hand wrapped around the glass and brought it to his lips to drink. The cool liquid slid down his throat invitingly, helping him to catch his breath and overcome his shock.

"Now perhaps you'd like to find a few books?" the Potions Master asked, moving to Harry's side, a tentative arm sliding around Harry's shoulder.

Harry brushed Snape off as he stood up, grabbing onto the table until the dizziness passed and his legs felt like they could support him. As much as it felt nice for Snape to let him cry all over him, it was also awkward and Harry couldn't get past Uncle Vernon's voice echoing in his head that only weak boys cried.

"I'm fine," he insisted when his professor's hand shadowed over his shoulder.

"Very well," Snape conceded though he made no move to back away from Harry.

Looking around Harry was surprised to see so many windows in the circular library. One section of the walls was devoid of shelves and books, featuring a fireplace and large windows that allowed natural light to shine through casting a soft glow over the entire library, the perfect amount of light for reading. The rest of the walls were covered floor to ceiling in shelves lined with books of all colors and size. The shelves reached up two stories with a catwalk making a horseshoe to stop at each side by the windows with a wooden ladder allowing access up to the catwalk.

The enormous amount of books screamed Snape, but Harry hadn't pictured the man having such a bright and inviting library. Hell, Harry would rather spend time in Snape's library over Hogwart's gloomy library any day. A sofa was angled towards the fireplace and Harry imagined that to be a cozy place to curl up and read or just relax on a cold winter day while watching flurries blanket Hogwart's grounds.

"Wow," Harry breathed, excited to be in a library for the first time in his life.

"Novels are over there organized by author," Severus pointed to a section of the wall to his left. "I assume that's what you wish to read?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, "Thank you." Forcing himself to look away from the windows where the view was nearly identical from the window in his dorm, he shuffled over to the section of the wall dedicated to novels.

Harry skimmed the shelves, reading spine after spine, but not knowing where to start. Muggle authors such as Shakespeare and Tolstoy jumped out at him as recognizable from his primary schools days and Dudley's complaints over summer homework. Right next to Tolstoy was a thick and worn book, though tome may have been more appropriate. Strange markings that appeared to be some sort of strange language marked the spine at the top and bottom in gold inlay. Harry pulled the book out, intrigued.

"A good choice," Snape commented from behind Harry, scaring him into nearly dropping the book and having to juggle it to keep it from hitting the floor.

"Could you please stop doing that?" Harry requested, tired of the man sneaking up on him, intentional or not.

Severus nodded. "Old habits die hard," his professor stated referring to his spying days. "That one is one of my favorites."

Harry returned the book to the shelf. There was no way he'd enjoy one of Severus' favorite books. It was probably full of words he didn't understand with a boring plot, not to mention how thick it was. He'd never finish it before term started, and maybe not even before the calendar year ended. 

Sighing, Harry continued to peruse the books, his eyes returning to that intriguing large book with the gold inlay every few minutes until he pulled out a shorter novel that not only had he heard of, but wished to read ever since primary school when Dudley had torn apart the copy Harry borrowed from the school library. Of course no one believed it wasn't Harry's fault the book was ruined, so he had to serve detention with the librarian for a week on top of the extra chores Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia made him do because they had to pay to replace the book.

"Have you found one?" Snape asked from the table where he had complied a stack of books himself.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, hugging the book to his chest to make sure no one could take away Charlie and the Chocolate Factory from him again.

"Good, you may return at any time to find books to read. I only ask that you handle them with care, and put them away in the same place that you took them from," Snape said gathering his stack of books into his arms. "Until you're through with chemo, I'd also like you to refrain from using the ladder to get up to the catwalk. If you need a book from there, please allow me to retrieve it for you."

"Okay," Harry agreed as he followed his professor from the library, descending the stairs with one hand on the railing and the other clutching the book close to his body. It was a lot easier on the way down, and Harry managed to make it without feeling dizzy or out of breath though he still needed to search out a place to sit before long.

Deciding to spend the rest of his afternoon reading, Harry continued walking towards the hall intending to return to his room. He was a bit cold, and it would be great to stretch out on his bed to allow his tired muscles to rest while he lost himself in the childish tale.

"Harry," Snape called to him, stopping his trek towards his room.

"Yes?" Harry asked, turning to face the Potions Master.

"You don't have to stay in your room," Snape remarked. "These are your quarters for the foreseeable future, and you should make yourself at home."

"Oh," Harry was dumbfounded. Snape didn't mind him roaming around his private quarters as he wished? He thought the man expected him to stay in his room for the most part. Why else would he be allowed such a large room? "I'm cold," Harry came up with as an excuse, only half-lying. Subconsciously, he couldn't help but wonder if it was some kind of trick. Uncle Vernon used to invite him to sit on the sofa when he was little while he was watching the telly only to push him off and comment that freaks weren't allowed on the furniture.

"I think it's about time I rearranged the furniture," Snape commented as he took out his wand and levitated the sofa to sit in front of the fireplace that no longer housed a floo connection.

Harry watched in confusion as the Potions Master moved the coffee table in front of the couch and angled the two chairs towards the sofa before starting a fire. What did rearranging the furniture have anything to do with him?

"Come get comfortable on the sofa. You can read out here," Snape suggested though Harry knew it was a silent command.

"Uh, okay," he walked awkwardly over to the beat-up sofa and sat down before his courage left him. He slipped off his slippers and stretched out across the length of the soft cushions hoping that was what Snape meant by getting comfortable.

To his surprise, the Potions Master grabbed the large throw blanket from the back of the sofa and settled it over him. "Relax," Severus ordered, "I'll be in the kitchen. Call if you need anything."

Harry blinked at the strange and awkward scene taking place before him as his professor retreated to the kitchen. Did he somehow enter the Twilight Zone? Even at the Weasleys or Grimmauld Place, Harry had never felt comfortable enough to just sprawl out across the sofa.

Shrugging, Harry cracked open his book, unable to keep himself from diving into the story any longer. Maybe he'd become more comfortable the longer he lay there reading. Severus all but ordered him to, and Harry found that Snape had given him worse orders before. This one Harry could even grow to like.

-----

After adding the last ingredients to the various soups he was cooking to freeze for later, Severus poured two glasses of apple juice and took them into the sitting room while the soups simmered. He had purposely vacated the sitting room after sensing Harry's discomfort at the idea of lounging out in the sitting room. Severus refused to have the boy think he belonged holed up in his room. Harry's reaction gave him more evidence to believe there was more to the boy's past than any of them had ever guessed. Severus wouldn't let the subject go forever, but asking the boy to speak of the abusive treatment by his Muggle relatives was too much to ask of him right now. Mentally, Harry was too fragile to withstand such a conversation.

Rounding the sofa, Severus wasn't surprised to find Harry dozing with a trail of drool sliding down his chin, book propped up as a tent for Flurry across his chest. The boy hadn't made so much as a peep for the last hour. Picking up the book, Severus reached for a spare bit of parchment to mark Harry's place and placed it on the coffee table before slipping Harry's glasses from his eyes and setting them on top of the book.

"What are we going to do with you?" the Potions Master asked Flurry as he picked her up and settled her into his lap from his spot in a chair opposite the sofa.

"Meow," Flurry voiced and Severus swore he heard a questioning inflection in her meow.

"You can't sleep in Harry's bed," he stated, wondering if he was going crazy for talking to the cat like she understood him. If only there were a way she could understand him. He didn't want to punish the cat for something that would normally be okay, and there wasn't a potion that allowed a wizard to communicate with animals, no charm either.

But of course!

Severus scolded himself for not thinking of it sooner. He returned Flurry to Harry's chest before striding through the door to the entrance chamber. Taking a pinch of floo powder, Severus threw it down before sticking his head into the green flames while calling out for Minerva's quarters.

"Minerva," Severus called hoping the witch was in her quarters. He knew she stayed a few days after term ended to take care of some Deputy Headmistress duties before holidaying for a couple weeks to visit family.

"Severus," the witch greeted him as she came into view. "Is something wrong with Harry?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

"No, though I do require your help," he felt awkward asking his old Transfiguration professor for help on a personal matter. It made him feel like he was fourteen all over again.

"Of course. Do you need me to sit with Harry?" Minerva moved around the room, collecting paperwork into a pile.

"You may see him, but I need your help with my cat," Severus admitted.

"Your cat?" Minerva questioned, stopping in the middle of the room.

"Flurry has taken a liking to sleeping in Harry's bed," he explained, "and she won't be able to because of his treatments."

"And you don't wish to scold her," Minerva assumed giving Severus a knowing smile. "I'll be right down. I have Harry's final grades that I've been meaning to give to him anyway. Just let me get the envelope."

He nodded before withdrawing his head from the flames and stood up to wait for his colleague. Minerva flooed in a few minutes later, Harry's envelope in her hand.

"Severus, why is there a sink by your floo and was that a sterilization charm I felt when I stepped out of your floo?" she asked.

"Harry's treatments cause his immune system to become suppressed," Severus stated gesturing to the sink. "If you'd wash your hands before entering my quarters proper, please."

"Oh dear, of course," Minerva tucked the envelope into her robes and then washed her hands in the sink following the diagram Severus posted to instruct on proper hand-washing technique.

"Thank you," Severus led the Transfigurations professor into his sitting room. "Harry's sleeping," he warned.

Minerva nodded. "Where's Flurry?"

He pointed to the tiny fluff ball curled up on Harry's chest.

She picked up the cat and set her on the floor. Then, she blurred into her Animagus form leaving a tabby cat in her place. Minerva gestured with her paws in a humanlike fashion like she did when she lectured students while Flurry sat at attention in front of the larger cat.

Severus wished Harry were awake to see it. It was quite amusing and would be sure to bring a smile to the boy's face if not a laugh, but he didn't risk waking Harry. The child was sleeping peacefully and from the slight upturn of his lips, it appeared he was having a pleasant dream.

"Meow," Minerva meowed sternly while stomping her front paw. Flurry hung her head in rejection. The larger cat stepped forward and licked the smaller cat's head, nuzzling the white fur ball against her to console the little monster.

A few minutes later, Flurry jumped back up onto the sofa and Minerva shifted back. "Poor cat feels a little dejected even though she understands why she can't sleep in Harry's bed any longer."

"Thank you, Minerva," Severus said, waving her to sit down.

"It wasn't a problem, Severus. Just make sure to give Flurry a bit of extra attention. She remembers him," she said as an afterthought.

"I thought she would," he sighed, refusing to think back to the night Lily died.

"Professor McGonagall?" Harry questioned with a yawn, stretching as he woke up. "What are you doing here?"

"I have your grades for you," she pulled out the envelope from her robes and levitated it towards her student.

"Oh, I forgot about that," Harry sat up and snatched the envelope out of the air in front of him on his third try. He blushed as he slid his glasses onto his face. Setting the envelope on top of his book, he smiled at the glass of apple juice and took a small sip.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Severus questioned. The child's grades would be a good indication of his O.W.L. scores, and it was important Harry decided which subjects he was qualified for and wished to pursue at the N.E.W.T. level, so they could start to plan Harry's course load for the next year.

"Maybe later," Harry shrugged.

Severus nodded, choosing not to push the boy. He'd had enough to deal with over the last day.

"Do you need me to pick anything up for you?" Minerva questioned Harry. "I have to pick up a few things in Diagon Alley for the upcoming school year tomorrow, and I could pick up anything you need while I'm there."

"Um..." Harry looked at him clearly uncomfortable. Severus nodded.

"My quills are pretty shabby," Harry admitted, "and Professor Snape said he'd talk to you and the other professors about getting my work early, so a few new quills would be nice."

"I'll bring them by within a day or so," Minerva smiled. "Let me know if you need anything, either of you," she turned to look at him.

"Thank you," Severus said for both her offer and helping with Flurry.

"I need to be going. There's so much paperwork to complete and file before I can feel like it's summer," Minerva stated rising from her chair. "I'll see you soon, Harry. Don't give Professor Snape too hard of a time," she winked.

Severus rolled his eyes and escorted the Gryffindor to the floo before returning to Harry and proposing that they eat dinner before taking a leisurely walk around the grounds. It might be Harry's last chance to enjoy the outdoors for a while, and Severus wanted to give Harry one more opportunity to savor a cool summer night while the grounds were in bloom because flowers and plants were on the list of things to avoid, too, and it might take Harry's mind off starting chemo in the morning. 

Severus woke up bright and early, quickly readying for the day. He tiptoed down the hallway until he came to Harry's bedroom door. It was cracked open just enough for Severus to peer in and see that the boy was sound asleep, his right arm hanging off the side of the bed. Satisfied, the Slytherin continued his quiet trek down the hallway and into the kitchen to prepare breakfast with Flurry trailing behind him.

The talk with Minerva must've worked because the little fur ball had followed Severus to bed last night, reclaiming the extra pillow he kept on his bed just for her. Severus cracked open a can of cat food and dished it out into a small bowl before placing it on the floor next to the water bowl that was charmed to refill itself at the end of the counter, preventing Flurry from starting her morning protest.

With the cat taken care of, Severus turned the magical coffee maker on before opening up the cabinets, one after another in search of what he wished to cook for breakfast. He had sent out a house-elf for the basics, but hadn't wished to fully replenish his stocks without Harry's input.

Each day that passed with the boy in his quarters served to show just how much Severus didn't know about the boy that he thought he had. It frustrated him because Harry was turning into an unpredictable puzzle that changed every time Severus thought he was making progress. He didn't even know something as simple as what the boy liked to eat. Everything the Slytherin gave Harry to eat, he ate a few bites of before pushing it away.

Sighing, Severus pulled out the carton of eggs to make scrambled eggs. They were simple and easy to eat in terms of digestion, a plus for Harry. He cast a scourgify over the stove, pan, and egg carton as an extra precaution before washing his hands and starting to prepare breakfast. As he was tending to the eggs to cook, Severus shuffled through his mind for ideas of what to serve with eggs besides the usual boring toast, something that might appeal to Harry. He had bananas, strawberries, and yogurt, but the child hadn't seemed to favor either food or any food for that matter. Yet, the boy continued to drain his glasses of juice. Perhaps that was something Severus could work with.

A fruit smoothie!

Severus, himself, hated the texture of smoothies and milkshakes no matter how many times his mother tried to get him to like them, but it might be just the thing to combine Harry's apparent like of fruit juices with something that held a considerable amount of calories.

He flicked his wand towards the eggs to ensure they didn't burn. They weren't his number one priority anymore since Harry wouldn't likely eat them anyway, and he was never a breakfast eater.

The Potions Master was never happier his mother insisted he have a blender for her rare visits, and forced him to learn how to make the smoothies she adored so much as he pulled out the magical blender. With another flick, the eggs were done, and Severus was able to turn his attention to making Harry a smoothie.

Taking out the bananas and strawberries, Severus washed the strawberries before casting another scourgify, a spell he was learning he'd be using numerous times a day, aimed at the island and the blender and fruit lying on top of it. The chopping and slicing of fruit soothed Severus. It was the same motions that went into making potions, and he'd gone too long without brewing. He refused to hole up in his lab and leave Harry alone. The child was too unstable, too hurt by others shoving too much onto his shoulders over the years.

The Potions Master turned smoothie maker poured the bananas and strawberries into the blender before casting a silencing charm. With the press of a button, the blender roared to life blending the fruit until it was smooth. Then, Severus added yogurt, ice, and milk to the mix and turned the blender on again until he achieved the perfect thickness. He poured the completed smoothie into a glass charmed to stay cold before placing the pitcher into the charmed cold cabinet for later. After levitating breakfast to the table and canceling his silencing charm, Severus' task was finished, and it was time to wake Harry. 

Opening the door, Severus found Harry curled up facing the wall with the covers thrown halfway off. He strode over to the bed, perching on the edge. He placed the back of his hand against Harry's forehead to check for fever. The boy pressed his head against his hand, but his forehead didn't give any indication of an increased fever. A flick of his wand confirmed Harry's slightly elevated temperature caused by his leukemia that Severus hoped would be taken care of by the chemo later that day.

"Harry," Severus gently shook the boy's shoulder.

"Tired...go away," Harry mumbled as he pulled his pillow on top of his head.

"Time to get up, breakfast is ready," he tried to tempt the boy while taking his pillow away.

"Not hungry. Wake me up after Potions."

Severus smirked. Harry must think he was Mr. Weasley, and he was in his dorm on a school day. "Harry, it's Severus, and you can sleep later."

"In Potions?" the child mumbled, clearly more asleep than awake if he was assuming Severus just gave him permission to sleep during Potions.

"Yes, you can sleep during Potions," Severus answered not being able to resist.

"Okay," Harry smiled, his eyes cracking open as he stretched. "Professor?" the boy's eyes went wide and he froze. "I thought-"

"I know," Severus mused, handing Harry his glasses. "Wash your hands, and come to the table. Breakfast is ready."

At Harry's nod, the Slytherin left Harry's room and washed his own hands in the kitchen sink before sitting down at the table. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and savored the warm caffeine-filled liquid as it slid down his throat. Severus had acquired the taste for coffee during the summer he spent learning Muggle medical techniques and had never tried to break the addiction.

"Good morning," he greeted Harry properly as the child took his place at the table.

"Good morning," Harry yawned. So maybe the boy wasn't as up as Severus thought him to be. "What's this?" the Gryffindor motioned towards his glass.

"A smoothie," Severus answered.

"A what?" he asked as he scrutinized the drink as if he'd never seen a smoothie before though with the clues Harry kept leaving, it was quite possible that even though he was Muggle raised, he'd never seen or drank a smoothie before.

"It's strawberries, bananas, yogurt, and milk blended together. A smoothie is similar to a milkshake. Try it."

Harry took a small experimental sip before taking a much larger drink. "This is delicious," he smiled. "Thank you."

Severus nodded, a small, satisfied grin crossing his face for a split second. "If you drink a few of those a day, it'll help supplement the calories you're missing by not eating proper meals. Smoothies can be made using any kind of fruit, so you'll just have to let me know what fruits you'd like to try."

"This is fine," Harry insisted, fidgeting in his seat.

"Harry," Severus forced himself not to sigh. "I've been meaning to ask you what foods you like, so I can make a list to send a house-elf to the market with. While you're here, it's my job to ensure you eat properly, and I wish to do that by preparing foods you like."

"I'll eat anything," the child protested, uncomfortable with the idea.

Severus reached over to squeeze Harry's hand that he had resting on the table. "I'm sure you'll eat anything, but I want to cook things you like, Harry. Can you let me do that?"

"It won't be any trouble?" Harry asked, his eyes downcast.

"No, I'll make sure our meals are nutritious, but within that frame I'll incorporate what you like and don't like," Severus explained. It was important for Harry to get all the nutrients he needed, but there were many ways for that to happen, and the last thing he wished to do was have Harry attempting to eat food he didn't like to begin with, never mind how the chemo might affect his taste buds.

"Okay," the boy agreed.

"Good, we'll discuss it later." Severus poured Harry a glass of water before fetching his morning pills. "Take these, and then try to eat some eggs and finish your smoothie. Miss Adamson should be here in an hour and a half, and I think you'd like to shower before then."

"Oh, right," Harry sighed as he reached for the cup filled with pills.

"It'll be okay," Severus reassured the boy, hating how quick the child went from smiling over being given a smoothie to showing symptoms that could very well develop into depression.

------

After showering, Harry felt refreshed even if he wasn't allowed to have the water as hot as he liked, and Snape had to help him use a Ziploc bag to ensure his Hickman didn't get wet. The warm water pouring down onto him had felt great as he washed away the grime from his skin. He dressed in a pair of blue and green flannel pajama pants, a black tank, and a navy hoodie. Severus had reminded him to dress comfortably, which furthered his anxiety.

Harry was scared about the coming week. Every test and procedure he'd endured so far lasted an hour or so, but this round of chemo lasted the whole week, and he'd be hooked up to the infusion pump for twenty-three hours each day. He shivered at the thought, wrapping his open hoodie around him.

Stepping up to the mirror, Harry ran a comb through his hair, not that it helped any. He sighed and ran his fingers through his unruly mop of hair instead. A few pieces of raven hair latched onto his fingers, not anymore than normal, but Harry wondered when his hair would start to fall out, and if it would just fall out overnight or slowly over a period of time. As much as he cursed his hair for not staying neat, he'd miss having hair to help hide his scar.

With a sigh, Harry tried to flatten his hair over his scar before picking up his toothbrush to brush his teeth. Voldemort hadn't sent him a vision since the Ministry incident, and Harry knew it was bound to happen again soon. Voldemort wouldn't leave him alone for too long, especially if he got wind of how sick he was. Harry hoped Voldemort never found out because he couldn't deal with the madman while battling cancer.

"Harry, are you almost finished?" Snape asked from the other side of his bathroom door, breaking up his thoughts.

"I'll be right out," he called after spitting out the toothpaste into the sink. Harry quickly finished up in the bathroom before retreating into his bedroom where Severus was smoothing down his bedcovers, his clean bedcovers.

There was a new pale green silk blanket, or as Hermione would correct him duvet, with pale blue sheets spread across his bed. Was that what Snape picked out for him when they were in the store? His bed looked so inviting, and Harry never imagined anyone providing such luxurious items for him. At the Dursleys Harry was happy to receive Dudley's old comforter so he had something warmer than a thread-barren blanket to cover up with.

"You didn't have to change my bed for me," Harry commented, feeling uncomfortable with the quality of the linens and having someone else change his bed for him. He had been changing his own bed since he was old enough to lift the thin mattress' corners in his cupboard. In his dorm, Harry knew the house-elves changed the beds, but the linens were always the same, so he never thought about it.

"Flurry was up on your bed yesterday. Remember?" Severus asked as he situated the numerous pillows on the bed. Harry blinked. There had been two pillows there when he woke up, but now he counted six.

"I could've done it," Harry said, hoping Snape wasn't mad at him for not changing the bed himself.

"Miss Adamson should be here any minute," the Potions Master reminded him, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny.

Harry shifted from side to side before walking over to his professor and taking the last pillow from his hands to place on the bed. "I can do it."

Severus placed a hand on his shoulder, nudging him to turn around. He gulped as he spun around, his professor a foot in front of him towering over his small frame.

"Harry, I never intended for you to change your bed this morning. You're not in trouble," Snape said squeezing his shoulder.

"I'm not?" Harry asked, surprised. He never expected Snape of all people to clean for him, especially when he could do it himself.

"No. Why don't you go grab your book and smoothie? You may want something to read later," Severus suggested, turning the conversation back to something Harry was comfortable with.

Harry nodded, slipping away from Snape with relief. He was still trying to figure out the man's expectations of him and his duties so the Potions Master didn't throw him out. Even though Snape said he wouldn't, Harry didn't believe the man. Adults never stood by their word. Sirius promised Harry could live with him, but that never got further than words. Every year he was forced to return to the Dursleys, until Sirius died, making the possibility of living with his godfather forever impossible.

Tears threatened to form at the thought of Sirius, but Harry held them back. He refused to cry three days in a row. He wasn't weak.

Instead, Harry turned his attention to his smoothie sitting on the table. It was still chilled, and Severus must've refilled it for him because it was filled to the top again. Cracking a small smile, Harry took a sip of his smoothie while he went into the sitting room to pick up his borrowed book before returning to his room.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said as he set down his smoothie and book on the nightstand.

"It's Severus," Severus reminded him again.

It felt strange and unnatural to refer to his professor by his first name after the man insisted Harry call him sir or professor during Occlumency lessons. Harry knew it would take time before Snape had to stop correcting him and for calling him Severus to become natural.

"Thank you, Severus," he corrected, jumping up onto his bed.

He was right about the bedcovers. The duvet was smooth, and the cotton sheets were softer than normal cotton. They smelled wonderful, too, like fresh picked lilies. There was also a light blue chenille blanket folded at the foot of his bed that he hadn't noticed before.

A warm feeling filled him. Severus had picked out the luxurious linens and made the bed, complete with freshening charm for him, Harry, the boy who only had hand-me down worn out linens for his whole life. Harry brought the duvet up to his nose, smelling the lingering scent of fresh lilies. It felt wonderful to have someone care enough to purchase brand new linens just for him. He never wanted that feeling to go away, but the arrival of the Specialist sent his nerves into overdrive, overshadowing the warm feeling he had found contentment in.

"Good morning," Miss Adamson greeted them with a knock on his doorframe, a large hard-sided case slung over her shoulder and a stack of envelopes in her hand.

"Good morning," Harry said. It was really going to happen; he was going to get chemo dripped into his cancer-stricken body. He hugged his knees to his chest as he eyed the large case. Was the chemo in there? Is that why the case was hard-sided?

"Here's the post, Severus. It was sitting outside the floo," Miss Adamson handed Severus the stack of envelopes.

"Thank you," the Potions Master said, sending the stack out of the room with a flick of his wand.

"Ready to get started, sweetie?" Miss Adamson asked him, setting the case down on the floor.

Harry gulped. How was he supposed to answer that question? Of course, he didn't want that poison flowing into his body, but he had to if he wanted to live.

"How are you feeling this morning?" she moved on, flicking her wand over his body in a motion that Harry recognized as denoting a general scan.

"Okay," he shrugged.

"No more throwing up or feeling nauseous?" the Specialist withdrew a quill and wrote down a few things on his chart.

Harry shook his head.

"Good. Lie back and take off your top for me," she requested. "I'll change the dressing and make sure the area around your Hickman is healing, and then you can put your tank top back on before I hook you up, okay?"

He looked towards Severus, his hands starting to tremble, as the Specialist left to wash her hands, and the Potions Master walked around to the other side of the bed where he sat down and pulled Harry into a side hug. "It'll be okay," Snape reassured him. "Miss Adamson will have to draw some blood, and give you a Benadryl and anti-nausea drip before hooking up the chemo. Try to relax."

Harry nodded though he didn't know how it was possible to relax. If anything he was growing more anxious with each second that ticked by. He pulled off his hoodie and tank top before Severus helped him settle back into the pillows.

Returning with gloved hands, Miss Adamson made quick work of checking his Hickman and changing the dressing. "A day or two more and the dressing can be changed every three days instead of every day," she noted. "Is it a little sore still?"

"A little," Harry agreed. He hardly acknowledged the slight ache in his chest, but reaching for things in the shower had hurt a bit.

"Good, and your back and hip?"

Harry shook his head. Either the pain in his lower back was too dull to feel with his high pain tolerance built up from Voldemort's mental attacks or there wasn't any pain to feel.

"How's your appetite?" she asked as she dictated to the quill set to write for her on her clipboard as Harry felt a tingling from the disk on his bracelet, a sign Harry figured out meant that the medical records stored in the disk on his bracelet were being updated as well.

"We discovered smoothies this morning," Severus answered for him.

"Wonderful," Miss Adamson smiled. "I'll bring a few samples of protein powder for you to add into the smoothies to help with Harry's protein intake."

Harry saw Severus nod as Miss Adamson waved her wand over the large case to open it. She levitated a few empty vials out of it along with a weird plastic thing wrapped up in some kind of protective wrapping. "I need to collect a few vials of blood to start with, so just relax. This won't hurt a bit."

Nodding, Harry watched as the Specialist rubbed one of the Hickman endings with an alcohol wipe before attaching the weird plastic thing to the end. She released the small clamp from the tube, and a moment later blood started flowing into the vial set into the weird plastic thing. She replaced the vial when it was filled with another one until all her vials were full, and she flushed the line before levitating two bags up to his infusion pump and connecting him up to them.

Harry was surprised how smooth the blood draw was. Miss Adamson had been right. He hadn't felt a thing, which was so much better than having his arm poked.

"I hooked you up to a Benadryl and anti-emetic drips. The first is in case your body reacts with the chemo, and it might make you sleepy. The anti-emetic drip is what I gave you yesterday. The hope is that by giving it to you before your chemo you won't feel nauseous during it," the Specialist explained. "While those drip into your system, I need to floo back to St. Mungo's, so a few tests can be run on your blood and the chemo can be mixed. I'll be back in about an hour." With a nod from Harry, Miss Adamson departed.

"Are you okay?" Severus asked. "That was quick."

"Yeah," Harry yawned, sliding down into bed. "I just want the chemo to start and get it over with."

"That's understandable," he said with a lazy wave of his hand.

Harry felt his tank top press against his skin, and he smiled up at his professor. He had forgotten about his tank top along with Miss Adamson. "Thanks, Severus."

"You're welcome," Severus helped Harry lay down without getting the tubes twisted around him.

He clapped five times to turn on his mural. The rolling waves soothed him as he stared at the wall while the medications dripped into his system, and he waited for the chemo to start.

Harry drifted in and out not quite asleep, but not fully awake until Miss Adamson returned. Trying to force his eyes to stay open only made him more tired as he tried to watch the Specialist hang the chemo bag through half-lidded eyes.

"Don't fight it," Severus whispered running a hand through his hair. "It's okay to sleep."

Taking Severus' words as permission, Harry drifted off to sleep just as the first drops of intravenous chemo trickled into his body. 

Harry opened his eyes a few hours later feeling nauseous. He was afraid to move because if he did, he'd vomit. A slight pulsing pain had started at his scar as well. Snapping his eyes shut, Harry willed himself to fall back asleep, but the faint rhythmic beeping echoing throughout the room interrupted the soothing rumbling of waves. To make things worse, the pulsing in his head seemed to be in sync with the beeping. Harry slowly moved his hand to cover the ear that wasn't pressed into his pillow, anything to stop listening to that annoying beeping.

"How are you feeling?" Severus' smooth voice asked in a whisper.

He groaned, not trusting his voice. Harry felt Snape take his free hand that had been extended out in front of him.

"Squeeze my hand for yes," his professor instructed. "Are you feeling nauseous?"

Harry squeezed Snape's hand glad his professor wasn't forcing him to talk.

"Do you have a headache?" Another light squeeze. "Is it your scar?" Harry squeezed Severus' hand again. "If you sit up, I have some Tylenol that may help with your headache. Miss Adamson should be returning to check on you any minute, and she can try to address your nausea."

Snape's words were too much to process as he tried to fight off his nausea. Harry bolted upright as Severus thrust the basin into his hands. He threw up into the basin, his entire meager breakfast coming up as waves of nausea coursed through him, giving him a moment in between each wave to breathe before another caused him to heave until all that was left to throw up was stomach acid.

The entire time Severus rubbed his back and steadied the basin for him. Harry stayed hunched over the basin until he was sure he wasn't going to throw up anymore. The episode exhausted him, and Harry felt like he was going to collapse if he sat up any longer.

"Better?" Snape handed him a cup filled with mouthwash.

"A little," Harry said before swishing the mouthwash around and spitting it out into the basin. He thanked Merlin for whoever thought of charming basins to vanish the contents as soon as they hit the bottom because Harry didn't think he could handle seeing his vomit without gagging.

"Good," the Potions Master took the basin from him before placing two white pills into his palm. "Take that Tylenol, and if it doesn't help your headache I have stronger pain medications I can give you."

Harry reached for the glass of water Severus poured and used the water to chase down the Tylenol. "Thank you," Harry croaked, his throat feeling icky even after the mouthwash and drink of water.

"You don't need to thank me. Would you like to lie back down?" his professor asked.

Nodding, Harry felt the cleansing breeze of a gentle scourgify on his skin while he scooted back down into bed, lying on his side so he could face Snape. He was exhausted, but his brain was too active for sleep. Harry smiled as Severus pulled his sheets and duvet up around his shoulder.

A moment later his professor placed a cold flannel on his forehead. The cool cloth felt wonderful against his pulsating scar. The beeping was still there, but it didn't grate against his ears any longer. Flexing his left hand revealed the source of the beeping. The plastic stat reader thing had been attached to his index finger. Harry looked in front of him to see three lines running from the infusion pump to him. One hanging bag had bright yellow stickers on it. The writing was too blurry for Harry to read, and he didn't feel like reaching for his glasses.

"Is that the chemo?" Harry asked.

"What is?" Severus asked looking to see what Harry was referring to.

"The bag with the yellow stickers," he pointed to the almost empty bag.

"Yes, Miss Adamson will be bringing the next bag soon."

"What are the other two?" Harry didn't know why he wanted to know, but supposed it was only natural to want to know what was being pumped into his body.

"One is saline to keep you hydrated, and the other is anti-emetics that are apparently not working as they should," Severus explained. "Do you still feel nauseous?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted, "but it's not as bad as before." It was true. He still felt queasy, but not like he was going to throw up if he moved too fast.

"Do you feel like you could drink something?"

Harry nodded. "Not a smoothie though." The thought of something as thick as a smoothie sliding down his throat was enough to make his shudder. He was sure anything other than simple liquid would wind up coming right back up.

"Grape or cherry?" Severus asked with his hand held out, waiting on Harry's answer.

"Grape," Harry answered wondering what kind of drink Snape was referring to.

A large purple bottle came flying into Harry's room. He watched the Potions Master through his blurry vision pour the purple liquid into a cup before closing up the bottle and sending it back to the kitchen.

"It's called Pedialyte," Snape said. "It'll help keep your electrolytes up. Miss Adamson brought it by this morning in case you started vomiting."

Harry sat up and took the glass. He took a small sip and nearly spit it back out into the glass, but he forced himself to swallow the sip down. "That's horrible," Harry handed the glass back to Snape. "Can I just have water?"

"Yes," Severus banished the glass with Pedialyte and handed him his glass filled with water back.

"Thank you." Harry took a few long drinks to get the horrible taste of Pedialyte out of his mouth before setting it onto the nightstand.

"How are we doing this afternoon?" Miss Adamson greeted as she strolled into his room donning a mask, gown, and gloves with a bag decorated with yellow stickers in her hands.

"Not too good," Harry answered as he watched her hang the new chemo bag and connect him to it.

"Are the anti-emetics not working?" Miss Adamson threw the gloves, gown, and mask into the red trashcan.

"No," Harry shook his head.

"I'll up the dosage a bit, and if that doesn't work we'll try a different kind after this dosage, okay?" the Specialist said, noting a few things on his chart. "Besides the nausea and vomiting, how is everything else?"

"A headache, but it's my scar, so I don't think it's related."

"We'll keep an eye on your headache. I trust you've taken some Tylenol?" Miss Adamson waved her wand over him to cast a few scans.

"Yeah, it's helped some," Harry stated.

"Good. Everything looks normal so far, and I'll be back with the next chemo bag, but in the meantime try to eat something," Miss Adamson moved to the infusion pump and pressed a few buttons. "If anything worsens, don't hesitate to floo call me."

Harry nodded and as quick as she came, Miss Adamson was gone.

"That was strange," Harry commented over her quick departure.

"She has many patients to tend to," Severus answered. "Would you like something to eat?"

"No," Harry answered starting to suddenly feel suffocated by people fussing over him. He wasn't used to it, and as much as he appreciated it, he needed a break from people asking him questions. "Can I be alone for a bit?"

"Of course," Snape halfway snapped, standing up from the straight-backed chair. "I'll be in the sitting room if you need me."

Harry felt horrible. He didn't mean to offend the Potions Master. The man had done so much for him in the past week, and he'd hate to have Snape think he didn't appreciate it.

"Wait!" Harry called Snape back.

"Yes?" the Potions Master turned back around.

"I'm not good at this," Harry admitted. "No one has ever sat by me while I was sick and I'm not used to people asking me questions about how I am all the time." Well besides Hermione's constant questioning and nagging when Harry refused to go the Hospital Wing or Dumbledore's office after a vision. That was different. It was related to the war, not just Harry himself.

Severus sighed as he sat down on the edge of his bed. "Harry, I'm not good at this either. We need to figure how this will work for us together, so if I'm asking too many questions let me know," Snape ran his hand through Harry's hair. He leaned into Severus' hand.

"Okay," Harry agreed. "You're asking too many questions. I can ask for things myself if I need them."

Severus nodded. "One last question. Would you like me to stay, or do you need a few minutes alone?"

Harry flip-flopped over wanting a few moments to himself and the fear of being alone while the chemo dripped into him. He shuddered. No, he really didn't want to be alone.

"Stay, please," Harry whispered.

"All right. I'll just busy myself with a book then," Severus returned to the straight-backed chair and picked up a book from the floor beside it.

Carefully rolling over so he didn't tangle up the tubes, Harry curled up into a ball facing the wall. That was close enough to being alone as he let his tired eyes drop close, trying to feel the chemo enter his body. He willed the chemo to kill off his leukemia, finding it hard to believe the poisonous substance was being pumped into his body. It felt surreal, yet the nausea and vomiting proved it was real. Harry, instead of learning how to fight Voldemort, was undergoing treatment for cancer.

A tear escaped his closed eyelids, trickling down his cheek and onto the luxurious bedding. Harry wondered if he'd ever be normal or have normal things happen to him instead of the near impossible.

The chemo had to work, or he'd never have a chance at normalcy. He couldn't let his leukemia win, but Harry felt like there was nothing he could do to help fight the battle. The chemo dripped into him by a machine. There was no magic he could use to blast the cancer cells into oblivion. For the first time in his life Harry felt utterly helpless. Even during his younger years at the Dursleys he always had himself. He could do his chores faster or learn to avoid his relatives better, but there wasn't anything he could do now besides let the chemo work its own type of torturous magic and hope it worked.

-----

Meanwhile, a disheveled Molly Weasley stormed out of the floo into Albus Dumbledore's office. "Where is he?" she looked around the room, searching for the boy in question.

"Where is who?" Albus asked as he stood up from behind his desk.

"Harry, of course!" Molly started marching towards the door. "Is he with Professor Snape as Ron has implied?"

"Molly, sit down," Albus gestured to a chair in front of his desk.

"No, you cannot expect me to sit here after what my son finally told me after hiding in his room since he came home!" Molly continued to the door and wrapped her hand around the door handle, but found it locked.

"What did young Mr. Weasley tell you?" Albus leaned against his desk, crossing his hands in front of him. His face held no emotion as he again motioned for Molly to take a seat. "I assure you Harry is safe with Severus."

"Safe?" Molly exclaimed throwing her hands up in the air. "The child has that horrible Muggle disease! He could die Albus, and you claim he's safe with Severus? He isn't safe with anyone!"

"Molly, please, take a seat," Albus said, twirling his wand in his hand. Huffing, Molly sat down like a wrongly accused schoolgirl. "Lemon drop?"

"No thank you," she glared, shooting daggers at the Headmaster with her eyes.

"There seems to have been a miscommunication. Harry is indeed with Severus, but he's receiving lessons from Severus in order to help with defeating Voldemort," Albus smiled at Molly and let out a small chuckle. "I don't know where the rumor started, but Harry doesn't have cancer."

"But Ron said Madame Pomfrey told him, and she doesn't lie, Albus," Molly accused.

"Ah, that's where the rumor must've started," Albus said as he popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "There was a little scare, but it turns out Harry's blood tests got mixed up with another's at St. Mungo's. He's recovering from magical depletion, but otherwise he's completely healthy."

"Then you'll have no objection if I go down to see Harry myself," Molly smiled slyly as she got up from the chair.

"I'm sorry, but I can't allow that. Severus and Harry are deep into an intensive Occlumency lesson and Severus asked that I make sure no one disturbed them," Albus shrugged. "I'll have Severus bring Harry to the Order meeting tomorrow."

"You're hiding something," Molly stated with a frown.

Albus narrowed his eyes, displeased with Molly's reluctance to believe him. The Headmaster had to stop the knowledge of Harry's cancer from spreading. It needed to be kept under wraps so the news didn't travel to Voldemort and his entire plan fell apart.

With speed that belied his years, Albus pointed his wand at Molly. "Obliviate," he murmured before she had a chance to block his spell. Dumbledore worked with the spell to erase her suspicions, and implant the idea that she had seen a healthy Harry during a lesson with Severus.

The witch blinked before standing up from the chair. "Tell Severus thank you for allowing me to interrupt their lesson. I'll be sure to tell Ron and Hermione about the blood test mishap at St. Mungo's," Molly walked over to the floo with a smile. "They'll be so relieved."

"Have a wonderful day," Albus smiled as he nodded to the departing Order member. Once the floo swept the reassured witch away, the Headmaster relaxed, sinking into one of his cushy armchairs.

Fawkes trilled disapprovingly at him, but Albus ignored the phoenix. His plan was safe for now and that was all that mattered.

-----

Peering over his book, Severus saw Harry's breathing finally deepen. He quietly set his book down before standing up to stretch his legs. Severus tiptoed around the bed so he could do a quick check of Harry's temperature by laying the back of his hand against the child's forehead. It felt cooler and a swish of his wand confirmed that the child's temperature was finally back to normal. The chemo had started working. Severus pulled the duvet up around Harry's shoulders before walking back around the bed to get to Harry's chart where he scribbled down the change in temperature.

After setting a charm to alert Severus when Harry woke, the Potions Master exited the room. He was starving, but he hadn't wanted to eat in front of Harry when the boy was vomiting and feeling nauseous. In the kitchen, he made himself a sandwich and leaned against the island while he ate it and looked over the post.

The Daily Prophet was wrapped around a stack of envelopes and Severus opened it up on the island to skim the nonsense the wizarding newspaper tried to pass off as news. He wasn't really reading it, not anymore than he had been reading his book, which he had stayed on the same page for twenty minutes, reading the same paragraph ten times before giving up trying to comprehend the words printed on the page.

Harry was continually on his mind. The child was suffering, and even he, the cold-hearted dungeon bat, couldn't stay unaffected. The chemo treatments were already taking their toll on Harry's system. He knew there was only three approved anti-emetic drugs for use on wizarding children. If the current one continued to fail in stopping Harry's nausea, there were only two left to try, and both of those had far less success rates in dealing with chemotherapy induced nausea and vomiting.

Not only was it important to try to manage the side effects for Harry's comfort, but more importantly the boy couldn't afford to lose any more weight. Miss Adamson was keeping a close eye on Harry's weight in case it dropped further because if it dipped too low, she'd have to intervene, and both of them didn't want that to happen. Severus had hoped that since Harry started his prednisone course along with his chemo that morning that the steroids would've triggered the child's appetite, but any appetite he might have was lost due to his nausea.

Severus took a deep, cleansing breath as he closed his eyes. His occlumency shields that he held up continuously were weakened from his lack of sleep and the child wedging his way past Severus' outer shields. He took a few moments to center himself in his mind and strengthen his shields so he didn't feel so exposed. After so many years of having to maintain the layered set of shields with all his emotions tucked away safely behind them, he felt naked and vulnerable when his shields were weakened.

Moments later, Severus opened his eyes feeling calmer and more relaxed despite the chemotherapy dripping into the child down the hallway. Everything was back in its place in his mind, and that alone helped Severus cope more than anything else. He had to stay strong for the child because he was all the child had. The Weasleys may count Harry as one of their own, but Severus was in charge of Harry's medical decisions now, and it was up to him to make the best choices for Harry, not the supposed savior of the wizarding world.

There were also Occlumency lessons to consider. The boy was vulnerable against a mental attack from the Dark Lord without being able to shield his mind. The Dark Lord's possession over Harry at the Ministry proved just how much Occlumency lessons needed to continue, but Severus was weary over bringing up the subject with the child. Their previous lessons had been a disaster of epic proportions on both their parts. Severus needed to take a gentle approach with Harry and the boy had to be willing to learn. It was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord attacked Harry through their strange connection again, and Severus knew time was running out. The Dark Lord never stayed quiet for long.

Sighing, Severus flipped through the remaining post. There were two letters for Harry that he recognized were from Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley from their handwriting. He set them aside to screen for upsetting content later. The last thing Harry needed was distressing news or research from his friends, and he had a feeling he'd be writing to Miss Granger personally instead of delivering her letter to Harry. The know-it-all most likely had loads of research by now detailing how rare cancer was in wizarding children and that Harry's case was the only documented case in a child older than four, information that Harry didn't need to hear.

One more letter sat atop the island. It was addressed to him as Severus Prince, which wasn't all that strange considering Snape was somewhat of an alias. He had taken the name when he was sent to live with his aunt and uncle. His father had insisted Severus was better off with an unknown surname than being known as the Prince heir as whispers of the first war started spreading. His parents had created quite the scandal in the aristocratic pureblood society by gallivanting off to the States and not behaving like proper purebloods. It hurt the Princes standing in society and his parents didn't want him to suffer for their choices.

Severus turned the envelope over and recognized the seal of Wizarding Child Services. He'd been expecting a copy of the medical proxy forms, but they wouldn't be addressed to him as Severus Prince. What else could WCS be sending him? Draco had dropped a few hints that he didn't wish to follow in his father's footsteps, but anything involving his godchild would come to him as Severus Snape, and he hadn't heard from Draco since term ended.

But before the Potions Master could break the seal, a soft buzzing alerted him that Harry was awake. Severus dropped the letter back onto the island and strode down the hallway to Harry's room. The boy was bent over the basin when Severus entered vomiting once again, and Severus seated himself next to the boy. He helped Harry hold the basin steady with one hand while rubbing his back with the other in what was becoming routine.

"Make it stop, please," Harry begged, his voice no louder than a whisper as he collapsed into Severus' lap.

"I'm sorry," Severus cradled the child against his chest. "I can floo Miss Adamson and have her bring a different anti-emetic now, and we can try that."

"Please," Harry nodded.

"Very well, will you be okay for a few minutes?" Severus asked as he helped Harry lie back down.

"Yeah, can you dim the lights a bit more?" Harry asked.

Severus waved his hand to lower the lights. "Is your headache worse?"

"The pulsing is more intense. It's like Voldemort is reminding me he's there, but he's not in my mind," Harry reached up to rub his scar.

"Try not to do that, Harry," he took the boy's wrist and pulled his hand away from his inflamed scar. Severus dipped a clean flannel into a cold bowl of water and rung it out before placing it on Harry's forehead. "Does that help?"

"Yeah," the boy closed his eyes. "Can you go floo Miss Adamson now?"

"Of course," the Potions Master stood giving Harry a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. "Call if you need anything."

"I will."

Severus hurried through his chambers to the floo. He threw down the sparkly floo powder before calling out his destination and sticking his head into the green flames.

"Severus, is something wrong?" Miss Adamson looked up from her desk in her office.

"The increased dosage hasn't worked. Harry asked me to have you bring the other anti-emetic you mentioned earlier," Severus stated, wishing to rush the floo call. The increased pain in Harry's scar worried him, and he didn't want to leave the child alone longer than necessary in case the pain grew or turned into a mental attack or vision.

"I'll be right there," the Specialist stood from her chair behind her large wooden desk. "Let me grab what I need and tell Harry to hold on for me."

The Potions Master didn't so much as nod before withdrawing from the floo. He stood and brushed his clothes off, feeling a sharp burning erupt from his left forearm.

Not now. Severus cursed as he clutched his left forearm. The burning felt like it was searing his skin off as the snake of his Dark Mark slithered in anger. He needed to retrieve the special cream he developed from his bathroom that would help dull the pain, but the screaming coming from Harry's room meant his needs were secondary to the child's.

"Professor!" Harry yelled. "Voldemort...he's... my scar!" 

Half-way staggering into Harry's room as he focused on blocking out the searing pain from his Dark Mark, Severus' eyes widened at the sight of the screaming child. Harry lay curled up into the tightest ball possible, his hands clawing at his scar. He had heard of the mental link between Harry and the Dark Lord, but Severus had never seen the connection at work. It was terrifying to see the child in so much pain.

"Help," Harry forced out between screams, his voice desperate and pained.

Rushing over to Harry's bedside, Severus climbed right into the middle of the bed. He lifted Harry up into his arms, careful of the tubes connected to him by his Hickman because no matter what was happening with the Dark Lord, the chemotherapy needed to continue to drip into Harry's fragile body.

"Look at me," Severus demanded as he situated the boy in his lap, pinning Harry's arms to his sides. "Don't break eye contact."

Harry nodded, and Severus hesitated before entering the child's mind as gently as possible, hoping the whole time that Harry didn't feel violated by his actions.

It was clear to Severus the moment he sunk into Harry's mind that the Dark Lord was present. He could feel the dark, poisonous presence of his former master, the same presence that had been inflicted upon his own mind more times than he could count. Severus had to expel the Dark Lord from Harry's mind before the madman harmed the child, but first Severus had to hide Harry away.

"Don't fight me," he whispered to the small child that sat in the middle of the dark, circular stage that either Harry or the Dark Lord had conjured. The Dark Lord's presence swirled around the circle like a frightening black twister at lightening fast speeds. The small child looked five rather than fifteen and he had his arms wrapped around his knobby knees, rocking back and forth.

"Trust me," Severus' glowing wisp extended out to the child. Harry latched onto the wisp and they sunk through the floor, flying past layer after layer until they reached the innermost part of Harry's mind.

"Is the monster gone?" the small child asked him as Severus' wisp set the boy down on a sandy beach, much like the one depicted on Harry's mural.

"No, but as long as you stay here, you'll be safe," he told the boy, his wisp creating a gentle breeze which wrapped around the child and ruffled his hair. "Can you do that for me?"

"Can I build sandcastles?" Harry asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Yes, make a big sandcastle for me to see when I return," Severus conjured up a collection of plastic buckets and shovels. "Promise me you'll stay here."

"I promise! I've never built a sandcastle before! I'll make one just for you, the monster slayer," the small child reached for a bright green bucket and blue shovel.

"Good, I'll return soon," Severus promised the boy as his glowing wisp ascended back up through Harry's mind until he was back at the circular platform surrounded by the Dark Lord.

"Ah, Severus," the black mass taunted him, "my little traitor. How appropriate it is that you should be protecting the boy."

"Leave," he threatened, his wisp glowing brighter.

"Why would I want to do that when I could destroy both of you at the same time?" he cackled.

The Dark Lord closed in on Severus' wisp, but he was ready. Entangling his wisp with the Dark Lord's, Severus battled the man for control of Harry's mind. He darted in, out, and through the madman's black mass, breaking up the twister and infuriating the Dark Lord more and more. Severus wasn't a master Occlumens for nothing, and even the strange stage set in Harry's mind didn't faze him.

"Go," Severus demanded, his wisp growing as he gained more control of Harry's mind.

"No," the Dark Lord insisted, increasing his power as his black mass darkened further.

Severus pushed more power into his wisp and started to wrap around the Dark Lord's mass until his wisp had engulfed it completely. Then, he used his wisp to clamp down, squeezing the Dark Lord's mass until the madman was forced to leave Harry's mind.

"I'll be back," the Dark Lord warned before disappearing out of Harry's mind.

Descending back into Harry's mind, Severus returned to the beach where he had left Harry, or the small child that represented him anyway. The boy was covered in sand as he crawled on his knees, digging out a mote around a small lop-sided sandcastle.

"Look," the child jumped up, pointing to his creation.

"Very good, but it's time to return," Severus' wisp extended out to the boy again. "The monster is gone."

"Do I have to?" the boy whined, looking back at his collection of buckets and shovels.

"Yes," Severus confirmed. "Come, child."

With a sigh, the small boy latched onto Severus' wisp. The Potions Master returned the child to the circular stage that was now glowing with light before extracting himself from Harry's mind.

-----

Harry cringed at the hoarse screaming echoing around the room. It hurt his ears, not to mention his throbbing headache.

"Shh," a silky voice whispered as Harry felt the strong arms wrapped around him. He blinked, and it was only then that Harry realized that horrible screaming was coming from him, and that Voldemort had invaded his mind.

"Professor?" Harry croaked out, cringing at the sound of his voice.

"Do you remember what happened?" Severus asked him as Harry leaned more of his weight against his professor's chest, breathing in the lingering minty smell that emanated off his clothes. He felt safe wrapped up in the strong arms of the man that had protected him more times than he could count.

"Yeah," Harry answered burrowing his head into Severus' shoulder, "but it was strange. Usually, I see through his eyes, but this time it felt like he was attacking me. There was darkness all around until you came and took me away. I don't remember where you took me except that it was safe and away from Voldemort."

"I took you into the inner recesses of your mind. Indeed, it was a mental attack from the Dark Lord. He's never done that before?" the Potions Master asked, his fingers running through Harry's hair. The motions soothed Harry's frazzled state and even helped his pounding headache.

"No," Harry shook his head once before realizing his mistake. He broke free of Severus' hold, scrambling to the edge of the bed before heaving a foamy, acidic mess onto the stone floor.

"Here, Harry," Severus pushed the basin into his hands.

Harry stayed bent over the basin through two more waves of nausea before he was able to move. "I'm sorry," he apologized, motioning towards the floor.

"Don't apologize for what you can't help," the Potions Master took the basin from him. "Magic is useful for some things after all."

Feeling a bead of moisture trickling down his forehead, Harry wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, only to discover it wasn't sweat, but blood. "Professor?" Harry's voice cracked, his eyes wide in fear, as he turned to face Snape, holding out his blood-covered hand.

"Your scar," Severus said, jumping out of Harry's bed. Harry gulped. His scar was bleeding? How was that even possible? It was a mental attack, not a physical one. "Sit up," his professor motioned as he pulled gloves onto his hands.

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily against his pillows for support. He was exhausted, nauseated, and in pain, but he was too scared to go to sleep. Voldemort could slip into his head while he slept and send him a vision or attack again.

"This will sting a bit," the Potions Master warned as he poured alcohol onto a patch of gauze before tilting Harry's chin up and using the patch of gauze to swab up the blood and clean out his open scar.

Biting down on his lip, Harry forced himself to stay still as the alcohol seeped into his scar. It stung even though Snape was trying to be gentle. Harry clenched the duvet with his fists, waiting for the stinging sensation to go away. Finally, even though it was really only a few seconds, Severus withdrew the alcohol soaked gauze and pressed a clean gauze pad to his scar.

"Hold that there," his professor instructed. Harry raised his left hand to the gauze pad where Severus waited for Harry's hand to cover the pad before letting go. "Scourgify," the Potions Master directed towards Harry's blood-soaked hand with a wave of his hand.

"Oh my, what happened?" Miss Adamson walked into the room carrying the requested bag of anti-emetics.

"Nothing," Harry said at the same time as his professor. He really didn't wish to rehash the mental attack from Voldemort with the Specialist.

"That doesn't look like nothing," Miss Adamson hung the new bag of anti-emetics before stepping towards him. "Remove the gauze for a second, so I can see."

"It's his scar," Severus interrupted, giving Harry a look that made him keep the gauze pad firmly against his scar. "I have it under control," the Potions Master hissed.

"If you're sure," she huffed, connecting him to the new anti-emetics without another word. "Floo if you need me before I bring the next bag of chemo." And with that, Miss Adamson left.

Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thank you," he yawned, sinking further into his pillows. "Can I move my hand yet?"

"Yes," Severus nodded, unwrapping a plaster.

"Do you have to?" Harry scrunched up his face at the sight of the rather large plaster. He didn't want a huge bandage stuck on his forehead even if he wasn't leaving Snape's quarters anytime soon. "Can't you heal it with magic?"

"First, you should know by now that it's unwise to use magic on a curse scar," Severus lectured. "Second, no studies have been done detailing which healing spells will or will not interact with your treatment or your cancer. It would be foolish to take such a risk just because you don't wish to be seen with a plaster on your forehead regardless of the fact that myself and Miss Adamson will be the only ones to see it."

"Alright, I get your point," Harry sighed. "It's not easy knowing there's magic that can cure pretty much everything else, but what I have."

"I know," Snape squeezed a bit of ointment onto his scar before sticking the plaster over it. "The bleeding has almost stopped. We can't be careless and let it become infected."

Harry nodded, slipping on his glasses that Snape offered to him. He stared down at the gauze pad, a bright red spot of blood in its center. His blood didn't look any different than it had before. "It's strange," he said.

"What is?"

"My blood," Harry explained. "It looks the same as it always has. You'd think it would look different because of the cancer cells in it."

"It does under a microscope," Severus took the gauze pad from his hands and threw it away with his gloves in the red garbage can. "How bad is your headache?"

"Bad," he said, the throbbing in his head refusing to abate. "The Tylenol didn't help much last time."

"I'll give you a bit of morphine and if you need more after that, we'll talk to Miss Adamson about getting you a PCA pump," Snape walked over to a locked set of drawers after summoning a new set of gloves.

"What's a PCA pump?" Harry watched his professor perform a silent and wandless unlocking charm. He knew Snape enough to know it wasn't a simple alohomora, and Harry found himself fascinated with how much magic Snape could perform silently and wandlessly. In Potions, it had never been apparent how powerful his professor was, even though Harry knew he had to be somewhat powerful to be a spy, but he had never seen or paid attention to how much effortless magic Severus performed daily.

"A patient controlled analgesia pump is basically a pump that allows you to push a button when you're in pain, and it'll release an extra burst of pain medication," Snape picked up a syringe filled with a small dose of morphine from an open drawer.

"But what if I press it too much?" Harry liked the idea of being able to push a button without having to rely on others, but he was afraid of overdosing.

"The pump won't allow you to overdose," Severus explained as he walked over to his infusion pump with the syringe. "If you press the button too many times, the pump won't deliver another dose at that time. It'll also keep track of when you press the button, and if we need to make adjustments we can."

"I won't get addicted? I've heard of Muggles who get addicted to pain killers." The last thing Harry wanted was another problem to take care of.

"Hold on a second," Severus pushed the morphine into an IV injection port on the saline line. "The morphine shouldn't take long to work." He crossed the room to dispose of his gloves and syringe before perching on the edge of Harry's bed. "We need to discuss your last statement."

"Then it's likely I'll get addicted?" Harry fumbled with his duvet. He'd rather handle the pain than get addicted to pain killers.

"No, which is why we need to have this discussion now," Severus set his hand over Harry's hands, stopping his fumbling. "When you receive pain medication, it'll be regulated and only when you need it. It's a misconception that cancer patients become addicted to pain medication."

Harry nodded, looking up to see Snape watching him. He averted his gaze back down to his duvet.

"Harry, it's important that you understand this because you shouldn't allow yourself to be in pain when we can manage it with medication," his professor squeezed his hands.

"Okay," he whispered, feeling like he was a walking pharmacy. He hadn't had so much medication in one day or ever. The most he ever got from his Aunt Petunia was a dose or two from the locked medicine cabinet so that he didn't get sick enough that she'd have to take him to a doctor.

"Is your headache abating?"

"Yeah," Harry hadn't realized it until Snape mentioned it as he was too used to dealing with pain, but the pounding had lessened.

"And your nausea?" the Potions Master asked as he flicked his wand, casting a general stat scan over him.

"Same," he shrugged. So far, the new anti-emetic drug felt like it was as useless as the previous one. Harry longed to just lie back down and fall back asleep. It was the only thing that had helped him escape from the constant nausea so far, but he couldn't because Voldemort might be waiting for the opportunity. Nevertheless, Harry yawned.

"Tired? The morphine might make you a little drowsy," Severus said.

"No," he stated.

"Harry," the Potions Master pried.

He drew his knees up to his chest and withdrew his hands from Severus'. "I don't want him to get in my head again," Harry whispered, burying his head into his knees.

"We need to start Occlumency lessons again," Snape shifted so that he was sitting next to him.

"I knew you'd say that," he leaned into his professor's side, unable to stop himself from seeking comfort despite the subject of Occlumency lessons.

"It won't be like before," Severus promised, his arm wrapping around Harry. He closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of safety he got from this Snape. He liked this Snape, not the greasy bastard who raped his mind instead of teaching him Occlumency. It was hard for Harry to believe that it was the same person, and he wondered how he had warmed up to Snape so fast. It was like his professor changed the moment he suspected something was seriously wrong with Harry, and he hadn't, still didn't have the energy to fight with the man and challenge the change.

"This isn't an act, is it?" Harry needed reassurance that Snape wouldn't turn back into the cold, hateful professor that he used to be towards him.

"An act?"

"You, being nice to me," he clarified.

"No, Harry," Severus pulled him closer. "I promise you this isn't an act."

"Why? I mean you hated me," Harry accused.

"I never hated you. Disliked? Annoyed that Professor Dumbledore and the rest of the staff let you and your friends get away with your irresponsible acts? Yes, but most of my preconceived notions were proven wrong."

"What changed?" Harry shifted more of his weight onto Snape.

"I saw how much pain you were in during the bone marrow biopsy, yet you hardly complained," Severus explained. "I also saw a bit of your mother in you that day, which forced me to look past your father. I saw you, as Harry, for the first time that day, not your father or mother. You, the child who lived those incidents I saw during our Occlumency lessons."

"Can we not speak about those," Harry cringed, not wanting to discuss the bits Snape had seen from his life with the Dursleys. He was ashamed and embarrassed by those memories.

"We will eventually, when you're ready," Severus promised. "Those memories I saw saved you from another summer with those despicable Muggles."

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

"I reported some of the incidents to the Headmaster, and it convinced him to allow you to stay here for the summer," Snape ran a hand through Harry's hair.

"Thank you," Harry whispered in disbelief. Someone had finally listened. After all the years of adults dismissing his claims, believing his relatives', or ignoring the few things Harry let slip, someone did something to get him out of his relatives' home.

A tear slipped out of Harry's eye, but he quickly brushed it away. Snape, who at the time didn't hate him, but disliked him, did more for him than any other adult in his life. "Thank you," he repeated, wrapping his arms round Snape's waist in a hug. He felt Severus stiffen and withdrew his hold. "Sorry."

"It's fine," the Potions Master nudged Harry to sit up.

Harry frowned. Had he crossed a line? He backed away from Snape a bit to give the man some personal space. He watched as the man picked up a pillow before settling back against the rest of the pillows.

The Potions Master laid the pillow across his lap and patted it for Harry to lie down. With a bright smile he laid down on his side with his head on the pillow in Severus' lap.

"The first step to learning Occlumency is to relax," Severus explained, his voice calm and soothing.

Harry tensed, but his professor gently turned his head so that he was looking up at him and started to massage his temples. "Close your eyes, relax, and follow my instructions. This is a guided meditation exercise and won't involve any form of Occlumency or Legilimency."

Closing his eyes, Harry felt his entire body relax as Snape's calloused fingers worked wonders for the dull ache he still felt from his headache. He was almost asleep when Severus gave him his first instructions, but Harry concentrated on feeling the top of his head just like Snape said, enjoying a lesson from his once most hated professor for the first time. 

After another exhausting night with Harry sleeping for only a couple of hours at a time between fearing the Dark Lord would attack again and waking up to vomit, Severus was ready to down a sleeping potion and sleep the day away, but he couldn't. Harry needed him for day two of the week-long chemo cycle. So instead of seeking his bed once Harry fell back asleep at daybreak, Severus summoned a pepper-up potion from the kitchen where he was brewing a strong pot of coffee. He downed the potion the second it flew into his hands, following it up with a pain potion.

Harry's first real Occlumency lesson had gone well. The boy had achieved a meditative state, which had kept him calm enough to sleep for four hours afterwards, two hours more than any other period throughout the night. The respite had given Severus time to finally get the salve for his Dark Mark, but by then the searing pain was gone leaving behind a constant low-grade burning. No doubt the lingering pain was a gift from the Dark Lord for aiding Harry during the mental attack.

Sighing, the Potions Master unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and rolled it up to reveal the hated tattoo. An uncomfortable heat radiated off the angry red mark. He needed to apply more salve, but once his coffee was finished, Severus planned to shower, making another application pointless until afterwards. For now a cold compress from the charmed freezer cabinet would have to do. He pressed the cold compress to his Mark, relaxing as the compress helped to ease the burning.

Severus walked over to the table to pick up a scrap piece of parchment and never-out quill to start on the grocery list. He returned to the kitchen with his supplies, setting down the parchment on top of the island only to find the long forgotten envelope from WCS sitting in front of him.

How had he forgotten about that letter? He prided himself on remembering the littlest details even through suffering the Cruciatus curse from the Dark Lord. Yet in his worry over the mental attack and what it could possibly mean, Severus had forgotten about the letter that he remained puzzled over.

Summoning his glasses, Severus broke the seal and pulled out the letter inside the envelope. It was written in a neat script, so neat and precise that he knew could only come from a charmed dictation quill. With his rimless frames in place, he held up the letter, more than curious as to what WCS had to say to Severus Prince.

Mr. Prince,

It has come to Wizarding Child Services notice that there has been an attempted breach of your parental rights concerning the minor wizard, Hadrian Pax Alexander Prince. On June 19th 1996, WCS received forms requesting Severus Tobias Snape be assigned medical proxy rights for said minor child. Approval of the medical proxy rights has been denied. However, we strongly encourage you to talk to your child and Severus Snape in regards to the matter.

Sincerely,

Althea Kingston, Head of Wizarding Child Services

Please do not respond to this automated message. All concerns must be dealt with in person at the Ministry of Magic. Proper identification is required, and all wizards and witches may be subject to magical signature scans to prove his or her identity.

Severus dropped the parchment, backing away from the island. His eyes were wide in astonishment, and his hands trembled worse than after suffering the Cruciatus curse. The letter had to be fake or tempered with. Its claim was preposterous. He had never been with Lily like that. Never. They simply couldn't have a child together, much less the boy known as Harry Potter.

But then why was WCS claiming he had a son? WCS records couldn't be tampered with. It was the only department where files were exclusively created and updated with magic to prevent false claims against a child meaning there had to be a Hadrian Prince as long as the letter was legit.

Severus paced in front of the menacing letter. There were two possibilities. The letter could actually be from WCS in which case Severus didn't know what to think. The likely, more probable possibility was the letter was some kind of joke courtesy of the Weasley twins or some other miscreant. Yet, the letter and seal looked too authentic to be a mere fake.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Severus took a deep breath before turning towards the island. Perhaps he was more tired than he thought and hallucinated the contents of the letter. It wouldn't surprise him if he had drifted off for a few seconds. The Potions Master cracked open his left eye. The blasted letter still sat on the island unfolded and intimidating, like it was waiting to jump up and hex him.

He could do this. He was Severus Snape, the professor known to make first year Hufflepuffs burst into tears with a single glance. Slowly, Severus stepped up to the island, grasping the edge with his trembling hands. On the count of three he would look down and read the letter. One...two...three, his eyes scanned the letter again. The words were exactly the same as they had been minutes before. 

Severus cursed as his hands' grip on the edge of the ebony granite countertop tightened. He was so sure it had been some kind of delusion his mind conjured during a slip into dreams. Since he knew he had never been intimate with Lily, there was one last possibility. The letter was a fake, and there would be hell to pay for whoever sent it.

But how exactly was Severus going to catch the culprit? He didn't even know what the owl that delivered the letter looked like. His bets were on the Weasley twins. The two redheads had caused more trouble for him than even Harry had, occurrence wise anyway. But without proof how could Severus be sure? He wouldn't retaliate unless he was positive he knew whom the culprit or culprits were. After all, Severus didn't want the little prank to spread to others' ears. For now, he'd have to wait for clues.

Content with waiting for the prankster or pranksters to make their next move, Severus poured himself a cup of steaming coffee. He took the cup with him to the entrance chamber to retrieve the day's post. His morning wouldn't be complete without scanning The Daily Prophet over his cup of coffee, sneering at the ridiculous claims of the so-called journalists.

Instead of his post, Severus found Minerva washing her hands at the sink. "Minerva?" The Potions Master wondered what his colleague was doing at his quarters so early in the morning and wondered why he hadn't heard her floo in.

"Good morning, Severus," Minerva greeted him as she dried her hands off. "I had hoped to slip in without waking Harry. I'm sorry to just drop in, but I thought that perhaps you'd like a bit of a break for a few hours."

"Do I look like I need help?" Severus sneered. He couldn't help it. Between his sleepless night and the prank letter, his patience had all but run out. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of one teenager."

"Yes, I know and I do not mean to imply otherwise," Minerva said, her eyes scanning his body from head to toe much like a mother would. Severus crossed his arms across his chest, mindful to keep his coffee from spilling. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a few hours to sleep? You look like you haven't slept in days."

"I assure you I am fine," he snapped. Severus had keyed Minerva into the wards set on his floo in case of an emergency, not so she could drop by anytime she felt like it. He hated the invasion of privacy. It was bad enough Miss Adamson dropped by every few hours. Severus wouldn't have Minerva doing the same.

"I shall come by later when Harry is awake to give him his quills then if that is agreeable to you," Minerva said, walking back towards the floo.

"That will be fine," Severus nodded, taking a sip of his coffee to avoid the smile that threatened to creep onto his face for getting rid of Minerva.

"Oh, and Severus," the Deputy Headmistress turned back to him as she remembered. "A Ministry owl arrived with a letter for you yesterday. I sent it down with the rest of your post. I wanted to make sure you got it. It looked important."

A Ministry owl? Severus froze, his hands beginning to tremble again.

"On second thought Minerva, I'll take you up on your offer. I could do with a break. I forgot I need to floo the Specialist a blood sample, and then I should brew the wolf's potion," he said, his voice calm and steady though inside he was reeling.

"Of course. I'll be glad to sit with Harry for as long as you need. I can just as easily tend to my paperwork here as I can in my office," Minerva stated with a forced smile.

Severus knew he hadn't fooled his colleague, but at the moment he didn't care. He had answers to seek, and a potion to brew. One rather simple potion would tell him all he needed to know, to prove the prank was just that, a prank.

"Come in," Severus ushered Minerva into his quarters and to Harry's room after casting several charms on her paperwork to ensure that it didn't introduce any germs into his quarters. "He's been asleep for about an hour now. If you're lucky he'll sleep for an hour longer," he whispered as Minerva sat down in the chair beside the child's bed.

Harry lay curled up in a ball on his side, his skin soaked with perspiration despite Severus casting a freshening charm on the boy an hour earlier. The prednisone caused nasty night sweats and while freshening charms helped temporarily, it was a losing battle. Still, Severus cast another freshening charm over Harry, determined the child be as comfortable as possible as he slept.

"Is he alright?" Minerva said, her eyes following the tubes from where they snaked out from under the child's duvet up to the infusion pump.

"He will be," he sighed walking towards the bathroom to wash his hands. It was hard to see the child suffering through the intensive chemotherapy regimen. The second anti-emetic hadn't helped and Miss Adamson had disconnected him from it during the night. They were going to try the last one this morning once she obtained it from the hospital pharmacy along with bringing the necessary equipment to give Harry a PCA pump.

Severus refused to think about the possibility that the sick child was his son. It was impossible. Harry was a Potter through and through. However, despite his refusal to think about the possibility, Severus' hands shook worse than after suffering from the Dark Lord's Cruciatus curse.

After thoroughly washing his hands, Severus grabbed a pair of gloves before returning to Harry's room where he pulled out the necessary items to draw blood from the boy's Hickman. He brought the items over to the rolling tray beside the boy's bed. Carefully, the Potions Master peeled back the duvet and fished the unused lumen out from Harry's tank top with trembling hands.

"Professor?" Harry mumbled, his eyes cracking open.

"Go back to sleep," Severus whispered as he put on the gloves and assembled the little mechanism that allowed him to draw blood from the catheter before moving to Harry's Hickman to remove the positive pressure adapter. "I'm just drawing blood for some tests."

He tried as hard as he could to keep his hands steady, but they were failing him. His hands continued to shake throughout the tedious, but necessary process. The Potions Master cleaned the catheter hub with two alcohol pads, and then connected the mechanism to the line.

"You're shaking," Harry pointed out as he pushed the first phial into the mechanism and filled it, removing it to replace it with another empty phial. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Severus assured the boy. "I'm just tired," he lied, inwardly cursing his hands for refusing to stay steady. After the phial was filled, he clamped the lumen and removed the mechanism before once again cleaning the hub with two alcohol pads.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked as Severus attached a new positive pressure adapter.

"Positive," he nodded, unclamping the lumen and flushing the line with first saline and then heparin before finally clamping the lumen again.

"You're wearing your glasses," the boy stated, his eyes blinking rapidly.

"Headache," Severus said in reference to his glasses. He did have a headache, but he had forgotten about them after seeing Minerva in his entrance chamber. Always self-deprecating when it came to his appearance, Severus didn't wish to give people another reason to comment on his looks, and never wore his reading glasses in front of people.

"They look good," Harry nodded his approval. Severus rolled his eyes. The boy didn't even have his own glasses on and his eyesight was horrible without them. How could the boy tell if his glasses looked good or not? "Can you put some more eye drops into my eyes for me? They're starting to itch again."

Another side effect that had started overnight was Harry's dry and itchy eyes.  Severus had let Harry try to put the drops in himself, but it proved to be an interesting experiment with most of the drops ending up outside of Harry's eyes. It seemed that without his glasses Harry's depth perception was a little off, and they both agreed it was easier and safer if Severus applied the eye drops after the boy nearly poked his own eye out.

"Let me get the bottle," the Potions Master nodded, stepping away from Harry's bedside to dispose of his gloves and supplies. Severus retrieved the small bottle of eye drops and returned to Harry where the boy already had his head tilted up, waiting for him to put a drop into each eye for him. He couldn't hide his shaking hands from Harry since the boy could see them, but he could make sure the drops went into Harry's eyes by being extra careful. Severus squeezed a drop into Harry's left eye first and let the boy blink his eyes a few time before moving to his right eye.

"Thanks," Harry said, rolling back onto his side and pulling the duvet over his shoulder.

"Do you need anything else?"

"No," the child answered his eyes starting to droop shut.

"Let me get your morning meds before you go back to sleep. Professor McGonagall is here and is going to sit with you for a little bit while I brew a potion," Severus said, almost forgetting the stern professor had been in Harry's room the entire time. He hadn't heard a sound come from her since Harry woke.

"She is?" Harry looked around.

"I'm right here, Mr. Potter," Minerva said, stepping out from behind him and squeezing Harry's hand.

"Oh, hi Professor," the boy yawned.

Severus trekked to the warded cabinet in the dining nook to retrieve Harry's morning medications while the boy was busy with greeting Minerva. He put the pills into a little plastic cup and brought them into the bedroom for the boy to take along with a fresh glass of water.

"Here," he handed over the medications and water to Harry.

With a sigh, Harry began the process of swallowing the multitude of pills, two at a time. Once finished, the child handed the empty cup and glass back to him and slid back down to catch a few more hours of sleep. The Potions Master banished both items to the kitchen.

"The basin," Severus pointed to the ceramic object sitting on the nightstand, "is for when he vomits. Be sure to scourfigy it after use even though it's self-cleaning. If you happen to get any on you or if Harry does, you'll need to clean it up as soon as possible and clean the area thoroughly. His bodily fluids contain chemo residue, and chemotherapy is harmful to skin. Let me know if it happens when I return."

Minerva nodded, her eyes unsure and worried.

"He's fine," he reassured her, surprised by Minerva's reaction. "Miss Adamson will be stopping by in a couple hours, but I should be done by then. If Harry's hungry, there's freeze pops in the kitchen or there's bread for toast. And if you or Harry need anything, I'll be in my lab and don't hesitate to send for me."

"I'm sure I can manage," Minerva smiled a thin smile as she pulled out her paperwork.

"Of course," Severus felt torn. He didn't want to leave Harry, but he had to know. He wouldn't be able to think of anything else until the paternity potion was brewed, and he had his answers.

"I'll be right down the hall if you need me," Severus whispered to the child, the too-thin fragile child that could be his child, his own flesh and blood. Tucking the duvet around the boy's shoulders, Severus ran his hand through the thick mop of hair before forcing himself down the hall and into his private lab, the phials of bloods that could potentially change everything tucked safely into his pants pocket.

Once inside his lab, Severus took a few deep, calming breaths. He had to calm down if he was going to brew the potion correctly. The Potions Master retrieved a worn text from a shelf near the door where he kept the texts he referenced most often. It wouldn't be the first time Severus had brewed the paternity potion, but he hadn't brewed it in years, and it was not one that he had memorized because it only had one use and Severus had never needed its use for himself. He flipped through the pages until he came to the correct page. The potion took up both sides of the book, ingredients on the left side and procedure on the right. Only eight ingredients were used in the potion, and the whole process took under an hour.

Severus gathered the ingredients from the shelves that lined the room where each ingredient was alphabetized and labeled. As he started crushing up daisy petals, he waved the flame on beneath the cauldron set on his workbench. The chopping, crushing, and dicing soothed him, and Severus found himself immersed into making his potion perfect, until it came time for the final steps anyway.

After stirring the pink potion clockwise twenty times, the Potions Master pulled out his stirring rod to wait for the potion to lose its pink color and turn completely clear. All he had left to do was add Harry's blood first, stir counter-clockwise three times then five times right, before adding his own blood and waiting for the potion to turn color. Red indicated a parent-child relationship while black indicated a negative result.

The potion became clear and with shakier hands than he had ever brewed with, Severus uncorked the phial of Harry's blood and added three drops into the potion before resealing the phial and stirring the potion. One last step remained, one last chance to back out of finishing the potion and remaining oblivious to the answers that lay before him.

Picking up the sterilized knife from the workbench, Severus pressed the blade to his left index finger and made a tiny cut. He squeezed three drops of blood from his finger into the cauldron, holding his breath the entire time. He spun away from the cauldron as the last drop hit the surface of the potion. Severus couldn't endure standing there and watching the potion turn color. Exhaling, the Potions Master whispered a healing charm over his finger.

The potion would've changed by now. It only took a few seconds for results, but Severus couldn't bring himself to turn back around quite yet. If it were red, Severus didn't know what to do. He didn't even know how it could be possible or where he'd need to look for answers. More importantly, what would it do to the tentative trust he had developed with the boy? Would Harry hate him for having to grow up with those horrible Muggles? He didn't know the first thing in how to be a father, and yet there was a possibility he was the father of a very sick child, one that could very well die from cancer. But before Severus could even start to seek answers, he needed the most important answer, the one that the potion sitting behind him was holding.

With his eyes closed, Severus turned around. He could do this. It was only a matter of opening his eyes and determining if the color before him was red or black. Any four-year-old could read the results. There was no mistaking the two colors, and he knew he had brewed the potion perfectly. Mustering up courage, enough to confuse the Sorting Hat to put him into Gryffindor, Severus opened his eyes, unprepared for the results before him.

Red.

Severus sunk to his knees, his head in his hands. Merlin, what had he done? Harry was his child? With his beloved Lily? The one person he could imagine himself having a child with?

It was impossible, but somehow it was true. The paternity potion didn't lie. The question was how? Severus knew he hadn't been intimate with Lily, but apparently he had. Did Lily regret it so much that she obliviated him? After leaving Hogwarts and with the assistance of Polyjuice, he met up with Lily nearly monthly before the Potters went into hiding, usually in a public place to discuss his Potions work, but of course the conversations swayed from that. Had one of those conversations turned into something more?

How was he going to get answers? Lily was dead, and he refused to go to Albus. Severus' trust in the man was wavering, and he didn't trust what the Headmaster would do with the revelation. Yet, he had to know, if not for himself, but for Harry. Severus couldn't even think to tell the boy, his son, until he knew the circumstances around Harry's conception.

Severus cursed as he pictured telling the child that he was his father. His son was the fragile, sick child down the hall, who at that very moment was having poisonous chemotherapy pumped into his body. Harry could die, his son could die before he ever got to really know the boy, before the boy completed school or grew up and fell in love.

Yelling in frustration, Severus jumped up to his feet and flipped the workbench over, the upended cauldron clanking to the floor with the red potion splattering out in all directions. Was this some sort of twisted karma? Hadn't he lost enough already? He couldn't stand to lose his son, too. Not when he'd only begun to really know him. It wasn't fair though life had never been fair for Severus.

He had been doing well with helping Harry deal with his cancer diagnosis and subsequent start of treatments, but now things were different. Before, there had been a barrier that helped Severus stay calm and collected. Harry had been his student, a student he had taken a vow to protect, but just a student. Now that boy was his son, his flesh and blood and when the paternity potion had turned red that thin barrier had vanished.

Severus reached for the nearest potion phial and flung it against the wall, the glass shattering into tiny pieces. What had Lily done? How could she not have told him? He would've never let the child grow up with those Muggles even if those first few years would've been tough. Harry could've grown up in the wizarding world and been prepared to enter Hogwarts like all the other non-Muggleborns. More importantly, he could've grown up with his remaining parent like he should have.

Throwing another potion phial across the room, Severus restrained himself from screaming. Not only had the paternity potion changed everything between himself and Harry, it meant that to get his answers Severus would need to visit WCS in person which could possibly expose his secret of being the lost Prince heir that hadn't been seen since he was a child.

Another thing was how would the Ministry react to an ex-Death Eater spy being Harry Potter's father if they figured out Severus Prince and Severus Snape was the same person. Would they try to take the child away from him? It was against their rights since Severus hadn't abused the child, but he didn't doubt the Ministry would somehow try to take custody away from him, a custody he apparently had all along. Severus would just have to be careful on his trip to WCS, and hope the workers were as stupid as most of the Ministry workers.

But first, Severus needed to calm down. He couldn't storm off to WCS in his current state or he'd alert the Aurors upon his arrival at the Ministry for suspicious behavior. He also needed to check in on Harry and make sure the boy would be all right while he was gone for a few hours and hope Minerva could stay with him. Severus wouldn't leave Harry alone, not while he was receiving chemotherapy and the boy's magic was spotty at best.

The Potions Master took out his wand and returned his Potions lab to its pristine state, making sure to evanesco every last drop of the paternity potion. He wouldn't put it past Albus to come snooping around once he heard Severus left to visit WCS, and somehow he had a feeling Albus knew more than he let on concerning his son. Severus just couldn't put a finger on why he suspected Albus knew, but he would find out, and Albus had better be ready to face his wrath if the Headmaster had known all along and kept his son from him.

Levitating the last repaired phial into its place, Severus strode out of his lab and down the hall to Harry's room. He heard two female voices talking and a quill scratching across parchment as he came closer to the child's room. Miss Adamson had arrived then. He stopped outside the doorway to brush off his clothes and clamp down his Occlumency shields. He couldn't let on that he hadn't been brewing the wolf's potion, not yet.

"Professor," Harry smiled as he stepped into the boy's room from where he sat against the pillows, quill in hand. "Professor McGonagall and Miss Lucy are helping me with topics for my Herbology essay."

"Are you feeling better then?" Severus asked refusing to allow his mind to remind him that this was his son.

"Maybe a little," Harry shrugged. "After this chemo bag is empty, I get my hour off."

Severus nodded, leaning against the wall. He knew how much Harry had been looking forward to his daily break, even if it was only an hour. "Is everything going well?" he said to Miss Adamson.

"Yes, everything is going well. Harry and I had a discussion concerning his recent eating habits, and we agreed to give it one more day to see if his appetite improved any," the Specialist smiled as she moved to the infusion pump the moment the alarm alerted her the chemotherapy bag was empty. He watched carefully as she unhooked Harry and tended to his Hickman before giving the boy the go ahead to jump in the shower.

"I'll be back once the hour is up with the next bag of chemo and the results of his daily labs," Miss Adamson said, taking her leave.

Once Severus heard the shower running, he sat down on the edge of Harry's bed with a sigh. "Are you able to stay with Harry for a few more hours?" he asked his colleague.

"What's wrong, Severus?" Minerva collected Harry's school supplies and stacked them into a neat pile on the nightstand.

"Nothing is wrong, but I must make a trip to the Ministry to straighten out a few details."

"Of course," she nodded. "Are you coming to the Order meeting tonight?"

"I haven't decided yet. I'm sure I could get Poppy or Mrs. Weasley to stay with Harry while I attend the meeting, but it'll depend on how he's feeling," Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He really needed to brew a fresh batch of his strongest headache potion.

"When do you plan to leave?" Minerva settled back into the chair as she conjured a tea set, handing a filled cup over to him, prepared with exactly one and a quarter cubes of sugar, just the way he liked it.

Severus took the offered teacup, glad for the caffeine source. Pepper-up potions could only do so much, and he'd need all the energy he could get to make it through the day. "Once Miss Adamson reconnects Harry, and he's situated. I don't want to wait too long, and then have the Ministry close before I'm finished with my task."

"That is fine. I just have my paperwork to tend. I sometimes long for the days before I was appointed Deputy Headmistress," Minerva sighed. "Each year the Ministry and Board of Governors' insist on more and more paperwork to be completed. Did you know that starting next year every detention must be written up and filed in the student's file? It's ludicrous."

Severus' frowned in irritation. Every detention would need to be written up? What would the Ministry or Board demand next? Every point reduction or addition noted with an explanation? It would certainly put a change in how many detentions he handed out. Severus hated useless paperwork that did nothing but take up his time. "At least the Weasley twins won't be returning."

"As much as I'm sure Molly will try to force them to return to school, I must agree I hope they don't if only for the reduced load of paperwork. Though, I'll certainly miss them on the Quidditch team," Minerva sipped her tea.

"I won't," Severus smirked. "Slytherin has their best chance to win the Quidditch Cup since Harry entered Hogwarts."

"I'm losing him for the year, too, aren't I?" she frowned.

"Yes," the Potions Master confirmed. "If the treatments go well, Harry should be able to play his Seventh Year."

"I suppose that's something. I was hoping my house could redeem themselves after finishing last in the House Cup this year."

"You won't have to worry about another occurrence like this year's where Harry and his cohorts sent Gryffindor into negative numbers, but I still think Slytherin will win," Severus enjoyed riling up Minerva over house rivalry. It kept his mind off the puzzle concerning Harry's parentage, and how it came to be. Severus wasn't looking forward to his visit to WCS later that day, but it was the only place he knew would possibly hold the answers he sought. He only hoped that he wasn't prevented from viewing Harry's sealed file once he reached the WCS office.

-----

As the house-elves served breakfast to the remaining staff in the Great Hall, Albus greeted Filius and Sinistra as the professors took a seat at the small table. He noted Minerva's empty spot. The Deputy Headmistress was never late for meals, and Albus wondered where she had gone. Severus' spot remained empty, but he expected that. Even when his Potions Master wasn't looking after a student, he tended to forgo eating in the Great Hall as soon as he could get away with it.

Albus was buttering a piece of toast when a small contingent of owls flew through the Great Hall, dropping the post at each professor's spot. A Ministry owl flew low, releasing its envelope on top of Severus' pile. The Headmaster reached over to his left to gather Severus' mail to deliver to him through the floo since the owls got lost if forced to fly into the elaborate maze of the Hogwarts dungeons. However, Albus took an extra second to examine the Ministry letter. He turned the envelope over, noticed the WCS seal, and tucked it into his robes for safekeeping before returning to finish his breakfast, never intending for Severus to see its contents. Albus hid a smile behind his teacup. He had caught the letter before his young professor saw its contents.

-----

With fresh pajamas on, Harry climbed back into bed. His shower had felt so good, even if he had to climb out halfway through to vomit. He appreciated Severus' freshening charms throughout the night, but it wasn't the same as physically scrubbing off all the grime that had accumulated on his skin from the night sweats. He was surprised to find his bedding had been changed again. Harry was lucky to have snuck his old graying linens in the wash once a month. Though, the gesture did make sense if he was to avoid germs as much as possible.

"Thanks," Harry said to Snape, gesturing to his bed linens.

Severus nodded, his lips set in a thin line across his face as he set a tray containing a smoothie and toast across his lap. "Eat."

Harry frowned as the man sat in the chair instead of on the edge of the bed. Where was his professor's breakfast and why was he acting so standoffish when a few hours ago the man had been affectionate in front of McGonagall of all people? Speaking of which, where had his Head of House gone?

"Where did Professor McGonagall go?" Harry asked, figuring it was a safe question. He hadn't known her to ever leave without saying she was leaving. She was too proper for that.

"She went to retrieve more paperwork," the Potions Master frowned. "Don't worry, she'll return as I have a few errands to run today," he said, his tone cold and distant.

"I didn't mean it like that," Harry sighed, picking up a piece of toast by the corner to twirl it around on the plate. He hadn't meant to hurt Severus' feelings, if that's indeed what he had done. The Potions Master was so hard to read. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere that concerns you," Snape halfway snapped. "Sorry," he apologized right away, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Stop playing with your food."

"Sorry," Harry let the piece of toast fall down onto the plate. "I'm not really hungry." Despite knowing he needed to eat, Harry just couldn't make himself go through the motions when he knew it was just going to come back up anyway. His nausea had failed to subside, and he was beginning to get used to the constant queasiness, but food was not an option. Perhaps he could be persuaded to drink the smoothie. It didn't look as revolting or intimidating as the toast.

"You need to eat," the Potions Master reminded him.

"I know," Harry sighed, picking up the smoothie and taking a few sips. He drank down the smoothie in silence. Snape kept giving him weird looks, and looked like he was going to say something multiple times, but continued to sit in the chair, his back straight and hands folded in his lap while ensuring Harry drank down the last drop of his smoothie.

"Finished?" Severus asked when Harry set down his glass.

"Yeah," Harry pushed away the tray. What had happened to his professor between morning and now? Snape seemed to be reverting back to his snarky-self, and Harry couldn't figure out what he had done to trigger it. Severus had said he was brewing a potion, Wolfsbane to be exact, but Harry didn't think the Potions Master could be angered over that, even if the potion was for Lupin, so it had to be something he did. But what had he done?

Harry tried to remember everything that had happened that morning, but nothing had happened that could possibly anger the professor. Was Snape changing his mind? Was he regretting agreeing to take care of Harry? He knew his professor hadn't gotten much sleep since every time he woke Snape was up. Was that it? The Professor couldn't handle sleepless nights, so he was going to leave to make alternative arrangements for Harry?

"Sir," Harry said, his voice wavering. "You don't have to stay with me at night. I'll be okay, and you can get some sleep." Anything was better than being sent back to the Dusleys. Harry was sure that's where he'd be going.

"What?" Snape snapped, his obsidian eyes searching Harry's. "What are you referring to?"

"You're going to speak with my relatives because you haven't been getting enough sleep, so you're going to send me back. Right?" Harry pulled his knees to his chest. He didn't want to leave Snape's quarters. He felt safe there.

"Merlin no, child," Severus said, his voice softening as he moved from the chair to Harry's side. Harry let out the breath he had been holding as Severus wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into his side. "You're never going back there. You hear me?"

Harry nodded, burying his face into his professor's shoulder. It was strange, but he missed the man's voluminous robes. They were perfect for hiding in. "But you're mad at me."

"I am not mad at you, Harry," Severus squeezed him. "I have a few things I need to take care of that have been at the forefront of my mind this morning, but it has nothing to do with anything you did."

"Then, can you stay?" he asked, clutching onto Snape's shirt with his right hand. He didn't want the man to leave him while he was undergoing chemotherapy. McGonagall was nice, but she didn't know how to take care of him or understand what he was going through.

"I must go, but I promise it'll only take a few hours at most. Once Miss Adamson hooks you back up and gives you your PCA, you'll likely sleep most of that time since you're not used to the morphine yet," Severus tried to reassure him and began to rub his back. Harry hadn't noticed how sore his back was until his professor's hands began loosening the built-up knots.

"What if he attacks again, and you're not here," Harry whispered, afraid the moment Severus left, Voldemort would attack his mind again. He wouldn't put it past the madman to attack again so soon after the last time, especially since Voldemort found out he still hadn't learned to defend himself.

"Minerva has a means to contact me, and I'll use my emergency portkey that the Headmaster gave me while I was spying. It takes me right to the Hospital Wing, and from there I can floo down. It won't take but a minute."

"Okay, but please be quick," Harry gave in.

"I shall do my best," Severus promised.

As if on cue, the Specialist knocked on the door and entered his room carrying a large bag. "Ready?" she asked with a bright smile on her face, her pink and white candy cane striped wand sticking out of the front pocket of her pants.

Nodding, Harry broke away from the Potions Master. He wasn't ready for more chemo, he'd never be, but if that's what it took to kill the cancer cells then Harry couldn't stand in the way of what was his best shot at survival.

-----

Once Harry was as comfortable as he could be and Minerva had returned and been given instructions, Severus forced himself away from Harry's room despite the pleading look on the boy's, his son's face. He needed to go to WCS, there were no other options and the sooner he found his answers, the better it would be for both of them. His actions earlier had demonstrated it needed to be done today. Severus couldn't allow Harry to think he had done something wrong, but until Severus figured out how Harry's paternity came to be, then he'd be too guarded around the boy, afraid he'd slip without the answers the boy would certainly ask.

But first, Severus had to make himself presentable. He was a Prince and as such needed to appear like he was the heir of a wealthy pureblood family if he was ever going to pull off his visit to WCS without raising suspicions. After a quick shower where he made sure to wash and condition his hair twice to make sure all the potions fumes were gone from his hair, Severus selected a designer pair of black pinstriped trousers and a light blue long-sleeved oxford. His mother insisted he looked good in pale blue, enough so that the shirt had been a present from her, and for once he was thankful he kept around the blue shirt that he wore only when he paid a visit to his parents. No one would suspect Severus Snape to wear a pale blue shirt.

The Slytherin slid his clothes on before kneeling down in front of his dresser. With a tap of his wand, the carved edging on the bottom of his dresser swung up, revealing the small hidden drawer. Severus pulled the drawer open, not remembering the last time he had a reason to open it. Inside, he kept a few valuable items, but mostly things he wished to keep secret, such as a small box that held photos of him and Lily, and the letters she had sent him when he was younger. However, the box wasn't what he was there for, and so he forced his hand to withdraw from sliding over the wooden box. Instead Severus reached for three smaller boxes before closing the drawer and reactivating its wards. He left the largest and slimmest of the three boxes on top of the dresser, but held on to the other two.

Taking the two velvet boxes into his bathroom and setting them down on his small vanity, Severus finished transforming himself into the Prince heir. He pulled his hair back into a low ponytail and cast a slight glamour to make the dark circles under his eyes disappear while letting down the glamour he always held up. It wasn't much of a glamour, his nose was the same size though it wasn't hooked and he didn't have as many wrinkles. His skin also had a healthier glow, not so pale. Yet, the small effects took ten years off his appearance, making him look only slightly older than his age rather than on par with his parents. Well, everything made him look younger except for that one strand of grey that stuck out like a sore thumb against his black hair.

Growling, Severus plucked the gray hair from his head, refusing to admit that he could already be showing the first signs of graying. He was thirty-six for Merlin's sake, not at all old by wizarding standards! Severus slid his glasses back onto his face. They'd work well to help cover up his dual identity.

Just a few more things left to convince the WCS staff that he was indeed the Prince heir. First, Severus opened up the small velvet box on the left. Inside was the platinum signet ring he received on his sixteenth birthday from his parents with the Prince seal etched on top. He slid the ring onto his left pinky finger. With his ring in place, Severus opened the second small box where a set of platinum cufflinks with the distinctive unicorn from the Prince seal resided. He secured them in the cuffs of his shirt before taking a final look in the mirror. His resemblance to the man everyone knew as Severus Snape was still there, but he hoped it was enough to fool a few witches and wizards at WCS.

Severus returned to his bedroom where he put on his boots and returned to his dresser to switch out his wands. The one he used on a daily basis he had bought the summer before his sixth year, needing a wand that was better tailored to his talents. That wand was registered to Severus Snape, and he couldn't have that on him when he entered the Ministry. However, the wand lying inside the slim box was registered to Severus Prince. It hadn't seen the horrors Severus faced as a spy, and he sometimes used it for brewing complicated potions where even the smallest tint of dark magic could cause the potion to explode. Severus swapped the wands, feeling the difference of the other wand in his hand before slipping it up his sleeve.

Retrieving his best cloak, the only thing left to do was tell Harry he was going. Severus waved his hand, temporarily returning the glamour to his face until he was off Hogwart's grounds. He left his room, warding the door on his way out. He didn't trust Albus to not go poking around in there either while he was gone.

The lights were dimmed low when Severus entered Harry's room. The boy was pale, but he was sleeping. "I'll be leaving now," he whispered to Minerva who looked up at him from her paperwork. "You know how to contact me should the need arise."

"Yes, get going," Minerva shooed him, returning to her paperwork. "I don't need another lecture over how to care for him."

Severus stole one last glance at his son before leaving the room hoping that when he returned he'd have all the answers he needed. 

It was raining in London when Severus apparated into a dark alley a few blocks from the red phone booth that served as an entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Scowling, Severus cast an impervious charm. He did not take the extra time to make himself presentable as the missing Prince heir for nothing. Severus strode down the street, avoiding the large puddles as much as possible despite the charm, anxious to get to his destination. Normally, the Potions Master hated going to the Ministry as it was filled with incompetent fools who only served to make his life more difficult, but this time was different. He hadn't felt this level of anxiousness upon approaching the Ministry since he took his Apparition test at seventeen.

Finally, the phone booth was within reach. Severus yanked the door open and slid inside before shutting it. He picked up the phone and spelled out magic with the keypad, thankful for the time spent with his aunt and uncle as a child. He had seen many a wizard or witch take five minutes to dial the phone, but for him, the task was as ordinary as flicking his wand.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business," the lady's voice filled the phone booth.

"Severus S-" he paused, stopping himself from giving the ingrained response. He certainly couldn't walk into WCS with a badge stating he was Severus Snape. "Severus Prince. I have business with Wizarding Child Services."

A moment later a silver name badge slid out of the coin return on the phone. He hung up the phone before grabbing the badge out of the slot, ignoring the lady's voice to keep it affixed to the front of his robes at all times. He knew the routine. Severus pinned the name badge to his light blue shirt. He had foregone robes to avoid any connection to the snarky Potions Master. The phone booth started its descent and moments later the door opened to reveal the busy Atrium.

This was it. By this same time tomorrow it was likely the whole wizarding world would know of the return of Severus Prince. WCS business was supposed to be kept confidential, but Severus knew that meant nothing, and even if the WCS workers managed to keep their mouths shut, his name would be listed in the Ministry visitors log. As much as the thought would've distressed him a month ago, Severus found himself more concerned with keeping his business for visiting the Ministry a secret for Harry's sake. It was his job to protect the child, now more than ever.

Severus wove his way through the crowded Atrium to security. The security guard looked bored and disinterested until he stepped up to the desk, the guard's eyes scanning his name badge. "Mr. Prince?" the man whispered in disbelief, his back straightening in his chair.

Nodding, he handed over his wand before the guard could ask him. "I do have other matters to attend to today," Severus implied, using the power the Prince name gave him. "I don't think I need to ask that this stay between us." The Slytherin raised an eyebrow as he slid ten galleons across the desk.

"Of course, sir," the guard handed Severus' wand back to him before pocketing the money.

Severus turned on his heel with his wand back in place and proceeded through the golden gates to the lifts. He boarded a lift with a crowd of other witches and wizards. Wishing to avoid the others as much as possible, Severus moved to the back of the lift where people were less likely to pay attention to him. Floor by floor witches and wizards got off until he was the only one left on the lift as it reached Level One.

It figured the WCS office was located on the highest floor along with the Minister of Magic's office. The Ministry could never do anything right. How practical was it to have the WCS office on the highest floor when most people visiting the office had children in tow? To make the parents and children ride all the way up to Level One was cruel and insane and not just for the visiting children. Severus could only imagine how many headaches screaming children over the years had caused. Surely, it would make more sense to move the WCS office to a space off the Atrium or even to Levels Seven or Six if space couldn't be found.

"Level One - The Minister of Magic's office including his secretaries and assistants and Department of Wizarding Child Services," the lady's voice from the phone booth said as the lift came to a stop.

Once the doors opened, Severus stepped out onto Level One. It was obvious which side of the floor belonged to WCS as the walls were enchanted with childish murals of animals in a jungle scene. The right side led straight to a desk where a young Auror, possibly one still in training sat guard.

Rolling his eyes at the lion that growled at him, Severus followed the jungle mural down the hallway to the WCS office. The door, which was included in the mural, was open and Severus took a deep breath before walking into the office. Harry's file was somewhere in this office and Severus was itching to get his hands on it, even though he was frightened by what the file could contain, though he'd never admit it.

A piece of parchment hit him on the head as he entered causing him to mumble a few choice words. He plucked the small scrap of parchment from his head where the number fourteen was scrawled upon it in precise writing.

"Please take a seat and wait for your number to be called. Wizarding Child Services apologizes for the wait and will be with you as quickly as we can. In an effort to ensure the brightest future possible for all wizarding children, please be patient," a friendly female voice emitted from the parchment.

Severus scowled. He didn't have time for this, but knew if he wanted to view Harry's file he must wait patiently or the witches at the counter who were currently busy with disgruntled parents would never allow him access to it. He would just have to suffer through the wait and hope it didn't take long. Severus needed to get back to Harry incase the side effects worsened or the Dark Lord tried to penetrate his mind again.

Without much of a choice, Severus peered around the waiting area, looking for a secluded spot away from unruly children. The waiting area was full of them along with their young parents. The young children, most appeared no more than six, ran up and down the rows of chairs screaming and yelling like it was a playground. Groaning, Severus walked to the back corner opposite of the door, which was somewhat childfree as a stern looking grandmother scared off all the young children with her glare as she held a sleeping newborn.

The Potions Master cast numerous cleansing and sterilization charms before sitting down, stretching out his long limbs. It wouldn't do to bring back whatever icky germs the children had left behind for Harry to contract with his compromised immune system.

"That's no way to raise a child," the grandmother mumbled under her breath, but he could tell the comment had been directed at him.

"Excuse me?" Severus glared at the women. How dare she comment on how he chose to raise his own child?

"I hope you don't insist on casting sterilization charms on everything before you let your child touch something," she stated, shaking her head. "It harms the child more than it helps them. If you clean everything the child never builds up basic immunities from the most common illnesses."

"My child," Severus hissed, his fingernails digging into his fists, "happens to be very ill, so ill that the common cold could kill him so excuse me if I wish to take the necessary precautions to ensure my child has a fighting chance to live."

The grandmother's mouth snapped shut, and she blushed before looking away. Severus growled, figuring it served her right. He didn't know where the protective feelings had come from or when they had started to materialize, but he would do all he could to protect Harry from the entire wizarding world if he had to for as long as Harry needed it.

"Number six," a witch called from the counter. Severus sighed. He had a long wait ahead of him.

-----

Ron and Ginny sat atop packed trunks in the living room of the Burrow. The family was moving to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place that afternoon as a safety precaution for at least the summer. The two youngest Weasleys were excused from helping the rest of the family pack as they were underage and couldn't use magic outside of school.

"It isn't fair," Ginny complained while she painted her fingernails a pale pink with Muggle nail polish Hermione had given her. "I don't see why we can't stay here. We just got home."

"I know, but Mum and Dad say it isn't safe," Ron fiddled with a loose string on his tee shirt. "Maybe we'll see Harry this way. Snape can't keep him in lessons all day, everyday."

"I'd hate to be Harry, stuck with the greasy git for the summer," Ginny shuddered as she moved on to paint the fingernails on her right hand.

"What is that stuff? It stinks!" Ron scrunched up his nose.

"Muggle nail polish. Hermione says Muggle girls use it all the time. I thought I'd give it a try," Ginny shrugged.

"Muggle girls must be crazy then to think anyone would want to be around them smelling like that!" Ron edged away from his sister as he waved his hand in front of his face.

"The smell goes away when it dries," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Has Harry written back to you yet?"

"No. I bet Snape hasn't even given Harry his mail."

"Isn't it curious though that Harry hasn't written to tell you his blood tests or whatever they were called, were mixed up?" Ginny pointed out.

"I guess so, but maybe that's why Dumbledore told Mum," Ron picked up the nail polish bottle from Ginny's trunk to examine it.

"I don't know. Mum's been acting weird since she returned. Do you think she's lying to us so we wouldn't worry?" she said, reaching down to dip the brush back into the bottle, only to find it missing. "Ron, I'm not finished with that!"

"Sorry," Ron set the bottle back down. "You're right, but I doubt we'll know anything until we see Harry. Mum and Dad seem to be telling us less and less." Ron sighed as blew his bangs away from his eyes. His mum had been threatening to cut his hair, but so far he had successfully avoided her and her scissors.

"I hope Snape lets Harry visit us soon. I don't like what's going on," Ginny twisted the nail polish bottle shut.

"Me neither. Something isn't right." Ron and Ginny shared a look, a look that said they agreed that something was going on with their friend, but were helpless to do anything about it. Instead of dwelling on it, the two siblings moved over to the chess set to play a lazy game as they waited for the rest of the family to be ready to leave.

-----

At a gentle shake to his shoulder, Severus startled awake and fell off his chair as he reached for his wand. He landed tangled up on the germ-infested carpet with his wand pointed at the elderly witch.

"Son, I'm sorry to startle you, but your number was just called," she tilted her head towards the counter with her free hand held out to him.

Right. He's must've dozed off while waiting for his number to be called. It was uncharacteristically negligent of him, but he was so tired. Minerva had been right in thinking he needed a break to sleep, but he couldn't, not while his mind demanded answers.

"Thank you," Severus recovered, taking the grandmother's hand to help him off the floor. He gave her a polite nod before heading to the counter, his apprehension and anxiety growing with each step.

"May I help you?" a young witch smiled up at him as he approached the counter.

"Yes. I'd like to view my son's file," he forced out, unable to keep his voice steady. Although he had snapped at the grandmother and referred to Harry as his son in his comments to her, this was different. The witch was a Ministry official, and it made it sound all the more real.

"Of course. Your son's name?" she asked while dipping her quill into a black inkwell.

"Har-, Hadrian Prince."

The witch's quill fell from her hand, her eyes wide. "Please follow me, Mr. Prince," she choked out after reading his name badge.

Severus followed her to a small cramped office. "Please take a seat. My supervisor will be with you in a moment," the witch motioned for him to sit down in the chair in front of the desk. "We're awfully sorry for making you wait, Mr. Prince. If we'd known, we would've helped you sooner."

"It is fine, but please tell your supervisor that my time is limited," he said as he sat down in the cushy chair.

"I will," the witch nodded from the doorway. She disappeared to presumably find her supervisor giving Severus a few minutes to look around the quaint office.

Moving pictures of various children were stuck onto one wall; each child was smiling, some even waved to him. The opposite wall was black by what appeared to be some kind of blackboard paint or adhesive.  Chalk drawings littered the wall, ranging from stick figures and scribbles to detailed drawings. It was clearly an office which children frequented as even the desk was covered in colorful handprints.

"Mr. Prince?" a smiling woman, who appeared to be around the same age as he was, questioned as she walked into the office. What was with all the smiles? Were the WCS workers really that happy to be working there? Between their smiles and the colorful juvenile decorations, Severus thought he'd go insane before he ever got to read Harry's file.

"Yes," he nodded. "And you are?"

"Althea Kingston, Head of WCS." Severus shook her outstretched hand before she took a seat behind the desk. "What brings you here today?"

"I wish to view my child's file," Severus repeated. How many times was he going to have to reiterate his intentions? "Is there a problem?"

"You must understand, here at WCS our mission is to protect innocent children. There are necessary safeguards in place before any adult is allowed to view their child's file, especially when the file in question is sealed as you know," Althea explained while digging out a form from her desk.

"What do I need to do?" the Potions Master asked, starting to become desperate, though he refused to show it.

"I need you to fill out this form," she set the form and never-out quill in front of him. "The bottom half of the form is a consent form allowing me to test your magical signature against your identify. I'll also need to see a proper form of identification, and if everything checks out, then you'll be able to view your son's file."

Nodding, Severus filled in the form as quickly as his fingers allowed him to write. He passed the form back to her, and she took a minute to look over it before taking out her wand and scanning his magical signature. The Potions Master watched her scribble something onto the form with trepidation. Had he been found out?

Severus had learned long ago how to limit the flow of his magic into his magical signature, which allowed him to effectively have two magical signatures; one at his full power level for Severus Prince, and a weaker one for Severus Snape. That small bit of magical theory he had stumbled upon while researching his seventh year Potions project had been one of the many things that together had helped to let him live his dual life.

"May I see your apparition license or Ministry issued identification card?" Althea asked, flicking her wand over the form. It glowed and spun around numerous times before floating back down to the desk, indicating a match between his stated identification and magical signature.

"Of course," Severus fished out his apparition license and handed it over. She glanced over it, returning it to him as she stood from her desk. "Come. I'll escort you to the file viewing room."

Pocketing his apparition license, Severus followed her down the hall to another small room with trembling hands. He was really going to view Harry's, his son's file and finally receive the answers he so desperately needed.

The room was bare with a high table set in the middle. Severus watched as the Department Head walked over to a wall and tapped the bricks with her wand. Part of the wall swung open and she disappeared through the opening, bringing out Harry's file a few minutes later.

"Here," she said, lying a dusty locked box on the table. "Take as much time as you need. When you're finished, alert the clerk across the hall and she'll come find me."

"Thank you," Severus whispered, staring at his son's name written on the side of the box.

"You're welcome," Althea smiled and turned to go. "Oh, and Mr. Prince," she looked back towards him. "Welcome back to the wizarding world."

Severus swallowed hard once he heard the door click close behind him. The box screamed at him to be opened, yet at the same time, the small box intimidated him more than the Dark Lord ever had. Was it the right thing to do? What if after he found his answers and told Harry, the boy rejected him? Severus didn't know if he could continue caring for the child if that happened. He didn't know how it was possible, but the idea that Harry was his son was becoming more and more appealing.

He had already been growing fond of the sick child before he had opened that letter from WCS. Despite their previous animosities and perhaps through them, Severus saw shades of himself in the boy, and he wished to steer Harry away from becoming like him. It wouldn't be surprising if Harry were to turn cold and detached after so many adults had failed him. Yet, Harry had Lily's resiliency, and after everything the child had been through he still displayed the capacity to love and forgive. 

It had surprised Severus how attached the boy had become to him so quickly. Harry's actions spoke volumes concerning the care he had received from his Muggle relatives. Severus was determined to speak with Harry concerning his relatives, if only to help the boy realize none of it had been his fault. It was important for the child's wellbeing to be able to put his past behind him if were to become a happy, well-adjusted young adult.

But all of Severus' thoughts were for naught if he couldn't bring himself to open the box. He had been expecting a dusty warded file not a locked box that looked like it hadn't been open since Harry was born. How was he supposed to open it anyway? An Alohomora wouldn't do the trick. That simple spell wouldn't keep anyone out of Harry's file.

Taking a step closer to the table, The Potions Master blew away the dust from atop the box. He ran his fingers along Harry's apparent name. Hadrian Pax Alexander Prince. It didn't surprise him that Harry wasn't Harry's legal name. Lily was too smart to saddle her son with a childish nickname for his entire life. Harry was an unusual nickname for Hadrian, yet Severus scolded himself for not noticing how similar the two names were. Hadrian was one of his middle names for Merlin's sake. Perhaps if he hadn't been so blinded by Harry's resemblance to James, he would've figured out the clues long before receiving the letter from WCS.

As his finger traced over the last letter of Prince, the lock clicked open, the sudden noise causing Severus to jump back. He rolled his eyes at himself. After so many years as a successful spy, he was caught off guard by a lock clicking open? But this was more than just a lock clicking open. The box potentially contained an alternate history compared to what everyone believed.

With shaking hands, Severus lifted the lid of the wooden box, its hinges squeaking in protest after being closed for more than a decade to reveal a pile of parchment. A row of phials lined the bottom edge, each one filled with a silvery mist that could only contain collected memories.

So an Obliviate had been involved then. That made sense considering Severus couldn't recollect ever having intimate relations with Lily, but who had done the obliviating and why?

Severus reached for the top piece of parchment, Harry's official birth certificate. Harry's real name, the one on the box and in the letter was written on the first line. That much didn't surprise him, but his own spidery handwriting did. He glanced down the sheet of parchment. He had filled out every line except for Lily's signature at the bottom. It comforted him that he was present at his son's birth, even if he couldn't remember it. It meant that Harry's conception wasn't the result of a one-night stand that ended in Lily obliviating him.

After noting his son was born at 4:14 AM, Severus gently set aside the birth certificate in order to see what the other parchments contained. A letter with a red heart seal stood out to Severus. He turned it over and sure enough Lily's flowing script had written his name on the front. Severus broke the seal, bracing himself for what the letter contained.

My Dearest Severus,

Either congratulations are in order for the final defeat of Voldemort, or our son is dead or dying. I only hope it's the first and not the second. You insisted I didn't leave you any clues pertaining to our little Hadrian's parentage, but I couldn't follow your orders. I hope I'm forgiven as even this letter violates that.

It must come as a surprise to you that Harry as James and I have come to call him, is your son. I assure you nothing untoward happened. Right after James and I married, he was sent away on his first month long Auror assignment. By that time you and James had reconciled at my insistence since I couldn't stand to lose either of you. Yes, I know it's hard for you to believe, but you and James really were civil to one another.

Of course you know of the war progression at that time. Voldemort was gaining ground and his assignments for you were growing darker and darker. One night right before James left, you came to me in the middle of the night after returning from a Death Eater meeting. You had just seen Voldemort and his most trusted Death Eaters rape, torture, and kill a Muggle girl who was no older than fifteen. It disgusted you, yet you stayed at the meeting to ensure your cover wasn't blown, but I know how much it must've affected you. You have a heart, no matter how much you try to deny it, my Severus. You were a mess and were sure you wouldn't be able to stand another meeting like that one without getting killed.

I stayed up with you all night talking, as I knew if I sent you home to sleep, you'd be haunted by nightmares. Surprisingly, the one thing you regretted not experiencing before dying was raising a child. I know it may sound crazy to you now, but I assure you, you wanted a child more than anything in the world. I think you wanted your own son or daughter to cherish and experience the perfect childhood, unlike the unconventional and at times neglectful childhood that you endured between your parents and aunt and uncle.

My heart broke for you as you talked about teaching your child to brew before he could walk and sending him off to Hogwarts with hopes of him becoming a Ravenclaw as you said Gryffindors and Slytherins get into too much trouble.

I wanted to give you, my closest and dearest friend, that dream. After everything you had gone through and everything that promised you'd have to go through, I wanted to give you something to look forward to, a reason to live, but I was already wedded to James.

However, James surprised us both that morning. He had overheard our conversation and handed you the keys to a family cottage in the Welsh Highlands that to this day remains protected by the Fidelius charm with instructions to keep me safe while he was gone and permission to do as we wish. James was confident that my heart would always belong to him, but understood our very close friendship for what it was. I've always loved you, but our love for each other is based on friendship and perhaps a bit of attraction. You've always been handsome under those glamours you insist on holding up.

So with James' permission, you and I traveled to the charming cottage for a month where I was able to give you your dream. You were so ecstatic three weeks into our stay to discover I was pregnant with your child, as the child from the beginning would always be yours. It was understood that while James and I would watch over the child while you were working or called away, the child would be exclusively yours. I was just a necessary surrogate for you child.

Nine months later, I handed your healthy newborn over to you. I had never seen you smile as much as you did when Hadrian was placed in your arms. He had your dark hair and many of your distinctive facial features, but my nose. Hadrian was beautiful, and while it was hard for me to see you go home with the child I carried, I knew you'd make a wonderful father.

Hadrian became the focus of your life. You didn't even mind him waking you up numerous times a night as a newborn. Those eleven precious months you had with your son were amazing to watch. Fatherhood came natural to you and everyday Hadrian looked more and more like you. He had even mastered the infamous Severus glare before you could teach him to walk.

But as all happy things in your life seem to be, your time with Hadrian was limited. As Hadrian started taking his first steps and calling you dada, Voldemort grew more and more suspicious. You had kept your son hidden from the world, so Voldemort never knew of him. You were afraid not only because of the prophecy, but of what he'd ask pertaining to your child. He had already made Lucius Malfoy promise that his son would grow up to be a loyal Death Eater, and you'd never be able to make that promise.

Your fear for your child was your undoing, I'm afraid. A month before Hadrian's first birthday as we were preparing to go into hiding, you came to James and I once again, this time as a terrified father. You begged us to take Hadrian and obliviate you, but I couldn't. I just couldn't do that you, Severus. Not after seeing how happy Hadrian had made you. So you left, but it wasn't the last time I saw you before we went into hiding.

A week later you came back with Hadrian and all of his things. I knew from the moment I saw you that that was it. James and I were about to become full-time parents. Earlier in the day you had visited Professor Dumbledore, as he became somewhat of a mentor to you and had promised you a job once you had finished your training to become a Potions Master. I still don't know how you managed it, but you got Albus Dumbledore to swear the Unbreakable Vow to you. He vowed never to reveal Hadrian's true parentage to you unless Voldemort was dead or Hadrian died or was dying. Professor McGonagall served as the bonder and was obliviated right after.

I had never seen you as determined as you were that night. James took Hadrian while I tried to convince you that there had to be some other way. I believed then, and I still do that Hadrian was better off with you, but you're a very stubborn man. I couldn't change your mind, no matter how hard I tried.

There was nothing I could do but give up. I promised you I'd take care of our son, and James agreed to care for Hadrian as if he were his own. You put Hadrian to bed for the night in the small nursery we had set up for when you were called to Death Eater meetings before you came downstairs and proceeded to obliviate yourself.

I don't know how you did it, but somehow you managed to only erase the memories of Hadrian, and everything else was left in tact. You emerged from your trance with renewed hatred for James and proceeded to verbally assault him before leaving us with a crying baby boy who wanted no one but his dada.

It took a few days for James and Albus to alter everyone's memories, including Sirius, Remus, and Peter, so that Hadrian, now Harry was believed to be James' son.

I spent those days brewing an ancient potion that allowed Harry to look like James. It was successful as I'm sure you've noticed. I couldn't brew it without leaving some clues for you, so when we met for our last lunch before James and I went into hiding I gave you a final letter and told you to hold onto it. On the surface the letter read like a farewell, but it's actually the antidote to the potion Harry consumed. It's charmed to reveal the recipe upon dropping two drops of your blood onto it. I really hope you still have it. If not, ask the Headmaster about it. He helped me find the potion, and since you now know Harry is your son, the Vow is no longer in effect.

I'm so sorry for the time you've lost with your son. I hope it isn't too late for you two to reform the bond you had when he was a baby. You still retain full parental rights concerning our son. I never had the heart to change it. James and I never even changed Harry's name legally with hope that soon Voldemort will be defeated, and you can have your son back. We are very thankful you trust us with him, but Hadrian is and will always be your son.

Love,

Lily

P.S.: The phials contain memories you stored before obliviating yourself. I also knew WCS would be one of the first places you looked in search of answers and that's why I've chosen to leave this and other evidence there for you.

Severus dropped the letter faster than if it were burning him upon reaching the end. He was in shock; he couldn't believe what his reckless twenty-one year old self had done. It was more than irresponsible and how could he ever forgive himself for giving up his own son?  

Harry struggled to focus on his Transfiguration text, his mind scattering all over the place. McGonagall had pointed out the important sections for reference to his summer essay, but he felt like he hadn't comprehended one sentence of it. Plus, it was his first week of summer after his O.W.L. year. Surely, that meant he deserved a break.

"This is pointless," Harry sighed, tossing his text to the side.

"I assure you the assignment isn't pointless if you wish to learn if you possess the ability to become an Animagus," McGonagall said, picking up the text from where it lay open, flipped awkwardly against the bed. "Destroying your textbook isn't going to help

"Sorry. I just can't concentrate," Harry laid down, facing away from his professor. She had insisted, more like demanded, he eat more than a few spoonfuls of oatmeal, which of course just came back up less than an hour later, and then proceeded to give him the last Transfigurations lecture he had missed since he had been in the Hospital Wing. While he appreciated her help, Harry just wasn't up to concentrating on anything. His head hurt from Voldemort's attack and the pain meds worked to take away the worst of the pain, but still left a lingering headache for him to deal with. On top of that he was still battling the constant nausea that refused to lessen, and he couldn't find a comfortable position no matter how much he tossed and turned.

Harry reached behind him for the button attached to the PCA pump as his pain started to increase. Breathing through the oncoming pain escalation, he pressed the button down, releasing another boost of morphine into his body. He hated how often he was relying on that button, as the baseline dosage Miss Adamson assigned the pump to release every four hours wasn't cutting it.

"Is there anything I can do for you," McGonagall asked, her hand rubbing his back. Her fingers rubbed against bone that a layer of lean muscle covered a month ago. He despised reminders of his physical state, how much he had let himself go after Sirius' death. It brought to mind how he normally looked at the end of a summer spent with the Dursleys, but he knew he was even more skeletal now.

"No," he pulled the duvet up to create a thicker layer between his back and his professor's hand. Severus' touch against his back was lighter and more comforting, only pressing down to work out a knot. "When will Severus be back?"

"I'm not sure. He said he'd back in a few hours, so that should be soon," she said, her voice taking on an offended tone. Harry knew he should respond, but he didn't have the energy, not to mention he did wish Severus were the one sitting with him at that moment. He was tired, but he refused to fall asleep again until the Potions Master returned, afraid that Voldemort would try to attack or send him a vision in his dreams.

-----

After gaining permission from Althea Kingston, Severus left the Ministry with the wooden box held safely in his arms. He still couldn't believe the contents of Lily's letter. How had he not realized he'd been obliviated, or rather that he'd obliviated himself? He regularly scanned his mind to check for signs of an obliviation, but he had never even suspected he had missed one.

How was he going to tell Harry? He felt horribly guilty, guiltier than he had ever felt in his life. Severus couldn't believe he had willingly given up his son, the child that Lily and James had gifted him with. His guilt only compounded as he realized what that one decision caused for Harry. His son had suffered through life as an unwanted orphan, raised by neglectful, if not abusive relatives. Merlin, would Harry think Severus hadn't wanted him? The last thing he wanted the child to think was that he was unwanted or the result of an accident.

Would Harry even be happy to hear his biological father was alive, and that he, the acerbic Potions Master was his father? Severus knew he wasn't the most approachable or affectionate person. He could even admit that he was a right bastard when he wished to be. Would that be someone Harry wanted as a father? He couldn't change who he was, not entirely. He'd been through too much for that. And Harry was almost sixteen. In a year, the boy would be legal in the wizarding world. Was it too late for him to want and need a father?

But Severus knew all those questions were for nothing if Harry didn't survive his battle with leukemia. The chances were overwhelmingly in Harry's favor, yet odds didn't apply to his child. Lily and James had sacrificed too much for a child that wasn't meant to be theirs for Harry to die now. But maybe this latest revelation was much more than a surprise, but a means of survival for his son. If Harry didn't achieve a remission or relapsed, they'd have to consider a bone marrow transplant, and his son's odds of having a matching donor just went up. Even better, Severus was the child's father, making the odds that their blood and magic matched even better, unlike the Muggle world where a sibling was the best chance. There was an equal chance the boy took after his mother's side in both blood and magic, however, and Severus hoped they didn't have to explore the option of asking those Muggle relatives to get tested. Better yet, he hoped Harry never needed a bone marrow transplant.

After apparating back to Hogwarts' gates and replacing his glamours, the Potions Master walked up to the Hospital Wing instead of straight to his quarters, just in case. Severus had to know if he was a match or not. If he wasn't, he'd find someone magical who was even if he had to resort to the use of the Imperius curse to convince people to get tested. There wouldn't be a question if they could find a match when and if it came time for Harry to need a transplant, not if Severus had anything to do with it.

"Poppy!" he called out as he entered the Hospital Wing pocketing his glasses before she could insist on checking his eyes.

"Severus?" she questioned while she walked out of her office. "Is something wrong with Harry"

"No," he shook his head. Severus rolled up his right shirtsleeve once he placed the box down. "I need you to draw a blood sample. I want it sent to St. Mungo's to check if I'm a match."

"But it's unlikely Harry will need a bone marrow transplant, and even unlikelier that you're a match," Poppy said, not budging to go retrieve the necessary supplies.

"I don't care! Just do it!" Severus snapped, striding over to Poppy's supply cabinet to retrieve the proper kit. He was going to do this whether Poppy helped or not. "Are you going to help, or are you going to stand there and watch while I try to draw blood with my left hand?"

"Sit down," she pushed down onto the nearest bed while grabbing the kit from his hand.

"Don't forget to use non-latex gloves," Severus said to her as he watched her retreat to the sink to wash her hands. The last thing he needed was for latex remnants to remain on his skin, waiting to come into contact with Harry.

"I've banished all the latex ones." Poppy proceeded to wash her hands and put on a set of gloves while Severus used an alcohol pad on the inside of his right arm near his elbow. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

"Yes," Severus scowled as Poppy tied the tourniquet tightly around his arm. The Meditwitch wasn't very skilled when it came to drawing blood since she rarely had the reason to collect blood samples.

"Ready?" she asked, taking a hold of his arm with her left hand while bringing the needle close with her right.

"I'm not five," he reminded her as he braced himself for the slight pinch, only Poppy's slight pinch felt like a knife stabbing into his arm. It took all he had to not pull his arm away, thanking himself endlessly that he had insisted on drawing Harry's blood, even when he didn't like the child. This was torture compared to what drawing blood should feel like. "Poppy," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Sorry," Poppy withdrew the needle. "I missed your vein."

"Hand me the needle," Severus demanded. Poppy placed a new needle into his hand. "Hold my arm steady and be ready with the collection phials.

Severus carefully pressed the needle into a vein, relaxing at the small pinch before letting Poppy collect three phials of blood. Then, he withdrew the needle and held a pad of gauze to his arm until Poppy pushed his hand away to properly heal it with a simple spell.

"Thank you," Severus said as he rolled down his sleeve. "I expect this will be kept between us," he glared at her, not yet forgiving her for telling Harry's friends.

"Yes," she nodded with her eyes averted.

"Good. Let me know when the results come back," he hopped up from the hospital bed, feeling like he had done something to help his son as he picked up the wooden box and left the Hospital Wing to return to his quarters and Harry.

-----

Harry fought to keep his eyes open. Miss Adamson had come to change his chemo bag, and upped his morphine dosage so that he was finally pain free. He felt like he was almost floating, amazed by much better he felt. If speaking up about his pain meant this as a result, Harry would never deny he was in pain ever again. The morphine was working so well that he didn't even feel the low-level constant burning from his scar that had remained since Voldemort possessed him at the Ministry.

"Harry," Severus whispered as he felt the man place the back of his shaking hand across his forehead to check for fever.

"Hmm?" he questioned, ready to allow himself to sleep now that Severus was back.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good, tired," Harry murmured while his eyelids drooped close.

"Go ahead and sleep." He heard the Potions Master let out a weird sounding chuckle as he slipped into dreams, succumbing to a promising chance for several hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Harry didn't know how long he slept, but when he woke up he felt well rested for a change.  His limbs didn't feel as heavy, and his mind wasn't trying to run off in ten directions at once. Stretching, Harry wondered where Severus had gone. It was the first time he had woken up without the man by his bedside since starting chemo. He put his glasses on and slid out of bed before wrapping his hand around the cold metal pole of the infusion pump to push it into the bathroom ahead of him.

After thoroughly washing his hands and splashing warm water on his face to get rid of the crusty eye junk that had accumulated on his eyelids, Harry returned to his bed. He was determined to get a start on his summer homework while he could think clearly. Despite hating homework, Harry didn't want to fall behind his classmates and knew that Snape's suggestion of starting his Sixth Year coursework early was a sound idea.

As he began to open his Transfiguration text to the first page McGonagall had marked for him, Harry caught a large navy blue blob out of the corner of his eye. He looked over to the chaise lounge to see his professor curled up fast asleep. Harry smiled and returned to his text to read about basic human transfigurations, leaving the Potions Master to catch up on his rest.

Two feet into his essay Harry heard his professor start to stir. He ignored the noises, hoping he'd finish the last foot of his essay before his attention waned. He just had one more point to argue before scribbling down a conclusion, and then he could check off one subject as done.

"What are you working on?" Severus asked a few minutes later as Harry felt the bed dip.

"Transfiguration," Harry mumbled, not even bothering to look up. He was too close to finishing his conclusion for his concentration to break. Scribbling down the last few sentences before he could forget them, Harry smiled as he wrote the last period to end his essay. "Done," he said looking up at the Potions Master.

"May I look over it before you hand it in?" Severus asked.

Harry blinked. "Uh, yeah, just please try not to mark it up as much as you do my Potions essays," he stumbled over his words, not believing he was voluntarily giving an essay to Hogwarts' harshest grader to look over.

"I'll try," Severus smirked as he handed over the essay to his professor.

"You're wearing blue?" Harry blurted out upon realizing the oddity of seeing his professor in any color other than black or white.

"I do own other color clothing besides black," the Potions Master quirked up one eyebrow, "or does that knowledge nullify the rumor that I'm really a vampire?"

"Professor," Harry rolled his eyes, "I never believed you were a vampire."

"It's Severus, and are you sure? Not even as a first year?"

"Okay, maybe for my first month at Hogwarts, but it was mostly Fred's and George's fault," he confessed pulling up his duvet to hide behind it.

"Did I not eat at the Welcoming Feast?" Severus tugged the duvet from his grasp.

"Well, I was eleven. It's not like I was the smartest person back then," Harry tried to defend himself though he couldn't stop blushing from embarrassment. Really, now that he thought about it, the rumors that Severus was a vampire were rather silly.

"Indeed you weren't, though it was no fault of your own since eleven year-olds shouldn't know everything." Severus reached over to pull the hood of his hoodie up over his head, extending it over his eyes. "Come, let's use this sudden burst of energy you have to procure something to eat."

"Ugh," Harry sighed. "Do we have to?" His nausea was a constant reminder that food wasn't a good idea, no matter how good he might be feeling compared to earlier.

"Yes. I'm sure we can manage to find something that doesn't absolutely disgust you. Bring your wand, we'll work on your magic at the same time," Snape said as he stood up from Harry's bed.

"Fine, but I'm not sure we'll find anything," he grabbed his wand and shoved it in the front pocket of his hoodie before standing up and following his professor into the kitchen.

-----

After a light dinner of rather burnt toast and applesauce for Harry, and soup and salad for himself, they retreated to the sitting room to play a game of chess before he needed to leave to attend the Order meeting. "We'll need to address your toasting skills at some point," Severus smirked as he levitated the chessboard over to the coffee table.

Harry rolled his eyes, his hands busy with petting a purring Flurry as she lay in his lap. "What if I wanted my toast burnt?"

"Then you're certainly adept at that. White or black?"

"White. I need all the help I can get," Harry confessed.

Severus watched Harry contemplate his first move. It was so weird to be in the same room as his son, teasing the boy over his overenthusiastic toasting spell. Would this be how it was once Harry got over the initial shock of him being his father? This felt comfortable and strangely natural like a part of him remembered being a parent.

It was amazing how quick he was warming up to the idea that Harry was his child. Perhaps knowing the truth had somehow weakened the obliviation, or he was processing his feelings correctly for the first time. Since he spotted the tiny eleven year-old walking into Hogwarts' Great Hall, he felt strong feelings towards the boy. Had his brain been misinterpreting his feelings by drawing on his constructed hate for James? An Obliviate could only do so much. It erased the chosen memories, but there was no concrete evidence showing how an Obliviate affected one's emotions, if the spell even modified them at all.

Severus had contemplated telling Harry right away upon his return, but the child's body had demanded rest, and it gave time for Severus to catch up on his own sleep. It was too late now since he didn't wish to leave in the middle of any questions Harry might have, and part of him didn't want to put a damper on Harry's improved mood.

"Sir, it's your turn," Harry said, breaking through his thoughts. He had to hide a grimace. Sir sounded more offending than ever coming from his son's mouth. Severus needed to break the child of that habit soon. He wouldn't have any child of his referring to him as sir. It sounded cold and formal, perfect for dunderheaded students, but not his child.

The Potions Master moved a pawn forward. "The Headmaster has called an Order meeting tonight," Severus broached the subject, hating the way the topic made Harry frown.

"Does that mean you're going?" Harry sighed.

"If I didn't think I needed to attend, I wouldn't, but I'm sure many things of importance will be discussed tonight," Severus explained, his statement purposely vague. That night's Order meeting would be the first full meeting since Black's death, and he had no intention of missing a meeting where Albus might discuss his plans for Harry, plans that Severus apparently always had power to veto, and he had no qualms over speaking up against the Headmaster now. In fact, he looked forward to shocking the man and messing up his real-life chessboard.

"Is everyone going to be there? I mean-"

"You won't be left alone," Severus cut the boy off before he could finish. He knew it must be hard for the teenager to admit he didn't want to be left alone, especially since teenagers were all about gaining their freedom. "I actually wanted to ask you who you'd like to visit with you. The Weasleys are residing at Grimmauld Place, so if you'd like I could have the two youngest Weasleys floo here."

"I don't know," Harry trailed off. "I'm sure Ginny knows by now, but I don't know how they'll react to this," he motioned towards his chest and the pump, "and I don't know if I want them to see me like this."

"They're your friends, they won't care," Severus reminded his son, wishing he could help the boy overcome whatever fear and apprehension he was having towards his friends. His child needed them whether Severus wished to have Gryffindors invading his quarters or not.

"Please," Harry pleaded, their chess game all but forgotten.

"Of course. It was merely a suggestion," he said, his brain working to find another option Harry would be receptive to. "Would Mrs. Weasley be agreeable to you? I'm actually rather surprised she hasn't stormed my door demanding to see you yet."

Severus knew Molly would miss the Order meeting to visit with Harry in a heartbeat after seeing her nearly smother the boy with attention before a couple of the Order meetings last summer. Plus, it wasn't necessary for her to personally be at the meeting since Arthur or one of her older sons, not including the prankster twins, could be trusted to relay the prevalent information to her after the meeting concluded.

"Would you speak with her first?" Harry asked, twirling a pawn on the coffee table.

"Is that code for asking me to withstand her wrath before letting her in to see you?" Severus didn't need to use Legilimency to read Harry's apprehension over allowing Mrs. Weasley to visit with him. He had seen the Weasley children receive enough howlers over the years to know of Molly's infamous tirades and fiery outbursts.

"Uh, maybe?"

"Fine, but if I have to face her, you have to face your grade report," Severus tapped the untouched envelope that hadn't moved from the coffee table since Harry set it down there when Minerva gave it to him.

"Right now?" the boy eyed the envelope with fear. Had the child been doing poorly in his classes? Severus hadn't heard any of the staff discussing slipping or poor grades in regards to Harry. He thought Potions was the boy's worst subject, and Harry had managed to pull his grade up to an Acceptable with his end of term exam. Maybe he was wrong and just tuned out after hearing Harry's name, though it may be more likely the rest of the staff hadn't mentioned it while Umbridge was around.

"Tomorrow. It'll probably be too late when I return, and if I'm to face Mrs. Weasley's wrath, I should ask her to come now, so I won't be late to the meeting," he said after casting a Tempus charm. He couldn't believe he was willingly putting himself in this situation. Severus didn't desire being yelled at; he was the one who was supposed to do the yelling today. However, if he could save Harry from her fiery outburst and warn her so she'd be prepared to seeing him hooked up to various medications and chemotherapy, it would be worth it. Not to mention their agreement would get Harry to open up his grade report, so he and the boy could start discussing his preliminary class options for the next school term.

"Okay," Harry agreed, standing up from the couch.

"I suppose you're going to hide until Mrs. Weasley calms down," Severus smirked.

"That would be the idea," Harry nodded and started to make his way to his bedroom, infusion pump rolling along in front of him.

"And they call you a Gryffindor," Severus called after the child, lifting up his glass of water. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a Slytherin."

"The Hat tried to place me there," Harry called back, his amused voice echoing off the stone walls.

"What?" he choked on his water. Harry was almost a Slytherin? It made some sense knowing Harry was his son, but the boy was the ultimate Gryffindor, always running off to perform outrageous displays of magic while endangering his own life without thinking of the consequences beforehand. Then again, Severus considered the action he had taken at twenty-one, the action of giving up his own child more reckless and outrageous than any action a Gryffindor could ever think of doing, and the Sorting Hat hadn't even considered putting him into Gryffindor.

After quickly changing into his normal intimidating attire complete with billowing robes, Severus walked to his floo and adjusted the wards to temporarily allow connections to and from Grimmauld Place. He then threw a pinch of green glittery floo powder down and sunk to his knees, placing his head into the flames.

"Molly," Severus called out to the abandoned room, well what appeared abandoned until his eyes spotted Lupin sprawled out across a sofa with his arm hanging off the edge, an empty bottle of Firewhiskey in hand, his shabby clothes camouflaged against the sofa's worn fabric

"Lupin," he seethed, trying to wake the wolf though when Lupin didn't stir, Severus knew it was no use trying again. The wolf was passed out and right in front of the floo, a display considered most uncouth in wizarding society.

"Professor?" Miss Weasley asked, edging into the room.

"Please go retrieve your mother for me. I wish to speak with her," Severus snapped, his patience lost after spotting the wolf.

"Yes, sir," Miss Weasley ran out of the room.

Severus shifted on his knees, reminding himself that he needed to invest in a thick hearthrug as the stone floor dug into his kneecaps.

"Did you need me, Severus?" Molly walked into the room, a pile of folded towels balanced in her hands. "We're just getting settled in. If you wish to send Harry over early, he's more than welcome."

"Could you please floo over? I need to speak with you in private," he answered, wondering what her statement meant. Did she not realize how ill Harry was or was something else going on?

"Of course. Just give me a moment," Molly nodded, concern written across her face.

"Thank you," Severus said before pulling his head from the flames and standing up to straighten and smooth out his robes. He walked over to the sink to wash his hands even though his head had been the only thing that went into the flames.

As promised, a few moments later Molly stepped out of his floo. "Is this about Ron's grade? He insists he lost his grade report though I know he's just hiding it."

"No, if you'd wash your hands at the sink we'll proceed into my quarters where we can sit down," Severus motioned to the sink, noticing Molly's puzzled look.

"Wash my hands? Whatever for?" she turned to look at him, hand on her hip. "I know Grimmauld Place isn't the cleanest place in London, but it's not nearly as bad as last summer."

"Please, for Harry's sake," Severus took a deep breath, wondering how disastrous his next statement would prove to be, yet he knew if he didn't tell Molly the truth they'd be arguing over the point until one of them finally gave in. "His cancer-"

"What?" Mrs. Weasley roared, her face reddening to match her hair.

Biting his bottom lip to prevent himself from yelling at the raging witch, Severus forced himself to take a deep breath while Molly Weasley screamed at him, her hands flying every which way.

"What do you mean Harry has cancer?" she screeched, her eyes searching for the door. "Where is he?"

"Molly," Severus said calmly as he flicked his wand towards the door. "Calm down-"

"Calm down? I cannot calm down!" Molly darted over to the door. She turned the knob only to find it locked. "Unward this door now, Severus Snape!"

"Not until you calm down," he reasoned. Severus didn't want Molly storming in to see Harry. It was hard enough to get the boy to agree to see someone who he considered part of his pseudo-family, and he didn't want the experience to scare or worry Harry away from seeing his friends further.

"Severus! Let me see the poor child. He must be so scared especially kept away from his family like this," Molly turned to glare at him, an accusatory finger pointed at him.

"He's not your son," Severus growled, his patience fading with every word Molly screeched.

"He's as good as," Molly claimed as she placed her hand on her hip. 

"No, he's not," he repeated wishing to scream out that Harry was his son. "Do not make me repeat myself again. If you wish to see Harry, you will calm down, wash your hands, and listen to what I have to say before you rush off to coddle him."

Severus watched Molly huff, but she went over to the sink and washed her hands. He made sure she had followed the posted instructions before leading her into his sitting room and motioning for her to take a seat in the chair opposite his.

"I am not your student, Severus," she accused, refusing to take a seat, "and I will not be treated as such. Now tell me about Harry. I've followed your silly rules."

"Molly, please sit," he tried to placate her, wondering what he had been thinking by deciding to ask her to stay with Harry. If he could just rein in his temper, perhaps she'd rein in hers as well. He watched her eye the hallway and slid his wand into his hand, just in case.

"Where's Harry?"

"In his room," Severus said, leaving out the fact that the boy was most likely listening at the doorway, enjoying listening to him take the brunt of Molly's wrath.

"Oh dear," Molly's anger turned into worry as she edged towards the hallway.

"Sit," the Potions Master raised his wand to her. "I assure you he is fine." Fine for now at least.

"Fine? You call having cancer fine?" Molly yelled, not caring he had his wand pointed at her. With a flick, he sent her flying into the chair followed by a quick sticking charm before she could reach for her wand. Another flick set up a silencing charm around them. Harry had heard enough and Severus really didn't want his child to get upset over anything Molly might say when she heard the facts.

"Severus Snape! Unstick me this instant!" she screeched loud enough to make the Slytherin wince.

"Not until you listen to what I have to say! Must I cast a Silencio as well?" Severus threatened sick of listening to the matriarch's tirade. If he were treating her like he treated a student, well she'd have to stop acting like an insolent teenager if she wished to be treated like the adult she was.

"I don't understand," Molly sighed. "I just saw Harry during a lesson with you the other day."

"What?" the Potions Master hadn't expected that. Just what had Albus done. "You never saw him, nor were you here."

"Yes, I was. I had flooed to Albus' office to ask him about Harry's cancer, when he assured me that there had been a mix-up with his blood tests, and Harry was perfectly fine. Then he..." she trailed off. "That fool! Did he not think?" Molly struggled against the sticking charm. "Let me up, Severus! That meddling old man obliviated me!"

Dropping his head into in his hands, he rubbed at his temples. Severus thought he had gotten through to the Headmaster over the severity of Harry's illness, but obviously not if Albus thought he could hide it.

The Order meeting was looking worse and worse in terms of what he'd be dealing with. Surely, Minerva would back him up if Albus still planned to send the child to fight the Dark Lord by summer's end. No, the Potions Master wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't send his child to certain death, even if it meant he had to take Harry into hiding. The war was for adults to fight, not children, especially sick ones who didn't have total control over their magic.

"Molly, please. I need you to stay here with Harry." There was no way Severus was going to miss the Order meeting now. He was the only one who could put an end to Albus' scheming. The Headmaster had to listen to him. He had full parental rights concerning Harry, and even Albus couldn't overstep those.

"Is Harry okay?" Molly calmed, worry creeping into her voice once again.

"He's undergoing Muggle treatments for his leukemia. Harry's okay, but he shouldn't be left alone," Severus started to explain, hating how many times he had to have this conversation.

"Muggle treatments? Why?"

"There's no magical cure. The Muggle treatments are analogous to a poison really. They work to kill the cancer cells but also kill the good cells, which leaves him with a compromised immune system, highly susceptible to infection or illnesses, hence why I asked you to wash your hands. You may have felt the sterilization charms when you flooed in and walked into the sitting room from the entrance chamber," he sighed.

Repeating the details of Harry's treatment made it all the more real now that Harry was suffering from its side effects. His child could really die by having someone with a simple cold visit him. While Harry's absolute neutrophil count, the white blood cell count that was used to determine a person's risk of infection hadn't reached dangerous levels yet, his counts had started their decline and soon enough Harry's ANC would dip below five hundred, the threshold that indicated a high risk of infection. It had been so easy to get lost in caring for Harry that his brain hadn't fully wrapped around the full reality of the situation. How could it when he and Harry had been essentially closed off from the outside world the last few days? Even when he had gone out he had encountered nameless people there to perform necessary tasks, nothing more.

"Many people take well to chemotherapy and the drugs used to counteract the side effects, but so far Harry is having a rough go at it. He's vomiting on a consistent basis, and on pain medication to help with his headaches and overall pain. He's lost quite a bit of weight since you've last seen him. I warn you his condition may shock you, but I must caution you against showing your shock to Harry," Severus tried to prepare Molly for the few hours ahead of her. She hadn't seen the child since right after the Ministry incident, and Harry wasn't the same child he was a month ago.

Harry's condition wasn't a shock to him since he had seen Harry transform into his current state, bit by bit. But for someone to see him for the first time in a month would be quite a shock. A month ago the child was lively even through the sleep deprivation resulting from the visions and at a healthy weight. Now the boy was skeletal with dark circles under his eyes despite napping throughout the day. Harry's actions were lethargic and the proud Gryffindor had turned into a scared, self-conscious teenager.

"I'll try," Molly said, her voice quiet and solemn.

"Harry's hooked up to his medications through a Hickman catheter implanted into his chest, which he isn't comfortable with other people seeing yet. Be careful when you hug him, as I know you will, not to tug at the tubing and when he sleeps make sure the tubes don't get tangled. The chemotherapy drugs are hazardous to the touch, so don't touch the bag and if somehow the bag breaks, spills, or leaks, floo me immediately-"

"Severus," she interrupted, "Are you sure Harry will be okay with me? I'm a mother of seven children, but I've never taken care of a child that requires all this."

"You'll be fine," he reassured her, waving his hand to release the sticking charm. "I'll be leaving Harry's nightly pills for him to take at nine. One's a sleeping pill that should knock him out for a few hours, so most of your time should be spent with him asleep. You'll need to watch out for visions or any mental attacks while he sleeps, but I expect he'll be too tired to dream since he's been rather active this evening. Miss Adamson, the specialist brought in to take Harry's case will drop by sometime to check on him and change his chemo bag. If either your or Harry need me, don't hesitate to contact me. Any questions?"

She shook her head. Her eyes were wide, and she hadn't moved since Severus released the sticking charm. He wondered if she had even noticed she was free to move around.

The Potions Master stood from his chair and motioned for Molly to do the same. "Harry's room is this way." He led her down the hall and paused at the cracked open door of Harry's bedroom to knock.

"Come in," Harry called. Severus heard the nervousness in his child's voice and gave Harry a few seconds to collect himself before pushing the door open and admitting Molly into the room.

-----

Sitting in the window seat, Harry swallowed hard as his bedroom door was pushed open. He was nervous to see Mrs. Weasley, scared that she wouldn't see him, but all the tubes and medications that were currently working to kill his cancer cells.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley whispered as he saw her eyes land on him before rushing across the room to wrap her arms around him, but not as tight as she normally did. Harry leaned against her, soaking up her comfort though it wasn't the same as when Severus comforted him. Her arms didn't promise safety like his professor's did, but it still felt nice to know Mrs. Weasley wasn't afraid to touch him now. "How are you holding up, Harry dear?"

"Alright, I guess," he shrugged, forcing a smile.

"Is Severus treating you well? I can talk to Dumbledore about having you come stay with us," she pulled away from him to look him over.

"No, I'm fine here," Harry rushed out, not wishing to leave Severus and the safety of his quarters. If anyone could keep him safe during his treatments, he knew it was Snape. Not to mention the quiet and peacefulness of the dungeons was calming and a nice respite from the outside world where he had to be Harry Potter, supposed savior of the wizarding world.

"Are you sure? Severus is feeding you and not locking you in your room?" Mrs. Weasley placed her hand under his chin and forced him to look up into her eyes.

"No," Harry couldn't help but shudder. Severus could be a right bastard when he wanted to be, Harry knew that all too well, but he'd never starve and lock him up like the Dursleys did and to have his professor compared to them struck a chord in Harry. "I mean Professor Snape is taking good care of me, really Mrs. Weasley."

"If this is what you want-"

"Molly, stop interrogating the boy," Snape snapped and Harry was all too grateful for his professor stepping in. "I am responsible for hundreds of children nine months out of the year. Surely I can take care of one, even if he is an imprudent brat."

"Hey," Harry protested as his head whipped to glare at Severus, but stopped short after spotting the corner of the man's lips upturned just the tiniest bit, so tiny that Harry wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been spending nearly every waking hour with the man for the past week.

"Severus, really," Mrs. Weasley pointed a stern finger at him. "Leave the poor boy alone."

The Potions Master rolled his eyes and Harry couldn't help but laugh at seeing the man who could make students cry with a mere glare reprimanded like a small child by Mrs. Weasley. It was definitely a sight to see and made Harry wish he owned a wizarding camera to capture the moment for when he needed a good laugh though he suspected Severus would burn the picture if he saw it.

"Come here, brat," Snape rolled his eyes again.

Harry hopped down from his window seat and rolled his infusion pump with him to where Severus was standing by his bed while forcing himself to stop laughing. A wave of nausea settled over him, convincing him that laughing hadn't been a good idea.

"Sir," he warned as bile rose up in his throat.

A strong arm wrapped around him to help hold him upright while the other held the summoned basin in front of him just in time to catch his meager dinner from hitting the floor. His legs buckled and Harry felt his body being lowered to his knees. He stuck his arms out as he leaned on all fours over the basin that Severus set onto the floor.

Merlin's balls! He was getting sick of throwing up and to have an audience was embarrassing. It was one of the reasons why he refused to see his friends.

"It's okay," Severus still had one arm wrapped around his waist, supporting part of his weight. With his free hand Harry felt him rub soothing circles into his back and neck. "Take a deep breath and try to relax. Fighting it will only make it worse."

Harry followed his professor's instructions and groaned as he felt more bile rise up in his throat. Apparently his body wanted to get rid of all his dinner, not that that was surprising to him. He threw up a few more times, each time growing weaker as exhaustion started to kick in until his nausea had subsided to the point that he was done vomiting for now. As usual Severus held out a swallow of mouthwash and Harry took it, more than ready to get the horrible taste out of his mouth.

"To bed, I think," Severus said, scooping him up off the floor without warning. Harry didn't even protest being carried, as he felt too weak to lug himself the few feet to his bed anyway. He hated feeling horrible and weak, and it seemed that as he got further into his chemo treatment, the bad parts of his day grew worse.

Flinching as his back came into contact with the mattress, Harry rolled over onto his side trying to find a comfortable position, one that didn't feel like the bones in his body were lying on the stone floor instead of his mattress.

"What's wrong?" Severus brought his hand up to Harry's forehead.

"Hurts," Harry admitted as he leaned into Snape's hand.

"Lying down?"

"Yeah. It's like the mattress got harder," Harry grabbed a pillow, intending to use his extra pillows to create a bed of sorts on top of his bed.

"That's not necessary," the Potions Master took the pillow from him and returned it to the top of the bed before taking out his wand. Pointing the wand at the mattress, Harry heard Severus whisper a few words while the mattress grew softer under him. "Better?"

Harry snuggled back down into bed sighing with relief as the mattress cradled him again instead of seeming to push up against him. "Thank you," Harry smiled.

"There's no need to thank me," Severus said before Harry felt the slight breeze of a freshening charm sweep over him. The Potions Master brought up the covers from the end of the bed and tucked him in, handing Harry the end of the duvet so he could wrap his hand up in it like he always did with his top hand when he lay on his side.

Only then did Severus magic his hoodie off, which Harry was thankful for since he really didn't want Mrs. Weasley to see him with it off. His tank top left little to the imagination since it clung to his chest and it was cut low enough that most of his Hickman insertion site was on display.

A feeling of warmth spread through Harry. It felt so good to finally have someone take care of him. Severus was surprising him more and more by picking up his little eccentricities that no one had bothered to notice before.

"Is there anything you need before I go?" the Potions Master whispered, perching on Harry's bed so that his back blocked Mrs. Weasley's view of them.

"Do you know why my scar bled?" He had been meaning to ask Severus about it, but kept forgetting. "Was it because of the mental attack?"

"I can't be positive, but since your blood counts, including your platelets which help to clog your blood are starting to drop, the bleeding was most likely due to that," Severus explained as Harry felt him trace his scar. "The Dark Lord's mental attack might've caused your scar to become irritated and inflamed like it does during your visions, but the lowered platelets counts likely brought on the bleeding."

"So it might happen again?" Harry shivered. He hated his scar and all that it represented.

"Yes, but we'll continue to work on your Occlumency skills until we won't have to worry about him accessing your mind."

"What if I can't master Occlumency?" he whispered. Harry had major doubts over ever getting Occlumency. The whole concept didn't make sense to him, and he wasn't sure it ever would.

"You will," Snape squeezed his shoulder. "Anything else?"

"When will you be back?" Harry shifted to look up at his professor.

"I expect I'll be gone a few hours. I don't intend to dawdle after the meeting concludes, but it'll be a longer meeting than normal," Severus retrieved the push button for Harry's PCA pump and placed it by Harry's pillow. "You might need that."

"Thanks," he yawned. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

"Remember you may floo if you need me. I'm going to retrieve your medications for Mrs. Weasley to give you at nine, but then I must be off."

"Okay," Harry let his eyes close, his body giving in to exhaustion as he felt Severus slip his glasses of his face and push a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

-----

After retrieving Harry's medications, Severus returned to the child's bedroom to hand them off to Molly for safekeeping. However, the Weasley matriarch didn't look like she could handle keeping anything safe. Worry was written across her face and she stood in front of the chair besides Harry's bed, her knees bending before straightening back up in a dance of deciding whether or not to sit down.

"I don't know if I can do this," Molly whispered as her eyes remained fixed on his son who lay curled up asleep, oblivious to Molly's turmoil.

"You've seen seven children through numerous illnesses. This isn't that much different," Severus set down the small container holding Harry's medications on the nightstand.

"How can you be so calm? He looks horrible and I bet he feels even worse," she plopped down in the chair. "I just want to scoop him up and make his cancer go away, but I can't."

Severus knew that feeling all too well. So many times he wished he could retrieve a potion from his lab to ease Harry's side effects or experiment until he found a cure. Worse, just one little dose of a stomach calming draught that he had a whole shelf full of would erase the child's nausea, yet he couldn't even offer that to Harry. He had to watch Harry suffer instead, helpless to do anything but help his child through the treatments.

"You need to trust that this is what's best for him," Severus sighed. He didn't have time for this nor should he have to reassure someone else about his child. If anything, people should be reassuring him that he was doing the right thing for Harry.

"He'll really be okay while you're gone?" Molly took her eyes off the child to look up at him.

"Yes, and he won't break if you touch him," Severus reassured her.

"Alright," Molly sat up straight, a determined look forming on her face. "I'll be fine here. Go floo to the meeting before you're late," she shooed him though her voice was filled with anxiety laced fear.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised and with one last look at his sleeping son, Severus turned away to leave for the Order meeting, prepared to fight for his child's future, a future that didn't involve sending his son to fight against the darkest wizard of their time. 

When Severus entered Grimmauld Place, the house was abuzz with chatter as Order members lingered around, waiting for Albus to signal the meeting's start. Well, every Order member was alert and ready except for the wolf. Severus stepped straight from the floo to the sofa and kicked it with his boot. When that didn't disturb Lupin out of his drunken state, Severus waved his hand. The sofa tilted forward until it dumped the wolf onto the floor.

"Snape," Lupin tried to protest as he picked himself up off the floor, but with his drunken slur it sounded more like a whine.

"Ah, Severus," Albus strolled over to his side. "I was waiting for you to start the meeting."

Severus couldn't help but glare at the man that was partly responsible for making his child's life akin to a living hell. "I am here then, so call the meeting. I do have others things and people that require my attention," he growled.

"Of course," Albus smiled. "How is Harry's training going?"

"Not well," the Potions Master balled his hands up into fists to keep from reaching for his wand or waving his hand.

"No?" the Headmaster frowned. "Try harder. I'm sure Harry will catch on soon."

Nodding for the sake of keeping the fireworks under wraps until more eyes were upon them to witness his patience running out, Severus turned on his heel and strode down the basement stairs and into the kitchen to spot a gangly teenager rummaging through the cupboards with one hand while his other hand held an overflowing sandwich.

"Out!" Severus hissed.

Weasley jumped, his hand knocking over an entire shelf of sweets and biscuits. "Pro-Professor, I-" The Gryffindor looked up at him with wide eyes before scrambling to pick up an armful of food off the floor and fleeing the room.

Severus rolled his eyes. Did Weasley think he was able to assign detentions and take house points during the summer? Not that the Potions Master minded he had that effect on his students at all, but it was rather annoying when he was left with the mess to clean up. But wait, Mr. Weasley was no longer just a student to him. He was Harry's friend, his son's friend, which meant that Severus needed to at least be courteous and civil with the rather uncoordinated teen if he wished to remain in his son's good graces.

Sighing, the Potions Master made a mental note to watch his acrid tongue the next time he encountered one of Harry's friends. There wasn't time to chase after Weasley when he was sure that any moment the Order members would start trickling into the kitchen. With that in mind, Severus sat down at the head of the table even though it had been the Mutt's usual spot as owner of the house. The seat meant that he'd be seated directly across from Albus, and if anyone had the right to take up the open seat, it was him.

Severus pretended to be bored as Order members took their seats. As much as he was looking forward to giving Dumbledore his due, Harry needed him and Severus couldn't afford for the meeting to last the entire night. He was sure Molly Weasley would be fine for a few hours but didn't want to chance anything longer than that. Once the sleeping pill wore off, there was no telling how Harry would feel, and Severus wanted to be there in case the child felt worse.

"Before we get started," Albus said, causing the chatter around the room to stop immediately, "I must first ask if anyone would like a lemon drop?" Groans echoed around the table as only the Weasley twins took up the Headmaster's offer. "Well then," Dumbledore cast a silencing charm at the door, "I am afraid our side has taken quite a hit since our last meeting. We have much to discuss tonight, and it would be best to remember that we are all on the same side as we work through our new circumstances, the first of which is the loss of Sirius Black."

"Will Headquarters need to move?" Shacklebolt asked. "There are few places as protected as this."

"That is up to Harry," Albus shuffled the pile of parchments that lay before him. "Here it is," the Headmaster held up a lengthy, official looking piece of parchment. "According to Sirius' will, he left Harry Grimmauld Place."

"What did Harry say?" Tonks looked towards the Headmaster. Severus quite liked his new spot at the table as it allowed him to see everything that was going on, even the ugly looks the wolf kept throwing at him.

"Severus?" Albus directed the questioning to him. He glared at the Headmaster.

"Perhaps it slipped your mind, Albus, but you didn't inform me of Potter's newest inheritances. Therefore, Potter hasn't been asked," the Potions Master scowled, using the scowl to cover up his half-cringe that came from referring to his child as Potter, but he wouldn't let Albus see how much his and Harry's relationship had changed, not yet.

"Why are we asking Snape? He hates Harry," Lupin slurred as he stood up, knocking his chair down behind him.

"Remus, sit down!" Albus waved his hand and the chair floated up until it was upright again in time for the wolf to slump down into the old, wooden chair. "Harry is staying at Hogwarts this summer to receive lessons from Severus with the hope that Harry will soon be ready to face Voldemort."

Whispers erupted around the table. Some questioned Dumbledore's trust in him while others were excited to hear that soon the war could come to an end. Severus, on the other hand, had had enough of Albus' scheming. They were talking about his child, not a weapon to be trained and used at will.

"Mr. Potter will not be ready to face the Dark Lord anytime soon as you know, Albus. I suggest you find an alternative, one that has adults fighting an adult war," Severus stated, his voice calm and collected. If possible he wished to afford Harry as much privacy as any other child would receive, including keeping Harry's leukemia under wraps considering half the people sitting at the table didn't even know the boy but for his name and face.

"Severus, we have discussed this," Albus said, his voice stern with an angry fire burning underneath. "Although Harry is not advancing as quickly as you would like, he is making great progress."

"Harry isn't making any progress at all because I'm not training him!" Severus slammed his fist onto the table, ignoring the gasps from his fellow Order members.

"What do you mean, Severus?" Arthur Weasley piped up. "Molly returned a few days ago after visiting Harry during one of his lessons with you."

"Are you going to tell them, or shall I?" Severus threatened, tired of Albus trying to smooth over Harry's illness. The Potions Master needed the Order informed that Harry may very well need around the clock protection should a threat be discovered, and he couldn't very well take of Harry and stand outside his quarters to wait for a Death Eater attack or worse the Dark Lord at the same time. Hogwarts provided a large amount of protection, but only a fool would believe that Hogwart's protection couldn't be breached. 

"Tell us what?" one of the Weasley terrors asked with excitement lacing through his voice. Obviously, the twins were as excited to witness verbal fireworks here, as they were to pull pranks at Hogwarts.

"I have not the faintest clue to what you are alluding to," Albus sat back in his chair like a king forced to endure long hours of holding court, but Severus wasn't fooled in the tiniest bit.

Albus' presence pushed against his Occlumency shields and Severus slammed his tightest shield into place before his once trusted mentor could slide into his mind. The Headmaster refused to take the hint and so the Potions Master sent the image of Harry on his hands and knees on the stone floor, vomiting into the basin as Severus held his shaky body up.  Dumbledore fled his mind and slumped in his chair, his eyes cast downward.

Severus was ready to pounce at the opportunity to take advantage of Albus' speechlessness. "Arthur, it may come as a surprise, but Molly did not visit Harry during one of my lessons. She didn't visit Harry at all," the Potions Master paused and made sure to make eye contact with the Weasley patriarch. "Albus obliviated your wife to make it seem that Mr. Potter is indeed fine."

"But that means..." Arthur trailed off as members of the Order were split between calling Severus a liar and admonishing the Headmaster.

"Yes," Severus nodded.

"Harry really has cancer?" Severus thought it was George who blurted it out.

"Yes," he admitted, refusing to deny the claim and sinking to Albus' level.

Silence blanketed the room as Severus saw numerous sets of eyes dart between him and the Headmaster. Charlie Weasley slipped out of the room, no doubt to inform his youngest siblings of Harry's cancer.

"Is Harry okay?" Arthur broke the silence with a whisper.

"Yes, but he shouldn't be pressured to ready himself to fight the Dark Lord," Severus said, leaving out the severity of Harry's condition. He didn't trust that all that was said in the meeting wouldn't be repeated elsewhere, and it was important that the image of Harry as a strong and powerful wizard stayed intact.

"He's doing well," Minerva backed him up as interested eyes turned to her. "I was with Harry earlier to help with a Transfigurations lesson."

"The fact remains that Harry needs to be ready," Albus stated in a desperate attempt to bring the meeting under his control again.

"Albus," Severus warned. Would the Headmaster ever get it? Harry couldn't control his magic enough to keep up a sustained Lumos, never mind any offensive or defensive spells.

"Are you sure you do not need a lemon drop, Severus? They do wonders for one's mood," Albus levitated his tin of lemon drops in front of him.

"I don't need nor do I want a lemon drop," he threw the offending tin across the room.

"Suit yourself, my boy," Albus pocketed the tin after summoning it with a flick of his wand. "Now, where were we before we somehow went on this unnecessary tangent?"

"If you obliviated Molly, how can we be sure you never obliviated one of us?" Moody stood up, his wand pointed at Dumbledore.

"I did not obliviate Molly. Clearly there was a small misunderstanding," the Headmaster said. "Besides, we have more important things to discuss considering our spy let himself be discovered."

That was it. Severus refused to allow the Headmaster to get away with that last comment. "If I hadn't followed Potter and his friends to the Ministry, we'd be dealing with overcoming the loss of those children! Tell me, Albus, what would we do then without the supposed chosen one?" The Potions Master sprang up from his chair, his hand itching to reach for his wand. There were so many hexes he'd like to send Albus' way, hexes that would show him the pain Harry was currently suffering as perhaps a result of the Ministry incident.

Severus wasn't convinced that Harry's cancer was a random occurrence, his magic should've warded off any type of major Muggle diseases, but somehow Harry's magic had failed him. He couldn't pinpoint the moment, but Severus had to believe Harry's resulting depleted magical core from the Ministry incident was somehow at fault.

"Hand over your wand," Moody maneuvered around the table until he was in front of Dumbledore. "A simple spell will take care of the accusation against you."

"My word should be sufficient," Albus crossed his arms in front of him. "And Severus, I am sure help would have arrived soon enough. You underestimate Harry's ability."

"I underestimate Potter?" Severus leaned over the table as the pots and pans started to shake around them. "You overestimate him! He's naught but a child, Albus!"

"A child you hate."

"I've never hated him!" the Potions Master sneered. Pots and pans fell from their hooks, crashing onto the floor.

"Severus," Minerva grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back into his chair. "Calm down."

"Not until Albus admits he's using Harry as a human weapon!"

"I do not have the faintest idea of what you mean," Albus' lips turned up the tiniest bit, but to Severus, who as a former spy had trained himself to notice the tiniest details, it was enough.

"I won't let you!" He pushed pass Minerva and kicked his chair behind him.

"Severus, Harry has never objected to anything I have asked of him."

"Have you ever asked or considered what's best for his well-being?" the Potions Master slipped his wand into his hand. "Tell me Albus, have you always done what's in Harry's best interest?"

"I'd like to think so, though I am mortal," the Headmaster sighed. "What are you getting at, Severus?"

"Look at me," he growled, staring directly into the Headmaster's eyes.

Severus connected with the Headmaster and pushed images of the paternity potion and Lily's letter towards him, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he knew Harry was his child.

Dumbledore gasped as he broke eye contact with Severus. "We will speak of this new development in my office tomorrow."

"With Minerva present," the Potions Master demanded. He didn't doubt for one minute that if he were to meet with Albus alone, the meddling fool might try to obliviate him to maintain a modicum of control over his son.

"If you insist," Albus sighed.

"I do," Severus nodded, slipping his wand away. "Oh, and Albus?" he paused. "Any plans concerning Harry go through me."

With that, the Slytherin strode from the table, his robes billowing behind him as he retreated to the floo to return to his son, leaving utter chaos in his wake.

                                                               ----- 

Something shifted under Harry's head. He blinked a few times trying to make out his surroundings. The sounds of waves and consistent beeping told him he was in his room in Severus' quarters, but why had his pillow shifted underneath him?

"It's okay. It was just me," his professor whispered, a faint light emitting from his wand tip.

Harry sat up and noticed his pillow had been moved to Severus' lap, only he never remembered waking up to move it there. "When did you get back?"

"A few hours ago. I didn't mean to wake you."

He lay back down and resituated the comforter over him, feeling safer now that his professor had returned. "Anything you can tell me?"

"Not anything Order related, but I have something we need to discuss in the morning," Severus said, his voice taking on a weird tone that Harry thought sounded like it contained nervousness, but Severus Snape was never nervous.

"Can't you tell me now?" Harry asked while his eyes drooped shut.

"No, it's much too late, and you're falling asleep as it is," Severus started carding his fingers through his hair, and Harry knew any argument he might think to put up was a lost cause. It felt so relaxing and completely opposite to the pain that took morphine to ward off. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little," Harry admitted, his speech becoming slurred as he sunk closer and closer to returning to dreamland.

"Sleep now," the Professor whispered and his body gave in, not needing another word of encouragement.

-----

Severus summoned the extra blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it over his son. It was a chilly night in the dungeons, and even though he knew technically a cold didn't come from being cold, but a virus, it made him feel better that the child had one more layer to protect him from the cold.

"Good night, Hadrian," Severus whispered so low he wondered if he had even said it aloud. The name rolled off his tongue like he was meant to say it, but at the same time it felt sacrosanct to use. Hadrian was Harry now for better or worse, and it would be up to his son to decide if he wished to continue using Harry or make the transition back to Hadrian.

He would tell Harry in the morning. The Potions Master had to now that he informed the Headmaster at the disastrous Order meeting. It was something that had to be done, but he wished he had been able to tell his son first.

Too worried over his child's reaction to sleep, Severus had climbed in next to Harry with his outer robes on, seeking a connection with his child in case Harry wasn't pleased with their newly discovered relationship.

Underneath those worries, however, lay fear and a feeling of protectiveness that he couldn't ignore. It was the reason he was sitting up straight with his wand in hand, his ears listening for the alarms to signal his wards were being breached. Dumbledore wouldn't sit and accept Severus' declarations made at the meeting. The Headmaster might try and enter his quarters while he was thought to be sleeping, but Severus was ready, and he wouldn't rest until the meeting with Albus was over and Minerva had been informed. After all, Albus might be able to get away with obliviating one person, but he'd never be able to obliviate both of them at the same time, and as the news spread like wildfire, it would be impossible for Albus to cover up Harry's parentage and ignore Severus' parental rights.

As he looked down at his son, Severus hoped the revelation wouldn't overwhelm the child or upset his mental stability. Not only would it be bad for Harry's treatments, but also before Molly left, she mentioned a small memorial they were putting together for Sirius the following week. Severus had every intention of taking Harry provided a few precautions were taken. It was important the child attended to help with his grieving process, and in addition it provided an opportunity for Harry to speak with his friends while Severus monitored the conversation from the other side of the room, prepared to step in at a moment's notice. First, though, Harry had to still trust him after the coming conversation. 

Harry woke up to a slight tug on his Hickman. "Hurts," he tried to roll over to escape the tug, but strong hands on his back kept him in place.

"Sorry, sweetie," Miss Adamson apologized. "The tubes got a bit tangled while you were sleeping.

"Is it morning?" Harry opened his eyes as Miss Adamson placed her cold, gloved hands on his chest. He shivered.

"Yes," Severus draped a blanket so that it covered his back and side, but left his chest bare for Miss Adamson to finish her ministrations. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," he answered not feeling horrible, but not good either.

"No pain?" the Potions Master handed Harry his glasses.

"No," Harry confirmed as he slipped his glasses on, bringing the room into focus. "Did you stay here all night?" he turned his head to look up at his professor.

"I did," Severus pushed a stray piece of hair off his forehead.

Harry smiled, a feeling of warmth spreading over his limbs. He had long ago given up the dream that someone would take care of him like a parent would. He was nearly sixteen after all, a little over a year from becoming a legal adult in the wizarding world, but the way Severus was treating him made him remember the little boy in the cupboard that he had been, the boy that wished upon a taped up star every night for someone to whisk him away from the Dursleys and raise him as their own.

"Okay, Harry," Miss Adamson said as she secured the tubes from his Hickman to his body with a large transparent dressing, "You're free. I need to stop by the lab to pick up some test results, so it may be a little bit longer than an hour before I return, not that I think you mind." She winked.

He shook his head, his eyes lighting up from the potential extra long break before Miss Adamson returned with his next chemo bag. 

"And Severus, I'll bring those forms for you," the Specialist wrote a quick note in his chart, and Harry felt the round disc on his bracelet warming, an indication his medical records were being updated simultaneously.

"Thank you. I appreciate it," Severus nodded his head.

"What forms?" Harry asked the minute Miss Adamson left his room. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. Your treatments are progressing as they should," the Potions Master nudged Harry to sit up. He sat up against the pillows, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"Then what are the forms for?" Forms worried Harry since they correlated to painful treatments or tests such as his chemotherapy and bone marrow biopsy. He looked at Severus who was looking at him as if he were an experimental potion. "Sir?"

"Don't call me that," Snape snapped.

Harry jumped back, not understanding what he'd done wrong. Sure, the Professor said Harry could call him Professor of even Severus, but he never explicitly said not to call him sir. In fact, Severus insisted upon it during their Occlumency lessons until it became a habit for Harry to address his professor as such.

Severus ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "Sorry. I'd prefer it if you'd call me Severus or Professor."

"Okay," Harry edged towards the side of his bed. The snappy Snape wasn't someone Harry wished to be around, especially not when he was worried about why Miss Adamson was bringing back some forms for Severus to sign. "I'm just going to go take my shower now." He pointed towards the bathroom door before setting his feet on the floor and pushing himself up to a standing position. Dizziness assaulted his senses and Harry grabbed the side of his bed to steady himself.

"Harry, wait," Severus wrapped an arm around his waist. Harry wanted to recoil, hating when people grabbed or touched him without warning him first, but to allow himself to recoil would throw him off balance and onto the floor or face-first onto his bed depending on which way he fell.

"I want to take a shower," he whispered in protest despite Uncle Vernon's voice echoing in his head reminding him that freaks don't protest, but do as they're told.

"This is more important," Severus nudged him towards his bed.

"Am I dying?" Harry blurted out. His hand flew to cover up his mouth. Harry hadn't meant to say that. He hadn't even been thinking it, at least not consciously. Was that the reason Severus didn't want to discuss the forms? The Professor didn't want him to know he was really dying?

"You are not dying," Severus' hold on his waist tightened. "Must I assign you lines until you believe me?"

"Then tell me what the forms are for!" Harry backed away from Severus. His knees hit the back of his bed causing him to fall backwards. Severus caught him and eased him into a sitting position.

"If you will sit and listen, I'll tell you, but you must calm down first," the Potions Master sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand smoothing down the duvet.

Frustrated, Harry let out a rather angry sigh. Why couldn't anyone just tell him something straight out? It was like everyone filtered what he was told and while he appreciated it at times, it was annoying when he wanted the truth.

"Calm down," Severus reached out to rub the back of his neck. "You'll only tire sooner if you don't."

He pushed Snape's hand away. "Just tell me! It's my right to know." Harry glared at his professor. Didn't they have an agreement about Snape asking for his opinion before deciding anything concerning his health?

"It is," Severus sighed, "though I must caution you that you might not like the answer."

"The chemo isn't working, is it? That's why it's making me so sick." He reached for his Hickman. If his treatments weren't working, what was the point of having the added accessory when he could use the time he had left to fly or other times he wasn't allowed to do while on chemo?

"Harry, no!" Severus yanked his hand away before he could grasp the tubing that limited his freedom. "This has nothing to do with your treatments or your cancer. I repeat, the chemotherapy treatments are working as they should. The forms are nothing but a technicality due to a mistake in the previous ones I signed."

"Technicality? Did the medical proxy paperwork not arrive at the Ministry in time so you have to resign the forms now that they have?" he reasoned. Harry hadn't seen the official forms since they were sent off to the Ministry and from what he understood the approval took a day or two at the most.

"It's similar, but not quite."

"Explain it to me," Harry crossed his arms. He wanted it spelled out for him, not a game of Twenty Questions.

"Very well," Severus held out his hand until a small wooden box came zooming through the door. Placing the small box on the bed before him, Harry watched the Potions Master trace his fingers over the lid before looking up at him, his brow furrowed in worry. "I received a letter from Wizarding Child Services denying my request to become your medical proxy."

"What?" Harry blinked. What would happen now? He shuddered thinking about the possibility of needing the Dursleys to sign the consent forms for him. If he couldn't get Uncle Vernon to sign a permission slip to visit Hogsmeade, it would be near impossible to get him to sign forms consenting for his treatments. His relatives would rather see him die. There was no doubt about that.

Severus held his hand up to silence him. "Yesterday, when I said I had to run a few errands, I actually went to the Ministry to sort out the issue. It seems that all along I never needed to petition for rights to become your medical proxy."

"Huh?" Harry was growing more confused by the second.

"I always had the right to make medical decisions for you even though I was completely unaware of my rights," the Potions Master stood up and began to pace in front of Harry. What was Severus trying to say? Why would he always have the right to make decisions for him? That was a parent's right and next to that a godparent's. Wait. No, it was impossible, wasn't it?

"No," Harry whispered loud enough to make Severus stop dead in his tracks. "You can't be." He looked back and forth between himself and Severus. He couldn't see one single resemblance besides a similar hair color and millions of people had similar hair colors including his dad.

"Harry," the Potions Master kneeled down in front of him and covered Harry's hands with his own.

"Are you...?" Harry trailed off, unable to produce the last word of his sentence as tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.

All his life all he wanted was one of his parents to be alive and now he wasn't sure if he wanted that, if he could accept what Severus seemed to be implying. The man was nicer to him now, but could he accept that his... he couldn't even say the word in his mind, being horrible to him for five years? And why now? Why not when his parents were killed and he was left at the Dursleys' doorstep like an unwanted orphan?

Severus nodded once as he loosened his grip on Harry's hands.

Snape is my dad? Harry pulled his knees up to his chest. This couldn't be happening. First, Sirius died, then he got cancer, and now this? He knew things happened in threes, but this was too outrageous, too insane to even consider. His mother would never cheat on his father. The one thing everyone always said about her was how caring she was. How could she do this to his father, err James? How could she do this to him? Didn't she love him enough to sacrifice herself for him? But if so, why would she ever leave him to be raised by the Dursleys when he could've been with his... with a relative that would've cared for him better than the Dursleys!

Rocking back and forth with his eyes closed, Harry waited for the dream or nightmare, he wasn't sure which, to end so he could wake up and have everything return to normal. Well, as normal as things would ever be for Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. Merlin, did that mean he was really Harry Snape? It didn't even sound right together!

"Harry," Severus placed a handkerchief in his hand. The calloused hand remained there for a few moments before pulling away.

"How?" Harry forced out, squeezing the handkerchief. One part of him wanted to throw the handkerchief against the wall and throw a glorious tantrum that would make a toddler proud, but the other part of him wanted answers before making any rash decisions.

There had to be a small chance that it wasn't as it seemed. That he wasn't some accidental child from an illicit affair, unwanted from the very beginning. Harry couldn't handle knowing he was never wanted. At least when he was growing up with the Dursleys he had the illusion his parents loved him even if they were dead. Not for the first time Harry wondered if it would've been better if he'd never been born. It seemed like his life caused trouble for everyone around him and this was the icing on the cake.

"You were wanted before you were ever born." Harry felt the bed dip and a second later one of Severus' trembling arms wrapped around his shoulders. "I... Lily and I reconciled after the pensieve memory you witnessed as I mentioned before. Forgive me if I cannot recall the details at the moment, but apparently-"

"What do you mean apparently?" Harry glared. Either Snape knew or he didn't.

"I'll get to that if you let me continue," the man raised his voice the tiniest bit. "Apparently after a Death Eater meeting-"

He flinched. Harry had almost forgotten Snape was a former Death Eater. Merlin, his d-dad was a Death Eater! Spy or not, the Potions Master must've done horrible things for Voldemort, the very wizard who was hell bent on killing him.

"-I visited your mother. We were close friends even after Lily married James. On that night I expressed my wish to have a child. James was leaving on an Auror mission for a month and overheard our conversation," Severus paused and Harry could hear the lid of the box open and close in a rhythmic pattern a few times before stopping. "James gave Lily permission to fulfill my wish."

Harry's eyes went wide. From what he knew, the two hated each other and for his father to... Damn! He was starting to confuse himself. For James to give Snape permission to do that, he really didn't need the mental pictures that started appearing in his mind, was akin to Sirius getting along with Snape and that would've never happened.

A hand gently gripped his chin, nudging his head up to meet the Potions Master's eyes. "They gave me you, Harry. You lived with me until you were almost a year old when I became terrified the Dark Lord would discover I had a son and make me promise you'd grow up to be a Death Eater. I couldn't do that to you, so I left you with Lily and James and obliviated myself."

"If you don't remember, how can I be sure it's true?" Harry grasped at straws. It sounded like something off those daytime shows Aunt Petunia always watched, not real life.

"I brewed a paternity potion yesterday morning upon receiving the letter," Snape sighed as Harry wiggled away from his hold. "It doesn't lie, Harry. I'm sorry you have suffered for decisions made by my rash, younger self. I would've only done it for your protection."

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" Harry jumped up, his anger winning over his desire to have a father. "Because of your rash decisions, I had to grow up wondering how long I'd have to go in between meals as I was locked away in a cupboard that was just big enough to hold a small mattress that was more fit for a toddler than me! By the time I was nine, I couldn't even stretch out my legs when I lay down! Couldn't you have found out sooner?" He picked up one of his school texts that was sitting on his trunk and flung it at the wall.

"The only person that knew after Lily and James died was the Headmaster, and I had him swear an Unbreakable Vow that he wouldn't tell me unless the Dark Lord was dead or you died or was dying. I admit that in my youth I didn't anticipate the Headmaster twisting the Vow to work in his favor," Snape took a few cautious steps towards him. "Please understand, Harry."

"I can't! Not when every adult lies to me and promises things they never come through with!" Harry backed away. He knew there was a reason he shouldn't have started to trust Snape. The Potions Master was just like every other adult. He lied and then expected Harry to forgive him. Not this time! Harry refused to back down. He'd never be Harry Snape no matter what a paternity potion said! His father died for him and all Snape did was bring doom to his life.

"I haven't lied to you. I only found out because your mother left this box for me at WCS. If anyone, blame Dumbledore! He knew the entire time and still sent you to those wretched Muggles," Snape strode over to the wooden box. "Would you rather hear it from a letter your mother wrote or perhaps a collection of memories?"

"No!" Harry stomped his foot and balled up his hands into fists. "Don't try to pass off the blame to Dumbledore! It was your choice! Didn't you want me enough to ensure that if something happened to my parents that you'd remember?"

"Fear makes people do stupid things, and I clearly wasn't thinking straight that day. Please Harry, give it a chance. I want to be your father," the Potions Master pleaded, holding up the open box that Harry saw contained the aforementioned pensieved memories. "I haven't had the time to work on a memory restoring draught, but as soon as I have the chance, I will. Lily wouldn't lie, and I want to remember what I obliviated from my memory."

Harry softened for just one moment, as he remembered why Snape hadn't had any time to brew the draught. The Potions Master had been too busy with helping him through his treatments. Treatments that Harry wasn't sure he even wanted anymore. There was just too much he was expected to handle. He was only fifteen, definitely not old enough to carry the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders.

"I'm done," Harry declared before he lost his sanity completely. Maybe seeking out Voldemort wasn't such a bad idea. At least that way his death would be quick and relatively painless. "And the name's Potter!" He retreated to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. It wouldn't keep Snape out, but the lock would send the message that he wished to be left alone.

-----

Severus wasn't sure if that went better or worse than he expected. At the very least, Harry was showing emotion instead of bottling it up which was good. Sighing, Severus sent the wooden box back to his bedroom until Harry was ready to know more. He'd give Harry time to think and process the new information. Hopefully after the shock wore off his son would be more receptive to their newfound familial relationship.

Even though Harry had time to sulk, Severus had things to do. Harry's room wouldn't clean itself and he'd be damned if his child got an infection or picked up a virus on his watch. With a flick of his wand, Harry's bed was stripped and the linens were banished to Harry's hamper for the house elves to wash with hypoallergenic detergent that was free from any harsh chemicals that might irritate Harry's delicate skin. He walked over to the wardrobe and retrieved the light blue Egyptian cotton sheet set, light blue duvet, and a clean mattress pad. While he could spell the clean linens on, Severus preferred to do it himself. He cast a sterilization charm on Harry's mattress and pillow before making the bed, complete with a freshening charm on the sheets to give Harry some extra comfort when Miss Adamson returned with the next bag of chemo.

After casting an extra general sterilization charm around the room and returning Harry's Potions textbook to his trunk, Severus stepped over to the bathroom door and put his ear to it. He could hear the water running and remembered that Harry hadn't bothered to grab a clean set of clothes so he strode back over to the wardrobe and pulled out a comfortable outfit and set a shrinking charm on it to last for two minutes which gave him enough time to slide the miniaturized stack of clothing under the bathroom door.

With Harry's room ready for him, Severus moved to the kitchen and proceeded to disinfect the countertops. Then, he brought out a bag of frozen mixed berries from the freezer cabinet since Harry's counts were starting to nosedive along with some yogurt from the cold cabinet to make Harry a smoothie. He poured the smoothie into a glass and placed a cooling charm on it before retrieving Harry's morning meds and placing them in a small plastic cup.

Since Harry's needs were taken care of, whether the child liked it or not, Severus allowed himself to brew an extra strong cup of coffee and took it to the sofa to savor. Flurry jumped on his lap the second he sat down, giving him a pitiful look from being ignored. "Sorry," Severus petted her behind her ears. She purred and stretched out on his lap. If only Harry would forgive him as easily.

He sighed. Severus hadn't expected Harry to jump for joy once he found out Severus was his father, but the amount of anger Harry carried towards the idea hurt him. Hadn't he shown the boy he cared for him? If nothing else, Harry couldn't say Severus hadn't protected him, at least in the wizarding world, and he had convinced Albus not to send Harry back to his relatives this summer. If he would've known about the situation sooner, he would've tried to ensure Harry never had to return to the Dursleys since he didn't tolerate child abuse at any level. After Harry's outburst, Severus was more curious than ever to know just what lines the Muggles had crossed. He was determined to get answers and file charges if necessary, but nothing could be done without Harry's cooperation.

Severus pushed Flurry off his lap before standing up and sending a cat hair removal spell and freshening charm towards his robes. The Specialist was due to return any minute, and it wouldn't look good if he couldn't even get his child to come out of the bathroom. Taking the plastic cup full of pills and smoothie, he returned to Harry's room to find it just as he left it without Harry in sight.

Not at all surprised, Severus set down the cup and smoothie on the nightstand. He crossed the room to the bathroom door and knocked on it. "Harry," Severus refused to address his child as Potter. The child would have to get over it. "Miss Adamson will be here any moment."

"Go away!" Harry yelled.

"I know you're angry, but it's important your treatments continue on schedule," Severus held himself back from sending an Alohamora at the door.

"I don't want any more chemo!"

He couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. Nobody ever wanted chemotherapy, but Harry needed it in order to survive his leukemia. "Harry, you're getting the chemo."

"You can't make me!" Harry's voice grew louder. Severus guessed Harry had moved to the door.

"Frankly, I can," he responded to the childish remark. Perhaps Harry was choosing to make up for Severus missing the terrible twos now. "You have your mother to thank for never severing my parental rights."

A loud bang sounded from the bottom of the door. "Just wait until I turn seventeen. Then you can't make me do anything!"

"No, but at least you'll be alive to hate me then." Severus counted to ten in his head. The child was really trying his patience this morning, but he made himself keep his temper in check since Harry deserved a bit of leniency considering the situation. Severus had turned the child's world upside down for the third time in the course of a month.

When Harry didn't respond, Severus grew worried. Had the child hurt his foot from kicking the door? Had he passed out? "Harry," Severus tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but failed, "I'm coming in."

Severus sent a wandless Alohamora at the door before opening it a crack in case Harry was lying on the other side. When the door didn't meet any resistance, he pushed it open and scanned the small room for his child.

It didn't take but a second for Severus to spot Harry bent over the toilet, vomiting once again. He crossed the room in three steps and knelt down beside his son. Harry sat up, but the glare directed at him lost all its potency because blood was running out of his child's nose. Severus summoned a handkerchief. "Lean forward a bit."

"What?" Harry wiped his nose with the back of his hand and Severus watched as his son's eyes grew wide and fear set it.

"Lean a little forward," he repeated and wrapped his hand in the handkerchief before pinching Harry's nose. "Relax. It's from your platelet count dropping. Let me know if you start to feel dizzy."

Harry didn't say anything, but leaned sideways until he was resting against his chest. Severus wrapped his free arm around his son to hold him upright while he waited for Harry's nose to stop bleeding.

After ten minutes, Severus removed his hand from Harry's nose. The bleeding had stopped, but Harry would need a blood and separate platelet transfusion to prevent further reoccurrences since his counts wouldn't rebound on their own until this week of chemotherapy was through.

"Sit up," he loosened his hold. Instead of sitting up, the child sunk further into his side. "Harry?" Severus grew alarmed. He had noticed the boy had shut his eyes, but he hadn't shown any signs of passing out.

Severus reached for his wand and cast a quick diagnostic spell over Harry. The results came back as normal as they could be for a child battling cancer and showed that Harry hadn't passed out, but simply fell asleep.

"Brat," Severus whispered under his breath as relief flooded through him. He couldn't return Harry to bed yet since his head needed to stay higher than his heart for a little longer, so Severus was stuck sitting on the floor with an armful of sleeping teenager. 

Harry grumbled the moment he woke up and heard the constant beeping entering his ears. Hadn't he made it clear he didn't want any more chemo? Then again, Snape never listened to anything he said. Harry pushed away the faint feelings of safety his rational side tried to reason with him. That was just an act to butter Harry up before dropping the bomb that Snape was his... Harry shuddered. He refused to believe it. James Potter was his father, had loved him so much that he sacrificed his life to protect him, and all Snape had ever done was give him up so that even after his parents died, Harry was still sent to the Dursleys.

"Good morning," Madam Pomfrey greeted him as she crossed the room with a bowl in her hand.

"Where's Snape?" Harry sat up and slid his glasses on. He looked around the room, particularly in the shadows and dark corners for any sign of the Potions Master.

"Professor Snape was called to the Headmaster's office. He left explicit instructions for me to make sure you took your medications and ate," the Mediwitch slid the rolling tray over Harry's bed with a bowl of oatmeal, a smoothie, a glass of water, and his medications set out on it for him.

"I'm not hungry," Harry protested, glad Snape was called away. At the moment, he'd rather deal with Pomfrey's smothering.

"Eat," Pomfrey nudged the oatmeal towards him, "or must I feed you myself?"

"No," Harry sighed as he picked up the spoon and began to eat small bites. He alternated between eating his oatmeal and taking sips of his smoothie, but neither tasted particularly good, and he resorted to reciting all the spells he could think of in his head to distract him from the food sliding down his throat.

"Don't forget your medications," she reminded him when he had made a dent into his breakfast.

Harry nodded, not trusting the rising nauseous feeling enough to speak. He took three pills out at a time and swallowed them until he was finished and pushed the tray away from him.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" the Mediwitch looked at the bowl and then at him. "That's hardly enough for a baby, much less a teenager."

Harry rolled his eyes before lying down on his side facing away from her. He wanted to see how much she'd eat if she was as nauseous as he was feeling.

It wasn't like he was refusing to eat for the sake of refusing. Besides everything he ate coming up soon afterwards, everything tasted bland and the texture felt gross sliding down his throat. Chilled water that wasn't too cold was all that sounded anything near appetizing. Fruit juices were okay, but the back of his throat felt a little sore, enough to make him wonder if he caught a cold. Harry hoped not, but Miss Adamson or Snape hadn't said anything yet, so he hoped it was from vomiting so often. That last thing he wanted was to feel even worse.

"Well, Severus can't say I didn't try," Madam Pomfrey whispered under her breath. He heard her banish his breakfast with a sigh. "I'll be in the sitting room working on a few things for the Hospital Wing if you need me. Otherwise, I'll be in to check on you periodically."

"Okay," Harry said.

Harry waited for her footsteps to trail off as she walked down the hall before he relaxed. He was finally alone. Without anyone else there, he could just be Harry, whoever Harry was. He'd never really been sure who he was besides the supposed savior of the wizarding world, but now he was more lost than ever. Was Harry even his name?

A tear escaped his eye and Harry reached for his wand. It felt strange in his hand, like a stranger rather than a trusted friend. He supposed it might have something to do with avoiding using his wand whenever possible since his magic became unreliable. Lately, he'd even begun leaving his wand on his nightstand regardless of where he was in Snape's quarters. There was no point in keeping it on him when the spells he cast wouldn't work anyway. So much for Moody's constant vigilance.

Please work. Harry held his wand up, his hand shaking as he practiced the precise wand movement needed to accomplish a silencing spell. He couldn't tell if his hand was shaking from general weakness or anxiety over casting the spell. Either way it needed to stop if the spell was going to work.

Harry took a deep breath, willing his hand to stop shaking. "Obex silencio," Harry whispered, pleading for his magic to cooperate. A faint gold spark that was so small someone had to be looking for it to notice was emitted from his wand, and Harry could've jumped for joy if he had the energy. It had worked.

With a smile on his face, Harry fell backwards into the numerous pillows lining the top of his bed. He could scream or cry and no one would be able to hear him unless they encroached upon the invisible barrier surrounding his bed. He hugged his wand to his chest, thanking it for cooperating.

Maybe if he tried to forget Snape's words hard enough, they wouldn't be true and they could return to the strange normalcy that had started to set in. Yes, that's what he'd do. Harry curled up on his side and tried to think of anything but Snape.

-----

Ron sat at the desk that had been transfigured from the bed Harry usually stayed in while at Grimmauld Place. He scratched out a few words with his quill before crumbling up the piece of parchment into a ball and throwing it across to room to join the growing pile.

Why was it so hard to write to Hermione? He'd done it numerous times over the summers, yet Ron found himself at a loss. How could he tell Hermione in a letter that Harry, their best friend, really had cancer and in code incase Pig got intercepted?

Ron was still stunned himself although it had been rather entertaining to see his mum scream at Dumbledore the moment she returned from Hogwarts. He had had a hunch after hearing about the supposed test mix-up that something wasn't quite right. Yet, Ron had given into the hope that Harry was okay. His best friend had to be. He was Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, not died.

"Ron," his mother placed a hand on his shoulder, "lunch is ready."

"I'm writing Hermione," Ron twisted around to face her. Her eyes were red and her hair stuck out at weird angles. He wondered if his mum had slept at all the night before.

"It can wait," she squeezed his shoulder.

Ron shrugged her off and turned back around to pick up his quill. "Hermione needs to know."

"I know, but another hour won't change anything," she pulled the quill from his hand. "We're waiting for you to eat."

"Mum, how is he?" Ron whispered as he stared down at the blank piece of parchment.

"He's quite ill. The side effects of his treatments are hitting him hard."

Ron gulped. Harry never let himself look sick, even after the visions from You-Know-Who, so if Harry looked sick, it must be bad.

"Harry's hooked up to Muggle medical machines by tubes that have been inserted into his chest. It's unnerving to see at first," his mother wrapped her arms around him. "Don't you ever come down with anything that requires serious Muggle medical techniques, you hear me?" she squeezed him tighter.

"Yes, Mum," Ron leaned into his mother's hold, thankful for her comfort, yet wondering whom Harry had. He couldn't even imagine going through something so scary without his mum and dad or worse with Snape. He shuddered. The git probably had Harry scrubbing cauldrons or preparing gross potions ingredients despite his cancer.

"What is it?" his mum pulled away to look at him.

"Is Harry really staying with Snape?"

"Yes, but you'd be surprised how gentle Professor Snape is with him," she pushed his hair away from his eyes. "I think a haircut is in store for you after lunch."

Snape, gentle? Yeah right. Ron wouldn't believe that one in a million years. Snape hated Harry and wouldn't pass up the opportunity to taunt him.

"I know what you're thinking, but really. Something in Professor Snape has changed," she nudged him. "Now get up and come down for lunch before there isn't any left."

Ron's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He sighed but followed his mum downstairs, still wondering how he was going to tell Hermione.

-----

Severus sat in a chair in front of the Headmaster's desk while they waited for Minerva to arrive, his hand resting at his side holding his wand. He refused to say anything until he had sufficient back up. There was no telling what Albus might try to pull though Severus had noticed upon arrival the Headmaster's troubled expression that was perhaps laced with the slightest bit of remorse. Still, Severus wouldn't let his guard down. Harry needed him as he was, whether Harry wished for it or not.

"Tea, my boy?" Albus asked while he poured a cup for himself.

"No, and I am not your boy," Severus growled.

"A lemon drop then?" the Headmaster pushed the infuriating tin across his desk.

The Potions Master snatched the tin off the desk and flung it against the wall. The tin's lid hit just right and dozens of yellow candies flew free, crashing onto the floor and rolling away. "I will not be placated."

"I did what I had to," Albus slumped back in his chair, looking all of his one hundred and some years. "I am sorry-"

"You don't get to apologize!" Severus jumped up and started pacing, his patience on the edge of snapping. "All the years I've taught here, you couldn't think to mention that I had a son?"

"Voldemort wasn't dead," Albus sighed.

"He was dead enough! I could've had ten Dark Lord free years with him!" He felt his magic building up, looking for an escape. "Instead you left him with those abusive relatives, and now Harry resents me!"

Dumbledore's trinkets started to shake.

"Harry needed the protection-"

"Protection? Is that your newest excuse?" Severus spun around to look the Headmaster in the eye. "If you are so convinced I cannot protect my own child, perhaps I shouldn't be trusted with other people's children!"

"Severus," Dumbledore held up a hand to try to soothe him.

"Go ahead! Fire me!" he threw up his hands and a bright light shot up, burning a small hole into the ceiling. "I'll take Harry and hide him away until the war is over! Don't tell me I cannot protect my son!"

"Your what?" Minerva entered the room, her face twisted in confusion. "Would one of you gentlemen care to inform me about what is going on."

"It's nothing," Dumbledore waved for Minerva to sit down. "Severus is just tired."

No. Dumbledore wasn't going to talk his way out of this one. He looked out of the corner of his eye for the opportune moment while he continued his pacing. Harry deserved better than this. Even he as a former Death Eater deserved more than this blatant lying. Harry was his child, and the Headmaster would have to learn that he couldn't treat Harry as a pawn any longer.

Dumbledore turned his head to address Minerva and there was his opportunity. Severus pivoted to face the Headmaster with his wand in hand and spell on his lips.

"Expelliarmus!" Severus flicked his wand at Dumbledore.

A look of surprise crossed the Headmaster's face as his wand flew out of his hand and into Severus'. The Potions Master pocketed the wand after casting a few anti-summoning spells on it.

"Severus Snape! What is the meaning of this?" Minerva wagged her finger at him. "I understand that you're upset at the Headmaster, but that is no way to treat a wizard of his position!"

"I refuse to respect a person who's hidden my son from me for nearly fifteen years!" Severus twirled his wand.

"What?" Minerva yelled. Severus watched her look from him to the Headmaster. "Fifteen years... " she paused. "Harry! Severus, is Harry your son?"

"Yes," Severus nodded, refusing to look Minerva in the eye. Would she accept that her favorite Gryffindor was really his son and not Potter's? While they had always had a good relationship once Severus joined the Hogwarts' staff and even when he was a student for Minerva appreciated his dedication to his studies, she had openly favored Potter and Marauders during his time as a Hogwarts student.

"Albus, you knew?" Minerva whipped her head around to interrogate Dumbledore.

"I did," the Headmaster dropped his head into his hands. "I thought it was best for Harry's protection."

"Yet, it wasn't your choice to make, was it?" Minerva grilled Albus, and the Potions Master couldn't be any happier to have an ally. She had been the perfect choice for someone to back him up.

"No," Dumbledore sighed, his hand reaching up for the angry red envelope that came zooming across the room from the fireplace as the Muggle clock on the office wall chimed two. "Molly has been sending me one, every hour, on the hour since I left the meeting last night."

Severus couldn't help but smirk. It served Albus right to be receiving numerous howlers from the fiery witch. He watched while the Headmaster handled the envelope with his arms extended outward, his fingers touching just enough of the envelope to open it before dropping it onto his desk.

"I cannot believe you, Albus Dumbledore!" Molly's irate voice shrieked. "Not only did you obliviate me, but you did so to convince me that Harry wasn't sick! Have you seen the child lately? I'd be amazed if he could cast a Lumos, let alone any shields or hexes, yet you wish to have him confront You-Know-Who soon?"

He took a step back, making a mental note not to anger Molly anytime soon. The wrath he'd face from her yesterday was nothing compared to how angry she sounded now.

"Harry is in no condition to take part in your plans, and if I even hear that you're still thinking he will, I'll personally be in your office to discuss this misconception that you're disillusioning yourself with! And if that doesn't work, I'll bring up your neglectfulness with the Board! I've heard enough from Fred and George to more than have a case!" Molly's voice threatened. "Oh, and will you please have Severus floo call me at his convenience? Ron is worried about Harry, and I'd like to see about a visit if Harry is up to it."

The Potions Master sighed and ran his hand through his hair. It was inevitable that the youngest Weasley boy would wish to see Harry now, but he wasn't sure if it was in Harry's best interests to mix in a visit in between everything else the boy was dealing with. Although, it could be a wonderful distraction for Harry as long as his child didn't get too worked up over it. He'd have to see how Harry was feeling, emotionally and physically when he returned to his quarters before flooing Molly.

"Severus, who's with Harry right now?" He felt her looking him up and down. The Potions Master tried to stand up straighter and open his eyes wider, but it was no use. He was exhausted, and it wouldn't matter what he tried to do to make himself look otherwise.

"Poppy."

"Good, then perhaps we can move to my quarters and discuss this in a less hostile environment," she glared at Dumbledore. "I don't wish to invade your privacy, but I'd like to know how this happened."

"Of course," Severus agreed. Minerva deserved to know the role she played in the Vow anyhow. "But before we'd leave," Severus looked at Albus once again, "I need to borrow Harry's file."

"I cannot stop you, just as I cannot stop any other parent wishing to view his child's file," Albus stood up and crossed the room to a locked cabinet. "My wand, Severus."

He pulled out the Headmaster's wand and canceled the charms before handing it back to the Headmaster, his own wand remaining in his hand. Severus watched Albus suspend the wards protecting the cabinet and retrieve two folders. One was the standard yellowish color with pieces of parchment falling out it was so thick while the other file was about one-third as thick and pink. "Please remember, I did what I thought was best," Dumbledore said as he handed over the folders, a deep frown set on his face.

Severus took the files and left the Headmaster's office without so much as a nod of thanks.

-----

Darkness swirled around Harry. Screams and cries penetrated through the dark fog, growing louder as Harry felt himself being tugged down. Where, he wasn't sure, but it was growing clearer by the second that the screams and cries were from a person in a horrendous amount of pain.

As Harry fell the dark fog cleared until he was able to see the sickening sight in front of him. Voldemort stood before him, his wand rested casually in his hand. "Hello, Harry," he lips turned up into a dangerous smile. "It was nice of you to join me this afternoon."

"Go away!" Harry screamed, hoping he was experiencing a nightmare and nothing more. He pulled out his wand, aiming it towards the man who had made his life a living hell.

"Not so fast," Voldemort admonished with a lazy wave of his hand. Harry's wand flew out of his grasp and landed at Voldemort's feet. "I believe it's time to punish you for that little stunt Snape pulled. Did he think he could really keep me from coming back?"

"He's here!" Harry lied, his hands shaking as his breaths became shorter and further in between. He tried to calm himself, but without Snape there to guide him, Harry was falling deeper into a panic attack.

"Foolish child! I would feel if that traitor was anywhere near your mind," Voldemort flicked his wand. A purple light shot out from the tip and hit Harry square in the chest. He fell backwards and landed on his rear before five metal straps sprung out from the floor on his right side. The straps flew over his body to the left side, securing themselves to the floor. Then, the straps pushed Harry down until he was laying fully on his back, his arms stuck to his sides and the metal straps tightened until they just cut into his skin, trapping Harry to the floor.

Harry gulped, unable to do anything more than hope that Severus returned from Dumbledore's office and came into his room to check on him because the silencing spells he had set around his bed would keep anyone from hearing his inevitable screams.

"Crucio," Voldemort crouched down and whispered into his ear as he rested his wand an inch from Harry's chest.

His nerves were set on fire and his body convulsed against the metal straps placed across his forehead, upper chest, waist, knees, and ankles. The straps tore into his skin, and the cold metal sent bursts of intense pain up and down his body.

The pain escalated as Harry was kept under the Cruciatus spell. He wished for unconsciousness, anything to escape the pain. He'd rather undergo ten more bone marrow biopsies than writhe under Voldemort's spell for a second longer.

"Not so tough on the inside, are you Harry?" Voldemort kicked him. His body was shoved against the metal straps, piercing his skin.

A metallic smell entered Harry's nose as he felt blood sliding down his skin, but there was nothing he could do. Voldemort had him trapped without a chance for escape, and Snape, the person who was supposed to be protecting him, hadn't come to his rescue.

Harry screamed as he shot up in bed. He leaned over the side of the bed just in time to empty his stomach onto the floor rather than his bed.

-----

Severus lifted one eyelid while he stretched, wondering when he had fallen asleep. Tan walls surrounded him, a wall color not present anywhere in his quarters. He jumped up, scanning the room for more clues.

"Did you sleep well?" a voice asked from behind.

The Potions Master spun around, his wand out and pointed towards the source of the voice.

"Minerva!" Severus lowered his wand. "What did you think you were doing coming behind me like that?"

"I didn't mean to startle you," the Deputy Headmistress walked around the sofa and took a seat in an armchair opposite Severus. "You look much better."

"What?" he blinked. It took a lot for Severus to become confused. For the longest time his life depended upon knowing his surroundings as a spy that it had become natural to always keep his guard up.

"We're in my quarters at Hogwarts," Minerva smiled, not just any smile, but one that looked like she was explaining a new concept to a young child. "After meeting with the Headmaster, you came here to explain how Harry is your son. We then took tea, and you just fell asleep on the sofa."

"I fell asleep?" Severus questioned. Had Dumbledore drugged him? No, he hadn't eaten or drank anything while in the Headmaster's presence. He couldn't have just fallen asleep. He needed to check up on Harry and start to wade through his child's school files to develop a lesson plan that would work for Harry's sixth year courses. Not to mention he still hadn't screened the letters from Harry's friends or started brewing the memory restorative draught.

"Yes, and I'm not surprised you did, Severus. You need to take care of yourself as well as Harry," Minerva chided.

"There's no time. Harry wakes up throughout the night," he explained as he sunk into the sofa. When Minerva had something to say, it was fruitless to try to escape from her. Otherwise, she'd corner him soon enough to have her say except she'd be angry on top of it.

"Do you not remember the first rule when taking care of infants?"

"Harry's not an infant," Severus objected.

"No, but his sleeping patterns are similar. You need to sleep when he does and accept help when help is offered," Minerva floated over a cup of coffee to him.

Severus gladly took the coffee and sipped the warm contents despite Minerva's gentle scolding making him feel like a first year all over again. "How long was I sleeping?"

"Four hours. I flooed Poppy for you, and she was happy to stay there as long as she needed to," Minerva answered.

Severus nodded. Perhaps, his colleague was right. The four uninterrupted hours of sleep had seemed to do wonders to his mental state and overall level of sleep deprivation.

"Take your time and finish your coffee before you leave," Minerva stood up. "I'll be in my study organizing some paperwork, and don't hesitate to ask for help, even if you just need a break for a few hours."

"Thank you," Severus appreciated the offer.

He sat back and enjoyed the silence and peacefulness offered from being alone while he sipped his coffee. He'd follow Minerva's advice to take a few moments for himself before returning to his quarters, refreshed and ready to deal with whatever tantrum Harry decided to grace him with. 

-----

Facing the wall, Harry lay curled up in a ball with his sheet covering him. Anything heavier felt like needles piercing his skin. His whole body shook with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus spell that Voldemort had cast on him and the smallest movement hurt.

His PCA pump button rested in his hand, and Harry kept pressing it every few minutes, but he must've reached the limit because the pain hadn't dulled since the first extra boost.

He whimpered as another burst of pain shot up his spine. That was where the worst pain seemed concentrated. Everywhere else hurt, but every time Harry attempted to roll over or touch his back it brought tears to his eyes.

"Harry," Snape knocked at his doorway. "May I come in?"

"Go away," Harry tucked his arms close to him under the sheet to make the shaking less noticeable. He refused to tell Snape about the mental attack. If Snape could keep secrets, so could he. Besides, he didn't want the man rifling through his mind at the moment anyways. What good would it do when Snape wasn't there when he needed him?

"How are you feeling?" Harry felt the bed dip as Severus sat down and placed his hand on Harry's forehead. His skin felt like it was burning under Snape's hand, but Harry forced himself not to flinch or pull away since it would be a dead giveaway that he wasn't feeling well at all.

"Fine," Harry lied, hoping to get Snape to leave the room as fast as possible. "You've checked on me and seen I haven't done anything to mess up my chemo, so you can go now."

Couldn't Snape see he didn't want him there? It was getting harder and harder to force his body to stay as still as possible, and if Snape noticed the shaking, he'd demand to know what was wrong with him.

"If that's what you really want," the Potions Master sighed. "I'll be in the sitting room if you need anything."

Harry waited until Snape left before sighing with relief. Now, he'd just wait for his nerves to recover. They always did within an hour or so in the past, and Harry couldn't see why this time would be any different.

Severus cast a one-way silencing spell a second before picking up a forgotten glass from the coffee table and throwing it against the wall. It shattered, but even the tiny glittering pieces couldn't appease him. Nothing could unless by some miracle the Headmaster went after the Dark Lord, and the two wizards on top of his current most hated list killed each other for good. 

It was clear the moment Severus saw Harry from the bedroom doorway that his child was in pain and suffering from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse. He had suffered under the curse more than enough times to recognize the symptoms even though Harry was trying to hide them. Yet, the child refused to admit he was in pain and for that he blamed the meddlesome old fool who was probably throwing a funeral for his lost lemon drops.

If the Headmaster had done what he was supposed to and told him that he was Harry's father after the Dark Lord died the first time, they wouldn't be in this situation. The trust between Harry and him would be strong, unbreakable, not this juggling act where the slightest shift threatened to break the fragile wisps of trust that he hoped were still there. If only he hadn't trusted the Headmaster, hadn't walked away from his child...

Severus sunk down onto the sofa. It was his fault no matter how much blame could be placed on others, and now that mistake was coming back to bite him at Harry's expense. He placed his head into his hands, his fingers setting to work on his temples to combat his ever-present migraine. He had so much to do, but he couldn't concentrate on anything until he knew the extent of the Dark Lord's damage and Harry's pain levels were managed.

It was a bad sign that the Dark Lord could apparently send curses through the strange connection they shared. Albus had never been forthcoming with the theories he had concerning Harry's scar, and Severus wasn't sure he wanted to know them. The connection's characteristics reeked of the darkest magic, which didn't bode well for his child. Their Occlumency lessons, the only known thing that would combat the connection, needed to be more frequent and intense, but the side effects from chemotherapy made that difficult.

Severus cursed. Everything Harry suffered and was currently suffering through was his fault, even his cancer. The Potions Master couldn't help but think that if he hadn't walked away on that fateful night that Harry's entire future would've been different, more normal. Severus wished he could switch places with his son. He was the one who made the decision, and he should have to suffer for it, not Harry. The child had done nothing to deserve to have a madman and cancer after his life.

"Sir," a shaky, pained voice startled Severus enough to nearly fall off the sofa.

"Harry," he breathed, taking in his son's appearance. Harry was leaning heavily against the back of the chair, his whole body trembling, and any hint of color that Harry had left on his face was gone. "Come sit down," Severus jumped up and approached his son slowly, making sure Harry noticed before he set his hands on his child's shoulders.

"Hurts," Harry whispered as he closed his eyes and leaned into Severus' touch.

"I know," he helped his child to the sofa with one hand while pushing the infusion pump with the other. "Lay down." Severus propped up a few large throw pillows at one end of the sofa for Harry to recline back on before summoning a certain large silver blanket from the linen closet. "This should help," he said, catching the blanket out of the air and spreading it out over Harry.

"It feels strange," Harry curled into a ball.

"The blanket is charmed to help with the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse," Severus sat down on the edge of the coffee table near his son's head.

"But how-"

"Did you really think I, a former Death Eater spy, wouldn't notice?" Severus reached over to brush a stray lock out of Harry's eyes.

"You didn't come," Harry accused, his emerald green eyes piercing into him. "You said I wasn't alone, that I was safe here."

"Did I not feel a silencing charm surrounding your bed upon my return?" he arched his eyebrow. "Madam Pomfrey would've called for me if she had heard, and I would've come instantly, Harry."

"I forgot," the child blushed. "I was angry, still am, but it hurts so much."

"You should've told me right away, silly brat. You don't have to suffer," Severus stood up.

"Where are you going?" Harry rushed out, his hand grasping onto Severus' trouser leg.

"I'm going to floo Miss Adamson so she can either up your morphine dosage or get you something else for your pain," he pried his son's fingers off.

"Can't you just give me something?" the child's hand grabbed onto his trouser leg again.

"Harry," Severus forced himself not to sigh. "While I could give you one extra dose of morphine, Miss Adamson needs to know about this."

"Why? It doesn't have anything to do with my cancer. She doesn't need to know about this," Harry pointed to his scar.

Severus counted to ten. He understood why Harry wished to keep the latest incident from Miss Adamson, but it was possible Harry sustained nerve damage that could be exacerbated by the chemotherapy drugs. It worried him that his son was still feeling the after effects so sharply. The pain should've died down to a bearable level by now. How long had the Dark Lord kept him under the curse?

"It shouldn't be so painful still, should it?" Harry's voice returned to a scared whisper.

"No," Severus admitted, retaking his seat on the edge of the coffee table. "It would be best if we flooed Miss Adamson and let her examine you. She might have some cream or knows of a salve that I can make that's safe to use. I can't give you the potion I developed to help with nerve damage from the Cruciatus Curse."

Harry curled into a tighter ball and whimpered. "Professor, please," he begged.

"What just happened?" Severus took the child's hand into his. "Did the pain get worse?"

"It's shooting up my back," Harry dug his nails into the Potions Master's palm. "It hurts."

"Breathe through it," he encouraged, positive Harry's nails would draw blood. "Concentrate on the sound of waves crashing against the shore. You're at the beach with your toes at the water's edge, ready to take a swim in the warm ocean water," Severus used the familiar words from their guided meditation sessions. "The sun is out and not a cloud is in the sky. You're walking out into the water, your feet sinking slightly in the sand with each step."

"It stopped," the child's nails ended their assault on his palm.

"I'm going to floo Miss Adamson then," Severus rose and moved away before his son could grasp onto him or his clothes again. The sooner Miss Adamson arrived, the sooner they'd know how much damage the Dark Lord did and more importantly, the sooner Harry's pain would be alleviated. 

------

Ron watched as Pig flew away with his letter to Hermione until she became too small to see. He sighed before turning to face the corner of his room. Crumpled up balls of parchment surrounded a small rubbish bin. Ron walked over to the bin and looked in to see that exactly three crumpled up balls had made it in. Well, at least he had made three. The Gryffindor knelt down on the floor and began to gather up the balls of parchment and place them in the rubbish bin before his mother could complain.

"Hey," Ginny called from the doorway. "Are you finished with Hermione's letter then?"

"Yeah. I already sent it with Pig," Ron spun on his knees to look towards the doorway. "You didn't have a letter for Hermione, did you?"

"No. Mum needs to go back to the Burrow to pick up a few things we forgot. Tonks and Moody already made sure it was safe, so Mum wants us to go with her. She said we could fly while she gathers up the things on her list," Ginny shrugged.

"I really don't feel like flying, not when... you know," Ron threw a ball of parchment towards the rubbish bin only for it to hit the edge and bounce off.

"Yeah, me neither," Ginny sighed, moving into the room to take a seat on Ron's bed.

"Do you think Harry will be okay?" Ron gave up cleaning up his mess to lean back against the wall.

"I don't know. I tried to look cancer up in the library, but Mum chased me out once she figured out what I was looking for," Ginny shrugged. "I wish we could see him."

"Yeah, but Mum says we have to wait for Snape to invite us. Like that'll ever happen," Ron rolled his eyes. Snape would never willingly let them visit Harry in his quarters.

"Ron! Ginny! Grab your brooms! We're leaving, and I don't care if you want to go or not. You will come with and at least pretend to have fun and fly!" their Mum's voice yelled up.

Ron and Ginny shared a look of resentment before getting up to retrieve their flying gear and meeting their mother downstairs. It was useless to resist, as she'd just force them to anyways.

-----

Harry watched the professor, err his father walk away from the sofa. He was still angry and confused about Snape apparently being his father, but at least the man was getting Miss Adamson so she could take the pain away. It hurt so much, more than all of the previous times Voldemort sent the Cruciatus Curse his way combined. It was like sharp, tiny needles were continuously poking every inch of his body. He hadn't wanted to leave his room and put his anger towards Snape aside, but he couldn't stand the pain any longer. Harry had to get help or otherwise he'd go mad.

Closing his eyes, Harry tried to return to the beach. He hated to admit it, but Snape's guided meditation tactics had helped him through the last shot of pain, yet without Severus' voice to guide him, Harry didn't get any further than hearing waves off in the distance.

"She's coming," Snape tried to reassure him, his hand ghosting over Harry's shoulder. "It'll be okay."

Harry nodded, appreciating that Severus was careful not to put any pressure on his skin and irritating his nerves further. However, the touch itself was comforting, reminding him he wasn't alone no matter how much his mind told him he was.

"I explained the situation to her, so you wouldn't have to tell her."

"Thanks," he sighed, wishing once more he was just a normal wizarding teenager with normal teenage issues. Ron complained regularly about being overlooked in his family, but Harry would give anything to have such a small issue be his main complaint.

"Harry?" he heard Miss Adamson's cheerful voice above his head, "I'm going to give you an extra dose of morphine, and then I'd like to talk to you a bit while we wait for it to kick in before I examine you, okay?"

"Yeah," Harry opened his eyes, surprised to find Snape sitting on the coffee table again. He expected Snape to be on the other side of the room now that Miss Adamson was here. The man had given him up after all, why would he change his mind, especially about a sick teenager that was number one on Voldemort's hit list? Did Snape feel obligated to take care of him since he was his son? Harry refused to believe that the Professor gave him up to protect him and then obliviated himself. Snape was too good of an occlumens to not notice the obliviation.

"There," Miss Adamson scooted the chair closer to the couch before sitting down. "You should start to feel better soon. If not, tell me."

"Okay," Harry hugged the blanket around him closer, scared of the coming questions.

"Harry, I need you to answer my questions as best you can. It's possible that we may need to change some of your chemotherapy drugs-"

"But the chemo is the only option," he pushed himself up to sit, grimacing as a wave of intense pain flooded his body. "I can't, I don't want to die."

"Miss Adamson isn't implying your treatments will stop," Severus moved to sit down next to him. Unconsciously, Harry leaned against his professor's side. "There are several different chemotherapy drugs, and we may need to switch which ones you're receiving."

"Oh," Harry felt stupid as Snape wrapped an arm around his shoulder. One thing Harry knew without a doubt was that Snape wouldn't let him die if he could at all prevent it. The man had saved him too many times in the past to just let him die now.

"Is the pain you're experiencing typical after a mental encounter with You-Know-Who?" Miss Adamson asked with a small pad of paper sitting in her lap and a never-out quill in her hand.

"Yes-"

"Harry," Snape warned him.

"No," Harry amended with a sigh. Couldn't Snape let him finish a sentence before assuming what his intentions were? "The pain is typical so yes, but usually it fades a lot faster, and it doesn't get worse."

"Gets worse?" Miss Adamson stopped writing to look up at him. "Do you mean periods of escalated pain that come and go?"

Harry nodded. "They really hurt, more than it already does."

"Have the flares been occurring frequently, as in multiple times an hour?"

"I think so," Harry tried to gauge the time between the episodes that were apparently called flares, but it was hard since his body was having a hard time keeping any sense of time with his out of whack sleep pattern.

"On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, what would you say is your pain level?" the Specialist asked as Harry watched her scribble down note after note.

"Fifteen," he answered right away. He had a high pain tolerance from growing up at the Dursleys, and it was the unbearable pain that caused him to come out and seek Snape's help. He couldn't stand lying in his bed waiting for it to lessen any longer.

"And has the pain lessened now?"

"A little," Harry conceded. He no longer wished for unconsciousness to claim him and take away the pain, but needles still felt like they were jabbing his skin.

"Good. Can you lie down? The lab results are in, and I'd like to share them with you both, and then I'll proceed with my examination. Okay?" Miss Adamson said as she retrieved a few sheets of parchment from her pocket.

"Okay," Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he was ready to hear anymore bad news, but maybe the test results were actually good and that's why she hadn't spoken with Snape first?

"To lie down, you'll need to sit up first so I may get out of your way," the Professor said softly in his ear.

"Oh... yeah," Harry forgot he'd been leaning against Snape, angry he had let himself seek Snape out for comfort. He had himself to rely on and no one else. Everyone else always broke their promises, and Snape was proving to be no exception. How could Harry expect to trust to the man that gave him up as an innocent baby? As soon as it grew too much for Snape to handle again, he'd throw Harry out, pass him on to someone else.

Harry pushed Snape's arm off him and sat up before leaning the other way until his head and side hit the pillows and soft surface of the sofa, a wince forming on his face. When Snape moved and took up his post on the coffee table again, Harry lifted his legs and set them down slowly on the sofa, giving his legs time to adjust to the contact with the soft fabric before transferring weight onto his limbs.

"Your ANC count has dropped to 1483.  Below 1000 is what we consider as neutropenia and with that comes a higher risk of infection. It's expected that your counts will continue to nosedive, but as horrible as it sounds, it's a sign the chemotherapy is starting to effect your body and hopefully killing off all the cancerous cells," Miss Adamson smiled.

Harry looked at the Specialist as if she were speaking Greek. The medical information meant absolutely nothing to him, and he really didn't want to understand it. He just wanted to take and receive whatever medications and infusions would get rid of his leukemia and go on with his life.

"I have even better news," Harry watched her look from him to Snape. "The results from the spinal tap are in, and after testing the sample twice, there were no cancerous cells found in Harry's spinal fluid."

Snape snapped his gaze from Harry to Miss Adamson. "None?" The Professor's tone was hopeful and Harry thought he saw the corners of Snape's lips turn slightly upwards. The reaction was so completely unlike Snape that Harry almost forgot for a moment that he hated the man.

"None," Miss Adamson confirmed with a wide smile. "We'll continue with the current series of intrathecal chemotherapy, but there's no reason to add any additional injections at this time."

"Harry?" Snape placed his hand over Harry's. "This is good news. It means less needle sticks and no radiation."

"Radiation?" Harry questioned. They hadn't mentioned that before.

"It's a process that involves shooting radioactive waves at you in order to kill off cancer cells," Snape explained, a light, happy tone lacing his voice.

"Oh, that's good then," Harry responded trying to sound happy. He got that the news was good, and that he should be happier, but it was so hard to focus on that when Voldemort's latest attack still left him with pain and trembling limbs.

"In addition, I've contacted a Muggle hospital in London that we have contacts with and blood and platelets on the way to St. Mungo's for transfusion. Severus, I brought along the forms to sign along with the new consent forms for Harry's treatments," Miss Adamson took a stack of forms from her robes pocket and handed them over to the git.

Harry glared at both of them. When were they going to inform him that he needed a transfusion? After Miss Adamson had already hooked him up to it? "Why did you need to contact a Muggle hospital?"

"You know that each and every wizard and witch has their own magical signature, right?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Well, like Muggles, a wizard's blood contains DNA, but it also contains a trace of his magical signature. When you mix two magical people's blood together, it can cause a severe reaction because the magic may be incompatible. That's why we normally use Blood Replenishing potions instead. A Muggle's blood, of course, has no such magical properties to it, and so it makes it safe to transfuse," the Specialist stood up from her chair. "Are you ready to get the examination over?"

----- 

Severus stood up and walked over to the fireplace to give Miss Adamson room to examine his son. Harry had made it more than clear he was angry with him, but Severus wanted to be there in case his child needed him or decided to suspend his anger. He couldn't blame Harry, but it didn't make it any easier for Severus to stand back while his child was clearly in a great deal of pain.

"I'm going to examine you gently with my hands, okay sweetie?" Miss Adamson kneeled on the floor beside the sofa. "Let me know if it hurts."

The Potions Master watched the Specialist take Harry's right hand and barely squeeze it. Harry murmured a weak ouch and that was enough for Severus to start pacing. He couldn't watch while Miss Adamson tested his son's response to touch, and it seemed that each new spot brought a louder complaint from his child. How many spots did she need to test anyway? It was clear Harry was in pain from head to toe. Couldn't she continue by scanning the child's body with her wand?

"Please," Harry cried.

That was enough. Severus couldn't handle hearing the pain filled noises coming from his child's mouth. He strode down the hall to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath, unaware he had been holding it as he leaned against the heavy wooden door.

Severus knew the tactile tests were necessary, had even administered a few while studying Muggle medical techniques, but it had proven too much to see and hear the same tests administered to his child. He couldn't get the desperate, pain filled voice out of his head. If only Harry had anything else but cancer, Severus could take the child's pain away with a simple potion, but it wasn't even safe for Harry to enter the lab with his weakening immune system.

The Potions Master turned around and punched the door. It wasn't fair! He could cure nearly any illness with a few hours and a list of ingredients, but not the one his child was suffering from. What good were potions when they failed you the moment you really needed them?

Punching the door one last time, Severus regained his composure. He needed to show Harry he really cared for him, and he wasn't doing that hiding in his room. Severus wanted to be there for his child, wanted to be the child's father in more ways than biologically. So, with his emotions steeled away, Severus returned to the sitting room to find Harry curled up in a tiny ball, hidden under the silver blanket while Miss Adamson sat in the chair pulled up to the sofa, a frown covering her face. 

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! 

Severus watched Harry enter the hallway before walking through the door to the entrance hall and letting out a deep breath. He was happy Harry was ready to see one of his friends, but wasn't sure if his child blurted out his request in his excitement over his Potions grade, or if he was really ready to see Mr. Weasley. Either way, Severus would honor Harry's request, but keep a close watch to make sure Mr. Weasley didn't upset his son. The redhead had a tendency to blurt out whatever was on his mind, and those words could do some damage to his child's fragile mental state. He'd just have to prepare Mr. Weasley and hope for the best. After all, his son didn't need another reason to resent him.

Sliding his wand out of its holster, Severus adjusted the wards on the floo to temporarily allow access to and from Grimmauld Place. He refused to allow anyone unrestricted access to his floo except for Miss Adamson for the sake of security, but also to keep guests from showing up anytime they wished to see Harry unannounced, giving Harry the upper hand in deciding if he was up to seeing anyone.

Severus supposed he should contact his parents concerning the recent discovery as they had a right to know they had a grandson, but he hadn't the energy to deal with them, or the scolding his mother would direct at him. He would have to contact them soon before he filed the papers to make Harry his legal heir. The Potions Master added it to his mental list of the many things he needed to do if only he had some time to do it. Maybe he'd ask Minerva if she were free to sit with Harry tomorrow morning so he could run some of his errands and brew a potion or two.

But before he could even think about tomorrow, Severus had to get through the evening, including a visit he needed to arrange before Harry came to ask what was taking so long. So without further delay, he threw down a pinch of floo powder and called out Grimmauld Place before sticking his head into the green flames.

"Mr. Weasley," Severus greeted a twin, Fred, he deemed by the boy's stirring technique.

"Professor Snape," Fred jumped in surprise and turned around to block Severus' view of the cauldron he was stirring. "Did you need something?"

"I need to speak to your mother if she has a moment, though I suggest you banish that mess before it explodes," Severus raised an eyebrow at the boy, wondering what the twins were trying to accomplish with this latest experiment. By the looks of the sizzling cauldron, it appeared they had added an ingredient or two that didn't balance with the others.

"Right," Fred banished the potion, a sheepish look on his face. "We weren't trying to brew anything dangerous, honest, just a twist on the Shrinking Potion."

"With the aim to alter the potion to allow your products undetected passage into Hogwarts no doubt," Severus deducted.

"How did you... never mind," Fred groaned, stashing the cauldron and ingredients under a cloak in the corner. "Please don't tell Mum about the potion. She'll kill us."

"And yet you were brewing in clear sight of the floo. Surely even you managed to pick up some sense during your years at Hogwarts."

"Mum avoids the floo, so this room is safe for experiments," Fred pulled on the bottom of his shirt. "I'll just go get her." Fred backed out of the room and turned to run the moment he crossed the threshold.

Severus rolled his eyes. He hated to admit it, but the Weasley twins had a lot of untapped potential if only they had concentrated on their studies instead of their silly experiments that had no use in the war. 

"Severus," Molly entered the room with a tired smile on her face. "Would you like to come through?"

"Thank you for the offer, but I can't leave Harry," he shifted on his knees, adding buying a better rug to his list.

"Do you need someone to sit with him?" Molly took a seat on the sofa in front of the floo.

"Actually, Harry asked if the youngest Mr. Weasley could floo over for a visit?"

"Oh! Of course Ron can visit," Molly jumped up. "Is Harry feeling better then?"

"At the moment, yes. Will you send Mr. Weasley through before it gets late?" Severus asked, wanting the visit to happen before Harry grew tired again.

"I'll go get him and send him through now. When should I expect him back?" Molly smiled.

"Two hours should be sufficient," Severus hoped the visit went well enough to last that long.

"That sounds wonderful, and Severus let me know if you need anything. There isn't much to do around here except clean up the place, so I'm free if you should need anything."

"Thank you," Severus nodded before pulling his head out of the floo and standing up, his knees cracking, to straighten his shirt. He cast a wandless cleansing and sanitizing charm over his clothes, and then stood back to wait for Mr. Weasley to appear.

A few minutes later the redhead stumbled out of the floo. "Hello, sir." He was dressed in a loose red tee shirt and holey jeans with dirt and grass stains on the knees.

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley," Severus waved the teen over to the sink. "Has your mother informed you of the precautions that are needed before you may see Mr. Potter?"

"Yes," the teen shifted from one foot to the other. "I know not to tell anyone about Harry's condition."

"Clearly you weren't listening to your mother, or you would've done something about your clothes before you came," Severus halfway rolled his eyes before stopping himself. This was Harry's friend he was talking to, even if it was an imbecilic Gryffindor.

"My clothes are fine!" Mr. Weasley's face turned as red as his hair. "I didn't know Hogwarts uniform was required during the summer."

"It isn't, and I wasn't talking about your clothes themselves, but the dirt and grass stains on them-"

"Mum took Ginny and I to the Burrow so we could fly, so I got a little dirty. What does that have to do with seeing Harry?" the teen glared, but the glare wouldn't even affect a first year Hufflepuff.

Severus sighed before conjuring a chair. Perhaps he was going about this conversation all-wrong. His goal was to prepare the teen to see his son, not give the teen more fuel to feed Harry's current resentment towards him. "Mr. Weasley, please take a seat. There are things you need to know before you may see Mr. Potter."

"Is he okay?" the Gryffindor blurted out as he plopped down into the chair. "He's not unconscious or anything, is he?"

"No, he's feeling rather well at the moment," Severus walked to stand in front of the lanky teen. "Mr. Potter's immune system, the system that keeps you well by fighting off anything we catch, is compromised because of his treatments. To ensure that Mr. Potter, " Severus inwardly cringed at the continued use of the Potter name in reference to his son, "doesn't get any sicker, precautions are taken."

"Like what?" the youngest Weasley looked at him, really paying attention to the words he said for the first time.

"Grass stains and dirt for one naturally carry millions of microbes that normally doesn't make a person sick, but for someone in your friend's condition, exposure to them could cause him to develop an infection that he'd have a hard time overcoming," the Potions Master explained being careful to keep his tone neutral and not condescending.

"Oh," Weasley looked down at his clothes. "Do I need to floo home and change?"

Severus waved his hand towards the Gryffindor and spelled the boy's clothes clean and sanitized. "Not this time, Mr. Weasley, but be advised for future visits."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry,"

"It is alright Mr. Weasley, but do pay more attention to the things spoken to you. Has your mother explained the Muggle techniques Mr. Potter is receiving to combat his leukemia?" Severus leaned against the wall his arms crossed.

"Somewhat. Mum said Harry's hooked up to a bunch of Muggle machines, and so he has tubes sticking out of him," the teen shivered.

"That is correct. It may appear frightening, but I assure you Mr. Potter is fine. Remember he is the same person he's always been, and that staring at him or the things he's hooked up to may make him feel uncomfortable," he gave the Gryffindor a hard look to make sure the thickheaded teen got the message.

"Right," Mr. Weasley gulped. "Is that all?"

"Do you feel comfortable with seeing Mr. Potter given the information you just received?" Severus hoped the boy would admit if he weren't comfortable now before they entered through the entryway and to his private quarters.

"Yes, sir," Ron nodded.

"Good. You'll need to wash your hands at the sink here," he took three steps towards the sink before stepping on a pedal that turned the sink on and washed his own hands, "before you may enter. I'd also like to advise you not to touch any of Mr. Potter's medical devices or tubes."

Severus watched the Gryffindor nod again before following his lead and washing his hands in the sink. Then, he showed the teen through the entryway into his quarters where Harry was sitting on the sofa with an excited smile reaching his eyes.

"Ron!" Harry waved the teen over to the sofa. "You'll never believe it!"

"Harry..." Mr. Weasley's voice cracked.

The Potions Master watched the redhead slow his pace and look at Harry with wide, frightened eyes. It wasn't the reaction he hoped for, but it wasn't the worst at least. Still, he needed to stay close to ensure Harry handled seeing Weasley well, and that Weasley wasn't his typical rash self. Keeping a close watch on the two boys, Severus stepped into the kitchen and filled a carafe charmed to keep its contents cool with apple juice before setting it onto a tray where he also set two glasses and a plate of chocolate chip biscuits.

Harry rambled excitedly about his Potions grade oblivious to Mr. Weasley's scared expression, and he couldn't help but let a small smile creep onto his face. He'd been waiting for something to excite his son to show him that Harry was in there under all the recent setbacks, and not broken to the point of giving up. Severus needed Harry to keep fighting so he could show his son how to live like he'd promised, to give his child more reasons to smile.

Picking up the tray, he walked into the living room, rounded the sofa, and set the tray down on the coffee table for the two boys with a slight clang to announce his presence. "Is apple juice okay, Mr. Weasley, or would you prefer pumpkin juice?"

"Apple juice is fine," Weasley jumped, his eyes darting from Harry to him.

"Thanks, Professor!" Harry beamed, stopping his rambling to turn towards the tray and holding out his slightly trembling hands to reach for one of the glasses.

Severus grabbed the glass before Harry could spill and bring attention to the trembling that remained in his limbs. He poured each child a glass hiding the slight movement in his hand, a spill proof charm on Harry's glass. "Do you need anything else?"

"No," Harry shook his head.

"Okay," the Potions Master picked up his pile of parchment from the coffee table before walking over to his child and squeezing Harry's shoulder so lightly it could hardly be considered a squeeze. "I'll be in the kitchen should you need me."

The child gave him a slight nod, and Severus retreated to the kitchen island where he situated himself on a stool in clear view of Harry and Weasley. He checked to make sure the two boys were okay again from his vantage point, and then summoned Harry's school files to examine and work out a schedule for his son that would hopefully keep Harry on pace with his year mates and give both of them a sense of normalcy.

*~AIE~*

Harry held out his grade report to show Ron. "Oh, and Professor Snape said he'll let me into his NEWT Potions class, though I won't be going to classes at the beginning of term, so I guess it makes sense,"Harry stopped to take a breath. He couldn't help but talk. He was too happy to sit there quietly, especially now that Ron was there to chat with. "Have I mentioned that Professor Snape will be teaching Defense, too? He and Dumbledore made some sort of deal where Professor Snape only has to teach NEWT classes," Harry paused, waiting for Ron's reaction, but none came. "Ron?"

"Harry?" Ron croaked, his eyes traveling down Harry's body. "Are you okay?"

Wrapping the silver blanket back around him despite not being cold or in pain, Harry looked towards the fireplace. "I'm fine."

"You look terrible."

"I said I'm fine," Harry said, his voice taking on a stern tone. He didn't want to talk about how he was feeling or the hell that was the chemotherapy treatments. He'd had enough of that living it. Couldn't Ron just drop it and stick to their grades, school, or quidditch? "How are the Chudley Cannons doing?"

"The Cannons?" Ron sputtered, looking at him as if he'd grown a third eye.

"Have they won a game yet this season?" Harry hoped that if he peeked Ron's interest in his favorite team that he'd forget about his condition for the moment.

"You'll be able to play, won't you?" Ron snapped his head up to look at him. "Dumbledore can surely undo Umbridge's ban, and we need you to beat Slytherin."

"No, it's not safe," Harry left out that it was hard enough walking across the room never mind flying around looking for a temperamental gold ball. "But Miss Adamson gave me a practice snitch so that I'm ready for when I can play."

"Merlin, mate. Can you even attend classes?"

"Not at first because of my immune system," Harry sighed. Ron apparently hadn't heard a single thing he said. "Professor Snape has it worked it out so I won't fall behind, and I should be able to play quidditch seventh year. Everything's fine."

"There's no way you're fine. Just look at all those tube things sticking out of you, and you look like you haven't eaten in weeks," Ron gestured towards the tubing sticking out of his chest.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, Harry resituated the blanket to block Ron's view of the Hickman's tubing snaking its way out of his henley. "Drop it," Harry whispered, his eyes focused on his blanket-clad knees.

"Just truthfully answer me one question," Ron's voice was pleading, but he refused to look up. "Are you dying?"

"Mr. Weasley!" Severus swooped in and grabbed Ron by his shirt collar. "Visiting hours are up."

"But this isn't St. Mungo's," Ron argued as he was escorted towards the entryway, his body twisting to escape the Professor's grip.

"No, but these are my quarters, and I have every right to dictate the time visitors are allowed," Snape trapped Ron's hands behind his back. "Are you done acting like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum or must I put you in a body bind before I send you back to your parents?"

"Harry, help!" Ron's eyes locked with Harry's, and he saw anger, mistrust, betrayal, and a hint of fear in his friend's blue eyes.

Harry looked away, instead searching out to meet Severus' gaze. A feeling of warmth and security that Harry wasn't sure he welcomed washed over him as his eyes locked with his prof's... no his father's eyes. "Ron, please just go. I'm fine, really," Harry forced a smile on his face. "Just tired."

"Don't forget to sniff your food, mate. You never know what Snape's been sticking in it," Ron yelled as Severus dragged his friend through the entryway.

Sighing, Harry reached for his glass of apple juice and took a drink. The plate of biscuits remained untouched and although they looked tempting, he wasn't going to risk his recent throw-up free streak. Besides, he wasn't hungry anyway.

"Harry?" Severus sat down next to him on the sofa.

"I'm fine," he whispered, not looking up from the coffee table.

"Okay," his professor wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Harry leaned against the man's side burying his head in Severus' shoulder as he felt warmth and security wrap around him, giving in to his subconscious' desire to seek out comfort from the man who was apparently his father.

A few minutes later Severus shifted and Harry heard him whisper a soft accio followed by a book floating through the air and landing in Severus' lap. He looked down to see the thick blue book with weird symbols on it from the library that he'd been curious about, but couldn't see himself finishing.

"The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien," Severus read after he slipped his reading glasses on and flipped open the book to the first page. "Concerning Hobbits."

Harry listened as Severus read about the tiny peaceful creatures known as hobbits with hairy feet that lived in the Shire, particularly one, Bilbo Baggins, who had found a magic ring that when worn made him invisible. The Potions Master continued reading on with The Fellowship of the Ring. 

The whole time Harry stayed curled up against Severus' side, his eyes closed not because he was tired, but because he was imagining the new world being described to him. Were the elves and dwarfs like the ones they studied in Care of Magical Creatures or completely different? For that matter, was the book magical or Muggle? Harry forced his thoughts to the back of his head for fear of missing an important paragraph.

"Thank you," Harry whispered as he heard Severus shut the book after finishing chapter one with the wizard, Gandalf, leaving to find more information on the ring Bilbo had passed onto Frodo.

"For what, child?" the Potions Master asked, his tone questioning as if he wasn't sure what Harry was thanking him for.

"You came," Harry explained, calm and distracted from Ron's visit. He felt Severus tighten his grip around him as a tiny smile crept its way onto his face. Was this what it was like to have a father? 

Ron tumbled out of the floo at 12 Grimmauld Place, landing on his back with a thud as his head hit the floor. He hadn't been able to regain his balance after Snape had pushed him into the green flames and sent him spinning back to his temporary home.

"Ugh," he grumbled. The lights from the overhead chandelier spun in circles forcing him to close his eyes.

"Look Fred, Ickle Ronniekins is back. Hold him down!" George shouted.

Fred plopped down on his knees and pinned his arms to his side. "Hurry!"

"Get off me!" Ron struggled to push Fred off him, but his hands kept grabbing air, still seeing double or sometimes triple.

"No way, little brother. You lost the bet," George unwrapped a piece of taffy like candy over his head. "Open up."

Ron shook his head, but it was no use. He was outnumbered. George grabbed his head and pried open his mouth, holding it open until Fred replaced his hands on Ron's arms with his feet and popped the candy into his mouth. It rolled into the back of his mouth in a perfect place to spit it out, but the twins had that covered, too. One twin covered his mouth while the other one pinched his nose forcing him to chew and swallow the experimental candy.

"Boys!" their mother yelled from the doorway. "Let your brother go! Now!"

Sighing, Fred and George released him before standing up. "It was his fault!" the twins said in sync, each one pointing to the other.

"I don't care whose fault it is! You shouldn't attack your brother like that!" their mum pulled her wand out and aimed a stinging hex at each twin.

"Ow!" George rubbed his arm.

"You are both to go to your room now and stay there until morning!" she kneeled down next to him. "Are you alright, Ron?"

"But Mum, you can't ground us! We're of age!" Fred stayed frozen in place.

"I don't care if you're Dumbledore's age! You're both grounded to your room until morning! Don't make me add another day or set a locking charm to the door and take away your wands," Mrs. Weasley gave her sons a stern look.

"Come on, Fred," George grabbed his twin by the arm and whispered something into his ear as he guided him towards the door.

"Ron?" she turned her attention to him. "What did they make you eat this time?"

"I don't know," Ron sat up with the help of his mother, his hair changing to hot pink.

"Oh dear," his mum patted his shoulder. "At least it's not harmful."

"What?" his hair switched to a pastel purple.

"It seems that every time you talk, your hair turns color," she grabbed a throw pillow off the sofa and transfigured it into a mirror. "Take a look."

Ron took the mirror from his mother, his eyes growing wide at the sight of himself with purple hair. "Please tell me there's not an Order meeting tonight," his hair turned green, Slytherin green. He couldn't be seen by many of his professors and possible future coworkers with ever-changing hair! It was too embarrassing.

"No dear, there isn't. Let's get you up to bed and with any luck it'll wear off by the morning," she stood up and offered a hand down to him. Ron took his mum's hand, glad for the extra support since his world hadn't yet stopped spinning all the way. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so," Ron brought his free hand up to the back of his head, feeling a small bump. "Maybe, but not from Fred and George. Ugh, what color now?"

"Teal," she tilted his head back. "I can't see anything, but you're getting too tall, so I'll look once we get up to your room and you're sitting down. Come now." His mum put a hand on his shoulder and steered him towards the door as the floo spit a letter onto the hearth. "Hold on."

Letting go of Ron's shoulder, she hurried over to the floo and picked up the letter. He saw her eyes widen before breaking the seal and proceeding to read the missive. "Ronald Bilius Weasley! How could you? I know I raised you better!" she gave him the look and Ron darted without a second's thought. If he ran fast enough, he might be able to convince the twins to let him seek shelter in their room.

*~AIE~*

After a small dinner of grilled cheese and soup, which Harry managed to eat half a sandwich and more than a few bites of soup, Severus cleaned up the kitchen while Harry started on his summer Potions homework. He could hear wood creaking from Harry swinging his legs along with the crinkle of the pages turning and the scratching of a quill. It felt strange, but oddly normal. He couldn't help but wonder if this would become routine and that if it were, he could see himself getting used to it. There was something so right about cleaning up after not one but two people while his son started tackling a new assignment.

"Severus?" Harry called, his voice tentative as if the child wasn't sure he should be calling him by his given name.

"Yes, Harry?" the Potions Master responded, sanitizing the last counter.

"Can you bring me some more apple juice when you're finished?"

"And just what am I? A house-elf?" Severus rolled his eyes, holding back a laugh that threatened to escape his throat. One so called rescue and Harry's attitude towards him flipped 180 degrees. No doubt the change was temporary. After all, he'd just told the child that morning of their newfound familial relationship, but he'd enjoy it while he could.

"I just thought..." Harry trailed off, his voice laced with disappointment.

Perhaps he hadn't put enough inflection in his tone. "I was joking, child. I'll bring you more apple juice in a second," Severus peeked around the corner to the dining alcove.

"Thanks!" Harry's frown turned into a smile before returning to his text.

"You're welcome, though next time you might think to add please into your request," he washed his hands before grabbing the jug of apple juice from the cold cabinet.

"Oh, right. Sorry!"

Teenagers! Severus shook his head. Hadn't anyone taught the child manners? He paused as he realized his mistake. Who would've taught him? Those horrid Muggles? Well, Severus would just have to remedy that over the summer.

"Are you at a stopping point?" he poured more apple juice into his child's glass.

"The section ends after this page," Harry's finger pointed to a line of text that he was copying into his notes. The end of the quill shook, exaggerating the remaining trembling in his child's hands. Severus looked down at the parchment noting Harry's handwriting appeared messier than usual. He also didn't fail to notice how slow the child was writing. He added inquiring and researching exercises to improve his son's control over his hands to his growing mental list.

"Once you're finished with that section, stop. There's a few things we need to discuss, including why I called you Mr. Prince earlier."

"Okay," Harry snapped his head up while reaching for the inkwell. His quill hit the edge and tipped the inkwell over. Black ink splattered onto the table. A few droplets made its way towards Harry's textbook, but Severus grabbed the inkwell and placed it back onto the table before the splatters could turn into a river. With a swish of his wand, the spilled ink vanished without leaving a stain on the table or Harry's text.

"I'm sorry! I could've cleaned it up," his child looked towards the kitchen, probably to see if he could spot the place Severus kept the cleaning supplies.

Yes, those hand exercises were definitely needed. Until then, perhaps he should visit a Muggle stationary store tomorrow to pick up a few Muggle pens and notebooks. It took a lot less control and finesse to use a pen in comparison to a quill, not to mention the exclusion of an inkwell.

"It was a harmless accident. You're not the first person to tip over an inkwell nor will you be the last," Severus cursed the Muggles in his head. "Finish your section."

Harry nodded and with extra care dipped the quill into the inkwell.

How much damage had the Dursleys caused? Was Harry prone to having random reactions harking back to their treatment of him until Severus brought up the subject and his son healed from it? Severus took a seat at the table opposite his child. Why had his younger self thought a self-obliviation was a good idea again?

"I'm really sorry. I...my hands..." Harry stopped writing and set down his quill.

"I know, child," Severus reached across the table and took his child's hands into his own. "I wasn't blaming you, but thinking what your relatives must've done to you for you to react that way," he chose his words carefully not wanting to imply Harry was damaged in any way because of them.

"They didn't...I mean-" the child tried to pull his hands out of Severus', but he held them in place.

"Harry, you don't have talk about it now unless you wish to. You may always talk to me or anyone else you feel comfortable with about the time spent with your relatives when you're ready. You don't have to tackle everything at one time."

The child nodded, giving him a half smile. He squeezed his son's hands once in reassurance and loosened his grip. Harry surprised him with a weak squeeze of his own before the smaller pair of hands withdrew to his lap.

"Are you finished then?" Severus looked towards the text.

"Yeah," Harry blew on the wet ink of his notes until it dried, and then stowed them in his textbook.

"Very well. Would you rather talk here or on the sofa where no doubt a certain cat will come and beg for your attention?" he tried to look annoyed when Flurry jumped onto his lap to voice her opinion, but he admitted they had been ignoring her as of late.

"On the sofa. I miss Flurry sleeping with me," Harry pushed himself up to his feet.

"You mean on you," Severus corrected with a laugh as he nudged Flurry off his lap before standing and walking around the table to help his child to the sofa.

"She's warm," his child shrugged, smiling as Flurry jumped on his lap and began to purr.

"Are you not warm enough while you sleep? I can pull out another blanket to lay on your bed," he frowned and returned to the table to grab their drinks.

"No, it just felt nice."

"Good, but you know you can ask for something if you need it, correct?" Severus sat down on the edge of the coffee table setting their drinks next to him. He wanted to be face-to-face with his child when they discussed the latest hurdle they'd need to overcome.

"I did with the apple juice, didn't I?" Harry retorted with a smile.

"Brat," Severus rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to gently swat his child's arm, not wishing to accidentally hurt his son or leave a bruise on the delicate skin. He was glad Harry's spirit was up considering the incident with the youngest Mr. Weasley, and he hoped their following conversation wouldn't do anything to change that, but he knew better. "Speaking of your apple juice, if Professor McGonagall agrees to sit with you in the morning, I have a few errands to run and one of them is for groceries. Besides more apple juice is there anything you'd like?"

"Applesauce...ummm..."

"Are you turning into an apple maniac on me?" he shook his head, but happy to get anything Harry would eat. "Shall I also return with apple pie and apple donuts?"

"No, just applesauce. The other things sound good, but not yet," Harry paused. "Are there really apple donuts or are you trying to pull one on me?"

"There are, and they are very good though I'm not sure if you can buy them in the UK. I've found them in quite a few place in the States," Severus could taste the fresh, delicious donut, and decided that even if Harry wasn't up for one, he'd check a London donut shop for himself. "Do you want regular or cinnamon applesauce?"

"Cinnamon. It's not more, is it? I can always put cinnamon in myself if it is," his child backtracked, almost as if scolding himself for requesting what he wanted.

"Stop," Severus held up his hand. "What the groceries cost is no concern to you. You needn't worry about the cost of anything. If you need or want something and it's a reasonable request then I'll get it for you. Eventually, I will give you a weekly allowance for you to spend how you wish, but I am responsible for your wellbeing and that includes providing you with the necessities and things I think you need."

"But I have money. You don't have to," Harry pulled at his sleeves.

"I want to. Besides, I hope you save the money in your vault for after you finish Hogwarts," Severus took a sip of his coffee. "Are you going to be eating applesauce for every meal?"

"No, umm...I'm not sure what I want," Harry sighed. "Whatever will stay in my stomach would be good."

"Once this first round of chemo is done, I suspect your appetite will return. Do you like pasta, chicken, jelly, breakfast cereals?" Severus tried to remember the foods he enjoyed the most as a teen. "Pizza?"

"Pizza? Does Hogsmeade have a pizza place? I thought pizza was only a Muggle thing," the child furrowed his eyebrows.

"Have you forgotten that I'm a Potions Master, and so by extension a decent cook?" he grabbed a spare piece of parchment and started to make a list.

"Right. I'm not that picky normally," his son shrugged, "but I don't like turkey or anything with mayo. Anything else is okay really. Maybe some different kinds of juices, and some chocolate with caramel and lollipops, that is if that's okay."

"I'll add them to my list. Is there anything else you need while I'm out?"

"Not really," Harry shook his head.

"Not really means yes. What is it you want?" Severus looked up from his list to see a bit of anxiety in his son's green eyes. "If it's a reasonable request, I'll do my best to fulfill it."

"Well, I don't really know what I want, but besides reading I don't have much to do," Harry averted his gaze while he rubbed Flurry's paw.

Surely the child had a few things stashed in his chest to occupy his time. The child was a little old for children's toys, but he had to have some crayons, playing cards, something, even if he bought it himself on a Hogsmeade weekend or in Diagon Alley when he went to buy his school supplies. However, if Harry were as fickle about his money as he seemed, it wouldn't be strange for the child to not buy things that weren't absolutely necessary.

"I'll see what I can do," Severus jotted down toys and games onto his list with the hope that he came back with something the teen liked. He set the list and quill to the side as he took a deep breath. With the easy stuff over, it was time to move onto the harder, but necessary conversations. "As you know I spoke with Miss Adamson earlier about the resulting effects from the Dark Lord's attack."

Harry nodded, his hand stopping in the middle of petting Flurry. She butted her head up against his son's hand, but his child stayed frozen as if waiting for a death sentence.

"You have what's called peripheral neuropathy, which is a fancy way of saying nerve damage throughout the nerves extending from you spinal column," Severus took Harry's hand from its position in midair. "We're not sure if the neuropathy was chemotherapy induced or if the Dark Lord brought it on from his use of the Cruciatus, or more likely, a combination of both. The cause doesn't matter since it's treated the same way."

"It won't get worse, will it?" Harry bit his lip. "If it does, and the salve doesn't work, will I have to live with the pain?"

"No, child. If the salve doesn't work, there are other options like a nerve block or pain medication delivered intrathecally. You needn't worry that we can't do something to take away your pain," Severus massaged Harry's hand. "Is the pain returning?"

"I'm sore, but it's a dull ache like after playing quidditch too long."

"Good. I'll reapply the salve when you go to sleep, and at this rate we should be able to get by with three applications a day rather than the maximum of four until we taper off the usage as your nerves and pain levels stabilize. We can't guarantee the neuropathy won't worsen. It'll depend on the Dark Lord's plans, your success at Occlumency, and how your body reacts to the chemotherapy," he stopped massaging his son's right hand. "Hold your hand out."

Harry lifted his hand off Severus' palm and held it out. There was a small tremble to his hand that while noticeable wasn't obvious by a quick glance. "Is there some medication for it?"

"There is. You've been taking it as a pre-caution, but now the dosage will be upped. Unfortunately, it can't heal your nerves all the way-"

"What? I'm going to shake for the rest of my life?" Harry flung his arms up, and Flurry meowed before jumping off Harry's lap. 

"I didn't say that," he kept his voice calm and soothing as he held his hand out. "Do you see my hand or arm trembling?"

He watched Harry examine his arm from both sides and even set two fingers on his hand to feel for shaking. "No. Did Voldemort Crucio you, too?"

"Yes, and I've most likely been subjected to it more times than you have. There's a potion I developed that heals the nerves completely except for the optic nerve," he took Harry's left hand and began giving it the same treatment as his right.

"That's why you have reading glasses!" Harry relaxed his hand into Severus' hold.

"Correct. Unfortunately, you won't be able to take the potion until your treatment for leukemia is finished, but it's a better alternative to permanent nerve damage. In the meantime, I hope that if we strengthen your muscles using simple exercises that can be done sitting or lying down, particularly the ones in your limbs, the trembling won't be as noticeable and you'll maintain your grip, balance, and control," Severus explained.

"Is that all? I'll really have to live with it until then, even if it gets worse?" Harry gulped.

"Yes. Muggle and magical medicine isn't very advanced when it comes to nerve diseases and disorders, but remember you'll never have to live with the pain and if things become worse, we'll find alternative ways for you to do things like using a pen instead of a quill," he let go of Harry's hand. "In addition, we've changed your treatment schedule and added a few things that you should be aware of."

"No more chemo this week?" Harry asked, his green eyes filled with hope.

"A temporary stoppage. I'm surprised you haven't noticed the absence of a chemo bag on your infusion pump," Severus looked towards the infusion pump where a bag of saline and anti-emetics hung.

"Is that why I've been feeling better and not throwing up?" his child looked up at his infusion pump.

"Most likely. It seems the original anti-emetics work after the chemotherapy is stopped. We're going to give your body a chance to rest and recover through tomorrow and then Thursday we're going to start a different mix of chemotherapy drugs incase it was the drugs that caused the nerve damage," he explained. "The new chemotherapy infusions won't last all day, but a few hours in the morning. However, they're more intense. If we're lucky though, the new mixture will agree with your body more in terms of side effects."

"Does the new chemotherapy work as well?" Harry tugged at his sleeves. "It won't change my chances?"

"It works just as well," Severus shifted over to the sofa and ran a hand through his child's hair as Harry leaned into his side. "I wouldn't approve the change if it didn't. Miss Adamson will be stopping by soon to check on you and to bring a pint of blood and platelets to infuse. Also, we've decided it's time to address your lack of appetite so remember the TPN intravenous feeding she talked to you about?"

He felt Harry nod against his chest.

"She's going to bring the necessary things for that, and we'll hook it up to you so that the infusion will be done in the morning, and you can be free of your infusion pump or any IV fluids for the day. So until the TPN is stopped, we'll need to note everything you eat and drink each day as the TPN will be used to supplement your food intake, not give you an excuse to not eat at all," Severus gave his child a stern glance that went unnoticed since Harry didn't look up.

"Okay," Harry yawned.

"Additionally, you'll be receiving your next dose of intrathecal chemotherapy on Friday as scheduled," he warned his son.

"You still want to stick a needle in my back when that's where it hurts the most?" his child grabbed his shirt. "You can't!"

"Harry, we can't let the leukemia spread to your brain or spinal column. Miss Adamson will give you a shot that numbs the area first, and if it's still too painful, we can put you under conscious sedation like we did when your Hickman was inserted," Severus rubbed the back of his child's neck.

"And you'll stay?" Harry whispered.

"The entire time," he promised. Severus wasn't going to make that mistake again. He planned to stay right next to his child during the procedure, and anticipate his son's requests before the child had a chance to make them.

"Alright then. If it has to be done." Harry leaned further until him until Severus felt like his side was supporting his child's entire weight as a long yawn escaped the child's mouth.

"I believe that means bedtime," he nudged Harry to sit up.

"But what about calling me Mr. Prince?" the child sat up and yawned again.

"Tomorrow. I don't think you want to fall asleep before I finish the next chapter of Lord of the Rings as a reward for your Occlumency meditation session," Severus smiled seeing his son shake his head before he even finished the sentence. "I didn't think so. Go get ready. I'll be there in a few minutes." Severus watched Harry retreat to his room as he finished up his cup of coffee. They had survived Day Three of Induction Chemo, four more days to go before what seemed like the longest week in his life would be over.

He stood up and took Harry's glass of apple juice to the kitchen, exchanging it for a fresh glass of water and then gathered his son's nighttime medications. One short Occlumency lesson, a chapter, another application of salve, and a quick visit from Miss Adamson and Harry would be asleep before eleven, giving Severus a few hours to cross off a couple things on his to do list before he retired to sleep with the hope of a full night of uninterrupted sleep. 

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. 

Severus took the stack of jeans from Harry's lap and set them onto the coffee table in front of them. Why did he care? There was something about Harry, how he continued to survive against all odds, how he was still very much a child needing affection and approval despite everything else. His son was a fighter who refused to break yet Severus had seen these qualities maybe not to the extent of Harry's but the same ones nonetheless in other children. Even so, those children hadn't grown on him as much as Harry had. Was it the intangible parental bond that most believed in despite not knowing Harry was his child until two days ago? No. Severus' feelings changed towards Harry before the paternity potion turned red.

"Sir?" his son scooted back, his eyes averted to the floor. "It's okay. I understand."

"Harry," Severus ran his hand through his son's hair. "My silence doesn't mean you assumed wrong. I'm merely looking for the right words."

"Oh," the child blushed. "It doesn't need to be a speech."

"I'm well aware you don't enjoy my lectures," Severus raised an eyebrow at his son while the back of his mind worked to put his feelings into words. "I think you lost Gryffindor more points this year for not paying attention during lecture than I took from both of the Weasley twins combined."

"Potions was in the morning, and it's not like I was sleeping all that well," Harry bit his lip. "I really liked the very first lecture you gave, you know the brew fame, bottle glory, and put a stopper in death one."

"You remember that? I thought your attention was elsewhere," the Potions Master slid his hand down to Harry's neck, coaxing the tight muscles to relax. How many times had he assumed the worst of his child just because of his self-imposed hatred of James Potter, the man who gave him the best gift anyone could ever receive?

"I was taking notes," Harry bowed his head. "A little to the left."

Moving his hand to the left, Severus sighed. How could he possibly show Harry how much he cared for him? Furthermore, just what had those blasted Muggles done to create these insecurities and disbeliefs in his child? "Is the pain returning?"

"I feel achy and sore, but I'm not in pain."

"Good. If it gets worse before we reapply the salve, let me know," he added his left hand to help massage the stiffness out of his child's muscles. "You know I don't think of you as The-Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, whichever name people are referring to you as these days, correct?"

"Yeah," Harry's squeezed his thigh. "You always punished me like you would any other misbehaving child. I never liked it, but I can see that now."

"Am I hurting you?" Severus stilled.

"No and yes. It's the hurt yet it feels good feeling," Harry leaned into his hands. "Please?"

Severus continued his massage of Harry's upper back though he made sure his hands didn't rub as hard or as deep. "I'm not good at expressing my emotions. I never have been. Your mother somehow knew how to interpret my moods and feelings, so I didn't have the need to express myself. I'm unsure what to say in order to make you believe I care for you."

"It's okay," his child assured, but Severus knew better. It took him years to come to terms with his parents loving him after he was shipped off to his relatives at nine. How could he show Harry the warm feeling that wrapped around his heart after seeing his child smile and the helplessness and desperation he felt when Harry was whimpering in pain? Perhaps there was only one way to truly get through to his child.

"Go get your wand," Severus withdrew his hands.

"What?" Harry snapped his head up to meet his eyes.

"I'm going to show you how much I care rather than tell you," he waved towards the hall.

"Why do I need my wand?" the child stayed seated.

"Unless you're sure you can perform Legilimency without a wand, I suggest you retrieve it if you wish for an answer to your question," Severus whispered.

His mind was screaming for him to change his mind, to not let his child breach his ironclad mental barriers, but Harry needed to feel the positive emotions Severus held for his child. He wasn't sure if they qualified as far as the unconditional love a parent felt for his child, it had been too long since he'd allow himself to feel love of any kind, but he had hope that one day they'd both feel unconditional love towards each other.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Harry returned to the sofa with his wand.

"Good idea or not, it is necessary," Severus shoved his hands under his legs so his instincts couldn't take over and fire off a spell or hex at his son. "I'm going to push two memories I want you to see in front of my shields. View them and then retreat from my mind."

"If you're really, absolutely positive that you're sure," his child held his wand up with an unsteady hand.

"I'm sure," he nodded. "Give me a few moments to push those memories in front of my shield and then cast Legilimens."

"Okay," Harry gulped. 

Severus closed his eyes. He took a deep, calming breath to center himself before pushing two memories to the forefront of his mind where Harry would have no problem viewing them. He wanted his child to feel cared for...loved... and the small breach of privacy was nothing but a blip on the radar if it worked.

With one final calming breath, Severus opened his eyes and connected with the emerald green ones of his son, ready to allow someone into his mind and soul for the first time since he was Harry's age.

*~AIE~*

Harry raised his wand, his left hand wrapped around his right wrist to steady his hand. "Legilimens," he whispered, the spell sucking him into Severus' mind. There were two glowing orbs floating in front of a wall composed of a completely translucent diamond that was as tall and high as Harry could see. Intrigued, Harry walked past the floating orbs that resembled the glass orb that held the Prophecy too much for his liking to the diamond wall. He brushed his hand against the smooth surface of the wall, squinting to see the large lock centered on a large iron wall. He couldn't see a space for a key, but there were eight large dials containing both letters and numbers.

Of course, Severus wouldn't make breaking into his mind easy. The man was too paranoid and prepared for that. Harry wondered what lay beyond the lock. Were there more walls or maybe a logic game like Severus used to help protect the Philosopher's Stone?

Harry knocked on the diamond wall. If he was really quick, it might be possible to get past the diamond wall and closer to the locked wall before Severus noticed. He'd never figure out the lock, even if he had a few hours, but if he could breach the diamond wall it might give him a better idea of how to shield his own mind.

"Hey!" Harry yelled as a gold wisp wrapped around his torso and swept him off his feet. He reached towards the wall, but there was nothing for him to grab onto to. The wisp carried him away from the wall much like a cat carrying her kitten until he hung suspended before the glowing orbs. Without warning, the wisp disappeared and Harry fell to the ground in a heap. Grumbling, Harry untangled himself and stood up. "This was your idea!"

In response, the right orb nudged his chest. Harry rolled his eyes, but grabbed the orb before Severus sent something nastier his way. A bright light flashed the second his hands enveloped the orb. Harry felt sucked into the orb, his body that wasn't really his real body compressed and stretched until he didn't feel like himself at all. He could think, but he couldn't move, or at least he couldn't move the body that surrounded him. 

As the bright light cleared, Harry's vision came into focus and the first thing he saw was himself sleeping in his room in Severus' quarters. Was that how he really looked? He looked thinner than he thought he did and his skin was too white, almost translucent despite the dimmed lighting. His left arm was extended out from under him as he slept and even then his fingers trembled, proving to Harry the memory was from the night before or that morning.

Harry went along with Severus as the man walked towards the bed, not that he had a choice. The feeling was so strange. He could feel his professors' emotions, but he was still Harry. He watched...no lifted, he could feel Severus' body moving, the blankets and sheets down past his feet before waving his hand to make the tank top covering his memory self's body disappear. Harry gasped. Seeing himself covered was bad enough, but now he could counts his ribs and his breathing looked exaggerated with barely any fat to cover his torso.

"Cold," memory Harry stirred, his hands reaching out for the blankets only to close around air.

"Shh," Severus rolled him onto his stomach after casting a warming charm around the room. "I need to reapply the salve before you can have your blankets back."

Harry heard himself whine; all the while he never opened his eyes. He didn't remember this memory at all, despite it happening that morning. He had figured Severus had come in and applied the salve before he left to run his errands, but Harry thought he slept right through it.

"Please, no," memory Harry whimpered as Harry felt Severus' hands move down to rest on his lower back.

"Harry, you know it's necessary," Severus sighed. "I'll be as gentle as I can." Compassion laced with a fierce protectiveness wrapped around him, but this wasn't the compassion Mrs. Weasley or even Sirius had shown him. This compassion was deeper, more like l...lo...the four letter word that until now Harry hadn't believed any adult besides his dead parents felt for him.

He feel into a daze as he watched and felt Severus apply the tiniest amount of pressure possible to his lower back to ensure the salve was effective. He wanted to curl up and stay locked in that foreign warmth forever. It was safe and wonderful, but like all good things in his life, the memory ended as Severus tucked the blankets back around his sleeping body.

Finding himself returned to the diamond wall, Harry pulled out of Severus' mind without viewing the second memory. He didn't need to see it.

*~AIE~*

Severus cradled his child's upper body as he waited for Harry to recover from the Legilimency spell. It was always disorientating to invade someone's mind and return, but especially so the first time. He hoped his son had seen everything he needed to and that Harry would never need to ask why Severus cared again, but like any abused child Harry would need the reassurance time and time again before he truly believed that Severus cared for him and wasn't going anywhere.

"Harry," Severus whispered, "Do you want to lie down for a bit and rest?"

His son nodded against his chest and wrapped his thin arms around his neck. Severus hadn't meant to imply he'd carry his nearly sixteen-year-old son to bed yet again and he wouldn't if his son weren't so ill, but if Harry felt too disoriented or drained it was better than having his child fall and injuring himself. Besides at thirty-six, Severus was young enough to handle his child's weight.

Standing and lifting his child into his arms, the Potions Master walked across the room dodging the numerous bags along the way, down the hall, and into Harry's bedroom, his steps even and sure to create a smooth ride for his child. "I trust this won't become a habit?" he set Harry down on the bed.

"I'm not two," Harry rolled his eyes, pulling off his shirt as Severus grabbed the salve from the nightstand. "Anyway, I bet if Madam Pomfrey knew of my nerve damage she wouldn't let me up for a few days at least."

"Brat," Severus tapped Harry on his shoulder with his left hand, his right hand holding a glob of salve. "Lie down." He waited for Harry to slide down and get comfortable before starting to rub the minty salve into his child's body again, before the pain had a chance to return. It was obvious Harry was using his nerve damage as an excuse for Severus to coddle him, but if any child deserved a bit of coddling, it was Harry.

His child was asleep within minutes of Harry rolling onto his back. Severus finished applying the salve and scourgified his hands, but remained at his son's side watching as Harry's chest rose and fell.

A few minutes passed before Harry cracked one eye open and curled up onto his side, a lock of hair falling into his face. Severus brushed the piece back and ran his hand through the dark locks as his son let out a content sigh. His child's hair was longer than he normally wore it, another thing Harry neglected after Black's death. He could use a haircut, but it would be pointless. Too soon the soft, unmanageable locks would start to fall out, and he wouldn't be able to soothe Harry by running his hand through his hair. Once his son's hair started to fall out, he'd suggest shaving it off, but until then Severus wouldn't bring it up. He'd miss the mop that was his child's hair, despite it being a clone of James Potter's. That didn't matter any more.

Severus brushed the hair back from his son's forehead to reveal the lightening bolt scar. It was pink, not an angry red, but definitely not faded and inactive. The Dark Lord was most likely sending Harry reminders through the scar on a consistent basis, but between all the side effects from his treatments and doses of pain medication Harry didn't even realize it. Whether he liked it or not, Severus couldn't forget there was a war going on outside his quarters, one that most of the wizarding world believed was his son's war to fight.

"It's not your job," Severus murmured, reopening the jar of salve. He dipped a finger into the jar before tracing the famous scar, applying just enough pressure to rub the salve in. "It never was, and I refuse to let it be yours. You're naught but a child, a child that should be protected just as every other child has the right to be."

Harry pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

"How do you they expect you to defeat the Dark Lord when you can't even take care of yourself?" Severus stood up and retrieved another comforter from Harry's wardrobe. He spread it out over his son, tucking it around the small frame that looked frailer every day but continued to take punch after punch. "Albus is mad if he thinks you'll be ready to face the Dark Lord soon. You're not a murderer, and no one should expect you to become one."

Severus ran his hand through Harry's hair one more time. A few hairs clung to his fingers, but not any more than normal. He balled up the stray hairs and tossed the tiny ball into the air before sending a weak Incendio at the ball. It caught fire and sizzled, the ashes of Harry's hair floating down to the floor. With a wave of his hand the ashes were banished to the fireplace where they'd be scattered and mixed in with all the other ashes.

"Not on my watch," the Potions Master leaned down and kissed his son's temple. "The Dark Lord will have to kill me before he gets to you."

Setting a charm to alert him when Harry woke, Severus tiptoed out of his child's room, leaving the door cracked just in case. He walked down the hall to his own room, a place he once spent his nights reading before falling asleep, but now it had been reduced to a place to crash when Harry didn't need him throughout the night and catch a few precious hours of sleep.

"Meow," Flurry stretched out from her nest in the middle of the unmade bed. The white fur ball sat up, her eyes blinking as her pupils adjusted to the sudden change in light.

Severus sat down on the side of his bed and pulled off his boots. He'd meant to start brewing the memory restorative draught but that could wait a day or two. Flurry could use a bit of attention and he could get a bit of work done while giving himself the luxury of sitting in bed or maybe even take a short nap. Tomorrow and Friday would no doubt be trying days with more chemo and the intrathecal chemo injection on top of that, and he'd need all the energy he could get.

Summoning the mail, the Potions Master leaned back against the pillows and slid on his glasses before a pile of envelopes flew into the room. He snatched them out of the air and set them down on his lap as Flurry curled up on his side. He opened the first letter, his right hand moving to pet the tiny monster while he scanned the letter asking if he'd be willing to give a presentation on teaching NEWT Potions. Even if he did have time, he wasn't interested in attending a teaching conference. He wrote a quick reply and moved onto the next item in his pile.

Most of the mail was from disgruntled parents who couldn't believe their child hadn't passed Potions. He set those letters aside to respond to when he needed an outlet for his frustrations. Severus always got letters from parents at the end of term, but it seemed the letters rarely amounted to parents asking for tutoring recommendations or progress reports throughout term. The children continued to receive abysmal grades until they could drop Potions after sitting and failing the OWL.

At the bottom of the pile were two envelopes with familiar handwriting, one from the youngest Weasley boy and the other from Poppy. Severus opened Weasley's letter first, finding a smaller envelope with Harry's name on the front of it tucked behind his letter. The handwriting was neat, without a drop of ink out of place. It was no doubt part of Weasley's punishment for upsetting Harry. He adjusted his glasses before reading the Molly-approved letter.

Professor Snape,

I'm sorry I upset Harry. I really didn't mean to, and I hope that if Harry accepts my apology that you'll let me visit again. It was horrible of me as your guest to make Harry feel uncomfortable. I'm also sorry for saying bad things about you in your home. I shouldn't have implied you're poisoning Harry with the Muggle potions. If he's okay with staying with you, I should be okay with it, too.

Please give my letter to Harry. I understand it may take him a few days to reply, but I really am sorry and don't want this to change our friendship. I told him in the letter, but will you tell him congratulations for passing Potions for me again? I know how hard it was for him at the end of the year and how hard it is to pass your class or how easy it is to fail.

Thank you,

Ronald Weasley

Severus nodded his approval. The letter wasn't the best-written apology he'd ever received, but Weasley seemed sincere and by the verbiage, it was written by Weasley, not his mother. Further down the page, Molly had written him a small note.

Severus,

My son's actions were completely out of line and disrespectful. He's being punished, and if two week's worth of cleaning the worst rooms in the place we're staying at along with laundry duty isn't enough, I don't know what is. By then, I hope Harry has forgiven Ron and is ready for visitors again. I will accompany Ron when that time comes to ensure it doesn't happen again.

Albus told us of the teaching moves that are being made for next year. As much as I wish for a miracle, I know Ron won't be taking your NEWT Potions class, but Arthur and I hope he receives a passing grade on his OWL and can continue his studies with the subject. Do you have any suggestions of what he should study and which potions to practice brewing to be ready for next year?

Molly

Severus pulled out a new sheet of parchment and wrote a separate reply to each Weasley. He was used to receiving letters from Molly concerning her children considering the twins one year tried to break the record for most letters sent home in a year. He listed the Potions and theories Weasley needed to master before attempting NEWT level Potions. Weasley only missed passing Potions by a few points, and it was likely he'd pass his OWL, since the OWLs weren't graded as harshly as he graded.

With that reply done and ready to be sent, Severus turned his attention to the letter from Poppy. Why she sent him a letter instead of flooing down to talk to him was a mystery. Was her letter an apology, too? He opened the envelope to find another envelope tucked inside with Poppy's loopy handwriting in the bottom right corner and his name written in unfamiliar handwriting in the middle.

Severus,

These are the results for that test you ordered.

Closing his eyes, Severus set down the envelope. Inside were the test results indicating if he was a match incase Harry needed a bone marrow transplant. Now that the results were in his hand, Severus wasn't sure if he wanted to know. If he were a match, he'd be relieved and happy knowing that if Harry needed a bone marrow transplant they wouldn't needed to search for a donor.

But if they didn't match, Harry's chances of finding a matching wizard or witch were slim to none. They could test his parents and his sister, but the best bet for a magical child for a perfect match, magically and genetically, was for a matching parent unlike a Muggle child where the most likely match came from a sibling. And without a match they'd have to resort to finding a match with a Muggle and that risked turning Harry into a squib.

Severus picked up the envelope before letting it drop back into his lap. He could live with his child as a squib, even though it would be unfair to Harry. At least his son would be alive, but what would happen if they couldn't find a match at all? No, he would find a match for his child if he needed to Imperio everyone he crossed paths with to get tested. Someone had to be a match for his child. He just hoped it was him.

With a nudge of encouragement from Flurry, Severus tore open the envelope, his eyes darting across the results until they landed on the words inside a box at the bottom of the page.

Blood Match: 6 out of 6, 10 out of 10 Perfect Match

Magical Match: 60% Match, Patient would need to take magical suppressors prior to transplant

They matched. 

Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in his bedroom. He slept well, so well that mentally he felt rested, but his body felt stiff from sleeping in one position too long. He could either try to fall asleep again and worry about the repercussions later or force his body to move and deal with the pain his brain became more and more aware of as his mind shifted fully to consciousness. Or he could try to call out for Severus and hope it was time for his next dosage of morphine.

The man cared a lot for him, perhaps even loved him if that warm feeling Harry witnessed in Severus' memory was indeed love, but after so long of only being able to rely on himself Harry didn't know if he could put all of his trust behind Severus to care for him. He'd been raised to be self-reliant, had to be in order to survive and it somehow felt wrong to allow someone else to take care of everything for him. Harry wasn't sure he could let that piece of control go, but he had to try since he couldn't imagine getting up without at least the promise of a painkiller to dull the deep pain that settled into his head and bones.

"Severus?" Harry called out, his voice groggy from sleep. He relinquished his hold on his duvet and forced his arm to reach over and grab the glass of water sitting on his nightstand. He took a sip before setting it down, not wishing for his shaky hand to spill the chilled liquid on him. "Professor?" he tried again, his voice louder and clearer.

Harry counted while he waited for the Professor to enter his room. He didn't want to seem like a demanding toddler but he couldn't wait all day or night. Harry had no idea what time it was or how long he slept. It could be the following morning and Severus was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for all he knew. When he reached two hundred, Harry decided it was long enough to try again. "Severus?"

Again Harry waited but the Potions Master never came. Maybe it was the middle of the night and Severus was sleeping? Whatever the reason for his professor's absence, Harry needed to find him before the pain kicked in fully. While the salve kept the nerve pain at bay, Harry was finding it didn't do much to stop the deep bone pain that Miss Adamson told him was a result of the leukemia cells crowding his bone marrow.

"Severus?" Harry tried once more as he rolled onto his back and straightened out his legs to hear and feel a loud crack in each knee. He forced his body to sit up and then stand. A wave of nausea and dizziness hit him, but Harry breathed through it before he stumbled out to the sitting room, his hand sliding along against the wall incase he lost his balance.

The sitting room was lit up, but his professor wasn't anywhere to be found. Had Severus stepped out for a moment or was he sleeping? Maybe he ran upstairs to fetch a book from his library? Harry couldn't check the library. He'd never make it up the steep circular stairs, and he wasn't suicidal enough to see what Severus would do if he left the Professor's quarters so with two options eliminated, that only left seeing if the man was asleep in his bedroom.

Harry gulped. Even though Severus was apparently his father, would Snape, Hogwart's resident dungeon bat that was known to make First Years cry, appreciate Harry knocking on his bedroom door? Would he even be able to knock on the door without some ward zapping him or flinging him down the hall?

As his headache grew stronger, Harry forced himself down the hallway before the bravery brought on by the pounding in his head could wear off. He paused past his bedroom door, leaning against the wall to take a break and regain his balance. The schedule of his treatments was stuck up to his left, but Harry refused to look. He didn't want to think about the chemotherapy he'd receive tomorrow never mind the intrathecal injection the following day or anything past that. Besides, everything was blurry as a side effect from his headache anyway.

Harry pushed off the wall and continued until he reached Severus' open bedroom door. He didn't know what he expected to see, but the modest sized bedroom with a large cherry sleigh bed and white linens trimmed with gold was not it, but Severus and Flurry lying asleep on the bed confirmed it was the right room.  Like his room, Severus' walls were plastered over and painted a pale blue. On the right wall there was a door that Harry assumed led to a bathroom and taking up the small corner was a fountain that started halfway up the wall, the water trickling down and over rocks until it fell into a small pool that was flush with the stone floor. It was all very peaceful and so unlike the Professor who taught him Potions the last five years.

With the Gryffindor courage that led him to attempt all of his end-of-term adventures, Harry jabbed the empty air with his left fist, his hand and arm passing through the threshold of Severus' bedroom as he flinched, waiting for invisible wards to at the very least zap him except nothing happened. Either Severus didn't have wards guarding his bedroom door, which Harry doubted, or the Professor had taken the time in the past week and a half to key him into them.

"Severus?" Harry withdrew his hand and knocked on the doorframe. Still the Professor slept on. He hopped or rather tried to hop over the threshold, his trailing leg remained within three inches of the floor so it was more like an awkward step rather than a hop. Tripped up, Harry stumbled across the floor until he reached the footboard, his hands grasping onto the hard wood before his body could tumble to the ground. Harry kept his hands on the bed for balance, but scooted around to the side closest to Severus.

He was about to shake the man's shoulder when he spotted an official looking parchment lying beside him with what looked like his name on the top.

Even though he knew he shouldn't, Harry picked up the document, squinting to make out the words. Under his name a long list of weird words were listed on the left side in a column with a price in galleons on the right. He scanned the list and upon finding morphine figured out they were the drugs and chemotherapy he was on, but why was there a bill? Sure, the Professor paid for his prescriptions when they went to the pharmacy since the NHS didn't cover the complete costs of prescriptions, but why would St. Mungo's charge three thousand galleons for a week of chemotherapy! At that rate, he'd run out of money before his treatments were complete. Then what would he do? Would he have to sell autographs or interviews as The-Boy-Who-Lived just to have enough money for more chemotherapy?

"Harry," Severus pried the parchment out of his hand, "sit down."

"Severus?" Harry blinked.

"Yes, now sit down," the Potions Master gripped his shoulder, guiding him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't have enough money," Harry blurted out, his hand flying up to cover his mouth.

"Whom is this addressed to?" Severus pointed to the top of the parchment.

"Severus Prince," Harry read. "But why-"

"In a minute," the Professor cut him off. "You are not responsible for this bill, nor do I want you worrying about the cost of your treatments."

"But sir, that's a lot of money and it's for me. I can pay it, and I'll figure out a way to pay the ones when I run out of money," Harry looked down at the floor. "You shouldn't have to use all of your money on me."

"Harry," Severus sighed as he moved to sit next to him. "I know this is hard for you to accept, but I don't want you worrying about what your chemotherapy costs. It's not your job to pay for your medical expenses."

"Are you just doing it because you're my... you know?"

"Look at me," the Professor cupped Harry's chin and forced him to look up. "This arrangement was made before I found out you were my son. Even so, now that I know you're my child, I am responsible for and will pay any expense that arises until you finish school and likely longer than that. This is not just a duty required of me, child. I want to pay for what you need and for you not to worry about the costs." Severus let go of his chin and ran a hand through his hair. "You don't need to carry the world on your shoulders."

"I..." Harry didn't know what to say. So many times the Headmaster, other professors, or his friends added to the heavy burden he carried around all day, but never did they relieve him of any of it. They just expected him to take on more and somehow keep his sanity. "Thank you," he offered at last, leaning into Severus' side.

"There's nothing to thank me for, but you're welcome anyway," the Potions Master wrapped his arm around Harry. "Did you have a reason for seeking me out?"

"Is it time for my morphine?" Harry closed his eyes, hiding from the light that made the pounding in his head worse.

"What hurts?" Severus lowered his voice.

"Bone pain, but mostly a headache."

"From the Dark Lord?"

"I don't think so," Harry shook his head.

"Lie down," Severus let go of him and helped him get comfortable under the covers. "I'll go get you your meds, and then if you're up to it I'll tell you why the Prince name keeps coming up."

"Okay," Harry smiled as Severus dimmed the lights so it didn't hurt his head as much. "Severus? Why doesn't the system cover my chemotherapy anyway?" he caught the Professor before he exited through the doorway.

Severus turned around with a sigh. "The simple answer, which is all that you're getting, is that the system doesn't cover all Muggle medicines or procedures."

"Oh," he reached out to pet Flurry. "That's stupid."

"Indeed it is."

*~AIE~*

Severus gave Harry his evening meds before placing a cold washcloth across Harry's forehead. "Does that help?" he climbed onto the bed and leaned against the headboard. He hadn't meant to fall asleep especially for as long as he had, but apparently he was more tired than he thought.

"Yeah," his son yawned.

"Tired again already?" Severus pulled out his wand and cast a general monitoring spell over his child.

"Tired, but not sleepy," Harry cracked open an eye. "The hallway is too long."

"And I suppose you wish for me to do some foolish wand waving to shrink the length of the hallway?" he smirked as he read the results of the general monitoring spell. Harry's temperature and stats were normal; a good indicator that his child's increased lethargy wasn't a result of an infection or illness.

"That would be nice."

Rolling his eyes, Severus Accioed the wooden box he brought back from WCS. "Are you going to fall asleep on me if I start telling you about the Prince surname?"

"No," Harry's eyes shot open. "Tell me."

"Have you heard anyone mention the Prince name?" Severus wanted to see what his child had heard if anything throughout the years. Despite attending Hogwarts for five years, Harry was woefully naïve about many things in the wizarding world especially when it came to pureblood society and customs.

"No. Should I have?" Harry rolled onto his side his arm propped up to rest his head on his hand.

"It's not likely these days. Like Potters, there aren't many Princes left," Severus began. "My father, Theodosius Prince-"

"Prince?"

"Let me get there," Severus paused. "Where are your glasses?"

"Huh?" Harry blinked. "I never put them on when I woke up."

"Yet you strained your eyes to read the bill from St. Mungo's without them?" Severus raised an eyebrow even though he doubted Harry could fully see its effects. "And you wonder why you have a headache?"

"I woke up with my headache," his child defended. "I kinda forgot to put them on?"

"Did you really forget or did you just not bother with them?" Severus set aside the box. Was this the first signs of chemo brain? How could Harry forget his glasses when his vision was so poor? Didn't he realize upon waking that everything was out of focus?

"I'm not sure," Harry furrowed his brow. "I woke up in pain and then when you didn't come when I called for you, I got up to come ask about some morphine. I wasn't really thinking about anything else. When I have a bad headache my vision sucks either way so I do sometimes forget my glasses." 

"Please remember to put them on if you're going to be leaving your bedroom. I don't want you stumbling around and falling because you can't see," Severus sighed.

"I'll try."

"Alright. As I was saying, my father was a Ravenclaw. Even though my mother was a Hufflepuff, they started dating Fourth Year and promptly married two days after they finished school much to their parents' dismay. Both of my parents are from old pureblood families, but they didn't exactly act as high society purebloods should," Severus rolled his eyes.

"Like Malfoy does?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, except following stricter etiquette rules as was custom in the late 1950s. Remember that wizards tend to trail behind Muggles in societal changes. Instead of conforming to my grandfather's standards and growing up, my parents ran off to the States where I was born," he ran his finger along the wooden box sitting beside him. Severus hated talking about his childhood and past, but Harry needed to understand. "As you can imagine the gossip and rumors that started circulating about my parents when they were in Hogwarts only grew worse as word came that they were involved in what became known as the hippie movement."

"You grew up as a hippie?" his child's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yes and no," Severus explained. "While I lived with my parents up until I was nine, I wasn't a typical hippie child. My innate personality doesn't lend to being free-spirited, and it never has."

"What happened when you were nine?"

"My grandfather got tired of the gossip surrounding the Prince name and so came to the States and took me to my Aunt Eileen's who had married a Muggle, Tobias Snape, where I took on the Snape surname so that when I started Hogwarts I wouldn't be ridiculed for my parents' follies. Of course, they never told me that was the reason and I assumed my parents were tired of toting me along and finding people to watch me while they went wherever the wind steered them that day. Needless to say by the time I entered Hogwarts I was quite a bitter child," Severus frowned, remembering the rejection he felt when his mother wrote to him to tell him he had a new baby sister. "I now believe my grandfather also did it as a way to protect me from the coming war since by then there were the first stirrings of news of a new dark lord."

"I'm sorry," Harry placed his hand atop his. "At least you know your parents."

Severus ignored the slip Harry made by not including him as his father, whether intentional or not. "If not for that arrangement your mother and I would've never become friends."

"So it was a good thing?"

"In some ways, yes. The plan backfired when I was sorted into Slytherin rather than Ravenclaw," he sighed. He missed Lily and wanted his forgotten memories back. Now that he knew they were missing, he felt incomplete without them. What if they contained something important, something that would help defeat the Dark Lord even? But mostly, Severus wanted the memories back to remember his time with his son. Harry deserved to have Severus tell him those memories, too.

"Why didn't you ever retake the Prince name?" Harry curled up on his side with a yawn.

"My grandfather arranged it so that Snape was an alias and after I left Hogwarts... it was easier having a name without connections in the wizarding world," Severus looked down at his left forearm. At one point Harry would ask how he became a Death Eater and he'd have to answer, but not today. It was hard enough talking about his childhood. "Legally my name is still Severus Prince though only the Headmaster knows. When Severus Prince didn't show up at Hogwarts in 1972, everyone thought the Prince heir had disappeared somewhere. My parents never bothered to announce my birth until my grandfather insisted, which made everyone think I'd enter Hogwarts a year later than I did, and no one took notice of the small supposedly half-blood child named Severus that was already attending Hogwarts."

"Aren't purebloods obsessed with their family histories? Wouldn't someone remember your aunt marrying a Muggle named Snape?" Harry removed the washcloth from his face and placed it on the nightstand.

"No, they'd just remember that my Aunt Eileen married a Muggle, the name of the Muggle didn't matter unless it was someone in the Royal Family," Severus laid the back of his hand on his child's forehead. "Has the morphine kicked in?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Though if it gets any more confusing my headache is threatening to come back."

"Brat," he lightly tugged on a lock of Harry's hair.

"Hey!" his son batted his hand away before freezing as if a light bulb turned on inside his head. "That day when you went to the Ministry and wore a blue shirt, you were being Severus Prince!"

"Yes. No one would imagine Professor Snape in anything other than black and white and I wore my glasses and removed my glamours," Severus nodded.

"Glamours? Please don't tell me you look totally different, too?"

"A little, but not too much," Severus waved his hand over his face, letting down the glamours he continuously kept up.

"You look the same," Harry squinted.

"Are you sure you're almost sixteen?" he rolled his eyes and summoned Harry's glasses. He grabbed them out of the air and handed them to his son. "Look again."

"Whoa, you look so much younger," his son blinked as his eyes focused. "Why do you make yourself look older?"

"It helps terrify the First Years and when I first came to teach helped to make me look old enough to be a professor. I've used glamours since I discovered I had enough magical reserves to constantly hold them up summer before Sixth Year," Severus replaced the glamours, uncomfortable with Harry staring at him. Those weren't the only reasons he began using glamours, but the only ones Harry was getting for now.

"Why don't you come out as the Prince heir now that you aren't spying anymore? Wouldn't it be easier?"

"No doubt the Prophet already ran a story saying I was spotted at the Ministry, but I'm hesitant to give up a name that currently has no association with the Dark Lord. There's no telling what the war might bring," Severus avoided looking at Harry's scar. The Prince name could give them some anonymity if they needed to hide or flee the country to keep Harry safe. He added getting Harry a proper Muggle ID and passport with his birth name on it to his mental list.

"Right," Harry rubbed his scar. "Doesn't holding up the glamours drain your magical reserves?"

"I have enough power that I don't even notice it," Severus shrugged and opened the wooden box in an attempt to steer Harry's questioning away from him. "Would you like to see your birth certificate?"

"You have it?" his son sat up.

He nodded.

"I've never seen mine before," Harry watched him unfold the official document. "Aunt Petunia claimed to never have mine."

"Here," Severus handed the official Ministry document over to his child.

"My name's Hadrian?" the child looked up at him in confusion. "Why was my name changed?"

"I don't know for sure, but Lily probably did it to help hide your identity," Severus watched Harry run his fingers over the embossed ink, studying the document as if it were the Rosetta Stone.

"This is...strange," Harry stared at his birth certificate. "It doesn't feel like it's mine... Is that my mum's signature?"

"Yes." He'd always be able to recognize Lily's flowing script even after teaching thousands of children and grading their work.

The shaking of his son's hands grew worse as Harry focused on Lily's signature. "She touched this," Harry breathed, his voice a weird mixture of awe and sadness.

"Are you alright?" Severus laid his hand on his child's shoulder.

"No," Harry whispered, "I'm not alright."

Harry only had eyes for the parchment clenched between his two hands. His mother had touched it, signed that very parchment, proof that a person had actually existed past the legend that had become Lily Potter. Her signature was pretty, neat and flowing but not bubbly like so many of his female classmates. The i was dotted not after finishing writing Lily, but the ink had made a trail up to dot the i immediately after writing the vowel before the quill was picked up to continue writing. After almost sixteen years, it was the only thing he had ever seen or touched that belonged to his mother.

Despite growing up with Aunt Petunia, she never gave him anything of his mum's, not even bothered to let him see a photograph of his mother or grandparents. Harry had snooped around the attic when he was tasked with cleaning it, but there wasn't anything to be found. He'd once asked if Aunt Petunia had anything of his mother's and with an upturned nose she stated that she had burned everything left of the useless waste of a soul that claimed to be her sister. Harry had been six and never asked again, even when it meant failing a family tree project for school.

A tear slid out of his eye, crawling down his cheek, and Harry extended his arms farther out to ensure the salty drop of wetness didn't land on his birth certificate. He'd never forgive himself if a tear smeared the only sample of handwriting that he had from her. He never wanted to let the parchment go. Somehow just holding it made him feel closer to her.

"Harry," a voice broke through his trance and for a mere second he felt the hand on his shoulder.

He didn't so much as blink before ignoring the voice, allowing his mind to shut down and seek solitude in the faint comfort he imagined his mother, the lady with the pretty handwriting, would show him.

*~AIE~* 

Severus squeezed his child's shoulder a little harder to try to get through to him. "Harry," he tried again, searching for any indication his son heard him, but none came, not even a blink of those dulled emerald eyes.

With care, Severus pried the birth certificate from Harry's hands one finger at a time before returning it to the box and sending the carved box back to its place in the hidden dresser drawer.

"Harry," the Potions Master waved his hand in the space once occupied by the birth certificate. He never predicted the child would shut down after seeing his birth certificate, or he would've waited until Harry's mental state had improved. Had he given his child too much to process in his weakened state?

Unable to watch his child sit frozen there any longer, Severus lifted his son and cradled Harry against his chest, his arms wrapped around the frail child that was his to protect. Harry struggled to break free of Severus' arms, but Severus held on tight to his child.

"Harry, it's Severus," he kept his tone soft despite fighting off the flailing arms of his son. "Relax, child. You're safe."

Severus wasn't sure if it was his use of child or safe that calmed Harry down, but one of those words had gotten through to Harry. The child's limbs became limp and he burrowed his head deeper into Severus' shoulder.

"That's it, child."

The Potions Master frowned, hating the unresponsive state Harry had suddenly reverted to. Harry was allowing himself to hide somewhere in his mind, and the state could be indicative of an oncoming break with reality if not stopped. The last thing they both needed was a full on breakdown of Harry's mental state on top of his leukemia.

Where was the stubborn Gryffindor that refused to yield to any challenges that were presented to him? The one that took on a dragon as a fourth year or trapezed across the UK on a thestral in hope of defending Black against the Dark Lord? Had Harry finally reached his limit? Had he used up everything he had fighting for others so there was nothing left to fight for himself?

Harry's eyes were open, but that didn't mean the child was seeing anything through them. Severus was sure if he waved his hand in front of Harry again, his son wouldn't blink never mind actually respond with words.

"Enough for today," Severus glanced at the clock sitting on his nightstand.

It was a little past seven. Normally he wouldn't want Harry going to bed so early since it meant he'd likely wake before dawn, but Severus had a feeling he'd be waking Harry up in the morning despite the early bedtime. And perhaps sleep was just what his child needed in order to "reset" his mind.

Severus scooted to the edge of his bed and stood up with Harry in his arms. He walked down the wall to Harry's room, using wandless magic to turn down the covers before lying his son down and covering him with the sheet.

"I'll be right back," Severus wiped a tear from Harry's cheek. He needed to retrieve the supplies for his child's TPN feeding, saline and heparin to flush Harry's Hickman, and a syringe filled with the equivalent of Harry's sleeping pill since he doubted he could get the child to swallow a pill with the state he was in.

However, Harry grabbed his wrist and pulled as he turned away.

"Roll on your stomach then," Severus pried his child's hand off his wrist before rolling Harry onto his stomach. He'd apply the salve first then. With luck Harry would fall asleep like he usually did while he applied the salve, and he could sneak away to get everything he needed afterwards.

After pulling down the sheet, removing Harry's shirt, and scourgifying his hands, Severus dipped his fingers into the jar and started at his son's neck. He worked his way down, careful not to press down too hard when he came to Harry's lower back. With his left hand, Severus rolled down Harry's pajamas and boxers like he did with every application of salve, but upon rolling them over the second time Harry twisted away from him and curled up into a ball.

"No," his child whispered, his arms wrapped around his knees. "No."

"Harry," Severus' voice nearly cracked. "It's Severus. I need to finish applying the salve so you don't wake up in pain."

"No," Harry curled in on himself tighter.

What was happening? It couldn't be what Severus thought, could it? How could they miss that with all the diagnostic and medical history spells cast on the child in the last two weeks. Severus drew his wand and took a deep breath before casting a specific diagnostic spell aimed at his son's rear.

It took a few moments in which Severus held his breath, but the spell produced white sparks and Severus breathed a sigh of relief. But if Harry hadn't been abused like that, why was his child reacting this way? Was he so out of it he was merely acting on his basic instincts, was this some nightmarish concoction Harry had witnessed in a nightmare sent by the Dark Lord, or had his relatives threatened him with it but never followed through? Whatever the reason, Severus hated that his child on top of everything else had these worries trapped somewhere in his subconscious.

"Child, can you uncurl for me?" he coaxed Harry out of his ball. Calling him child seemed to do wonders perhaps because no one else had treated his son like a child should be treated. "I'm going to finish applying this salve to your arms, legs, and chest and then I'll give you something to help you sleep, okay?"

Severus hated talking to his teenaged son like he were three, but if it allowed him to finish applying the salve so he could get Harry to sleep sooner than he would do what needed to be done. The child's mind needed a break, and it was doing more harm than good for Harry to continue to stay in his current state. He'd do what he could to ensure his son's dreams were pleasant, but that would all be for nothing if Harry woke up in pain.

Severus worked as quickly as he could to finish rubbing the salve into his son's skin, avoiding Harry's back. Unfortunately, Harry hadn't fallen asleep, his body too alert to allow him despite his mind being far away though his eyes were glazed over and his eyelids kept falling shut only to be snapped back open upon touching.

"I need to go get that sleeping medication that I told you about now," he tucked the sheet around Harry. "Will you be alright for a few minutes?"

He almost missed it, but Harry gave him the slightest nod.

*~AIE~*

An hour later Harry's eyelids closed and Severus sighed in relief. Harry was asleep for the night and with a little help from a very mild Legilimens that Severus used to create a calming beach scene in his son's mind, his son's sleep would be filled with good dreams. Although there were too many things on his mental to do list to count, Severus stayed seated in the chair besides Harry's bed and watched his son sleep, reluctant to leave Harry despite the sleeping medication all but ensuring his child would sleep for a minimum of eight hours.

He didn't know how long he stayed there watching Harry's chest rise and fall, but when his stomach grumbled he pulled himself away to eat a house-elf prepared meal of teriyaki chicken and rice. The house-elf even managed to convince him to eat the slice of apple pie that accompanied his meal.

After eating, Severus scanned the sitting room. It was a mess with bags from his shopping spree scattered everywhere and piles of parchment stacked on every table in sight. He couldn't leave the sitting room like it was. For one, the clutter was a tripping hazard, and two he had started on so many projects but had yet to complete one. If he took advantage of Harry's early evening, he could knock out at least one of his projects, perhaps two.

But before he could start on a project, the bags needed to go. They had distressed his child even though it was supposed to be something fun and exciting if only those damn Muggles hadn't convinced Harry that he didn't deserve to have an adult care for him and buy him the things he needed and some things he didn't need but wanted. Severus gathered up the clothing and linen bags and tossed the items into Harry's hamper to be washed. He was tempted to banish all of the old, overly large items that made up the majority of Harry's Muggle clothing, but it would be better if Harry had the chance to burn or banish the items as a form of closure.

Moving to the other bags, Severus opened up all the stationary products and placed them in a pile on top of Harry's desk. He hated anyone messing with his desk, and he had no idea what way Harry liked to organize things. Plus, it would give Harry a chance to personalize his room and make it his own. He did however shelve the new textbooks and supplementary texts above Harry's desk by subject.

With the necessary items put away, Severus was left with three bags that he refused to admit were toys. Each item somehow stimulated the brain making them educational tools rather than toys. He set the Gordian Knot brainteaser on Harry's bedside table and filled the empty bottom drawer with more brainteasers and 3-D plastic puzzles. That way Harry could peruse them as he wished. However, he left the Rubik's Cube in the bag and took that along with the board games and puzzles to the sitting room. The Rubik's Cube new home was the coffee table, a good place for anyone to grab and mess with it, and he conjured a crate for the games and puzzles.

His quarters were starting to look like a teenager lived there, and while he used to think he'd abhor the idea, it was a nice change. The rooms felt livelier with the small change and more like a proper home.

The clutter cleared, Severus retrieved a cup of coffee and spread out Harry's school files on the table, his chair angled just right to see through the open crack in his son's doorway. He hadn't gotten very far before, but was determined to finish the task before going to sleep. 

*~AIE~*

Groaning, Harry rolled over and pulled the duvet over his head while he blinked his eyes, disgusted by the crusty gunk that threatened to seal his eyes shut. How long had he slept? It felt like he'd been asleep a long time, yet he was still tired. How had he even gotten to bed? The last thing he remembered was holding his mum's birth certificate in Severus' room.

It really wasn't fair. The only memory he had of his mother was her dying, and the only handwriting he had of hers was his birth certificate. To make matters worse, his dad wasn't really his father, and he could've been living with his biological father his whole life instead of with the Dursleys if Snape hadn't abandoned him!

On one hand, Harry was livid with Snape, but on the other hand, he craved the affection and attention that Severus gave him. His angriness took up a lot of energy though, so mostly the craving affection and attention side were winning. It was too hard to fight a battle that he couldn't do anything about when he didn't have any energy to spare. Severus gave him pills and applied salve to keep the pain away, and he wouldn't go through that trouble if he didn't care for Harry, which he did. The memory was all he needed to see to have a bit of tangible proof that Severus cared for him.

Still, how could Severus have given him up? Wasn't he good enough? And if Snape could give him up then, what would stop him in the future? What had he done to make his own father walk away from him?

Sighing, Harry pushed his doubts and fears away before the slight pressure behind his eyes manifested into a headache. He sat up and put on his glasses, his mind too awake to fall back asleep. He glanced over to his left to see that his TPN bag wasn't empty yet so it was still early, but if the light flowing in through the cracked door was any indication, Severus was already up.

He stood and draped the throw blanket at the bottom of the bed around his shoulders before taking hold of the infusion pump and crossing the room to the door, pausing when he heard Severus' voice.

"How could you?" the Professor yelled. "The whole time you knew, yet you continued to trick me into signing these when I would've never signed over half of them!"

"Severus, no one else could legally sign them. I had to obtain your signature since Harry's legal guardianship always remained with you." Though Dumbledore's voice sounded tired, Harry heard the stubbornness underlying the Headmaster's tone. 

"I could take this in front of the Wizengamot," Severus threatened. "You'd lose and the Governors would be left with no choice but to remove you from your post."

"Yet you won't, not without Harry's permission, and I have no doubt Harry would object."

Harry could picture Dumbledore's hidden smirk as his eyes twinkled with glee.

"Harry wouldn't need to be present, and I could always file a confidential grievance with WCS instead. After all, if they find any negligence on your part over any student, WCS can deem you unfit to serve as Headmaster," Severus said, his voice so icy it caused a chill to run down Harry's spine. "I have enough evidence without including Harry to warrant an investigation by WCS."

"And you have confidence that my successor would not be chosen by the Ministry? Would, in light of the events, the Board or Ministry ask you to be Headmaster? Is that what you want?"

"And tie myself to the school even further?" Severus laughed. "You know of my intentions to leave Hogwarts once the war is finally over."

"What?" Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. If Snape left Hogwarts, what did that mean for him? Would Snape abandon him again, or would he really allow Harry to live with him away from Hogwarts?

"Please join us, Harry," the Professor called.

Harry came out of his hiding place to join Snape on the sofa with a guilty look plastered on his face. He knew eavesdropping was wrong, and he tried to curb the tendency that was ingrained in him from a young age, but when people were talking about him, Harry couldn't help but listen.

"How are you feeling?" Severus checked Harry's temperature with the back of his hand.

To his surprise, Severus didn't seem angry at all. "Tired."

"It's four in the morning. You should try to get some more sleep. Miss Adamson will arrive at nine for your chemo," Severus summoned the small bottle of eye drops.

Harry removed his glasses and tipped his head back so the Potions Master could squeeze a drop into each eye.

"Better?"

"Yes," Harry blinked. "Thanks."

"Off to bed with you then," Severus patted his arm.

"But-" Harry protested.

"Harry," Severus caught his eye. I won't leave you, and despite what you heard me say to the Headmaster, I have no plans to leave Hogwarts until you do. "You're falling asleep as it is."

Harry yawned before nodding, a goofy grin threatening to spread across his face.

"A minute, if you would Harry," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with malice. "There's a small matter that could easily be cleared up by you."

"Albus," the Potions Master growled.

"Harry," Dumbledore ignored Severus, "throughout your school years, I have had to obtain permission from your legal guardian over several matters. Of course, with the unbreakable vow I was under, I could not tell your father that you were indeed his child, so I had to obtain his signature in less than virtuous ways. You can surely see the necessity of this."

"What matters?" Harry turned to look at Severus.

"Permission for you to compete in the Triwizard Tournament is one example," the Professor handed Harry the signed parchment. "I would've never allowed you at that age to compete."

"I thought I had to compete," he looked at Severus and then Dumbledore. "You told me I had to after the Goblet spit my name out."

"You were misled," Severus squeezed Harry's shoulder.

"Cedric would still be alive and Voldemort," Harry trailed off.

"Don't," Severus stopped him. "You can't change the past." Furthermore, you're not responsible for the lives of others.

Harry gulped. He wanted to disagree with Severus. The prophecy was about him, but at the same time he wanted to believe the Professor so much. He wasn't the savior the wizarding world tried to pin him as, but a sick teenager that was lucky if his magic decided to cooperate that day. Could someone else really defeat Voldemort despite the prophecy?

Maybe. Possibly.

Someone else was going to have to try. Harry doubted Severus would ever let him face Voldemort. As Severus would point out, he'd saved Harry's life too many times to let him die.

"What you did was wrong," Harry avoided Dumbledore's eyes and instead looked at the wall above and behind the Headmaster's head. "If you trick him into signing a permission slip again, I'll go to the Prophet and Wizengamot myself. You have no legal say in what happens to me, and I'm not an object to control."

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore pleaded, "I had to do what I thought was best."

"For who? Me or the wizarding world?" Harry retorted, no longer feeling guilty for destroying the Headmaster's office at the end of term.

"For you of course."

"No. If you were concerned about my welfare you wouldn't have left me with the Dursleys," he whispered. "You never even checked on me."

"Albus, you should leave," Severus warned, pulling Harry into a hug.

Harry rested his head on Severus' chest and breathed in the minty smell emanating from the Professors' clothes despite Severus' absence from a potions lab. He heard Dumbledore leave before letting out a sigh of relief.

"Are you okay?" Severus pulled away to examine him.

"I'm fine," Harry insisted as he leaned more of his weight onto Severus.

"Then it's off to bed with you," the Potions Master patted his back twice.

"Not tired," Harry yawned.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Then lie here while I fix breakfast."

"Okay," Harry spread out on the sofa when Severus stood and retrieved a few pillows and the duvet from Harry's bed.

The last thing he remembered hearing was the fire being stoked before falling back into the deep abyss of sleep. 

The day went by in a blur for Harry. He didn't wake until his treatments were halfway over and spent the other half bent over the basin either throwing up or fighting off the near constant bouts of nausea. When he could he dozed to escape the nausea, thankful that every time he woke Severus was there to get him whatever he needed.

"Severus?" Harry cracked an eye open when he felt cold hands against his chest.

"Yes?"

"Your hands are cold."

"Sorry," Severus whispered as he finished connecting the TPN bag.

Harry looked down at his chest. One lumen was looped and taped to his stomach, and two were connected to something, but besides the TPN what else was being pumped into his body? The chemo had ended hours ago so it wasn't that. "What am I hooked up to?"

"Besides the TPN, you're getting another unit of blood. Your test results came back indicating anemia and low platelet counts, which isn't surprising considering you've slept on and off for over twenty-four hours," Severus pulled the covers up to Harry's chest.

"Is that bad?" Harry rolled onto his side to face his professor.

"No, it's expected," Severus laid the back of his hand onto Harry's forehead to check his temperature. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Harry yawned.

"No pain?"

Harry shook his head. "Am I drugged out of my mind?"

"Do you feel like you are?"

"No." Harry looked across the room to make sure he wasn't seeing anything out of the ordinary. "At least, I don't think I am."

"Good." Severus wrote something down in his chart.

"Can I go back to sleep, or do I need to stay up?" Harry asked as his eyes started to droop shut.

"You may, but you need to take your medications first." Severus pulled him up before placing the plastic cup filled with pills in his hand.

Harry groaned, but downed the pills and glass of water quickly so he could slide back down into his warm nest. 

*~AIE~*

Severus dreaded the day before he ever crawled out of bed. It was Friday and that meant it was time for Harry's second intrathecal chemo injection. Miss Adamson was up in the Hospital Wing with Poppy setting up for Harry's procedure. Severus, meanwhile, sat at the table with a cup of strong coffee, willing the caffeine to wake him up.

"I can't read this one." Harry slid an essay across the table.

"Hufflepuff, Finch-Fletchley, first year." Severus grimaced at the horrendous handwriting of a child not used to using a quill.

Harry had woken around 4 AM with enough nervous energy to power Harrods at Christmas. After convincing his son to try to sleep for two more hours, Severus woke up at six to find Harry sliding the last book onto his bookshelf from his trunk. Harry's desk was already cleared of the supplies Severus had bought him, and the wardrobe door was open to reveal Harry's clothes hung in order according to the colors of the rainbow.

Before Harry could think of any other unnecessary organizing projects, Severus had sat him down at the table with a huge stack of essays. As part of Umbridge's "reforms", professors were required at the end of winter term to send the OWL and NEWT taking students' essays to the Ministry's education department for student and professor evaluations. The Ministry examiners were supposed to have read the essays and use them as ten percent of the student's exam scores. In theory it was a good way to reward the students who put effort into their essays. However, the Ministry's intentions weren't to read the essays and factor them into the test scores but use the essays as proof a professor was incompetent and should be replaced. Of course as soon as Umbridge was ousted from Hogwarts so was the new procedure, leaving Severus with years worth of essays to reorganize and file.

"How do you have all these? You always return our essays to us." Harry scrunched up his forehead as he picked up one of his own failing essays.

"Duplication charms. We're required to save student work incase a parent or student disputes his grade." Severus refilled his coffee cup. "Finish your juice."

Harry drank the remaining apple juice from his glass. "I'm not dehydrated you know."

"You need the extra Vitamin C," Severus lied.

"I already take Vitamin C in the mornings." Harry dropped the essay in his hands as Severus saw something click in Harry's mind. "You slipped something in my juice!"

"A mild anti-anxiety drug," he rushed out. "Don't tell me you aren't calmer. I couldn't get you to sit still for five minutes without a sticking charm when you first woke up." Severus waved his hand to replace the empty glass with a new glass of water.

"I was a bit fidgety, wasn't I?" Harry covered his left hand with his right to stop the tapping his fingers had started once he no longer had an essay in his hand.

"A bit?" Severus cocked an eyebrow. "You organized your wardrobe by color in the middle of the night."

"I-" Harry paused before shrugging. "Did the Ministry really need our essays from first year?"

"Umbridge deemed it necessary that the examiners have access to every essay with the claim that the OWLs and NEWTs are cumulative tests so therefore the essays taken into consideration must be a sampling from each year."

"That's stupid. What I didn't know in first year shouldn't be an indication of what I know now." Harry crossed his arms and started pulling at the sleeves of his hoodie.

"Harry, it'll be okay." Severus walked around the table to squeeze Harry's shoulder.

"How can you say that?" Harry jumped up and away from Severus. He stumbled, but grabbed onto the table before he fell. "You aren't the one about to get a huge needle stuck in your spine!"

Severus took a step forward, but Harry's hasty retreat to the end of the table halted his steps. "If it wasn't necessary I wouldn't make you endure the procedure, but there's credible evidence from studies that if you refuse intrathecal injections, the leukemia will spread to the spinal fluid despite a clean spinal tap upon diagnosis."

"Isn't there some way Miss Adamson can magic the injection into my back?" Harry's grip tightened on the chair. "Madam Pomfrey has used magic to put potions in my stomach before."

"Your stomach is a large target compared to your spinal canal. You would not want Miss Adamson to miss her target if it was even possible to utilize magic for the injection." The Potions Master glanced towards the clock on the wall. They were due in the Hospital Wing in ten minutes.

"I could be paralyzed?" His child sunk into the chair, one hand tugging at his hair.

A large patch of hair fell out of Harry's hands and onto the table. Harry froze, his eyes fixated on the raven locks.

"Harry," Severus whispered as he approached his son from behind. "Look at me, child."

Harry twisted in the chair to look up at him. A look of disbelief was plastered onto his face.

"You pulled too hard," Severus lied. They both knew it was the start of Harry's hair falling out. He'd been expecting it and mentally prepared himself for it, but Harry looked beyond shocked. "Let's go."

"But-" Harry looked back at the lost locks.

"Later." Severus tapped his child's shoulder. "One thing at a time."

"Okay." Harry blinked.

Fifteen minutes later, Severus entered the Hospital Wing with Harry stumbling beside him. He didn't trust that Harry wouldn't pick up any germs from the floo, and his child's energy levels had crashed halfway up the staircase leading from the Entrance Hall. After Harry almost tripped on a stair despite leaning against Severus, the Potions Master had scooped his child into his arms and carried him with Harry protesting the entire way until they were right outside the Hospital Wing's doors.

"Good morning." Miss Adamson smiled. "Harry, you can go right into the procedure room, sweetie. You'll need to take off your top and roll down your pajama bottoms a few times. I'll give you a few minutes to get situated, and then we'll be in."

Harry nodded and continued to the procedure room at the back of the Hospital Wing.

"Severus, I need you to sign these forms," Miss Adamson handed Severus a clipboard. "With Harry's nerve damage, I might need to place Harry in a body bind from his armpits down to ensure he doesn't move. I'll give him another tactile test before I inject the local anesthetic, but if he can't handle my hands on his back, I won't be able to get the local anesthesia administered without a body bind."

"You'll likely need the body bind." Severus nodded his assent. Harry always twisted or jumped away from him when he applied the salve to his child's lower back. The nerves were sensitive to touch even when Harry wasn't registering any pain.

"The IV bag of caffeine we were hoping would arrive in time came just before I left. With any luck, the caffeine will work to stave off a spinal headache like he experienced last time. Were you able to slip Harry the anti-anxiety pill?"

"Yes. Will today's chemo be administered here or my quarters?" Severus had shrunk several books and journals incase he and Harry would be in the Hospital Wing all day.

"Here. My co-workers are covering my other cases for me today. I'd like to keep a close eye on Harry today to make sure the injection or his other chemo doesn't affect his nerves in any unexpected ways and also closely monitor his pain levels as the day continues to see if we need to adjust his medication levels." Miss Adamson took the clipboard back from Severus. "If there was anything you needed to do, this afternoon would be a good time."

"I'm fine." Severus straightened up as he suppressed a yawn. He wasn't about to leave Harry alone in the Hospital Wing.

"Of course." Miss Adamson smirked. "Let's not keep Harry waiting."

*~AIE~*

Harry sat on the edge of the procedure table with one of the purple striped blankets wrapped around his shoulders. What was taking Severus and Miss Adamson so long? If he had to get a needle shoved into his back he wanted it done and over with.

"How are you doing today, Harry?" Pomfrey sat on a rolling stool beside the table.

"Fine." He looked towards the door. "Are they almost done?"

"Almost. Professor Snape had to fill out a few consent forms. Did you have any questions about the procedure today?"

"How long will it take?" Harry's eyes never left the door.

"About twenty minutes, but a lot of the time is prep. The needle won't be in you but for a few minutes at the longest, just enough time to collect some spinal fluid and then insert the chemo." Pomfrey squeezed his hand. "The procedure sounds worse than it is."

"That's what Severus said." Harry chewed on his lip.

"How are your nerves? Miss Adamson and I have been discussing some different physical therapy techniques that might be beneficial to you."

"The same." Harry held out his hands. They trembled, and as much as he tried he couldn't do anything to stop it. "Severus bought me some Muggle pens and pencils that are easier to write with. I wasn't getting anywhere with a quill."

"I'd imagine so." Madam Pomfrey laid her hands under Harry's. "Squeeze my hands."

Harry squeezed her hands until his fingers cramped up. "Like that?"

"Exactly like that." Pomfrey took his right hand in hers and started to massage his fingers. "Your grip is weak, but not horribly so. We'll work on getting your muscles strengthened and that should help with your control. Are you having any problems with clasps or tying your shoes?"

"No," Harry shook his head. While it was the truth, it wasn't completely true. Harry hadn't needed to slip on any shoes besides his slippers since his treatments started so it was possible he'd have trouble tying them, not that he'd admit that to Pomfrey.

"Good. Relax your hand for me."

Harry relaxed his hand. He hoped the physical therapy would help. It was rather embarrassing to worry about spilling his glass or reaching out for something and seeing his hand shaking.

Pomfrey let go of his right hand and picked up the left one. He flexed his right hand, feeling the loosened muscles and realizing how tight the muscles had been. He hadn't been in pain, or at least any pain that he could feel. Severus made sure he took his morphine on time. But were the pain meds working that well or was there any pain to feel? Quidditch proved his muscles could be tight without feeling any pain.

As Pomfrey finished, Severus and Miss Adamson walked through the door and any feelings of relaxation Pomfrey's ministrations had given him were gone. Severus had a forced look of reassurance on his face. He hadn't realized he could read Severus' expressions before, and it was a horrible time for it to dawn on him considering he could really use a bit of reassurance from his professor. If Severus wasn't truly calm about the procedure, how could he expect Harry to be?

"Ready, Harry?" Miss Adamson's voice was as chipper as ever.

Harry shrugged to hide his fear, wondering if Miss Adamson was ever less than optimistic. Did she tell her patients they were dying in that chirpy tone, too?

"Can you lie down on your side for me? I need to run a few scans first, and then we'll get started. Okay?" Miss Adamson walked over to him.

Harry felt the tingle of magic over his skin as he lied on his side. Severus replaced Pomfrey on the stool and Harry reached for the Professor's hand.

"Try to relax." Severus brushed the hair away from Harry's eyes.

"I can't." Harry closed his eyes, willing the injection to be over.

"I know."

"Alright, sweetie, the scans look good. Can you pull your knees up to your chest and angle your neck forward?" Miss Adamson helped push his knees up. "Perfect. Hold still now."

Magic rippled through his body, locking his body in place, and Harry snapped his eyes open. "Severus?" the timbre of Harry's voice jumped up an octave.

"Don't panic, Harry." Severus cupped his chin. "The body bind is temporary and to ensure you don't move. Miss Adamson will reverse it once the procedure is over. You can still move your arms and head. See?" The Potions Master held up their entwined hands.

"I hate this." Harry hugged Severus' hand close to his chest.

"It'll be over soon."

"I want it over now," Harry whined. He didn't care if he sounded like a spoilt brat. He hated feeling confined. It reminded him of all the times the Dursleys locked him in the cupboard and later in Dudley's second bedroom.

"Hold on. You can squeeze my hand as hard as you need to. Miss Adamson and Madam Pomfrey are scrubbing in, and then they'll start."

"I want to go home," Harry said before realizing what slipped out. "I mean to your quarters."

Severus' quarters were more like a home than he'd ever had. They were the only place that he had a room that felt like his, and the only place he'd ever fully unpacked. The Dursleys didn't count since the clothes and things they gave him weren't really his, but his cousin's castaways.

"It's your home as well, and we'll return home as soon as Miss Adamson lets you," Severus promised.

"Harry, Madam Pomfrey is going to hook you up to a few things, and then I'll begin, sweetie. I'll need to know if you're feeling any pain," Miss Adamson informed him.

"Okay," Harry croaked as he shut his eyes and squeezed Severus' hand between both of his.

"You're alright," Severus whispered in his ear.

Harry tried to hang onto the reassuring timbre of Severus' voice, but Miss Adamson's hand on his lower back ensnared his mind until all he could focus on was the pain. He whimpered and the hand remained, but its pressure lessened.

"Hurts." Harry tried to curl up further into a ball, but his torso and legs remained locked in position. "Let me go."

"Shh." Harry felt Severus' breath tickle his ear while the Professor's free hand cupped the back of his head, holding it in place.

"No!" he cried feeling something cold spread on his back. "No!"

Severus' hold on his head disappeared for a moment before holding him in place once more. "Stay with me, Harry."

A needle pierce his skin and intense pain flared down to the tips of his toes and up to the top of his head and out to his fingertips, so intense he struggled to breath. He coughed and gasped, his lungs searching for air. The beeping in the background sped up and a mask was shoved over his nose and mouth.

"Breathe, child." Severus' soothing tone broke through his panic, and Harry coughed once more before inhaling the oxygen that streamed through the mask. "That's it."

Harry took deep breaths, the oxygen saturating his lungs. The beeps steadied, and he opened his eyes to meet Severus' gaze. The pain had faded, but an uncomfortable tingling sensation remained throughout his body. Harry reached up to pull down the mask, but Severus stopped him.

"She needs to numb the other side of your back," Severus explained, his voice strained.

Harry shook his head. He couldn't handle that amount of pain again. The pain was worse than the Cruciatus from Voldemort he suffered under at the end of fourth year.

"I'm so sorry," Severus whispered as he nodded to Miss Adamson.

Pain blinded him. He felt millions of miniscule needles sinking into every pore on his body. Harry screamed.

"Shh." Severus wiped the tears that leaked out of Harry's eyes.

Harry's screams turned to whimpers as the pain receded to a manageable level. He kept his eyes shut and his hands wrapped around Severus' right hand. Tears slid down his cheeks, but he ignored them. 

Harry chewed on his lip, a metallic taste filling his mouth, until the pain in his back morphed into a blissful numbness. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The numbness was welcome, but he didn't want to have to go through that ever again to completely eliminate the pain from his back.

"The worst is over, child. You shouldn't feel anymore pain." Severus removed the oxygen mask, propping it up so it could continue to blow extra oxygen across Harry's face, but Harry didn't feel as confined.

"I hate you." Harry whimpered. Severus had lied to him. He had said it wouldn't be that bad, but the procedure was torturous in Harry's book.

"I know."

"I need you to hold still now, Harry." Miss Adamson's fingers ghosted over his spine.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He felt an uncomfortable pressure on his spine, but no pain. He relaxed the tiniest bit and tried to call up the calming wave sounds from his mural.

"She's almost done." Severus pressed a cool cloth to Harry's bleeding lip.

Harry laid still as Miss Adamson finished collecting a sample of his spinal fluid and injected the chemotherapy. The needle was withdrawn and Miss Adamson put pressure on the lumbar puncture site before sticking a bandage over it.

"All done." Miss Adamson sighed in relief, releasing Harry from the body bind.

Harry pulled his knees further to his chest as his right hand rubbed at his scar, a steady pounding escalating behind his forehead.

*~AIE~*

Severus tucked the silver blanket charmed to help soothe the pain from nerve damage around Harry, settling the child into the Hospital Wing bed. He wrung out a soft cloth in a basin of cool water and wiped the tears from his son's face that continued to leak from his eyes.

"It's over, child," Severus whispered, needing the reassurance for himself as well as his son.

The procedure went worse than Severus could've predicted. He expected Harry to feel a bit of manageable pain when Miss Adamson injected the local anesthesia into Harry's back, but he would've never allowed the procedure to happen without fully sedating Harry first if he had had any idea of the pain it had just caused his child.

"I'm sorry." Severus couldn't apologize enough. The procedure was necessary, and he hated that Harry had to go through it. Furthermore, Severus had learnt his lesson. He'd see to it that the procedures needed, as part of Harry's treatment plan would be done as painlessly as possible. Harry may be close to adulthood and expected to endure a bit more pain than younger children, but Severus wouldn't allow Harry to feel that pain if it could be prevented.

"How is he?" Miss Adamson walked to the end of the bed.

"Asleep, passed out, pick one," Severus snarled. "I won't tolerate a repeat of that procedure."

"Neither will I," Miss Adamson bowed her head. "There was no reason he should've felt that much pain even with the nerve damage."

Severus shook his head. Something had happened during the procedure that he couldn't explain. He could've sworn he saw Harry's emerald eyes shift to a reddish tone for a split second right before the first shot of local anesthesia. He didn't want to begin to think of what that meant. The Potions Master would need to discuss the possibilities with Albus. As much as he hated the man at the moment, The Headmaster was the only one who knew the depth of the connection between his child and the Dark Lord.

"You could use some rest yourself, Severus," Miss Adamson motioned to the empty bed beside Harry's.

"I'm fine," Severus insisted. He wasn't going to leave Harry now when he couldn't be sure the Dark Lord wasn't lurking around waiting for Severus to leave Harry unprotected. He could enter Harry's mind if the Dark Lord decided to attack again and force the evil bastard out, but he couldn't do that while he slept.

"You aren't doing that boy any good if you don't take care of yourself," Poppy harped on him from across the room. "Don't make me use your own potions to drug you into sleep, Severus Snape. You're too stubborn for your own good."

"I said I'm fine," Severus growled. He didn't trust Poppy or Miss Adamson to detect the signs of a mental attack, not after it had happened before when he entrusted Poppy to look after Harry. And if he did anything to leave Harry's side, it would be to talk to the Headmaster so they could figure out how to solve whatever had happened to Harry and prevent it from happening again, not sleep. That's what Pepper-up potion and caffeine were for.

"Would you rather I fetch Minerva or Molly?" Poppy sighed.

Severus smoothed down a patch of Harry's hair that was sticking straight up. He couldn't do two things at once, and he certainly wasn't going to discuss the possibilities with the Headmaster in the Hospital Wing where Harry had a chance to overhear them. At the same time, Severus needed to be there when Harry woke.

"How long will he be asleep?"

"The sedative should wear off in a few hours." Miss Adamson checked the infusion pump.

Severus had insisted Miss Adamson give Harry a stronger sedative than the one Harry received during the procedure as soon as the bandage was stuck onto Harry's back. His child needed an escape after the trauma of the injection, a chance to recover comfortably.

"Will you ask Minerva to come sit with Harry?" Severus turned to Poppy.

"Of course." Poppy turned to leave.

"Do you require a sleeping aid?" Miss Adamson added an extra blanket to the foot of the adjacent bed.

"I'm not going to sleep." Severus traced a finger over Harry's scar. "I must speak with the Headmaster."

"As you wish."

"When will you be starting his chemo?" Severus didn't want Harry to face the infusions without him. They went fine yesterday, but whatever had happened during the injection could rear its head again during Harry's chemotherapy infusions.

"Once he wakes and I've examined him. I want to make sure there aren't any lingering effects first."

"Don't start without me." Severus pulled the extra blanket from the adjacent bed and spread it out over Harry.

"I won't."

Severus nodded and turned back to his son. He checked Harry's temperature with a scan and watched the magical display of numbers showing Harry's stats. All the stats indicted Harry was fine, but Severus knew something in connection with the Dark Lord wasn't right. What he saw wasn't a mental attack or possession, but something he hadn't seen before.

"Severus?" Minerva squeezed his shoulder.

"I must speak with Albus." Severus tucked the covers around Harry tighter before standing up. "I want to know the moment Harry starts to stir."

"Of course. I won't move from this chair." Minerva sat down with an owl-order catalogue with pictures of quills and textbooks on the cover.

"Thank you."

"Go speak with Albus. The sooner you go the sooner you'll return." Minerva waved him away.

Molly Weasley meandered around Grimmauld Place, checking on her children and their assigned cleaning tasks. If the house was to hold Sirius' memorial on Tuesday, the doxies needed to be dealt with and the rooms needed a thorough cleaning.

"Mum, can't we break for lunch yet?" Ron dropped a sponge into a bucket of soapy water before sitting back on his heels.

"You ate breakfast an hour ago." Molly shook her head. "Get back on your knees and start scrubbing. This house won't clean itself."

"Can't you use a few cleaning charms? My knees hurt." Ron wrung out the sponge.

"Cleaning charms can only do so much, and if you want Harry to come-"

"Harry's coming?" Ron jumped to his feet.

"It depends on how he's feeling, but he can't come if this house isn't cleaned now can he?" Molly pointed to the entrance hall's floor.

"Right." Ron dropped to his knees and started scrubbing.

Molly added more bleach to the list she was carrying around. She had flooed Poppy last night to ask what she needed to do to get Grimmauld Place safe for Harry to visit and to her surprise Miss Adamson had shown up early in the morning with tips to clean and sanitize the dreary house. Some of the tips were Muggle, like using diluted bleach that she'd sent Bill to the Tesco Express on the corner to retrieve. The chemical smell was horrible, but with a few ventilation charms they were managing. Harry wouldn't get ill from a visit as long as she had anything to say about it.

Satisfied that Ron wouldn't stop his task as soon as she rounded the corner, Molly headed into the drawing room where the twins were supposed to be cleaning the floo with magic. Instead she spotted two identical redheads packing some kind of candy creation into rows of small boxes.

"Boys!" Molly glared.

"Mum?" George knocked over the box he was filling.

"We can explain." Fred sent the boxes and candy floating over to the corner with a flick of his wand.

"I don't want an explanation! You two will clean the floo like I asked you to or else I'll take away your wands and send Fleur in here to watch you clean this entire room without magic." Molly banished the boxes and candy.

"Aren't you overreacting just a bit, Mum?" George patted her shoulder. "You love us too much to subject us to that torture."

Molly pushed George's hand down. "You'll have your wands out and casting before I finish this sentence or else Fleur it is!"

The twins scrambled over to the floo, and with their backs turned to her Molly waved her wand towards her most troublesome children.

"Mum, we're not two," Fred complained as the monitoring charm took effect.

"No? Then stop acting like it. Be good and I may remove it after dinner tonight."

"But we have a meeting at two in Diagon Alley."

"Then it better be an innocent and lawful meeting." Molly turned and exited the drawing room before the twins could protest further. She had a grocery list to make and china to clean.

*~AIE~*

Severus watched the Headmaster finish up a missive from his seat in front of the Headmaster's desk. He had declined tea and lemon tarts, but instead summoned a house-elf to bring him coffee. He didn't trust that the Headmaster's tea wasn't laced with a calming draught or something worse, not after Dumbledore's recent actions.

"I trust Harry's doing well or otherwise you wouldn't be here." Dumbledore poured himself a cup of tea with a sigh. "I know you are still angry with me, but it is in the Order's best interests if we agree to put that aside and work together. It is your son's future that's at stake."

"Harry's future is growing up into an adult, not as a weapon waiting to serve its purpose," Severus growled.

"Severus, you cannot deny that even if prophecy is rubbish, Voldemort believes it's true. Harry will continue to be a target as long as Voldemort lives."

"I can protect him, and I'll battle the Dark Lord if I must." Severus' voice was low and icy as he jumped up and leaned over the Headmaster's desk. "I don't see you doing anything besides positioning a child to fight an adults' war."

"Sit down, my boy. The situation is more complicated than you realize." The Headmaster's tone sounded tired and resigned.

"Then tell me and don't dance around the subject all day! I have a sick child to take care of!" Severus flopped back into the chair.

"What is it that you came to see me about? Did Harry have another vision?" Dumbledore redirected the conversation.

"I don't know." Severus looked out the window. "Harry had his second intrathecal injection and immediately before Miss Adamson injected the local anesthesia into Harry's back I saw his eyes turn red. He experienced unbearable pain with both of the shots that shouldn't have caused more than a bit of discomfort."

"What are these injections?"

"They deliver chemotherapy to the spinal fluid and the fluid surrounding his brain."

"I see. Was there anything different about this injection compared to his previous one?" The Headmaster walked over to a bookshelf.

"He was sedated for the first one."

"Interesting." Dumbledore set the book before the Potions Master. "Tell me, Severus, have you heard of horcruxes?"

"What? What do horcruxes have to do with my son?" Severus' gaze snapped to the open book in front of him. Whatever they were, the name alone wreaked of dark magic.

"Humor an old man and read the passage." Dumbledore waved his hand at the book.

Severus picked up the book and read the no-nonsense description of horcruxes, revulsion growing with each word his eyes registered. He stared at the end of the page. The Headmaster wouldn't have him read it if it didn't mean anything, but what did this darkest form of the dark arts have to do with Harry?

"No," Severus whispered, the book dropping from his hands.

"I'm afraid so. I've suspected it for some time, but this latest occurrence confirms it." The Headmaster leaned against his desk. "I tried to warn you not to get too close."

"There has to be some way." The Potions Master paced in front of the floo.

"I've tried other methods, Severus, and all have failed. Horcruxes must be destroyed."

"No!" Severus grabbed the dainty decorative bowl of floo powder and flung it across the room, the emerald green powder sparkling as it floated to the floor. "I'll find another way! A potion, a spell, whatever I have to develop or invent I will! He can't die!"

"There is time yet, and I will give you my notes."

"What do you mean, there's time?" Severus whipped around to face the Headmaster.

"I believe there are seven horcruxes, a very powerful number as you know, and three have been destroyed. With Harry, that leaves three unaccounted for. Voldemort never intended to make a horcrux out of Harry, and from what I can surmise, Voldemort doesn't suspect Harry carries a horcrux within his scar."

"Will the chemotherapy rid Harry of the horcrux? The Dark Lord is too arrogant to guard against Muggle means. Tell me, Albus! Tell me I'm not putting my child through painful treatments for nothing!" Severus ran his hand through his hair.

"Severus-"

"Albus, don't." The Potions Master held up his hand. "I have to believe there's some hope of the chemotherapy killing the horcrux when he can't have potions while he's going through his treatments, and if his treatments are stopped the cancer will kill him. I promised him I wouldn't let him die!"

"Sit down, Severus." Albus pushed him into a chair.

"I promised him, and now you tell me this!" Severus dropped his head into his hands. He felt like he knew less about his son than those ridiculous unauthorized biographies of the Boy Who Lived. "What else don't I know about my own child?"

"Nothing."

"Albus!"

"There's nothing else, my boy." Albus squeezed the Slytherin's shoulder. "Nothing else."

*~AIE~*

Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the offending light as the ache behind his scar pulsed and pounded. He rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket over his head.

"Harry," Severus whispered.

"Go away," Harry grumbled. He wanted to drift back to sleep where it was dark and silent, not listen and feel the beeps synchronize with the pulsating sensation of his headache.

"It's time to wake up."

"I don't want to." Harry burrowed further into his cocoon of blankets. His spot was warm and comfortable.

A cool breeze fluttered across his face. Harry cracked open one eye to see Severus peaking under the blanket. "You said that an hour ago."

"I did?" Harry didn't remember waking up an hour ago. "One more hour?"

"Not unless you wish to remain in the Hospital Wing well past dinner." Severus smirked.

"Fine." Harry pulled the blanket down, his elbows buckling under him as he tried to sit up.

"Don't sit up." Severus laid a hand on Harry's chest. "How are you feeling?"

Harry raised his arms above his head and stretched, wincing from the soreness in his back. "My head and back hurt."

"Does your back hurt, or is it sore?" Severus brushed away Harry's fringe.

"It's sore." Harry leaned into the Professor's hand.

"Here." Severus placed the PCA pump button in Harry's palm with his free hand.

"Thanks."

"Look up." Severus dropped a drop into each of his eyes before sliding Harry's glasses onto his face.

"Severus?" Harry caught Severus' reddened eyes now that his vision was clear.

"Yes?"

"What's wrong?" Harry had expected Miss Adamson and Madam Pomfrey to descend upon him after he woke to check him over after how the chemo injection went.

"Nothing." Severus traced Harry's scar before cupping his cheek. "Nothing's wrong."

"You look like you've been crying."

"I'm just tired. It's been a long day." Severus smiled, the kind of smile that was forced and fake, but Harry didn't press the issue. Maybe his professor was tired, and there was nothing else to it.

"Please tell me that was the last intrathecal injection I'll need."

"I'm sorry it won't be the last, Harry, but Miss Adamson and I have already agreed that next time you'll be sedated so you won't have to go through that again. I should've had her sedate you today," Severus paused. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Harry was used to dealing with pain.

"No, it's not, child. You should've never had to deal with that pain, and it won't happen again."

Harry shrugged. He felt too tired and weak to be angry, not that his anger would do any good. What was done was done. They couldn't go back and change it.

He looked up at the ceiling to check if he was hallucinating or seeing anything out of the ordinary. Normally, he'd be shouting and screaming at anyone who was involved with the procedure, but he was a bit out of it with all the drugs they were giving him. There wasn't anything strange on the ceiling for a magical school.

"Miss Adamson has me drugged up again, doesn't she?"

"A bit." Severus squeezed his hand. "Are you feeling out of it?"

"Not really. I know I should be angry, but I can't seem to make myself care about being angry or not being angry." An image of his drugged self in Potions made him laugh. "Ow!" Harry grabbed his head.

"What's wrong?" Severus jumped to his feet, his wand clutched in his hand.

"Nothing. I was just thinking that Potions would've been so much easier with these drugs since I can't seem to get angry, and then I laughed but it made my headache worse." Harry forced a smile on his face.

"Don't frighten me like that, brat." Severus placed a cool cloth on Harry's forehead. "Does that help?"

"Yeah, and I'm sorry. You have to admit though that Potions would've been easier if I didn't fight back."

"A drugged student is just what I need in a room full of volatile equipment and ingredients." Severus rolled his eyes.

"Where are Miss Adamson and Madam Pomfrey?"

"Are you ready then to be poked and prodded?"

"Poked?" Harry's eyes widened.

"Not literally though she's going to do another tactile exam to make sure you didn't suffer any more nerve damage before she starts your chemo."

Harry groaned. He didn't want any more tests or chemo today. "Then do we get to go home?"

"After your chemo, yes, but I've brought Lord of the Rings to read to you if you're good." Severus nodded towards the stack of books on the bedside table.

"Fine." Harry huffed, wanting nothing more than to go home to his bed, Lord of the Rings or not.

*~AIE~*

Severus remained by Harry's bedside as Miss Adamson ran her scans and performed another tactile exam on his child, thankful that this time the tactile exam wasn't painful. The test showed more weakness in Harry's legs, but that was likely temporary and from the lumbar puncture. Miss Adamson then started the chemotherapy infusion.

Harry fell back to sleep, but Severus couldn't stop watching his son. His eyes lingered over the thunderbolt shaped scar. A living horcrux. His child was carrying a fraction of the worst megalomaniac of their time's soul within him!

How much could one child handle without breaking? Harry kept testing the limits, and each time Severus grew more worried that one more thing would send his child over the edge.

Harry wouldn't know of the horcrux. Severus feared explaining it to his son and refused to give Harry that impossible choice, but as Severus saw it there wasn't a choice. Harry was going to get married and give Severus grandchildren one day, not die. Harry had to live. Severus couldn't handle losing the child he'd gotten to know in the past two weeks, the child that was his own flesh and blood and Lily's last gift to him. Too many people had died needless deaths in this war, and Harry wasn't going to become another statistic to be forgotten in history.

Something had happened with the horcrux during the intrathecal injection. The Dark Lord never pushed in and out of Harry's mind that quickly, and there would've been a clear mental connection if the Dark Lord were attacking his child. The unexplainable pain had to have come from the horcrux feeling threatened. Why else would the pain have stopped otherwise? Harry wasn't strong enough to defend a mental attack against the Dark Lord, and that bastard would've wanted to make the pain last as long as he could. However, the question remained if the chemo did anything to kill off or separate the horcrux from Harry.

Severus would start researching other possible methods to rid Harry of the horcrux the moment Harry was settled for the night. He had books in his library on dark arts that weren't allowed in Hogwarts' library, and there were more still at Prince Manor. The Black library at Order Headquarters was another available option. Even though it would be easy to recruit someone else to help, Severus planned to tell no one of the subject he was researching. He didn't trust anyone with it, not when his child's life depended on it.

The Potions Master traced the infamous scar once more before sitting back and grabbing Dumbledore's duplicated notes on horcruxes. With any luck Severus' research wouldn't be needed, but he was never one to count on luck.

*~AIE~*

The night was a rough one for Harry. He couldn't get comfortable and once he did his back would stiffen and hurt and he'd have to find another acceptable position. Added to that was his nausea from the chemo that caused him to throw up half the night. He finally fell into a deep sleep around four and didn't wake until Miss Adamson was disconnecting him from his last chemo treatment of week one of the induction chemo cycle.

"You're chemo free for two weeks besides the weekly intrathecal injections." Miss Adamson smiled as she flushed Harry's Hickman. "I'll stop by daily to get a blood sample and see how you're doing, but these next two weeks should be easier on you."

"Really?" Harry couldn't believe it. The week had dragged on for so long that the chemo treatments seemed never ending.

"Really. You're to rest and let your body recover. Regain your appetite. I want you putting back on some of the weight you've lost."

Harry groaned. Nothing sounded appetizing, and he couldn't imagine that changing anytime soon.

"Stop that." Miss Adamson poked his side. "In a few days I want to begin weaning you off the TPN and morphine, and once your stamina recovers we'll start some light physical therapy."

"Fine. I'll try." Harry pulled on a soft charcoal grey jumper Severus had bought him.

"That's all I ask, sweetie. Is there anything either of you need before I go?"

Harry and Severus shook their heads.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow. Don't hesitate to floo if you need me." Miss Adamson poked Harry one more time before leaving.

"She's too cheerful." Harry crossed his arms across his chest, hating that he could feel his Hickman underneath his jumper.

"It's good for you."

"You're saying that cheerfulness is a good thing? The dungeon dweller of Hogwarts?"

"Aren't you also a dungeon dweller of Hogwarts?" Severus cocked an eyebrow at him.

"No fair! I didn't choose the dungeons for my quarters!" Harry sank back on his pillows and pouted.

Severus smirked. "In all fairness, I didn't get to choose where my quarters were located. I was the youngest member on staff by many years and without any teaching experience. Therefore, I was allocated the worst available quarters."

"Why didn't you switch when you had a chance?"

"By then I had made these rooms my home with renovations, and so I claimed the space above us for my personal library instead. Now that I'm Head of Slytherin these quarters are ideally located close to the Slytherin dorms and common room. Though I never imagined I'd have them altered again for a Gryffindor of all things," Severus teased.

"I meant what I said about the Sorting Hat. I convinced it not to put me in Slytherin because I had met Malfoy when I got my robes, and then Ron told me that every bad wizard had come from Slytherin." Harry pulled at his sleeves.

"I imagine things would've been much different had you been sorted into my house." Severus placed his hand on Harry's arm.

"Does it bother you that I'm not a Slytherin?" Harry looked down at his duvet.

"No, child, though we will have to talk with Minerva and the Headmaster when you start attending classes. It wouldn't be fair for you to get into trouble twice because I'm your, because I'm a professor at this school."

Harry felt the bed dip before Severus wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He drew his knees up to his chest and leaned into Severus', his father's side. "Do you think you would've found out sooner?"

"Maybe. I would've had access to your files and been responsible for collecting your permission slips, but that doesn't mean the Headmaster wouldn't have done something else to ensure I didn't find out. Besides the difficulty in receiving your Hogwarts letter, a common thing among Muggleborns or Muggle raised children, you hid anything that would've raised suspicions or a red flag for Minerva to investigate." Severus wrapped a blanket around them. "She never liked Albus placing you there, but she had no plausible reason to intervene."

"I told a primary school teacher once when I was six. My aunt and uncle convinced the social worker I was lying. She didn't believe me when I showed her my cupboard. She thought it was my chosen hideaway," Harry whispered.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to take you away." Severus kissed the top of his head.

"They never beat me. Uncle Vernon dislocated my shoulder by accident once when he woke me up to help cook breakfast, but he took me to hospital for it and never grabbed me by the arm again." Harry closed his eyes. However horrible the Dursleys were to him they never physically hurt him on purpose. That would leave marks, and he liked to think his relatives had some limit to their indifference towards him.

Severus tensed beside him. "How old were you?"

"Four. They withheld food, but I never completely starved and after the incident with my shoulder Aunt Petunia made me drink two glasses of milk a day until I was eight. I often only got a sandwich to eat for dinner, but I got free lunches at school. It wasn't until I went back after coming to Hogwarts that I realized I've never eaten enough."

"Didn't you ever wonder why you were smaller than most of the children in your class?"

"I just figured I was small and that maybe my mum and dad were, too." Harry shrugged. He didn't mind being the smallest in his class as a child. In primary school they were lined up by height so Harry was the leader and closest to the teacher whenever they left the classroom. His teachers had liked him, and it kept him safer from Dudley.

"Does it bother you now?"

"Sometimes. Almost all of the girls in my year are the same height or taller than me and that's annoying. Ron keeps getting taller and taller. I don't necessarily want to be as tall as him, but it would be nice to grow a few inches." It would be nice to fit into adult clothes, too. He was sure he was the last person in his year to wear children's clothing.

"You haven't had a significant growth spurt. There's a good chance once your chemo treatments are over or at least in the maintenance stage, you'll sprout up a few inches with the right nutrition." Severus rubbed light circles into Harry's back.

"Really?" Harry snapped his head up to look at Severus. If he could grow enough to reach 5'7 or 5'8 he'd be happy. Three to four inches was all he was asking for.

"It's probable, and if you haven't grown once you're through with treatments for good, we can consult with Miss Adamson about a few rounds of growth potions if it bothers you that much."

"Thank you." Harry leaned further into Severus' side with a smile on his face. No one had offered to look into something health wise that wasn't absolutely necessary for him before.

"Can you tell me about your cupboard?" Severus whispered.

Harry hesitated. The cupboard was his, a place no one else went into and despite the reasons his relatives put him in there he felt the closest thing he had known to safety until this summer in his cupboard. "It was a cupboard under the stairs that was my room."

"Your bedroom?"

"My room," Harry repeated, not wanting to say anything else about it. He tensed up and hid his face in Severus' shoulder.

"I'm here to listen when you're ready to say more. Thank you, child, for telling me."

Harry nodded. A small weight had been lifted off his shoulder and although he'd have to talk more about his time with the Dursleys eventually, it was relieving to stop hiding that part of him to at least one person.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

Severus hesitated. "Are you alright with me being your father?"

Harry stilled. Was he okay with it? He felt safe with Severus and was starting to grow used to the idea of Severus providing for him even though he didn't know how to act around Severus at times. It still boggled his mind to think about having a parent that was alive after so many years of not having any parental figure or guidance in his life. Harry couldn't believe he wasn't a burden to Severus yet and wondered sometimes when the Potions Master's generosity and patience would end. The whirlwind of the past two weeks, however, had shown Harry a man that hadn't been the father he dreamed of as a child, but a man that continued to take care of him and keep him as safe as Severus could.

"Not yet, but I think I'm getting there."

Harry stirred his bowl of applesauce clockwise, then figure eight, then counter-clockwise in a continuous pattern. He wasn't hungry, and the thought of choking down more than the three bites he had already eaten made him nauseous.

"I'm not fooled by your stirring." Severus set down The Daily Prophet.

"I'm not hungry." Harry let his spoon sink into the bowl.

"Two more spoonfuls."

"I'm not three." Harry pushed his bowl away.

"Regardless of your biological age or the age you're acting, you need to eat." Severus slid the bowl back to him.

"Can't you give me extra TPN instead?" He dug his spoon out, applesauce sliding off and falling in globs back into the bowl. "Gross."

"Your body needs nutrients from real food, not from a bag of nutrient enriched liquid." Severus waved his hand, and the applesauce disappeared from the spoon and Harry's hand. "Two more bites."

"Fine." Harry shoved two spoonfuls of applesauce into his mouth. "Can I be dismissed now?" He was tired of sitting at the table like some little kid needing to be watched.

"It's may I, and no, you may not." Severus levitated the dreaded bowl and spoon to the sink before setting an individually wrapped soft mint in front of Harry. "To help settle your stomach."

"Thanks." Harry popped the mint into his mouth.

"They're in a jar on the kitchen counter."

Harry nodded. He hadn't stepped foot into the kitchen yet, though Severus' comment sounded like he meant for Harry to grab anything he wanted from it, the complete opposite of the Dursleys.

Severus cleared his throat. "Would you like to shave your head?"

"What?" Harry's head slammed into the back of his chair.

"Do you want to shave your head?"

"Why?" Harry rubbed the back of his head.

A clump of hair fell onto the floor.

Harry froze. He had forgotten about the clump that had fallen out yesterday until now. Was his hair going to keep falling out in clumps like that? Maybe if he kept his hands out of his hair it wouldn't fall out. But he had noticed more hair on his pillow that morning, and he had stopped looking down when he showered after he started chemo. Was it noticeable his hair was falling out? Did he have bald spots already?

"Lean forward."

Harry rested his head in his hands as Severus' fingers prodded the back of his head. He jumped when Severus hit the spot he banged on the chair. It didn't really hurt, but the spot ached.

"It may be sore for a bit, but you're fine."

Harry rolled his eyes. Add that to the soreness in his back and all over low level of discomfort from the nerve damage. At least his head didn't feel like a miniature dragon was trying to break through it yet today.

"May I be excused?" Harry wanted nothing more than to hole up in his room and sulk. Didn't he deserve a day to be angry at the world?

"You may." Severus stepped away from Harry's chair.

Harry set one hand on the table and the other on the chair before pushing himself to his feet. He took a deep breath and waited for the dizziness to pass. He really shouldn't feel like an eighty year old at fifteen. Once he was sure he could make it, Harry half-limped, half-stumbled his way to his room, slamming his door shut.

*~AIE~*

Severus set his quill down and pinched the bridge of his nose. The books in his library were little more than useless and the books Albus sent down were informative but did nothing to help him start to formulate a potion to separate the Horcrux from his son. Severus looked at the pocket watch lying out in the middle of the disarray of books and parchment he had created on top of his large library table. 5:30 PM. Four hours was more than enough time for Harry to sulk.

Sighing, Severus left the peacefulness of his library. Ever since the chemotherapy ended on Saturday and his child started feeling better Harry's moods had been swinging from one extreme to the next. He knew it was a side effect of the steroids, but that didn't make the mood swings any easier to deal with. Severus wouldn't be surprised to find Harry bawling instead of sulking when he entered Harry's room.

Tomorrow, however, promised to be the ultimate test of his patience when they went to Grimmauld Place for Black's memorial. If Harry was well enough. His child needed the closure the memorial would bring, but Severus wouldn't risk any setback to his son's health if his blood counts weren't high enough. Harry's ANC count needed to stay above five hundred for one more day for Severus to feel safe taking Harry outside the controlled environment he had created in his quarters.

"Harry." Severus knocked on Harry's door.

"Go away!"

"I'm coming in." He counted to ten before opening the door.

The bathroom light caught Severus' attention. He crossed the room, anxiety growing in his chest. Harry shouldn't be vomiting from the chemo still.

Severus scanned the bathroom until he saw Harry sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his shoulder slumped and his head tilted forward. Harry's left hand was clenched in a fist.

"What's wrong?" Severus knelt in front of his child. His eyes took inventory of Harry's current condition. No blood and no sign that anything was physically wrong.

Harry opened his fist to reveal a clump of black hair. "I got up after lying down and I brushed my hair and the next thing I knew there was a ton of hair stuck in the brush, and so then I...I used my hand to try to smooth it down and it fell out. I didn't pull at it, but it fell out anyway. I didn't mean to do it and I thought maybe it was a fluke so I tried again and even more fell out. I-"

"Shh." He took the hair from Harry's hand and banished it with a flick of his wand. Severus reached out to squeeze his child's knee, but Harry all but fell against him, sharp bony arms wrapping around Severus' neck while a pair of glasses were pressed against his shoulder.

"What if I have a funny shaped head, or my hair never grows back?" Harry whispered.

"It'll grow back, and no one will notice if your head is not perfectly shaped." Severus' fingers glided down Harry's spine, vertebrae poking out from behind a thin layer of skin and muscle. "I'll shave my head if you'd like. No one will pay attention to your lack of hair if they are too busy discussing the greasy git's missing locks."

Harry chuckled. "You really would?"

Severus nodded.

Harry's chuckles escalated to full-out laughter as he pulled away. "You...without hair...that's wrong."

"Are you saying you'd rather not have me shave my head?" Severus flipped his hair in a perfect imitation of many of Harry's female classmates. "Is my hair that infamous?"

"Stop!" Harry choked out between laughs.

Severus flipped his hair again. His legs were falling asleep under him, but as long as Harry laughed, Severus didn't care.

"Don't!" Harry wrapped an arm around his ribs.

The Potions Master smiled. His child sounded happy, if only for a minute.

"Okay." The smile on Harry's face morphed into a forced grin of determination.

"Pardon?"

"Is there a spell for it, or should I find the scissors?"

"You want me to shave my head?" Severus set his hand on Harry's shoulder in confusion.

Harry shook his head. "I think I should shave my head and get it over with before more falls out and I start getting bald spots and I'm reminded every time I touch my head that it's falling out, so is there a spell or where is a pair of scissors?"

"Are you sure you want to do this right now?"

"Yes."

"I'll get the clipper." Severus grabbed onto the edge of the tub and stood, the popping of his knees echoing off the walls.

Severus retrieved the Muggle looking clipper Miss Adamson had left for him from the locked cabinet where Harry's medications were kept in the dining nook. On the way back into Harry's bathroom, he grabbed a towel from the wardrobe and summoned an empty phial.

Harry stared into the mirror, his fingers holding back his fringe. The infamous lightning bolt scar stood out against Harry's ghostly complexion. The scar was reddish-pink and looked irritated.

"Do you have a headache?" Severus set down the clipper and titled Harry's head towards him to look at the scar.

"A little, but I can't remember the last time I didn't have one." Harry shrugged.

"We need to continue your Occlumency lessons."

"There's no spell that can conceal my scar, is there?"

"No, but there's hats in your wardrobe." Severus wrapped the towel around Harry's shoulders. "Have you used a Muggle clipper before?"

"Aunt Petunia used one to cut my hair. Like this, right?" Harry picked up the clipper and moved it above his hair from the front of his hairline to the back.

"Exactly like that. You can't mess up." Severus stepped to the side so Harry wouldn't see his reflection in the mirror standing behind him.

"I just turn it on?" Harry turned to him.

Severus nodded.

"Right." Harry took a deep breath. "I'll turn the clipper on and shave my head." He hit the on button before holding the device up to his hairline and froze.

Severus stepped behind Harry and took the clipper out of his child's hand. "Would you like me to do it for you, Harry?"

His son nodded.

He turned the device off prior to snatching a cotton ball and transfiguring it into a stool. "Do you want to watch?"

"No."

Severus pushed the stool into the middle of the room, away from the mirror's reflection. "Sit."

Harry climbed onto the stool, his foot tapping against the leg and his nails digging into the edge of the seat.

"Your mother shaved her head one summer." Severus picked up the clipper.

"She did?" Harry chewed on his lip.

"Stop that." Severus waited for Harry to stop chewing his lip. The child was one of the most fidgety students he had ever taught at Hogwarts.

"Sorry."

"Lily knew a young boy, Jesse, that had cancer. She shaved her head when his hair fell out so he wasn't the only one." Severus purposefully left out that Jesse was Lily's baby brother. Harry didn't need to know his uncle died from the same cancer Harry had. Severus didn't want to put any doubts in Harry's head that he would not survive.

"Would Mum have done the same for me?"

"She would've done it the moment you started chemo." Severus remembered watching Lily stand in front of the mirror and use her father's clipper to shave off her long red hair. She hadn't told her parents she was going to do it.

"Your grandmother was so surprised she dropped the pie she was taking out of the oven." Severus brought the clipper up to his son's fringe.

"Were they mad?"

"Of course not. That night your grandparents and I followed Lily's lead." Severus shaved the first strip of Harry's hair. The black locks floated to the ground, revealing a white scalp.

"You shaved your head, too?" Harry stopped tapping the leg of the stool.

"Lily shaved it for me." He paused with the clipper at Harry's neck at the irony. Like Harry, Severus couldn't bring himself to shave his head.

"Did either of you have funny shaped heads?"

"No."

"That's good for me, right? I mean head shape has to be somewhat genetic." Harry gulped.

"Harry, I'm more than half-way done, and your head is perfectly round." Severus squeezed his child's shoulder.

"Right. Can you tell me more about Mum?"

"What do you want to know?"

"What was her favorite color?"

"Purple." Severus gently guided the clipper over the spot where Harry bumped his head against the chair. The area had a slight yellowish hue to it that would fade in a day or two. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue. Everyone always assumes that it's red because I'm a Gryffindor. Is there some custom in the wizarding world that I don't know about that your favorite color must be one of your house colors?" Harry sighed.

"No. Otherwise I'd be violating that custom as well. Indigo is my choice of color."

"Indigo?" Harry's eyebrows scrunched up in a mix of disbelief and confusion.

"The color found between blue and violet on the color spectrum."

"I know that, but why indigo?" A clump of hair tumbled down and stuck to Harry's back.

"It's technically precise. Unlike blue where an object can be teal, cyan, or navy to name a few, an object is either indigo or it is not." Severus ran his free hand through the remaining strands of his child's soft hair one last time to fluff it up to make it easier with the clipper, or at least that's what he told himself. Hair fell out in his hand and Severus slipped the strands into an empty phial before sending the phial to his room with a flick of his wrist for safekeeping.

"Severus?" Anxiety reentered Harry's voice.

He shaved the last strip of hair off his child's head. "I'm finished," Severus whispered, pulling the towel off from Harry's shoulders. 

Severus watched Harry walk over to the mirror. The child took a step backward in surprise. Harry raised his hand, his fingers millimeters away from touching his scalp. One finger lowered and Harry jumped as he flung his hand down to his side.

"I look sick." Harry turned around and leaned against the counter.

"You look like the same Harry to me." Severus stepped up beside his son and took his hand.

"No, I don't."

"You do." Severus studied his son. Harry's face had taken on a rounded shape from the steroids and his skin was pale and thin, but the child was still Harry with his small perfectly shaped nose and bright eyes that somehow refused to dull despite the tragedies they had seen.

Severus conjured a handheld mirror and held it up in front of Harry. "Look, there's a little discoloration from when you bumped your head earlier, but otherwise your head is perfectly round and normal."

"I don't want to look." Harry slid down the cabinet to the floor.

Severus set the mirror on the counter and sat down beside his son. Harry leaned into Severus' side, exposing a dark spot above his left ear that Severus had failed to notice before.

"It seems that luck has always been with you." Severus traced the mark with his finger.

Harry batted Severus' hand away. "What?"

"You have a birthmark above your left ear that resembles a four-leaf clover."

Harry pulled the hood of his hoodie up. "Stop looking at my head." 

Severus sighed and banished the clippings to the fireplace before casting an extra cleansing and sanitizing charm. The bathroom was charmed to clean and sanitize itself after a person left the room, but he couldn't be too careful.

He twisted and grabbed the counter with the intention to get up off the floor until a tug on his sleeve stopped him.

"Stay."

Severus returned to the hard stone floor and wrapped his arm around Harry's back.

"Alright."

*~AIE~*

Harry counted three hundred and sixty-three and a half stones on the ceiling of the sitting room. He lay on the plush area rug close to the fireplace, soaking up its warmth. Flurry was curled up by his side.

His head felt beyond strange. The hood rubbed against his head every time he moved, and not in a way he had ever experienced. Harry could feel the fabric covering every inch of his scalp. He reached up and pulled the hood further down his forehead, jumping as the fabric slid over his head.

Footsteps echoed through the stone floor, the light steps coming closer until black boots straddled his outstretched left arm. Harry looked up to see Severus peering down at him with an espresso colored leather bag flung over his shoulder and a cloak draped over his arm.

"Get up."

"Where are you going?" Harry sat up, his hand catching his hood before it could fall off.

"We're going out." Severus held his free hand out.

Harry grabbed Severus' hand and was pulled to his feet. Dizziness exploded before his eyes, and he tightened his grip on Severus' hand and arm. 

"Okay?" Severus gripped Harry's shoulder with his other hand.

"I'm fine." Harry blinked, the dizziness passing. "I thought I wasn't allowed outside?"

"Sporadic exposure to the outdoors is acceptable as long as you don't roll in the grass or feel the need to eat dirt." Severus handed the cloak to Harry.

"Really? Where are we going?"

"The staff gardens." Harry's new trainers came flying into the room and fell to the floor in front of the ottoman. "Put those on."

A sloppy smile spread on Harry's face as he stumbled over to the ottoman and pulled his shoes on.

"Hold out your hands." Severus unscrewed a large jar.

Harry held out his hands while he watched Severus scoop out a dollop of white cream and deposit it in Harry's hand.

"Rub that into your hands and arms up to your elbows. It's sunscreen, and before you protest, your treatments and medications make your skin extremely susceptible to the sun. Every time you go outside, you'll need to use sunscreen on any part of your body that isn't covered." Severus scooped out a smaller dollop and started to rub it on Harry's face. "Close your eyes."

Harry was too excited to protest. It had been so long since he had been outside, or really outside of Severus' quarters for anything that wasn't related to his treatments. He didn't even care why they were going to the staff gardens.

"Let's go."

He stood up and followed Severus out to the hall. They had to stop every few flights of steps for Harry to rest, but once Harry stepped out into the staff gardens and the wind blew against his face, the heaviness in his chest and the weakness in his legs were all worth it.

The staff gardens located in a hidden courtyard off the staffroom was not at all what Harry expected. On the far side a small garden was planted with roses, lilies, and sunflowers. Separated by a stone path, another garden on the right contained rare potions ingredients. In front of the gardens, three round tables with chairs were scattered about the stone patio.

"Sit in the shade." Severus nudged Harry towards the table that was closest to the doorway.

Harry plopped into a chair and looked up towards the sky, smelling the fresh summer air. The white fluffy clouds were a lot more interesting to look at than the stones of the sitting room's ceiling. If he squinted his eyes just right, the cloud floating above him took on the appearance of a rabbit.

"Harry."

"Hmm?" Harry asked without looking down.

"Give me fifteen minutes, and then you can stare at the clouds all you'd like."

"Sorry." Harry blushed.

"While Miss Adamson is waiting to start your formal physical therapy until you've recovered more, I got the approval from her this morning to start light exercises with your hands." Severus pulled out yellow putty from a small tub and handed it to Harry.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" Harry rolled the putty in his hand.

"There's specific exercises, but for today smash it, roll it, shape it, whatever you want for fifteen minutes." Severus pulled out his pocket watch and set it beside his book.

"Okay." Harry set the putty on the table and smashed it down.

He hadn't played with putty or clay since primary school art class. While Harry was never the best artist, he enjoyed art class. A dinosaur he had made out of clay had even made it into the school's art fair one year. Or course he never went to the art show to see it displayed there.

Harry pulled off a portion of putty and rolled it into a log before bending one end up at an angle. He rolled a smaller piece into a ball and set it on top of the first piece. A few putty shapes later, Harry had a cat that leaned to the right.

"Is that meant to be Flurry?" Severus set down his quill.

Harry shrugged. "What are you doing?"

"Lesson plans." Severus slammed Defensive Magical Theory shut. "Did you learn anything at all this year in Defense?"

"No. Has Dumbledore hired the new Defense professor yet?" Harry picked up the leftover putty and poked indentions in it with his fingers.

"I believe he's waiting for more applicants, but whomever is hired cannot be worse than Umbridge." Severus glanced at the pocket watch. "Your time was up ten minutes ago. Are your hands sore?"

"A little." Harry smashed the putty cat and stuffed it all into the container. He felt a cleaning spell wash over his hands.

Severus set a canning jar filled with diluted cranberry juice in front of Harry after unscrewing the lid along with a package of crackers.

"Were there potions ingredients in here at one point?" Harry eyed the jar with caution. He couldn't stomach the idea of drinking something out of a jar that once held beetle eyes or bat wings, or some other disgusting ingredient.

"Of course not, child." Severus shook his head.

Harry sipped the juice. It felt cool sliding down his throat and his taste buds registered the slight bitterness unlike the nothingness taste of most foods or drinks.  He picked up a cracker, nibbling on it. He was trying to get past his food aversion and crackers should be a safe food.

"What spells did you teach to Dumbledore's Army?"

"We worked on disarming, the Patronus Charm, the basics." Harry broke the cracker in half. "Do you know what spells you're going to teach us?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hope I'll only need a week or two at most to review the spells you were supposed to know by now, but it seems I'll have to squeeze five years worth of spells into as little time as possible. I would not want to be the full-time Defense teacher. It'll be challenging enough to rectify five and six years of inferior instruction to students who somehow managed to get an O on their O.W.L.S."

Harry shifted back in his chair as guilt washed over him. Severus was stressed because of him. If Harry didn't require near constant supervision because of his cancer, Severus wouldn't have had to agree to Dumbledore's proposition.

"I'm sorry." Harry drew his knees up to his chest.

"Harry," Severus sighed. "There is nothing for you to feel sorry or guilty about. I chose to accept this position the Headmaster made up because I wanted to."

"But it's because of me."

"We've talked about this before. You cannot force me to do anything. If I didn't want to be there for your treatments, I could hire a healer to stay with you full time or have your treatments take place inpatient. I want to be here for you." Severus lowered his voice. "Can't you believe me?"

"I'm trying." It went against everything Harry had been told to believe. Adults weren't to be trusted. They never kept their promises, but Severus confused him. The Professor kept his promises and did little things like take him outside when he didn't have to. Harry hoped it wasn't some big Slytherin plot that he couldn't sense. Severus cared for him, he knew that much, but why? Was it because they were father and son and Severus felt obligated to care for him? No, it was beyond that, yet Harry wanted a singular moment to point to when he had become a child to care for and perhaps love in Severus' eyes however unlikely that was.

"Stop trying to rationalize your feelings, child. They're called feelings because they're inherently irrational." Severus transfigured Harry's chair to recline backwards.

"Hey!" Harry grabbed the arms of the chair.

Severus pointed to a cloud. "That one resembles a snitch."

"Which one?" Harry looked up at the clouds.

Severus knelt by Harry side, pointing Harry's finger at a cloud to their left. "That one."

Harry titled his head to examine the cloud. "That's not a snitch, that's an owl."

"It's a snitch."

"Owl."

"Snitch." 

Harry stood in front of the mirror on the open door of his wardrobe. The person who stared back wasn't him. It couldn't be. He was The-Boy-Who-Lived, not a boy who looked like he belonged in St. Mungo's.  He couldn't help but focus on his head. Without hair, he looked completely different, and there was nothing to distract someone from looking at his scar.

He reached up with a trembling hand to touch his scalp. His fingertips felt the smallest traces of hair poking out through the skin on the top of his head, where an uncontrollable mop of black hair should be. He turned to the right to look at the shamrock shaped birthmark. It was yet another mark he hadn't wished for. Anyway, what good was a four-leaf clover birthmark if he wasn't lucky enough to have parents? Harry sighed. He did have one parent, sort of, maybe. Harry had accepted that Severus wanted be to his father, but Harry wasn't convinced Severus wouldn't abandon him later on when he had the chance. Either that or he'd die like Sirius and everyone else.

"Are you ready?" Severus asked from the doorway.

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to step foot into Grimmauld Place ever again.

"I thought you wanted to go." Severus picked up a maroon beanie and a charcoal newsboy cap from the bed.

"I do, but I don't want to go there." Harry snatched the beanie from Severus' hand and pulled it on his head. "I look stupid. It's summer and I'm wearing long sleeves and a sweater vest."

Harry look down at the outfit Severus had laid out for him. He had on khakis, a black button down shirt, a maroon sweater vest, and brown shoes. The outfit fit him, and he liked the way it looked on him, but not for summer.

"Would you rather wear something else?"

"No," Harry sighed. "Otherwise, I'll freeze, and everyone will see the stupid Hickman through my shirt. I hate this."

"I know, but it's the only proven treatment option for your leukemia." Severus brushed off Harry's shoulders.

"Does everyone know?"

"Yes."

"What about us?" Harry waved his hand between them.

"The only people that know are the Headmaster, Minerva, Poppy, and Miss Adamson. You may tell anyone you wish though I would appreciate it if you warned me before telling Mrs. Weasley." Severus smirked. "I believe the Headmaster is still receiving howlers every day from when he obliviated her."

"Serves him right," Harry mumbled as he turned to look into the mirror again. He pulled the beanie down lower to cover his scar. "You're not going to treat me like you did in school, right? I mean I know you have your reputation to keep up, but-"

"Harry, you needn't worry about that. While I may not tolerate everyone else, I promise not to revert to our previous mutual dislike when it comes to you." Severus set a hand on Harry's back and led him towards the door.

Besides the memorial service, Harry was dreading his friends' reactions to him. He wasn't the same Harry that they remembered from the end of term. Maybe he should tell Severus that he didn't want to go? It wasn't like Severus and Sirius were friends. The Professor would welcome the chance to miss Sirius' memorial.

"Do you have your wand?" Severus buttoned up his outer robes.

"No."

Severus held out his hand. Harry's wand came flying through the room. He snatched the wand out of the air and handed it to Harry. "You should not have to use it, but if something should happen do not hesitate to defend yourself long enough to use the emergency portkey on your bracelet. Do not stay to help anyone. Is that understood?"

"But what if the Death Eaters have you cornered?" Harry hadn't even considered the possibility that there was a chance they wouldn't be safe at Grimmauld Place.

"I cannot concentrate on defending myself if I'm worried for your safety. Should we be separated, I will come as soon as I can." Severus picked up the overstuffed leather bag from the sofa.

"Why are you bringing that?" Harry pointed to the bag.

"It has everything you may need in it."

"Oh, uh right." Harry crossed his arms, unsettled. How long had it taken Severus to prepare to take him to Grimmauld Place?

"Remember what I told you earlier. I don't care if all the Weasley children are allowed into the Order meeting before the memorial service, you are not allowed to attend. What goes on in the meeting doesn't concern you. Your focus is on your health and your schoolwork. War is for adults to fight, not children, and prophecies are rubbish." Severus pulled Harry's cloak around his shoulders and fastened it.

Harry nodded. He still didn't agree with Severus' earlier arguments, but a large part of him was glad to be free of killing Voldemort, at least in Severus' eyes. Harry doubted Dumbledore would ever share Severus' view.

"We may leave Grimmauld Place whenever you wish, and do not hesitate to come to me if you need something. I expect you to tell me if you don't feel good or are in pain."

"I know, and don't eat any uncooked fruits or vegetables and avoid any food platters. Also, if I accept anything from the Weasley twins, I'll regret it until I turn thirty." Harry tried to remember if there was anything else Severus had told him not to do.

"Don't forget that if a cap comes loose or falls off your Hickman, you must tell me immediately-"

"Or else it could get infected and I'll have to have it replaced. I know." Harry shoved his wand into his back pocket. He wasn't sure having his wand on him would do any good. His magic remained erratic, and Harry hoped he wouldn't need to rely on it anytime soon.

"Do you have any idea how valuable that wand is?" Severus ran a hand through his hair with a huff of frustration. "How many times must a professor tell you not to keep your wand in your back pocket especially now that you've successfully cast your first nonverbal spell. Do you want to spend time in St. Mungo's when your wand casts a spell while still in your pocket?"

"Where should I keep it then?" Harry pulled his wand out.

"Do you not have a holster?"

Harry shook his head. It never occurred to him that he should buy one.

"Wait here." Severus strode down the hallway, his robes billowing up behind him.

Harry wondered if Severus' robes billowed that high when he was frustrated with everyone or just Harry. He had missed the Professor's robes. Without them, Severus was a little less intimidating, not that he still wasn't intimidating. The man's aura exuded power. Now, however, the same aura that had once frightened Harry made him feel protected and safe. He was sure no average witch or wizard could duel Severus Snape and live to tell about it.

"Here." Severus handed Harry a worn black leather holster. "I used it while I was still in school. We'll get one made to fit you and your wand, but until then this one should work."

Harry strapped the holster to his left forearm and slid his wand into it. The straps were a little loose though it worked well enough to keep his wand secured. "Thanks."

"Don't lose it," Severus said in a strange tone that Harry couldn't quite figure out.

He pulled down his shirtsleeve, the holster disappearing from sight. Wait. If Severus said he had used the holster while in school then he hadn't been marked yet. Was the holster special to Severus because it used to be strapped to his unblemished forearm?

"Did? Was?" Harry struggled to find the right words. That had to be the reason Severus gave him a holster from his schooldays. Knowing Severus as he did now, Harry knew the man would never give him something to wear that once resided next to his Dark Mark.

"Yes." Severus rubbed his left forearm. "That is all you need to know. The matter is closed."

"Thank you." Severus didn't have to give him the holster to use. Harry felt honored that Severus would trust him with something that meant so much to the Professor, a personal heirloom. Harry swallowed as the significance of his previous thought hit him. He was Severus' biological heir no matter if Harry ever called the man dad or not. 

Severus cleared his throat and produced a Muggle pen from his robes. "Hold on tight."

Stunned, Harry grabbed onto one end of the pen as Severus wrapped an arm around his waist. He heard Severus mumble a word, and then felt the familiar yet hated tug behind his belly button.

*~AIE~*

Severus maintained his hold around Harry's waist when their feet met the library floor of Grimmauld Place. A quick scan around the room revealed to Severus that the Weasleys had been busy cleaning the wretched house and not a person lurked among the numerous bookshelves. Perfect. Harry would have a few minutes to collect himself before being accosted by his friends.

"Alright?" Severus turned to face his son. Harry's grip tightened on Severus' arm, and the little color that he had was gone from his face.

"Dizzy." Harry closed his eyes.

Severus set his free hand on Harry's shoulder to help ground him. He remembered hating portkeying as a child. He always felt nauseous and disoriented for hours afterwards.

Harry groaned. "I hate magical transportation."

"Your tolerance for it will go up as you apparate, floo, and portkey more. My mother carried a phial of anti-nausea potion with her at all times until I was six."

"Great, so after I leave Hogwarts I should be able to apparate without puking." Harry pulled away.

"Are you nauseous?" Severus flipped open his bag and rummaged through the collection of prescription bottles for an anti-emetic. They hadn't worked for Harry's nausea from chemo, but one might work now.

"No, I'm fine." Harry shivered. "I really hate this place."

"That makes two of us."

However, Harry owned the despicable house. Severus hadn't told Harry yet about Black's will. He had the full accounting of Harry's vaults, but he didn't want to stress Harry out anymore than he needed to, and Harry became stressed whenever money was brought up. Severus ought to discuss Harry's finances and assets with him soon, regardless. Harry would be seventeen in a little over a year and would gain access to the main Potter vaults and now Black's. His son needed to know what he was inheriting and guidance in managing his wealth.

"The memorial won't last all day, will it?" Harry looked towards the door.

"No."

"Good."

"Shall we appease the masses by making an appearance before we're discovered?" Severus was surprised someone hadn't heard their arrival yet.

Harry shrugged as if he didn't care, but Severus knew better. "They're your friends," he reminded Harry.

"We'll see if they are or not," Harry snapped. His son's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but Severus caught the flash of fear clouding Harry's emerald irises.

"Harry..." He sat down on the library sofa and patted the space next to him. "Sit."

"It was nothing!" Harry crept along the bookshelf as he slid past the sofa and Severus, much like a scared animal.

"I won't hurt you, child." Severus whispered.

Harry shook his head, his right hand reaching up his sleeve to grip his wand.

"Come sit down," Severus repeated, his voice calm and even.

"No. I didn't do anything wrong!"

Severus took a deep breath. Harry wasn't being insolent on purpose. The child was stressed over his friends' reactions and the memorial. A reminder that Severus had once been a Death Eater hadn't helped to keep Harry calm.

In fact, did Harry even know the common practices of a wizarding memorial service? Severus resisted the urge to hex himself. He should've gone over the traditional wizarding customs with Harry even though he had no idea if Black's memorial would follow them. It was his responsibility to prepare Harry for events like these, and it wouldn't be the last memorial or funeral Harry would attend before the war was over, yet Severus had failed. He was letting his son walk into his godfather's memorial blind.

"Child," Severus stood up slowly, allowing Harry to track his every move. "I wasn't going to yell at you."

"But I snapped at you." Harry wrapped his cloak around himself.

"Have you not snapped at me more times than I can count since you've arrived at Hogwarts?"

"That's different."

"How so?" Severus had expected Harry to run through a gamut of emotions today, but he had thought they were past Harry's fear of what Severus might do to him.

"You weren't my, you know." Harry bit his lip.

"Stop biting your lip." Severus gently scolded as he moved to stand in front of his son, one cautious step at a time. "I'm going to hug you."

Severus never thought he'd ever say those words, but Harry needed to know Severus' movements before he made them. It was a classic sign of abuse that showed Harry had a little more than neglect in his past or at least was threatened with physical abuse.

He held up his arms, watching to make sure Harry followed them before wrapping his arms around Harry. Tight, but not too tight. Harry could escape with a gentle tug if he had to.

"I know you're feeling a lot of different things right now, but I want to make certain that you know I will never hurt you." He wasn't comfortable speaking about emotions, and his words sounded idiotic to him, yet he needed to try for Harry. "It is inevitable that we will argue, and you will snap back. If an argument gets heated I will either leave the room or send you to yours. You may be grounded as a result but any form of punishment will be discussed after we both cool off. Your punishments will never include anything that may physically or emotionally harm you. Is that clear?"

Harry nodded a half-nod that didn't convince Severus that Harry believed him at all.

"If I need to take a vow for you to believe me, I will." Severus rubbed light circles into Harry's back. The child's muscles were tense and ready to react.

"An Unbreakable Vow?" Harry questioned, his voice no louder than a pin drop.

"If that's what it takes for you to believe me."

"I want to believe you, and I try but then it's like something gets triggered in my mind that I can't help." Harry hid his head in Severus' robes as his body relaxed. "It's embarrassing. I'm fifteen, but when these things just happen, it makes me feel like a sniveling first year."

"It's not your fault, Harry. You're fighting against your body's natural reactions that were hammered into your brain by your relatives. It'll take time, and when you're feeling stressed like you are today, those reactions are more likely to surface." Severus tightened his hold around Harry. He'd been avoiding the subject of counseling, but perhaps Harry would benefit more from it than Severus realized. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Harry pulled away, a blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "Can I go?"

Severus nodded. He watched Harry leave the room with a sigh. The child had so many things to deal with. Where would a psychiatrist even start?

A light tapping noise filtered into his ears, and Severus jumped.

"I sent Harry upstairs to visit with his friends. We're waiting for you to start the meeting," Minerva informed him from the doorway.

"Thank you." Severus straightened up to his full height. As Harry mentioned earlier, he did have a reputation to protect.

"Severus," she said with a sigh as she walked fully into the library and shut the door. "You look like you haven't slept in days. Why haven't you asked for help?"

"He's my child. I am perfectly capable of taking care of him." Severus crossed his arms. He didn't need help.

"That's not what I'm implying, and you know it." Minerva shook her finger at him. "This is not the time for stubbornness. Harry needs you at your full strength, and there is nothing wrong or shameful about having someone sit with Harry while you get some sleep. Must I visit you daily until you accept help?"

Severus held his head high even though Minerva's scolding always reduced him to a student all over again. "I will not key my wards against you should you desire tea." That was as close as accepting help as Severus would get. He didn't ask for help or rely on others. Those habits got even the best spies killed.

"How does two sound?" Minerva smirked.

"As acceptable as any time for a Gryffindor to invade my private quarters." Severus glared.

"I believe that has already happened, but I look forward to tea nonetheless." Minerva coughed to cover up her laughter.

Damn! How could he have not foreseen cornering himself with that remark? He must be sleep deprived if a Gryffindor had outwitted him. He turned on his heel, his robes billowing out behind him. "They're waiting for us."

"Go on. Tell Albus I'll be there in a minute." Minerva chuckled.

Severus glared again before he swept from the room, Minerva's laughter trailing behind him.

*~AIE~*

Harry climbed the stairs with a groan. Remus Lupin was sitting on the top stair with a large smile plastered on his face. His former professor was the last person he wanted to run into. Harry was starting to hate how every time he saw Lupin, the werewolf was happy to see him, but he never bothered to write or check up on him to see how he was.

"Harry!" Lupin's eyes lit up.

"Hello, Professor." Harry leaned against the balustrade, out of breath. 

"Let me help you." Lupin sprinted down the stairs and slung his arm around Harry's waist.

A jolt of pain rippled up Harry's back. Lupin's arm had hit a sore spot.

"I don't need help." Harry shoved Lupin's arm away. "Shouldn't you be downstairs for the Order meeting?"

Lupin's face fell as he backed down a step. "I wanted to see how you were. I'm worried about you."

"Why haven't you written or visited if you were so worried?" Harry continued up the staircase.

"I've been meaning to, but I've been going through a bit of a rough time with the loss of Sirius."

"And I haven't?" Harry yelled. "You could've at least been there when I woke up after the Ministry or checked to see how I was after the healers poked me with huge needles or when I was getting chemo pumped into my body."

"Harry, I..." Lupin held up his hands. "I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough!"

"He was my best friend. The war killed them all." Lupin hung his head.

Harry didn't care. Lupin's excuses were that, excuses. The war had killed his parents and his godfather, yet he continued to soldier on, or at least tried to.

"I'll promise to do better, Harry. I really will."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." Harry sat down on the opposite side of the top step of the first floor landing that Lupin had sat on.

"I can ask Dumbledore if you can live here with me like Sirius always wanted. We can arrange for a nurse to come and give you your chemistry potions." Lupin dropped down beside Harry.

"I already have a home!" Harry slid as close to the banister as he could. Lupin's pathetic effort was too little too late.

"You can't be talking about staying with Snape? Harry, Dumbledore placed you there because Snape isn't useful to the Order now that his cover is blown." Lupin grabbed Harry's hand.

"Don't touch me!" Harry snatched his hand away. "You don't know what you're talking about. Severus takes care of me better than anyone else ever has. Ever! For the first time I have clothes that fit me and a room that I can call my own."

"It's Severus now, is it?" Lupin pulled Harry's sleeve up to his nose and sniffed it.

"What are you doing?" Harry tugged his arm free.

"I can smell him on you."

"Of course you can. I live with him." Harry stood up, not liking one bit what Lupin was implying.

"He's your professor, and you're his student. You shouldn't have been allowed to grow close to him."

"Is that so, Professor?" Harry bit back with a smirk.

"I'm not a former Death Eater." Lupin slammed his fist onto the floor.

Harry jumped back, his hands scrambling to grab onto something before he fell down. His fingers wrapped around a doorknob, and he hauled himself to his feet, leaning against the door as a coughing fit seized him.

"Harry?" Lupin's voice flipped from outraged to concerned.

"I'm fine." Harry cradled his ribs with a grimace on his face. "Just leave me alone."

"There you are, Remus," Dumbledore said as he glided towards them from a room down the hall adorned in blinding gold robes that might as well be liquid gold with ruby accents.

"Headmaster," Harry choked out.

"Oh dear. Shall I fetch Severus?" The Headmaster pulled out his wand, alarmed.

"I'm fine. Really." Harry leaned all his weight into the door and closed his eyes. His ribs hurt from the coughing spell, but it was nothing he couldn't live with.

"Are you certain?"

Harry could feel Dumbledore's gaze on him. He didn't dare open his eyes to let Dumbledore slide into his mind. "I'm sure."

"Then I trust you can find your way down the hall to your friends. I've held them off temporarily for you, but I'm afraid if you take too long they may ambush you." Dumbledore's tone and words reminded Harry of when he was younger and believed the Headmaster was a quirky grandfather type that skirted the edge of senility.

"Thank you, sir."

"Remus, I believe we are late, and Molly made the most wonderful strawberry tarts."

"You approve of this?" Harry cracked open his eyes to see Remus waving his hands towards him.

"What I think does not matter." Dumbledore gave Harry a sad smile. "Though if I had to trust anyone with Harry, it would be Severus."

"What? You can't trust a spy!" Lupin pivoted to face him, but the Headmaster set his hand on Lupin's shoulder and started to lead him down the stairs.

"All in good time, my boy."

Harry wanted to slide down the door and process what had just happened, but if he sat down, he wasn't getting up. Beside, Hermione and Ron would run out and accost him the moment he got comfortable. Harry pushed away, keeping his right hand within reach of the wall as he made his way down the hallway to the open door. He couldn't delay their reactions any longer. He wasn't safe in the protection of Severus' quarters, he wasn't home, but if he wanted to really live life he had to stray outside the protective bubble Severus had created. And if he wasn't going to live life what was the point of the chemotherapy?

Severus strode into the noisy dining room. Several copies of The Daily Prophet in addition to handwritten reports lay scattered on the table. On the far wall a large map of the British Isles was affixed with different colored markers beside a chalkboard. The room that had once held fancy dinner parties had transformed into a war room.

Sweeping past Tonks, Shacklebolt, and the Weasley twins, Severus pulled out the chair at the head of the table on the far end of the room. The chair scraped against the floor and the room fell silent. Everyone turned towards him, curiosity written across their faces.

He sat down with his hands folded on his lap. "Yes?" Severus raised his eyebrow. They were waiting to hear how Harry was doing, but Severus refused to comment if someone hadn't the courage to ask. Beside, the entire Order didn't need to know the details of Harry's current condition. The fact that he was even here with Harry should tell the Order members that Harry was in good enough health, which was all they needed to know. Harry was no longer part of whatever war plan the Headmaster may have had for him, and therefore, the details of Harry's life were not essential knowledge to the Order. His child deserved a modicum of privacy, and Severus was determined to give Harry as much as he could.

Mrs. Weasley hurried through the door with two plates of biscuits and coffee and tea trays levitating behind her. She arranged the refreshments on the table before she jumped in surprise from spotting Severus. "Oh hello, Severus."

"Molly." Severus dipped his head towards her in greeting.

"Is Harry upstairs already?" Chairs and floorboards creaked as the members of the Order shifted closer to him.

"Yes."

"How is he?" Shacklebolt asked.

"As well as can be expected." Severus poured himself a cup of coffee, ignoring the uncomfortable silence. He took a sip, savoring the strong taste. Molly Weasley always brewed the perfect pot of coffee even though she never drank it.

"Is that so? I caught a glimpse of Potter and at first I didn't recognize him." Mad-Eye plopped into a chair.

"His treatments are harsh, but I assure you Harry is responding exactly how he should be." Snape injected a venomous undertone into his voice. "Shouldn't we be discussing the war rather than one child's health, or are we too dependent on a prophecy?"

"Severus, my boy, you never once gave Divination a chance. I am surprised that after all this time you have not questioned if it is fate we live by or free will." Dumbledore led the wolf into the room.

"We make our own choices."

"Yes, of course," the Headmaster said in his best placating tone. "If we are all here, will everyone please be seated."

"Minerva said she'd be along shortly. She's in the library." Severus pulled out a sheet of parchment from his bag that contained notes he had taken from reported Death Eater activity. Despite holing up in his quarters to minimize the risk of infection for Harry, Severus scanned the major wizarding press and The Times daily to watch for patterns or suspicious activity.

"Fred, if you would, please?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, sir." Fred stood up and left the room to retrieve Minerva.

"What kind of tricks are you playing with Harry?" Lupin growled at Severus.

"Tricks?" Severus asked in his best monotonous tone. Lupin would not get the best of him today.

"Your scent is on his clothes!" The wolf jumped up from his seat next to Dumbledore. "And he has somehow fallen for your delusions. Harry defended you of all people like you haven't bullied him for the past five years. Albus, you need to check his wand. He has to have Harry under the Imperius curse."

"Did you speak with him?" Severus sat forward on the edge of his seat. Lupin had better not upset his child. None of the monitoring alarms Severus had placed on Harry secretly before they left had gone off, but those were limited to Harry's physical health.

"That is enough, Remus!" Dumbledore pulled Lupin down into the chair. "I can assure everyone that nothing inappropriate is happening between Severus and Harry."

"Pardon me." Severus stood up. His stomach twisted in knots with anxiety. He needed to lay eyes on his son, to ensure Lupin hadn't caused any damage.

"Severus, sit." Dumbledore locked eyes with him and pushed an image of Harry saying he was fine and didn't need Severus into his mind.

He broke eye contact before sitting. "As you wish."

Minerva and Fred took their seats while the Headmaster secured the door with anti-eavesdropping charms.

"Now that we are all here, early this morning a small group of Death Eaters were spotted close to the Dursley residence by Arabella Figg. Tonks and Arthur apparated to Surrey to check on the protective wards on Number 4 Privet Drive. Arthur, your report, please." Dumbledore opened the meeting without any pomp and circumstance.

Severus' interest grew. It was different being the one to wait for reports instead of giving them. He didn't know if he liked the semi-helpless feeling or not, but there was nothing he could do. His cover as a spy had been blown and even if it hadn't Severus couldn't spy and take care of Harry, his first priority.

"After arriving in Surrey, Tonks and I found that Death Eaters had penetrated the wards," Arthur began. "We tested the wards and found that they are significantly weakened as a result of Harry not returning there for the summer. The magical signatures on the wards confirmed that Arabella's account that she had spotted three Death Eaters was correct. The signatures were from low to mid level wizards, which lead us to believe the Dark Lord sent two possible underage recruits along with a more seasoned Death Eater as some sort of test. It's possible two of them were Hogwarts students."

Bile rose into Severus' throat. He was almost positive one of them was Draco Malfoy and while he couldn't deny the boy was an outright prat most of the time, Severus had invested a great deal of time over the past year to swaying Draco to turn away from the path his father expected of him as a favor to Narcissa. When Severus had arrived as a first year at Hogwarts, he had been a pariah among the Slytherins due to his supposedly impoverished family and lack of social skills. However, Narcissa had taken her job as a prefect seriously and had shown nothing but kindness towards him even when the other Slytherins had hidden his belongings or stolen his homework. Besides Lily, Narcissa had made his first year at Hogwarts tolerable.

"Is Lucius still in Azkaban?" Severus asked.

"Yes, I checked the prisoner list before I left the Ministry." Shacklebolt confirmed.

Severus nodded his head. "One of the wizards was Draco Malfoy. The Dark Lord will be furious with Lucius' failed attempt to retrieve the prophecy and will task Draco with the chance to earn the Dark Lord's favor and Lucius' freedom."

"Are you sure you don't know this?" Moody glared at him. Moody had never trusted him and never would. The man was so paranoid it would likely get him killed one day.

"Must I submit my wand for examination?" Severus held out his wand, handle first. He didn't have anything to hide, and if it would get the Order from turning every subject back to him then the sooner the meeting and memorial were over and Severus could return Harry to the safety of their quarters.

"That won't be necessary." Dumbledore walked over to the chalkboard. "If one of them were Draco Malfoy it could certainly complicate matters. Hogwarts has no reason to deny the boy his education. Severus, has Draco turned to you?"

"There were indications towards the end of the school year Draco didn't wish to be marked, but he never outright said so. There is a possibility that under Narcissa's sole influence, Draco may think twice before joining the Dark Lord." Severus crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

"Narcissa Malfoy?" One of the Weasley twins' eyes bugged out.

"But she's Malfoy's wife-" The other one said.

"Isn't she a Death Eater?" They finished together.

"No. She has never taken the mark." Severus looked towards the door. He had never understood why Narcissa tried to shelter Draco as much as possible until Harry wove his way into Severus' heart.

Severus hoped Harry's friends were reacting well. He wanted to insist Harry didn't need to see his friends, but he also understood that Harry's friends were important to his child. Severus wished he could spare Harry the anxiety and thoughtless comments his friends were sure to make. Harry was strong though like his mother, sometimes too strong. The mix of Lily's strength and Severus' stubbornness was a recipe for disaster. Severus continued to keep a close watch over Harry's emotional state to try to prevent Harry from pushing himself too far. A full-scale breakdown was looming below the surface. The question remained what would trigger it and when. Severus didn't think it would happen today, but Harry might come close.

"We shall keep a close watch on Draco Malfoy," the Headmaster said, jolting Severus away from his thoughts. "I'm afraid that's all we can do unless Mr. Malfoy seeks protection on his own. We do not have the resources to do anything else."

Severus felt over half of the Order's eyes on him. The Order had lost the valuable information he had provided as a spy. He couldn't have prevented it. Harry and his friends had rushed off to the Ministry too quickly. By the time Severus had gotten word to the Order and Dumbledore, the children had been gone too long. Severus had kept to the shadows, remaining undiscovered until the Dark Lord had possessed Harry. Despite the animosity between them at the time, Severus couldn't sit back and allow the Dark Lord to rape the child's mind and being in the worst way possible. He had helped Harry break the connection before grabbing the child and flooing back to Hogwarts while Dumbledore held off the Dark Lord.

"Have the Dursleys been relocated?" Severus asked. Harry would never forgive himself if those despicable relatives of his were killed because of him.

"Bill and Charlie are aiding their move to a safe house as we speak." The Headmaster started writing locations of the latest activity on the chalkboard.

Severus looked to his notes. There wasn't enough Death Eater activity for any patterns to emerge. The Dark Lord had been rather quiet since the incident at the Ministry, and a quiet Dark Lord was a dangerous one.

*~AIE~*

Harry slid into the room at the end of the hall that he and Ron had shared the previous summer. So much had changed since then that Harry didn't feel like the same person. Somehow, he felt more grown up and more childish at the same time. Anxiety filled his stomach with butterflies. He hadn't experienced this much apprehension around his friends since the first time he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Ron stood in front of a mirror while Hermione tied Ron's tie. Ginny lay sprawled on the bed closest to the door, reading Witch Weekly. They all seemed normal doing everyday things, and Harry's life had been anything but normal his whole life, but especially since the events at the Ministry. Harry hoped the Chudley Cannons had finally won a game or a new edition of Hogwarts: A History had been released because he had no idea what to talk to his friends about.

"Hi," Harry said in a voice that wasn't quite a whisper.

"Harry!" Hermione turned and rushed towards him to stop a few feet in front of him. Her arms twitched at her side, wanting to hug him though she restrained herself.

"Hey, mate." Ron waved.

"Hi Harry." Ginny hugged him, her arm hitting his lower back right where Lupin had.

Harry yelped and pushed her away, suppressing the wave of pain that traveled through his body as he latched onto a dresser for balance. What was with people feeling the need to touch him?

Ginny yanked her arms behind her back. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." Harry's free hand rubbed his back.

"I'm sorry." Ginny set her hand on his back.

Harry pushed her hand away. "Don't."

"But I can help." Ginny's eyes were hopeful.

"You can help by not touching me." Harry was tired of people touching him and thinking they were helping when it caused him more pain.

"I'm sorry." Ginny burst into tears and ran through the doorway.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. He hadn't meant to hurt Ginny's feelings, but his words must've come out harsher than he thought.

"Why don't you sit down?" Hermione pulled out the desk chair.

Harry nodded, stumbling across the room. His back was starting to ache, and the rest of his body would soon follow. "Thanks."

"Do you need me to get Snape?" Ron asked.

"No, I'm fine." Harry fought through the pain. He didn't want any more pain meds. He didn't deserve to feel numb during Sirius' memorial.

"Right." Ron returned to looking in the mirror, comb in hand. His fringe was in his face. "What do you think looks more appropriate, Harry? This way?" Ron pushed his fringe back.

Hermione slugged Ron in his shoulder.

"Ow! What did I do?"

Hermione tilted her head towards him.

Harry pulled his beanie down lower. He knew it was obvious he had shaved his head, but that didn't mean everyone had to make a big deal of it. Couldn't everyone ignore it? It wasn't like Harry wanted to do it. Well, he did if you counted the alternative was to watch his hair fall out in clumps.

"I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry." Ron set the comb down and leaned against the desk.

"It's okay," Harry said even though it wasn't. Ron had tried, Harry had to give him that. "Um, have you finished your summer homework yet?"

"I finished the first week of vacation. Ron hasn't even started." Hermione glared at Ron.

"I've got Transfiguration and Herbology done. Severus said he's going to change my Potions assignment or work it into my curriculum for term." Harry bit his lip.

"Blimey! Snape is altering an assignment for you?" Ron's voice was filled with disbelief.

"Yeah. He's different now." Although Harry wasn't ready to tell them Severus was his father yet that didn't mean he couldn't try to get Hermione and Ron to understand how Snape had turned into Severus to him.

"That's wonderful, Harry." Hermione smiled. "Did he take you shopping for clothes? I haven't seen you wear that before."

"Once before term ended. Severus picked this up on his last trip to London." Harry blushed. His clothes were the last thing he thought his friends would notice.

"They look good. The Professor did an excellent job."

"Don't you have enough left in your vault?" Ron asked, jealousy creeping into his voice. "It sounds likes he's spent an awful lot on you."

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded.

"He has, but he wants to Ron, and before you ask, yes he can afford it. He wants me to save my money until I'm done with school." Harry had grown somewhat comfortable with Severus paying for everything. It was normal for a parent to pay for their child's needs and since Severus was father, Harry reasoned it was okay.

"But you have all that gold in your vault. Aren't you a bit greedy making him pay for you?" Ron pushed further.

Harry sighed. Ron would never understand because his jealousy always surfaced whenever anything related to money came up. "It's complicated. Can we talk about something else?"

"Are you in remission yet?" Hermione studied him, probably looking for physical signs of his chemo treatments.

Harry shrugged. "I completed week one of induction whatever that means. No chemo this week."

"I read induction was horrible. Does your body handle the chemo well?" Hermione reminded Harry of someone conducting an interview for a research project. She wouldn't let up until she had her answers.

"Not at all. The morphine helps a lot though." Harry's left forearm started to itch under the wand holster. He rolled up his sleeve and itched underneath the leather holster.

"Morphine? Is that some Muggle potion?" Ron's forehead scrunched up in confusion.

"It's a very powerful pain medication derived from the poppy plant, Ron," Hermione told Ron before turning back to Harry. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Sometimes it's worse than you can image. My nerves are all screwed up because the chemo exacerbated the residual damage from the Cruciatus or something like that, too, meaning my hands shake and I can't control it." Harry's hand flew up to cover his mouth. He hadn't realized what he was admitting until he had said it. He'd been too distracted by his itchy skin.

"Bloody hell!" Ron's face paled.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione moved closer, her eyes pooling with tears. "I want to hug you, but I don't want to hurt you."

"Don't squeeze hard." Harry braced his body, waiting for Hermione to throw herself at him like she was known to do. Instead, Hermione stepped closer and gently wrapped one arm around his back and cupped the back of his neck with the other. His Hickman brushed against Hermione and Harry resisted the urge to pull away as he felt Hermione's tears drop onto his shirt.

"Is this okay?" she choked out.

Harry nodded.

"I'm so sorry. If you need anything you know you can ask us." Hermione hid her face in his shoulder.

"Yeah, mate. I'm sorry for being such a prat. We're always here for you." Ron stood off to the side, shifting from one foot to the other.

Hermione reached out and pulled Ron over into a group hug like they were eleven all over again.

Loud sobs filled the room, none of which were Harry's.

"Ron, are you crying?" Hermione pulled away enough to look at Ron.

"No," Ron denied despite his red eyes and tear trails running down his cheeks.

Harry stared at the wall, numb. He got that Hermione and Ron needed to touch him for them to believe he was okay, but it made him feel detached from his body, like it wasn't his but public property. He crawled inside his mind, pretending he was curled up on the rug, watching the flames dance in the fireplace while Severus sat on the sofa, his father's wards keeping everyone away from the safety and security of their home.

*~AIE~*

Severus surveyed the platters of food Molly had prepared for the lunch they'd eat before the memorial service. Most of the offerings were heavy like different meats that Harry would have no chance of keeping down.

"Molly, do you mind if Harry and I eat in the library?" Severus asked.

"Oh, not at all. Will Harry eat what I made? There's some eggs left, otherwise. I could scramble some up for him." Molly handed him a large stack of plates.

Severus set the plates on the counter next to the glasses and silverware that had already been pulled out.

"That won't be necessary, but thank you." Severus levitated two plates from the stack. He scooped out a small amount of tomato soup in a bowl and set it on Harry's plate beside a roll, crackers, two slices of cheese, and a chocolate chip biscuit.

"Is that all he's going to eat?" Molly looked alarmed.

"Yes." Actually, Severus would be lucky if Harry ate half of what was on his plate.

"But he's a growing boy. Are you sure you don't want me to make something else for him?" Molly opened and closed the cabinets, looking for something to cook.

"I assure you he's getting enough calories just not in the traditional way." Severus filled his plate with salad, no dressing, two rolls, a bowl of soup, and a slice of chocolate cake, nothing that had a strong aroma.

"At least take this with you." Molly grabbed an ice lolly from the freezer cabinet. "Kids love them."

"Thank you." Severus placed a cooling charm over the ice lolly before climbing the stairs to the library with a tray of their plates and drinks floating behind him.

Severus deposited the tray on the library table. He pushed the books and parchment to one side and set the table with their plates, glasses, and silverware. If Harry continued to eat at a table, the repeated routine might help stimulate his child's appetite akin to Pavlov's system of classical conditioning.

Harry hobbled his way into the library, making his way straight to the sofa without bothering to so much as look at Severus. He watched Harry yank the wand holster off his forearm and set it on the side table before lying down and using his cloak as a blanket, his right hand absently scratching at his left forearm.

Severus locked and warded the door against eavesdroppers. Harry needed a break from the Order and his friends. Kneeling in front of the sofa, Severus cast a spell to check Harry's temperature. It was normal, but he felt his child's forehead anyway to double check.

"Do you want to go home?" Severus summoned his bag, pulling out the silver blanket and spreading it out over his son.

Harry shook his head, his fingers continuing to itch his arm.

"What's wrong with your arm?" He nudged Harry's hand away. The skin was pink from where Harry had been scratching it though there were no signs of a rash or abnormal skin discoloration.

"Nothing." Harry tried to pull his arm away. Severus tightened his grip.

"It's certainly not nothing, child. Does your skin itch all over or only this spot?" Severus sighed. Harry was shutting him out. The child would never grieve if he turned the switch off on his emotions and created a wall between himself and reality.

"It's just an itch," Harry said, his timbre small and defensive. 

Severus retrieved a flannel from his bag. "Aguamenti." He aimed his wand at the small square of white fabric. Once the flannel was wet Severus cast a mild cooling charm on it prior to laying it on Harry's forearm.

Harry didn't say anything, but his face relaxed.

"You need to take your meds." Severus fished out a small jar that contained Harry's lunchtime pills.

"I don't want to." Harry twisted away, rolling on his side to face the back of the sofa.

"C'mon." Severus tapped his son on the shoulder. "Take them, and I won't make you eat lunch."

"No." Harry covered his head with the blanket.

"This is not optional." Severus pulled the blanket down to his child's waist.

Harry whined. 

Severus rubbed Harry's back. He worked his way down the sides of his son's spine, the pressure behind his fingers lessening as he moved down each vertebra. Still when Severus hit a sore spot, Harry curled further into the fetal position. He felt Harry shudder under his hands, and Severus wondered why the child hadn't come to him for another dose of morphine.

It had been clear Harry was in pain from the moment he half-limped into the library, but Severus thought it was from the pain meds wearing off, not from Harry experiencing breakthrough pain.

"Sit up and take your meds. Otherwise we're going home," Severus said, his voice firm. Harry's refusal was ridiculous. The morphine that was included in his child's batch of pills would take the pain down to at the very least a manageable level. Didn't Harry want the pain to go away?

Harry sat up and held out his hand for the pills.

"Do you want water?"

The child glared at Severus and snatched the jar of pills instead. Harry dumped the pills into his hand, returning the small purple pills marked with an M to the jar. He swallowed the rest of the pills and lay back down.

"Harry," Severus sighed.

"Leave me alone."

"Why didn't you take the morphine?"

"I don't have to take it," Harry whispered.

"But you're in pain." Severus tried to reason with his child.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He held out the pills in front of Harry's face. "Take them."

Harry shoved his arm away. "Go away."

Counting to ten, Severus pushed up off the floor and walked over to the library table. He would eat and wait for Harry to fall asleep. Then, he'd push a dose of morphine through a lumen in Harry's Hickman. He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.

*~AIE~*

Harry woke to cold, gloved hands on his stomach. He tried to twist away, stopping when he felt a slight tug on his Hickman.

"Stay still." Severus lightly pinned him on his back.

"What are you doing?" Harry eyed the syringe Severus held in one hand. Besides the TPN, he wasn't getting any intravenous drugs this week and Miss Adamson had flushed all three lumens of his Hickman when she collected a blood sample that morning.

"I'm flushing your line." 

Harry struggled to sit up as pain rippled throughout his body. He took a sharp intake of breath, air catching in his throat. Harry coughed. He felt strong arms pull him up to sit with his torso angled forward.

"Calm down." One of Severus' arms supported his ribcage while the other massaged small circles into his back.

He closed his eyes as the fit ceased. His head pounded. "I told you I don't want anymore morphine," Harry whispered. Anything louder and his headache would escalate.

"Don't you want the pain to go away?" Severus sat down beside him and cradled his upper body.

Harry whimpered. He didn't deserve the man's comfort today. They were at Sirius' memorial. If Harry had mastered Occlumency or stayed at Hogwarts, they wouldn't be here. Sirius wouldn't be dead. He got Sirius killed, and he should welcome the pain as a reminder of his actions.

"Help me understand, child," Severus whispered.

"There's nothing to understand."

"Did something happen with Lupin or your friends?"

"I'm fine." Harry untangled himself and leaned against the sofa's arm, his knees pulled up to his chest.

"Why do you insist you're fine when you're not?" Severus ran a hand through his hair.

Harry shrugged. He wasn't about to admit his reasons to Severus. The man would tell him that Harry wasn't responsible for Sirius' death, that he was stupid for wanting to feel pain. It didn't matter what Severus would say. Harry knew the truth. Sirius died because of him just like his parents and everyone else who would die protecting The-Boy-Who-Lived before the war was over.

"Are you afraid of being drugged up around your friends?"

"No." Well maybe, but that wasn't his reason.

"You can't attend the memorial service like this." Severus started pacing.

"Why not?" What did his comfort level have anything to do if he could sit in a room while people talked about his godfather? At least that's what Harry assumed would happen. He had never attended a wizarding memorial or funeral outside of the few words Dumbledore said about Cedric after the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year.

Severus spun around to face him. "Because you can't move without flinching."

"Yes, I can!"

"Then prove it!" Snape raised his voice.

Harry felt a sense of déjà vu. Snape had uttered those exact words in that tone to him during Occlumency lessons. Severus had promised he wouldn't revert back to his Snapeish ways around him. Betrayal stabbed through his heart.

Harry marched towards the door, refusing to let a flinch or grimace cross his face.

"Harry, your shirt." Snape stopped him.

He looked down at his unbuttoned shirt. A lumen of his Hickman was hanging past his hip. Harry stomped back to the sofa. "No morphine."

"I'm sorry. It was never my intention to raise my voice." The Professor squeezed his hands.

"You lied." Harry shifted his gaze to the corner.

"I don't like seeing you in pain, child."

"It doesn't hurt that much." He could live with the pain as long as he stayed still. Moving hurt worse.

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe." Snape sighed. "Will you take one pill instead of two?"

Harry shook his head.

"And I suppose if I drag you home against your will you'll find your own way back for the memorial." Severus paced. "Do you know how impossible you are sometimes?"

Harry followed Severus with his eyes as the man walked from one side of the library to the other.

"I don't know why I'm indulging whatever misguided notions you're having. You're going to regret it later when the pain escalates all because you refuse to take two little pills. If I allow you to go to the memorial without the morphine, you will take it once we get home. No arguments. Deal?"

Harry nodded. That's all he wanted.

Harry tugged at the sleeves of his shirt as he walked into the large sitting room where sofas, loveseats, and chairs were arranged in rows facing a table with pictures of Sirius sitting on top of it, the smallest one catching Harry's eye. Sirius looked younger than Harry had ever seen him. He was making funny faces at a small figure seated on a blanket on the floor. The baby with messy black hair giggled and crawled towards Sirius until the wizard scooped the baby up in his arms. Harry stopped mid-step.

"Are you sure you want to stay?" Severus whispered from behind as he squeezed Harry's shoulder.

Harry nodded, his gaze never leaving the picture. He shrugged off Severus' hand and sat down in the nearest chair.

Sirius and his younger self were happy. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world save for making it to Sirius' boots, and Sirius looked so worry-free. His godfather's hair was cut short and his face was free from any wrinkles or worry lines, but most important of all Sirius didn't have the dark cloud hanging over his head from his years in Azkaban.

"Harry, come sit up front with me." McGonagall gave him a sad smile.

He looked around the room. Order members were filing in and finding seats yet no one approached him or looked at him. In fact, the adults were so busy avoiding looking his way that it was beyond obvious and made Harry feel more uncomfortable than he already was.

"You can see the pictures better from there." She held out her hand.

Harry nodded, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and ushered to the loveseat in the front row. Hermione patted a spot between her and Ron on the loveseat with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I'm sorry there isn't enough room for you in the front row. Perhaps you could sit behind Mr. Potter?" McGonagall waved her hand to two empty chairs behind the loveseat.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, and Ron elbowed her in her ribs. "C'mon, Hermione. We can play Exploding Snap with Harry after this is over. Right, mate?"

"Yeah," Harry lied. The only place he was going after the memorial was home. Severus had made that clear. "Or next time."

"You better practice then. We've been playing loads." Ron stood up, followed by Hermione.

Harry curled into the corner of the loveseat, his chin rested atop his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs. He bit his lip and clutched the fabric of his trousers in his fists as another spasm of pain shot up his back and straight to his brain. The tiny goblins that were determined to build a miniature Gringotts inside his head were back.

Familiar footsteps clipped against the wooden floor, drawing closer until Severus' robes blocked his view of Sirius' pictures. Harry looked up. Severus looked like he wanted to say something, but kept silent. Severus draped the blanket over Harry's shoulders before retreating to the wall, a nasty glare directed past him.

Harry grabbed the silver edges and wrapped the blanket further around him. He wanted to pull it over his head and add a layer between himself and the eyes he felt boring into the back of his head, his very bald head. Harry reached up and pulled his beanie down instead. He wasn't weak. He didn't need to hide under blankets.

"May I start, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a gentle whisper.

Harry nodded, confused.

"As Sirius' heir, it is tradition for the person conducting the ceremony to ask for your consent," Minerva whispered beside him.

Harry shivered, tuning out Dumbledore's words. He didn't want to know how wonderful his godfather was or the brave things he did. Harry had gotten Sirius killed. If Harry hadn't rushed off to the Ministry of Magic, there wouldn't be any heir business to keep reminding him that Sirius was gone forever. 

Harry's gaze returned to the picture of Sirius and himself as a baby. He would give anything to get his hands on some unheard of spell and go back to 1981 when he was nothing but a careless baby whose biggest worry was what he'd eat next. His parents would still be alive and maybe there'd be some way to warn Severus to not give him up.

Even if he couldn't go back to 1981, he wanted to turn time back and tell Sirius not to go to the Ministry. Severus had been there to protect him. Sirius hadn't needed to be there at all.

Harry saw a flash of light knock Sirius into the Veil. The surface of the Veil rippled, Sirius disappearing from view as his wand clattered to the ground. Harry struggled against Remus' hold. He had to follow Sirius. There had to be some way back. Sirius couldn't be gone.

"I killed Sirius Black," Bellatrix screeched with laughter.

"No!" Harry broke free and ran after Bellatrix.

As Harry stepped into the atrium he felt the intrusion into his mind and things became hazy. Snape's cold hands cupped his head followed by the man's presence in his mind. Pain had erupted inside his head as Snape pushed Voldemort out and remained there protecting Harry's mind from another possession. Robe covered arms had encircled his body while a calming voice told him he was safe and to sleep.

Unconsciously, Harry rocked back and forth, refusing to deal with the images that played out in his head. He pushed the images away, finding the calm spot in his mind where there was nothing to hurt him and numbness spread throughout his mind and body.

*~AIE~*

Severus glared at Tonks until the young Auror turned her attention away from Harry. He had picked a spot on the wall where he could watch over the entire room. Despite Harry's current disposition of wanting nothing to do with him, Severus was watching his child like a hawk. Harry's gaze hadn't left the pictures displayed on the table since he had sat down, and Severus doubted Harry was hearing the words Dumbledore was saying. The child was a million miles away.

Sighing, Severus leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. Couldn't Dumbledore lose all the superfluous language and get on with it? Harry needed to be home and with a dose of morphine in him, not curled up on that loveseat in a nest of sorts with that silver blanket that Severus doubted he'd ever get back. Harry had taken to the charmed blanket like a baby to a security blanket, which Severus didn't intend to address. If his son drew comfort from something as simple as a blanket then great, Harry had more things to worry about than having a childish behavior brought to his attention.

Sometimes it was hard for Severus to believe Harry would turn sixteen next month. Harry reminded him of an adult at times and a child at others. As frustrating as their disagreement in the library was, it was one of the rare times Harry had displayed a normal adolescent behavior since summer began.

A slip of parchment poked his hip from where it resided in his trouser pocket. Earlier, Minerva had given him the floo address of a Muggleborn psychiatrist who specialized in adolescents. Severus was torn on whether to make an appointment for Harry. No doubt his son had numerous things that needed to be addressed, but would the idea of therapy be too much for his child? Harry already had one doctor that dictated his physical health, and Severus didn't want Harry to feel like he didn't have control over anything. The choice seemed ill fated either way.

"Not only have we lost a brave man, we have also lost a great wizard. Sirius Black was an Auror in the days before he was wrongfully convicted, and I have no doubt that if he had not been sent to Azkaban, he would have been an Auror until his death. His actions in the Ministry of Magic confirm my belief. Sirius died protecting his godchild from Death Eaters, though it is wise to remember that Sirius did not die because of you." The Headmaster caught Harry's attention.

Severus watched Harry shrink even further into the corner of the loveseat. Damn Albus. Did he have to bring up his son's guilt? He took a step forward, intending to comfort Harry, but froze as Harry's refusal to take his morphine made sense. Fingernails digging into his palms, Severus cursed under his breath. Could his son be anymore Gryffindorish? The child was punishing himself for Black's death. Severus resisted the urge to interrupt the memorial, portkey Harry home, and lecture him on foolish behavior. However, even if the child had idiotic reasons for suffering through pain, Severus was convinced more than ever that Harry needed the closure the memorial could bring.

"Sirius was a hero. He fought passionately for the destruction of Voldemort and wanted nothing but the best for his godson. I am sorry the two of you did not have the chance to spend much time together, Harry. It was my belief that you were safest with your relatives, a notion I now deeply regret." Albus frowned at Harry.

Severus saw Harry blink and lower his eyes to the floor, out of range for the Headmaster to employ Legilimency. Minerva gathered Harry into a side embrace, a look of fierce determination on her face as she shielded her favorite student from the Headmaster. She was not a witch to cross, especially when it came to her Gryffindors.

He slipped his wand out of his sleeve and cast an eavesdropping spell at Harry and his colleague. "Ignore him," Minerva whispered, "I told him they were the worst sort of Muggles, but he refused to listen."

"Sirius Black's death is a reminder of the danger we all face, yet we cannot back down. We must continue the fight against Voldemort in our quest to restore peace to our world. Although we may feel defeated in our grief let us remember there is hope," Albus looked at Harry again, "that the sacrifices we have faced and the ones to come are not in vain."

Severus growled. Harry was not the hope of the wizarding world. The Headmaster could anoint Harry as the Chosen One as much as we wanted, but Severus wouldn't allow his child to fight a battle that he had no chance of coming out of alive.

"Harry, the Headmaster will be presenting you with Sirius' wand. You are to wave it and say Lux Aeterna... Harry?" Minerva looked up at Severus, alarmed.

She didn't need to ask him twice. Severus knelt in front of his son. Harry didn't seem to notice him. "Child, I need you to do something for me, okay?"

The fragile body of his son jerked. Harry blinked and his eyes focused on Severus'.

"The Headmaster is going to hand you a wand. Wave it and say Lux Aeterna. After that we can go home."

Harry nodded.

"Pax vobiscum." Albus presented Black's intricately carved wand to Harry with the wand cradled in the Headmaster's open palms.

The wand was snatched up and dropped a second later as Harry realized whose wand he was holding. "No."

Severus picked up the wand. Ceremony dictated that in the absence of a spouse, it was the duty of the dead wizard's heir to release the magical energy left behind by the wizard in his wand for it was thought that a wizard could not completely rest in peace while a part of his magic remained locked in his wand. When the heir was either too young or incapable, assistance was allowed. "Place your hand over mine," Severus whispered as he held out his right arm, Black's wand held in his hand. "You don't have to touch it."

Harry set his hand on top of Severus'. The small hand was clammy and Harry's hand shook so bad that Severus' hand shook under it. "Lux Aeterna." Severus waved the wand.

A bright shower of silver and red sparks shot out from the wand as a peaceful warmth enveloped them. The sparks rose in the air, circling around in a dizzying display until a small silver and red glass stone floated down to them. Severus grabbed the stone and tucked it in his robes beside Black's wand.

"Take him home, Severus. I'll make your farewells for you." Minerva wrapped Harry up in one last hug.

"Thank you." Severus helped Harry to his feet before activating the portkey. There was a tug behind his navel, and an echoing of Miss Granger's voice as they were whooshed away to his quarters at Hogwarts.

Harry's knees buckled upon impacting the floor. Severus managed to slow his son's descent, but couldn't stop Harry's knees from sinking into the area rug. The child's eyes were closed and he looked a bit green. "You're okay. Put your hands down and lean forward." Severus rubbed the back of Harry's neck. "Breathe slowly."

He hadn't realized how much Harry would be affected by magical transportation, but even if he had what choice did they have? It wasn't like they could board a train without a security entourage like everyone else.

Harry laid down, his arms crossed underneath his head.

"No, you don't." Severus tapped his shoulder. "Go change and then you can choose either the sofa or your bed, but not the floor."

Without a word, Harry crawled up onto the sofa and closed his eyes.

Severus sighed as he removed his child's shoes. He had hoped that Harry would have become responsive upon their return home. Harry, however, seemed to have other ideas.

"Child, are you sure you don't wish to change? You'll be more comfortable." Severus tried again.

"It hurts to move," Harry whispered.

"Of course it does." Severus couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his tone, his patience nearing its end.

Striding to the kitchen to wash his hands, Severus returned with a small tray of supplies. "Remember, no arguing." Severus pushed Harry's sweater vest up and unbuttoned his shirt before putting on a set of gloves and freeing a lumen of Harry's Hickman. Once sanitized, Severus injected the much-needed dose of morphine.

*~AIE~*

The rest of the week went by in a blur. Between trying to balance Harry's physical and mental health and warding off unwelcome visitors, Severus had a hard time fitting in a full night's sleep. Harry hadn't spoken more than a few words and only when prompted. The child was clinging to whatever peace he had found inside his head and refusing to live in reality. Sure, Harry went through the motions every day, but there was nothing behind his green eyes. If Severus were honest with himself, Harry's behavior was starting to scare him. His child should've snapped out of it by now.

More than once, Severus had knelt in front of the floo with intentions to make an appointment for Harry with the psychiatrist, but every time he couldn't bring himself to do it. He promised himself he'd give Harry one more day to come around and then another and another until before he knew it, Friday had come and with it low blood counts and a cancellation of Harry's scheduled intrathecal injection to which Harry had blinked in response.

*~AIE~*

A field of white lilies surrounded Harry while a breeze blew across his face, his hair tickling his forehead. The sun warmed his skin from its place high in the sky without a cloud in sight. Harry stood and turned around, the lilies stretching as far as he could see in every direction.

Harry picked a lily and brought it to his nose, inhaling the delicate scent he imagined his mother had smelled like. The trickling sound of water was faint and Harry followed the sound, anxious for a dip in the warm waters.

"Hey kiddo." A figure jumped out of a patch of tall lilies to the left of a wide river.

"Sirius!" Harry ran to the figure. "I knew you'd come back."

"Of course. I couldn't leave you by yourself, now could I?" Sirius ruffled Harry's hair.

"I'm not alone. I know you might not like it, but I've got my dad now. He's been great." Harry looked away to avoid the look of anger that was sure to cross Sirius' face.

"Your dad? But Harry's he's over there." Sirius pointed across the river.

James sat under a tree on top of a red and white checked blanket while his mum was busy setting out plates and silverware for four.

"That's not who I meant. Severus is my dad."

Sirius scrunched up his forehead in confusion. "What are you talking about? Snape isn't your father. Lily would never let that greasy bastard touch her."

"Don't talk about him like that!" Harry's hands flew up in anger.

"But he's Snape!"

"Can we forget about it and cross the river?" Harry sighed. He didn't want to fight with Sirius when his parents were less than fifty feet away.

"Follow me," Sirius said with a nod, leading Harry to the river's edge. A bridge formed over the water. Sirius stepped onto the wooden boards his strides long and fast. "Hey James, you'll never believe what Harry said."

"Sirius, don't!" Harry called him. He stepped onto the bridge, but instead of hitting the wood, his foot went through it. Harry stumbled backwards, quick to avoid falling into the river. "I can't cross!"

"Sure you can," Sirius turned back to face him, "use the bridge."

"I can't." Harry looked up and down the river for another way across.

"I know your James' son and therefore a bit of a jokester, but first saying you're Snivellus' son and now this? You don't need to prove anything to your father. Stop the joking around."

"I'm not!" Harry fisted his hands up, the lily crushing in his palm.

"Harry, run!" Sirius yelled his voice panicked.

"What?"

"Run!"

Harry turned. Behind him, the field of lilies morphed from white to blood red, the petals liquefying and forming a tide that was headed straight for him. Harry jumped towards the river, but a barrier that felt similar to a shield held him back.

"Help! Sirius! Mum! Dad! I can't cross!" Harry searched his pockets for his wand and came up empty-handed.

"Hang on, kiddo!" Sirius jumped into the river as the river's flow sped up and he was carried away downstream.

"No! Sirius!" Harry pounded against the barrier.

His mum's screams filled his ears and before he knew it a bright green light flashed before his eyes.

Harry bolted upright, sending half the covers to the floor. His heart pounded in his chest. He looked around the darkened room for signs of anyone or anything. "Sirius?" Harry whispered, grabbing his wand from his nightstand and casting a Lumos.

Sirius wasn't in the room nor was anyone else. Harry fell back against his pillows, his breathing heavy. It was a nightmare, nothing more. Normal people had them, and if they could handle them so could he. Nevertheless, Harry wanted nothing more than to seek out Severus. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts, and he had no desire to go back to sleep and relive that nightmare.

Wand in hand, Harry slipped out of bed, pulling the duvet with him. He grabbed a hold of his infusion pump, the wand wedged between his hand and the pump. The light from his Lumos reflected off the metal and Harry dropped the wand. "Nox! Nox!" Harry yelled at the wand as he backed away from it.

A snapping sound echoed off the walls as Harry rushed out of the room. He ignored it and made his way down the hallway, freezing at the cracked doorway of Severus' bedroom.

"Severus?" Harry whispered, his voice cracking in disuse. He didn't want to wake him if he was asleep, not over something as stupid as a nightmare.

After counting to one hundred twice without a reply, Harry slid down the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. He felt somewhat comforted knowing Severus was on the other side of the door. At least he wasn't alone or in the same room as that stupid wand.

"Harry?" The door swung open, its hinges screaming in protest as wand light illuminated the hallway.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"It doesn't matter." Severus pulled Harry up and into his bedroom. "Sit."

Harry sat down on the edge of Severus' bed and Flurry walked over and settled next to him, purring as his hand pet her.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?" The back of Severus' hand checked his forehead for a fever. 

"A little, but that's not it."

"What is it, then? Do I need to floo Miss Adamson?" Severus slid on his dressing gown.

"It's stupid. I shouldn't have woken you." Harry pulled at the sleeves of his henley.

"Harry, whatever it is, I'm pleased you woke me."

"Even for something as silly as a nightmare?" Harry looked at the floor.

"What happened in your dream?" Severus sat down beside him.

Harry shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I'll get the tea and chessboard."

Harry scrunched up his face. Tea sounded horrible.

"Hot chocolate and Monopoly?"

"With cinnamon."

Severus sat at the large library table with stacks of parchments and books piled around him. He sighed as he turned the page to July in his weekly planner and crossed out the first through the eighth. A week had passed since the disaster that was Black's memorial and still things had not returned to normal or as normal as it could with having a child that was undergoing cancer treatments.

Severus had expected the two-week break between rounds of chemo to be a bit of a break, but it was proving to be anything but. While Harry had snapped out of his extremely unresponsive state, Harry still wasn't himself. He continued to be withdrawn and speak only when spoken to. Severus had offered the chance to invite Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley over daily, but Harry turned down his offers. They had fallen into a routine and Harry adhered to it like he was on autopilot. Each morning Harry woke between nine and ten, ate as little as Severus allowed, and then worked on his summer homework until 12:30 when it was time for lunch. At one, Madam Pomfrey arrived for an hour of light psychical therapy, which was followed by an afternoon nap on either the sofa in the sitting room or the one in the library like today. Severus would wake him for dinner between five and six and Harry spent the evenings reading or staring into the fire until he excused himself around ten for bed.

The rouse of a schedule needed to stop. It was unhealthy and Severus hadn't the slightest clue of how to proceed. The child didn't want to talk except for the one incident when he demanded Severus to take Black's wand and destroy it. Severus had taken it, but rather than destroying it he sent it off to a jeweler that specialized in making keepsakes out of wands.

Miss Adamson visited daily and while she hadn't said it, Severus could tell by the look on her face that Harry's mental health was having an impact on his physical health. They had managed to reduce Harry's morphine intake by fifty percent, but they were having less luck with tapering him off TPN. In fact, instead of gaining weight, Harry had lost three pounds. And although Harry spent a lot of time sleeping, the child rarely slept for more than a few hours without waking from a nightmare.

The only good thing to come out of this last week was that Voldemort had been quiet. Too quiet. Severus was waiting for the fiery pain to shoot up his left arm or for Harry to scream bloody murder from another mental attack. The Order was stepping up the meetings to three times a week, though so far Severus hadn't attended once since the memorial. He couldn't leave Harry with anyone else right now, and the child refused to step foot in Grimmauld Place.

True to her promise, Minerva had stopped in for tea the day after the memorial, which had since morphed into daily lunch visits. As much as he hated to admit it, he had started looking forward to her visits if for nothing else than to have someone to carry a conversation with since talking to Harry was like talking to a brick wall.

A flash of motion snapped Severus out of his thoughts. He glanced over at the sofa to see the throw blanket lying on the floor that had been covering his child. Severus crossed the room and retrieved the blanket, laying it over Harry again before perching at the edge of a free space on the sofa. He set the back of his hand on his son's forehead, his temperature normal, before Harry rolled away from his touch.

"Go away," Harry mumbled, half-asleep.

"No. Sit up."

"I'm tired." He pulled the blanket over his head.

"You can sleep later." Severus tapped his son's knee. "Come on. Get up."

"Why can't you leave me alone?"

"I've left you alone long enough."

Harry sat up with a huff, his knobby knees poking out from red plaid pajama pants pulled up to his chest. "What do you want?"

"Harry," Severus paused, not knowing where to start. How did a parent breech the subject of seeing a psychiatrist to their child anyway? Out of all the books in Hogwarts' and his library, none of them dealt with adolescent psychology.

"If you don't have anything to say, I'd really like to get some sleep," Harry stated, his voice hard and cold.

"You've lost three pounds." Severus folded his hands in his lap.

"I can't help it," Harry yelled, "Everything tastes like cardboard and the smell of food makes me nauseous. It's not like I'm trying to lose weight. I look horrible already. Do you really think I want to look like a living skeleton?"

"I'm not blaming you for the weight loss."

"It sure as hell sounds like you are." Harry wrapped his arms around his legs.

"Language," Severus warned. This was not going well. Maybe he should've taken time to plan this conversation.

"What are you going to do? Take away my broom?" Harry's voice cracked. "Oh, wait, that's right. I can't fly anyway."

"Harry." Severus resisted comforting his child since his efforts would do more harm than good in Harry's worked up state.

"Why can't you leave me alone? I don't want this." Harry put his hand over the lump in his shirt that was his Hickman. "It's not worth it when Voldemort will kill me anyway."

Severus hissed. "Have you forgotten what I've told you? Voldemort is not your concern. Adults fight wars, not children."

"Try telling him that. He won't stop until I'm dead."

"Look at me," Severus cupped Harry's chin in his hand. His child's eyes were red and glassy from sleep deprivation. "I will not let the Dark Lord kill you."

Harry looked down and whispered, "It doesn't matter. He'll kill you, too."

"Pardon?" Severus asked without thinking. He had heard what Harry said, but his son's statement shocked him.

"Everyone dies. My parents, Sirius... I don't, I can't."

Severus fell back into the sofa as Harry practically tackled him in an effort to attach himself to Severus' side. He wrapped his arms around Harry, feeling the first tear drops fall from Harry's eyes since the memorial saturate and soak into his crisp white oxford.

"I won't leave you," Severus whispered, his arms tightening around his child. "We're safe here."

"You can't die on me," Harry begged.

"Shh," Severus hushed his son. He wouldn't make a promise he couldn't keep. Severus meant what he'd told Harry before. The Dark Lord would have to go through him to get to Harry.

Severus held Harry as all the tears that had been trapped inside Harry spilled out. He'd been waiting for this to happen. Harry couldn't push away his grief forever.

"I can't lose you. Not now," Harry cried against Severus' chest.

"Listen to me. We are in the safest place we can be. The Dark Lord fears the Headmaster and while he remains headmaster, the Dark Lord will not attack Hogwarts. The wards are stronger around Hogwarts than they have ever been and that does not include all the wards on our quarters. Once the new school year begins, there will be Aurors present in and around the castle at all times as well as Order members. If I ever felt that it was no longer safe here, we would be gone, possibly leave the country."

"But how? Wouldn't spies in the Ministry find the portkey records?" Harry wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Severus pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Harry before wandlessly cleaning Harry's sleeve. "The Ministry knows you as Harry Potter when that is not your legal name. No Ministry spy would think to look twice at Hadrian Prince, an American, leaving the country on a Muggle plane."

"I'm not American."

"Technically you have dual citizenship courtesy of your grandparents." Severus rubbed the back of Harry's neck.

"I don't understand."

"As I've told you before, I was born in the States, which gave me automatic citizenship. Even though you were born here, because I possess American citizenship, you were eligible for citizenship provided I exaggerated the amount of time I spent in the States as a teen."

Harry snorted. "No wonder Dumbledore wanted you as a spy if that's the way you thought at twenty."

Severus pulled Harry's beanie down over his eyes.

"Hey!" Harry's hand loosened its grip on Severus' shirt.

With a sound that resembled a chuckle, he pulled the beanie off Harry's head and set it beside them. "It seems my paranoia may pay off," Severus continued. "In the box your mother left us was the paperwork I had filed on your behalf including an American passport. I sent off paperwork this week to renew your passport."

Harry sighed. "Why can't Voldemort just kill himself?"

"That would be too easy." Severus looked at Harry's head. The child was rarely caught without a hat on outside of his bed. Sparse patches of short black hairs sticking straight up were scattered over his son's scalp.

"Stop looking at my head," Harry half-whined as his eyes traveled up to meet Severus' from his position leaning against Severus' side and chest.

"Why?" He traced the four-leaf clover birthmark with his finger. "I rather like being reminded of how lucky you are."

"I'm not lucky." Harry grabbed the black beanie, but resisted putting it on.

"It may not seem like it to you, but you are."

"Was there a reason you woke me?" Harry changed the subject as his body lost its tension and he relaxed into Severus' loosened hold.

"You're not going to like it." Severus frowned. He was having second thoughts on whether he should discuss the possibility of Harry seeing a psychiatrist after Harry's outburst.

"Try me. I've already yelled and cried. I can't react much worse," Harry paused. "I'm not in trouble for yelling at you, am I?"

"No. I'd rather you scream and cry than your behavior this past week, which is part of what I wanted to talk to you about."

Severus felt Harry's body tense up beside him.

"I ask that you let me finish before you give me your thoughts, alright?" Severus forced himself to stay calm and relaxed. If he were to tense up, Harry would pick up on that and the idea of a psychiatrist could wind up being a complete disaster.

"Okay."

"The way you've withdrawn this last week isn't healthy, mentally or physically, evidenced by the three pounds you've lost-"

"But," Harry interrupted.

"What did I saw about letting me finish?" Severus raised his eyebrow. "As I was saying, the way you're grieving is not healthy. A lot of things have changed in the past month and a half including my role in your life. I appreciate the times you have opened up about your childhood with your relatives, and I hope that continues. We're both new at this and while I've done what I think is best for you, I sometimes worry that it is not enough. When you withdraw like you have been, I don't know what to do but wait for you to snap out of it. You deserve better, Harry. I want you to be happy and healthy, physically and emotionally. I'd like you to learn better ways to cope and to have someone to talk to about things you're unsure or worried about when it comes to our relationship. I've been over it numerous times since the memorial and I'd really like you to consider seeing a psychiatrist."

"I'm not crazy." Harry tried to pull away, but Severus tightened his hold around his child.

"I didn't say you were."

"Psychiatrists are for crazy people. I'm not a freak! I'm not!"

"Harry," Severus warned, his voice stern.

His child curled his body into a tight ball.

"You are not a freak. Must I make you write that five hundred times or do you believe me?"

Harry shrugged.

Severus began rubbing circles into Harry's back. "You are a perfectly normal child, mentally, but sometimes everyone needs a little help. You... we are going through a major transition. It is normal to not know you feel or how to express your feelings. A psychiatrist could help assure you that everything you are feeling is normal and to help you find outlets for those feelings."

"I don't want to talk to anyone."

"Do you want to end up like me? Cold, distant and angry at the world?"

"You're not like that. At least not to me." Harry burrowed further into Severus' side as if to prove a point.

"You didn't know me after your mother died." The words slipped out of his mouth before his brain registered what he was saying. "There is a reason I have the reputation I have as a professor."

"Is this that important to you?" Harry looked up at him.

"Do you remember that I promised to help you live?" Severus countered.

Harry nodded.

"Then say yes to this."

His son gulped. "Okay, but you'll find a good one not some cracked up lady with her office decorated in pink cats, right?"

"Minerva gave me the name of a lady who specializes in children and teens. She also comes highly recommended from Miss Adamson, but of course I'll thoroughly interview her before you ever meet her. If I don't think she's right for you, I'll find someone else."

"Will she have to know I'm Harry Potter?"

"Her files will be under your legal name, but I think she needs to know you're Harry Potter if she's to help you. Besides, you should be able to discuss your concerns about the Dark Lord to her if you wish. Who knows, maybe she'll help you realize that there's more to you than Harry Potter."

Silence fell over the room that wasn't uncomfortable but wasn't absent of tension either.

"You're not just saying I'm not crazy, are you?" Harry asked a few moments later, his voice small and quiet.

"You have my word that I do not believe that you're crazy." Severus paused, giving Harry time for his words to sink in. "I believe there's an official looking envelope waiting for you on the table with your O.W.L. scores."

"Already?" Harry asked, his voice breaking as Severus saw the blood drain from his face.

"I assure you that you likely did better than you thought." He nudged Harry to stand up.

"You already opened it?" Harry stopped, a war between anger and shock playing out on his face.

"Isn't that part of what I'm supposed to do? Open your grade reports and test scores before you have a chance to change them?"

"But I don't... I mean... No one has bothered to care about my scores before." Severus saw Harry's lips turn up into a smile before being replaced with worry. "You're not going to make me review a subject and retest me yourself, are you? My scores can't be that bad."

"Like I said I believe you did better than you thought you would. If you wish to know more start walking." Severus smirked. "Although after dinner I do have a potions lesson for you to work on."

"Miss Adamson said no potions."

"Considering we'll be working in the kitchen with ingredients that are absolutely harmless even for Longbottom, I believe she would approve of the lesson." Severus set his hand on Harry's shoulder as they started to descend the library stairs, ready to catch his son if he slipped.

Harry groaned. "I knew you'd find a way around her restrictions."

"You may like the lesson."

"Like that'll ever happen. We both know I'm pants at Potions."

"We'll just have to change that, won't we?" With some one-on-one lessons Harry had more than enough potential to be passable at Potions if not more. Harry shared his blood. The child had to have some talent for Potions in him somewhere.

"Why can't you be the Defense professor?"

"I am. Well at least one of them." Severus laughed. Harry dug his hole deeper and deeper with each word out of his mouth.

"But I have to have Os to get into your classes."

"You forget I can make exceptions if I wish."

"Ugh."

Harry's fingers played with the envelope's broken seal while he watched Severus chop a pile of tomatoes into perfectly even pieces. He didn't know why he felt anxious over his O.W.L. results. He had never cared much about his scores before, and Severus had said they weren't that bad. Before, Harry had needed good scores so he could take the courses necessary to become an Auror. Now, the only thing he knew was that he wanted nothing less than to become an Auror after he finished his schooling. Even with his O.W.L. results in his hands, he had no idea what courses he wanted or needed to take for whatever he decided to do when he grew up…if he grew up.

"Severus?" Harry let the envelope drop onto the island with a sigh.

"Yes?" Severus set down his knife, giving Harry his full attention.

"How do students pick what classes to take when they don't know what they want to do after Hogwarts?"

"I assume you're referring to yourself and not some hypothetical student?"

Harry nodded.

"You are going to get a well rounded education that will be suitable for almost anything you choose to do as an adult. Potions, Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology will form the basis of your curriculum. You will strive to reach your full potential as a wizard not because you are the Chosen One but because you are an intelligent and powerful child who can do anything he chooses."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You think I'm smart?"

"Of course you are." Severus paused, his mouth twitching as he worked to find the right words. "Your mother and I were at the top of our class. I expect nothing less from you."

"But I'm not as smart as Hermione," Harry protested. Never in his life had he been considered as one of the smart ones among his teachers and fellow students.

"Have you ever applied yourself? Actually finished your homework five minutes before classes start?"

"Yes!"

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Not really," Harry confessed.

"Your work this summer has far exceeded anything you've turned into me before. Have the corrections I've given you helped?" Severus picked his knife up and returned to chopping up the tomatoes.

"I think I'm finally understanding how to write an essay." Harry smiled. It was the one thing he could say was something positive that had come out of his summer so far.

"What do you mean?" Severus' head snapped up.

"No one ever taught me how to write an essay. I knew that an essay had an introduction, body, and conclusion, but beyond that I didn't know that I should include specific examples cited from a text, and I'm still figuring out how to organize it into a way that makes the most sense." Harry tried to explain without getting angry. He felt like he was behind the moment he started classes at Hogwarts and never caught up.

"Why didn't you ask one of your professors for help? Minerva would've set aside time to give you a lesson or two on essay writing had she known and had you come to the study group on Saturday mornings if needed."

"What study group?"

"There's a group specifically for first and second years that meets on Saturday mornings for students that the staff has identified as needing extra attention in anything from a specific subject to writing with a quill. Professor Sprout and Professor Burbage are in charge of it. Usually, after a month or two, the student no longer needs to attend."

"I thought I was the only one taking remedial lessons. I never heard anyone talk about the study group." Harry doubted he would've gone if he knew.

"It meets early in the morning so the students can attend without everyone knowing." Harry watched Severus set the tomatoes to the side and step over to the stove, pouring olive oil into a pan. "I've changed your summer assignment. Instead of writing the essay I was going to set you tonight, you'll pick a book and write a five page critical essay using journal articles as your sources to back up your argument."

"What does that have to do with Potions?" Harry wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion.

"Nothing except that if you can analyze literature, you can analyze anything. Mostly, this is an exercise in writing a proper essay. We'll discuss how to choose proper sources, how to organize your essay, what, if any historical background to include, how to narrow down a topic, and anything else I think is beneficial." Severus added garlic to the saucepan.

Harry dropped his head to the counter, Severus' words sounding like Greek to his brain. "I think I'm going to regret bringing this up."

"Harry, when I said we, I meant we. You will write the essay but only after we discuss how to write it in detail. You'll have a template that we'll create to go by, and once we've gone through the process of writing this essay, you'll find your homework easier, especially as you enter your sixth year where your professors start to expect longer essays and assign lengthy projects."

"If you say so." Harry wasn't convinced. Severus would find out how dumb Harry really was. There was no way he could come close to Hermione when it came to grades.

"You'll have room on your schedule for other classes. While you could pursue other N.E.W.T courses, you may find it better to select electives that do not result in N.E.W.T.s."

"What do you mean?" There was no way Harry was going to take Arithmancy with third years.

"Hogwarts offers a group of electives open to sixth and seventh years that compliments the core curriculum and expands the base of knowledge past the most basic wizarding subjects. For example, Professor Burbage teaches a course on literature, and Professor Flitwick teaches Magical Theory that also incorporates Latin language skills, a class you should take if you're interested in inventing your own spells."

"Did you take any of the electives?" Harry rested his chin on his arm as he saw Severus add the tomatoes. "What are you making anyways?"

"To answer your first question, yes I took one elective in addition to achieving twelve N.E.W.T.s. I sat the Muggle Studies and Latin N.E.W.T.s without taking the classes. As for your second question, I'm making pizza, a food I recall that many teenage boys live on."

"Seriously?" His mind could never comprehend that Severus Snape grow up among Muggles and was aware of such Muggle things.

"Was I wrong to assume that you like pizza?" Severus looked down at him with a frown.

"No. I mean I think I like pizza. I've never had it," Harry admitted. The Dursleys ordered pizza almost every week, but Harry was never allowed a slice. Why was Severus going through such hassle? Usually Severus cooked something light and easy to throw together since Harry didn't eat more than a few bites. Harry eyed the envelope. "Are you doing this because of my O.W.L. scores?"

"Of course not. I merely wanted pizza and fizzy drinks for dinner." Harry saw an uncertain look flash across Severus' face.

Harry couldn't believe it. Severus was putting together a special dinner just for him to celebrate his O.W.L. scores, and he must have planned it because he had to have snuck off or arranged for someone else to buy the fizzy drinks. "There's fizzy drinks?" Harry asked instead of making a big deal of it to avoid an uncomfortable evening.

"In the cold cabinet." Severus motioned to the envelope. "Are you going to open it, or should I put you to work grating cheese?"

Harry picked up the envelope, pulling the parchment out and unfolding it. Holding in his breath, Harry let his eyes scan the parchment:

Astronomy: A

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: E

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Divination: P

Herbology: E

History of Magic: D

Potions: E

Transfiguration: E

"I got an E in Potions." Harry was in shock. He never expected to get a passing grade in Potions, never mind an E.

"Along with six other O.W.L.s including an O in Defense. Congratulations, Harry." Severus grabbed two Cokes from the cold cabinet, setting one in front of Harry.

"Thanks," Harry said, his tone forced and awkward. He hadn't the slightest clue how he should react to someone praising him and hoped the simple thank you was enough.

Severus nodded before setting a grater, a plate, and several blocks of different cheeses on the island. "Start grating."

"But I opened my scores," Harry half-heartedly protested. He didn't mind helping out in the kitchen when he wasn't the only one cooking.

"Think of it as physical therapy." Severus smirked before grabbing the parchment off the countertop and sticking it to the front of the cold cabinet.

Harry stopped reaching for the grater in mid-grab as he stared at his scores stuck on the equivalent of a refrigerator. "You didn't-"

"Making pizza is a messy task. I merely moved your scores out of our work area." Severus stirred the sauce, splashing a bit of the red mixture onto the counter.

"Right." Harry tried hard not to smile as he started grating a block of mozzarella.

*~AIE~*

After dinner, which Severus considered a huge success since Harry ate a slice and a half of pizza, Severus set out the supplies needed for Harry's Potions lesson including a jar of the finished product. Harry's face had a look of dread written across it, but Severus hoped this lesson would change Harry's views on Potions. After all, Harry couldn't possibly mess up the lesson. Even Longbottom could've brewed the concoction before entering Hogwarts.

"This is what you will brew today." Severus opened up the jar containing a simple hand balm. "I have written out the base recipe for you. You will brew it twice, the second time following a slightly altered recipe. First, however, you will identity what is in the jar by using your senses of sight, smell, and touch. Do not over think it."

"Are you sure this is safe?" Harry eyed the jar with a look of concern. "I thought I wasn't supposed to use potions."

"Harry, I'm trying to purposely be vague to not give you the answer, but I will tell you that the concoction is listed in the class of common household potions. It is no more dangerous than shampoo." Severus measured out an ounce and a half of jojoba oil and poured it into a small beaker. His child was more than capable of measuring out his own ingredients, but Severus didn't want him spilling the ingredients and getting frustrated over his shaky hands.

Severus kept Harry in the corner of his eye. He wanted to watch the child without Harry feeling like he was under observation. So far, Harry had scooped out a small amount of the balm on his finger and had smelled it.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Harry sighed as he rubbed the balm off on a towel. "I don't know what I'm supposed to think this is."

"Rub it into your skin." Severus was surprised with how quick Harry gave up. He knew they couldn't erase all the bad blood between them overnight, but he had hoped Harry would try a little harder before reverting back to the frustrating teenager Severus had encountered in his classroom.

"This is pointless." Harry rolled his eyes, but rubbed a bit of the hand balm into his hands anyway.

"What difference do you notice?"

"My hands feel softer, less dry."

"Exactly. Now, what produces such results? Remember, don't over think it." Severus waited for Harry to make the connection.

"It reminds me of lotion, but why would anyone brew lotion?"

"A hand balm is the correct term for the concoction's firmer consistency, but yes, you are essentially correct. In rethinking your curriculum because of the restrictions, it occurred to me that you were never introduced to the simplest potions like these because your Muggle relatives raised you. You will use this class of potions to improve your theory by experimentation. For today you will brew the balm according to the recipe the first time, and the second time you will use two thirds more jojoba oil and observe what that does to your finished product." Severus set a notebook and pencil in front of his son. "Any questions?"

Harry looked down at the simple recipe. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"Do I have to use lavender oil, or can I use something else?"

"Use lavender today and in your next lesson you can experiment with the scent." Severus pulled a stool out and sat down. "Begin."

Watching Harry "brew" the hand balm was nerve-racking for Severus. It wasn't the concoction itself that had Severus' anxiety levels turned up high, but Harry handling the waxes and oils. Even though Severus had pre-measured the ingredients, he couldn't help but notice how the glass beakers shook as Harry picked each one up to dump it into the larger beaker that was submerged in a pan of simmering water. What if one of the beakers slipped from Harry's grasp or knocked against something and shattered in his hand?

"Do I do something wrong?" Harry frowned as he mixed the jojoba, shea butter, and beeswax together.

"No." Severus peered into the glass beaker, the ingredients all melted and combined together. "Get the lavender and lemon oils ready." He moved the pot off the stove, allowing Harry to mix in the oils before Severus poured the mixture into a jar to set up.

"I could've done that." Harry picked up the pot and returned it to the stove to start the next batch.

"I know," Severus said, more to reassure himself than his son.

"I've got this really. I know I'm pants at Potions, but I don't think even I can mess this up." Harry had the audacity to smirk.

"Brat." Severus summoned the Prophet, shielding his eyes from the temptation of watching his son's hands prepare the second batch of balm. However, the paper didn't block his hearing. Severus gripped the paper tighter every time he heard glass clink against something. For once, he was glad he assigned such a short assignment. If the preparation had taken more than five minutes, Severus would have had to flee from the kitchen.

Once Severus heard the pot hit the sink, he folded up the Prophet, set it aside, and walked to the sink. "What did you notice in the second batch that was different than the first?"

"The consistency seemed thinner." Harry turned on the water.

"Good. What do you suppose that'll mean to the finished product?" Severus motioned to the beakers and pan. "I'll get that."

"It won't be as hard, more of a lotion?" Harry guessed, standing awkwardly off to the side as Severus started to wash the equipment.

"Precisely. Write down what we did today and the results in the notebook. You need to get in the habit of journaling while brewing." Severus hid a sigh of relief as Harry returned to his stool, all in one piece and without a scratch or cut from the glass on him. Perhaps he should give that Muggle chemistry catalogue with heat-resistant plastic beakers and test tubes another look.