Harry wiped his hands over his face roughly, "This is..." he shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. He leaned forward until his elbows were on top of the desk, the pressure from his hands causing bursts of light behind his eyelids.

He needed... he needed to figure this out. Sort through it all and get himself together.

Somehow.

A tentative hand settled between his shoulder blades, fingertips moving lightly back and forth over his t-shirt. "I will ask that Tonks woman if I can come back for your next appointment." Aunt Petunia rubbed from side to side; Harry swayed slightly with the movement.

He didn't have the heart to tell her it wasn't Tonks, but Dumbledore who would have to send for her. So instead, he nodded, lifting up his head and resting his chin in his upturned palm. "Thanks," he muttered.

Aunt Petunia's free hand closed around his, and she scooted closer to him. The hand on his back circled around his shoulders as she hugged him.

Harry froze up, then relaxed, blowing out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"You'll be alright," she said, rocking him a little.

A vague memory of watching Aunt Petunia do the very same thing to Dudley when they were children came to mind, but Harry squelched it. Maybe he was too quick to let everything go... But he'd seen the animosity between Snape and Sirius and Remus. He couldn't live his life in bitterness.

He'd take what he could get.

Voldemort was enough to be bitter about.

Harry clenched his teeth. No more, he told himself. No more carrying around hatred and anger. Not after the mess he'd gotten into last year. Maybe if he hadn't been so upset and angry all the time, maybe he would have listened to Hermione about going to the Ministry.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew that part of it had been Voldemort's influence through his scar, but all the yelling and frustration... That was all him.

Aunt Petunia released him fully, "Are you tired? Do you want to sleep?" she scraped her chair back, standing up and prompting him into doing so as well.

Harry stretched his hands towards the ceiling, yawning, when wasn't he tired? "Not really," he deflected. Truthfully, he wasn't sure when he'd see her again, and he'd really like to carry on talking to her. Harry let her chivvy him into the bed and fuss over the sheets.

"Aunt Petunia," he asked, when she finally sat down beside him on the edge of the bed.

Her hands twisted in her lap anxiously, "Yes?"

Tension built in Harry's stomach, maybe he shouldn't ask her, but... "Why d'you- did you hate, um," he bit his lip, "magic, so much."

Aunt Petunia's eyelids fluttered; her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

Harry looked away from her, torn between shame and curiosity for her answer. "You don't have to answer..." he said, a mite reluctantly. "Not right now," he added, a moment later. An idea struck him, "You can write to me about it, maybe?"

He placed a hand over hers, stilling the wringing motions.

Aunt Petunia nodded silently, but she wouldn't meet his eye.

Damn, Harry cursed himself, had he ruined today's progress?

He searched for a way to get her talking again. Of course, he suppressed a victorious smile, and asked, "How's Dudley?"

The bed shifted as Aunt Petunia jolted in surprise, "Oh he's fine. He's fine. Misses Privet Drive, I suppose." She angled her body toward him, "I think he misses you, actually, he asked me how you were getting on."

Harry just barely suppressed a snort, "Erm, alright well," he paused awkwardly, "tell him I said hullo, and that I'm fine as well."

A lie, but oh well. He doubted Dudley would understand any of this medical jargon anyway. Harry could barely understand himself.

"I will." Aunt Petunia checked the watch on her wrist, "Nearly noon," she commented, "Is- How is your- that is to say-"

Harry laughed, not accustomed to Aunt Petunia being flustered over saying something to him, "Just spit it out," he advised.

Aunt Petunia's cheeks pinked, "I meant to ask how staying with your," she cleared her throat delicately, "professor is."

It took Harry a moment to realise who she was talking about, "You mean Snape?" he blurted.

Her lips twisted and her expression portrayed something akin to disgust, "Yes, him."

Harry grinned. There was something funny and strangely comforting about Aunt Petunia disliking Snape. "He's alright. A bit stiff, but that's normal for him."

Aunt Petunia sniffed haughtily, "He always was rather snooty."

The irony was not lost on Harry, who let out a bark of laughter. Perhaps Snape and his aunt had more in common than they realised. "He feeds me and everything, so I guess staying with him is fine for now." Something occurred to Harry, and he scowled as he remembered.

"What is it?" Aunt Petunia brushed her fingers over his.

Harry made a face, "I just remembered I have to stay with him all through the school year until I'm better. Malfoy, the bloke I told you about?"

Aunt Petunia nodded, "In your letter. The one you don't get on with?"

"Yeah, him," Harry confirmed, "He has to stay too." He made a face at her.

"Is he really so awful?" she inquired, "Perhaps he's acting out because of what happened with his mother."

The derisive snort he let out voiced his opinions on that presumption. "Believe me, Malfoy being a plonker isn't a new habit. He's always been a right git to me."

Probably sensing Harry's feelings on the subject Aunt Petunia tried to be reassuring, "Well," she began bracingly, "You say school is to begin soon, won't that mean your, ah, friends might visit?"

Harry shifted on the bed to support his upper body on his elbows, "I do have friends, Aunt Petunia," he said wryly, aware that she didn't know because -until recently- she hadn't cared. "Their names are Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They're my best friends."

Aunt Petunia nodded, her cheeks pink, "Of course," she murmured. "I didn't mean to-"

Harry dropped back to his pillows, "Don't worry about it," he said, patting her hand, "I know."

She smiled at him. A small smile, but a real one.

0000

Two days.

August 30th was the day after the next.

Two days and Harry was a basket case of nerves and scientific terms.

He'd tried distracting himself with homework. For the first time since he'd started Hogwarts, he'd finished all his summer homework before summer holidays were over. Hermione would have been proud.

Harry had even let Snape look over them. Although... it was less him allowing Snape, and more Snape demanding he hand them over.

Two long days.

Breakfast on the morning of August 29th was tense. At least on Harry's part. Malfoy, who had taken to sulking in his room, had been dragged out by Snape and forcibly shoved into a chair. He now sat twirling his spoon around in his oatmeal, his blonde hair combed to perfection.

Harry bounced his leg beneath the table, the motion fast and nervous. His hands shook as he ate his toast. Plain, no butter. His stomach was trickier than ever with anxiety curled up in it.

Snape flipped through a copy of the Prophet and sipped on his tea, seemingly unconcerned by the adolescents at his table. He did, however, send Malfoy a warning look when the boy had tried to get up.

After another moment or two of reading, Snape folded his paper and set it beside his plate. Harry had already abandoned the remains of his toast, and Malfoy had eaten enough for a dying rat.

Harry moved to rise, but Snape clears his throat pointedly.

"I received an owl from your oncologist this morning," Snape said, "Because of the unusual condition of your case, I must venture into muggle London and visit an apothecary there."

Harry frowned, he didn't have any pounds on him. The only way to get them would be to visit Gringotts first, but Harry got the impression he wasn't to be out in public for the sake of his 'safety'.

"However, I am reluctant to leave the both of you in my home unattended."

Malfoy's cheeks turned pink, Harry laughed. Then promptly shut up because Snape was glaring at him too.

"I think I can manage to control myself, professor." said Harry, rolling his eyes, "Can't make any promises for that plonker, though." He jerked his head toward Malfoy who straightened up in his seat, lips pressed together so tightly they were white.

"I was the one pinned to the couch, you muggle-bred heathen!" hissed Malfoy, leaning across the table in what he probably thought to be a menacing gesture.

Harry opened his mouth to hiss something scathing right back, but Snape cut him off.

"I grow weary of this squabbling, gentlemen." Snape said irately. "Either shut up and learn to live in the same space without the constant histrionics, or I will find something to keep you both so busy your mouths will never wish to open again.

Malfoy spluttered, but another look from Snape had him slumping in his chair with a mutinous expression.

"Now," began Snape, as though he hadn't been interrupted, "To the matter at hand. You may not have realised, but I am frequently in the company of the Dark Lord. Meaning, in order for me to continue my post as spy, I must have my entire mind focused on whatever task I am entrusted with."

Harry leaned his chin on his hand, staring intently at Snape; Where on earth was he going with this?

Snape leveled them both with a look, "I simply cannot be worrying about hearth and home when occluding without revealing that I am occluding while listening to the Dark Lord's narcissistic, maniacal speeches simultaneously. Not to mention my whole purpose is to catch information he may or may not let slip." Snape leaned forward, the end of his speech more snapped than said.

Leaning back hastily, Harry began to realise that perhaps Snape's constant need for order and obedience was more due to stress than an intense hatred for everyone and everything.

"The only way this arrangement will work, gentlemen, is if I can trust you to behave yourselves as I have instructed."

Harry looked across the table at Malfoy, whose usually pale cheeks had flushed pink in what Harry thought to be embarrassment.

Snape sighed wearily, "I realise this will be difficult for all involved," he said, somewhat resigned, "There simply is no other option. We must make the best of our situation."

Harry looked down. This was a side of Snape he'd never knew existed. An understanding... and practically reasonable side.

"Okay," said Harry before his brain could filter in something less compliant sounding.

Malfoy gave a jerky nod as well.

However, it was what remained unspoken that made a difference.

A sort of shift in the atmosphere. A shift that meant, however begrudging, trust.

0000

"I'm-" Draco swallowed. Apologizing... or even merely regretting his actions, was something uncomfortably foreign to him.

Severus pretended not to hear Draco's falter, and merely continued his work on a bubbling potion.

Draco straightened his spine, "I apologize, for my behavior of late. I don't know what came over me."

Severus looked him in the eye, briefly, before standing. "Watch after this potion, Draco, I must run an errand that cannot wait and this must simmer for another 20 minutes."

Draco sighed in relief, only to nearly choke on his spit when his wand flew from his pocket and into Snape's hand.

Without so much as a second glance, Severus swept from the room. Draco sat dutifully on the stool before the cauldron, the book beside it was opened to a pain relieving brew. He found where Severus had left off quickly, but somewhere inside him, a weight had lifted.

Severus was all he had. At least for now. He had trusted the man once, hadn't he? This was what his mother had wanted.

Draco would rather have his nails peeled off then disobey his mother's last wish before the Dark Lord had murdered her.

Yes. Murder.

Call it what it is, Draco, he berated himself, though his hands shook as he stirred the potion.

Slytherins were opportunists, not self-sacrificing idiots. If this was the way to survive, then he'd damn well better do it. His mother had believed it, now so must he.

Flashes from that horrible day in front of Potter's home darted about in his head. His mother's limp body. His father's aloof and uncaring attitude. The way it felt to have his heart ripped in half and his world tilted on its axis.

Draco tried to hold his hand steady as he put in the valerian root, but his hand slipped.

If he hadn't tipped his chair back and fallen in his haste to right the mistake, the explosion of hot liquid would have caught him right in the face.

0000

"What in hell are you doing?"

Harry burst into the potions lab.

Snape had left less than ten minutes earlier, and Harry had just chosen what was probably the only interesting book on all the shelves in the sitting room when he'd heard the ruckus.

"Malfoy?" Harry called, but heard only a small whimper in reply. Carefully, Harry navigated his way around the splatters of yellow mess to the other side of the long counter. There, half beneath the counter, and lying beside an overturned stool was Malfoy. Curled in a fetal position on the floor, yellow spots dotting his blue, button down shirt.

Harry crouched down, "What happened?" he asked, wondering if he should offer Malfoy a hand up.

Malfoy removed his hands from his face and sat up, "What do you think? I fobbed the damn recipe."

Harry stood, deciding against helping Malfoy up, "Snape's going to give you a proper dressing down when he gets back."

Malfoy scoffed, "No he won't," he snapped, though he looked less than confident about it. "Help me clean this up."

Harry backtracked, "I don't think so, Malfoy. You're the git that made the mess."

Malfoy scowled at him, "If Severus comes back here and finds his lab like this, he'll kill us both."

Eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe, Harry leaned forward menacingly, "And why would he do that?"

"Because I'll tell him you came in here and altered it when I wasn't looking." The smirk on Malfoy's face made Harry want to curse him nine ways to Sunday.

No way would Snape believe him over Malfoy. Harry glared, "You are the biggest prat I have ever met," he said simply. Then marched from the room, returning moments later with one of Dudley's rather hideous hand-me-downs.

"Well," snapped Harry, when he saw that Malfoy was still standing where he'd left him, "Get a bloody bucket, git!"

They cleaned in silence for a while, Harry wiping down the counters and Malfoy the walls.

"I can't believe you botched a potion Snape wanted you to brew." Harry sniggered absently, scrubbing at a spot that had already dried and crusted over. "This is disgusting."

"That's rich, coming from you. Tell me, exactly how many potions have you utterly destroyed year after year in class?" asked Malfoy waspishly.

Harry tossed his rag in the bucket and lifted himself to sit atop the freshly clean counter, "You can clean the floor and everything else yourself."

Malfoy sighed noisily, "This would be so much simpler if we weren't cleaning like muggles," he groused.

Huh... it hadn't even occurred to Harry to use magic. Then he remembered he couldn't anyway. Malfoy could though, right?

"Why aren't you?"

Malfoy spun on his heel to face Harry, "Because I don't have a damn wand."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Malfoy's tone. He sounded angry, but somehow vulnerable. Like not having his wand was the worst thing that ever could have happened to him. "Why not?"

Dropping the rag in the bucket, Malfoy bent to rinse it out. "Because Severus probably thinks I'll try to curse you."

Harry hopped of the counter, deciding he could maybe wipe a bit more of the mess up, "Well, I doubt he'd be far off the mark. Wonder why he hasn't taken mine..."

Malfoy gingerly crouched on the balls of his feet to wipe the floor, "You can't use magic, dimwit. Though you'd think he'd realise you don't have an ounce of self-preservation in you."

For that, Harry nudged him in the back with his foot. Malfoy unbalanced and just barely caught himself on his hands and knees.

"You- You blubbering menace! What was that for?" demanded Malfoy, standing. Yellow spots had taken residence on his tan slacks, luckily he hadn't gotten any on his hands. "This could be acidic for all you know!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "I think we'd be burning right now if it were, we've been cleaning this shite for the last 20 minutes."

Draco sniffed in disdain, but ignored Harry's sense in favor of finishing the job.

Soon, the quiet began to press on his ears, and he simply had to speak. It was unfortunate that Potter had to be the other half of his conversation, but one must adapt to survive, he supposed.

"How long do you suppose we'll be locked down here, do you think?"

Potter had hopped back up on the counter and was swinging his feet ridiculously. If telling Severus didn't require explaining the mess, Draco would have done it in a heartbeat.

"Dunno. I'll probably be stuck here for the school year. If what they told me is anything to go by." said Potter, leaning back on his hands.

Draco paused in his cleaning, "What did they say?" he inquired, trying to keep the interest out of his voice.

Potter scowled, "It's none of your business."

Draco made a face and went back to cleaning, "Touchy, aren't you? It's not like there's anything else to talk about," he muttered irritably.

"Let's just say if I'm not puking my guts up, I'll be so sick I won't want to leave my bed anyway." Potter sighed, "Maybe Snape will let Ron and Hermione visit at least."

Merlin preserve him, he hadn't even considered... "I sure as shite hope not!" cried Draco indignantly. He didn't need any Gryffindor idiots lurking about! That was the last thing he needed.

"It's not like you won't get to have those lumps you call friends down here! If you get Crabbe and Goyle, I get Ron and Hermione!" Potter glowered at him, but Draco paid him no mind.

"What makes you think Severus will let Crabbe and Goyle down here? The Dark Lord isn't even supposed to... know where I am." A bit of his bravado faded near the end. Would he ever see the outside world again? Just how determined was the Dark Lord? Was his father looking too?

0000

They only barely wiped away the last of the evidence before Snape came whirling in through the floo.

Harry, who had been lying sprawled across the couch reading like he owned the place, sat up so quickly he near gave himself whiplash.

Malfoy, however, had decided to start in on his summer assignments. Harry had already finished all of his. There wasn't much else to do. Well, unless one counted talking to Malfoy.

Harry certainly didn't.

"I have your prescriptions," said Snape, "Come into the kitchen for a moment, I'd like to discuss them with you."

With a small amount of trepidation, Harry followed Snape.

Snape set a brown paper bag on the table between them, he looked... (Harry tried not to show that he was scrutinizing the man,) hesitant? Or rather, uneasy. As though he was quite sure how to handle the situation.

Harry couldn't blame him, until recently he wasn't aware Snape could talk in a normal and not at all berating tone.

Snape tipped over the bag, "I was told your prescriptions may change over time depending on your body's reaction to the therapy you will receive tomorrow, but as of now, I understand that this," Snape held up a small tube, "Is to be put on the skin covering your port an hour before your appointment."

He handed the tube to Harry with the prescription papers. "I want you to read through everything and follow the directions exactly. It is meant to numb your skin, so it musn't touch your clothes, lest it get spread everywhere."

Harry looked over everything quickly, "Okay, thanks." he said, looking back up at Snape. He'd have to wait until after to decipher some of this. Merlin, how he hated medical speak.

Snape inclined his head, "You are to say something immediately if you feel that it is not working properly. I have also an anti-emetic drug for you that-"

"An anti what?" Harry interrupted.

"Anti-emetic. I understand that it somehow prevents you from vomiting. I have tablets for you to keep here, but they may inject it through your port instead." Snape explained.

Harry felt a little sick now just thinking about all the things he'd have to remember and do. As though Snape knew what Harry was thinking, which, now Harry considered it, he probably did.

He said, "When you finish reading through this, I will keep them for you in the kitchen. I'd rather you not forget a dosage. If all your doctor says is to be believed, it will be much easier for me to simply take care of it for you."

One less thing to worry about, thought Harry, "Thank you, professor. This, um-" Harry didn't know what to say. Here he was, completely trusting a man he'd sworn to hate, and he wasn't even feeling a tiny bit begrudging about it. "Just..." Harry bit his lip, "Thanks."

Snape nodded, "I will wake you tomorrow for your appointment."

Harry got up, recognizing the dismissal.

"Mr. Potter-"

Harry turned in the doorway.

"I am sure everything will proceed accordingly."

….Was that code for 'Stop panicking, you'll be fine'?

Harry gave a half-shrug and left the room, just in time to see Malfoy slip out of the sitting room and down the hallway.

Harry rolled his eyes, but decided to leave it be for now.

He fetched his book from where he'd left in on the couch, making his way back to his own room to finish a couple more chapters before it was dinner time.