Not for the first time, Harry wondered how long he'd be like this. He sat upright on the bed in his room off the Hospital Wing, feet dangling over the edge and dressed in his pajamas. Snape had said it was best not to wear anything that made accessing his port to difficult when he shook Harry out of sleep that morning.

They'd come early, Snape had insisted, and it would be another 30 minutes or so before his appointment started. Malfoy had moaned and groaned about not being allowed to stay home and sleep, but after a look from Snape Harry hadn't quite understood, he'd shuffled dutifully into the fireplace.

But now they were here, and things were like, well, like this! The quiet. The unbearably uncomfortable quiet. Harry let out a sigh, almost wishing time would move faster. Almost. If he weren't so...scared. He was scared.

Alright. He admitted it. He was afraid. Just...scared out of his mind about everything. More afraid than he'd ever been of Voldemort, or Uncle Vernon, or even the green light he'd seen in his nightmares as a child.

He was scared because there was nothing he could do but sit, and wait, and try to understand.

Harry scooted back on the bed shakily, forcing himself to breathe in and out slowly. His hands shook, but he lowered himself to lie down on his pillows. He could do this. He could. Just a couple of needles and a bit of chemicals and everything would be fine.

He'd just be...sick for a while.

Harry pressed his fingernails into the palms of his hands, he was going to miss an entire year of school. An entire year!

Oh Merlin, he was going to be positively ill.

There was no chance he'd be able to keep up with his studies alone in the dungeons, unable to do magic.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing forcefully. Fine, he was fine. He wasn't panicking. He just wasn't. This was just reality hitting him, or something.

He could- If he just-

"Mr. Potter, are you alright?"

Harry snapped his eyes open, "Yeah," he breathed, "Yeah, I'm fine." Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at Malfoy over Snape's shoulder. "Just, uh, just-" Malfoy seemed to be trying awfully hard to get a peek at Harry, and his interested expression definitely rubbed Harry the wrong way.

"Can he leave?" Harry asked, jerking his chin in Malfoy's direction. "No offense, sir, but he really has no business being in here." Harry hadn't bothered to lower his voice. If Malfoy wanted to be rude and nosey, than Harry could be just as bad.

Snape sighed, "I'm afraid I can't leave him on his own outside my quarters just yet."

Malfoy's outraged retort was drowned by the medi-witches exiting the fire place.

All his worries about Malfoy faded away immediately, and in a flare of weakness, Harry grabbed Snape's sleeve as the man made to move away. Their eyes met, Snape's inquisitive, Harry's wide and beseeching.

The moment passed, and Harry pried his own fingers away from Snape's sleeve.

Healer Beesely descended upon him, Ms. Hemmingway just beside her, and Harry didn't protest the poking and prodding that followed.

30 minutes later, he'd been asked several intrusive questions, found out he'd lost more weight, had his port hooked up, and his blood tested. It all seemed to happen so fast, Harry forgot to be nervous. Ms. Hemmingway had drawn the curtain around his bed, blocking Snape and Malfoy, who were sitting on the couch, from view.

Harry could hear Healer Beesely talking to Snape about his eating and sleeping habits as he waited, sitting semi-upright against a stack of pillows in his bed. It struck him how odd it was that Snape was really sort of responsible for him now.

It was actually... well, funny. It hadn't been at first, but now Harry thought of it, Snape was probably having a time of it having to watch out for him after years of mutual hatred.

Harry smiled to himself.

"Something funny?" asked Ms. Hemmingway. She was attaching bags of liquid to the IV pole beside Harry's bed.

"Not really," said Harry, "All the enforced confinement is probably driving me batty."

Ms. Hemmingway laughed, "I know how you feel. I spend more time in my room studying, or at St. Mungo's working than I do anywhere else."

Harry made a face, "I've got a friend who forces me to study because I wait till the last minute too often."

"Sounds like a good friend," commented Ms. Hemmingway, finishing up, and sitting on the chair beside Harry's bed.

Harry fiddled with his covers, "She is. She always helps me and Ron, that's my other friend, even though she spends most of her time scolding us for not knowing any of the material."

Ms. Hemmingway leaned forwards, elbows on her knees, "She must be very clever."

"She is," Harry assured her, "Hermione is... well, she's absolutely brilliant at everything. Except divination," he added as an afterthought.

"Do you like her?" inquired Ms. Hemmingway, an eyebrow raised and a small smile on her face.

Harry frowned, "Yeah, of course. She's one of my best friends."

Ms. Hemmingway laughed at him, "I see."

Oh. Oh.

"No, no! Hermione and I aren't- We're like brother and sister. Siblings! Not-" Harry stammered, trying to make her understand.

"Relax, Harry, I get it." She winked.

Harry's eyes were as round as saucers. "Ron likes Hermione!" he blurted, then realised he'd made it sound as though Harry liked her but couldn't because Ron did too. Ms. Hemmingway pressed her lips together and nodded seriously; Harry groaned in frustration.

"Never mind." He shook his head.

"I'm only teasing, Harry."

Harry gave up defending himself.

"I don't like anyone like that," he confessed, "No time." (And the Cho debacle was enough to keep him from diving into another relationship for a while.)

Ms. Hemmingway smiled kindly. "Well, I'm glad you've got a good pair of friends. I had far too many silly ones during my years here."

"Harry?" Healer Beesley peeked her head through the curtain, "We're ready to start treatment."

0000

Harry had come to understand several things in the hours that followed the start of his first cycle of chemotherapy.

1. He would have gotten very bored if Snape hadn't produced a chess set, and played with him until he fell asleep.

2. Malfoy knew how to laugh when he wasn't making fun of someone.

3. There were 4 drugs that made up his chemo treatments, all of them known to cause side effects.

4. Doxorubicin was the worst thing Harry had ever had the displeasure to come in contact with.

Harry held Snape's arm shamelessly as Ms. Hemmingway prepped his hand to insert an IV. He should have turned away, but his eyes were glued to the plastic piece protruding from his skin..

He'd watched, fixated, as Healer Beesley snapped on a pair of gloves, and Ms. Hemmingway covered the skin surrounding the catheter in his hand. Doxorubicin was an extremely toxic drug that could eat through his skin if so much as a drop managed to touch him.

It caused itchiness, mouth sores, hair loss, weight loss, stomach pain, vomiting, dizziness, and, best of all, it burned as it went in.

Harry felt that wincing and letting the occasional hiss slip from his lips was entirely justified.

A strange sensation came over him as Healer Beesley carefully pushed the drug into his vein. His face had begun to feel heated, and a hot feeling started to build in the pit of his stomach. Harry could feel his self control slipping as the heat crawled it's way up his body.

"Is it-" he drew in a shaky breath, gripping Snape's arm ever harder than before, "Is it supposed to feel like this?" He asked weakly, staring intently at the needle as Healer Beesley removed it.

Harry had been warned about what might happen if even a drop of that crap landed on his skin.

"I'm afraid so, dear," tutted Healer Beesley.

Unable to muster even a look of acceptance, Harry turned away from her and shut his eyes.

"I feel like I'm burning up inside." His eyes watered dangerously.

"The feeling will pass, I am sure," said Snape quietly.

Harry kept his eyes squeezed shut and said nothing.

"I believe the Headmaster plans to escort your Aunt Petunia to your next appointment."

Momentarily distracted, Harry's eyes popped open.

"Really?" he breathed, "But school will have started by then."

Snape rolled his eyes, "Magic tends to allow us to conceal things from others, Mr. Potter. Keeping you from your family during this time would be unfair to all parties involved."

Oh, and that was another thing. His treatments, (bi-monthly), could go on from ten months to a year.

A year.

Harry wasn't sure how he'd endure a year of this. But knowing he might see his aunt put him at ease.

After the chess game, Harry drifted in and out of sleep. Next time he'd remember to bring a book or two. When he was awake, he felt bad for making Snape and Malfoy sit around waiting for him, when he was asleep he had confusing pieces of dreams about Snape smiling at him proudly and Malfoy shaking his hand like they were old chums.

From these Harry would wake up in shock.

At half past 1 P.M., Snape proposed that Harry and Malfoy play a game of chess while he went to fetch lunch and the rest of Harry's prescriptions.

They made it halfway through the game before Harry began to feel too nauseated to sit up.

When Snape returned nearly two hours later, the smell of whatever food he'd decided to bring caused Harry to spend his lunch time over a 'just in case' bowl, and Malfoy to eat in the actual Hospital Wing.

Snape sat with Harry until he fell asleep again.

By 4 o'clock, Harry had deduced that chemo was exceptionally boring.

Ms. Hemmingway came back alone an hour later to unhook his port, and flush and tape the line.

By then Malfoy had fallen asleep on the couch, and Harry and Snape were playing a muggle card game with the deck Snape had bought when he'd left to get food.

It had to have been the strangest day of Harry's life.

But now it was over, and it was all he could see in his future.

0000

Draco hadn't anticipated that. Actually, he wasn't sure what he'd expected at all, but it definitely wasn't that.

He honestly felt bad for Potter.

For the longest time Draco had badgered and hated Potter for having a life Draco thought to be perfect.

Over the short amount of time he'd been stuck with Potter, Draco had discovered that life simply did not exist. And Draco didn't know what to think now.

He and Severus dined alone that night, Potter had retired early, begging off eating supper due to a lack of appetite. Potter hadn't eaten all day though, so Draco doubted the excuse.

"The school year will begin soon," Severus commented lightly, pulling Draco from his thoughts.

He waited expectantly for Severus to continue.

"I have given this much consideration," Severus began, setting his fork beside his plate and focused on Draco, "Originally, I had entertained keeping you out of school, but the Dark Lord is not stupid. If he were to find out your were not in classes, he needn't look far to figure out your location."

Draco stopped playing with his pasta, "What about my father?" Sweat beaded on his forehead. The chances of his father not hunting him down were slim to none. And if the Dark Lord wanted to kill him…

"You will not be unprotected. I have spoken with the Headmaster about the matter, I am merely informing you because it is your choice to make," said Severus.

Draco licked his lips nervously, "My choice?"

Severus pushed his plate away, folding his hands atop the table, "You can either return to classes, we will take precautions, I assure you, or you may remain here. I cannot deny that there will be a greater risk to you outside of my home, however, I understand your dislike for Mr. Potter, and while he may not have a choice in the matter, you do."

Stunned, Draco slumped back in his chair. He was worried, certainly, about living in Slytherin Tower, but he would be branded as a coward if he hid away. Then it occurred to Draco that Severus was willing to put his subterfuge at stake to appease him.

"I'll go back to classes," Draco said finally, for once, he sucked up the cowering fear he felt. "Thank you."

Severus nodded, and the conversation was over.

Later, after Severus had retired, Draco lied awake in his own bed, unable to sleep. He had left his door open, and across the hall he could see a thin band of light peeking from under Potter's door.

He told himself it was curiosity that roused him enough to tip toe to his door in the dark and knock. "Potter," he hissed against the wood before twisting the knob and easing it open. He peered around the door slowly, wrinkling his nose in disgust when he spotted Potter, lying flat on his back in his bed, wearing the same clothes he'd had on that morning.

"I don't suppose you'll get out if I tell you to, will you?" Potter said idly as he stared up at the ceiling, the fingers of his right hand tangling in a loose thread on his bed spread.

Draco slipped inside and shut the door behind him, "No, I won't." He replied snidely. "I'm bored. I haven't done anything but sit around all day, and now I can't sleep."

Potter rolled his head to stare at Draco, who had the decency to feel slightly ashamed of his complaining.

"Sorry," he muttered, crossing the room to sit in the chair at Potter's desk.

Potter went back to staring at the ceiling, "Sure."

Draco leaned his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his palms, "So," he said, struggling for words, now that he was here, he wasn't entirely certain what he should say. How did one speak to a person they'd spent the previous 5 years despising?

As he grappled for words, Potter rolled himself into a sitting position. "What were you and Snape talking about out there, at dinner?" asked Potter, reaching behind him to stack his pillows on top of one another.

Draco scowled, "You were eavesdropping?" he demanded, feeling mildly uneasy. What else had Potter overheard between himself and Severus?

Potter propped himself against the headboard, looking very ill as he did so, "No. I heard sounds and I wondered what they were."

Appeased, Draco shrugged, and trying to sound indifferent he said, "Severus says I can return to classes if I wish to."

Potter tipped his head back, breathing shallowly, "Lucky you."

"I suppose," mused Draco, "I'd rather stay here to be honest." He wasn't sure why he'd said that. Perhaps because he'd needed to tell someone, or perhaps because he had resigned himself to the fact that Potter was the only person he had anything in common with at this point in time.

"Why don't you? You said Snape gave you a choice, right?" Potter said faintly, shifting again until he was on his side, a pillow clutched to his chest.

Draco squinted at him, "Yeah, but he'd be risking his life if the Dark Lord ever-" he cut himself off as Potter began to cough.

He paused, waiting for the coughing fit to end. Only it didn't. Potter had curled up completely, his face buried in the pillow he held against his stomach to muffle the sounds.

Draco's palms began to sweat. "Should I-" he faltered, clearing his throat he tried again, "Should I get Severus or something?"

Potter didn't answer, but Draco went anyway, barely refraining from sprinting the short distance to Severus' room.

He rapped on the door sharply, "Severus? I think there's something-" for the second time that night he was cut off in the middle of his sentence.

Severus had yanked open the door, one hand still holding the ties to his navy blue robe. "Fetch a glass of water, Draco," he commanded, tying off his robe. Draco scurried into the kitchen, his fingers fumbling for the cupboard containing the glasses.

He nearly dropped the glass as he filled it when Severus brushed passed him for the medicine cabinet.

Draco placed the water on the counter, turning towards Severus, who was now holding a small orange bottle and reading the label.

"Take that to him, please," he murmured, still concentrated on whatever that little orange bottle had to say.

Draco picked up the water glass again, forcing himself to hold in his questions for later.

Back in Potter's room, he discovered that the coughing had stopped, but Potter rather looked like death warmed over as a result.

Draco neared the bed slowly, "Here," he thrust out his arm once he was close enough. Potter's eyes slid open, clouded with pain or fatigue, Draco couldn't be sure.

"Thanks," he murmured, painstakingly lifting himself onto an elbow, to take the water from Draco.

Potter sipped it slowly.

Feeling for some reason that he should reassure Potter, Draco found himself babbling about Severus finding medicine.

"It's muggle medicine though, I think. So I don't know how well it will work." he added, despite the heat crawling up his cheeks.

"Perfectly, I should hope." Severus appeared beside Draco, holding two pills in his hand, which he passed to Potter.

"For the pain. You should try to sleep immediately."

There was something strangely gentle in the way Severus spoke to Potter. It made Draco feel as though he shouldn't be there to witness this, but he couldn't very well leave now, could he?

"Thanks, Professor." Potter downed both pills in one go, settling back in his pillows.

"Wait for me in your room, Draco," said Severus, giving Draco a look that was clearly dismissive.

Draco spared Potter one more glance before turning his back.

Outside in the hall, he couldn't resist peeking around the door as he closed it, unsure of what he was expecting to see or hear.

It definitely wasn't Severus helping Potter under the covers though, and yet, that was exactly what he saw.

0000

Harry watched through mostly closed eyelids as Snape placed a small grey cube on his bedside table.

"Should you awake in the middle of the night and need assistance, squeeze this twice," Snape instructed. Harry nodded tiredly to show that he'd heard.

Snape crouched beside the bed, "Do not wait until the pain is too great for you to endure."

Harry made a non-committal sound, too weary to nod again. His body felt… strange. The constant itchy throat and stuffy nose remained, as always, but his throat burned whenever he coughed, and his stomach roiled unpleasantly.

"Do you understand?" Snape prompted, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder to shake him gently.

Harry forced his eyes open, "Yes. Thanks." A different version of himself would never have considered accepting such a favour, but the Harry of today felt much older and wiser.

Snape stood, removing his hand as he did so, "Sleep, Mr. Potter."