August 31, Day 12

The days following his first treatment are monotonous and uncomfortable.

Snape came in every morning to check his temperature and force him to eat and drink. He'd gotten Harry a new toothbrush with soft bristles, a cup with a built in straw, and even a scale to weigh himself on in the loo.

It's during one of those weeks when the words pop out of Harry's mouth. He hadn't even realised he'd been thinking them until after they're out. To be fair, Snape was kind of helping Harry off the floor in the lavatory where he'd been expelling his insides into the toilet.

Since then Snape's been calling him Harry. Didn't even make a fuss when Harry had awkwardly mumbled the request to be called by his first name. He'd even told Harry to call him Severus if he'd like to. (Harry still stuttered trying to say it though.)

Most days Harry stayed in bed, either too dizzy or too tired to get up. Snape forces him out for meals, but otherwise leaves him be. Sometimes Malfoy comes in to check on him, (Snape's orders,) they talk. Argue, really. But Harry was starting to think they're sort of, well, not friends, but also not enemies.

His whole world was just bonkers now.

It was August 31st. A day Harry usually spent bouncing on his toes waiting to go to Hogwarts the next day. Instead, Harry had stayed in bed the entire day, too sick to get up even for the dry toast and soup Snape usually threatened him into eating.

Malfoy and Snape were out last minute shopping. Something Snape hadn't been too happy about, but he hadn't had a chance to do much before then. What with Harry being borderline bedridden and all.

Much to Harry's surprise, Snape took looking after him very seriously. Harry had figured at first that Snape would be decent, at best. But they guy was really looking out for him. Right down to coaxing fluids and food into him, and making sure he didn't choke on his own vomit. (Not that Harry would, he hasn't completely lost all self-control.)

But eating and drinking for him was a problem right then. Most things tasted like metal now. Especially water. Snape had him try different things until he found something that agreed with Harry's new refined diet, which consisted of mostly dairy and bread.

See, the chemo had a lot of side-effects, some Harry hadn't even remembered until Snape had double checked the list Harry's oncologist had given them to make life easier.

The vomiting was unpleasant, but at least Harry could handle it most days. He just had to keep really still if he felt nauseated during the day. And Snape had antiemetic pills for him if that didn't work.

Actually, vain as it probably seemed, Harry was most worried about the hair loss. Snape had asked him if he'd like to have it chopped off all at once, before the shedding started, but at the time Harry couldn't answer.

He wasn't sure if shaving his hair now would be better or worse. It would still be gone, wouldn't it? And maybe a part of him wanted to see Ron and Hermione one last time before he got anymore strange and different.

He hadn't told them yet. Hadn't even written them since before all of this had happened. He hadn't written Aunt Petunia either. Not in the last two weeks. Harry wanted to see them in person, if that were possible. He'd been meaning to ask Snape about it, actually.

Well, that and the Occlumency training.

Snape hadn't said a word about it since he'd first told Harry they'd be resuming; and Harry hadn't plucked up the guts to ask.

His scar wasn't even stinging anymore. So he figured it wasn't a real pressing matter at the moment. He'd mention it today though, right after he asked about Ron and Hermione visiting after the Opening Feast.

Harry had made this decision in the shower, after finally dragging himself out of bed at 12 in the afternoon. Snape and Malfoy had left two hours earlier, disguised with charms to look like a brown haired, middle aged man and his son.

Snape had said he'd left food for Harry under a stasis charm in the kitchen, (and that if some of it wasn't eaten he'd be less than pleased.)

But the very thought of food was enough to make his stomach roil uncomfortably, so after Harry finished his shower, he dragged on a clean pair of pajamas and stationed himself on the couch with one of Snape's books.

In the time it took for Snape and Malfoy to return Harry had moved once to pour himself a glass of milk from the carton Snape had bought for him and left in the cold cupboard.

(Slowly but surely, Snape seemed to be collecting all the things he knew Harry would keep down or eat and drink without a fuss. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the consideration yet.)

Snape and Malfoy came through the door, (not the floo) laden with paper bags and parcels, still in the disguise they'd left in.

Harry placed his book on the coffee table beside his milk. "I take it Voldemort didn't find you?" he asked lightly. Malfoy jerked so hard he nearly dropped his bags. Oh. Harry thought, a little too late, that was probably in poor taste. Considering.

He did his best to look contrite when Snape shot him a look.

"Feel free to help, you lump," said Malfoy, taking the long way around the living room to the kitchen in order to shove Harry's leg on his way. "Most of this stuff is for you anyway."

Harry perked up. "Really?" he asked, slowly lifting himself off the couch. He felt better. But not by much. This happened sometimes. Good days and bad days. Or an hour or two on a bad day where he didn't feel like he'd just been hit by the Knight Bus.

He followed Malfoy into the kitchen where Snape was already putting away the groceries.

Harry picked through the bags on the table. "Did you go to muggle London today?" he inquired, lifting a can a vanilla flavored protein powder and shaking it from side to side to show Snape.

"Yes," Snape answered shortly, turning back to the cupboards to put away what looked like canned soup.

Harry came up beside him to inspect. "Hey, you didn't have to buy me all this food," he said, once he'd read the labels. "The house elves make tons of food as it is."

"Tons of food you don't eat," said Malfoy who, obviously feeling that he no longer needed to help, had sat down with his feet propped up on the table.

Snape rolled his eyes and swiped them off. "Do that again and I'll use a stinging hex," he warned, then, turning back to Harry said, "I'd rather you had food you can choose and make here. I won't always be home to use the floo for you, and you should be able to eat whenever you're hungry."

That made sense, Harry supposed. After all, what if he skipped breakfast and lunch, but was hungry before it was dinner time? So he shrugged, and said, "Thanks."

Then Snape spotted the uneaten food on the table.

0000

Draco had mostly come to terms with going back to school. Mostly. He'd started having nightmares a week ago -sometimes about his mum, other times about being murdered in his sleep in the Slytherin dorm, or kidnapped straight out of his bed and taken to the Dark Lord.

The dreams were warranted, he reasoned with himself whenever he awoke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.

After today though, he sort of felt calmer. Not so anxious. Severus could give really good advice when he wanted to.

He hadn't tried to make Draco talk about his problems. He'd simply put a hand on his shoulder outside of Flourish and Blotts and said, "Any time you feel that this is too much, no one who matters will mind if you take a break."

Draco had spent the rest of their day out thinking about what Severus had said. Because of 'no one who matters'. It had taken all day for Draco to realise that the only person who mattered now had just spent the entire day with him buying stuff for two boys he hadn't even fathered himself.

That sort of thing put other 'things' into perspective… and kind of made him feel… things.

So even though Draco had no idea where his dad was, or if he was even alive. He felt...okay. Not terrible, not great. Just. Okay.

And could he really ask to be anything else considering?

His feet smacked the floor roughly when Severus swiped them off the table. His heels were smarting, but he only smiled.

0000

Harry kind of loved and hated where his life was going. Whenever he got especially bored of laying around and reading all day, he made lists. One with pros, one with cons. Some with the names of all the people he'd eventually have to tell about his cancer. (That one was buried behind the crap in his desk drawer.)

Truth was, except for the cancer and the chemo and the general miserableness that came with being sick all the time and throwing up whenever he tried to eat or stand up, Harry was sort of...okay.

He wasn't an idiot though, and he knew he was mostly feeling that way because he'd been having a good day, but Harry tried to hang on to the okay-ness whenever he could.

Snape had forced broth and an anti-emetic pill into Harry before sending him back to bed with a book and the instructions to get some rest.

Malfoy had laughed at Harry because 'getting rest' was pretty much all Harry did ever. But Harry wasn't arguing. He slept because he was constantly tired, and when he wasn't tired he was too nauseous to get out of bed anyway.

"I'll be in to check on you later," said Snape, as Harry walked passed him into the sitting room.

Harry nodded, trailing a hand against the wall for balance. When Snape said 'check' he meant a series of things. He'd check Harry's temperature, ask him how he was feeling, make sure Harry's port wasn't getting an infection, give him pain relievers if his head was hurting, anti-emetics if he felt like vomiting, and a glass of milk or water if he was thirsty.

It was comforting. Harry hadn't thought he'd ever associate that word with Snape, but he couldn't deny the truth.

Harry went to the loo to clean up before bed, brushing his teeth with the extra soft toothbrush Snape had bought for him. He climbed into bed ten minutes later, dressed in his pajamas, struggling to keep his eyes open, lying atop his covers.

He could hear Snape and Malfoy talking, not what they were saying, just the hum of their voices. Harry yawned, blinked, then fell asleep.

0000

"What about the train," asked Draco, sitting on the couch, hands clutched together in his lap to hide the tremors.

Severus, one leg crossed over the other, sat in the armchair next to the fireplace, he looked up from the journal he used to track Potter's sickness. "I wouldn't advise it. We do not yet know which friends of yours are trustworthy."

Draco scoffed, "Friends?" he said derisively. "I can tell you right now. None. You know what it's like with Death Eater kids, we're all just pulling seniority based on whose father the Dark Lord liked best."

Severus nodded in understanding.

"They'd eat me alive. I have no idea what sort of position my father has now, but it can't be good. You and Dumbledore don't even have any idea where the Dark Lord is right now!" Draco snapped his mouth shut, bringing one shaking hand up to swipe away the perspiration breaking out on his forehead.

He forced himself to breathe normally, waving off Severus when he moved to stand.

"My mark hasn't burned at all. Not for a while. And I know yours hasn't either."

"It has not, and I'm afraid it would only stir suspicion if I were to inquire," said Severus, closing the journal.

Draco puffed out a breath. "Great, well, guess I'll just have to watch my back." He tried to shrug off the tight feeling in his chest.

Severus leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, eyes boring into Draco's, "You are welcome to stay down here and complete your work. I am more than able to speak with your teachers about your…" Severus paused, obviously looking for the right way to say, 'cowardice'. "Situation." He continued, but Draco was already shaking his head.

No matter how scared he'd never admit to being, Draco couldn't stay down here. Severus already had one practically helpless person to worry about. And Draco wasn't even trying to be mean, Potter couldn't use magic, could barely walk without reeling, or eat without throwing it up.

He can't just expect Severus to look out for him too. Not when Draco can look after himself.

Severus sighed and stood, "The offer remains open, should you change your mind." He walked by Draco on the settee, and for a split second, rest his hand on the top of Draco's head. "I will wake you in time for breakfast," he said, then left.

0000

Harry awoke to a rustling sound and the feeling of someone pulling his sheets out from under him. "Wazgoinon?" he mumbled, face still pressed into his pillow. Hands rolled him over, sheets were pulled up to his shoulders. Harry blinked blearily, the person was fuzzy, but Harry could make out long dark hair and a hooked nose.

"Go back to sleep," said Snape.

0000

September 1st, Day 13

Harry slumped at the breakfast table across from Malfoy, both of them picking at their bowls of oatmeal.

Snape had checked his temperature this morning and found out Harry was running a little hot, so instead of leaving him to his bed and his sleep, Harry was up eating breakfast so he could take his medicine.

Only oatmeal tasted like aluminium these days. And so did orange juice.

"Eat. Both of you," said Snape, lowering his newspaper and setting it beside his empty bowl.

Harry sighed, scooped up a spoonful, and took a small bite off the tip. He raised his eyes to find Snape watching him, he shrugged in response. "It tastes like coins," he said, shrugging again.

It was Snape's turn to sigh, "What doesn't taste funny?" he asked tiredly.

Harry felt bad, but answered anyway. "Uhm, toast?"

"You need to eat something with some sort of nutritional value," Snape rebuked, rising from the table. Harry watched as he opened the cold cupboard and took out a carton of eggs. Snape raised it towards Harry in question.

"I guess," said Harry. He hadn't had eggs yet, maybe they'd be okay.

Malfoy, who had slumped in his chair and given up all pretense, kicked Harry's shin under the table to get his attention. "Why does everything taste funny to you?" he asked.

He looked genuinely curious, so even though Harry automatically felt the need for a defensive retort, he answered.

"It's the chemotherapy," he explained, "Makes a lot of stuff taste like metal."

Malfoy made a face, "That's… unfortunate."

Harry cracked a smile, "Yeah," he snorted, "Tell me about it. Actually," he turned to look at Snape again, who was cracking an egg into a pan, "If I'm sick, will I still be able to get chemo?"

Snape pulled a spatula out of a drawer, turning around to lean his back against the counter, "It depends."

"On what?" Harry asked, propping his feet up on Snape's chair, scooting down in his own enough for his head to hit the back of his.

Snape scrambled the egg in the pan, "On whether or not we can get rid of that temperature today, and if you're actually coming down with something or just running hot. If you go over 100.4 degrees, or have any of the other symptoms, I'll have to take you in."

Harry made a face, "What was my temperature when you checked earlier?"

Snape flipped his egg onto a plate and set it in front of Harry, "99.1," he said, giving Harry a fork, "Now eat. Take the fever reducer and the vitamins, and tell me if you are experiencing any of the symptoms on the list I gave you this morning."

Harry poked his egg with his fork, "Yes sir."

0000

Draco stood in the lavatory beside his room, examining his face in the mirror. He'd been sort of irritated at first, that Potter had gotten the real bedroom, and Draco only had the study-turned-bedroom, but he'd realised shortly after Potter's first treatment why he'd need a bathroom inside his room.

Draco straightened his school robes with hands that were pale and shaky. He wondered if people could tell how terrified he was just by looking at his face. It had occurred to him, several times in the last few hours before the arrival of the Hogwarts Express, that this may very well be his last day in Severus' quarters.

Call him dramatic, but Draco wasn't going to underestimate his classmates. Death Eater kids would do anything to gain the Dark Lord's, (or their parents) favor. If anyone knew that, it was him.

His face looked paler than usual.

Draco pinched his cheeks.

They are inferior to you, he told himself. Act above them, and they will not question you.

Draco breathed in. Breathed out. His hands stopped shaking.

0000

Laid up in bed after a shower in cold water and another choked down meal, Harry stared at the orbs of light floating near the ceiling.

For the first time since the flying car fiasco in his second year, he wouldn't be riding the train to Hogwarts.

In fact, he wasn't even allowed outside of these rooms to any other part of the castle without Snape.

He missed Hogwarts.

A knock brought him away from his self-pity. Malfoy stood in the doorway, dressed in Slytherin robes, an expression of practiced aloofness on his face. Harry's lips twisted in envy.

"Come to gloat?" he jeered, turning his head back to the ceiling.

The taunt was uncalled for, he realized. Malfoy hadn't said so much as a word about being able to go back to school when Harry could not.

Malfoy sauntered all the way in, plopping himself on the foot of Harry's bed, ignoring the weak kick Harry aimed at his thigh. "No, actually. I came to ask how you were."

Harry raised himself up on his elbows to get a good look at Malfoy, "Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

Malfoy let out a short laugh, "I don't know what happened to me either. I should be rejoicing in your suffering," he said, shaking his head and smiling to himself.

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Harry lied back down against his pillows. "I guess this is what happens when you lock three people in a room for weeks on end. Maybe this was Dumbledore's plan all along because he was sick of listening to me complain about you and Snape complain about me."

They both laughed this time.

"I'm fine though," said Harry with a sigh, "No fever, no chest pain or any other thing on this laundry list of things to watch out for." He picked up the list Snape had left on his night table.

Malfoy reached a hand out, "Let me see that."

Harry passed it to him. "Those are all the hospital worthy chemo side-effects. We're supposed to call my health team if I experience any of them."

Malfoy perused the paper with a pinched brow, "Your health team?" he inquired.

A tickle itched at Harry's throat and he raised an arm to cough into his elbow. "Yeah. Healer Beesley, Ms. Hemmingway, my oncologist, Dr. John."

Malfoy nodded, passing back the sheet. "If you, uh, want company when you're, you know, doing treatments, I wouldn't mind, uh," he cleared his throat, "you know."

Harry's eyebrows climbed up his forehead, "Malfoy," he breathed dramatically, "Are you offering to sit by bedside and hold my hand? Be still my heart!" Harry placed a hand over his heart.

Malfoy scowled at him, "Fine. But Severus will probably have grading to do so if you want to sit there for hours bored out of your mind, be my guest."

That wiped the grin from Harry's face. "Okay. Yeah. My next one's on the 8th."

Malfoy nodded, fiddled with the front of his robes, "Do your friends know yet?"

Harry grimaced, "No… I've been meaning to ask Snape if I could have them down here tonight after the feast."

"He'll probably say yes."

Frowning, Harry looked away from Malfoy. "I don't know if I want him to."

"Want who to what?"

Both their heads snapped to the doorway, where Snape stood, leaning against the wall.

Harry let out a breath, "Want you to let Hermione and Ron down here to see me so I can, you know, fill them in."

Snape strode into the room, pulling Harry's chair from his desk to sit on. "And you don't want me to approve because…?"

Harry made a face, "They'll kill me for not saying something sooner," he muttered, playing with a loose string on his comforter. "And Ron will have a fit because I've been down here with two Slytherins this whole time."

Malfoy scoffed, "That ginger-haired imbecile couldn't comprehend an emergency even if he did have more than two brain cells to rub together," he said derisively.

Harry kicked at him again, "You don't know Ron, so don't say stuff about him."

Malfoy crossed his arms, but kept his mouth closed.

Snape cleared his throat, "Actually, your friends have been hounding the headmaster and every Order member they can since the attack on your home. So they will be coming down here tonight after the feast. I'm afraid you must face your fears."

Harry blew out a breath. "I guess it's better they see me now. Before my hair falls out."

"Before what?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

"Before my hair falls out. It's another side effect to one of the drugs in the chemo." It felt easy to explain these things to Malfoy. Way easier than thinking about them himself, or imagining them happening.

"If you'd rather," interrupted Snape, "We could go out to muggle London, look for some caps and have it all cut off in one go."

Exhibit A, right there, Harry felt his palms go clammy. "I-I dunno," he stuttered, "I have to, um, think about it."

Malfoy leaned sideways on the bed, holding himself up on his elbow, head supported by his hand. He squinted at Harry. "Cut it off in one go. And wear those beanie, winter hats. It won't look that bad."

"Easy for you to say," muttered Harry mutinously, "You aren't the one losing all your hair."

"The hair will grow back when you finish the treatments," said Snape, in the weird almost soothing way he spoke to Harry whenever it came to his health.

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position against the headboard. "That depends on whether the cancer is gone when this is all over," he pointed out. "What if I have to go through another round right after?"

Snape massaged the space between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, "Then we'll keep doing what we already are."

Yeah, sure. Miss another year of school, watch all his friends graduate, hide from Voldemort. That's exactly what Harry wanted to keep doing.

"Harry," called Snape, "Focus on getting better, not on things you can't help."

0000

Slytherin had gained 4 new students this year. 2 of which were actually muggleborns, Draco was sure. He hadn't seen Crabbe or Goyle yet, as a Prefect he'd had to sit by the first years and lead them out of the hall. It was only a matter of time now though, he couldn't exactly hide in the Common Room.

"Well, if it isn't Draco Malfoy."

Draco turned, behind him stood Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy. Fantastic.

They stood bunched together, arms crossed, sly and gloating expressions on their faces.

Draco clenched his jaw. "What're you lot staring at? Don't have anything better to do?"

Zabini's chuckle was so condescending Draco had to force himself not to punch him right in the fat mouth.

Cut your losses, he scolded himself, focus on what you can do.

"Crabbe, Goyle, did your parents go on that double vacation they had planned for the summer hols?" he asked assertively. Act like you're superior and they will believe you are.

Crabbe and Goyle blinked at him, Zabini raised an eyebrow, Pansy, well, Pansy was Pansy, she simpered.

"Uhhh, no." said Goyle, finally.

But the job was done, Crabbe moved from behind Zabini to talk to Draco about how his mother tried to make him take summer courses from a tutor in potions and defense, and the others followed.

Except Zabini, who stood by the fireplace, staring at Draco with a cold, calculating smile. He'd have to watch his back there.

Draco leaned casually against the arm of his chair, watching, listening, deflecting, and pretending.

0000

Harry sat in the armchair closest to the fire, stomach twisting with anxiety. Any minute now and he'd have to tell Ron and Hermione about his cancer.

How did you tell someone that?

'Hey guys, I have cancer and I can't use magic because it's weird and tangled and confusing, but uh, I'm living with Snape and he's nice, oh and Malfoy's not so bad, and I might lose all my hair in the next week!'

Harry passed a sweaty hand over his face.

He wasn't ready to do this. He wanted to ask Snape to tell them for him. He had a headache and a sore back and an itchy spot on his arm and an unsettled stomach. And Hermione was going to panic and then go on a research binge, and Ron was going to shout, and damn it, Harry was tired, okay?

And he missed his friends, and Hogwarts, and Aunt Petunia, and how being healthy felt.

Oh Merlin, a lump was forming in his throat. Harry pressed his knuckles into his eyes, willing himself to calm down-to stop panicking.

The fireplace crackled green, Harry tensed. Snape came through first, long black teachers robes billowing around him, he gave Harry what could almost pass for a reassuring look, and stepped aside just as Hermione and Ron came tumbling out.

0000

Draco slept with his wand clutched in his hand, imperturbable charms around his closed curtains, and one eye open.

0000

"So it's a muggle disease?" asked Ron, head tilted to the side, eyes rimmed red.

Hermione had cried first, and somehow Harry and Ron had both gotten something in their eyes at the same time.

Harry blew out a breath, pushing his socked feet against Hermione's. They were sitting on his bed, Ron against the footboard, Harry and Hermione side by side against the headboard. "Yeah," he said. "Apparently my mom had it when she was little, but, I don't know, something about her magic overcoming it or something."

Hermione tilted her head to lay on his shoulder, "How come your magic doesn't just 'overcome' it?" she said softly.

Harry blew her hair out of his face, "I dunno. Snape and Dumbledore have some theories, but we've sort of decided the 'why' isn't important right now. Just me getting better."

"Well, good." said Ron, shaking his head in disbelief, "You can't catch a bloody break, can you?"

Harry laughed, "Nope. But at least I got Aunt Petunia and Dudley out of it, right?" He was trying to inject some levity, but Ron only nodded, and Hermione just squeezed his hand and said, "Right."

He breathed in deeply, "Look, guys, I'm gonna be fine. Just… sick for a while. Chemotherapy has worked on tons of people before, and cancer isn't all that new. So, I'll just lay low, do what my doctor says, and get better."

Harry marveled at his ability to act like he wasn't a panicked mess.

Hermione lifted her head off his shoulder to kiss his cheek; Harry blushed.

"Tell us when your treatments are. We'll come visit," she told him.

"D'you think we can?" Ron asked, nudging Harry's toes with his own.

Harry shrugged, "I'll ask Snape, but I don't see why not."

Ron nodded his head, "Good."

Neither Ron nor Hermione had said anything about him living with Snape yet. Neither of them. Not a single word.

Harry wondered if it was because Dumbledore had had a word with them already, or if they figured there were bigger fish to fry.

They sat in silence for a while after that. Harry fell asleep, eventually, with Hermione's head still on his shoulder and Ron's feet hitting his everytime he moved them. He wondered how Malfoy had fared against Slytherin, when Snape would make his friends leave, if chemo the second time would be harder than the first.

Hermione shifted against him, Ron bumped his feet again, and Harry stopped wondering.