~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was so tired of waking up with his body aching all over. It seemed like that was how he most often woke up lately, however this was far worse than most of those other times. His head was pounding into his ears, his throat was dry and sore, and each time he took a breath it still felt like a hippogriff was sitting on top of his chest. This was worse then the end of term last year when the leukemia had started and worse then when he'd started chemotherapy; this time he was sure he was dying.

Managing to crack his eyes open, Harry wasn't surprised when he couldn't make out a single thing in the room since it was not only blurry from his lack of glasses, it was also so dark it could only be in the middle of the night. A candle was set on top of the bedside table - flickering almost in tandem with his labored breaths - and he could tell there was at least one lantern lit somewhere in the room further away from wherever it was he slept.

Fear swept through his weak body as he took in the observations around him. Based on the feel of the bed and blanket where he was laying, he guessed pretty easily that he was in the hospital wing, as he'd been there plenty of times during his years at Hogwarts. Thinking back though, he had no idea why he was here - was he sick or hurt - how he had gotten here or how long he had been unconscious. Deciding he needed to get his glasses before trying to solve anything else, he reached towards the candle light and found that yet again he had an IV in both his right arm and his port, plus this time, something was pulling at his nose. Except now that he thought about it, the thing in his nose was helping him breathe just a little easier. All-in-all, none of this was a good sign.

What's the last thing I remember?

He didn't think it had been a chemo day, except he wasn't sure of anything anymore. Then he thought he remembered Hermione might have been over, but they hadn't been studying... his classes were cancelled? How long ago was all of that?

I was feeling sick that day. Not chemo-sick though... Ugh, I still feel sick.

Laying his head back against the pillow on his bed, Harry tried to fall back asleep unsure of the exact time and how long he had until dawn. Unfortunately, there wasn't a position he could lay in that would stop his head from pounding or help make his lungs breathe any better. He tossed and turned for what seemed like an hour before he heard a door open and someone speaking from the other side of the curtain.

"I don't see how that's possible," the deep voice of Snape said quietly.

"I can see to the arrangements and make it possible Severus," Albus said with a voice laced with sadness. "It's been this long, a couple more weeks will not make much difference in the long run."

Harry could feel a cough tickling at the back of his throat and tried to hold it off as long as possible because he wanted to know what the two professors were talking about. In the end, he couldn't hold it in and the still rough, wet cough could be heard echoing across the walls of the hospital wing followed closely by another two. He struggled to inhale after the final one and had to coax himself to calm down so the oxygen could finally reach his lungs. The curtain was then suddenly ripped open to reveal Snape and Dumbledore looking in on him as if they expected him to be asleep and quite possibly dead by now.

"Morning," Harry tried to say, however all that came out was a scratchy nonsense syllable. His throat felt like there was sandpaper scratching against the sides whenever he tried to speak.

Snape walked over to the bedside table and handed Harry his glasses. Without another word, he conjured a goblet and filled it with water, then helped to hold Harry up so he could get a good drink from it. The young wizard could feel the water entering almost every cell in his body as if he hadn't had anything to drink in days - which may very well have been the truth - and the lukewarm water felt like bliss coating his dry throat.

"Thank you," he said, his voice was still scratchy, but this time at least he could be heard. "What happened?"

Harry could see the relief in Snape's eyes and somehow he knew that while he'd been awake before, it wasn't enough to make a coherent sentence. Now though, he could sense something bad had happened to him to cause that reaction.

"You've been very sick Harry," Snape replied simultaneously waving his wand to run a diagnostic charm, which Harry distinctly felt the tickle of. "You've been more or less unconscious for thirteen days... It is the early morning hours of the 24th. How are you feeling?"

Thirteen days?!

That was the longest amount of time he'd ever lost at once and by saying "more or less unconscious" meant he had been awake at some point. How could he not remember any of it?

Gathering up as much energy as he could, the Gryffindor said, "I'm really sore... And it's hard to breathe. Where's Healer Smithe? What time is it?"

Harry wanted to ignore the look that passed between the two men over his bed; he got the feeling there was something going on. He pushed up carefully so he was sitting up in the bed and laid his head back hoping for a position that didn't hurt his insides.

"Your healer, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Snape have been rotating their care of you," Dumbledore explained sitting in the chair to the left of Harry's bed, "Professor Snape has exclusively taken the overnights; it's about three in the morning right now. I must say Harry, it is a great relief to see you up and speaking."

Harry nodded, what else was he supposed to do in a situation like this? The tickle on the diagnostic charm had finished and Snape was looking pleased with the results.

"Everything looks normal given what you went through," he said sitting down - clearly exhausted himself - in the chair. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Erm..." Even after Harry had just gone through this in his own mind, he had a hard time recalling what it was he remembered last. "Hermione was over... But I don't think we were studying."

"No you would not have been," Snape confirmed, "I had cancelled all of your classes that day. Do you remember how you were feeling?"

"Sick... I definitely felt sick that day," the young wizard remembered, "I had a hard time breathing and was wondering why I was so bad when it wasn't even a day I had chemo. Or at least I don't think I did-"

"You had pneumonia," the dark haired professor interrupted with a tremble in his voice. "We had never discussed the importance of notifying me when you were feeling ill in a way different than the chemotherapy side effects. You needed a blood transfusion for additional white blood cells in order to fight off the infection, and even that did not work the first time."

"M Sorry sir," Harry mumbled; he didn't know why he felt embarrassed about the situation, it wasn't like he did it on purpose.

In fact, his brain was still fuzzy on the details, but he thought he had gone to Snape when he realized he wasn't feeling well. It was hard to keep everything straight in his head and it didn't help that his eyes were getting heavy again. If Snape was doing the night shift now, he would be asleep when Harry woke up and he really didn't want to miss speaking to the professor. In the end though, he couldn't keep his eyes open and he was enveloped into the darkness.

"...was awake..."

"Shhhh..."

Harry could hear the distinct murmuring of his two best friends around him as his brain was coming out of the clouds and back into consciousness. His body was still aching and his chest was still tight, yet somehow he felt better overall. Through his eyelids, he could see the bright sunlight filtering in from the window above his head and it was almost reenergizing to him. As he was attempting to open his eyes, he heard another voice he recognized and never expected to hear by his bedside in the Hogwarts' hospital wing.

"Don't you both have class right now?"

It was Dudley... Talking to his two best friends as if he'd known them forever, meaning somehow in the last two weeks, his two worlds had officially collided. Gaining enough strength he opened his eyes, squinting against the bright September sunlight.

"Aren't you in the wrong school?" Harry asked certain only a fraction could actually be heard from his cracked voice. Sitting up on his left elbow - his IV was in the right arm - he reached over for his glasses. As always, Hermione beat him to it and placed them on his face for him.

"It's nice to see you actually awake for once," she said sitting down on his bed and grabbing his hand. "We were all so worried about you."

"I'm fine 'Mione," he said, trying his hardest to reassure the witch without knowing for sure that he was actually going to be fine. He still didn't really know what had happened, only that he had pneumonia.

"I don't know about that Mate," Ron spoke up, "you haven't really been all with it in almost two weeks. Sure you've been conscious here and there, but you weren't really here...if y'know what I mean."

"Great explanation Ron," he tried to laugh, but ended up in a coughing fit instead. Once he recovered, Harry turned to Dudley and asked, "How'd you get here? What's going on?"

"Oh," Dudley turned bright red, "Um, your headmaster came to get me the second night you were sick."

Harry closed his eyes focusing on the words he had heard. Did Dudley really drop everything just to come to Hogwarts - in Scotland - because Harry was ill?

"Harry," Hermione said softly, drawing his attention back towards her, "Dudley donated blood for you. Professor Snape refused to allow an unknown donor and he was a match. You actually needed blood several times and each one came from your cousin."

The small teenager could feel his breath shaking every time he exhaled. Dudley hadn't just come to see Harry, he saved his life... and more than once. Now he was sitting in a castle full of magic talking to two of the people Harry cared about most. It was like he woke up in a different world... which reminded him-

"Where's Severus?"

This time Ron managed to keep his cool at the use of Snape's given name. What had happened while he was sick?

"He's probably sleeping," his cousin responded confidently. "We don't know what's going on... they always have someone on watch and Professor Snape took all the night shifts. I think the only way he'd leave this chair to sleep was if he went during the day while there were plenty of other people to stay with you. He'd never leave your side otherwise."

Ron and Hermione were both nodding their heads. As if there wasn't already a lot to take in, at that moment Madam Pomfrey stuck her head around the curtain.

"Ah, Mr. Potter!" She exclaimed pushing Hermione unceremoniously out of his bed, "Severus and the headmaster said you had woken up last night; it's good to see you myself."

She immediately started fussing around him, waving her wand every which way running all different types of diagnostic spells and checking the bags of medication on the IV stand. Harry almost laughed at all the different tickles that ran through his body; most being focused on his lungs. He managed to hold back simply because he didn't want to end up in a coughing fit again.

"Aren't you two supposed to be in classes?" The medi-witch asked, to the other Gryffindors.

"Professor McGonagall excused us from them today on account of Harry waking up," Hermione said to which Madam Pomfrey simply huffed.

Harry knew he must have been very sick if Hermione skipped classes just because he woke up. He could see Ron jumping at the chance, however Hermione would normally have waited until a free period or maybe even after classes to visit.

"How much longer will I need to stay here?" He knew it was premature to ask, showing just how much he hated staying in the hospital wing.

"Since you came very close to dying at least twice in these last thirteen days, I should keep you here until that cough is completely gone," she lectured and Harry's eyes widened. He had a feeling she was serious about it this time and that the cough could still take a while to go away.

"I'm going to call Healer Smithe and let him know you've woken up," the medi-witch explained. Harry thought she sounded hesitant, but he brushed it off. "Why don't you three head down for lunch?"

It was not a suggestion. However, that didn't stop Ron from attempting to convince her that they should stay, "I think we should be allowed to eat here; he just woke up!"

One look from the stern matron told them all they needed to know, and the three teenagers left with a promise to come right back after lunch. Madam Pomfrey followed the three visitors out from around the curtain, leaving just enough open for Harry to see out across the room. He inhaled rapidly at the sight of Ginny sitting up in bed working on her school assignments. This was the first time he'd gotten to see her awake and he wanted nothing more than to go over to her and apologize for everything she went through. The only problem was that with the IVs and the oxygen he wasn't sure exactly how to get there, plus having been unconscious for 13 days he wasn't sure he physically had the strength to get there either. Not only that, he was 100% sure Madam Pomfrey would have a fit over him getting out of bed so soon.

"Why good morning Harry!" Healer Smithe's voice was a welcome break from the thoughts running rampant in his head. His healer walked in followed very closely by Madam Pomfrey.

"Morning," he sheepishly replied, "or I guess it's afternoon."

Healer Smithe laughed and went to work adjusting Harry's IVs. Madam Pomfrey had a small notebook and was looking over everything as if she were his apprentice. Maybe she would be taking a more active role as his treatments progressed?

That brought his thoughts back to the leukemia. If he had been asleep for two weeks, he had probably missed two of his treatments. Even worse, he should have been doing the last chemo for phase one of consolidation; meaning he'd literally lost almost two weeks worth of progress - a thought that thoroughly depressed him.

Healer Smithe and Madam Pomfrey went through everything that had happened medically to him since he contracted the pneumonia. His blood counts had reached back up to an acceptable level- for him anyway - which led into an explanation about the blood transfusions. They thoroughly explained why Dudley was brought to Hogwarts and how his cousin had asked to stay at least until Harry was recovered from the pneumonia. Neither adult mentioned anything about his chemotherapy schedule nor his cancer in general.

Once all the medical updates and tests were completed, Madam Pomfrey brought Harry a tray with a bowl of chicken broth and bread for lunch. Even though it had been long enough since his last chemo to where he should have been at least a little hungry, he still wasn't and had to force himself to eat the broth. Maybe once all of this was over he would get at least one good meal before chemotherapy started again.

As promised, Ron, Hermione, and Dudley came back after they had lunch in the Great Hall. Harry didn't want to admit this to anyone yet, but he was extremely happy to see Dudley again and proud of the other teen for stepping up to help Harry. It was only a couple of months ago when Harry was sure Dudley would have left him to die before venturing to Hogwarts.

"Oh Harry!" Ron called out during a chess game he had started with Dudley; something Hermione said they had gotten used to playing in the time Dudley had been at Hogwarts, "We have Quidditch tryouts on Sunday!"

Harry laughed at Ron's excitement, "I kind of thought it was obvious that I can't play this year Ron." While Harry had come to terms with the limitations that would be set upon him this year, he knew Ron previously had a more difficult time coming to terms with it all.

"I know that," the red-headed mumbled quietly, "I just thought... maybe you'd like to still come and watch."

Harry contemplated what Ron was asking. On the one hand, he was still technically immunocompromised and was still recovering from pneumonia; where he stood today there was no way Snape was letting him out of their quarters, let alone out of the castle. On the other hand, by Sunday he might be able to convince the man to let him out for just a little while on the premise that his blood counts were positive and it would be good for his mental health. He doubted they'd be doing chemo on Saturday, so it was really the last chance before that all started again.

"I'll ask Severus once I have a better idea of what's going on with my chemo schedule," Harry explained with an enthusiasm in him caused from at least having a chance to go outside... no matter how minuscule it was.

"Dudley, where are you sleeping while you're staying at the castle? You're not taking my spot in the tower are you?" Harry was joking, of course, and it felt refreshing to do so.

"Not at all," his cousin replied, "I'm in some kind of guest quarters around the corner. It's where Ron's mum stayed for a while."

Oh.

Harry had forgotten about that. Thinking about Ginny dampened his mood a little. At some point he'd have to talk to her about everything that had gone on; so much had happened since then and he really wanted to forget about it all at the same time.

"So what do you do all day?" The young wizard asked Dudley; clearly he couldn't attend any courses here. "Like when everyone else has been in class?"

"Professor Dumbledore has me helping out in Professor Burbage's classes," Dudley answered, making a chess move even Harry recognized was not a good one, especially against Ron. This would be a quick game.

"Muggle studies?"

Dudley shook his head and then started talking about all the different ways he's been assisting in the class. Having never taken Muggle Studies, it was actually really interesting to hear and Harry was sure Uncle Vernon was rolling over in his grave; Aunt Petunia would have likely been ok with it, if only for Dudley's sake. No matter how pathetic Harry thought it was, it hurt him to think about how different his upbringing would have been had Dudley randomly gotten a letter from Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia might have finally accepted Harry, and as his blood relative, she was really the only one that mattered to him. The exhaustion was catching up with Harry and without even realizing it, the young wizard had fallen asleep mid-conversation with his cousin.

During his impromptu nap, Harry dreamed about restarting classes and trying to stay caught up with the material. In his dream, he was relieved that it seemed all the other students had already known about his cancer and mostly let him be. He could only hope for his real transition back to classes went as smooth as his dream had been.

Then the dream morphed right into one about attending a Quidditch match where he was clearly sick from post chemotherapy, but was determined to sit in the stands with Hermione and Dudley to cheer on his team - with Ginny having replaced him as their seeker. Somewhere on top of all the visual aspects of his dreams, he could hear the words " love him Lily... Like he's still my son" whispered almost inaudibly. He'd heard that at some point, but couldn't place when. They were such bittersweet dreams to be immersed in that he never wanted to wake up until he could go back to classes again and feel just a little bit more normal.

Harry ended up staying in the hospital wing through the end of the week. Since Snape refused to stop taking the night shift on whatever "Harry Watch" the Order was requiring while he was there, the Gryffindor had seen very little of the man, startling him for complicated reasons. Most of his days were spent working on school work that he'd missed, with each of tutors stopping by for truncated lessons each day; sleeping; or hanging out with Dudley who seemed more than a little excited to be around all the magic, genuinely surprising Harry. Ron and Hermione stopped by every night after dinner and the four of them would either continue studying or simply get caught up on what had happened in the two weeks Harry missed.

On Friday afternoon, Healer Smithe performed another bone marrow biopsy to see if any of the Leukemia had re-emerged from missing the two weeks of chemotherapy. Harry absolutely hated the bone marrow biopsies and was not looking forward to more of them in his future. The Gryffindor was alarmed to think that it was possible for the cancer cells to take over so quickly again and he vowed to try everything he could to stay healthy - even if it meant wearing that stupid mask - going forward so this might not happen again. The absolute last thing he wanted was to have to go backwards in his recovery.

He also found himself wondering - for the first time since his diagnosis - what would happen when all of this was over. When he had his last chemotherapy three years from now and he took his last tablet medication, how long would it take before he could relax and truly believe the cancer was gone? Could they even say for sure the cancer was gone? He knew all the statistics, but those didn't ease the anxiety he was feeling about how unknown his future was. He had a feeling he would be plagued with worry for a long time after everything was over, if he were lucky enough to make it that far.

On Friday evening, once he was ready to go back down to Snape's quarters, he finally had the chance to talk to Ginny. They'd caught glimpses of each other through the curtains all week and Mrs. Weasley had relayed important messages back and forth, but they had not gotten a chance to actually talk to each other.

Now that Harry was no longer connected to the oxygen and the IVs, he walked over to Ginny's bed and sat down in the chair that Mrs. Weasley usually used. The Gryffindor witch was sitting up in her bed that was covered in parchment and textbooks. While most of Ginny's injuries had healed, she still had a dark purple scar that ran the length of her cheek from where the awful cut had been. It would be a permanent reminder of this horrible ordeal she had to go through all because of Harry.

"Hey stranger," the young witch said smiling at him and then boldly reaching out to straighten his cap, "seems like you've had a rough start to the school year too."

Harry was embarrassed; this was his first time seeing her since the Leukemia diagnosis and starting chemotherapy, "I'd rather not talk about that if it's ok with you."

"Yeah, of course," Ginny said awkwardly. She was hesitant to bring up anything else, afraid it would make her friend feel worse about himself and his situation.

"I'm so sorry Ginny," Harry had said it to her every time he'd come to visit her during the week before the muggle fight with Ron took place, but it felt better to say it when he knew she could hear him; so she could truly understand how bad he felt about the whole thing.

"Harry," Ginny replied in a demanding way he should not have been surprised to hear. She took a hold of his left hand and Harry thought about how soft it felt in his own, "Just don't, ok? I'm going to tell you not to blame yourself and you're going to want to anyways. I know exactly how you think, so let's just skip all that. I'm going to be alright."

Harry couldn't really deny what she was saying, he would probably continue to blame himself. Yes, he'd heard it time and time again that he didn't cause anything, however that didn't change the fact that the Death Eaters had been trying to find him, and it was enough.

Instead, they chatted idly about the new school year; how Ginny was already behind the year of her O.W.L.s and she wasn't sure how she would be able to catch up and Harry could understand that. When they were deep in a conversation about if Gryffindor had any chance of winning the Quidditch cup without Harry as the seeker, Healer Smithe came into the hospital wing going straight into Madam Pomfrey's office, with Snape directly on his heels asking Harry to follow him to the floo, where they both headed back to dungeons.

To Harry, arriving back in the dungeons felt like going home; even more so than when he had arrived back at Hogwarts each of the previous years. It was a new feeling for Harry and a very confusing feeling at the same time. Now he was able to admit to himself that this was his home - at least until he was no longer a Hogwarts student - for as long as Snape would let him live there.

While he'd been getting stronger each day and it was slowly getting easier to breathe, the young wizard sat down on the familiar sofa almost prepared to take a nap. His eyes were closing and his brain was getting a little foggy, when Snape gave Harry a stern look which told him he needed to pay attention to what was going on. Working against his body's urge to sleep, Harry sat up on the sofa to focus.

The floo roared to life several times, filling the small sitting room with - in addition to himself and Snape - Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Healer Smithe. Something about the atmosphere felt good to Harry and while the news could go either way, his intuition said this was going to be good news.

"Your blood work is looking great Harry," the healer said, starting out straight away once everyone was seated. "The blood transfusion was a success and your cell counts are continuing to increase at a rate we'd expect."

Harry couldn't contain his smile. Finally something was going right and he had Dudley to thank for it. A fact that still amazed him days after its discovery.

"I also have the results from your bone marrow biopsy we did this afternoon," the healer pulled out several pieces of paper and handed them around to everyone. As usual, Harry had no idea what it meant and he wondered if Dumbledore or McGonagall were also just as clueless. Snape, on the other hand, took a half a glance at the results and nodded his head.

How much studying on Leukemia has Snape actually done?

"Unlike the one we did after induction, this time we are simply looking to make sure the numbers aren't returning," the healer continued, "And I'm happy to say you're still in remission, so it appears if we've lost any time, it's minimal. At this point I'm not recommending any additional rounds added to the first consolidation phase."

This news almost made Harry happier than when they won the Quidditch cup in his third year. He had spent the last four days worrying in his head that he had gone backwards and that wasn't the case at all! Harry turned towards Snape and saw the same sight of relief in the man's black eyes. The professor had been just as concerned as Harry had and that thought warmed the Gryffindor from the inside; he wasn't alone in all of this.

"So what's next?" The youngest wizard asked jumping straight in with a new found energy. "I still have three weeks of the first consolidation right?"

"That is correct," Healer Smithe said, handing out yet another paper; his revised chemotherapy schedule. "You'll restart consolidation with the IT plus five hours next Saturday, the 5th of October followed by the three days of the four hour IV chemotherapy Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. Those are the hardest on you, so do try to remember that it will be the last of those medications until near the end of phase 3. The following two Saturdays, you'll do the IT plus one hour, putting the end of your first part of consolidation on the 19th of October."

"Can I go back to classes after that?" Harry asked impatiently. Knowing it would be a big adjustment to restart classes and he had a lot of catching up to do in the next three weeks, he was still ready to get back to his normal life.

"We'll keep an eye on your blood counts, but I'm penciling in the 28th to restart classes," Harry's heart dropped. That was almost an extra ten days. "The next phase of consolidation - also known as interim maintenance - will start on Friday the 25th. We'll go through the exact timetable as we get closer, however since these will be spaced out more and have less of a chance to drop your blood cells, I expect you'll start feeling more like yourself sometime in November."

That was music to Harry's ears... at least until an equally terrifying thought entered his mind.

Do I even know what that was?

"Will he be able to go back to Gryffindor tower?" It was Professor McGonagall who asked. Harry could only imagine the questions and inquiries she had to be receiving on an ongoing basis. The problem was, when he had thought about going back to classes he had always still imagined himself living with Snape here in the dungeons.

"That will be the time to start getting back to normal life or as close as possible to normal," the healer explained, not really answering the question either way, "you need to understand that he'll still be considered immunocompromised, just not necessarily at the level he is now. Plus it's not abnormal for cancer patients to have a difficult time with adjusting back into 'normal life'. What I'm trying to say is, that it's really up to how comfortable Harry feels about it."

That would be something else for Harry to consider; for now he was going to relish in the fact that there would come a day when he was going to be closer to his normal self again. And that day was so close, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like.

Harry was back in his bedroom Friday night; comfortable for the first time since waking up in the hospital wing four days ago. While he had been exhausted when he had arrived back into their quarters, he was now filled with eagerness about the idea of an easier chemo schedule to look forward to.

"Come in," he called when there was a solid knock on the door. Somehow Snape must have known he would still be awake.

"I thought you'd still be up. That was some exciting news you received," the professor said while walking into the bedroom and sitting down as he usually did at the desk. He had a somber stride to his walk and Harry knew bad news was coming. "There's something we need to discuss."

The Gryffindor's heart rate increased. What happened while he was unconscious? Was it another attack? He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle another person hurt or dying because of him.

"Ok... what happened?" The young wizard asked in a quiet, tentative voice urging the professor to continue.

"Have you remembered anything else from the day you got sick?"

That was such a random question, Harry had to think twice about it. When nothing else came to him, he shook his head "no".

"Well, something did happen that night," Snape said, taking a deep breath, trying to brace himself. "I said something that - taken out of context, as it was that night - could be interpreted completely wrong."

Is he apologizing for something I don't even remember?

"I don't understand. I don't remember anything happening between us sir," Harry said casually, "so does it even really matter much?"

"Yes Harry, it does," the professor explained confidently, "someday you might remember and if I'm not honest with you now, then it will be infinitely worse then."

That made sense, but it didn't make hearing about it any easier. Whatever could make Snape, of all people, this nervous was bound to be something bad. Deciding the professor was ultimately right about it being worse later, Harry nodded his head.

"I had just found out something - unrelated to your illness - that distressed me greatly... And Professor McGonagall stopped by for tea," the professor ignored Harry's chuckle, "she was asking how I was handling everything and I... I yelled..."

Snape paused so long Harry had assumed that was his big reveal, "No offense sir, but I've heard you yell before... at me plenty of times. Don't get me wrong, it's terrifying, but nothing that would really bother me."

"Harry," he continued, "it was what I yelled that is the issue. I said that regardless of how hard I'm trying, you were going to die. I did not mean how it came out at all."

Harry felt his heart clenching in his chest and his stomach felt like the floor dropped out from under him; that was a lot harder to hear then he had anticipated. How could Snape say that after everything they'd gone through? Worse yet, did he really believe it?

"I promise you Harry, I am doing everything I can to make sure that does not happen," the professor replied calmly, "no matter what I have to do, I will make sure you survive this."

"You said all that to Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes," Snape said, lowering his head in what Harry assumed was shame.

"I think it too sometimes," the young wizard admitted slowly. How could he not think that at least once, as he was sitting in the lavatory turning his stomach inside out, or trying to avoid the burning pain in his core, or even any of the other side effects he's experienced that he hadn't told Snape about - like the sores he sometimes gets in his mouth or the way his hands sometimes hurt both of which are common side effects according to Healer Smithe. "I know that chemotherapy isn't guaranteed to work; that I can go through all of this and die in the end anyways. I don't like when I think like that... some days it's harder than others not to. And if I think like that, then frankly, I know you - and probably everyone else - are bound to think it too."

"You are way too forgiving," Snape replied in disbelief of what he'd just heard.

"I think I've heard that at least once or twice," Harry gave a small smile to his mentor, "Besides, I think you're too hard on yourself."

"I've heard that a couple of times too. Thank you Harry," Snape went to stand up and leave, pausing when Harry grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Wait..." Harry stated loudly, "I have something to ask you."

Snape sat back down without another word, raising one eyebrow to signal for Harry to continue.

Now's as good of time as any to ask.

"Erm," the young wizard nervously stalled, "Do you think I can go to the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts on Sunday?"

It felt odd for Harry to have to ask for permission about something like this, but he'd pretty much come to terms with it all. Snape was practically his parent, more so than even Professor McGonagall and she was his official guardian.

"Are you asking now since you think I will say yes simply because I feel guilty about what I said about you?" The professor narrowed his eyes at Harry, challenging his motives.

"Maybe..." he said in a sly, yet playful manner. "Isn't that what teenagers usually do to their parents?"

It slipped out so quickly and smoothly that Harry almost didn't notice he'd said it - that out loud he had referred to Snape as his parent - until he saw the look on Snape's face. It was a combination of fear and happiness that the Gryffindor had never seen before on this man. Harry felt himself immediately flush feeling far more vulnerable then he ever had in his life.

"I..." Harry started unsure what to tell Snape. He was going to say he didn't mean it, except that wasn't true and he knew Snape wouldn't believe him anyways. So instead he went with, "I'm sorry, it just slipped out."

"It is fine," Snape said and an uncomfortable silence sat between them. "And I'm sure something can be arranged for Sunday if you really want to be there. I've been working on some new charms and spells to help keep the areas around you clean."

"Thank you sir," Harry said, still embarrassed about his slip of tongue, yet quite impressed that Snape had been working on ways to prevent him from becoming ill. Again, it was something a father would do for his child.

Snape nodded and stood up slowly getting ready to walk out the door. With a smirk on his face he said to Harry, "And yes, teenagers do that to their parents all of the time. It will not always work with me. Good night Harry."

Feeling lighter than he had in years, Harry smiled and said, "Good night Severus."

~~~~SS~~~~

Thirteen days. Thirteen long and grueling days Harry remained mostly unconscious and fighting his way through the pneumonia. Now that he was getting better - a little more each day - and back home, Severus could start to sort through the complicated mess he had been left in prior to and during the pneumonia.

They had basically put a hold on any further investigation into Alton's activities with the Dark Lord, outside of having him under a constant guard of either Poppy, Albus, Minerva, or himself. Given their constant rotation and Poppy's casual request for more hands-on assistance with Harry's medication and procedures, he thought they did a fantastic job at keeping Alton in the dark on it all and keeping Harry safe at the same time. Harry's cousin threw them all off the broom, so to say, when he asked to stay at least until Harry recovered from the pneumonia. Somehow, Severus just knew that the boy would probably end up staying at least through the Christmas holidays. As long as Dudley would not be staying in Severus's quarters and he behaved towards Harry, it would be alright with the professor.

None of that mattered much tonight because Harry called him a parent... No, Harry called him his parent. Granted it was said accidentally, however that also meant Harry had been thinking about - perhaps going as far as accepting - the idea previously. Since waking up in this reality he'd questioned many times if he'd made the right decision; now he was confident it was the right thing to do. He was going to get Harry through the cancer and then he would find a way for both of them to survive this war.

Severus was just about to head off to bed when his floo roared and Albus's head was seen floating in the fireplace. From this location in his quarters, the former spy could choose to ignore the Headmaster's call and the other wizard would be none the wiser. Instead, he found himself walking over towards his employer.

"Yes Albus?" Severus called, "it's a little late for a social call is it not?"

"Ah Severus," the elderly wizard replied as if he were surprised who had answered, "may I come through?"

In response, Severus stood aside to allow the headmaster entry into his sitting room. Instantly, Albus walked out of the fireplace without even a hint of soot on his navy blue robes. For the first time, the man appeared appropriately dressed with crescent moons covering his robes.

"This could not wait for the morning because..." The defense professor trailed off clearly indicating he expected an answer.

"I'm afraid I owe an explanation to Healer Smithe about why I have been withholding Harry's magical records," Albus explained taking a seat in the armchair across from where Severus had just sat, "I have my ways of knowing that he plans to be at my office first thing tomorrow morning. We need to discuss how to proceed, my boy."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the former spy remembered that he had yet to mention the magical aptitude test to Harry. The Gryffindor obviously could not participate unconscious with pneumonia, therefore it had been rescheduled to the day prior to his next chemotherapy treatment. Theoretically, that would be his strongest day as it would be the longest from his last treatment.

"Let's assume the Dark Lord knows about the Leukemia," the former spy started deducing based on his observations and experience in Voldemort's presence. "Somehow - though it wouldn't be difficult in Alton's presence - the Dark Lord figured out that Harry was Alton's patient. Therefore, being blatantly honest, if Alton had not told the Dark Lord about it, he would be dead. Ergo, he has to know about the cancer.

"Now this is where it gets complicated. His knowledge of the cancer probably means he knows about the chemotherapy, and even further down the pipeline is knowing about Harry's magical core issue. I cannot see Alton volunteering both of those pieces of information on a normal basis. However after his wife and daughter were kidnapped, it would be a good motivator to tell the truth of what was happening to his patient."

"So then I must deny the request," Albus simply stated, peering over his half-moon spectacles. "He cannot know the level to which Harry's magical core is depleting. It would be detrimental to the whole wizarding world."

Especially because Harry's magic doesn't appear to be depleting.

"I don't completely agree. I feel that would actually work to our advantage," Severus explained, thinking quickly. He had to explain to Albus about Harry's unintentional magic, except another idea jumped to the forefront of his mind. "What if we falsify his records?"

"What good would that do for us Severus?" The headmaster was skeptical at best, yet he allowed his professor the opportunity to elaborate.

"Harry is - or he was - doing very controlled magic unintentionally. My suspicion is we will find his magic has strengthened, instead of weakened. Minerva is doing some light reading to find out if and how that's possible."

Albus's eyes were moving back and forth as he went through each scenario. "If this is true, it is information we do not want Tom finding out."

"My thoughts exactly," the defense professor agreed. "If we were to falsify his records with a student stronger than Harry, we can then give the impression he's losing his magical core. In reality he'll be getting stronger."

Severus hated the idea of essentially using Harry as bait, but if nothing else, it would be a distraction to the Dark Lord; plus they could protect him from finding out the truth. Albus was silent considering the idea proposed. In the end, it was more important to prevent Voldemort from finding out about Harry's potentially stronger magic then about his failing magic.

"Ok Severus," the elderly wizard responded after a moment. "I'll swap Harry's previous record with yours for Alton's review and then after each assessment, you, Minerva, and myself will compare to his regular records. I want to closely monitor this 'unintentional magic' as you call it."

"Mine?!" The defense professor asked, questioningly completely ignoring the other statements. "Surely there is a better ranked student you could select."

"Oh I disagree," the headmaster answered with a smile, "I do not know many other sixth year students who were creating spells on his own; many of which are still used today by the general wizarding community - both recreationally and professionally I might add."

What else could he say to that? It was all true, though Severus would never admit so out loud. There would be no way the Dark Lord would ever know it was his previously loyal servant that was being used and if it ever got out, there wasn't any more risk to himself or Harry.

Nodding his approval, Severus then leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hand. It was pitiful that plans as these had to be made in the first place. Yet again, the professor found himself wanting to pick up and run away with Harry. It had been a long thirteen days and nights, the stress of which was getting to him. Harry was not the only one jubilant to hear that there could be a time where the Gryffindor would start to feel like his old self. The professor would even put up with the defiant teenager now just to have some sense of normalcy.

Of course that led his mind down another winding path... He had only bonded with Harry because of these extreme circumstances, what would happen as Harry started getting back to his normal life? This Harry's normal life was a whole lifetime different from Severus's normal one. What would happen between them both in the classroom and outside of it, especially if - or when - Harry ended up back in Gryffindor tower?

"You are deep in thought, my boy," Albus commented whimsically. Somehow he'd forgotten the older man was still in his sitting room.

"Simply questioning what life will look like after all of this," he told his mentor honestly; feeling a weight lifted off of his shoulders as he admitted that simple statement. Perhaps Minerva and Alton were correct when they'd suggested he speak to a mind healer.

"Remember Severus, sometimes it takes a painful experience to make us change our ways," Albus said, his eyes twinkling as he looked towards Harry's bedroom. "I think you will find things will not be nearly as confusing as you fear they will be, my boy."