~~~~HP~~~~

As if having been woken up to vomiting in his bed on Monday wasn't embarrassing enough, when Harry tried to go to Tuesday's Herbology lesson - which was held in the first period of the day - he didn't make it very long before he ran from the greenhouse still sick to his stomach. In his embarrassment and panic, he barely registered the snickering of his Slytherin classmates, or the fact that Ron and Hermione followed him, without even the start of an explanation to Professor Sprout for his sudden dismissal from class. He'd only made it to the grassy lawn barely outside of the greenhouse before he fell to his knees and started heaving. Hermione kneeled down beside him, not caring that the front of her robe had gotten soaked from the cold morning dew that still coated the grass under their knees, and Ron stood trying to block his two friends from view as students with a morning free period were walking by.

"It's alright, Harry," she told him softly into his ear.

"Thanks, 'Mione," he replied, with a scratchy voice, except it was not alright. The ill wizard had no idea how he was going to walk back into his classroom with his head held high this time. "You guys didn't have to follow..."

Standing up on trembling legs, Harry made his way back to the greenhouse, his head hung in shame, where Professor Sprout didn't even pause her review of poisonous plants in preparation for their exam on Thursday. The trio fell silently back into their places at the table they shared with Neville, Hannah Abbott, and Ernie Macmillian. Harry continued his work without making eye contact with anyone else throughout the rest of the class.

Since both of his classes on Tuesday were before lunch, Harry went to the library with Hermione during their morning break between the two class periods, while Ron and Lavender ran off to wherever it was they went for some privacy. Harry was envious of his friend, but didn't say so to anyone.

"It doesn't bother me," Hermione told him the moment the redhead took off.

"I didn't say it did," Harry replied, giving his friend a smirk and a sideways glance.

"Are you sure you want to finish classes today?" She asked him once they were set up at a secluded table in the library. "Professor Flitwick will understand if you're not there today."

Harry shook his head violently, "I know you don't understand, Hermione, but I need to be in class."

Harry took out his Transfiguration book, parchment, and quills to start on the essay that had been assigned from McGonagall's lesson he missed yesterday. Hermione had uncharacteristically slammed down a large book in frustration.

"I couldn't find a single thing in any of the magical theory books about-" she lowered her voice to Harry, " -horcruxes. So there's nothing in magical artefacts, nothing in magical theory, and I'm running out of ideas."

"There's no way you could have gotten through all of those," he motioned to the pile of textbooks in front of her.

The glare the Gryffindor witch gave him said he was absolutely wrong and she had, in fact, somehow managed to do that much research on top of her normal studies. Harry found himself once again envious of her ability to retain information.

"I'm starting to think Ron was right that it's probably something classified as dark magic," she grudgingly admitted. "That would at least explain why I can't find a single thing about it."

The Gryffindor wizard sighed; he'd been afraid of that too. It wasn't as if nothing related to Harry could be dark magic, seeing as he was hit with, and survived, the killing curse there was bound to be some kind of dark magic surrounding him.

"So what's next?" He asked, because if Hermione couldn't find anything, what were the odds a book even existed with the information? It was very possible that Snape knew what it was from stories he'd heard either growing up or as a Death Eater. That last thought caused Harry to shiver.

"You could just ask Professor Snape, however I get the feeling you really don't want to go down that road," she then hesitantly continued, "I would check the restricted section, except I have really no good reason to ask for a pass right now."

The look Harry gave the witch was almost comical. After six years together, he didn't know how Hermione could be so innocent sometimes. How was she the same witch that secretly and illegally brewed Polyjuice potion as a second year in the abandoned girl's lavatory?

"Hermione," he slyly addressed her, "since when has that stopped us before? I could lend you my dad's cloak, if you're up for it. Or I'm sure Ron would do it if you gave him some direction, but that would mean speaking with him again. I'd go myself, only I guarantee you I can't leave without Severus's wards going off."

Hermione took a minute to consider what Harry was offering. She'd never used his cloak alone, and it felt wrong to do things that way compared to when Harry was with her.

"I'll come down with you after Transfiguration and pick it up," she leaned in to whisper, completely unaware that it did nothing to stop the person who had been listening in on their entire conversation from the other side of the bookcases behind them.

For some reason, Snape had decided to have dinner in their quarters that night, which surprised the Gryffindor. Unless it was a chemotherapy day, Harry usually either ate alone or with his friends, and while he could have started eating meals in the Great Hall again, after the day he had today he really wanted to be alone. And Snape had just ruined that plan.

"Professor Sprout told me you were ill in her class today," Snape said after he placed Harry's evening medication down next to his smoothie. "Is that why you aren't going to the Great Hall tonight? I would have expected you to be thrilled to go back this week."

"I just didn't feel like it, that's all," Harry sharply replied. "You said I could go when I was ready. I'm not."

His dinner of beef stew warmed him from the inside out, but felt heavy on his still tender stomach. At some point Harry assumed he would get to the point where he wouldn't have to overanalyze everything he ate - was he eating too much or too little, would it sit well if he sicked up later, was it something that would interact with his medications - but from his current vantage point, that day was too far away. Instead it felt like he would forever be stuck playing this role of the 'sick kid' who was always needing special exceptions and was left behind.

"I'm worried about you, Harry," Snape said, and something in his voice - maybe fear- touched the young wizard deep within his core. On any normal day it would have been a feeling of elation, but today it burned.

Harry wanted to ignore the concern in the depths of the professor's black eyes, so he refused to look up from his bowl of stew. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint the man in front of him. Then, to give himself some extra time, he took a large sip of his water and took his tablets - three at a time as he'd gotten so good at taking them by now - before he finally had to make eye contact. His heart was pulled by the pain that was evident in the man he viewed as his parent, at this point more so than even Sirius if he were honest with himself. But no matter how much he wanted to talk to the professor across the table, to tell him about the constant snickering and ridicule he heard behind his back, he couldn't will his brain, to tell his voice, to say the words. There was no way he could add to the man's stress when he was already shouldering so much for the Gryffindor; it wasn't fair to the professor. So what if he'd been his adopted father in another world? This wasn't what the man had signed up for when he took whatever it was - had Snape actually ever told him? - to come here. He'd wanted his son back, and what he got instead was a sixteen year old with more issues than anyone would want to handle.

"I'm fine," Harry managed to hold his cringe in when he said that lethal word, and he knew Snape would never believe him.

"Maybe you should consider taking the morning after chemotherapy off as well," Snape carefully suggested. It was probably what he would have done had his own Gryffindor pride not gotten in the way. Harry followed Snape's eyes as he looked at the chemotherapy schedule that was posted next to the shelf overfilled with his tablet medication bottles. "It wouldn't be too many extra days out of class and if it prevents-"

"I said I'm fine!" Harry yelled. There was something about Snape suggesting he take more time off school that broke the dam of anger welling up inside of him, "What do I have to do to prove that to you? Do you want me to move back up to the tower? Would that do it? Because I don't care what you think you see going on here, I. Am. Fine!"

At that point, Harry stood up from the infuriating energy filling inside of him, "So what if I had to leave in the middle of class today? I'm perfectly fine with that!"

Not wanting to continue this discussion a second longer, Harry forcibly pushed his chair in and stormed from the kitchen, into his bedroom where he slammed the door closed in his wake. He didn't want to study or do his homework and he was far too angry to sketch, so instead he did the only thing he could think of to burn through the excess energy and he started pacing. It was somewhere on his fifth or sixth lap around his room that there was a hard knock on his door and, without waiting for permission to enter, Snape stormed in.

"Sit down," the dark haired professor sternly said, pointing to the bed making it clear he was in charge of this conversation. To this, Harry listened and sat on his bed with a defiant look upon his face. "I understand that you are probably still embarrassed over yesterday's events-"

"You-"

"Do not interrupt me," Snape argued, before Harry could get a second word out.

The infuriated Gryffindor firmly closed his mouth into a hard line, to prove the point that he would not be saying another word.

"I've given you ample time to get through what happened yesterday," Snape practically yelled at him, "and I haven't a clue of what exactly went on in Herbology as you refused to discuss it, but either way, you are to show me some respect in my quarters. Is that understood?"

Again, Harry said nothing; he didn't even try to avert his eyes.

"I said, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, with the air defiance still around him while both wizards faced off at one another.

"Good, now go to bed!"

Snape turned and stormed out of his room with the same ferocity as he stormed in only a few moments ago. Harry stood as if to go after the man, but only made it two steps. He yelled in frustration, as loud as his cracked voice would allow, picked up the first thing he could find - the sphere that was sitting on his bedside table - and threw it at the enchanted window, causing the window to now appear cracked down it's left side. Staggering backwards until his back hit the wall just to the left of his bathroom door, the young wizard slid down the wall with a hard thump when his bottom met the stone floor, and he started to cry.

What have I done?

Wednesday 6, November 1996

Wednesday morning was so dark and dreary that when Harry first opened his eyes he was sure his enchanted window had stopped working from the sphere hitting it the night before. Instead, while the crack was still there - he'd have to ask Hermione at their Transfiguration tutoring today if she could fix it - the picture showed the grounds out by the black lake blanketed in a dark, angry fog; not too unlike to how he felt inside that morning. It wasn't surprising that the Gryffindor hadn't slept well; his fight with Snape sat heavy on his mind as he tossed and turned into the early hours of the morning. Of course, out of all the days for him to have this type of argument with the professor, it had to be the night before he had Defense class with the man this morning.

As if class with Snape wasn't bad enough, Wednesdays were one of Harry's harder days, which did nothing to help his aggressive mood. In addition to his morning defense class - apparently the sixth years were destined to only have Snape first thing in the mornings - he also had Potions after lunch, and Transfiguration tutoring before dinner. While Potions class wasn't nearly as difficult using Snape's old textbook full of helpful notes and alternations, Slughorn made the class tedious and boring, so Harry was absolutely not looking forward to it in his current state of mind.

Getting up quietly from his bed, Harry showered and got dressed before sneaking his way into the kitchen. Lately Snape had been eating breakfast up in the Great Hall, which the professor not so subtly reminded Harry last night that he could now do, but just in case, the young wizard moved as silently as possible. When he turned the corner to an empty kitchen, he audibly sighed in relief. He would get to delay the inevitable confrontation just a little bit longer. Having missed dinner last night, Harry would have thought his stomach would be hungrier than it was, but just the sight of his scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast turned it sour immediately. Taking a single bite of each of the items on his plate, he pushed it away and collected his school bag ready to head to class where he would have to face the man he'd been wanting to avoid. For a brief moment, as he made his way through the deserted corridors of the dungeon - everyone must have been upstairs at breakfast - he considered skiving off and heading to the library instead or hiding out in Gryffindor common room. In the end though, he stood tall as he headed into the classroom and waited for the awful class to start.

Luckily, Snape was just as willing to ignore their latest row as Harry was, however that didn't necessarily mean that class went smoothly. Instead, the professor decided not to acknowledge Harry in any way besides collecting his essay and pairing him with Neville for their practical lessons. Harry was still using his wand inverted to prevent any accidental use of magic, causing his sour mood to dampen even further as he watched everyone around him - including Neville - successfully complete their assigned task. He left that morning feeling lower than he had after any other class in the past six years.

During potions class the Gryffindor found himself wishing he could go back to tutoring with Malfoy instead of standing at the laboratory table preparing his ingredients for the Dreamless Sleep potion. It just seemed easier for him to concentrate when he wasn't worrying about his cauldron literally blowing up in his face because he didn't ground his lavender leaves fine enough. Not to mention, that in N.E.W.T level potions, everything was done independently; something that Harry struggled with since, while he managed to get the appropriate mark on his own to get into the class to begin with, he still liked having another person to bounce his questions off of during the practical lessons.

His thoughts quickly moved from his lavender preparation to none other than Malfoy. Harry didn't remember seeing the other teen enter the classroom with everyone else after lunch. He peered around the room and quickly confirmed that the Slytherin was indeed missing from the class and wondered where he could be. As with almost every Defense lesson, Snape had asked Malfoy to stay after class - Harry may have felt a touch jealous, though he would never admit to such a fact - and now the young wizard wondered if Snape was somehow involved with the blonde's sudden disappearance from one of his favorite classes.

"Harry?" The whisper from Hermione was just loud enough to get his attention from the table to his left.

"What?" He whispered back to his friend, while trying to avoid alerting Slughorn to their covert conversation.

Apparently, he hadn't been quiet enough, since Slughorn lifted his head to address the class, squinting his eyes and said, "Quiet down everyone, you should all be working independently right now."

Harry rolled his eyes; it seemed like nothing could go his way this week. He peered back over to Hermione, and she made a motion like checking her watch. Apparently she somehow knew he was behind in his brewing, which of course he was because he was having such a hard time focusing on remembering he needed to do next.

What was I doing again?

The Gryffindor rubbed his forehead trying to clear his head from the cobwebs that felt as if they blanketed every corner of his mind.

The lavender!

The next step in the potion was to add the lavender. Now that he was feeling back on track, he was just about to put the lavender into his cauldron when something sharp hit him on his right shoulder. Deciding it was best to ignore the problem, Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten, as he tried to hold back his growing temper inside of him. Back to his cauldron, once the lavender was added he started stirring when he was hit yet again from behind, this time with a slimy eel eye, directly to the back of his head.

At this point, there was no use in trying to ignore the problem because it was obviously not going to go away. Harry cringed as he remembered who was at the two tables directly behind him - Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. Those two particular Slytherins had been giving him problems since the day he'd returned back to classes. At first he did what he had always done and ignored them, however their taunting had increased significantly in the last two days, after Harry had missed classes Monday and then his sudden need to leave the greenhouses yesterday.

The Gryffindor reached inside his robes and fingered his wand, but stopped when he remembered that he wasn't supposed to use magic. It didn't seem to matter to him that he also wasn't supposed to hex anyone in class because he was fully prepared to defend himself, if he felt that he needed to. Hermione's swift movements to his left caught his attention yet again, and she gave him a small shake of her head, then gestured back to Slughorn, who appeared to be lost in his own thoughts.

Harry went back to focusing on his potion, but it was less than five minutes later when he felt someone brush up against his back causing Harry to immediately go into a defensive stance by pulling his wand as he turned quickly around.

"Oi Potter! Feeling a little paranoid today?"

It was Nott who had walked behind him on his way to the potions cupboard. The Slytherin may have appeared innocent to those standing by, but Harry just knew his intentions were nefarious.

"What is the meaning of all of this?" Slughorn called from his desk up at the front of the classroom. "Mr. Potter, put your wand away this instant or I'll be forced to give you a detention."

"Sorry sir," Harry mumbled, placing his wand back in the inside of his robe, in a convenient location should he need it quickly later on in class.

"From what I hear, there's not much you can really do with that thing anyway. Might as well use it as firewood," Nott taunted. Harry kept a close eye on the Slytherin as he walked away towards the cupboard.

Focus, the Gryffindor reminded himself. He needed to stay focused on finishing his assignment, otherwise he'd fail the day and this was a class he should do well in given that he didn't really need any magic; he just needed to focus and that was something that was far too difficult for him lately.

Later, Harry would say he wasn't exactly sure what had happened when Nott was heading back to his laboratory table from the potions cupboard, but it would be a flat out lie. No matter what his current animosity towards Snape was, the Gryffindor wasn't about to cause any more open issues between himself and the Slytherins that would put Snape stuck in the middle between them. Merlin himself knew he already had issues of his own with Snape without having to add a duel between him and one of his snakes. What Harry did know, for sure, was that as he was slicing his Valerian roots - thinking back to that first true Occlumency lesson with Snape - Nott chose that time to aggressively 'bump' into him from behind, using what felt like an elbow to Harry's thin rib cage. In addition to the now sharp, radiating pain from the Gryffindor's side, it inevitably caused his right hand to slip and his extremely sharp potion's knife to glide across the section between his left index finger and his thumb, slicing it as easily as his Valerian roots had been sliced. Harry yelped out in pain as he dropped his knife and immediately wrapped his hand in his robes. The cut was deep, a testament to the sharpness of his knife, and he had no idea what to do about it.

"Professor Slughorn!" Hermione called out at the sight of Harry's bleeding hand, though everyone had already heard his yell.

At the same time, Ron ran up behind Harry - who flinched at the sudden movement - and shoved Nott over the table before both boys ended up pulling their wands at one another.

"Move out of the way," the professor called as he sauntered, slower than Harry would have liked, waving his hands in the air. "Both of you will put those wands away before you get double detentions."

"Did you see what he-" Ron started yelling.

"I didn't do anything-"

"Like anyone believes anything a snake like you says!"

Harry tuned out the full blown yelling match between Ron and Nott as his hand continued to bleed profusely and his side was feeling sore and achy. While Dr. Meghan had said his blood counts wouldn't plummet with the time between chemotherapy, she also said the medications would drop them right after the treatments. Was two days enough for his platelet counts to rebound enough? Based on how much blood was pooling in his robe, he assumed not. He needed to get to Madam Pomfrey, and quickly.

"Isn't his disease in his blood?" He heard someone - a girl, maybe Pansy Parkinson - call out. "He's going to infect-"

"Professor?" The injured Gryffindor interrupted hoping his trembling voice could block out Parkinson's loud shrill one.

"Here we are, Mr. Potter," the professor walked up to him holding a bottle of potion. "Nothing a little Essence of Dittany-"

"No!" Hermione yelled. It drew everyone's attention away from Harry and onto her. "He can't use that, Professor. He needs to go to the hospital wing!"

Finally, that seemed to get Slughorn's attention to the severity of the situation.

"Oh, oh yes," Slughorn shook his head, "Thank you, my dear. Ms. Granger, please help Mr. Potter up to the hospital wing, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will be able to handle that."

Harry had never been more glad to be headed to the hospital wing. The walk up was quiet and the wizard could only imagine the things Hermione was ruminating in her mind about what had happened. He couldn't care less about anything that happened with Nott, so long as he had a place he could rest - because for some reason he was suddenly exhausted - and his hand was healed.

"You need to tell Professor Snape what happened," Hermione quietly said, as they approached the hospital wing.

"I don't have to tell anyone, anything," it was an immature response and reminded him too much of his argument with Snape, but Harry didn't care one bit. He kept telling himself that he could handle the other students as he did every other year when there had been issues like this. "Just leave it alone, 'Mione."

"Harry, you don't-"

"I'm fine," he interrupted what he assumed was going to be some heartfelt explanation about how he doesn't have to do this alone. That sounded all fine and good, except no one really understood what he was going through. Gesturing to the door of the hospital wing, he added, "Go back to class, I think I can make it from here."

Without looking back at the Gryffindor witch, he opened the door with his non-injured right hand and left her staring speechless as the door closed behind him.

"Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "You've been back to classes for less than a fortnight and you're already here? I think this is some kind of record for you."

Harry wanted to disagree, but decided it wasn't worth it.

"Potions knife," he said while holding his hand out, as if that fully explained the situation. "Do you know anything about stitches?"

Harry walked over to the closest bed, happy to finally get off his feet because he was starting to get light-headed, and held his hand out for Madam Pomfrey to examine. It was still actively bleeding, though Harry could convince himself it had slowed, but the cut was deep.

"Unfortunately not," the medi-witch said. With a wave of her wand, the excess blood had cleared showing just the cut with whatever new blood was coming through. "You had chemotherapy on Monday correct?"

The Gryffindor nodded to her question and leaned back against the bed; he really wanted to go to sleep right there. Madam Pomfrey conjured up some bandages and wrapped Harry's hand tightly.

"Let me go get Dr. Swanson," the medi-witch huffed. "And I'm sure Severus will want to hear about this, too."

Great, just what I need right now. He'd thought sarcastically, but deep down that was exactly who he wanted there with him.

Closing his eyes, Harry breathed through the pain. He should have just told Madam Pomfrey to use magic to heal it; what difference would it really make in the end anyway? A little magic here or there couldn't really affect his magical core that much, they were letting him use it for his magical testing so he didn't see why she couldn't heal his cut. Though now that the young wizard thought about it, he didn't have a magical test before this last round of chemo.

I wonder why they skipped that one?

"I have to go to the hospital and pick up your doctor," Madam Pomfrey quickly said. "We'll need to find another solution going forward because this will not work if there's an emergency."

"Where's Severus?"

"He's apparently away from the castle at the moment," the medi-witch casually said, like it was normal for the man to be gone in the middle of the week.

"Where did he go?" Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. The matron was continuing to clean out the wound and was bandaging it back up. "Can I just give you permission to heal this with magic so I can go on my way?"

"Absolutely not! I'm under strict instruction not to use magic on you without Severus's approval," she lectured. "You are to stay right here until I return with Dr. Swanson."

After the medi-witch left, Harry held his wounded hand to his chest and tried not to let the anger and embarrassment consume him. He'd been minding his own business, all he wanted was to do his work, and Nott had to go and ruin everything.

I should have hexed his arse.

It was with that thought that Madam Pomfrey came back with a very angry looking Dr. Meghan.

"What exactly is a potions accident?" The muggle doctor asked indignantly. She pulled up a tray next to his bed and started taking out a wide range of equipment she would apparently need to examine his wound.

"This is hardly the worst accident that could have happened in potions class," the Gryffindor tried to joke, but his doctor gave him a glare that told him she didn't find it the least bit funny. There was an awkward silence as she continued to examine his hand.

"It looks like you need at least a couple of stitches," Dr. Meghan reported. She pulled out the muggle supplies and then turned to Madam Pomfrey, "Would you like me to show you how to do this?"

As Dr. Meghan walked the matron through how the process would be done, Harry wasn't paying attention to a single word. His mind was miles away wondering where Snape could be and what he could possibly be doing away from the safety of the castle wards. In that moment he had time to reflect on the rough start to the week for the pair of them, beginning with his slight attitude Monday from the vomiting incident through last night's row, even though he was fully aware that it was unfair to Snape. It wasn't as if the professor belittled him or mocked him over his situation on Monday - quite the opposite actually, the man had been understanding and helpful - so Harry's current animosity to his mentor wasn't really a rational one. It was simply that the young wizard had been feeling down about his situation: about the cancer, about his magic, about being behind in his classes, and even about Voldemort. All of it was closing in on him from every direction and he had started to feel helpless in the many faceted battles he was facing. With all of his inner turmoil going on within, he decided to try to stay focused on the immediate problems - which did not include the two women stitching up his hand - it was questioning where Severus was and hoping he was safe doing whatever it was he thought he needed to do outside the safety of the castle.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed the two women's faces looking at him as if he'd grown an extra set of arms. He also hadn't noticed himself wheezing every time he inhaled.

"H..r..y?"

The young wizard saw Dr. Meghan's lips move as if she were saying his name and he strained to hear her voice, but it was almost as if his muggle doctor was submerged underwater. Why couldn't he hear a single thing she was saying?

"I… I..."

He wanted to tell them not to worry, that he was alright now, except he never got to because his vision started to tunnel and shortly after that, he passed out in the bed of the hospital wing.

~~~~SS~~~~

Landing directly in Knockturn Alley always caused Severus some degree of uneasiness. Being intimately familiar with the particular clientele that normally frequented this part of the wizarding world market place, he was keenly aware of how quickly danger could creep upon him on any given visit. The fact that Draco was with him on this specific quest did nothing to help his wariness.

After his revelation about Harry's magical cores and the soul fragment's ability to protect the new magic, Severus was more determined than ever to get the answers they needed in order to make a quick and logical decision. At some point in the near future, he'd have to tell Harry what was going on, and if he didn't have as many answers as possible it would potentially make the Gryffindor's outlook on his situation worse than it already was lately. Somehow, going back to classes seemed to have the opposite effect on Harry; instead of helping to ease his mind, it seemed to cause more conflict within it. This afternoon, Severus would have to put that row far behind his Occlumency shields so he could focus on the task in front of them without any distractions; the alternative could unfortunately be fatal.

The two Slytherins walked side-by-side down the steep steps into the depths of the dark alley, keeping a close eye for anything that would be considered too out of place. Matthew would be meeting them in the alleyway between Nightowls and Gundovald's Apothecary, where the other man wouldn't be out of place should he be seen given his profession, however it also meant it was a place that Matthew would be more comfortable with than Severus. In an effort to even the playing field, the former spy arrived a whole half hour early to make sure there would be no surprises waiting for them at their meeting place or any of the shops nearby. He wanted this to be clean, quick, and preferably painless.

Severus chose a random muggle to impersonate the last time he was at the pharmacy to pick up Harry's refill of his tablet medications. Luckily, the former Death Eater had the kind of stature that would prevent someone from wanting to pick a fight with him, even after he randomly plucked a hair from the stranger's head, and the man appeared as if he wanted to hit the professor. Today before disapparating from Hogsmeade to London, he took a large drink of that vile sludge - bringing along an extra two doses, unsure how long this would take - thinking that if anyone could come up with a better tasting formula for Polyjuice, that person would be set for life. He'd felt himself transform, a feeling no one ever got used to no matter how many times they'd done it, into another man that Matthew would hopefully not think twice at purchasing Chimera Scales without any documentation.

"We're clear," the disguised professor called to the blonde student next to him. They'd arrived at the meeting spot and Severus confirmed nothing was out of order. "Now we wait."

Severus could tell that Draco was doing his best to appear in control of his emotions. The teen held his hands, balled into fists, at his side as he took large deep breaths to calm his nerves. It brought the former spy back to his first "deal" he ever made. He had been a freshly marked Death Eater, like Draco, tasked at making a potion that was basically a modified version of Veritaserum. It would torture the victims with electrical shocks for no real reason Severus could ascertain, while forcibly making them tell the truth. The assignment required him to gain possession of several ingredients he wouldn't be able to get unless he were working for a legitimate Potions Master - which he was not yet at that time - and therefore he'd needed to go about it as he and Draco were about to do. Now over a decade later, the details were not as clear as they had been, but he would never forget how nervous he was to approach the man in the dark alleyway that could have easily sent him to Azkaban.

"What if he doesn't show?" Draco tried to hide his own fear within the question.

"He'll show," Severus replied, "I have it on good authority that he's in need of what I'm about to give him."

"Why does he need it?"

Severus internally cringed at the question the teen had asked. It was a rookie question that would get the blonde killed some day if he wasn't set straight.

"You never ask," the former spy lectured his protégé, "just as he did not inquire about my need for the scales. Had he required that information, we would not be here."

Draco nodded as he picked up on the implied reasoning behind never asking or telling the project you're working on. Severus hoped, with everything he had, that they'd finally be able to kill the Dark Lord long before Draco had to get too involved. Somehow through his Occlumency shields slipped the fact that the dark wizard could not be killed before Harry was no longer a Horcrux. And if they were going to conserve any of Harry's magical core, the soul fragment could not be removed, making his hope for Draco very unlikely.

And that's even assuming we know how to remove the soul fragment.

It was a problem for another day, and another benefit to compartmentalization. If Severus started to think about the problems he had to solve further down the road, it would be too overwhelming. Instead, he tried to stay focused on the problem directly in front of him and right now it was the fact that they were still waiting.

"He's late," Severus stated the obvious. He turned to look around the dark alleyway in hopes of finding the wizard that had the ingredient he desperately needed and hoping not to find anything that would spell out trouble for the pair of Slytherins.

"Maybe he's not coming," Draco reiterated, a little more frustrated this time. Severus could tell it was his fear causing his impatience, not his anger from potentially wasting his time. "Maybe he couldn't get the goods. I told you he was dodgy bloke, at best. It wouldn't shock anyone if his deal fell through."

"Draco Malfoy," a dark voice surprised the teen both with his presence and the use of his name out loud; another rookie mistake the former spy wouldn't expect from someone of Matthew's experience. "I didn't realize you thought so little of me. I'll have to remember that when Daddy finally manages to come crawling out of Azkaban looking for any way to stop the phantom screams that will forever haunt him in his head. Somehow I get the feeling he'll need more than a little Dragon Dust to quiet them."

Matthew may have gotten the impression that he'd snuck up on his buyers, yet Severus had seen him coming the moment he stepped foot in the alleyway. Unfortunately - or fortunately for them - the former spy found that if their seller had a false sense of confidence, things tended to go in his favor. Therefore, Severus may have given Draco the impression that Matthew's delay was cause for worry.

Stepping out of the shadows, Severus - still disguised as the muggle with a square jawline, dark brown short hair, green eyes, and as far from looking like Severus Snape as he could find, while still having an aura around him that showed he knew what he was doing - grabbed the back of Draco's neck and not-so-gently moved the teen out of the way.

"It's me you're dealing with today," Severus darkly said. He did not offer the other wizard his hand as the man who had the precious ingredient looked the professor up and down, judging if this was the type of person who could turn around and rat him out to the Aurors. To help build his credibility, he roughly tossed Draco aside and said, "I suggest you stay out of the way, child."

Matthew raised his chin quickly, "And how do you two know each other?"

The disguised former Death Eater took a risk and replied, "We both work in the same… circle."

The muggleborn Slytherin made it obvious when he picked up on the implication by veering his line of sight to Severus's Dark Mark, which could not be covered by the Polyjuice potion. The skittish man then turned and peered towards Draco's left forearm, to which the blonde flexed, confirming the mark's presence.

"Are you prepared?" Severus, who wanted to move this along so he could get back to the safety of Hogwarts, pulled three large phials from his inner cloak pocket. "I expect you'll find these to your satisfaction."

Matthew went to grab the phials, but Severus pulled them back at the last second. He knew better than to give up his payment before confirming the other man had his product. With a shaking hand, Matthew pulled a package and opened it to reveal seven scales that started as a blazing orange on top and slowly turned into jet black on the edges and bottom. They were legitimate Chimera Scales and exactly what he needed to complete the potion. Much to the professor's surprise, Matthew held out the package for Severus to take.

This man would not have lasted a week as a Death Eater.

With the scales now in his possession, he handed off the phials of saliva and grabbed Draco by the arm to get them out of there as quickly as possible.

"Draco," the seller called, just as they were reaching the edge of the alleyway. "Tell your new Lord 'hello' for me. I hear he's been living with your mother. Imagine her surprise if she found out you'd been taken out of school for something like this."

That time, the Malfoy heir could not keep the fear from creeping into the features on his face. His grey eyes went wide and Severus could feel his breathing start to shallow. With one more firm push, he got Draco moving so they could get back to a place to safely apparate back to Hogsmeade and then go back to the safety of the castle.

"What the bloody hell was he talking about?!" Draco exclaimed, the moment they stepped foot through the Hogwarts gates. "That sure as hell sounded like a threat to my mother! I thought he wasn't working for the Dark Lord?"

Severus was expecting the questions and was all prepared to answer, however now that he was within the wards of the school, his own personal wards were blaring to him that something was wrong with Harry. As expected, they returned right around dinnertime, so what could possibly have happened to the Gryffindor in the few hours they'd been gone?

"Follow me," he said to Draco, taking large strides towards the castle. He knew he should wait until the Polyjuice potion wore off, however he didn't have time for that.

"What's wrong? Where are we going?"

"To the hospital wing," the professor replied, "And I did not think Matthew was working with the Dark Lord, however having lost his brewer, it's possible he might be that desperate to seek the mediocre work of that imbecile."

Draco stopped momentarily allowing about two meters to separate him and his mentor as he thought about what that meant for his unique position. Running to catch the former spy, he asked, "He's not marked though, right?"

"As far as I know, he's not. However, not all Death Eaters carry the mark."

"Severus, stop!" the blonde called out, which finally got the professor's attention as he was about to enter the castle. "Someone needs to check on my mother."

It was an impossible request. Albus couldn't really send a member of the Order of the Phoenix to Malfoy Manor where the Dark Lord's headquarters were, especially when the headmaster didn't know Severus had been to see Matthew in the first place. But how could he explain that to the sixteen year old in front of him who was concerned - possibly for good reason - for his mother's safety.

"I'll arrange for you to firecall her tonight," he committed without a single clue as to how he would actually do it. "Go back to your dormitory to collect yourself, and then go to dinner."

His Slytherin nodded and took off towards the dungeons. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried his hardest to get some semblance of control over himself and his stray emotions - fear for Draco with his mother and fear for whatever had happened to Harry. The professor hedged his bets and headed towards the hospital wing; if something happened to Harry while he'd been out of the castle, the young wizard would be there.