~~~~AU SS~~~~

Severus was sitting in the cold office in St. Mungo's questioning how they'd gotten to this point. This wasn't supposed to be how it went. The cancerous cell count had been steadily declining, and this was supposed to be the appointment where Harry was declared cancer-free. Actually, that appointment was supposed to be ten days from now and he just knew it wouldn't happen anymore. When the signs of the Leukemia started to re-emerge, he immediately scheduled this appointment with Healer Walker because they couldn't wait ten days to know for sure.

The father and son sat in the small exam room in complete silence outside of Harry's nervous leg tapping, something which Severus was not going to stop this time. This time he knew Harry needed to work off the nervous energy, as did he, and this was the best option. He didn't want to cause the young wizard anymore anxiety then he already had. Because no matter what Healer Walker said as she tried to tell them not to jump to conclusions until the results were in, they both knew exactly what was going on.

The professor knew something wasn't right the third time his sixteen year old son had fallen asleep in his class over a fortnight period. At first, he blamed it on a thrilling Quidditch win having kept the Gryffindor up most of the night celebrating. Then he blamed the stresses of upcoming midterm exams, keeping him studying long into the night. The last time, only two days ago, there was really no excuse for it, but the biggest sign of trouble - one he could not explain away and that had his body in a hidden panic attack - was the large bruises he saw on the back of the young wizard's neck as he slept in Potion's class. After class that day, he'd kept Harry behind to ask and as expected, his son had no clue they were there or how he'd gotten them. So he immediately scheduled this appointment already knowing how it would end: the Leukemia was back.

This was confirmed the moment Healer Walker opened the small exam room door, so softly and quietly, it was like she was trying not to displace any of the heavy air within the room. She knew by the simple act of walking into that exam room, the lives of these two would forever change and she wanted to preserve their innocence for however long she could.

Severus didn't need to hear a word come out of her mouth to know it was bad news, which was probably the only good thing about the appointment because as she spoke, he could see her mouth moving but no words seemed to come out. He could hear bits and pieces like the phase 'stage four', although ALL and Leukemia in general didn't use a traditional staging system, he guessed his shocked and confused face meant she felt the need to provide the information in some other - easier to understand - method, meaning there wasn't anything else they could do to stop the inevitable. The healer then walked them through the previous results, comparing them to today's; Severus already knew how they looked, he had studied the results thoroughly after each appointment. This didn't make any sense, how did they go from almost remission to results worse than on the day of his diagnosis? Just in case, Healer Walker would do another test, but deep down he knew it would be futile; he'd seen the signs. Finally, she talked about palliative care; ways to keep Harry comfortable for however long he had left and at this point that was really all they could do. Things like the addictive properties of Dreamless Sleep and restricted pain potions wouldn't matter in the long run anymore, and if needed they could combine efforts with other muggle medications to help combat any pain he may find himself in.

"But I've been taking the potions," Harry finally said, with a quiver in his voice and a layer of grief he couldn't keep away, "I've been taking them exactly as you said I was supposed to, every single day."

It was an expected first reaction from the teen upon hearing the news that not only had everything they'd been working on had failed, but that there was nothing they could do going forward to reverse the outcome. Harry was going to die from Leukemia.

"Sometimes these things just happen. I am going to do some further research into what could have gone wrong," Healer Walker calmly explained, "however, regardless of the path we chose, there was never a guarantee that it would work, and the potions route had a more challenging path than the muggle treat-"

"How long?" Severus interrupted her bluntly.

"It's hard to give an exact timeline, especially considering how quickly things changed in only six weeks," The healer busied herself with the file in her hands, hating to give this kind of news, "An aggressive cancer like ALL, I would guess anywhere from one to three months, could be more if the curve flattens out. My recommendation is to try not to focus on the exact number."

He didn't hear much from the rest of that appointment. There was a list of what they could expect and ways to help ease Harry's discomfort with each of them; both wizarding and muggle methods, the latter of which he'd contact Alton about when they got home. He would have to discuss this with the headmaster, there was no point in Harry continuing classes, though the Gryffindor insisted he continue until he physically couldn't go any longer, something Severus wouldn't deny. It would do him good to stay focused on something.

Somehow, after a long day of extra tests, they made it back to the castle and were walking through the corridor leading back home. Severus had his arm around his son who was walking almost in a foggy daze. It wasn't supposed to go like this; he had been getting better, the cancer had been going away, until it wasn't. As expected, the young wizard went straight to his bedroom - the door closing slowly in his wake to mirror his sullen mood - leaving Severus alone in the sitting room. He paced; it was what he did when he had so much pent up energy within him that he had to move. The room was too suffocating, even after unbuttoning the top of his shirt so it didn't sit tightly around his neck. Surrounding him were all the signs of the life he lived with Harry, a life that was going to end. The pictures of birthdays and Christmases, Harry's O.W.L. results, and adoption certificate sat in frames around the room. A small cup of coffee was sitting on the table in front of him from where he sat only hours ago that morning trying to act like it was just going to be a normal check-up. Somehow, even then he knew they'd be returning completely changed. Without a second thought - a testament to his distracted mind - he picked up the small, plain white cup and threw it against the wall to the left of the fireplace, right below the enchanted window that showed a bright sunny spring day; completely wrong for how he felt inside. The cup shattered, which he'd not only expected but had hoped for, and the coffee dripped down the grey painted stone wall, leaving streaks of black tears on the wall.

Sirius had known they were going for the check-up that day, as well as the return of the Leukemia symptoms, and therefore it didn't surprise Severus when the Animagus stopped by for dinner to hear how it went. Also not surprisingly was that Harry did not show up at the dinner table, and just this once the professor wasn't going to push the issue. So he had dinner with Harry's Godfather and told him everything that had happened and exactly what Healer Walker had told them. Immediately, Sirius got up from the small table, his chair tumbling to the floor with a loud crash, and took off for Harry's bedroom. The professor wouldn't interrupt them, it was time that they needed to spend together.

He'll never know how he made it through that day, but before he knew it, it was nine o'clock. He sat in his armchair staring off into the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and dance in a cadence that would be relaxing if it weren't for his distressing feelings inside of him. He refused to believe he'd failed his son. There had to be a way to fix this, to give Harry more time for his body to fight against the cancer. He couldn't just let it end like this. Going through his extensive research left him empty handed, but he remembered back to a conversation he'd had about four months ago with the very last person he would ever go to for help in this type of situation. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and he needed to do something, anything. And suddenly he knew what that something was.

Sirius had been in with Harry since he'd heard the news, and Severus had left them more or less alone, except to bring a much needed dose of Dreamless Sleep for Harry that night. The young wizard must have finally taken the potion because Sirius walked out right at the same time Severus knew what he needed to do.

"Can you stay with Harry?" He asked Sirius as the Gryffindor collapsed onto the sofa, "I need to run an errand."

"You need to go now?!" Sirius angrily questioned, "What the hell could be so bloody important that you need to leave in the middle of the night?!"

It was a manifestation of the Godfather's grief and Severus wouldn't interrupt the process. It was easier to be angry with the professor leaving, especially since it definitely wasn't the middle of the night, then the situation neither of them could change.

"Can you stay with him or not?"

"Of course," Sirius spat back. "Are you going to tell me where you're going?"

Gathering up his traveling cloak, making sure to re-button his shirt so he had some semblance of control over himself in preparation for this visit, he turned to the Gryffindor who looked so lost with his red-rimmed eyes pleading for the professor to have some solution to their common problem.

"I'm going to try to fix this," he called out over his shoulder, "any way I can."

Severus stood in the ornate library waiting for the person he knew would still be awake at this late hour. This large, expansive library had always had a calming effect on him in the otherwise daunting Manor, and it was exactly the environment he needed to make this request.

"Severus," the long drawl of Lucius Malfoy came from behind him, "to what do I owe the pleasure for this late visit?"

"Please accept my sincerest apologies to you and Narcissa for the hour," the former spy told his colleague and friend, "I need your help."

It was far more casual of a request than he would normally make to this wizard. Lucius was the epitome of formality and his less than eloquent request was far from the usual tone most would use with the man. But Severus was desperate for answers, for a solution that he hoped was stored here in Malfoy Manor because the patriarch had tried to give him what he was now looking for back when he was in this same room during the Christmas party.

"What is it that you need?" He could see the negotiations passing through Lucius's mind and Severus didn't care what it cost him.

"Harry's dying," Severus bluntly said. It was really the first time he'd used those two words alone, and the grief filled him up inside. "I need to do anything I can-"

He was interrupted by Lucius's pale hand, adorned with his silver serpentine rings, lifting as a signal for him to cease talking.

"Are you willing to dabble across the line?"

No explanation was necessary, the blonde had picked up exactly what he was there to collect.

"I'm willing to do anything I can," he would beg if he needed to, sell his soul back to the Dark Lord, whatever it took to get the two tomes that might contain the information he needed.

Giving a slight nod, Lucius went to the familiar bookcase with the hidden drawer that hopefully held the answers he seek. It took less than a minute for the other wizard to return, holding two ancient looking books that had an aura of Dark Magic around them.

"From one father to another," the blonde said, handing the books to Severus, "you have my strictest of confidence that should you find yourself using anything within these texts, I will honor utmost discretion. As I'm sure you will as well."

At this point, Severus didn't care if he was imprisoned in Azkaban as long as it saved Harry in the end. Using any of these potions, spells, or rituals, could leave him rotting there for the rest of his life and he wouldn't think twice about it using any of them.

"Thank you," he replied, trying to ignore the rare sympathy and pity in his friend's eyes.

Upon returning to his quarters, it took most of the night and several cups of coffee to finally find something he could use. It was sometime just before four in the morning, with Sirius fast asleep on the couch with the help of his own dose of Dreamless Sleep, that Severus came across a blood ritual aptly named "Blood Cleansing".

Ritual: Blood Cleansing

A thorough cleansing is not achieved without the presence of a destructive force to remove the impurities. As with all in the system of correspondence, a balance - justice - must be found. A benevolent light does not produce the calamitous magic necessitated to overpower and eliminate; it merely casts a light on the imperfections. It is only through ceremonies of hatred and destruction, of overwhelming power, that impurities are destroyed and pureblood can be introduced.

Adhering to the symbols of two evils, this ritual requires two stages for completion. The first stage introduces the vitriol power of Mars and causes an image of destruction to compel into a black abounding vitality, which can burn itself through the corporeal body, and destroy imperfections. The natural order of the universe must be disrupted to undo the connection to the physical body. At the witching hour, three hours past midnight, the ritual room is prepared by burning toxic henbane and black hellebore and inhaled deeply only by the hosted.

A host will need to be selected for the second part of the ritual. Purest of pureblood and born under at least three of the planets in Virgo, with Mars being one of them, to find celestial contention and restore balance. The host will be laid on a cloth of red and the illustrated runes drawn in blood onto the host's chest. Five Armanian carnelian agates will be placed around the hosted while five mossgate emeralds will be placed around the host.

Bloodletting should always begin on the hosted's left arm. An incision is made using an enchanted athame steeped in sacrificial dragon blood. Only bleed the hosted while speaking the incantation; the wound will be closed when the incantation is completed.

Using a second athame dipped in dragon blood, an incision is made on the host's left arm. The blood is collected in an inscribed Babylonian kyanite bowl. Discard the initial four bowls of blood from the host; these are not considered pure enough. The ritual requires the unstable, debaucherous power of 5. The fifth bowl will be taken immediately to the hosted, while the blood is still warm and energized, and will be dripped into the hosted's right arm by way of incision.

This ritual should be performed every other night until the blood imperfection can be otherwise destroyed.

If he was reading this correctly, the ritual would use a pureblood donor to cleanse the blood from Harry. It would be a temporary effect - meaning the cancer would quickly return - and need to be repeated every other night, but it could give them the time to find a way to cure the cancer permanently.

The wording surrounding this ritual made it clear as day that this was Dark Magic by requiring a blood - thankfully not a life - sacrifice, but again he was willing to take the risk, and the sacrifice, himself if he could. He summoned a large piece of parchment and laid it out on the table in front of him to start making a list of the things required for the event:

Pureblood. That one was pretty obvious, and something he unfortunately could not provide as a half-blood himself. Looking over to the sleeping Gryffindor, he knew Black would also do whatever he could to save Harry. He wrote "Black Family" on the parchment for later research to see if the Animagus matched the other celestial and astrological requirements. While Severus was not by any means sufficient in astrology, these measures were kept in every Hogwarts student's files, though he wouldn't have immediate access to the Gryffindor's at this hour. Turning his focus to the files he did have access to, his Slytherins who also happened to carry most of the pureblood "Sacred Twenty-Eight", he wrote down every pureblood name he could immediately think of that were in his house, not thinking - or caring - if they'd consent to this procedure, arrangements could be made to make it possible: Malfoy, Bulstrode, Flint, Greengrass, Nott, and Parkinson. Summoning the appropriate files, for once it didn't take him long to find his answer: Draco Malfoy matched every single requirement, and the fact that the two boys had managed some kind of truce between them after the Malfoy Christmas party incident meant there was some chance - even if were small - that he would agree to such a ritual. It was with that minuscule sense of relief that Severus found himself falling asleep over his files on the sitting room table.

"What's this?!" He was abruptly woken up from his sleeping spot on the table by Black's loud proclamation. Clearing the sleep from his eyes, proving that he couldn't have slept much more than three or four hours, he looked up to find the Gryffindor wizard standing over him holding the book with the ritual and his notes about Draco. Coming from a family that knew all about dark magic, he wasn't surprised when the other wizard continued, "This will work! It'll give us more time to fight!"

"We'd need Lucius's approval given that it's his son," Severus explained, stretching out his aching back. He really should not have allowed himself to fall asleep like that. "Not to mention he'd need to do this bloodletting every other day until we could find a cure for the cancer."

"Who cares?!" The other wizard practically yelled. "We'll force him if-"

"No."

The voice that spoke the single word that interrupted Sirius was said with so much conviction his heart broke from its meaning. Both adult wizards, practically enemies in normal circumstances who had come together for the child that had just come out from his bedroom, turned to find Harry still in his pyjamas shaking his head.

"Harry," Severus started, but was again interrupted as Harry looked over the book and ritual Sirius had handed him.

"I can't ask Malfoy, or any one to do this," the young wizard said with a pleading in his eyes that struck Severus to his core. It was their last chance and if Harry wasn't on board with it, it would mean…

"You can't give up," it was Sirius that said it because Severus already knew the answer. Harry wasn't giving up; he was choosing not to take anyone else down with him. While the ritual wouldn't likely kill the Malfoy heir, it would be unpleasant and probably painful for both teens. Not to mention they would all probably end up in Azkaban for it. "You know what will happen if you don't? Do you understand?"

Harry turned away from them, "Yes, I do. I'm going to die".

He wouldn't force Harry to do this. If he were going to force the Gryffindor to do anything, it should have been back when they were debating between the potions and chemotherapy. That crossroad was now long gone and he had to start accepting what was going to happen. He stood tall and confident, wrapping Harry in his strong arms and wasn't at all surprised when his son melted into them; something he hadn't done in years. They would be tested and challenged in the upcoming weeks, flowing fluidly between the stages of grief as they all adjusted to the news and realization of what was coming. Until finally on the 16th of May at half past three in the morning, it would all be over.

~~~~SS~~~~

Saturday 15 March, 1997

The dynamic between Severus and Healer Walker changed dramatically after the professor's epiphany about the potions error from his old reality on that first day. He used to lecture his students every year on the importance of the correct ingredient preparations and the effect it had on the potion's final result, and the fact that his life had been upended from that same mistake, was almost too much to bear. Luckily, the healer had picked up on his grief - without any context to it - and did her best to stay out of his way for just about everything. It began to eat away at his mind until that was the only thought that was left. Harry had been getting better until they made that single change to his regimen and at that point, he'd trusted the procedure so outside of confirming what the ingredients would do, he didn't put much other thought into it. Had he taken the time to really do his own research on it and looked through each individual step, would he have found the error? He was the youngest Potion's Master in Britain, he should not have been bested by Matthew of all people.

Those first two days went agonizingly slow for the pair of prisoners, made more extreme by the utter silence between them. Severus failed the first batch of the main potion, to which he could tell Nadine had her doubts in his ability. He couldn't really blame her since he knew he didn't look any better than Neville Longbottom with that first failed batch.

In the end, he used as much Occlumency as he could to push aside the invasive thoughts of Harry - both in this reality and the current situation they faced as well as his old one - and of Draco, specifically when he would be going back to Hogwarts. Unfortunately, Lucius had not been any of the Death Eaters left to guard their little cell, so he hadn't been able to ascertain any information on how the young wizard had fared and the details on his latest mission. There was a silver lining to all of this, and that was after looking through everything that had happened, he was fairly confident that if he could ensure Draco's safety, Lucius would help him escape. That idea took over all the others in his mind and helped him stay focused as he completed the first half - the more complicated half - of the round of potions sometime around two o'clock that morning.

"I was thinking about something you mentioned before," he said to his cellmate over a bowl of porridge for their breakfast. Those words were the most unsolicited he'd said to her since he started brewing on Thursday. The pair were sitting on their respective beds where they took their meals in an effort to just get away from the potions workbench for a while. Outside of the times the healer had been called upon to tend to the Dark Lord, they had hardly left the brewing process.

"And what is that?" she asked from the other side of the room.

"By making those small adjustments to the potions," he tried to hold the grief from his voice, but did not succeed in the slightest, "we can use that to our advantage."

He'd gone through many of the ways he could use this knowledge and essentially poison the Dark Lord. The evil wizard couldn't die, of course, because of the soul fragment in Harry - the one he'd definitely not be able to research how to remove from inside his cell - but if they consistently caused the increase of Leukemia cells, when the soul fragment was removed, with any luck nature would catch up and Voldemort would simply die from the cancer. The best part was that the professor knew from experience that it wouldn't take much to tip the scale fatally in their favor and with a few other small alterations to the formulas, he could easily drag the process out a little slower so the decline wasn't nearly as drastic as the other Harry's had been. The only major flaw was too glaring not to notice though and of course, Nadine was right on him with it.

"Unless you want him to kill you," she said pointedly, "he needs to start getting better, not worse. It's why Matthew was killed."

"Did Matthew actually make a set of potions that appeared correct?"

"Well…" she answered nervously, "not exactly."

"That was what got Matthew killed," he replied and then conceded in one point, "though if done correctly, it can appear subtle at least at the beginning."

"It won't work like that," she shook her head, "as the Leukemia cells take over, the symptoms will increase. There's no way to mask those while exacerbating the disease."

It was a flaw, however no plan was ever perfect at the start, and at this point they had time to figure out the minute details. If nothing else, it would give the former spy something to focus on besides his fatal error in his old reality, their current situation, Draco's next suicide mission, and how Harry was handling his last round of Phase Three chemotherapy. Today he would be learning what to expect in Maintenance and Severus had always assumed he'd be here with the young wizard as he had for every other phase. Now, not only was he not in the castle, but if he were, Harry wouldn't even want him there; a thought that was as equally overwhelming as knowing why Harry died in his old reality.

"It's a start," he told his cellmate a little frustrated with having to justify it to begin with, "and at this point, it's really the best one we have."

~~~~HP~~~~

"You need to eat, Harry," Professor McGonagall reminded the young Gryffindor at breakfast on Saturday morning as she placed a small cup of his morning tablets down. Somehow the fact that they knew his feeding tube was getting removed before today's chemotherapy made it seem more important to her that he finished his breakfast. "Dr Swanson will be here any minute."

For Harry, the last two days were a complete blur. For once, he had no problem adhering to his bed rest, however he'd not had more than a couple hours of sleep since he woke up Thursday morning magicless. Most of the time when he tried to fall asleep, his brain was either racing too fast with all the thoughts of things going on - primarily his magic and Snape, both because of his capture and the prophecy - or he was plagued with nightmares of the memories or visions he'd seen from Voldemort. He was tired, he was angry, and he had zero inclination to talk to anyone about it, no matter how many times his friends had asked.

So when McGonagall prompted him to finish his breakfast, he merely nodded, not trusting his voice to stay steady or himself not to lash out unintentionally at her. She was only really his guardian on paper after all and hadn't voluntarily signed up for any of this. It was simply the easiest way to keep the Boy-Who-Lived out of the Ministry's control and on July 31st, when he turned 17, he would officially be on his own as she would have no more ties to him either legally or as his Head of House. It should have made the conversation with Dr Swanson - when she did arrive only a few minutes later - all the more important to pay attention to, but he found himself having a difficult time concentrating as she sat across from him explaining what would happen starting next week while his one hour IV was working.

"Harry," the muggle doctor reached out and placed a hand on his knee. They were all in the sitting room which was already throwing him off as he was sitting perpendicular to the fireplace instead towards it as he would have been back home. "How have the last couple of days been?"

How did she think they'd been?! He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, but instead he cleared his throat - that was now free from the nasogastric tube - and spoke almost in a trace, "It's been alright, I guess. As much as it can be given the circumstances."

"You know you can talk to me about it," Professor McGonagall added, "I'm always here to listen. I know how close you and Severus had gotten and now with the magic loss… it's a lot to sort through."

"Thank you, Minerva," he mumbled and then steeled his emotions further to get through the day, "I'm alright, though. Can we just talk about what's coming next?"

He knew the two women across from him didn't want to continue, that they wanted to ask him what was going on in his head with everything. If it were Alton sitting there about to go over his next phase it probably wouldn't have gone on any further, but Dr Swanson wasn't taking his dismissal.

"Have you been sleeping these last two nights?"

The pointed question threw him off balance. Why did she have to ask things so matter of factly? And then there was McGonagall's sad eyes looking guilty that she hadn't thought to ask him how he'd been sleeping. He didn't want to let her down.

"Of course I have," he lied, "I just need some time to… sort through everything going on."

"No one needs to know about your magic, Harry," McGonagall reassured him. And he nodded because that was what was expected of him. It was only a matter of time until the school picked up on what had happened. When he didn't show back up to classes next year, or the year after and he went to live in the muggle world, they would know.

"I'm going to leave something to help you sleep," she handed a small slip of paper to his guardian. "That's the name of an over the counter sleep aid. Cut the tablet in half and give it to him thirty minutes before bed." She paused and when it seemed no one had anything else to add, she continued with the purpose of her visit, "Today is your last round of Phase Three and it should be a relatively easy one for you.

"Then, on the 29th, in two weeks, given how positive today's test results were, you're going to officially start Maintenance. This phase will be done in what's called 'cycles' instead of rounds, and each cycle consists of 12-weeks which will be repeated for approximately three years from the start of Phase Two of consolidation."

"That's a scary number," Harry found himself saying out loud. "Is three years really necessary?"

"Unfortunately it is," she answered sympathetically. "Studies have shown that there's a high relapse rate if all of Maintenance is not completed, and for males that's three years worth of treatments."

"So what does this consist of?" McGonagall asked. While she'd been involved in the previous conversations like this, it was her first time being fully responsible for his schedule and even that wasn't really true. Snape had taken control of it in the past, but Harry needed to step up this time because in only a few short months, the witch would no longer be responsible for Harry.

"In some ways, it's far easier to understand," Dr Swanson gave a small smile, "however we see the most non-compliance in this phase because of how spread out the schedule is compared to your previous treatment. It's easy to forget tablet doses or miss IV treatments.

"As you can see, each cycle consists of a combination of three different chemotherapy tablets, three IV treatments - one per month - and two IT's in the first year dropping down to one per cycle for the final two years. Make sense so far?"

Harry thought hard about what she's just told him, knowing he'd need to manage this himself. Every three months he would start another cycle of Maintenance treatment and each month would have a set of three chemotherapy tablets, one or two IT, and one IV.

"Yeah," he confidently replied, looking down at the schedule he'd been given. "So far, so good."

"Perfect. We'll start with the tablets first and go easiest to hardest: you'll take one specific tablet every single night for the entirety of Maintenance phase. It should be taken about an hour after you eat dinner and I recommend, at least at the beginning, to set an alarm every night after you finish dinner and eventually it will become a habit.

"Then for the first five days of each month, to make it easy it will be the day you do your IV treatment plus the next four days, twice a day you'll take the same medication as at the beginning of this phase-" she noticed Harry's exasperated face and added, "- yes, it's the one that made you irritable, but you're only doing five days of it with three weeks in between, and only two tablets instead of three per day, so hopefully you'll have a better reaction. If not, let me know and we can look at ways to help."

"Thank you," the young wizard mumbled because the last thing he wanted was a week out of each month spent being as aggressive as he was back in the beginning of February.

"The last tablet you'll have will be one on the first of each week between the IV treatments," she flipped over the schedule and Harry did the same. "The IVs are easy to remember. They're only once per month and I have you scheduled to do them on Saturday mornings so you'll have the weekend to recover and hopefully you'll be able to get back to some kind of 'new normal' once you finish the adjustment period. So one cycle will be three rounds of IV treatments followed by three Saturdays open, which is when you'll take the third tablet: on each of those open Saturdays.

"Lastly, the intrathecal treatments. For the first year, or four cycles, you'll do an IT with your first two IV treatments. For cycles five to twelve, it will only be the first IV of the cycle, or once every three months."

Not for the first time Harry wished Snape was here. He always knew exactly what to say when he'd felt so overwhelmed by the schedule. Just as Dr Swanson said, it was a more complicated schedule to keep track of with the two switching tablets every month, but the rest was easier: IVs once a month and ITs once - or twice for the first year - every three months.

"So then after the IV treatment on the 29th, I won't see you again until…." he trailed off in thought.

"You won't see me for a whole month," Dr Swanson laughed. "Believe it or not, Harry, the best part of my job is watching a patient walk away and not having to see them again."

He could understand that and looked forward to the day when that would be him.

"What are the odds that it will come back?" Harry found himself asking. He knew it had to be a common question, but he felt himself flush with embarrassment by how juvenile it sounded.

"In patients who finish all of Maintenance," she emphasized the word all, "then over nine times out of ten, we don't see a relapse."

That was enough to fuel him for the rest of the day. Yes, he still had a long way to go - years ahead of him still - but the light at the end of the tunnel was there if he could stay positive and focused, and make sure he made his appointments. The best part though, and what he tried to stay focused on, was after the eight weeks he's just gone through, he had two full weeks coming up without a single thing going on, not even classes.

"Any word on Draco," Harry asked Dudley when his cousin stopped by to see him later that evening. The nausea had started to hit him and somehow he got the feeling his friends had made some kind of rotation to visit with him ever since things with Snape happened. It was Dudley's turn and they were now playing a game of Wizards Chess that Dudley absolutely loved.

"Not much," Dudley replied, "the most we've heard is talk of him back at his mansion. Hermione's a right mess over it all."

"I just can't think that he had anything to do with all of this," Harry said, as he leaned back against his bed trying to push through the nausea, "he was with me most of the night, plus he didn't even know I was going to take him to the Room of Requirement."

"Dunno what to tell you, Harry," the other boy said. "It's your turn, by the way."

The Gryffindor was completely unfocused on the board between them and his pieces were getting antsy waiting on their next move.

"Sorry, guys," Harry said to the board, "we're done for the day." All the little pieces started shuffling along as they made their way back, all the while complaining about the unfinished game. "As if I need anyone else to disappoint."

Dudley gave his cousin the exact look that Harry absolutely hated, before he said, "Maybe you and me should just leave here? I've been thinking about what I'm going to do after this year, if I don't want to stay as a teaching assistant, and now with Professor Snape gone and your…"

"Magic gone," Harry finished for the other boy, "you can say it, Dudley. I have to get used to it at some point."

"Err….well, yeah," he replied, "We can get jobs, and a flat somewhere together. My parents left some money behind for me, it's not a lot, but enough to get us started."

Harry looked down at his intertwined hands. He didn't know what to think about Dudley's offer; it was one of the nicest things his cousin had ever offered. Unfortunately before he could answer, he ended up sick in the pail without even bothering to get out of bed. Dudley briefly left and came back with a goblet of ginger ale.

"Thanks," the young wizard said after taking a sip and feeling his stomach starting to settle, "I'll keep that in mind, but with only a muggle primary school education, I'm not exactly sure what jobs I'll be qualified to get."

"Good point. I dunno how that works."

Harry wasn't sure either and he was trying not to think too much about it now. Most people who left Hogwarts didn't attempt to get jobs in the muggle world, but he would have a minimum of three years before he could unlock his other magic - assuming Snape didn't die from Voldemort before telling someone how to release the soul fragment - and he'd have to do something in all of that time that didn't include sitting around waiting for his monthly treatment. Not only that, he still had Voldemort trying to kill him - the irony of which almost made him laugh - and he'd need to stay inside the school wards to be protected. That left only one option: staying with McGonagall, or maybe his own set of quarters, continuing to get his chemotherapy here at that castle.

"And what about Susan?" Harry asked to try and change the subject. "You don't want to stay here for her last year?"

Immediately, Dudley flushed, "Well, I don't really know…"

Harry gave a small chuckle, not because of how embarrassed his cousin was, but because it was sort of endearing to see Dudley so comfortable with Hogwarts as well as with himself. Susan - more so than any of the other Hufflepuff girls in his year - would help keep his muggle cousin grounded and bring out the best in the teen. Harry didn't necessarily know anything about his cousin's past relationships and that was a sad reality due to their past; something both teens had put behind them months ago. Harry would never be able to forget how he'd been treated, but it was just in his nature to give people a second - or third or fourth - chance even if they didn't necessarily deserve it. Snape would tell him it was because of his neglected upbringing and that was a truth Harry had a hard time rationalizing. Trying not to focus on the negative, deciding he had enough of that in his mind already, he listened to Dudley tell him all about his Muggle Studies classes, how things were going with Susan Bones, and picturing just what living on his own with Dudley - without Voldemort hanging over his head - could look like. Before he managed to fall asleep in the middle of their one-sided conversation, he thought the picture in his head of the two of them living together in a flat in London didn't sound too bad after all.

~~~~SS~~~~

"Get up!"

Severus was knocked awake rather pointedly around seven in the evening on Saturday. He'd finally finished up the last of the potions required for the first week sometime around three that afternoon. With no windows - real or enchanted - he was able to get at least a couple of hours of sleep before his rather harsh awakening by none other than Lucius Malfoy.

He cracked his eyes open to the Patriarch's same pale and pointed face as Draco's, only his was filled with aged lines giving away his years of stress that the other wizard tried diligently not to show. The professor wasn't a stranger to those lines, having plenty of his own in both realities, this one from the Dark Lord and from Harry in his old reality. He found he much preferred those of his old reality because it meant his life was filled with meaning - worry and concern over his son - and the former spy found himself questioning what caused Lucius's lines. Severus's future plans depended on taking advantage of the concern he saw Lucius had for Draco, so he truly hoped they were also related to his son.

Casually, he sat up in his bed making no move to show that the other wizard elicited a sense of panic within him; Severus refused to give anyone that much control over his own actions. Yes, he'd ultimately obey because right now his purpose required him to stay alive, however he wouldn't give his captors the satisfaction of causing him anxiety over the situation. Nadine, he noticed, did not share his mentality as she quickly jumped out of her bed the moment Lucius started talking.

"I'm to take you both to the Dark Lord. He's expecting me in a matter of minutes," his former colleague cryptically explained. To Severus, that meant he was getting told that they didn't have long to talk. "I trust the potions are completed."

Without looking towards the stock, which was exactly what Lucius would have expected him to do thus giving away their status, he said, "You've given me three days to brew eight extremely difficult potions, a task that his previous brewer couldn't do over a course of several months."

A sinister smile crossed the blonde's face, "And I have no doubt you've been able to complete them."

The air between them practically stood still as they continued to stare at one another; Lucius standing ominously over the professor who was still seated on his mattress. Both wizards had learned how to survive through experiences in the harshest of environments and at first neither was willing to give in. Severus would have bet his measly vault amount that he'd have to break the silence first, so when Lucius spoke next it legitimately surprised him.

"He's getting sent back tomorrow," the Death Eater stealthily said. The former spy took notice that it would be a day later than the Dark Lord's original demand, and wondered what caused the delay. "I've been told alternative arrangements had been made on my family's account. Narcissa has given me a great deal of… things to consider as I've now inadvertently endangered those plans."

Unless he could find some way to communicate with Dumbledore, he would guarantee Draco would be detained probably indefinitely by the Order - Moody specifically - and their plans to go into hiding would fall through. By now the guard had to have seen Draco somewhere on the premises here and the teen would be assumed to be part of his capture. No one would give the teen the benefit of the doubt that he was in an impossible situation and needed help, but if he could get the Malfoys into hiding as planned before the Dark Lord's patience on Harry's capture, then it would save both of his students' lives.

"Do you know any of the details?" It was a risk asking Lucius to trust him so bluntly and Nadine's confused expression spotlighted that fact.

"He'll be dropped first thing in the morning," Lucius lowered his voice as he took a quick check over his shoulder. "They've altered the bracelet to act as surveillance. No one's been told if there's an audio or visual component, or both."

So he needed to assume it was both, however knowing Rabastan's level of charms he more likely than not botched the visual component. It would be too much of a risk to assume that, which meant whatever was said or done had to appear as natural as possible. Leaving only one option - his distress call.

When Severus started his life as a double agent in the first war, Albus provided him a way to tell the leader of the Order when he was currently under duress; that he was being used or monitored, but not necessarily that his cover had been compromised. It seemed nebulous at the time as he always assumed if it was ever needed, he'd be long dead before he got a chance to use it. Now, it would work in his benefit because when Albus recognized the, hopefully not long forgotten, gesture and phrase he would know that Draco was still on their side, however they needed to act accordingly or risk compromising the teen.

"He'll be detained," Severus said point blank, "and interrogated more so than he had ever been before."

"I am aware of that fact," revulsion crossed the blonde's face and the professor wasn't sure if it was at the Order or the Dark Lord. "It's probably for the best. Once his incentive is here, there is nothing left to keep Draco alive."

Severus emitted a low growl; Harry was not some chess piece being played for each sides' strategic benefit. In chess, pieces were often sacrificed for the greater good and he refused to let the Gryffindor get used like that. He didn't want to let Draco be used that way either, however that was already impossible. Sticking to his tried and true method of solving the problem directly in front of him, lest he feel overwhelmed by the sheer vastness of their predicament, he focused on getting Draco - and his parents - into hiding. If he could secure that, somehow with a Death Eater watching and or listening, he would consider it a miracle; and Severus didn't believe in miracles.

"Listen carefully, I will only say this once and there's a very large chance it won't work, but it's the best choice you have," the former Death Eater told his friend. "He needs to spill a pot of ink and then tell the headmaster, and this is important, 'I'm afraid you'll need to get another pot of ink'."

Immediately Severus knew the wizard standing in front of him thought he'd lost his mind. Instead of stating such a fact though, he lifted his head just enough for Severus to know he'd understood. When the professor stood to get the potions, Healer Walker was watching him intently like she saw him as a traitor to the small camaraderie they managed to build in their prison cell. With the box of phials in his hands, he nodded that he was ready to face the Dark Lord and whatever was coming his way.

"What do you think you're doing?!" The healer angrily whispered to him as they were walking down the quiet, dark corridor heading, predictably, to the drawing room. "He's one of them."

"I'm getting us allies," he whispered back, keeping a close eye on Lucius marching behind them, "which is the only way we have any chance of getting out here alive once the Dark Lord is cured." He paused as they made a hard turn, approaching their destination before adding, "And don't forget, I used to be one of them… and the more you know about your opponent, the better off you are."

The fact that Severus had been good enough to complete the complicated potions in only three days time meant nothing as he kneeled before the Dark Lord to present them, and he'd been vaguely ignored as the healer went to work. This was his first time seeing Healer Walker in action, though she'd been summoned each day from their cell to tend to the ill wizard, and he was surprised at how alert and professional she managed to stay given the circumstances of her imprisonment. He was brought back to the vision Harry had back in November about her capture - and Lucius's role in it, giving a bit more context to her animosity towards the Malfoy heir - and he was filled with a deep sorrow about how long she'd been here. The Order hadn't tried to rescue her as they did the Smithe's and now he felt a sense of responsibility and duty to get them out of there safely.

Draco's safety first, which will lead to Harry's safety, and then I can get us out of here.

It was a perfectly laid out plan, which naturally meant there was no chance of it actually happening so seamlessly. The first snag was predictable, even if it occurred far earlier than he had expected. As Healer Walker explained each potion, its purpose, and dosage, the Dark Lord because irate at the fact that he'd need to take these eight potions daily for the next two or three years. Later, Severus would look back at what he did next with embarrassment thinking that somehow Harry's Gryffindor tendency had rubbed off onto him somehow.

"You have a muggle disease," the former Death Eater called out just seconds before the evil wizard cast the Cruciatus Curse on the healer for nothing more than being the bearer of news he didn't like, "did you really think you'd take one set of potions and be done with it?"

The curse that was meant for Nadine was then turned onto him, but instead of the Cruciatus he was preparing for, he heard a loud crack as the bone in his left leg was instantly broken and he fell to the ground. Fighting the urge to pass out from the pain, he used his Occlumency to stay present and awake, refusing to give the Dark Lord that satisfaction. Unfortunately, that meant he was awake for the rest of his supposedly deserved punishment.

"You didn't have to do that," the healer later said as she tended to his broken femur as well as the plethora of cuts and bruises some of his other choice words had earned him, "it's not like I hadn't been subjected to the Cruciatus before."

He didn't doubt that and he thought she probably would have been better off dead than living under the conditions he was sure she had been in all of these months. He had enough self-preservation not to say that to the woman currently healing him the best she could without a wand - and a femur was harder to wandlessly heal than a rib, so, at best, he'd be limping on it for a couple of days - and with a basic supply of healing potions.

"I'm fine," he claimed and declined the use of any of their limited potions, "the rest will heal on their own."

"Your choice," she said, almost defeated, going back to her bed. "What do we do now? There's no way we can make the potions work faster, it's just not possible."

It was their latest "task" assigned to the pair during the week before the next set of potions were needed: to decrease the time it took for the regimen to work in clearing the Leukemia.

"We poison him by using the old method of the main potion. I have it on good authority that it will take approximately six weeks for the Leukemia cells to reach maximum damage," Severus directly said, ignoring the frustrated face of his cellmate.

"For being the 'youngest Potion's Master in Britain'-" she used air quotes as she said it, "-you sure are daft... That. Will. Make. Him. Sicker."

Her emphasis on the last five words only made the plan in his head sound more enticing. Somewhere in the middle of the curses and hexes thrown at him by the Dark Lord earlier, he'd come up with this crazy idea. It was a last chance effort - as it was when he'd searched for it originally in his old reality - but he had determined that while it would probably get him killed in the end, it would allow them the time to secretly poison the Dark Lord to the point where no potions could help and he'd basically live the rest of his life in misery; it would slow him and the Death Eaters down and right now that's what the Order needed. For the best outcome, he wished he could find a way to have Minerva research how to remove the soul fragment safely sooner rather than later, even though it would risk Harry's magic in the future. The tides had turned away from their favor and he couldn't risk Harry's life for his magic and therefore the Dark Lord had to go as quickly as possible.

"Then we buy our time as long as we can. I happen to know about a very specific ritual which will help mask the fatal threshold of the Leukemia cells. If we play our hand right, we can convince him it will shorten the duration of his potions," he replied and smiled at the healer across from him that he was sure would only aid in her questioning of his stable mental health. "What do you know about the Blood Cleansing Ritual?"