Harry sat in the hospital bed the next morning, still in his full going out of the house glamour, picking at the clear dressing from the tube Healer Smithe just placed in the top of his hand. According to Snape, who was sitting in the chair next to his bed signing what appeared to be a textbook worth of paperwork, this was an IV and would be used to administer the medication to knock him out. Snape may have said "put you to sleep" to make it sound a bit nicer, but either way the IV hurt which just confirmed to himself why the port was a good idea in the first place. Right now there was something in it to hydrate him.

He was trying his hardest not to think about what was about to happen. He was going to be unconscious, cut open, and a small device placed into his chest - specifically attached into a vein towards his heart - all while having zero control of what was happening around him. This was not something he could spend too much energy thinking about.

So naturally, while trying to avoid thinking about the immediate future, he instead was thinking of the immediate past, which wasn't much better. Yes, Snape had mentioned last night that he'd "spoken with his aunt and uncle" and they basically couldn't tell him what to do anymore, but that didn't stop them from making his co-existence with them extremely uncomfortable. Take this morning for example, when conveniently his door had been "accidentally" locked last night which meant he had to wait until an angry Snape had come to supposedly "wake him up before they were late" only to find him trapped in the room. Aunt Petunia's face was bright red for the entire angry-lecture she received from Snape. Harry knew it wouldn't matter in the end; for one it was always Uncle Vernon that locked his door at night, and for two if it's not the locked door today it will be something else tomorrow.

Then of course, there was what Harry referred to as the immediate-immediate past. When he was told shortly after arriving at the hospital that a side effect of the chemo can leave him unable to have children in the future. So, sitting next to his professor, he had to decide if there was even a chance he wanted to have children someday - not something normal almost 16 year old boys think about - and if so, then he needed to go and "deposit"... It was an event he could have done without experiencing, but at least the potential future baby Potters are now secure.

Having run out of things to think about, he started picking at the clear dressing on the top of his hand and walking through different spells he knew and what they did.

"If you pick that off, they're going to have to remove it and do it again," came Snape's monotone voice from the chair beside his bed, not even looking up from the papers he was reading and subsequently signing.

He dropped his hand dramatically from picking the dressing, "That's a lot of stuff you have to go through."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say since Snape just looked up without lifting his head and glared, that is definitely a glare this time, at Harry.

"Yes, it would seem they want to have confirmation that at least one person knows what's going to happen with you."

That was either the third or fourth time Snape had brought up the fact that Harry hadn't read through the pamphlets about his cancer, treatment, or port.

Harry just rolled his eyes, "I did read through it this morning, while I was waiting to be let out of my room."

Also not the right thing to say by the angry look in Snape's glamoured blue eyes. Harry had seen that look plenty of times in class, but it just wasn't the same on his Mr. Evan's face and he almost laughed. Both of them would be happy to no longer need to assume their new identities every single day.

There was a soft knock on the door drawing Harry's attention away from Snape's mountain of paperwork.

"Good morning, Harry. How are you doing today?" Healer Smithe asked in his optimistic voice. He was wearing a set of green scrubs, which Harry knew from catching one of Aunt Petunia's hospital shows, and a white coat over them. This was the first time he looked like a full muggle doctor instead of a magical healer.

"A little nervous if I'm being honest," Harry gave a nervous chuckle.

"Not to worry, everything will be very quick and easy today. You'll be back home before you know it. Professor Snape mentioned you had some leg pain yesterday. Can you tell me more about that?" He was looking through Harry's chart and presumably getting ready to write down what Harry was going to tell him.

"Erm, not much to tell sir," Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "My leg has had this dull achy feel for a while now. Not all the time, but enough to notice. And yesterday when I was doing my chores, it was a sharp pain. Professor Snape got some of the pain relievers and it was back to the dull ache this morning."

"I'm glad the medicine helped. Don't feel like you need to wait out in pain, if you need something to help, let Severus know, that's what the medication is there for- to help," the healer emphasized. "Like the nosebleeds, fatigue, and bruising we discussed at your first appointment, bone pain is very common with ALL; it's the build up of the bad cells crowding in the marrow putting pressure on the bone from the inside."

"Professor Snape mentioned that yesterday," Harry was playing with a string on the blanket overtop his legs. This was getting too real.

Standing up, Snape handed the book of papers over to the healer, "Everything looks in order and signed. He's ready to go." Something about Snape signing off on his procedure made Harry's stomach drop. It was a good thing he wasn't allowed to eat otherwise he was sure it would have come up by now.

"Ok, Harry. A quick overview of what you can expect," Healer Smithe was going into his healer-lecture mode, "we're going to do the port first. It will go here," he touched just below Harry's right collar bone, "and will be about the size of a quarter. The area will be tender, or sore, but it shouldn't hurt. You will be able to feel and see it so please brace yourself for that; it can be a shock for some people when they wake up.

"After the port is in, we're going to go ahead and do the first Intrathecal chemotherapy. It's a combination therapy consisting of three medications that will be injected directly into the spinal cord. That process could be up to 30 minutes. Side effects you might experience are headache, nausea with or without vomiting, fever, and less likely some sensitivity to light." He looked up at Harry with a small promising smile. "Any questions?"

"No, I don't think so." Harry tried to ignore the unevenness of his voice and small shaking in his arms. Grabbing some of his Gryffindor bravery, he said, "Let's do this."

"Great attitude. Let me go call in the anesthesiologist, who is the doctor that will be overseeing the medicine to put you to sleep," for some reason Harry didn't expect another doctor to be involved, so he looked over at Snape for reassurance.

"There's going to be several new, muggle doctors in there which is why we're still wearing the glamours," he said slowly keeping eye contact with Harry's worried eyes. "All of them have been checked and vetted by both myself and the Headmaster. You have no reason to worry about your safety."

"Oh good."

Another knock on the door and Healer Smithe returned with another man dressed in the same green scrubs and white coat. He was an older gentleman with a fit build, short white hair, and brown eyes less kind-looking than Healer Smithe's.

"Hello Mr. Evans, my name is Dr. Clavin. You're getting a port for chemotherapy inserted correct?" The new Dr said quickly looking over his file.

"Yes, sir."

"Can you confirm your birthday for me?" He asked flipping pages in the chart barely looking at Harry.

"31st July, 1980."

With that, Dr. Clavin looked up at Harry for the first time. He furrowed his eyebrows while examining him. Shaking his head he commented, "Barely 16; I don't know how you do it Smithe."

Harry's eyes widened at the insensitive comment. He looked over at Snape as if to say this guy's in charge of my care?

Dr. Clavin hooked up a bag on the metal stand next to Harry's bed and started messing with the I.V. tubing. Harry was relieved to see Snape paying very close attention to what was being done.

Harry felt the back of the hospital bed lower and before he knew it, he was staring up at Healer Smithe and Dr. Clavin, while Snape stood up next to his bed.

"Ok, we're going to start the anesthesia now Harry," Healer Smithe explained noticing Harry was shaking a bit. "I need you to count backwards from 100."

"Oh, sure," Harry said, feeling nervous. "100... 99... 98... 97... 96... 95... " the numbers seemed harder to remember in the right order, "ninety-fffourr... Ninet..."

Harry couldn't say the next number as his eyes started to slowly blink close. The last thing he remembered was how much less nervous he felt as the blackness crept up and took over.

"...mmmh..."

"...rry..."

"...Harry?"

"...ake up..."

Harry could hear bits and pieces around him as he started waking up. He was laying flat on his back and as his eyes tried to open, he could tell the lights above him had been dimmed. Trying again to open his eyes, he was surprised by how quickly the surgery had gone, maybe they ran into a problem and couldn't finish?

"Harry?" He heard a familiar, kind voice.

"Harry, can you hear me?" The kind voice asked again, much closer this time. "You can open your eyes."

This time he forced his eyes to open and could only see a blurry blob in front of him. He felt around for his glasses, but his hands didn't go much further than his sides. He could feel the pull of the IV in the top of his hand every time he moved his right arm looking for his glasses.

"Here you go Harry," the kind voice said again this time it slipped his glasses onto his face for him.

Opening his eyes once his glasses were in place, the face in front of him was one of the last faces he expected to see.

"Remus?" Harry asked. He had to be dreaming or something. Standing over his looking down was Remus Lupin. He was wearing a worn brown jumper which seemed out of place in the middle of summer. His eyes were filled with concern as he gave Harry a weak smile.

"Welcome back Harry," Remus said quietly as if Harry might still have been sleeping.

Harry tried to sit up, but his former professor put a hand on his shoulder and gently held him back down.

"Stay laying Harry, the Healer said you need to stay that way for another 10 minutes so the medicine can distribute properly," he pulled the chair up to Harry's bedside and sat back down, his hand still on Harry's shoulder comfortingly.

"So everything went ok? I thought because it was so fast, something was wrong."

Remus gave the young wizard a small smile, "It's the sleeping medicine they gave you. It makes it seem like no time has passed. It's been a couple hours. And yes, everything went just fine."

Harry yawned and turned his head to the side. "What are you doing here? I mean, I didn't mean it like-"

Laughing, Remus interrupted him, "Don't worry about it Harry. Severus asked me to come; he thought you'd like to see a friendlier face when you came out of surgery. I hope that's ok."

"Absolutely," Harry exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as he could manage, which admittingly wasn't much. "Um...did he explain to you about... You know, what's going on?"

He held onto Harry's left hand and squeezed it. "He did, I hope you don't mind. I'm glad he told me though, so I could be here."

"Thank you," he didn't care what his healer said, he still felt embarrassed about it all.

"How are you feeling?"

Harry took a deep breath, "Really tired; most of the day I'm really tired."

"We'll get you better really soon. Just hang in there," Harry was pretty sure that Remus had no idea what the process was going to be like, but he didn't want to say anything. He just smiled at the man who was one of his father's best friends.

He heard the door open and turned his head to look. Walking in was Healer Smithe and Snape.

"Good afternoon young man," the healer greeted excitedly. "How are you feeling?"

"Still a bit groggy and a bit sore, like I slept in a wrong position or something." His lower back and chest were definitely feeling like something had happened. He didn't want to think of the details right now. If he could just avoid thinking about it, maybe it wouldn't be real.

"That's to be expected. You may feel more once you wake up a bit. We also gave you some pain reliever so once that wears off, don't feel bad asking for some more," Healer Smithe explained.

"When can I leave?"

The healer lifted the top of his bed so he was now, at least, in a sitting position. "You'll be able to head home in about an hour. We want to make sure you don't have any negative reactions to the chemo you got, and then you can go."

"Cool," was all Harry could think to say.

He looked past Remus and saw Snape sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. He was reading a potions journal, seemingly in his own world, but Harry knew he was paying close attention. He thought back on Remus's statement that Snape asked him to come. Not for the first time since seeing the professor in the hospital wing before term ended, he thought something strange was going on with the man he'd mutually hated for almost 6 years. Closing his eyes, he decided to table the thoughts about the potions professor; they would see plenty of each other in the coming weeks and he could find time to question him about the strange behavior.

Harry hadn't realized he had fallen back asleep until she heard Remus's soft voice say, "Harry, it's time to go."

Cracking his eyes open a little, the lights still dimmed in the room, he saw Remus, Snape, and Healer Smithe surrounding his bed. Feeling like an animal at the zoo, his eyes went wide.

"Sorry sir," he said sheepishly. He could feel a headache coming on and he rubbed his temple with his right hand. The IV had been removed while he was sleeping and he'd fallen asleep with his glasses still on his face, which always hurt when he woke up.

Swinging his feet off the bed, he definitely felt worse than before he took the small cat nap. Remus grabbed his arm to help steady him as he stood up. Harry instinctively touched his right chest where he felt a sharp pain when he moved; that's when he felt it - a small hard circle, about the size of a quarter as Healer Smithe said it would be - underneath a white, soft piece of cotton. It didn't hurt necessarily, but the area around it was sore and in general his body recognized something was there that should not have been there. He looked up and if possible, the 3 men were looking at him more intently than before, waiting to see how the young wizard would react.

"You will get used to it," Healer Smithe ventured, being the first to draw attention to the port. "It will feel strange at first, but your body will adjust and you won't notice it after a while."

Harry only nodded, not trusting his voice not to betray his scared emotion about the foreign object in his body that would be distributing a poison directly into his veins. He shuttered, which caused his head to ache some more.

Snape handed Harry a cup filled with water, "It's very important to stay hydrated. You were getting fluids in your IV before."

He took a small sip, feeling good on his throat he hadn't known was dry. The water hit his stomach hard, after not eating since last night, plus his headache, his stomach was roiling.

"Thank you sir. Can we go now?" Snape gave him a questionable look, but shook his head. The curtains around his bed were then closed so he could get dressed to leave.

"If it's ok Severus," Harry heard Remus from the other side of the curtain, "I'd like to help get Harry settled."

Harry strained to hear Snape's response as he put on his shirt without looking down at the port. He wanted to see it the first time by himself; it wasn't like he could forget about it, every time he lifted his arm the skin was pulled tight over the device.

"Of course," he heard Snape finally say without the expected grumble.

When Harry finally made it back to his aunt's house, he was pretty sure apparating almost killed him. Now with an awful headache, his stomach flip-flopping all over his insides, and his body sore, he was happy that he'd not have to do that for every treatment.

Since it was Saturday, he had the pleasure of all his relatives home when he walked into the door. As expected, they were in the sitting room watching the telly.

"Who is that you're bringing in now boy?" Uncle Vernon bellowed seeing Remus walk into the house with Harry.

"Remus," Harry introduced quickly, "that's Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley."

Snape came in behind, closing the door and removing his and Harry's glamours. "Take him into the kitchen and see if you can find something he'll eat," Snape ordered walking up the stairs to do who-knew-what.

Harry deposited himself into a chair at the table avoiding his relatives' beady stares at him. Let them watch. Harry laid his head onto the table willing his headache, at this point maybe a migraine, to go away. He could hear the clanking of pots and pans as Remus was cooking something for Harry to eat and before he knew it, there was a small plate of scrambled eggs and a cup of apple juice sitting in front of him.

"Thank you Remus, but I'm really not hungry." He spoke into the table.

"You need to eat something Harry. Even if it's just a small bite here or there." A sound of concern could be heard in Remus's voice.

"I appreciate it Remus, I really do," Harry pleaded, "but if I eat now, I'm pretty sure it will come right back up."

"You need to try," Remus rubbed his back which angered Harry for some reason.

"Easy for you to say," he mumbled back, finally lifting his head.

Dudley waddled into the kitchen, knocking the right side of Harry's chair as he passed, causing the port site to sting sharply. Harry hissed at the sudden pain.

"Well," Dudley opportunistically said grabbing for the plate, "if he's not going to eat-"

"Drop it," Snape warned grabbing the plate from Dudley's swollen fingers and placing it back in front of Harry, along with a small cup of pills "Eat, then take these."

"What are these?" He asked looking into the cup at the six pills sitting in it.

"Vitamin, pain reliever- there are two of those, antibiotic, antiviral, and antiemetic." Appearing satisfied that Harry would indeed take the medications, he went back upstairs. Probably to avoid Remus as much as possible.

Struggling to eat the eggs partially due to his headache/nausea, partially due to Remus watching him, he took each of the medications in the cup and was down right exhausted but so sick of sleeping all the time. He wondered what he was going to do most of the summer, probably work on summer assignments.

"Remus," Harry started very quietly broaching the topic he'd been avoiding, "I wanted to say... I mean I just... I'm sorry. About Sirius."

Remus leaned over placing both hands on Harry's shoulders, "Listen to me carefully Harry," he said, grief filling his voice, "I don't blame you, at all, for what happened."

Harry expected this, Remus was too nice to say otherwise.

"If only I didn't-"

"Harry, listen," he spoke ,"Sirius knew what he was getting himself into the moment he left headquarters, understand? The only people responsible for his death is you-know-who and Bellatrix."

"But Remus-"

"No!" Remus finally yelled. "Get that notion out of your mind. He would not want you thinking like that, he wouldn't blame you Harry. Forgive yourself, please."

Uncle Vernon stood up and as quickly as a man the size of a walrus could, approached the table. "Out!" He yelled to Remus.

"Excuse me Mr. Dursley?" Remus was being far too nice for what Uncle Vernon deserved.

"I said you're out," he pointed to Remus, "I've had enough of your kind in my house!"

Harry almost laughed imagining what his face would look like if he knew the former DADA professor was a werewolf in addition to a wizard. Remus wasn't as amused and Harry reminded himself that the man wasn't used to the way his relatives thought about magic.

"It's ok Remus," Harry said comfortingly. "You should go."

"Ok Harry. I'm headed out on...," He eyed Vernon and Petunia, "headed somewhere for Dumbledore, but I'll stay in touch when I can. You take care of yourself, you hear. Try to listen to Severus, ultimately he means well."

Harry was overly confused about the last sentence and thinking about it made his headache worse. He stood up and gave Remus a hug

"Thank you for being here today. It meant a lot."

"Anytime Harry," he held his hand on the back of Harry's head. Pulling away he added, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Stay safe."

Standing with his relatives surrounding him, knowing that if they messed with him the very agitated potentially-dark wizard upstairs would hex them into next week, he felt very much alone.

"I'll be in my room," he said to no one in particular and he walked out to the stairs.

Halfway up the stairs he started to feel very flush; his head was pounding with the beat of his heart, and his stomach felt heavy with the small lunch he'd eaten. He ran up the rest of the stairs into the, luckily unoccupied, lavatory and sicked up his lunch into the loo until only bile was left and then dry heaves. It took another 2 sets of dry heaves until his stomach felt calm enough to stop leaning over the bowl.

Sitting against the cold bathtub, next to the loo just in case, he closed his eyes to focus on his breathing. A cold glass was pressed into his hand causing him to open his eyes. Kneeling in front of him was Snape, also holding out a towel which Harry took and wiped his mouth before sipping from the glass of water.

Groaning, he went to stand up, but his legs were still shaking. Snape lightly grabbed a hold of Harry's arm to steady him and helped him to the sink. Harry rinsed out his mouth and brushed his teeth, noticing the new extra soft toothbrush. Turning around, Snape handed him a set of red pyjamas he didn't recognize.

"Sir?" Harry questioned taking them.

"I may have noticed that you don't have sufficient comfortable clothes for your treatments, so I picked some up while I was out yesterday." In reality, the professor knew Harry's relatives never bought him any clothes of his own and what he did have was oversized and worn. He needed something he could feel comfortable in for the upcoming weeks. "Plus you needed some that provide access to your port," he pointed to Harry's chest.

Harry stared at Snape amazed; this pretty much confirmed there was something going on with the man in front of him. He was about to ask him about it, but his stomach lurched and he found himself heaving into the loo again.

Once that round passed, he sat back on his feet, crouched on the bathroom floor, head hanging. Snape sat on the edge of the bathtub holding a wet towel on the back of Harry's neck.

"Let's get you dressed and in bed. I'm guessing you can use some rest."

Harry nodded his head the best he could.

"Do you need any help?"

The Boy-Who-Lived shook his head and whispered, "No, I'll be out in a minute."

Snape opened the door and Dudley was waiting outside of it, face pale looking at his cousin on the floor.

"I'll just... use a different loo," Dudley managed to say.

Snape narrowed his eyes and said to Dudley, "Good idea."

Harry closed the door behind Snape barely registering that Dudley had been outside. He fingered the soft material of the pyjamas. It was hard to believe that Severus Snape, the greasy dungeon bat, had gotten him pyjamas just because he wanted to be comfortable. How was Snape so familiar with all of this? Did he know someone with cancer? He mentioned he grew up in the muggle world. The set of questions to ask him was growing by the minute.

To change into the pyjamas, Harry would have to finally see the port. Taking off his jeans, he pulled on the soft flannel bottoms first, surprised at how well they fit for Snape picking them out without Harry being there. They felt warm on his chilled skin and he almost melted into them, feeling like he was home.

Closing his eyes, he turned to face away from the mirror over the sink. It took some maneuvering to get his arms through his shirt and over his head with the sharp pinching of the port on his right chest. Looking down, he felt around the soft cotton covering the incision site. Pulling up the dressing around the gauze, he then turned around to looking at himself in the mirror before putting his pyjama shirt on. There it was; a small circle just barely pushing against his skin as if it were trying to escape. He wiped his cheek feeling the wet from tears he didn't know had fallen. Taking another deep breath, fighting back another round of nausea, he pulled on the button down pyjama top made of red flannel to match the bottoms.

~~~~SS~~~~

Standing outside the bathroom, waiting for Harry to change, Severus pretended not to hear the small sniffling coming from behind the door. He was thinking about ways he could help keep Harry's mind off of what was happening. In addition to several sets of pyjamas, while he was out yesterday he'd also picked up a couple books, muggle playing cards, a chess set, and some new sheets and blankets. During Harry's worst moments in the other reality, his favorite blanket made a difference to his spirit, so he took a risk that this Harry would appreciate the same thing.

When the door finally opened, Harry was wearing the new pyjamas and his eyes simmered giving away the tears that used to be there. He slowly walked out and towards his bedroom, clothes in hand.

"Where's Lupin?" Severus asked now realizing that the werewolf didn't follow upstairs.

"My uncle told him to leave," Harry mumbled. "Probably for the best, I'm not feeling very well."

Severus gave a non-committal humph; not really wanting Lupin around right now but not liking that they're stuck with the uncle. How was Harry supposed to stay positive when he was surrounded by hatred, both real and perceived.

Harry entered his room and stopped in his tracks, dropping his clothes in the process, Severus coming up behind him.

"Everything ok Mr. Potter?"

"My room sir?" Harry's eyes were wide with confusion.

Taking both of Harry's shoulders, he led the Gryffindor into his bedroom. While Harry and Lupin had been downstairs, Severus rearranged and set up his room to be more comfortable for his upcoming chemotherapy. Not only was the room completely cleaned and sanitized, the bed was moved to have a better view out the window, the worn threadbare sheets on the bed had been replaced with a new, soft, light blue set with a green comfortable bedspread not unlike his old room Severus was used to.

The rickety desk had been repaired and enlarged; on it was a stack of novels, a couple school textbooks, and various activities like the chess set and playing cards, along the top of the desk was the picture of his parents and his photo album, both of which Severus found in Harry's trunk. The desk chair was replaced with a plush, comfortable armchair where Harry would be able to sit when he needed somewhere else to have chemo. Draped across the back of the armchair was a midnight blue robe and a pair of matching slippers at the foot of bed.

Harry looked back at Severus as if it were the first time he had seen the black-haired professor.

"I was going to swap rooms with you since the guest room is quite a bit larger," Severus started, "but it is also both closer to your aunt and uncle's room, and further from the lavatory, so I did what I could here."

Harry was speechless, which is not something that happened often between this particular professor and student.

"Thank you sir," Harry finally said sitting down on the now very comfortable bed.

Severus waved off the gratitude. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, sore, but I feel like that's becoming normal now," Harry leaned against the back of his bed.

"It's to be expected," he sat down on the armchair next to the bed. "Your body is doing a lot of fighting physically, mentally, and magically. Let it rest when you can."

He picked up a journal off the desk, the same potions journal he had at the hospital that morning, waiting for Harry to hopefully fall asleep.

Instead he heard, "Sir?"

"Yes Mr. Potter?" He lifted his eyes; Harry was still propped up against his pillows, staring at the ceiling.

"You seem to know a lot about what's going on, you know... the cancer stuff," Harry was clearly nervous and slowly turned over to face Severus wincing from pain in the process. "How do you know so much?"

The Potion Master took a few seconds to think about how to answer, "For one, I read through all the material Alton sent over."

"So you mentioned at least half a dozen times already," Harry replied sarcastically.

Completely ignoring that comment, Severus continued, "Second, I previously mentioned that as part of my Potions Mastery, I had to study medi-wizardry and the fundamentals are very similar to muggle medicine. Potions Masters are essentially pharmacists for the wizarding world, so I can understand the processes that are explained."

"Oh," to Severus, Harry sounded let down by his answer.

Taking a guess at what the young boy was trying to ask he said, "I can walk you through any of it, if you have questions."

"It's not that... I mean, I definitely could use the help understanding it all. The pamphlets didn't make much sense," Harry looked away from Severus as he contemplated something in his mind. "It just seemed like... I thought maybe you knew someone who had cancer before. Maybe when you were growing up or something."

Severus let out a shaky breath. He was definitely not expecting that and wasn't sure how to respond. He reached over to the desk, picked up the cup of water and handed it to Harry. "You need to try and stay hydrated," he recognized it was a weak diversion, at best.

Harry took the cup and, sitting back against his bed, took a small sip. The silence between them was deafening.

"You're right," Severus finally spoke; so quietly he wasn't sure Harry could hear him until he saw a spark in those emerald green eyes, "I knew a young boy with cancer. It feels like it was a whole other world ago."

"Were you close to him?" There was genuine curiosity in Harry's voice to know.

"Very much so. He was like family to me," he admitted, voice thick with grief.

Severus could see the question sitting on the tip of Harry's tongue, anticipating it before the boy even spoke, "What happened to him?"

There it was.

"That's a story for another day perhaps," it was as neutral of an answer as he could give, but Harry knew. Of course he did, had it been a positive outcome, that would have been the answer instead.

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest. Snape saw the pleading and fear in the boy in front of him, but knew the topic was closed; that Harry wouldn't continue to ask. In a different time and place this child was his; here he was so different yet so much the same as the Harry he once knew.

He noticed Harry's body stiffen, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Severus got up and moved out of the way as Harry lept out of bed and towards the loo. He found himself standing outside the lavatory door once again, trying to give as much privacy as possible to the occupant inside.

Finally hearing the retching subside, he carefully opened the door. Harry was brushing his teeth again when their eyes met in the mirror.

"I'll let Alton know the antiemetic is not working, I'm sure he can bring something stronger with him tomorrow."

Harry nodded slightly, spitting out the last remnants of toothpaste then rinsing his mouth. He walked by Severus and back into bed without a word spoken. He rolled onto his side and fell asleep into what would be anything but a restful sleep.