~~~~SS~~~~

Wednesday, 7th August 1997

The week after Harry's birthday saw a calmness in the young wizard Severus had never seen in this Harry before - even after going through his counterpart's memories of the teen. It helped that the week was also settled in between chemotherapy treatments - far enough after July's to be recovered and still far enough from August not to be anxious about it - and his tablet medication had been cooperating with him. One of the most frustrating, and least talked about, parts of being a caregiver to a child undergoing chemotherapy had to be how randomly things appeared to happen; how Harry could go from feeling perfectly healthy to miserable overnight without a single change to anything he was taking or doing. Each morning Severus woke up questioning what kind of day it would be, waiting for the other shoe to drop and their serenity to come to an abrupt end. The morning of the 7th it happened to be the bad one. In fact, if the professor hadn't absolutely had to meet with Albus that afternoon regarding Harry, he would have cancelled the entire visit to stay home with the ill teen.

Severus knew something was wrong the moment he opened his bedroom door. Without knowing exactly why, his intuition told him he needed to check on Harry; something felt amiss with the situation. When he passed the closed lavatory door, not a single sound could be heard on the other side, leading the former spy to believe the Gryffindor had to still be in bed, and with any luck catching up on the sleep they both knew - but hardly discussed - he wasn't getting on a regular basis. Continuing on, Harry's door was ajar, though not enough to see into from the corridor, so Severus approached it carefully unsure of what he would be walking into. With his wand brandished, just in case, he pushed the door open disappointed and instantly went on alarm to find the room completely empty. In hindsight, the professor realized he expected to find the room torn apart like last month, and was relieved to find it in its normal, somewhat messy state.

The former spy turned on his heels heading out of the room in search of the teen, deciding to make his way down to the sitting room where he knew Harry liked to go during the height of his insomnia. His foot had barely touched the top step when the creeek - louder and far higher up on the stairs that usual - caused him to pause. The staircase was an enigma in itself, but this time something inside Severus told him it was significant, and so he racked his brain, coming up with only one - not so logical - explanation. He approached the lavatory with more caution than he had with the young wizard's room, placing his ear against the wooden door, there still wasn't a single sound to be heard through it. With his heart nearly pounding from chest as his anxiety of what could be happening on the other side of the door, he reached down, grasped the knob, and attempted to open it. 'Attempted' being the important word because he couldn't get it opened regardless of how much force he used against the thin wooden frame.

"Harry!" The professor called out, failing to keep the panic from his voice. "If you can hear me, I need you to open the door!"

Frustrated, yet not at all surprised, by the lack of response on the other side, Severus withdrew his wand one more time and proceeded to yell every unlocking spell he knew. When those didn't yield the results he wanted, the former Death Eater changed tactics and was only a half a second away from blasting the damn door down before remembering how small the other room was. Without knowing Harry's exact location on the other side, he could end up doing more harm than good and therefore decided on a safer - albeit slower - diffindo to cut the door from its hinges. Thankfully, Harry's accidental magic hadn't completely kept him out, but he would definitely need to expedite finding out what was going on with it before any lasting damage could be done to the teen. Last year, during his worst bouts of magic early on in his treatment, it usually reacted to something the young wizard needed, so this new form concerned him greatly.

Stepping into the tiny room, the surge of static energy that met Severus quickly dissipated once he approached Harry at the loo; still dressed in his red pyjamas from the previous night, his shirt clinging to his chest from sweat. The professor's own heart ached at the obvious exhaustion on the young wizard's face, and he silently questioned to himself why Harry hadn't used his sphere if he needed help. It was there for times like this, and there were plenty of things, medications mostly, Severus could have done to help make the night more comfortable for him. Carefully - ignoring the protesting of his joints - the older wizard lowered himself to the floor, his knees drawn up towards his chest in the only position allowing him to fit in the space between the wall and the sink.

Acting on his well honed instincts after a year of this, he rubbed small circles on Harry's lower back, applying just enough pressure to help calm the Gryffindor's cramping stomach. "Rough night?"

Nodding, Harry leaned back, resting the weight of his body on the professor's right side and said, "I hate this."

"Yes," Severus responded neutrally and in the exact manner Dr Swanson instructed him to when it seemed Harry might want to give up, "I know you do."

They sat in that position on the cold tiled floor of the lavatory for what seemed like over an hour, yet couldn't logically have been more than twenty minutes, when Harry painfully asked, "Why didn't you come last night? When I squeezed the sphere?"

The betrayal in the young voice almost shattered him instantly. While he couldn't be certain about what exactly had happened the previous night to Harry, he was sure his sphere never illuminated.

"I'm sorry," Severus apologized, "mine never reacted. I'll take a look and recharm them this afternoon... see if that helps."

Knowing Harry had tried to contact him - probably more than once - last night and eventually gave up, caused his heart to break further and his mind to start going into overdrive analyzing the situation. Turning his primary focus back to the child shivering on the floor beside him, Severus summoned Harry's yellow blanket - carefully draping it over his body - along with a glass, the bottle of ginger ale from the kitchen, and both his antiemetic and pain medications; one of which was bound to work.

"T-thank you," Harry shivered, taking the medication, then laying down on his side with his head resting awkwardly in Severus's lap.

If anyone were to walk in on the scene, the former Death Eater was sure they looked ridiculous, two grown wizards sitting - or laying, in Harry's case - squeezed onto the lavatory floor like a box filled wall to wall with Beetle Eyes. He found he cared very little about what things looked like to the outside world. No one could ever imagine how difficult things really were for them behind their closed doors, and he would never wish this on anyone. Sitting there on the floor, the professor knew exactly what he had to do: at his meeting with Albus this afternoon, he would finally discuss returning to Hogwarts for at least one more year.

"No."

Severus promptly tossed the book which had been placed in front of him back across the messy desk to the white haired wizard he'd been meeting with for the last hour and half. At first glance, for Severus the decision was simple; he wasn't about to subject Harry to whatever Dark Magic the headmaster had managed to scrape up. The child was already deep within what could only be described as the muggle version of the Dark Arts, and adding the wizarding kind on top of it couldn't do him any good. Except, deep down Severus knew the decision wasn't so black and white. Harry's magic would continue to fight against the chemotherapy side effects, granted it would be at a slower rate with the easier - he shook his head because he would never describe this morning as easy - medications compared to last year, meaning they he would not only continue to see this dangerous magic, but it would eventually cause the burning throughout the Gryffindor's body again; something he knew Harry hadn't considered yet.

The defense professor rigidly sat up in the wingback chair, covered in a thick red and gold fabric he almost transfigured out of spite before he sat down. He'd come back to the castle for the previously scheduled meeting, after asking Minerva to stay with Harry; who coincidentally had a matter of her own to discuss with him upon his arrival back.

Uncharacteristically, the defense professor arrived late and after explaining his theory about Harry's raw accidental magic preventing the young wizard from getting help in the early morning hours, the headmaster started in on his idea to help alleviate the issue. Never had Severus expected his mentor - and the leader in the side of the light - to suggest something akin to the blood ritual Draco had to endure for two horrifying months. True, the Ritual for Magical Suppression - to essentially replace the previous block on Harry's core with something less permanent than a soul fragment - was not nearly as nauseating as draining a teenagers blood and transfusing it into a recipient, but this ritual would surely be complicated, painful, and full of steps that individually could land them in Azkaban, and together might even qualify for a Dementor's Kiss.

"I don't think you have much of a choice, Severus," Albus not so nicely pointed out, "this is no longer simply an issue in protecting his magic for later use. If what you're telling me is true, this raw magic has the ability to become violent. I imagine you do not wish to cause him harm, nor risk having him harm others?"

The question was rhetorical, or at least it should have been, however the uncomfortable silence told him Albus expected a response. Still, Severus refused to acknowledge the ridiculousness with an answer. Anyone would know he wouldn't want any harm to come to Harry, or anyone else regardless of what his students used to say, and therefore required nothing more. Unfortunately, he should have anticipated Albus's own interpretation of his protested silence as agreement.

"I'm going to assume," the headmaster began, his blue eyes twinkling ferociously behind his half-moon spectacles, "your reaction, or lack thereof, means I can expect you back in the classroom the 2nd of September?"

Not one to be backed into a corner, Severus aggressively pulled the damn book back to read through what was required to put this "block" in place.

"Assuming I endorse this ridiculous plan," he bellowed, flipping a page, "why must he stay in the castle? I assumed your idea would be more active, however this seems quite the opposite, we simply follow this painstakingly long process and he won't be able to do magic any longer."

"While that may be correct, on paper," Albus stood and began to pace with his hands clasped behind his back, "we both have enough experience to know things are hardly so black and white."

Severus narrowed his onyx eyes trying not to interpret the statement in regards to his blatant animosity over the Malfoy Manor battle and the headmaster's lack of presence. What he was suggesting would require more trust then Severus had for the man at that time.

"Where were you that night?" Severus hadn't planned to ask the question, let alone so pointedly, yet there it was now sitting between them. The dragon in the room had been spotlighted and now it couldn't just be swept under the rug.

Albus stopped his pacing, mid-step, and turned more nimbly than a man of his age should. "I'm sorry you feel I let you down, Severus," he casually announced.

The lack of answer did not go unnoticed by either wizard and this time the former Death Eater wasn't about to let it go, "I didn't ask you for an apology. I asked where you were that night, and while I cannot guarantee your answer will get me back into that classroom, I can promise you that I won't be stepping foot in this castle again if you fail to provide one."

The threat was far from empty. If he so wanted, the professor could apparate from the Hogwarts gates to another set just as regal out in Wiltshire and have another job in the Malfoy Lab for Disease Research and Development working to create a new potions regimens to treat cancer in the Wizarding Community; an endeavor he wanted to do in his old reality. What the threat didn't have this time around was any weight behind it. Severus knew good and well, Albus could find another - probably more qualified and far more likable - professor to replace him in less than a week. The tides had drastically turned and as the two wizards metaphorically stood off against one another, he was intimately aware of the fact he no longer had the upper hand as the lead spy against Voldemort for the Order of the Phoenix.

"I was attending to another matter," the headmaster eventually answered in a quiet, calming voice.

"Do pray tell," the dark-haired wizard challenged through his clenched teeth, feeling his anger and resentment rising to the surface, completely unable to push it back behind his Occlumency any longer, "what could be more important than rescuing your precious pawns?!"

"I must apologize again, my boy-" he lifted his wrinkled hand to prevent Severus from arguing against wanting the apology. "After we discovered Harry as an accidental horcrux last fall, you were more than a little preoccupied with both Harry and Draco, and I hadn't been nearly as forthcoming with my own comings and goings as I probably should have been."

To Severus, that wasn't nearly as shocking of a revelation as the headmaster had likely expected it to be. Though he hated to admit it, the other wizard was right. While Severus recognized last year Albus had looked just as tired as he did and internally questioned what had happened to cause the reaction, he had never actually sought the answer; something had always come up with either Harry or Draco. Now, he could sense his desperation increasing, dying to know what else Albus hadn't shared with him.

In the long silence, Albus resumed his pacing as he spoke, "I've spent decades hunting Tom down and doing everything in my control to stop or prevent his rise to power. For years it's consumed so much of my time and energy, and while it's had its merits, like knowing he was not truly gone the first time Harry survived the Killing Curse, occasionally my search has led me down a winding, seemingly wayward path.

"This was one such time, Severus. You see, after we figured out a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul escaped death after the rebounded curse, finding itself within Harry, I was brought back to two other mysterious deaths which had occurred in Tom's history: the Riddle Family and a Hepzibah Smith. I feared he could have made at least two other horcruxes, with or without his knowledge. Last year I did everything I could to find, and subsequently destroy if necessary, any potential links he could have used to return."

It took the younger professor a solid minute to work through and comprehend the information he'd been told. There was a lot to unravel and the implications of having one unknown horcrux were so significant, his breathing became shaky at just the idea of it. Still confused with the connection to their previous conversation, he carefully asked, "What does this have to do with your untimely absence at the Battle of Malfoy Manor?"

"Ah, yes," Albus once again stopped his pacing and promptly sat back down in his chair, his hands folded before him on the desk like they were having any normal chat about his upcoming curriculum, instead of trying to rebuild the last delicate thread holding together their trust. "Remember, Severus, the end goal of that mission was for rescue, not arrest or kill. Therefore, never did I anticipate what should have been a quick in and out process to turn into a battle that would forever end up in our history books."

Severus rolled his eyes at the dramatics, but he expected no less from the man. "And what about when you received Lupin's patronus? You clearly knew at that juncture the situation inside of the Manor had drastically changed. Where were you?"

"Obviously, once you and Harry were taken, my attention was diverted from my previous quest for these potential horcruxes and onto a way to rescue you both," Albus's eyes squinted, almost in pain, and without the twinkle there any longer, their blue color was dull and somber. Somehow, Severus could tell he was not going to like this explanation. "When I received the news from Remus about the duels breaking out, and decided to move from a clandestine rescue to a full-on attack, I decided my time was best spent making sure the last potential horcrux had been secured. And therefore, I left the Farm for a small shop in Denmark where I had previously tracked down an ancient locket - which had gone missing the same day as the death of its last known owner, Hepzibah Smith - in the event Lord Voldemort saw his demise that night."

This time, his anger - fueled by not only his current resentment for the man in front of him, but also his grief from replaying Harry's death in his head - could not be contained. He stood so rapidly, the plush chair fell back behind him with a soft and unsatisfying crash, and leaned over menacingly at the man who he used to think upon like a father.

"And what about Harry?!" He spat at the headmaster, who to his credit did not flinch at either the aggressive movement nor the threatening tone to his voice. "You knew he had a piece of Voldemort's soul within him. If you assumed, enough to abandon your people for your little treasure hunt I might add, Voldemort might be killed that night, what did you think would happen to Harry?!"

"You already know the answer to that question, Severus," Albus challenged without hesitation. "The likelihood of either of you walking out of that Manor alive was getting smaller by the second. The Order had their commands, rescue first, arrest second… and a subset were given a specific command to go after Tom if given the opportunity."

The breath within his lungs was sucked right out by the confession.

"Whom?" He demanded, already knowing he'd never get the names. Had things gone differently, that specific team would have been hailed the heroes of the night and their faces would be plastered across the Daily Prophet. Instead, they'd barely scraped by with their victory and now Severus was the one avoiding the media as often as he could. With a repulsed look on his face, Severus shook his head and said, "You disgust me. Is that all he is to you? A means to an end?!"

The deafening silence throughout the office was broken up only by the sound of Severus's deep breaths, as he allowed his anger to seep through him. It felt too good to try to stop it, to be able to let loose and feel the tingling of his previously stored away emotions reach all the way to his toes that were now curling up in his black boots, and out to each fingertip. His hands clenched into fists in rhythm with his jaw, debating if he could actually hit the elderly wizard sitting so stoically in front of him. Instead, he settled on slamming his fist onto the desk, causing all the belongings on its top to rattle.

If nothing else, this visit gave him a lot to think about. What he thought, or hoped, would give him the answers to help them control Harry's magic before it overtook the young wizard, turned into a lesson on yet another dark magic ritual and discovering the reason the leader of their group abandoned them; having assumed Harry would be killed. As much as he wanted to yell and curse - both magically and verbally - the older wizard, Severus knew he needed to put Harry's needs in front of his own feelings and do what was best for the Gryffindor. Did that mean he had to go along with the ridiculous plan without a smidge of his own research? Absolutely not. He would take the awful book home and find as much information on it as possible.

Shaking his head in disappointment over Albus's revelation and his own confusing situation, he turned to storm from the office, missing the effects of his teaching robes billowing behind him. His hand was centimeters from the knob, half expecting it to be locked, when he heard Albus's strained voice.

"It wasn't real, Severus," the headmaster called out. The former spy's hand stopped on the knob, but he didn't dare turn around; not willing to give the headmaster the satisfaction. "Do try to understand, though had it been, and I not acted as I did that night, we would be in no different of a position than we were in November of 1981, facing the potential for a resurrected Lord Voldemort, this time without the Leukemia in his body to fall back upon. Sometimes difficult decisions need to be made and this, unfortunately, was one of those."

"That doesn't make it right," Severus chided and stormed from the office, realizing he had wanted to ask about the potential Death Eater threat, but too desperate to get back to Harry to care.

~~~~HP~~~~

Dear Harry,

First and foremost, I'm sorry about what happened at the end of your birthday party last week. I shouldn't have taken my frustrations out on you (or Ron) and it was especially not fair to you on such a day. Things haven't exactly been easy for any of us as we try to navigate this "new normal" and I feel like we're all failing at it in some way or another. What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry for acting how I did and I really do believe you and Draco need to talk this out. You'd be surprised how confused he is about all of this too, and (like you) he's struggling with where to go now.

Anyway, you left so suddenly last week, I completely forgot to give you the book I found about accidental magic. I get the feeling this isn't exactly what you're looking for, but until we have a chance to talk about what's going on, it's the best I could find. The most relevant part (I think) is where it says accidental magic manifests as a young witch or wizard gains access to their magical core. It made it sound as if the magical core expands, so to say, as we get older. That would explain why we learn certain spells at specific times (or why some can master spells earlier than others), but it makes sense if you've been given a large section of magic you didn't have access to before. More or less, your body doesn't know how to react to it and it sounds like it could be dangerous if not handled properly. Unfortunately, nowhere in the book (at least not that I was able to find) talked about what to do if someone suddenly had access to their entire core, but it does talk about how accidental magic stops once it gets trained… which you can't do right now. Have you asked Professor Snape? I bet he knows what to do. He probably already has a plan and you're wasting all this energy over nothing.

I shouldn't ask this, but I'm going to anyway (so don't hate me)... Will you be at Hogwarts next year? Ron and I got our letters for next year the other day and nothing stood out saying we had a new professor for Defense (though I'm not sure it would), so I thought there's probably a good chance Professor Snape was coming back. And if he comes back, then you would too, right? I mean, he can't just leave you. Mr and Mrs Weasley would be happy if you stayed here, but after seeing you last week, I have a feeling you want to stay with Professor Snape.

Anyway, I hope we get to see you before school starts… just in case. I'm going to stay with Draco in Reims starting on the 18th before the wedding (he wants me to meet his parents!) but maybe sometime after the wedding we can all get together somewhere.

Take care, Harry, and keep your head up. Things will be better this year regardless of where you end up in the end.

Love you,

Hermione

Harry woke up from the much needed sleep sometime between lunch and dinner time to the sound of rain crashing across the roof in sheets and the feeling of not being alone. When he finally had the energy to crack open his eyes, the young wizard was confused by the sight of the dark, gloomy sky out of his bedroom window, since he was sure he'd fallen asleep on the lavatory floor again. Laying on his side facing the window, the first thing he noticed was his stomach no longer clenching, signaling the seemingly random effect of his medication had finally passed; for which he was grateful. Just in case, the Gryffindor carefully turned over in hopes of finding his glasses and figuring out who was sitting in his room giving him the feeling of being watched. Luckily, he didn't need to wait too long for an answer on either of those.

"Careful, now," the fragile voice of his former guardian, Professor McGonagall, said while simultaneously handing him his glasses and helping him sit up, his body protesting each small movement. "How are you feeling?"

"M'ok," Harry mumbled, his voice scratchy from the vomiting and sleep. He reached over for the glass of water he always kept by his bed, happy for the relief of the cold water on his sore throat, and then asked, "Where's Severus?"

McGonagall's brown eyes shifted to the window, watching the stormy weather outside pelting angrily against the window, "I'm afraid he had an errand to run and he didn't want to wake you. I expect he'll be back very soon."

Harry drew his legs up to his chest and followed the professor's gaze out the window. Days like these - gloomy, cold, and wet - were the easiest days to be stuck sick inside. The sky was a dark, ugly shade of grey, looking far more menacing than anything he'd seen at Privet Drive, probably because the area was already so dark and run down, and every so often it lit up with blue lightning which he actually enjoyed watching. There was something calming about when the outside matched his own internal animosity that made things not look so grim.

"I can imagine there were plenty of other things you had planned to do today besides sit and watch me sleep?"

"I think you and Severus need to start learning when it's ok to ask for help," she replied back to his bitter statement. "It's really amazing how much alike you both are and yet no one really realized it until now."

Harry turned back to face his former professor, and gave her a small smirk. Never in his wildest dreams did he think anyone would even compare him to Severus Snape, and even stranger than just that, he was actually proud of the comparison. "He tells me I don't have any sense of self-preservation, that I charge into situations without thinking."

"Oh, he's certainly correct about that," she admitted to him, "I had high hopes you would have taken after Lily more than James, but it was clear early on you have his sense of adventure. And if you ever have a son, I think that may be the day I finally retire… I'm not sure I'll survive another generation of Potters."

That time, Harry did give a full laugh, "What about Weasleys then? Just imagine what Fred and George's kids'll be like."

"Pure demons," she answered with a stone serious face, and Harry almost couldn't contain his laughter.

"That all seems so far away," the young wizard explained with a small shake of his head, before turning more serious, "but my parents were what… twenty when they had me? I couldn't imagine being a parent in three years, and in the middle of a war even. And now it's everyone's last year at school, then we'll all go our separate ways. Or at least they will… I'll still be here."

Another bitter statement, but he couldn't not talk about his fears once he started. Ever since he received the watch for his birthday from Snape, he found himself removing it just to see the inscription inside and letting the feeling of acceptance fill him with a serenity he had never had in his life. It didn't push away all of his negativity, but it helped him get from one day to the next and gave him the confidence during these dark moments to keep his strength and continue forward.

"You won't be here forever, Harry," she reassured her lion. "No matter what it may seem like today."

"I won't be in classes next year," he challenged.

"No, you won't," she agreed as if it weren't as big of a deal as Harry knew it was, and glanced down at her wringing hands. "However, I believe Severus is speaking with Albus about finding alternate arrangements for you next year. We all want you to succeed wherever it is you end up and we'll all do what we can, even if it means private tutelage during the year outside of classes."

"But I can't-"

"Do magic," she interrupted him with a stern expression, "yes, I am well aware of that fact and we will figure it out."

Harry nodded almost aimlessly, not exactly believing what she was saying, but also knowing trying to argue it would be futile. He was getting used to having a set of parents - no matter how unconventional they were - who looked out for his best interest in a way that wasn't as sympathetic as Mrs Weasley always treated him. They pushed him when he needed it, even if he wasn't aware of it and called him out when he was being challenging; not letting him get away with falling into the abyss he sometimes found himself metaphorically standing in front of. Going a step further into his thoughts, the young wizard naturally assumed after turning seventeen - and without being a part of Gryffindor house - McGonagall wouldn't have any interest in his well being. It was ridiculous, he knew, but how was he supposed to know she'd continue to stay involved and wouldn't simply choose to walk away? No one had ever been on his side before… and that brought his mind to another topic he thought he may be able to work for his benefit.

"Are you going to Bill and Fleur's wedding?" Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed to appear less ill in hopes the professor wouldn't immediately say he couldn't.

"Of course I am," the elderly witch nodded her head, and Harry knew by her sly smile she knew his purpose for asking.

Harry silently watched McGonagall across from him, and when the silence became too much for him, he prompted her with, "You don't think you can talk Severus into-"

"What do you expect her to talk me into?" Snape's deep voice interjected from the doorway. To Harry, he looked more exhausted than when he'd last seen the man in the lavatory earlier that morning and it had nothing to do with his wetted down hair plastered to the side of his face, having just come in from the storm outside.

"Oh, Erm…" Harry stammered, looking over to McGonagall who simply shook her head, giving him no help. "I want to go to Bill and Fleur's wedding at the end of the month."

He knew he'd said it far too quickly to sound anywhere near as confident or in control as he'd hoped to sound when making the request, however it was now on the proverbial table for them to discuss.

"Minerva," the dark-haired professor said, walking into the room, "will you please give us a moment?"

"Of course, Severus," the Gryffindor witch replied. "If it's alright, I'll meet you downstairs. I'd like to hear how today went."

Snape nodded his head and took the seat McGonagall had vacated before heading out of the room. He knew she had made it downstairs when he heard the creak from her walking down the staircase. Harry almost grinned at Snape's cringe from the sound he was trying so hard to rid their home of.

"I swear it moves," Harry started with, hoping the neutral topic would ease the tension that had settled into the room.

"Yes, I've noticed," the professor pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated, and then ran his wand over his body to instantly dry himself. "You know my feelings about the wedding, Harry."

This couldn't be any further from the way he wanted to breach the sensitive topic, however time was running out with the wedding only a little over a fortnight away.

"I've been really careful lately," the Gryffindor pleaded. "Plus, it's a full week after chemotherapy, and I'll even wear the mask again if you want me to. I need to be there, Severus."

It was his last ditch effort to sway the man to see his side. Before his birthday - and the watch - he would have probably mentioned that he didn't necessarily need his permission anymore. But that simple gift, and with it the gesture of being his son, had changed his feelings about using that excuse; no matter how realistic it was. Prepared to hear a flat out no, along with a myriad of reasons why, Harry frowned and turned back towards the windows, unwilling to let the professor see how disappointed he was with the answer.

Therefore the young wizard couldn't hide his surprise, even if he tried, when he heard Snape's conflicted voice say, "Give me a day to think it through. If I change my mind and decide we will attend, then we can discuss the logistics to keep you safe."

Satisfied with the answer, Harry nodded his head with a whispered, "Thank you."

~~~~SS~~~~

As if the abysmal meeting with Albus - after starting the day with Harry in the lavatory - hadn't been hard enough, he did not anticipate walking into the conversation between Minerva and Harry. The only consolation was that he had interrupted his colleague's response, so at least Harry didn't think he could put the two professors against each other to try and get his way out of things. Suddenly, he started to reconsider if having a Harry Potter with a little more cunning to him was actually a good idea in the end.

"You're too hard on the child, Severus," he was assaulted by Minerva's lecture immediately upon opening the door leading from the sitting room to the kitchen. "Besides, you know as well as I do that he doesn't technically need your permission to go."

He was too tired to go through this with her, and yet the stern expression on her face told him he wasn't getting out of it and she definitely did not agree with him. With a wave of his wand, a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses came flying over to the table where he proceeded to pour them both a healthy glass each.

"I am aware he does not require my permission," he conceded after taking two sips of the warm wine. "And at the same time, I do appreciate his desire for it."

"Then why don't you let the boy go to the wedding?" The way she said it made it sound like the easiest decision in the world, like he could just turn around and say it was perfectly fine and safe to do.

"You know why-" he began, but stopped when the witch lifted her wrinkled, yet not weak, hand and pursed his lips closed.

"The real reason, Severus."

Unwilling to give in that easily, Severus clicked his teeth trying to find the right way to say what he needed to convey to her. In the end, he decided to go with his tried and true method: pure logic.

"By the day of the wedding," the wizard explained, "he'll only be a week past chemotherapy, plus he'll have just finished his five day course of chemotherapy tablets."

A simple glance across the table and into Minerva's eyes told him she wasn't buying into his reasoning.

"Don't you think you're being a bit overprotective? If I remember correctly, he used to go to classes far sooner after chemotherapy." She paused and Severus found himself grateful she hadn't mentioned the irony of the one time Harry had gotten sick the young wizard had literally been in quarantine. "You need to trust him to take care of himself."

"But that was before he almost died!"

He hadn't meant to yell out the declaration of his deep rooted anxiety, and afterwards he felt embarrassed for losing control on top of the grief that started trickling in from behind his Occlumency shields. Cradling his head in his hands - to protect his dignity as well as to help keep his composure - he waited for the heckling he was sure would be coming his way from across his table.

"That was a terrifying day, Severus," Minerva started instead, her own voice laced with grief similar to his own. "Do not forget I was there too, and to see Harry so distraught over your potential death… and then to… watch him do what he did. I may have only ended up as his guardian out of convenience, however I do still care for the boy."

"I know," Severus defended her position. "It's..."

"...Different," she finished for him after he trailed off trying to find the right word, "and I think if you look deep down you'll find your sudden interest in his immune system to be a reaction over your fear of him dying. I'm not saying you shouldn't worry about his health, Merlin knows you're the closest one to his care outside of his healers, but I challenge you to consider the why before using it as an excuse."

Under normal circumstances, Severus would have huffed off the pointed challenge. However, this situation was anything but normal and he respected Minerva far too much not to take what she'd said to heart. The two of them had been through thick and thin together in this reality and his old one and therefore he couldn't - with good conscience - dismiss her claim, no matter how much he wanted to.

"And what if you're correct?" He retorted back, focusing his attention on swirling his wine in its glass and watching the drips slowly make their way back down the sides, "are you suggesting I simply let him make every decision on this? We both know he thinks very little in regards to his own well-being. The child ran after Voldemort at only eleven!"

"You know I wouldn't condone recklessness," she replied with a small shake of her head, "but you both know what he can and can't handle and if you talk to him about it, and about your own fears, I think you'll find yourself pleasantly surprised how seriously he'll take the trust and responsibility given to him."

As he was about to argue that he didn't exactly agree, the irony wasn't lost on him that this version of Harry - the one he hadn't had a larger influence in raising - had actually chosen the safer treatment compared to the one who had been his official son. If anything, that alone should have shown him the Gryffindor had some kind of sense to put his own needs first, yet for far too many nights he had nightmares of the young wizard throwing himself in front of the green light.

"I will speak with him about it," Severus gave in, but it was as far as he was comfortable committing to at this juncture. "Have you found anything on raw magic, yet?"

Minerva did not disappoint as she pulled out five small cubes and then enlarged them into their normal sized text books.

"If you'll recall," the witch started while Severus flipped through the book on the top, "when we hypothesized the block within Harry's core, I had found one example of the block's removal?"

He nodded his head in confirmation, remembering that conversation almost a year ago, "Blood magic, if I remember correctly?"

"Unfortunately," her eyes held a worry in them and he knew for the second time that day he wasn't going to like where this was going. "I decided to start with that single removal case, as Accidental Magic was far too broad of a search to yield the information we wanted, and it's a good thing I did. Of course as we already know, Harry's block was different from this young witch's case, being that it was caused by a piece of Voldemort's soul and not a natural block, but I believe the theory behind it is all the same."

"What happened when they removed the block?"

Minerva took a sip of her wine in a move Severus knew was her way of delaying the bad news.

"Understand, Severus, this young lady was quite a bit older than Harry when the ritual had been performed," the other professor prefaced, "plus she gained access to her entire core at once after never having a bit of previous magical ability. I would expect Harry's innate ability to do magic help guide his new raw magic."

"Spit it out, Minerva," he grimaced.

"To put it frankly, it killed her," she bluntly told him. "Now that's not to say Harry has no options. Like I said, his case is far from her's, mostly because his core has already had a set of trained magic, however the sudden appearance of the large amount of raw magic consumed her. From what I was able to find, she had violent outbursts which eventually turned against her quicker than she could train it."

"What should have been done to prevent it?" He demanded.

"Honestly?" She rhetorically asked, "they should have left the block in place. There's a reason why it's never been discussed. But since we're already in the position we are, the best option for Harry is to start getting the raw magic retrained."

"But combined with his chemotherapy, that will leave him almost nothing after three years," Severus pointed out the fact they both already knew.

"He understood the risks when deciding on treatment, Severus, plus with the easier medications he should still have at least enough to live in the magical world, though maybe a bit more cautiously," the Gryffindor witch rationalized. She paused to give them time to come to terms with the information before stating, "Not to mention, it's the only option we have that doesn't end up with Harry being killed by the cancer or his own magic."

He couldn't tell her about what the headmaster had told him - about replacing the block - not until he could come to terms with that option himself and thoroughly research it. Somehow the complicated day had only managed to get worse and allowing Harry to go to the eldest Weasley son's wedding was far from their biggest hurdle.