Smoke and Mirrors by JewelBurns
Summary: Sequel to The Choices We Made.

With Voldemort dead and Harry's cancer settling life should be returning to normal for Harry and Snape but things aren't always as they seem. Instead they find themselves challenged in new ways. When dangerous events start after Harry's return to Hogwarts can Snape figure out what's going on before they're torn apart again? HPSS mentor Healing/Coping
Categories: Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Dudley, Hermione, Original Character
Snape Flavour: Snape Comforts, Snape is Depressed, Snape is Desperate, Snape is Kind, Snape is Loving, Out of Character Snape, Overly-protective Snape, Snape is Secretive
Genres: Angst, Drama, Family, General, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery
Media Type: None
Tags: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Azkaban Character, Hospitalization, Injured!Harry
Takes Place: 7th summer, 7th Year
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Character Death, Out of Character, Romance/Het
Challenges: None
Series: Choices We Made Universe
Chapters: 84 Completed: No Word count: 697412 Read: 514915 Published: 15 Nov 2020 Updated: 30 Sep 2023
Diagon Alley by JewelBurns

~~~~HP~~~~

Friday 15th, August 1997

The day before Harry's chemotherapy treatments were usually the most tainted by his own negativity over what he knew to expect from them; an anxiety typically starting to build around the midway point between his treatments and by the end of his second cycle - six months in - he'd come to recognize. For this reason, when he woke up the morning of the 15th he seriously struggled with his own feelings about the day ahead of him. Although tomorrow meant chemotherapy, today he and Snape were going to Diagon Alley to get a new set of dress robes because the professor finally agreed to allow him to go to Bill and Fleur's wedding the following Saturday. The news of being allowed to attend the wedding didn't come nearly as quickly as he'd hoped after asking McGonagall to ask his mentor on his behalf, nevertheless the result was the same and for that he was grateful.

Snape told him the news only four days ago and with it came a full range of conditions Harry had barely listened to before agreeing to them. What he did know about these conditions was as of the morning of the wedding - Harry had hoped the professor would agree to go earlier, but he'd be happy with whatever he could get - if for any reason Snape didn't feel the young wizard was well enough to attend, he could rescind his permission. It took Harry longer than he thought it should have to realize that "rescind" meant "take back", however he eventually got there. Harry was also expected to be honest about how he felt starting two days before the wedding and leading up to the day. If Snape thought for even a second he hadn't been completely truthful about it, the Gryffindor would be subjected to a diagnostic scan. The threat was symbolic, at best, because Harry already knew the magical tests couldn't give any insight into his blood count levels - otherwise he wouldn't have needed to go get the muggle tests when he was diagnosed - but the meaning was loud and clear: if he wasn't feeling well, he couldn't go.

Since the week between chemotherapy and the wedding would be spent more or less in self-quarantine - as his blood counts would plummet after tomorrow's treatment - it left the pair of wizards today to finally venture out into wizarding London. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't excited to be getting back into the magical world, even with his own animosity about his magic. On the one hand he'd been itching just to get back to a place surrounded by magic, to see the plates of food floating through the Leaky Cauldron, or the lanterns being lit with the help of a wand, but it also meant he would have a constant reminder of what he could potentially be losing; especially as he continued to notice more incidences with his accidental magic. If nothing else, he was willing to put aside his own worries to get to spend the day out and about instead of stuck in the house, only really leaving for his morning run he continued to do after Dudley left at the beginning of the month.

The only part of the day Harry really didn't look forward to was the attention being in the wizarding world was bound to draw to him. The first month after the Battle at Malfoy Manor had been spent in the safety of Hogwarts - away from any of the wizarding media - and once term ended, he came directly to Spinner's End where he had pretty much spent the entire time, outside of his trips to the chemotherapy clinic and the Burrow for his birthday. With McGonagall as his official guardian, he would have no connection to Snape's address, giving them both the privacy they wanted, however he heard there were several reporters camped out at McGonagall's Scottish cottage for the first fortnight after the end of term. As the true hero for killing Voldemort, Harry was surprised no one had found Snape's address some way to try and catch sight of the professor. In the end though, he realized they probably didn't have a death wish and stalking a former Death Eater - specifically one who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the Prophet - would not be the best idea. Despite their lack of media presence, however, it didn't stop the most frequently read Wizarding Paper from running story after story about the two of them and their roles in the battle to defeat Voldemort.

"So what's our plan today?" Harry burst into the kitchen with more energy than any previous day in the last month. He was dressed in a grey t-shirt, which he planned to throw a jumper over before heading out to London, and a pair of comfortable jeans, having no intentions on wearing robes for their trip into the Wizarding World.

Snape either wasn't ready yet, or agreed with the young wizard's sentiment, as he was also dressed in muggle clothing; although his were a bit dressier than Harry's selection. Just like every other morning, Snape sat at the table with a cup of black coffee, but unlike any other morning, today he was feverishly writing out something Harry couldn't see - not coincidentally - down on a piece of parchment with the rest of his placement covered in loose pieces and folders.

"Go to Diagon Alley for new dress robes," the professor flatly replied, not even lifting his head from whatever he'd been working on. "Unfortunately, I'm in need of a new set as well."

"Yeah, I got that part," Harry tried to peek over the former spy's shoulder to no avail as he walked past the man and to his own seat. "I meant about getting there. We've obviously stayed away from the wizarding world for a reason and I wasn't sure if you had any way for us to be… I dunno… stealthy about the trip."

Snape's confused - and halfway amused - face was almost worth sounding a bit daft in his statement. Harry could see the moment the professor caught onto what he'd asked, but instead of going into some well thought out plan to hide them, he narrowed his dark eyes from across the table and said, "You do realize being a spy for the Order had nothing to do with hiding my physical appearance? Occlumency was all I needed and I think we're both equally pleased you no longer have to concern yourself with that endeavor."

"I wasn't that bad," the Gryffindor mumbled, more than a little insulted.

"Nor did I say you were."

Harry beamed at the half-compliment. Occlumency - and by default Legilimency and his visions from Voldemort - had caused them so much anguish in the last year. This was the closest they had ever gotten to discussing the prophecy and their time at the Manor in recent days, but as much as Harry hoped they would continue to talk about it, Snape went back to drinking his coffee and continuing whatever list he'd started. A strained silence fell over the pair of wizards and Harry took the moment to start on his breakfast, most of his excitement now replaced by a nervous energy he hadn't felt since they'd essentially gone into hiding.

"What are you working on?" Harry finally gave into the silence and asked.

In response, Snape waved his wand over the contents of the table, vanishing all of the parchment besides a small piece in front of him which appeared to be another list of some sort. Again, Harry was filled with disappointment.

"Unfortunately," Snape began, lifting the young wizard's glum outlook just a little, "it appears I'm going to find myself in the classroom for at least another year."

The official decision, Harry thought, hoping he looked less panicked than he felt inside.

"So what does that mean exactly?" He tentatively inquired.

"It means nothing more than our collective-" he emphasized those two words, "-return to the castle before the 1st of September. Additionally, the headmaster, Minerva, and I are working through a way to control some of your accidental magic as well as keep you as up to date as possible with your studies."

"What good is that going to do?" He didn't mean it to sound as aggressive as it came out, but the question was a valid one nonetheless.

"The former will hopefully mean working on the latter will not be done in vain," Snape honestly told him. "You cannot exactly do nothing in the castle all day and at some point you will get back to your magical education. Try to be patient. This is a marathon, not a sprint."

Patience really wasn't one of Harry's strongest attributes. He tended to be more of a run in and take charge kind of person, which was what the first nine months of his treatments were like. As much as he hated them, the intensity and constant changes at least gave him the impression they were actively fighting it. Now, with each month and cycle so monotonous, they moved from the short game to the long game, and it was trying; even at the best of times. Adding the school environment - and his pseudo lessons - to that would only complicate things further.

"So then what am I going to do?" He asked, sending himself into an almost frenzy. "Potions, which I don't really need anymore, and Herbology? Those are really the only two classes where I don't need to do magic. Will I have to retake my O.W.L.s-"

"Calm down," the professor lifted his hand to prevent the young wizard from moving into a further panic, "you will not have to sit your O.W.L.s again. Once your magic is ready to retrain, the most you'll have to do is retake the practicals for the spell casting courses - Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense - which is why getting the theory done for your final year will make that process far more efficient."

"I thought the Board of Governors didn't want me to take just theory?" Harry challenged, remembering when he'd actually been kicked out of classes last year.

He could tell he was pushing his luck when Snape rubbed the space between his eyebrows, "We're considering private lessons, unsponsored by Hogwarts. Believe it or not, your professors still want to see you succeed. I've already filed the appropriate paperwork to allow you to live with me on the grounds. That power, as we all know from Trelawney in your fifth year, falls to headmaster and he had no issues granting the exception. As you won't technically be a student, you will not be permitted to stay in Gryffindor Tower, though you will be granted the same provisions as any other student including meals in the Great Hall should you decide to join your former classmates, and access to the school Library and other resources."

"Perfect," Harry muttered. If nothing else, at least he'd get to see his friends in their last year together, and with Voldemort gone, it was bound to be the least eventful one yet.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus had not planned on telling Harry about returning to Hogwarts that morning - not wanting to damper their day out - however when the Gryffindor asked about the work laid across the table, something had to be said. In truth, Severus had been up most of the nights this week researching the ritual Albus suggested they use, as well as pouring himself into the texts Minerva left for him. No matter how he looked at the situation, the Magical Suppression Ritual had to be their best option to keep Harry's raw magic from overtaking himself, with an overall end goal of retaining said magic until Harry completed his Maintenance Chemotherapy. Ultimately Harry would have the choice - start the retraining process now to calm the magic at the very likely expense of draining it during chemo - or the ritual, but he needed to be prepared for the likely outcome of him choosing to replace the block.

Nevertheless, the more research the professor did on the headmaster's suggestion, the less he liked it. Originally, the ritual had been written in the ancient Sumarian language from 3rd-2nd millennium Mesopotamia. During that era, the region was seeing linguistic reform from Sumarian to Akkadian, and the initial translation wrongfully assumed it was written in Akkadian. Due to the error in the translation, it was believed to have been used to "steal" magic from one wizard to another, thus giving it the classification of "Dark Magic'' and quickly making it illegal to perform. Of course, they learned early on the victim's magic wasn't necessarily getting transferred to the user - luckily, causing the ritual to fall out of use - but it wasn't until a half of a century later they discovered it blocked out the victim's magic. Although following the ritual's history proved difficult, at one point it appeared to be used as a punishment for when a crime was committed not necessarily requiring a stay in Azkaban, but the inconsistency made it difficult to manage.

Severus's first question regarding the ritual was answered very early on in his research: the process was extremely painful, akin to the burning out of a magical core as the magic would fight to retain its power. And since when attempting to steal another's magic, one rarely cared about ways to make the experience a pleasant one, it contained no information on how to lessen the pain. Naturally, the professor turned to his tried and true Potions knowledge in hopes of finding some way to make it manageable. His second question - which really wasn't a question as much as an early realization - came when reading about how quickly this ritual fell out of favor. Apparently, the way the users came to the conclusion the ritual did not work, outside of one's magic not increasing, was when the supposed newly made squib could once again do magic. Just like with the blood ritual, this one appeared to be temporary, though unlike the former, there wasn't a set timeframe on its efficacy, though it did appear to last far longer - weeks compared to days - than the Blood Ritual Draco had been used for. Now he understood why Albus wanted Harry to stay at the castle instead of simply placing the block and returning home; at some point this process would need to be repeated.

Their plans for Diagon Alley should have been simple: two sets of dress robes to wear for the wedding, as he had decided that morning he absolutely could not put on his only pair of dress robes which still reminded him of his son's funeral. As the summer was coming to a close faster than he was prepared for - especially now that he would be going back to teaching - the pain from the other Harry's death, his first son, was no less suffocating. If anything, having to navigate through this Harry's current struggles, as well as his own fallout from watching the young Gryffindor die a second time, only served as a reminder of what he'd lost. Today, he was determined to get back to some semblance of normalcy and that was exactly what he'd told himself when deciding to venture into Diagon Alley as two of the most widely discussed wizards in recent history. In hindsight, he should have at least casted a glamour on them both to avert at least some of the attention away from them and therefore he had no one to blame but himself for the potentially disastrous outcome.

Arriving into the wizarding marketplace wasn't nearly as chaotic as he'd expected. Mostly because the one part he'd actually planned - to arrive nestled between the breakfast and lunch hours, some of the slowest hours the Leaky Cauldron would see on a Friday - had been a good choice.

"Why couldn't we just owl order robes?" Harry warily asked as they caught the eye of the few patrons sitting at the bar of the rundown pub. "This is like my first year all over again, but at least now I know why they're staring."

"Pretend you don't notice them," Severus advised, following his own advice. Although it meant a higher potential for the Hogwarts crowd, the witches and wizards anxiously visiting for their school supplies, waiting until the end of the summer to do this had the benefit of Harry's hair having fully grown back, so at least the Gryffindor hopefully wouldn't feel self-conscious about his illness on top of everything else. It was one thing to be stared at for being the only person to survive the killing curse - twice at that - and another to be stared at for being sick. "And do you really think I could alter a set of dress robes if they came via owl? If so, you are overly confident in my tailoring abilities."

"You adjusted my jeans," Harry rationalized, looking down at his still baggy set of muggle jeans, "how different can it be?"

They made it to the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, getting by with a simple wave here or there, and Severus hoped if they were quick enough, they could get back out before the lunchtime shopping crowd arrived. Turning to Harry, he gave a smirk and suggested, "Do ask that question to Madam Malkin and let me know the dissertation you receive. Or, shall I save you the energy and tell you to trust me that it is very different."

"Fine," Harry conceded, "that's fair."

When the wall opened up, they were greeted by a moderately crowded Alley, mostly filled with school aged kids collecting their supplies for the upcoming year, as Severus had expected. Oddly, back in his old reality this would be a time he enjoyed getting to do with Harry - something so normal which almost every father and son did together - and he grieved over the idea that he would not get to do it this year. This year, there would be no celebration marking the end of Harry's magical education, there wouldn't even be a celebration over making it through another phase in his treatment. For the next three years, Harry would find himself more or less in a state of stasis as he waited to finish his Maintenance Phase. They were only halfway through the first year and he could easily foresee the young wizard getting frustrated with the apparent lack of progress. It would be something he'd need to keep a close watch on.

Walking down the alley to Madam Malkin's was definitely more stressful than arriving at The Leaky Cauldron. They were constantly stopped - Harry as some kind of good luck charm for being The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, and himself to be thanked for killing Voldemort - or pointed at by those either not brave enough to approach them, or wishing to provide them some kind of privacy while still acknowledging their accomplishments. With the constant responding to the other patrons in the alleyway, Harry almost missed their destination completely, only turning in when Severus pulled him by the arm into the quieter shop.

"Ouch!" Harry complained, rubbing where the professor had just pulled on his upper arm, "you could have said something, y'know?"

"My apologies," he said, concerned, "are you-"

"There they are!" A small, plump witch greeted the pair the moment they crossed the threshold into the robe shop. Severus instinctively stepped between the incoming woman and Harry. "I was wondering when I'd see you this summer! School robes or Weasley wedding?"

"Erm, the wedding," Harry replied, walking a bit more confidently into the shop after realizing they were the only two in the establishment besides Madam Malkin herself and a small, dirty white kitten wandering about the Ravenclaw robes. "I need a new set of dress robes."

"I most certainly can see that," the dressmaker beckoned them over and prompted Harry to stand in front of the mirror before she walked exaggeratingly around him. "And you, professor?"

"I'll need a new set as well," he answered, but sat down in the chair behind Harry's station instead of standing at his own. "Finish up with Harry first, though."

Swiftly, definitely faster than Harry expected, the young wizard was surrounded by sets of dress robes in all different colors. Each one reminded Severus of the other Harry - the navy set from his adoption and the Malfoys' Christmas Party, green from the Yule Ball, black transfigured to a muggle suit for Petunia Dursley's funeral - and he could tell this Harry was completely overwhelmed with the fitting process. While the young wizard had made up a lot of his lost weight from the first intensive part of his treatment, he still struggled with eating overall and his latest running hobby certainly did not help. The Gryffindor was barely eating the calories needed to sustain a boy of his age doing nothing at all, let alone adding in a morning run, no matter how short he made it. To balance the running, Severus had started him back on the higher calorie smoothies as a compromise to allow the activity until he could speak with Dr Swanson about it at the chemotherapy center tomorrow.

"I like the black and red one the best," Harry said once he'd tried on seemingly every single set in the shop, mostly to Madam Malkin's insistence and both of their chagrin, antsy to leave. "I think it fit the nicest too."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," the short witch answered, "I'll fix up any of these you like so it fits you perfectly."

Severus rolled his eyes, causing Harry to smirk on the mirror, "I still like the black and red the best."

She finished marking Harry's measurements - to adjust after Severus had his own set fitted - on the dress robes he picked and gestured for Severus to take the station next to the Gryffindor where three all black robes hung.

"Haven't seen you two out and about lately," Madam Malkin casually mentioned, conveniently - and he was sure intentionally - while he changed in the dressing room into the first set.

"We've wanted to keep a low profile this summer," the professor called out before giving Harry a chance to respond.

"But you are going to the wedding?" She continued, "it's the talk of the week right now… a Weasley getting not only a Beauxbatons witch, but a Triwizard Champion, and part Veela! Oh my, he's sure a lucky one!"

"What's wrong with Bill?" He heard Harry defend his best friend's brother. "Why shouldn't he be able to get a witch like Fleur?"

"Oh, it's nothing, dear," the seamstress backpedaled her previous statement, "just talk amongst the community, is all."

Severus came out from the dressing room to the sight of Harry looking like he was about to leap out at the plump woman. Beyond the Gryffindor, and directly in front of Severus, were the large picture windows allowing anyone from the Alley to peek into the shop, and there now stood at least ten people watching them.

"These will suffice," he quickly said in hopes of shifting the situation from where it was headed to something a bit more innocuous.

"Are you certain you wouldn't entertain anything besides black, professor?" Madam Malkin expressed.

"Yeah," Harry chimed in, "maybe a good set of Slytherin green for you?"

"I hardly think your opinion is necessary," he lectured towards Harry. "It's either these or we don't go next week."

"Black it is," Harry nodded and left to change back into the comfortable muggle attire he wore for shopping.

"Severus?"

The former spy - who hated being caught off guard - was taken by surprise by the familiar female voice, who sounded equally in shock to see him. He turned and standing not three meters away stood Nadine Walker. The Ravenclaw looked almost exactly as he'd last seen her, when they escaped from their shared prison cell at Malfoy Manor; her icy blue eyes no less haunted and dejected almost three months later, telling him she was not handling herself any better than the rest of them were. While her raven-black hair was now cut shorter than it had been back at the Manor, it still had the same bushy texture he remembered.

"Healer Walker-" he started, completely unsure of what to say. If he were honest, had he seen her first he probably would have slipped out of the shop trying to stay as undetected as possible. Obviously he wasn't brave enough to reach out to the witch he poured his heart out to on their last day at the Manor, otherwise he would have done it by now.

"Nadine," she corrected him, nervously, "please, it's Nadine."

"Nadine, then," he nodded and then cringed the second the next words came out of his mouth, "how are you?"

Why would he ask her a question like that? He very well knew how she was, even if she turned and walked away from him right then and there.

"I'm… doing alright," the lie fell from her mouth with less ease than it did his own.

"Is that Healer Walker?" Harry asked from the other side of the door in front of Severus. He quickly opened the door, the confliction on his young face painfully obvious. Then it turned a bright red and he simply said, "Hi."

"Hi," she gave an equally awkward wave and Severus was sure she regretted her decision to step into the shop, "it's good to see you, Harry. You're looking well."

Harry self-consciously looked down, as if inspecting himself or expecting himself to turn a shade of blue.

"Well," she looked over to see where Madam Malkin had walked off to the counter and where a set of blue robes - what she must have been by to pick up - sat waiting for her to finish purchasing, "you both look busy and I just wanted to say 'hi' and see how both were-"

"If you're free later," Severus interrupted her nervous dialogue, "perhaps we could find somewhere to talk?"

The question left his mouth before his brain even knew what it was telling him to do. Somewhere after she said his name until that moment, he had come to the conclusion that he wanted to clear the air between them. He'd been meaning to get in touch with her, except he never seemed to have the right reason. Now seemed as good of time as any.

"I'd like that," The healer visibly relaxed at his suggestion and Severus knew he'd made the right decision to ask. "I have to make a couple more stops and it looks like you're -" she pointed to his unfitted dress robes, " - going to be a little bit still, but I can meet you both over at Theobold's for lunch later?"

Severus quickly agreed, anxious to get the last of his reconciliations behind him. Maybe then he could finally put the wounds he'd been carrying for far too long to rest and move on.

"Were you flirting with Healer Walker?" Harry asked once they finally left Madam Malkin's, both new sets of dress robes shrunken and safely stored in Severus's pocket.

"Hardly."

Harry let a couple of seconds pass before adding, "Then why did you ask her on a date?"

That definitely caught Severus's attention. "I did not ask her on a date," he whispered to avoid any onlookers - who were increasing in numbers as the day continued - from overhearing, "I simply wanted to take some time to clear the air between us."

"It sounded like a date."

"You're going to be there."

"So?"

"Harry," Severus said, turning to the young wizard, determined to get to the bottom of whatever the teen was misunderstanding, "regardless of what you may think, two adults of the opposite gender can have coffee together without there being any romantic feelings, especially if one of them is married already."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked rather pointedly.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I did spend two months locked in a cell with her," he could feel the emotions from his imprisonment starting to surface and in an effort to rebury them, he threw out a fact to completely derail the unapproachable conversation. "Plus, where I'm originally from, she was your healer."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, causing the people around them to look over. Severus waved them off as Harry turned to whisper, "Does she know that? Why didn't you tell me this before? Like when I saw her get captured?!"

"It didn't exactly seem relevant at the time," he answered, watching the people around them start to stir, "and this is hardly the place to discuss something like this."

Harry turned around and saw what Severus did. More people had joined in taking notice of them. Even the small white kitten from the robe shop appeared to be stalking the wizards, almost with an attitude strutting down the Alley.

"Let's go get some lunch at Theobold's and then-"

"Harry?!" A loud screech came from behind them, startling the former spy more than it should have.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, "Dear Merlin," not at all surprised when he turned and saw Ron and Hermione waving over from near Flourish and Blotts.

"Can I go with them and meet you after your date?" Harry asked with a smirk.

This child was going to be the end of him someday; he just knew it. "Go ahead," he instructed, "but under no circumstances are you to call my having coffee with Healer Walker a date again, agreed?"

"Agreed," the Gryffindor said, and took off to be with his friends.

To Severus, it had to be one of the best sights of the summer: Harry actually reaching out to his friends and appearing genuinely excited to see them, even if it came at the expense of hearing Ronald Weasley call out, "Did you say Snape's going on a date?"


Theobold's Cafe and Tearoom was a newer establishment in Diagon Alley, only opening up in the last decade, which of course made it a big deal in a location that had been built back in the 1500's. The more modern - some, Severus included, would choose to describe it as cleaner and brighter as opposed to modern - style was highly debated after its opening, nevertheless it had so far stood the test of the wizarding world and became the preferred locale to stop for simple sandwiches with tea or coffee.

The single room barely fit the sea of small, two- or four-person square tables in the center, with larger booth style seats along the perimeter, all of which were covered in a plain, cream colored tablecloths made of some kind of fabric Draco could certainly identify, to match the brightly painted sandstone walls. Darker brown exposed beams contrasted the paint between them and ran the length of the ceiling, working their way down the wall to the floor, giving the dining area a very earthly feel to it. Nothing about Theobold's appeared modern to him, and even the name sounded like a misnomer when one walked into the quaint restaurant.

He easily spotted Nadine off to the right, already seated at a four person table looking through the clashing blue menu sitting open in front of her. Looking around the room, blue tea cups were stacked and positioned at all different angles on the walls - held by magic, no doubt - and Severus questioned who decided on such a bright accent color to the otherwise subdued decor. They made the room itself feel more disorienting to him than he already felt just standing in the entryway.

As if recognizing herself being watched, and if he were honest, she was probably more aware of that type of thing after her experience, Nadine lifted her head and gave him a warm smile he knew, deep down, he didn't deserve. There were four other couples and one family of six sitting in the restaurant all of who were whispering as he passed.

"Apparently you're famous now," Nadine laughed after he awkwardly sat in the dark wooden chair across from her. "Of course, killing the darkest wizard of our time will do that to a person."

"In hindsight, I'm lucky I didn't end up in Azkaban," he commented. "With all those witnesses and what I have on my arm, no one would have thought twice if I'd gotten the Dementor's Kiss."

"As always, you're too hard on yourself."

He wasn't about to argue the fact any longer. She had known what he did from their many conversations about her need to do something awful against her will. At least she'd been coerced into slicing open Draco's arm and draining his blood every other night, Severus had voluntarily agreed to take the Mark and killed when asked to. No one threatened the person he loved, nor had his life been in danger when he acted as a Death Eater; at least at the beginning. He'd come to terms - or so he thought he had - with those demons years ago, yet Harry's vision about the prophecy and their subsequent capture had opened that wound and he hadn't exactly been able to figure out how to close it again.

"No Harry?" She changed the topic away from the one they both knew they were there to discuss, but neither really ready to start, "I had expected him to be close by."

"He found his friends," Severus gave a small smile at the sight of the young wizard taking off like any normal seventeen year old. "I suspect he'll arrive once they've had time to catch up with him."

The healer nodded mindlessly, but before she could speak again, a small witch appeared at their table to take their order: a ham sandwich with crisps and a cup of camomile tea for Nadine and a bowl of stew with black coffee for Severus. The redhead waitress could not be much older than Harry, but surprisingly not someone Severus recognized from Hogwarts, meaning she either had private tutoring or went to one of the other schools. The fact she did not write their orders down - an act which always made Severus nervous - gave him little confidence they would actually be getting what they had ordered.

"How is Harry doing?" Nadine questioned once their coffee and tea arrived, inching them closer to the taboo topic. "I've been meaning to reach out to him, but I wasn't sure how he'd take hearing from me."

He could lie… tell her things were fine, that the young wizard had adjusted to his new treatment regimen and living situation well enough, and he was coping perfectly after what he'd experienced. She'd know, and not just from his pregnant pause as he contemplated his two paths in the conversation, but because in her bright blue eyes he could see she struggled the same as Harry; as they all were. While the world around regaled in their narrow escape from their imprisonment, the conquering of Voldemort, and Harry's heroic sacrifice for the man he started to see as a father, they were left trying to find the missing pieces from their old life; not understanding those pieces had been permanently altered or left behind.

"Harry probably would not have read your letter," Severus answered honestly. "Until recently, he's been more or less ignoring all of his incoming missives."

The healer furrowed her brows with a frown, physically looking as concerned as he felt on the inside, "That's very concerning. You both look well, but I know looks can be deceiving."

Not even he could miss her not so subtle message. "They certainly can. How have you been since… everything?"

Nadine looked down at her tea cup, nervously fidgeting with it between her slender hands. Those hands had healed him time and time again, after every meeting with Voldemort for two months. She hadn't known him or anything about him when she fixed his broken rib and the countless number of wounds caused by Rabastan, Lucius, and Voldemort on the night of his capture, but she had known about it all, by the end, and yet her healing continued regardless.

"I never had the chance to thank you," he added when it became clear she needed help in starting the long overdue conversation.

It got her attention, because her head whipped up causing her short black hair to pass right over her face. "What do you have to thank me for?" She argued, "You're the one who saved us!"

This time, Severus turned to look away, and to keep his mind occupied while he fumbled through the exchange, he counted the blue tea cups around the room. He made it to twenty-four cups before the sound of Nadine clearing her throat caught his attention.

"You continued to heal me" he told her as if he were talking about the weather, "even after everything… after seeing my Mark."

"Well, it's not like you were faring any better than I was at that point," she sighed, "besides, it's my job, to heal… or at least it used to be. You, on the other hand, didn't have to do everything you did to help get me ready for… the ritual.

"I was never questioned about it," she added, "did you know that? It seemed like no one even cared about it in the end."

"I told you they wouldn't," he hated to sound as snarky as he did, nonetheless, her small smile told him it was the right thing to say in the moment. "You were working on his orders and I'd be surprised if anyone thought any different. Now, if you had been marked… well that would be different."

"Or if Draco hadn't been," the healer challenged him. "I get the impression had it been Harry used in the ritual, or any other non-marked sixteen year old, it would have been a bigger deal than they made it."

Unfortunately, she wasn't necessarily wrong. While the Malfoys had been given more clemency than anyone had expected, they weren't left completely unscathed. Obviously his meeting with Lucius had brought to light just how much they were struggling; no different than himself, Harry, and Dr Swanson or Healer Walker. And yet the details of Draco's sacrifice - for Voldemort in exchange for his life - went more or less unreported by the media. Until now, he suspected the lack of coverage came from the media's fear over what drawing attention to the ancient ritual could do, and more specifically, what could happen if it fell into the wrong hands. What Nadine had just proposed caused him to question that suspicion and if the outcome could have been different had Harry given the blood instead of Draco. As far as he knew, the reason for Harry's surviving the killing curse the second time had not been made public for similar reasons, - to not draw attention to horcruxes in an effort to prevent people from attempting to make them - so maybe he wasn't too far off, but ultimately, he would never know the answer.

"I don't know," Severus admitted, and then decided to get back on track by asking, "what did you mean when you said your job was to heal? You're not working at St Mungo's any longer?"

Again, Nadine averted her eyes, but only for a moment this time. "No, I'm not," she told him, "I've decided on a sabbatical. And after being held captive by… him… I guess they weren't about to deny my request."

"Will you go back?" The question sounded odd, but he knew from his other life how seriously she took her specialty on muggle diseases. Of course, back there, Harry was the most complicated case she had and she took his death almost as hard as any of them.

"I don't know what's in my future yet," she gave a small, ironic laugh not meant to be funny in the slightest, "L- Lucius reached out to me. He's… he's starting a, I don't even know what it is, for muggle diseases and he wants me to head it. I guess Draco's taken an interest in healing, of all things, and he wants me to help train him after his final year at Hogwarts."

Severus made sure his face stayed as neutral as he could. Though he'd never gotten the details behind the animosity between the other Slytherin and Nadine, he knew she vehemently hated the man. "And how do you feel about that?"

"I don't know," she mirrored his previous answer. "If I'm honest, it's everything I've ever dreamed of, if only it were for any other family. To expect me to turn around and work for them? Who is he kidding, right?!"

"I don't think you should be so quick to dismiss the opportunity," he claimed. "You likely wouldn't see Lucius or Narcissa, therefore you shouldn't feel the need to pass up something like this on those grounds alone."

"Is that the advice you give to yourself?" His face gave away the shock before he could stop himself. "Lucius told me he offered you a similar position. He wouldn't say if you've accepted it or not."

Lucius obviously saw the need for a healer of Nadine's caliber and specialty for his endeavor to become successful - Severus would call him a fool had he not reached out to the Ravenclaw - yet why would the elder Malfoy assume his own position could influence Nadine's decision?

"That's probably because he expects me to change my mind," he cryptically replied. "My situation, however, is quite a bit different than yours. I have Harry to consider and his need to be at Hogwarts this year. If it weren't for that, I might consider the offer."

She smiled at his own indecisive answer. In his old reality, he craved the answers he wasn't given when his son was diagnosed: why had Harry gotten it - the obvious one everyone always asked - except for him, he always questioned why magic couldn't do more to cure it? Moving into this reality, the need to fulfill that simple quest hadn't gone away with last year's events and he still found himself behind the familiarity of his books searching for a way to prevent another father from going through the nightmare he currently lived through. Plus, while Harry's prognosis looked promising today, they both knew it could change at any one of these chemotherapy appointments. And even if didn't - and Harry never had to deal with Leukemia again, not all children were as lucky as the Gryffindor. Deep into his core, he wanted to be behind the research potions bench, it just wasn't the right year; Harry's current needs came first and for that reason, Lucius would have to learn some patience.

"Well," the witch across from him continued, "I'm still not sure what I want to do yet."

Severus went to speak - to perhaps provide some kind of solace to her - when their waitress returned with their lunch, causing him to pause his thoughts on the matter. Out of nowhere, as his beef stew in its white, floral bowl was placed down in front of him, his heart rate increased exponentially and his anxiety instantly rose. The smell… it reminded him of the measly stew practically thrown at them in the cell at Malfoy Manor, and based on the look from Nadine across the table, she recognized it too.

"Excuse me," the professor called out to the red-headed witch, who didn't hesitate to return to their table with a smile, "can I get this wrapped up? I seem to have lost my appetite this afternoon."

He'd bring it home for Harry, and be sure to go down to his potions laboratory while the young wizard ate it.

"Is there something else I can get for you-"

Severus didn't have time to tell her "no thank you", nor did Nadine have the time to offer a piece of her sandwich to him instead, because suddenly the windows facing out to Diagon Alley shattered. Reacting purely on his instincts, the former spy stood and pushed the young waitress to the ground, so she could be safely covered by the tables, and then did the same to Nadine - this time joining her down on the ground - just in case another attack came their way. The air around them smelled of burning wood and he wanted, no he needed, to get to Harry.

"Stay here," he told the frightened Healer when it appeared, at least for the time being, there wouldn't be a second attack. "I need to go find Harry."

"I'll come with you," she called, brandishing her reed wand, "if anyone's injured, they'll need help."

Without wanting to argue and cause a further delay, he motioned his head to the door for her to follow him. They walked carefully through the restaurant reassuring the other patrons it would be alright, though not having any clue if it would or not. As he approached the door leading outside, the fear in the pit of stomach grew exponentially with the burning scent pouring in through the doorway. Outside was both pure chaos and deafeningly loud with people running up, down, and across the cobblestone street, trying to find safety and their loved ones. Severus's blood ran cold when he saw the rush of people running past him and the unmistakable sound of Harry screaming in obvious pain.

~~~~HP~~~~

"Mum's pretty much gone crazy at this point," Ron complained as the three friends walked outside of Flourish and Blotts, where Mrs Weasley went in to pick up some kind of special ordered stationary for the wedding, thrilled to be asked to help. Harry tried his best to ignore the whispers coming from the people walking by them, though every so often he stopped and gave a small wave. "She's been checking our robes, and packing then unpacking us for days now! Not to mention, cleaning all around the house, you'd think the wedding was going to be there instead of… wherever… in France."

"Locronan in Brittany, Ron," Hermione corrected with a laugh. "I haven't been to that part of France with mum and dad, but I hear it's supposed to be a beautiful location for a wedding."

Ron gave a disgusted face while Hermione swooned, causing Harry to chuckle a little.

"Did I tell you Severus is going to let me go?" Harry told them, then quickly added, "Assuming I'm feeling alright some crazy amount of days beforehand."

"That's great, mate!" Ron replied, "Lav was supposed to come as my plus one, but her parents wouldn't let her travel to France for a wedding without them. Now I won't be all alone anymore!"

Harry looked between his two friends, not at all trying to hide his confusion. Ron was peering over to Hermione who had an expression of pure panic upon her face.

"What's going on, 'Mione?" He carefully asked, halfway afraid of whatever the answer could be.

"It's just," the young witch started, biting her right thumbnail nervously, "Draco's coming as my date."

"Oh," Harry found himself saying, his voice laced with thick disappointment. Of course she'd bring her boyfriend as her date, he wasn't exactly sure why he hadn't anticipated that first. Trying to be supportive, he said, "That's fine. I'll hang out with Ron and Severus, or... any of the other Weasleys."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she immediately cried, placing a hand on his forearm and giving it a careful squeeze, "I just… I should have told you earlier… I didn't think you'd be there because of chemotherapy being so close and I know you guys haven't really-"

"It's fine, Hermione," he sounded more confident than he felt inside and that was exactly what he wanted to portray to her. If he were going back to Hogwarts - which is what it sounded like he would be doing - he needed to learn to accept his friends moving on without him. That didn't mean it would be easy, or that he wouldn't feel resentment fill him up inside, but outwardly he needed to appear in control and understanding. "I promise I won't cause any issues there, but is Mrs Weasley alright with it?"

"Oh, of course!" She called out. "I asked her before I invited him. I wouldn't… oh my goodness… I would never put her in that position."

"At this point," Ron jumped in, "mum would agree to just about anything."

The comment, and its insinuation, granted Ron another friendly slap from Hermione across his upper arm. They started talking back and forth, with Harry hardly paying any attention. Instead he focused on the small, partially muddy white kitten - most likely the same one he'd seen in Madam Malkin's - stalking around the edges of the shops. Every-so-often the fluffy kitten would crouch down and then pounce at what Harry could only assume to be a bug because it was far too small to be going after anything bigger, like a rat or a mouse. At this point in the afternoon most of the wizarding marketplace was now bustling with activity, and surprisingly none of them noticed the splash of white fur poking around at their feet. Harry rolled his eyes when he discovered the reasoning: most of them were paying far too much attention to him to see the kitten so out of place in the street.

"It's not my fault Lavender had to cancel at the last minute-," he heard Hermione start to say, stopping when a wizard in bright purple robes approached them. The stranger looked to be in his mid-fifties, rather plump with a head full of unruly brown hair, and a moustache reminding him too much of Uncle Vernon.

"Mr Potter, it's so good to see you," the wizard reached his hand to shake Harry's, and the young Gryffindor pulled his own back at the last moment.

"Who are you?" Harry asked cautiously, while Ron and Hermione stepped closer to him.

"Please forgive me," the wizard placed his own right hand over his chest and lifted his left into the air. At this point, the hair on the back of Harry's neck rose as he noticed more attention being drawn to them. He needed to get rid of the stranger, and quickly, before anyone else had the daft idea to actually approach him. "My name is Otis… Otis Cribbe and I followed everything about your abduction in the Prophet. I'm so honored to finally get to see you… or, meet you rather."

Harry took a step back when Otis took one towards him. In the face of the threat - perceived or real - the young wizard was hyper aware of the weight of his wand resting in his jeans pocket. Being of age meant he could use it now without fear of retribution, except he didn't know if his untrained magic would cooperate. What would happen if he attempted a spell his new magic hadn't technically learned yet? Deciding magic wasn't a viable option and going to find Snape was the better plan, he turned to walk away, until he felt himself being pulled back by a hand on his shoulder. Again, Harry's mind brought him back to a different place; back to Privet Drive when his uncle would take hold of him. Reacting purely on his instincts, the young Gryffindor turned around quickly, his arm extending at the right length to knock the plump wizard off balance and onto the ground, himself falling shortly afterwards.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, kneeling down to her friend who was now on his hands and knees panting, fighting off a wave of nausea.

The raven-haired wizard could hear the commotion around him increasing in intensity, however none of the words were coherent enough to make out. It all sounded like he'd fallen miles under the ocean and he closed his eyes tightly to help reorientate himself. Embracing the darkness, hoping when he opened his eyes, he'd be alone, his reprieve was interrupted by a series of bright lights. To his horror, when he finally opened his eyes, he saw Rita Skeeter pushing her way through the gathered crowd with a photographer behind her; his camera lifted taking pictures haphazardly over her head, almost in slow motion.

"What is going on-" Harry heard Mrs Weasley's commanding voice coming from the doorway to Flourish and Blotts on his right, and later he would say she looked at him petrified, though Ron and Hermione would disagree with his version of it. Mrs Weasley eventually stood between him and Rita Skeeter, while the latter kept talking in her high, shrill voice.

I need to get out of here! Harry thought to himself, in a panic.

Suddenly, as all of the people around him seemed to be getting closer and his lungs strained for the air his brain so desperately needed, there came a loud boom! from behind the group of spectators and in front of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Mrs Weasley. Using the opportunity as a distraction - completely unaware and uninterested in the cause of the explosion - Harry turned and ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction from the mob of people.

The acrid smell of burning wood hit Harry's nose, and while he slowed his pace down slightly, he didn't dare stop to find out why. For once in his life, the need to put as much space between him and the danger outweighed his Gryffindor bravery. Of course, what he hadn't considered was the image of running away after knocking someone to the ground followed by an explosion would appear to those around him. Snape. He needed to find Snape and then they could get out of there and go back home. Using his well honed running skills - from his newly picked up hobby and from his childhood escaping Dudley and his gang of friends - the young wizard darted in and out of the crowd, all of who were surely headed towards Flourish and Blotts to find out what had happened.

"Stop!"

"... slow down…"

"Catch him-"

The sounds of the people chasing him rang through his ears and just as he rounded the turn towards Knockturn Alley, a strong hand gripped his upper arm with so much force he thought it would rip his arm from its socket while he was still in motion. His feet dragged on the ground, scuffing his trainers up more than they already were, and he knew what was coming, he could feel the surge of his magic tingling throughout him ready to burst.

"Lemme go!" He screamed, still struggling against the faceless wizard pulling him back to where he'd come from. "Please, you need-"

Suddenly, Harry cried out in pain as he felt his magic turn into him and his body started shaking as if he were being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse or Voldemort's possession again. The hands tightly closed around his upper arm quickly released him and Harry fell to the hard cobblestone ground, still writhing in pain while the electric current continued to course through his body, leaving no part untouched.

Around him, people started to gather, at first to question his involvement with the explosion, then to watch in a horrible fascination as The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice fought against an invisible enemy. Harry couldn't hear anything outside of his own screaming and labored breaths, otherwise he would have heard his friends, Mrs Weasley, Snape, and Healer Walker pushing their way through the crowd, trying to make their way to him. Finally, Harry's eyes made contact with Snape's as soon as the professor made it to the edge of the circle surrounding him and as quickly as the electrifying pain started, it stopped.

Flooded with relief from the pain ending and knowing Snape would take care of everything, Harry's eyes got heavy and he welcomed the incoming darkness before the professor - with the healer directly behind him - even made his way to where the Gryffindor lay on the street in the middle of Diagon Alley.

To be continued...
End Notes:
Coming up Next: The Witness


This story archived at http://www.potionsandsnitches.org/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=3628