~~~~HP~~~~

Harry opened his eyes surprised to find he didn't feel the familiar aches and pains he'd come to associate with his chemotherapy days and the several to follow. Swinging his bare feet over the side of the bed, his muscles weren't protesting as they usually would have, his stomach wasn't roiling, and his mind wasn't clouded with the almost constant fatigue, even when he didn't have chemotherapy that day. Somehow he felt completely back to normal - even better than before his fifth year - and while it should have been a red flag something wasn't exactly right with the situation, the Gryffindor didn't question it.

Looking down, he was dressed in an odd pair of pyjamas - a dark grey oversized t-shirt he recognized as Dudley's, mismatched with silk bottoms as black as the night - which made no sense. Not giving it a second thought, Harry stood on his shaky legs, ignorant to the absence of the sudden coldness that usually greeted him from the old wooden floor. Instead, he found himself relishing in the warmth magically radiating from the boards into the soles of his bare feet as he walked across the room and into the dark corridor. For the first time since waking up, he realized it was still dark outside, yet he had the energy of someone waking up from a midday nap. Carefully heading down the stairs, listening closely for any sign of Snape still awake in the early hours before dawn, he frowned when the creaking he'd come to expect didn't sound; in fact, he made it to the bottom without a single noise escaping from the rickety old staircase.

When Harry turned into the sitting room, he stopped dead in his tracks. Something wasn't right, the room was completely empty. Where the armchair and sofa used to sit - on top of an old rug - the floors were completely barren. The towering bookcases were still in place, but their shelves lacked the weight of the hundred books that used to overfill them. His footsteps echoed across the tiny space, somehow making it feel suffocatingly small and expansive at the same time. Trekking through the room, still mystified on where their - ok, mostly Snape's - belongings had gone, Harry nervously opened the door leading into the kitchen and his stomach dropped. Just as in the sitting room, the kitchen had been cleared out completely. Gone were their plain ceramic dishes stored on the open shelving over the countertop, and the small three person table - which used to sit awkwardly pushed against the right wall - was missing. The biggest change in this room, unlike the previous one he'd been in, was the cabinets and countertops: neither one the newer renovated pieces he and Snape selected and installed before the summer holiday, but instead were back to the original yellowed ones they had replaced before moving in. He could no longer keep the panic from rising within him, his breathing became rapid, and his body started to ache. Where was Snape and why was the house in the condition before it had been fixed up? How was that even possible? Had he swapped realities like Snape did last year?

Thinking back, the young wizard couldn't remember what he'd been doing before waking up wherever he was now. Chemotherapy. Logically, when he awoke, he had expected to feel sick from his chemotherapy, so had he been at the chemo center? Or had he made it home already? Unable to answer those two simple questions, finding Snape quickly became his top priority.

The Gryffindor turned on his heels and raced out of the kitchen, back to the stairs. This time, as he climbed to the second floor, the creaking followed him on each step he took. Though puzzled by the random change, he didn't stop to question why the stairs had previously remained silent. The only place he could think was to get to Snape's bedroom because surely the professor had to still be asleep. Without considering the consequences, the Gryffindor pushed open the rickety wooden door and again stopped dead in his tracks. Where Snape's bedroom should have been was now a perfect replica of the Malfoy Manor drawing room, exactly as he'd last seen it at the end of the battle on the 16th of May, only instead of being filled with Death Eaters and prisoners, it was empty. Slowly, Harry started backing up, desperate to get out as fast as possible, except only centimeters from the door, it slammed behind him; clipping the side of his arm so hard he wouldn't be surprised when the bruise showed up. He turned and grabbed at the brass knob to leave, but froze when the voice he never thought he'd hear again spoke from behind him.

"Leaving so soon, Harry Potter?" The sound of Voldemort's icy, yet exhilarated tone immediately put the young wizard on defense. He grabbed for his wand and cringed when he realized he had nowhere to store it in the odd pyjamas, nor did he even think about grabbing it when he first left his bedroom. "I always thought you were a coward, hiding behind your friends, letting them do all the work and making all the sacrifices while you sat back and reaped the benefits and fame from them."

Something about that statement - one he'd heard too many times from Draco to ignore - caused the anger within him to rise. Harry's fists were clenched at his sides, itching to lash out at the evil wizard who had taken so much from him, unable to logically conclude that the man had been killed. He didn't see the body, after all, so in his mind he managed to convince himself it could be real. Maybe Voldemort hadn't actually been killed and he'd been locked away in the Department of Mysteries all this time, only to have somehow secretly escaped?

The reason didn't matter, only that when he turned to face the serpentined wizard, he refused to back down. As with everything else in the Gryffindor's life lately, nothing was as it seemed, and before him wasn't only Voldemort standing in the empty drawing room as expected, but Snape was laying on the ground at the dark wizard's bare feet moaning in pain.

"Severus!" Harry yelled and when he tried to run to the man who, for all intents and purposes, was his father, he was magically thrown to the ground. Above him, Voldemort's pale face started to laugh maniacally.

"You're a fool, Harry Potter!" The dark wizard taunted.

"H-h-h," the slumped form of Snape groaned from the floor in front of them.

Determined not to let Voldemort win this time, Harry pulled himself up off the floor ready to fight - in a muggle fist fight if necessary. Ignoring his swaying body, the Gryffindor stood debating his first move. Just as he had back in May, Voldemort started to circle menacingly around the young wizard and Snape, while Harry watched for any signs of the Killing Curse coming towards him. In preparation to defend himself or Snape, he lifted his arm and audibly gasped when he saw they were covered in black spots - not much bigger than a Sickle - almost swimming across his skin. He used his right hand to poke one of the spots and it floated from the top of his arm to the underside. As the seconds ticked away the spots began to multiply and enlarge. With each round, Harry started to feel more fatigued and achy, until he could barely hold himself upright and he ended up crumbling to the floor.

Laying helplessly, Harry looked around and saw Voldemort laughing, but no sound came out from his sinister mouth. In fact, the only sound the young wizard could hear was the beating of his own heart drumming into his ears and the whooshing of his blood drowning out anything and everything around him. He didn't need to hear to know what was coming next when Voldemort stopped circling, directly in front of Snape, and pulled back his ivory wand. Harry tried to crawl, to place himself between the green light he knew would be coming any second and Snape. If only the black spots - now encasing his entire body, making it impossible for him to move - would release him from their hold, he could have made it in time, he could have saved Snape instead of watching the green light leave Voldemort's wand and hit his father-figure directly onto his chest.

Harry screamed, and gasped for breath - panicking from feeling as if he would never be able to properly breathe again - positive the green killing curse would be slamming into his chest at any moment. When nothing came, he tentatively opened his eyes, unable to see the close quarters of the bedroom he'd come to feel the most comfortable in, and instead still stuck in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor.

"Harry!" Snape's baritone voice cut through the chaos in his head and when the young wizard turned towards the side of his bed, he was legitimately confused to see the professor watching him intently. "You're safe, son."

"Severus?" The young wizard confirmed in a whispered voice, but as the haziness around the room started to clear, Harry's eyes shifted their focus from the comforting onyx black eyes directly in front of him to the wisp of platinum blonde over the professor's left shoulder. The Gryffindor's breathing exponentially increased and he moved so quickly to the far edge of his bed a strong wave of nausea passed through his weakened body. Harry started shaking his head back and forth rapidly, trying to rid the hallucination of Lucius Malfoy from his bedroom, and repeating to himself, "No… he's not here… it's only in my head… I'm home..."

Snape turned to follow where Harry's eyes had focused, not surprised to see Lucius standing just on the inside threshold of the room. If possible, his face had paled more than normal, and his grey eyes were wide taking in the scene before him.

"Lucius," the professor urgently called back to the other wizard, all the while Harry continued to mutter, still thinking he was stuck somewhere between his nightmare and reality, "would you mind waiting in the sitting room?"

Lucius straightened himself up and stoically answered, "I can see myself out. We'll discuss the arrangements for your new position after the start of term, in case you find you have less… availability… than you originally expected."

Somehow Harry managed to pick up on the small statement. Is Snape going to work for Lucius Malfoy, of all people? The thought consumed his mind, filling in each small crevasse trying to sort through the reasons why the professor would want to go help out the Malfoys. The active thinking - even if illogical - helped calm him from the almost hysterical state he'd been in, to one where he could start to see around him. The dark and dreary walls of the Malfoy Manor drawing room melted away and in their place the soft blue from his bedroom appeared, adorned with his Gryffindor flags, Quidditch posters, and sketches he'd done of his friends and family - Snape and Dudley.

No longer able to hold back the acrid bile rising against the back of his throat, Harry turned and grabbed the pail from the side of his bed nearest the window. His body shook through the waves of heaving and he concentrated as hard as he could on the warm, steady hand placed firmly on his back.

"He's not dead," Harry announced the moment his voice recovered from the vomiting. He started violently shaking his head back and forth to help emphasize his point, "Voldemort… he was here and-"

"He is dead, Harry," Snape moved up closer onto the bed so he was facing the Gryffindor. "I killed him myself with the wand you secured for me. He is gone. Forever."

"But I didn't see him," Harry lifted his eyes, pleading for answers. How could they be sure he had been killed if neither of them were conscious? "And you…"

Harry trailed off. They hadn't ever talked about that night. In fact, if it weren't for McGonagall, Harry wouldn't have known Snape had passed out, and he wasn't about to mention it to the man in front of him.

Without any words exchanged, Snape picked up Harry's new yellow blanket, which had fallen to the floor from his thrashing, and wrapped it snuggly around Harry's shoulders. Then he pulled his wand and repaired the broken glass on the floor - from the fallen cup of water Harry always kept on the bedside table - and tapped the edge of the glass to fill it with a silent Aguamenti before handing it to the young wizard. Harry welcomed the relief the cool, fresh water provided, although it sat so heavily on his stomach he could only manage two sips; afraid he'd start vomiting again.

"I saw his lifeless body that night," Snape eventually explained. "After Kingsley woke me up, they escorted me out. Whether intentionally or not, I walked right past the bodies of those killed that night. Moody had been guarding the dead, and first in line was Voldemort. He is dead, Harry, and he cannot come back this time."

Somehow, hearing that proclamation didn't help to ease his anxiety as much as he thought it would.

"How can you be sure?" Harry quietly asked. "He came back last time. How do we know he doesn't have another horcrux out there somewhere?"

Snape paused, making Harry slightly uncomfortable, "I… spoke with Albus several weeks ago. He spent a good portion of last year considering that very question and determined any potential horcruxes have been… taken care of."

"So he's really-"

"-dead, yes."

Harry's shaky breathing filled the silence between them as he looked over his arm, remembering the black spots practically floating right underneath his skin. Just a nightmare, he thought to himself. It had been a very realistic nightmare incorporating everything he'd been ignoring since the start of the summer: his fears over Voldemort's return, Snape's abandonment of him, and his Leukemia growing inside of his blood.

"What happened at the Manor the night of the battle?" The young wizard asked the question he needed to know all along, but never felt comfortable enough to ask.

Snape shifted uncomfortably on the bed, glancing at the clock - a quarter to one in the morning - then ran his hand across the back of his neck.

"Is there something specific…"

"I just-" Harry thought about what exactly he wanted to know, "-where were you? And how did the Order get there?"

Nodding almost mindlessly, Snape started in on what he knew the Gryffindor - both of them really - needed to finally talk about, "I was kept in a small cell in the dungeons with Healer Walker. As I mentioned the other day, she was your Healer where I came from and she provided Voldemort with the Potions formulas needed to combat the cancer. I spent most of my time there brewing them."

"What about the rest of the time?"

Snape narrowed his eyes, remembering moments Harry knew they both wanted to forget.

"Occasionally, I was permitted to leave," the professor recalled, "but those instances were limited to the delivery of his weekly potions and were… incredibly uncomfortable."

Harry's eyes widened at the implication Snape made. "I was ok there," the Gryffindor almost randomly said, "I mean, I wasn't hurt or anything… not like that o-or the way Draco was used. So then why does it still bother me so much?"

"You were imprisoned against your will by the megalomaniac who murdered your parents, and for years had tried to murder you," Snape explained, "it's a natural reaction to feel abused even if you were never touched in any way."

The statement - and validation of his feelings - opened a floodgate within the young wizard. He found he wanted to say all the things that he'd been hiding away for months.

"I'm sorry, Severus," those three words chipped away the largest part of the boulder sitting on top of his chest. "I shouldn't have left. If you hadn't gone out looking for me that night, you never would have been taken and then-"

"We spoke about this already, Harry," Snape reminded him, "your reactions were justified. I should have told you about my role with the prophecy, that I sent Voldemort to your family's doorstep. It's a regret I live with everyday and I know changing my alliances to the Order does not erase that evil act; it will forever live with me."

"It had to happen like it did though," Harry justified. "Isn't that the thing with prophecies?"

Snape gave a hmph of disbelief, "Divinations is hardly a science, magical or otherwise. Did we fulfill the prophecy? Most likely, however it's just as likely to have been self-fulfilled."

Harry couldn't hold back his own chuckle, even knowing the act would cause his aching body to hurt.

"He was here," Harry started to tell the professor about his dream, ignoring the nerves churning in his stomach, "I woke up in my room, but the house was completely empty… like you'd moved without me. And when I went to your room to find you, I walked into the drawing room and he was there. He wouldn't let me leave… and you were dying on the floor… I tried to get to you, to save you like last time, but these… black spots started to grow under my skin… I think it represented the cancer because I got really tired and fell to the floor, not able to move and then he… this time I couldn't move to stand in between you and the Killing Curse."

"We survived, Harry," Snape told him, clearly, "We are surviving and we will do everything in our power to continue surviving. I promise, I am not leaving you behind. Not ever."

The words were exactly what Harry needed to hear, and while some of the pain went away, he recognized it would take more of these conversations. These times where he could check in and release his fears and doubts.

"I think I'd like to see the doctor Dr Swanson recommended," Harry bravely admitted, thinking back to the black spots - the Leukemia in his blood - expanding and growing exponentially. It showed how uncertain he felt about trusting his treatments to continue working.

"I can certainly arrange it," Snape said, without judgement. "Are you sure you'd rather the muggle physician instead of the squib the Malfoys are seeing? Then you could be more open about the other areas of your life."

Harry thought about it, but he needed someone who knew what he was going through specifically in relation to his cancer. Yes, there were a lot of other situations to deal with - to talk about - but he also had a lot of support from his family and friends for those.

"Yeah," the Gryffindor answered, "I want to see the muggle doctor."

Snape nodded, "Is there anything else you'd like to know from our time at the Manor?"

Harry sat up taller in his bed, finding he wasn't nearly as tired as he would have expected to be, "How did the Order know how to get into the Manor?"

The question kick-started a conversation lasting until almost dawn. The pair of wizards only stopped periodically for Harry to sick up - in the loo or the pail, when he was too sore to move - and for Snape to bring up some soup and a smoothie around three in the morning, before settling in on the other side of the bed, facing Harry. The former spy spent most of the time walking the Gryffindor through the rather brilliant plan he worked on with Lucius to use the peacocks to take missives to the Order guard on duty; a position he knew the Order put there months ago. The former spy explained how he had learned about the tunnels from Lucius and they both had a good laugh over Harry's retelling of the ghost story Draco told him when the young wizard had learned of them himself. Severus walked through the plan for the night of their rescue, which teams were assigned where, and finally, how it all went wrong.

The conversation wasn't limited to Snape's point of view during their time at the Manor. Harry told the professor everything about his own - and admittedly more comfortable - experience; how he felt about sharing a room with Draco, about chemotherapy and Dr Swanson drilling into him the ability to identify his tablet medications as a precaution, about Narcissa's assistance during the rougher sick nights, and their trips to the back gardens and library in hopes of trying to find their own way out of there. The young wizard touched on Draco's rituals and how the two of them fell into this strange camaraderie when neither teen expected to walk out of there alive. Harry opened up about how vulnerable he felt and how he still hadn't been able to open the letters he'd received from Draco, even after knowing they were about Hermione. He'd told the young Slytherin more about his life growing up than he was comfortable with the blonde knowing - his experience with starting chemotherapy and how unsure he felt about his future - and now he had no idea how to act around the other wizard. Running into Draco Malfoy at the start of term - or even worse, at the wedding! - had to be the number one thing Harry was not looking forward to, and by the end of his story, he felt comfortable enough to tell Snape about that worry.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Snape reassured the anxious wizard, "but I do have a feeling Draco is similarly concerned about your first meeting."

"For some reason, I think he's more likely to hex me into oblivion than quietly walk away," Harry chuckled.

"That's not exactly an incorrect observation to make," Snape conceded, "however I think you'll find him equally perplexed with how to handle your newfound situation."

"So what will I be doing at Hogwarts?"

Snape considered the question, "As I agreed… I think it was yesterday… we'll wait to discuss that once you're feeling better. I think now, if you have no other questions, you should try to get some rest."

As if the mere suggestion triggered the Gryffindor's exhaustion, Harry let out a big yawn. They still had a long day ahead of them and the sun would be rising far too soon. He felt better though, lighter than he could remember being. The nightmare may have been a culmination of every horrible experience he could imagine, but like so many other things, it birthed a new appreciation for what had been sitting in front of him. From their talk - combined with the promise of getting help to work through his anxiety over his cancer - Harry found he could fall asleep easily for the first time in weeks, despite his body aching and his stomach still churning from the side effects of his latest treatment.

~~~~SS~~~~

Monday 18th, August 1997

Both Severus and Harry spent almost all of Sunday in bed - or at least resting - catching up on the sleep they missed from their middle of the night conversation after Harry's nightmare, and dealing with the side effects of the young wizard's chemotherapy. By Monday morning, the professor found himself in a much better frame of mind for what was on his agenda for the day: go back to the hospital to get Harry's medication refilled, schedule an appointment for Harry with the mind doctor, and come to a conclusion on how to handle Harry's magical training. To prepare for the last conversation, Severus woke up in the early hours of the morning to familiarize himself with what lessons could look like for the Gryffindor if he were adamant on choosing to try to retrain his magic. In the professor's mind, they were in a no win situation; either they go with Harry's choice of retraining or Albus's option of placing this questionably legal magical block in his core. And while neither was without its own set of risks, the magical block - at least as far Severus had researched - was not fatal. Ultimately, he'd leave the decision up to Harry, which was why he decided to prepare for how to go about the magical training, anticipating this being the decision the young wizard would make.

Sitting in the same armchair he'd been in during Lucius's visit the other night - and already on his second cup of coffee of the day - Severus had managed to get a good start on a tentative class schedule for the Gryffindor when he heard the creak of the staircase, followed by Harry's telltale soft steps as he made his way down the short corridor. The professor drew his wand and levitated the plate of scrambled eggs, fruit, and yoghurt he prepared for the Gryffindor along with a glass of water and his morning medications, dropping them down nicely on the table in between the armchair and the sofa.

"Morning," Harry rubbed his tired eyes and paused when he saw the new location of his breakfast. "What's going on?"

"I thought you could use a change of scenery this morning."

Harry cautiously looked around the room, and Severus followed his vision. The window in the sitting room - located behind the sofa - faced the front of the house and showed the empty street outside. A soft rain had started sometime around five in the morning and based on the dark grey, overcast clouds, didn't appear to be letting up anytime soon. Severus didn't mind, but he knew Harry had likely been hoping to go for his usual morning run.

"Guess I'm staying inside today," the Gryffindor commented, and finally sat down on the sofa. "Not that I really want to risk going out. With my luck, I'll end up sick for the first time in a while right before the wedding."

"That's fair," Severus casually answered. "If this wedding means as much to you as you claim, it's best not to make any unnecessary trips."

"I know you don't understand, but it does mean a lot to me," Harry retorted, after taking his tablets two at a time. "So what did you want to talk about? I can only assume that's why we're in here instead of the kitchen."

"As I said-"

"Yeah, I got it."

It couldn't be anymore obvious they were nervous after their conversation regarding Harry's nightmare, in addition to the one they both knew they were about to start. Severus watched Harry push his breakfast across his plate, mixing the sliced strawberries and blueberries with the vanilla yoghurt before taking a bite. Satisfied, he went back to working on Harry's potential schedule for next year, knowing he should have been working on his own curriculum; an endeavor far past its due date.

"How has your sketching been lately?" The professor asked. "I haven't seen you with your notebook nearly as much as I'm used to."

"Oh, erm…" Harry took a large sip of his water, "it's been… difficult lately."

The honest answer took all of Severus's willpower not to react to, and the trust Harry placed in him by providing such an honest answer didn't go unappreciated.

"Difficult, how? Is it no longer enjoyable?"

"No, it's not that," the young wizard shook his head causing his messy black hair to sway, "I'm just not as focused lately. I have a lot of things started, but just can't seem to finish them."

"You've had a lot on your mind as of late," Severus offered, "not to mention the changes in your life. I'll be going to the hospital later to see Dr Swanson for a refill of your prescriptions, and I'll speak with her about how to schedule an appointment with Dr Snyder. Hopefully that will help ease some of your anxieties."

"Thank you, Severus," Harry responded, "for staying on top of all of this stuff too… like my prescriptions… I don't think I could remember half the things you do."

"You needn't thank me. I have no doubt you'd handle it just fine if you were required to," he waved off the gratitude as he always did, but something on Harry's face told him the young wizard needed the acknowledgement this time. Harry had struggled with his memory near the end of last year and over the summer hadn't seen any improvement. "But you are welcome. I meant it when I said you'll have a home here with me, always remember that. You are not alone."

A companionable silence fell over the pair of wizards as the first ice broke between them. Harry nibbled his breakfast more than Severus would have preferred, however he was eating and therefore the professor did not comment on it.

"Did I hear you're going to work for the Malfoys?" Harry asked a bit disgruntled and confused. "I thought we were going back to Hogwarts in September?"

"You're right on both accounts, actually," Severus answered, not exactly ready for this conversation, yet not about to shy away from it either, "I'll be helping to find ways to better identify, diagnose, and treat muggle diseases in the Wizarding community. It's something I wanted to do back there and after seeing you struggle in St Mungo's to get the collaborative care you needed, I thought it worth my time to do what I can to help bridge the gap.

"It's not just cancer, though obviously it's where my first interests lie, that mystifies the wizarding world. Think of the possibilities to combine our levels of medications. What I would have given to be able to utilize your muggle pain medication when my Mark burned last year."

In his final attempt to create the modified burn salve, Severus had been able to find a derivative of morphine that worked well in the already present salve. If he'd had enough time and resources at his disposal, he could have done so much more with it; perfected it to give his followers a way out. Perhaps he could have enticed those - such as Lucius, Yaxley, and Dolohov - away without fear of retribution, without having to worry about forever having the link between servant and master. How different could things have been if they'd been able to cut out Voldemort's reign right out from underneath him. Sure, he would have found more followers - and had those who would never shy away like the Lestranges and Carrows - but the quality of Death Eaters wouldn't be the same.

"I think it's a great idea," Harry supportively said. "If you could help one witch or wizard not have to go through this, it'll be worth it. They're lucky to have you."

Uncomfortable once again with the gratitude, the professor released a cleansing breath, "I'll only be at the laboratory occasionally on the weekends since I will still be teaching Defense this year, and you will be coming back to the castle with me."

"So then are you working on your curriculum for next year?" Harry asked after a long silence.

"Not exactly," The professor began and stared at Harry for a moment, contemplating if this were the right time to bring up the decision on his raw magic. "You vehemently announced your desire to retrain your magic as the means of controlling it. Therefore I'm working on a potential schedule for you. That is, unless you've changed your mind?"

Severus tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible in his reply so as not to pass judgement on his potential disagreement with Harry's decision. He refused to make this a power struggle as he could clearly - in hindsight - see it had been his downfall in his old reality. And so the die had been casted and now it fell into Harry's court to pick up and continue.

"No, I haven't," the Gryffindor shook his head, "I'm not doing that… whatever it was… it's just too close to what I saw Draco do. I can't."

"May I have a chance to explain my thoughts on the subject?" Harry's emerald eyes became filled with shock at the logical, respectable sounding request and the professor found himself more than a little surprised when the young wizard nodded his head. "I need to know that you've thought this through from all angles rather than simply making a decision of this importance based on an emotional-" Severus held up his hand to stop Harry's anticipated argument, "- however rightly so, it's still emotional nonetheless - reaction to events you've seen. The ritual will need a blood sample to run, but it's no more than you get before chemotherapy and if it would help, I can ask Alton to pull it from your port the morning it is needed."

The idea had come to him only in that moment, and while they would want as few people to know about the ritual as possible, if it helped Harry feel more comfortable the risk would be worth taking. He wouldn't be lucky enough for Alton to do it with no questions asked, but hopefully the healer would understand their need to do it.

"It helps," Harry grudgingly admitted, "but I still don't want to. The blood is only part of the issue. Mostly it's because this is something Voldemort would do - he did do - messing with old dark magic to save himself, and I refuse to pull myself down to his level, especially if there's another, equally viable option. If I make this concession now, what's next?"

Severus didn't agree with the extrapolation, nevertheless, the argument was far more sound and thought out than he'd initially given the young wizard credit for. It demonstrated the fundamental core difference between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. Harry would put his life on the line to maintain his righteous separation of what was right and wrong. In the end, arguing about life being filled with calculated risks, or not being black and white, would only further ostracize the teen; putting them in the same situation they'd been in at the crossroads of his old reality. The Slytherin way to handle it would be giving himself the opportunity to change Harry's mind later and he could only achieve that one way.

"I understand," he conceded, causing Harry's head to snap up, "and I think we can come to an agreement which will work for the both of us. I won't hold you back from starting to retrain your magic, if you'll allow Alton a weekly magical checkup. And should we find the raw magic has not ceased its attack on you, then you will agree to the magical block."

He could see Harry's mind working through what he'd been told. The decision would ultimately be the Gryffindor's, but there was little the teen could actually do to influence the outcome. Retraining would either work or it would not, and he would only benefit from having a contingency plan ready.

"I don't understand," Harry leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "it's my magic I'm gambling at the end of all this, and it's my life at risk, so why can't I make the decision without any strings attached."

"Because you're forgetting that to risk your life unnecessarily is selfish to those around you who would be devastated should you die… especially if there was a safer alternative available."

Harry's jaw clenched as he considered the words spoken to him. The concept - even after considering his friends, cousin, and the Weasleys - of someone grieving for him was foreign for Harry and, unfortunately, Severus could relate from his own experience. Until Harry became his son, he'd never had the feeling of someone legitimately caring if he lived or died. Now, things in his life had changed so much he couldn't imagine it any other way.

"Ok," the young wizard gave in, "I can agree to check in and change tactics if the retraining isn't working."

"As I see fit," Severus added.

"As you see fit," Harry repeated. "So then what does this new training look like for me?"

Severus narrowed his eyes at the teen across from him, amazed at how young seventeen actually appeared. Why did the wizarding world think children this young could make life altering decisions alone?

"For one," he began to explain as he ran his hand across his forehead in an effort to prevent an early migraine, "I'm proposing to include you in the general classes. Obviously, you'll have to start at a lower level given your magic is completely untrained. The goal is not to get you to the level of a fully functional wizard yet, rather to give your magic enough organization to ease the accidental outbursts. Needless to say, there's not exactly a precedent set for these types of situations."

"Soooo, is there a chance I won't be a firstie again?"

"No, I don't think you need to go all the way back to the beginning," the professor explained. "We'll do an aptitude test next week when we return to the school, but I anticipate your magic picking up the first year spells rather quickly… at least in the courses you naturally excelled at."

Harry beamed at the compliment. Had anyone overheard Severus Snape saying that sentence two years ago - in this reality - not a soul would have believed it. Of course, there were some who still wouldn't believe it, however only Harry had to and his bright green eyes told him the young wizard was finally feeling secure in their newfound relationship.

"Will I get to go back to the Tower?"

"Now you're pushing your luck," Severus gave a chuckle as he said it, and when Harry didn't retract the question, he added, "if it means that much, I can add it as a discussion point with Dr Swanson today."

"As a matter of fact," Harry boldly said, while sitting upright more confidently, "it does mean that much to me. If I get to go to classes with everyone and get to eat in the Great Hall, I don't see why I can't live in the Tower. At least when it's not around my treatments."

"Let me see what your physician's professional opinion is first."

"Maybe you can teach Neville the sanitizing charm?" Harry lightly suggested, practically ignoring the professor's previous statement. "Then he could at least clean our dorm out before I sleep in there."

Severus gave a skeptical expression, "If anyone, I'd look to Mr Thomas for that duty."

Harry smiled, assuming he'd won the battle, and as long as Dr Swanson gave the go-ahead, Severus would allow it. He simply didn't want to get Harry's hopes up only to have them crushed; he'd had too much negativity in his life lately for that.

"Would you like you to join me at the hospital today?" Severus inquired.

"Nah," Harry answered, "I already hate going there once a month. That's enough for me. And besides, I think I'm going to self-quarantine this week… in preparation for the wedding… just in case."

"Speaking of," the former spy transitioned, pulling out a pamphlet he'd received from Molly Weasley when he gave their tentative répondez s'il vous plaît the other week and handed it to Harry. "I've made arrangements for us to stay Friday and Saturday night in the same hotel the Weasleys and Miss Granger will be staying. Each morning starting Wednesday until Saturday, I'll be running a diagnostic spell to be sure you are not coming down with something, and then another Thursday and Friday night. Assuming all of those are acceptable, you'll be permitted to attend."

He watched Harry look over the information for the Le Moulin de l'Abbaye, a magical hotel in Brantôme, France, situated on a beautiful winding river with impressive views of Brantôme. If Severus wasn't so nervous about Harry's health in attending the wedding, he would be exceptionally excited to be able to visit that area of France.

"Really?" Harry exclaimed, his eyes lighting up, "I just assumed we would apparate there Saturday afternoon and back Saturday night."

"I don't exactly feel comfortable side along apparating you to a location this far away that I have not previously been to, therefore we will be taking a prearranged portkey there and back," Severus told the Gryffindor, who nodded his agreement, "and somehow Molly managed to convince me being there the Friday beforehand was considered as important as the wedding, though I must admit, I feel it had more to do with keeping the youngest Mr Weasley occupied."

Of course, it didn't exactly happen as he'd explained it to Harry, but he wouldn't tell the young wizard. The fact that this small hotel was magical and close to a magical hospital with a muggle trained physician - a friend of Alton's who had volunteered to step in should anything happen with Harry - wasn't exactly something he wanted to advertise. Or that when Molly asked if they'd be staying close to the wedding and he explained his logic for choosing this particular hotel, on the other side of France, she graciously moved her own reservations to be with them.

Harry laughed. "That sounds about right. But you said Hermione's going to be there? I thought she'd be staying in Reims with Draco. She's meeting his parents… well, today I think."

Severus's eyebrows sprang up to his forehead faster than he could remember to contain his reaction. Lucius hadn't mentioned meeting Draco's girlfriend only two days after their meeting. Outside of that intriguing train of thought, Severus was brought to another more immediate concern.

"How does that make you feel?" He asked the young wizard. "After everything you all have been through?"

"As long as he treats her well…" Harry shrugged as he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, even though it had been his own change of topic. With Severus refusing to fill in the awkward silence, Harry gave in and continued, "I have enough going on in my life right now, but sometimes I feel like I'm missing out on things normal seventeen year olds should be doing. Like… I dunno, going on awkward dates, though technically I can check that one off my bucket list."

"Oh?" Severus commented before he could stop himself.

"Cho Chang, fifth year," Harry sheepishly relied, "and let's just say I don't see what the big deal is about dating, but at the same time I wish I could. Does that make sense?"

"Unfortunately," the professor answered, causing Harry to start to laugh yet again.

"Did I date anyone back where… y'know?" Harry turned too serious too quickly for Severus's liking.

"You attended the Yule Ball with Miss Chang," Severus remembered. His face uncharacteristically flushed at the memory of Harry getting caught with the Ravenclaw by Minerva, "and you may have had one or two… incidents with the young lady."

This time, Harry's cheeks were the ones to flush a deep, dark red. "Did I-"

"I don't know," Severus interrupted him, saving them both from what was bound to be an unpleasant conversation.

"You know what," Harry said, standing with his only half empty plate, "let's just pretend I didn't ask that and didn't mention anything about dating."

Without another word, or giving Severus a chance to reply, Harry abruptly left the room for the kitchen where Severus could easily hear the young wizard laughing alongside the water from the kitchen tap while he washed his breakfast dishes.

When Harry had said he had spent far too much time at the hospital to want to join Severus on his meeting with Dr Swanson, he'd been exaggerating. All of Harry's treatments were being done at the chemotherapy center, meaning neither of them had stepped foot into the muggle Surrey hospital since Harry had his port placed last summer. Walking into the sterile environment triggered all five of Severus's senses and his body became flooded with dread and grief. The smell reminded him of walking the young wizard over to the lift - where Harry has gotten his first view of a collaborative muggle-magical practice. The echoing of his footsteps across the atrium brought him back to the slow strides they'd made down to the cafeteria for a bite of lunch while waiting on Harry's bone marrow biopsy results; he could almost taste the sandwich he had that afternoon contemplating how he could get Harry's young mind off what Severus already knew was coming. And finally, the bustling of every physician, nurse, and patient, reminded him how far they still had to go in this process; how any moment the floor could be dropped from beneath them and life as they knew it could once again change.

As a full muggle physician, Dr Swanson's office did not require any magical signature to identify him as a wizard, like Alton's office did. Although located in the Oncology wing, as opposed to pediatrics where they went to see Alton, the office had a lot of the same feel to it as the healer's with its bright yellow walls, covered with letters, numbers, and cartoon characters Severus didn't recognize, and a variety of vinyl chairs sized for both adults and children. Unlike Alton's office, though, there were large portraits around the room depicting children in various stages of their treatment; some were in a hospital room, others in a clinic setting, but all of them without hair and showing off the many IV lines required to battle against whichever cancer plagued their small bodies. And most prominently placed in the room, right besides the check-in window where the professor had gone to announce his arrival, was a cork board filled with photographs of what Severus assumed were Dr Swanson's patients. Dozens of pictures of children of all ages showed off a more realistic view of life as a pediatric oncology patient. Many included Dr Swanson, in an isolation gown and mask checking on her hospitalized patients, in her typical skirt and blouse during an office visit, and even a few in casual clothing visiting with a patient in their home.

As a late adolescent, Harry's treatment would straddle the line between being considered a pediatric patient and an adult one. Given that he started his treatment as a pediatric patient, they opted to keep his care consistent and finish it out with Dr Swanson. Eventually, though, he'd need to find an adult oncologist for his years of follow-up testing, to ensure if the cancer does come back, they find out as quickly as possible. It was a task that could be put off until closer to the end of maintenance, and the former spy found himself grieving over the thought of leaving the muggle doctor's practice for someone new; someone who wouldn't know Harry, his story, and what the young adult had been through. They hadn't gotten much choice in selecting Dr Swanson, however things had been going well and any possible change terrified him that it would break whatever balance they'd managed to get to. Of course, perhaps by then, the Malfoys would have made enough progress in their muggle-wizarding facility and the Gryffindor could go to a Healer for the rest of his care, it would be the ideal scenario, after all.

Fittingly, Severus chose a plain red, adult-sized chair to sit in while he waited for Dr Swanson's arrival. When he checked in at the front window, the receptionist explained the physician would be back shortly, after finishing her rounds in the hospital. And so the professor sat in the back of the office waiting room, subtly watching the people around him, intimately aware of just how out of place he looked in his customary muggle attire of a long sleeved buttoned down black shirt and black trousers in the otherwise bright room. His mind focused on the preparations he needed to complete before presenting the alternative curriculum to Albus, and came to the decision to a stop by Alton's office for an extra set of eyes on the document while at the hospital, and he completely missed the person calling out to him by the wrong name.

"Mr Potter?" Severus was finally brought back to the room in front of him by the hand touching his shoulder. Standing in front of him, wearing a set of light yellow scrubs with small pink teddy bears, was Mae; the nurse from the chemotherapy center. "Is everything alright?"

"My apologies," the professor stated, ignoring her cheeks flushing from the formality, yet again choosing not to correct the wrong surname, "I'm waiting on Dr Swanson's return and was lost in my thoughts."

"She should be back any second," the nurse turned towards the door leading to the corridor, presumably where she'd just come from before sitting into the blue chair beside Severus's red one. "Is it anything I can help you with?"

"Do you even work here?" Severus accused, not at all caring how it portrayed him.

However, instead of being insulted - which wouldn't have been the worst reaction - she gave a small laugh and countered with, "You caught me, I like to pop my head into random offices just to see who I can mess with."

Unamused, Severus didn't validate her heckling with a response.

"Of course, I work here," she continued more seriously this time, her dark brown eyes - contrasting her bright blonde hair - watched him carefully, "and I work in the clinic on some weekends. I live a busy life, y'know."

"Obviously."

"So is it something I can help with?" Mae asked again. "Instead of Dr Swanson?"

Her persistence was exhausting to the professor's already tired mind, so rather than snap back as he normally would have, he replied, "It's something I need to discuss with Dr Swanson, and her alone."

"Severus," As if on cue, Harry's doctor walked into the office with her arms filled with wayward files and loose leaf paper, "I'm running a bit behind today. Mae, can you please take Mr Snape to my office, and I'll be right there."

Internally, Severus cringed at the use of his actual name. He had no rational reason to care if this nurse knew it or not, but old habits die hard and as she led him through the corridor to a large office at the end, she turned and asked, "So Mr Snape, huh?"

"You assumed Harry and I shared the same surname," he replied, walking past her to stand on the other side of the threshold to the doctor's office, "I simply did not correct you."

"Very interesting," Mae smirked, her eyes narrowed at him, as she pulled out a small notepad and a pen. Without any further explanation, she proceeded to write something quickly on the top sheet, tore the paper out, folded it, and then handed it to him. "I'm sure there's an interesting story there too, Severus Snape, and I'd love to hear it sometime."

As she sauntered away, Severus opened the small paper he held in his hand. Staring back at him written in a very feminine handwriting was a series of digits the former spy recognized as a phone number - Mae's phone number if he were to take a guess.

"Someone seems to be pretty popular around my office," Dr Swanson announced her arrival and gestured for Severus to take a seat across from her desk made of a rich dark cherry. It held a half a dozen picture frames of the doctor with her husband and two boys; in one they were camping, another from her wedding, and then the older of the two boys playing football for his school team. Behind the desk a large picture window, with long ivory curtains framing it, overlooked the small pond on the backside of the hospital, where Severus could see the rain hitting the surface of the water. The banks of the pond were lined with planted trees - all at an even distance - with colorful flowers between them, and a paved walking path went around the perimeter. He could imagine, on nicer days than today, families visiting their sick relatives exiting the back doors of the hospital to take a walk around the pond in an effort to regain their composure.

The office itself was bright and airy, painted a soft green with half wall bookcases - in the same dark cherry wood as her desk - on the walls to the left and right of the door. On the wall above the bookcases to Severus's right displayed all of Dr Swanson's many diplomas and certificates of achievement in her area of expertise - pediatric oncology - making him feel Harry was in more than capable hands to navigate him through this disease. How many other parents had sat in the same chair, looking about the room desperate to find some indication things would be alright for their child? If Dr Swanson had set up the office to help calm nervous parents' and children's fears, she succeeded.

Severus shook his head, and without thinking placed the small piece of paper into the front pocket of his trousers, instead of the rubbish bin, though he had no intentions on ever calling the number.

"So what was it you wanted to discuss?" She asked, clearing herself a space on her desk for her hands, "Is everything alright with Harry?"

"More or less," Severus honestly answered, deciding to start with the more complicated issue, "he'll be returning to school and has asked to go back to staying in the dormitories."

A warm smile crossed Dr Swanson's face, "And you're worried about him."

She said it as a statement, not a question, and it didn't go unnoticed by Severus.

"Shouldn't I be?"

The oncologist gave him a hard stare and then shuffled through a set of folders on her desk, pulling a moderately sized one from the pile; presumably Harry's, readily available because he had chemotherapy only two days ago. The professor watched her eyes scan through the pages as she flipped them, every-so-often pausing over a part of the document.

"It's natural to worry, Severus," she reassured him, "and while past behavior isn't necessarily an indication of future health, nothing in Harry's results show he's at a high risk for relapse or infection. Keep in mind these tests are taken before chemotherapy, where his white blood cells do decline, so keeping him more secluded than a dormitory for a couple of days after his treatments would be preferred, but overall he's been rebounding without any issues."

"So then, he's alright to go back to the dormitories?" Severus confirmed. "He can certainly go back to staying with me after his monthly treatments, that won't be an issue. He'll be far more comfortable there anyways."

"Anything can change at any moment," the physician carefully said to him, and he knew she couldn't professionally state that there wasn't a risk involved, "but you do a good job at keeping him safe and I know you have your means to continue to do so."

As always, he brushed off her compliment, "We get by."

"I'm serious," she continued, "it's important you hear that you're doing good with him. And not just with his physical health, he's come a long way from the malnourished sixteen year old I first met."

Again, Severus didn't answer.

"Have you called Dr Snyder?"

"Not yet," Severus answered, "I wanted to ask if there is anything specific I need to-"

"Let me reach out to him on your behalf, and get something scheduled," she made a note in Harry's file laying open on her desk which Severus couldn't read from his vantage point. "Does a specific day or time work best?"

"Anytime after Sunday," he answered. "Thank you."

After getting Harry's prescriptions refilled and bidding Dr Swanson - and her office - goodbye, Severus's next stop for the day was to go over to Alton's side of the hospital to get his friend's opinion of Harry's magical retraining courses. Although Albus wouldn't require the healer's approval to get the custom curriculum through the Board of Governors, as the medical professional overseeing Harry's Magical Health, his word would go a long way in securing the right signatures.

This time, as Severus placed his hand over the lift button to read his magical signature - and alert Alton's office to an incoming wizard - Severus was brought back to the day of Harry's diagnosis, back when the Gryffindor didn't trust him and yet allowed his hated Potions Professor to walk him into the hospital, then stay with him during those first awful test, and finally when he received the news no one wanted to hear. To Severus, who practically lived through that day twice, coming back to the same office was almost numbing. If asked, he would never be able to explain how he managed to walk from the lift into the healer's office without crumbling to the floor.

"You look tired, Severus," Alton said, handing the professor a cup of black coffee in his office before taking his seat on the other side of the desk. He then picked up the sheets of parchment Severus brought and added, "Of course, if you've gotten all of this done in only four days, you probably haven't been sleeping."

Why did it seem everyone suddenly cared about his own habits lately? Never had anyone paid so much attention to his schedule or how he chose to live his life.

"I didn't come for a lecture," the professor aggressively answered, "I need to get this off to Albus and your endorsement would certainly make things easier."

"Why does it need to be approved by the Board of Governors?" Alton questioned. "This doesn't need to be school sanctioned since he's technically not taking classes in an official capacity."

Severus agreed, however he wasn't about to get into a debate over the politics of it all. "As we'll be utilizing school resources, their approval is mandatory."

For the second time in as many hours, Severus watched the person across from him scan through the files before him or her.

"In my professional opinion," Alton started, giving Severus a bit of relief that - at least this time - he could get an official recommendation and not have to interpret the meaning, "I don't see why he can't go back to Sixth level Potions and Herbology. He's done most of the work for those classes and they require minimal magical use. At least let him stay caught up there.

"Defense will require heavy use of magic, however from his files-" Alton looked up, his brown eyes meeting the professor's black, "-his real files this time, it's his strongest subject so you should put most of his focus there. I'd expect the raw magic to organize relatively easily making it the biggest gain. On the other side, I'd go light on Transfiguration. Being his least confident course, it'll take a lot of magic with little organizational return. Charms is somewhere in the middle. The benefit there is that those are spells that could help him once he can go back to unrestricted magical use."

Severus nodded his head in agreement. So far, it wasn't anything he hadn't already considered. "How long do you suspect it will take until the magic isn't considered raw any longer?"

"There's no way to tell that, Severus," the healer passed the parchment - with his notes added - back across the desk, "Harry had an incident of pretty extreme accidental magic as a thirteen year old, and that was only with a fraction of his core available."

"He had been under extreme distress at the time," the professor countered, thinking back to the news of Harry blowing up his Aunt Marge, something which obviously didn't happen in his old reality.

"Dare I say he's under an equal amount of stress during his treatments each month," Alton challenged. "All I'm saying is, best case scenario, this organization could be something that comes naturally to his magic and we see the events stop early on and he can cease magical training. Worst case, he had a history of strong accidental magic, and it would behoove us to prepare him for the need to continue through Maintenance."

Or until his magic is gone, sat heavily between the two wizards.

"If it doesn't stop the accidental magic, why bother continuing to train?" Severus countered, considering if he needed to push Harry into the magical block ritual instead. "Isn't that the point of all of this?"

"Understand, there's never been a case like Harry's before, so this is a lot of speculation," the healer gave a small laugh, "but the severity of the events should decrease, even if they don't fully stop during his most extreme situations. We'll keep monitoring him throughout and make adjustments where needed."

Somehow Alton sounded far more confident than Severus knew he should feel. Was that how physicians - muggle and magical alike - spoke to calm down their patient's worried parents? If so, could he place his trust in his friend to have Harry's best interest in mind? He had to. Not only was there no other option, this went above Severus's own abilities. It didn't mean he'd go into this blindly and stop searching and learning all he could about Harry's unique situations, but had to relinquish some amount of control.

"What about where to start him?" The professor asked. "Would it make sense to do a placement test or start him in first year for all courses outside of Potions and Herbology?"

"I can test him next week," the brown-haired wizard answered. "It will give us a good idea of where he's starting and if he really needs to relearn everything or if there are areas where a refresher will do."

Ultimately, that was the best Severus could ask for and exactly what he'd expected when coming to his friend's office. The two wizards spent the rest of his visit talking about how Sarah and Mary were recovering from their own ordeal, and the exciting start to Mary's own accidental magic this summer; to which Alton commented on Severus becoming her professor someday. It wouldn't happen though. He already knew once Harry had moved on from the school, he'd also move on to different - probably better, as he hated teaching - things that did not constantly remind him of Voldemort... the whole reason he became a professor in the first place.