~~~~SS~~~~

Slamming open Albus's door had never felt so good to Severus, though he suspected the headmaster had already been expecting his arrival, as the eldest wizard hardly flinched when the wooden door hit the back of the wall, taking down the element of surprise. Draco was seated in the left side chair across from the esteemed desk, with Kingsley, Albus, Minerva, and Auror Williamson standing around him, the young Slytherin's hawthorn wand clasped tightly in the latter's hands.

"You were supposed to wait for me," Severus threatened, gesturing towards the wand in question.

"Calm down," Williamson taunted him. "We haven't started yet."

The former spy approached the other wizard and, not backing down, he challenged, "According to our Head Girl, you've been in possession of his wand since you illegally detained him. How do I know you haven't tampered with it?"

Standing up tall, his broad shoulders pushed back, Williamson didn't attempt to hide eyes drifting down to Severus's left forearm. Then in a voice just above a whisper he growled, "Which one of us is the Auror again?" He raised his eyebrows, challenging Severus to answer, who refused to give the man the satisfaction. A smirk rivalling Lucius's crossed Williamson's face as he said, "That's right, it's me."

"Severus," Minerva's stern voice brought him back to the room around him, "I was within view of Mr Malfoy's wand the entire time it was in Auror Williamson's possession. I can confirm nothing nefarious happened to it."

He narrowed his eyes at Williamson, "And practically arresting him?"

"We have that right, Severus," Kingsley spoke up. "Though I will make sure going forward, it's not nearly as harsh as tonight."

"We do appreciate that," Albus said, stepping out from the shadows of the office and sauntering in front of Draco. "Shall we continue, gentlemen?"

"Of course, Albus," Kingsley responded. He pulled out a book of red parchment, which would allow him to record their findings simultaneously creating a certified copy directly to the auror's office at the DMLE. That second copy, found on yellowed parchment, would then be the official document and completely tamper resistant. "Auror Williamson will cast the Priori Incantato and I will record the spells on this parchment. Once I reach twelve, the number randomly selected for tonight's check-in, he'll cast the counter charm. Only those twelve spells will be under review for the inspection. At this point, I'll have Albus and Severus sign as witnesses for Mr Malfoy, and Mark will sign as the witness for the DMLE.

"Once we all sign this document, it's binding, so should you disagree with anything I've written, speak up because you will not get a chance to disagree later. Only after all of the signatures are obtained will Mr Malfoy be able to take possession of his wand. Any questions?"

"What if we can't tell what the prior spell is from the echo?" Severus asked in an attempt to prevent any issues during the process.

"Great question," Kingsley said, turning to Draco. "You cannot speak or try to explain any of the spells that we may see. The only exception is if we can't collectively decide what the spell is. I, and I alone, will be the one to ask you to tell us what it is. You can answer with the title of the spell, like fire-making, or the incantation, incendio, but nothing else. No explanation, or reasoning. Trust me, that's in your best interest."

Impressed with the answer, and satisfied that Draco's rights were being maintained, Severus nodded his agreement to the group.

As he'd been instructed, Draco stayed silent while the two aurors pulled the last twelve spells from his wand. With each spell they saw, Kingsley recorded it on the official record, and luckily they were all relatively easy to distinguish: a drying spell, two aguamentis, three levitation charms - all consistent with spells used when studying in the library - and then an accio, a hot air charm commonly used after showering, Colloportus and a ward specific to his dorm room door, Nox, and Lumos. Auror Williamson casted Deletrius right after the twelfth one, ending the reversal spell and surprising Severus with his integrity not to try and draw it out further - though he had been in Gryffindor, not Slytherin, so perhaps it made more sense than Severus original thought.

"Can you verify everything on here looks correct?" Kingsley requested, handing the parchment to Albus who walked over towards Severus so they could review it together.

Although the former spy had no qualms with the head auror, he made sure to review the document carefully; checking the accuracy of every character written before reluctantly signing his name at the bottom.

"Do I get my wand back now?" Draco asked, speaking up for the first time since Severus arrived in the office, causing conflict within the professor about the pride he felt. With his wand back in his possession, the blonde wizard rolled it between his hands - as if verifying its authenticity - and said, "I take it I'm done?"

"Yes," Kingsley answered, "although, I'd like to remind you these visits will continue throughout the year at a random frequency and time of day."

An official auror statement if he'd ever heard one. Draco stood to leave and Severus had every intention of joining him until Albus called him back.

"Severus," the headmaster's smooth voice rang through the office, "I need you and Auror Shacklebolt to stay for a minute. Minerva, if you'd so kindly see Auror Williamson out, I would be most appreciative."

Hesitantly, the former spy sat down in the seat Draco vacated.

"I can see myself out, headmaster," the auror answered. Minerva pursed her lips, but nodded, while watching Draco. Severus released a small sigh - she'd make sure his student got back to his dorm without any run-ins with the man. Turning to Kingsley, Williamson said, "I'll head back and start processing the report."

"Thank you, Williamson," the other auror replied. "I'll be back at the office shortly."

When Minerva, Draco, and Williamson left, Albus casually walked around to his desk and sat down in his large - far too stuffed for Severus's liking - chair and Kingsley took the other chair beside the younger professor.

"I don't like this," Severus grumbled, his arms folded defiantly across his chest. "He cannot come into this school and literally drag out an innocent student."

"I'll remind him for these visits that Mr Malfoy is assumed innocent until proven guilty," Kingsley reasoned. "However, these do need to be taken seriously. Any infraction on Mr Malfoy's part will get him arrested, no questions asked. I know you don't like Williamson, but he's the best man on the force right now. He may not like the Malfoys' lean sentence, but he'll be fair, so long as there's nothing to hide."

"We understand," Albus jumped in. "Now, can we move onto bigger, though not necessarily more important, issues at hand?"

"Certainly," Severus agreed, ready to put this night behind him and get back to his quarters. "Am I to assume there's been an update on our favorite terror organization?"

"Unfortunately, so," Albus began. His blue eyes dulled behind his half-moon spectacles, showing his pain in having to report this. "There's been another attack. This time in Godric's Hollow."

Severus tightly closed his eyes as he thought back to the visit he and Harry took to the young wizard's birthplace only three months ago.

"How can we be sure it's Death Eaters?"

This time, Kingsley spoke, "It followed the same pattern as the Diagon Alley attack. Arson to the buildings, followed by a magical explosion. I'm sure the details will be in the Prophet tomorrow morning, though I did ask them to give us a couple of days to process the scene before releasing any information. We'll see if they comply."

"And we're certain Talpin and Ash couldn't somehow be behind this?"

He knew the answer, but had to ask to be sure because the implication was far too damaging. He'd hoped the two Death Eaters were acting alone - as evident from their mediocre attack on Diagon Alley - however two attacks so closely linked would point to an organized group. To make matters worse, Harry had been at the wizarding marketplace the day of the attack and now his birthplace had been targeted, which did not bode well for the child's safety.

"They were tried two days ago and sentenced to ten years in Azkaban each," the auror replied, insulted. "We pulled their memories at the time of arrest, and again at their trial, and weren't able to find any connections to more recent Death Eater activity. We'll keep trying though."

"If you keep digging like that, you're going to make them insane," Severus warned; images of the Longbottoms flooded his vision.

No one responded about how that wouldn't exactly be the worst thing in the world.

"What's their angle?" The Slytherin challenged. "If there are Death Eaters trying to reorganize, which I still believe is close to impossible with the crew I know to be in Azkaban, why? Voldemort wanted to overpower the muggles, yet there are two attacks on the magical community. It doesn't make sense."

"Most acts of terrorism don't make sense," Kingsley responded, sadly. "We may never know, and definitely not until we catch those responsible for this new incident."

Focusing back to Albus, the professor urgently asked, "What does this mean for Harry? I'm guessing you think he's a target?"

"It's still too early to say, Severus," the headmaster explained. "I don't want to add any undue stress to the boy, so I'll trust your discretion on the matter. Should we find more concrete evidence of him being in danger, we'll notify you immediately. In the meantime, should you hear anything, please do bring it to our attention."

It went without saying, but he nodded his agreement for good measure. He wouldn't lie to Harry, but given how much the young wizard struggled this summer, he refused to add to the burden already upon him for a suspected and unsubstantiated claim. It would be a conversation he'd have with caution and care, adjusting based on how Harry reacted to the news.

The three wizards spent the next hour going over the sparse information they learned from Ash and Talpin's memories, and Severus updated the other two - at a very high level - on the shipping manifest from Lucius, as well as Harry's condition; both in regards to his illness and magic. He could tell Albus had his own doubts over the magical training being successful, and while Severus didn't disagree, he also wanted to support Harry however he could.

"Before you go, Severus," Kingsley called out to him, after the former spy bid the wizards farewell and was down the spiral staircase headed back to his quarters having already stayed longer than he'd wanted. Without speaking a word, Severus raised his eyebrows for the auror to continue. "I found something interesting when processing the images from Harry's memory of the Diagon Alley attack."

That certainly piqued the former spy's interest. "Do tell," he prompted when the other man finally caught up to his place in the corridor.

"Draco couldn't be found in any of them."

He didn't react; Kingsley would be looking for how he took the news.

"Perhaps Harry didn't recognize him there?" the professor suggested, "or simply didn't get a good look around with everything else going on."

"It doesn't work that way, Severus, and you know it."

"Dammit, Kingsley," he growled. "What do you expect? You had to have missed something because he was there!"

The auror he respected more than anyone else in the entire DMLE - the whole ministry, if he were honest - sighed almost defeatedly.

"If I were you," he nodded his head at Severus seriously, "I'd try to get some answers from the young Mr Malfoy. It could help to quickly clear up the situation."

Severus chose to take the longer path down to his quarters in an effort to start processing the information he'd learned. Draco seeing more of these visits definitely would be expected, although he hoped they'd be far less aggressive - on his end as well - going forward, but it was the information he received from Kingsley that concerned him the most. The attack in Godric's Hollow, plus the sentencing of Ash and Talpin, couldn't be anything good, especially with Harry having chemotherapy on Saturday, an event scheduled in advance on a very regular cadence. Anyone who read the Prophet knew about Harry's cancer, and while it may take a Death Eater some searching, eventually they'd find the chemotherapy center and his schedule.

Thinking about Harry brought the professor back to their pseudo-argument before Hermione's arrival. Being half past eleven at night, and past curfew, meant Harry would be back up in the Tower, hopefully back asleep not putting any extra thought into what happened over dinner. The Gryffindor's magical testing had been positive and he shouldn't have said otherwise.

Opening the door to his quarters Severus hung his teaching robes up on the coat rack behind the door without a second thought at the lanterns dimly lit around the room. Fully prepared to pour himself a glass of Firewhiskey to help calm his mind and relax in front of the fire, he smiled when he entered the sitting room. Laying across the sofa, in the same manner he always did when he fell asleep, was Harry. Though still dressed in his jeans and Gryffindor jumper, he looked so peaceful laying on his back with his right arm draped over his forehead - pushing his glasses down his nose - and his left arm extended, hanging off the side.

Harry stayed and tried to wait up for him. Swallowing back the rise of emotions - not prepared to deal with them that night - Severus drew his wand and summoned Harry's red blanket he kept in his bedroom down there. As he placed it over the young wizard, he noticed how exhausted he looked, even while asleep. These first few weeks of school would be an adjustment with his lingering illness, but somehow Harry continued to push through it, never really dwelling on the injustice of his life, though no one would blame him if he had.

Abandoning his pre-bedtime plans, Severus carefully removed Harry's glasses and placed them on the table in front of the sofa. "I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered.

"M'sorry too," Harry mumbled, but didn't open his eyes or give any other indication he had truly awoken. They'd talk tomorrow and be fine, but not for the first time, he wished his life were just a little less complicated for the Gryffindor.

~~~~HP~~~~

Saturday 13, September 1997

In order to give Harry the most time to get through the chemotherapy side effects, Snape moved his normal mid-day appointment at the clinic to first thing in the morning. The extra couple of hours would hopefully make it so the young wizard could be back in classes Monday morning because after the positive - regardless of whatever Snape thought - results from his magical test, he wanted to continue to give his magic the best chance possible.

Normally, Harry had no issues with getting up early - he'd done it for years living with the Dursleys and three days a week now to go running with Dudley - but being up at half past five in the morning to be at his seven o'clock chemo appointment made him grumpier than usual. Given the early wake up call for a Saturday, the Gryffindor stayed the night in Snape's quarters so he didn't unnecessarily wake up any of his dormmates. Dressed in a mismatched pair of jogging bottoms and a green long sleeved buttoned pyjama top, Harry felt more self-conscious than usual. Typically, he didn't mind wearing the comfortable clothing to the clinic, and although the other patients and nurses there wouldn't mock him, he still didn't feel good about walking through the castle looking so ragged.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, he saw Snape sitting at the table with his normal cup of black coffee reading the Daily Prophet.

"I don't want to go,"declared Harry as he practically flung himself into the chair in front of his bowl of porridge.

"I could gather as much," the professor answered without giving Harry anywhere near the reaction he'd hoped for. Glancing over the top of the paper, the professor nodded his head for Harry to begin eating and asked, "Why don't you want to go today?"

Forced to think rationally about the situation, the blunt question managed to kick Harry's grumpy mood down a notch.

Eventually, he lifted his head and explained, "I've just been feeling so good lately - even better than before my diagnosis, which I now can see how sick I was then without even knowing it-" he shook his head in disbelief, "-and it seems counterproductive to make myself sick again."

That statement had managed to get Snape's full attention. He folded the paper closed and placed it down on the table where Harry could see the headline Godric's Hollow Under Attack. Yesterday, Snape explained to him what happened in Godric's Hollow. How suspected former - Harry still cringed at the words that sounded too much like defected, as in Snape's case - Death Eaters tore through the town, setting fire to anything they could on a direct path to his old home. The wards around the Potter home recorded a variety of attempts to break through them and bring the house down, ending with Fiendfyre. None of the curses made it through that night, but the picture on the front page of the Prophet showed the dozen or so homes which hadn't been as fortunate. Rationally, he knew he shouldn't blame himself, but watching the picture span down the burnt street, he did. Harry heart ached at the damage caused - and the two lives lost - from that night.

The young wizard convinced himself to peel his eyes away from the paper and back to Snape. The black ones staring back at him didn't usually hold sympathy, knowing Harry wouldn't want that kind of attention, yet that morning, they most certainly did.

"This is the exact complacency Dr Swanson warned us about," he carefully explained. "You won't continue to feel this well if you don't continue to go to these appointments."

"I know that, but it doesn't mean I have to like it," he grabbed for a banana from the bowl of fruit on the table and started cutting it up into his bowl. "Do you think they were looking for me?"

"In your condemned, abandoned home? Not at all. Your location in the school is not a secret," the professor flipped the paper over so the picture now faced the table. "If anything this was a statement, a draw for attention."

"From who?"

"Whom," Snape corrected, causing Harry to roll his eyes. "And it could be anyone. The attack on Diagon Alley had been done by lowly followers, so Occam's Razor says there are likely more of them out there. I promise you, Harry, they will not have enough support behind them to do much harm. Eventually, this will die down."

"Did it happen last time?"

The conflict in Snape's face couldn't be any more obvious, and Harry wondered if the man would choose to lie.

"No," he answered honestly. "After the first war, most of his followers who weren't arrested or killed went into hiding. Remember, it had been a different time then, we'd been in war for years already. Even the Death Eaters found relief in its ending."

Harry nodded mindlessly, understanding the words he said, but not fully able to appreciate them. Lives had been torn apart from the first war, and while his had been forever changed - for the years to come after 31st October 1981 - it wasn't in the same way. He'd been too young to really understand, on a fundamental level, what the people who fought and lived in fear had gone through.

In the silence, Snape had summoned what appeared to be work for his new lab position. A book of parchment came flying in from the other room. As Snape added his notes into the margins, taking a quiet sip of his coffee after each addition, Harry could see the pages filled with equations, ingredients, and formulas. To the Gryffindor, it looked like gibberish, but he knew Snape's love for the subject made it easy for the man to translate and lose himself in the text.

They sat in a stiff silence until Harry finished about half of his breakfast; a good amount given he would be seeing it later in the day.

"Why do you drink coffee?"

Instantly, a small flush creeped up his cheeks at the juvenile question he'd thought about each morning and had never expected to actually ask; blaming the early morning wake up call on his lack of self-control.

"Why do you drink pumpkin juice?" Snape countered.

"You just don't come across as a coffee person over tea," Harry reasoned, he couldn't exactly take the question back so he figured he should at least try to get the answer.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry and just when the Gryffindor assumed he wouldn't get one, he heard, "Outside of one's particular preference for its taste, coffee contains more caffeine than tea. At one point in my previous life, I found myself getting very little sleep and found consuming coffee, occasionally with an Invigorating Draught, helped to get through the day."

Harry felt his cheeks turn a darker shade of red, picking up on the times Snape alluded to: back when the other Harry had been dying.

"I'll just go grab my bag now," the young wizard said, anxious to get out of the memories he'd drawn up for the professor. "Are we flooing home first or apparating there?"

"We'll be apparating to the hospital and back," Snape answered, his long fingers pinching closed his eyes. "I figured it might be easier that way then to apparate then floo."

While he didn't exactly like the idea of walking through the grounds and castle to come back, Harry couldn't disagree because the last thing he wanted after chemotherapy was to endure two forms of magical transportation back to back.

At barely half past six in the morning, the walk through the castle felt almost calming to the Gryffindor. The corridors were quiet and the lanterns low, similar to how they were when he used to roam the castle at night. His footsteps echoed through the empty large hall - with a small squeak from his trainers every now and then - once they made their way up the stairs from the dungeons. The rare silence throughout the castle confirmed the long time rumour of Snape's ability to walk without making a single sound. Crossing the Entrance Hall and out the expansive wooden doors, Harry wondered how the man managed to do it and tried to lighten the pressure of his own steps to no avail.

The sun had barely started to rise at the early hour, and therefore as they exited the courtyard to the pathway leading towards Hogsmeade, Harry was greeted by the first streaks of golden light reaching across the purple and blue sky. The melody from the early birds chirping held the promise of a beautiful Saturday afternoon; one he'd spend sick in bed. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Crookshanks crouched down in the grass, his ears tucked back on his head, clearly trying to hunt one of the birds in the tree above him. Not wanting to disturb Hermione's familiar, Harry slowed his gait to a stop, which Snape - a half step in front of him - noticed and oddly followed suit, his own black eyes watching the feline off to the side. Suddenly, a small white kitten jumped up from behind the large ginger cat toward the tree. The ball of white fluff - a Persian cat, Harry knew - had no chance of reaching the bird in the tree, making Harry chuckle a bit at the attempt.

"Hey there, Crookshanks, I haven't seen you much lately," Harry said, kneeling down to the cat he knew so well. Crookshanks walked up to the Gryffindor and rubbed his face against Harry's knee."Who's this you have here? A friend?"

He reached his hand out to the kitten, half hoping to get them back into the castle before something much larger than the new feline confused it for breakfast. Unfortunately, before his hand could get anywhere near the fluffy animal, it swiftly arched its back aggressively and hissed at him. The small mouth with tiny, albeit very sharp, teeth didn't appear nearly as intimidating as he was sure the kitten thought. Still, he didn't dare try to approach it again. Harry turned to Snape, not like the professor would be able to do anything, but he hadn't expected to see the other wizard watching the pair of cats so intently; his dark brows furrowed and his head turned, deep in thought.

"You two better go back inside before something tries to get your new friend," Harry told Crookshanks. Being such a low-key cat, Crookshanks's answer to him was to stretch his body across Harry's side while the Gryffindor scratched his back. Unfortunately, the kitten didn't seem nearly as relaxed as his older companion.

The sound of Snape clearing his throat caught Harry's attention; they had to go or he'd be late for his treatment. So he picked his bag back up and as he walked by, the kitten swatted at him with its powder puff paw in an action far too cute to be threatening.

"I bet every girl in the school wants that familiar," Harry said to Snape, but the professor's inquisitive expression told him the man either disagreed or his mind was entirely some place else.

"Harry Potter?" A voice Harry didn't recognize called his name from the doorway leading back to exam rooms where he would be getting his blood drawn and his IT treatment done.

The young wizard had seen the nurse with bright blonde hair at each appointment, but she'd never been assigned to his care; he'd always had Samantha. Although Harry usually prided himself in his flexibility, having a new nurse didn't feel right to him. Snape, though, didn't seem to care too much as the professor spent more time than usual handing in his pre-treatment paperwork, even before they knew this new nurse would be assigned to his care.

"My name's Mae," the muggle introduced herself and at the same time gestured for him to enter the first exam room on the right. "And I'll be getting you all set up for your treatment this morning-" she looked down at the file in her hand, "-an intrathecal and one hour Vincristine?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, then without thinking about how it would sound to the nurse, he asked "Where's Samantha?"

The blonde gave a shake of her head and sent him an exaggerated expression, "I know it may seem like we're always working, but occasionally we do get vacations, y'know? I hope she's somewhere soaking up some sun while I'm working her early shift on top of my own this afternoon."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound-"

Her laugh to his uncomfortable response reminded him of Tonks - an older version of Tonks, but the same sassy attitude, nonetheless - and caused him to pause.

"I'm just giving you a hard time," she reassured him, sitting in the chair across from him - already up on the exam table, as usual - with Snape in the plastic chair to her right. "Samantha is on vacation, though, and I am working a double this weekend and the next."

Wait, did she say the last part to Severus?

Harry contemplated the question as the new nurse took his blood pressure, his height and weight, and went through the myriad of questions about his last month. By the time she'd taken his blood sample and set him up with the antiemetic medication - giving him a wink when she said she'd allow them to stay in the exam room - he determined it did, in fact, appear like she told his mentor she'd be working a double shift this weekend and the next. But why would she bother with that tidbit of information? And did he imagine it or did Snape seem to pick up some kind of hidden meaning behind the statement? The man had given an almost imperceptible nod. In fact, had Harry not been so aware of the professor's mannerisms, he probably wouldn't have noticed or understood its meaning. Before Harry could ask Snape - who spent most of his time in the exam room still reviewing the book of parchment he'd been looking over during breakfast - about it, a knock at the door interrupted him. Expecting Mae, Harry smiled when Dr Swanson walked in and felt relieved when she jumped into his results.

"Overall, things are looking promising," the muggle physician began, flipping the files over in her arms. "Your blood results are exactly where we want them to be, and your weight is coming up nicely. Eating has been a challenge for you since the day I took over, so I'm happy to finally see a positive trend. Has your appetite improved?"

Harry's cheeks flushed at the blunt question. "Erm… I guess?" He couldn't be sure where, when, or how the change occurred. "I have more snacks available and I just… I dunno… it helps that everyone around me is eating, so even if I'm not hungry, I still find myself eating here and there. That probably doesn't make much sense."

"Quite the opposite, actually," Dr Swanson smiled. "Eating is a social activity and oftentimes, we see more patients overcome their lack of appetite simply by being around others. Unfortunately, last year prohibited that for you, not to mention you started further on the smaller side than we like, so it's good to see the change now."

Feeling proud for accomplishing something while at school, Harry found himself sitting up taller on the exam table.

"And you're taking your tablets?" She asked very clinically - a trait that used to bother Harry, but now he appreciated it - while sitting next to Snape in the chair across from Harry.

"Mmhmm," he nodded.

Giving him a serious glare over her black plastic framed glasses, she clarified, "At the correct times? Being distracted at school hasn't caused any major delay?"

"No, ma'am," Harry watched Snape's reaction to his declaration. "My morning tablets are waiting for me at breakfast, the evening ones at dinner, and my watch is set to alarm for my daily chemotherapy one an hour after I finish eating. So far, I've been handling the schedule just fine."

"That's great to hear," the doctor replied, making a note in his file. Placing it closed on top of her lap, she leaned forward making Harry uncomfortable. "Tell me how you're sleeping."

The young wizard averted his eyes from both adults in the room. He'd been expecting the question, but had expected just that - a question. Being asked so open endedly threw him off.

"A bit better overall, I think," Harry admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've had a really good month… without really any side effects besides the normal achiness and fatigue, so it's kinda hard to tell if that's the reason or…"

When Harry tailed off, Dr Swanson waited to see if he would continue. When he didn't, she filled in the silence, "The reason for better sleep is less important than the outcome from it. You look more rested and that wouldn't necessarily happen unless you were actually getting sleep. I can't guarantee every month will be this good-" Harry made eye contact with Snape, both wizards remembering their conversation from breakfast, "-but try to enjoy the time it is. Remember not to overdo things with your classes, don't feel bad if you need to take some time off here or there, and take your pain medications when you need them so you can try to get back to life as normally as possible."

"I do use them." For some reason, Harry felt it important she knew this. "And for the most part, they help. Only occasionally I need the morphine.. usually right after the monthly treatments and when I have the extra week of chemo tablets."

He hated the additional tablets he needed to take the five days after his IV treatments. They made him feel almost toxic inside. To help, he started visualizing that feeling was caused by fighting the cancer. Unfortunately, it didn't always make things more bearable.

From there, they went into discussing Harry's sessions with Dr Snyder; the one before school and the one earlier this week, as he hadn't seen Dr Swanson since before his first appointment with the psychologist. Though she didn't press him for any of the details, the Gryffindor found himself animatedly telling her everything he could remember, from the explanation of his anxiety to the coping mechanisms he'd been given to try, and even how the joint session went with Snape this last appointment. He left out how the psychologist asked to meet alone with Snape next time because as a caregiver his emotional and mental needs were no less important. According to Dr Snyder, the professor may not be the one battling this disease, but watching someone he loved go through it - even before their unique pseudo parent-child relationship - could be equally difficult and damaging. Not surprisingly, the longer the muggle psychologist spoke, the more uncomfortable Snape appeared.

Finally, Dr Swanson asked about his magical training. In addition to his regular class workload and psychologist appointment this week, Harry had his required magical testing and it couldn't have gone any better. He'd made some decent progress in mastering the spellwork, specifically in Defense as Healer Smithe had predicted, and adding the third data point on his Magical Output Level, as Harry aptly called it, showed his accidental magic level decreasing. For the first time since his diagnosis - or if he were honest, even since his name came out of the Goblet of Fire - things were looking up and reacting exactly as expected.

With his monthly interview completed, Mae returned to assist with his IT procedure. Watching the blonde nurse interact with Snape it became obvious the two of them had met before, yet Harry couldn't recall a time he had met this nurse outside of seeing her around and thinking she reminded him of Draco; who he thankfully had managed to avoid at school so far. The combination of little things like a joke here or there about Snape's always black or white wardrobe - which Harry had a good laugh about her assessment of what he'd look like in a nice forest green - or the light touch on the professor's shoulder, with what appeared like more of an understanding squeeze, while she helped Dr Swanson set up for the procedure supported his hypothesis, but it was the way she tried to distract him during the IT that finally confirmed it. What started with her describing her most embarrassing Chemistry accidents in school - and Harry trying his hardest not to laugh at her hilarious recounting of dropping an entire watch glass of her newly made white powdered substance directly on her professor's black leather shoes - ended with her asking him to tell her how hard Severus, her word, was as a Chemistry Professor. Luckily, with Snape helping to hold his head down into the fetal position, the man couldn't see the realization in Harry's emerald eyes. How else would she know he taught the muggle equivalent to Potion unless they'd had a personal conversation about it. Pretending not to connect the dots laid out before him, Harry started explaining that most of the students were terrified of the professor and they often had bets in the dorms over his ability to turn into a bat. She laughed, which had been the point of it after all, and once again Harry was relieved not to see Snape's face during the exchange.

When the two wizards were settled back into the main treatment room, Harry covered by the clinic-supplied blanket while receiving his treatment, he considered what to do with the information he'd been piecing together. Snape and Mae had to have talked at some point without him present. And while the blonde muggle usually wasn't his nurse, he still couldn't determine how he felt regarding where it appeared they were headed.

Harry shifted his body up in the reclining chair, grimacing as his body started to protest the poison pumping into it, unable to contain a groan, to sit more upright.

Watching the professor closely, Harry casually asked, "So how do you know Mae?"

Snape hesitated. The pause was so subtle he knew the former spy thought he wouldn't notice, inadvertently giving the young wizard the upper hand in the situation.

"I met her when I visited Dr Swanson about your tablet refills before the wedding," he smoothly explained, barely lifting his head from the book of parchment on his research study. "She technically works for Dr Swanson and here on the weekends."

The extra information tipped the scale in Harry's mind, nevertheless he didn't mention anything about his suspicion. Instead, he ended up vomiting and officially kicking off the start of the horrible weekend ahead of him.

~~~~SS~~~~

There were many parts of teaching Severus would be happy to leave behind when his teaching career ended, but marking had to be at the top of the list. With school now in full swing, plus trying to keep up with Harry's magical testing and bimonthly psychology appointments, choosing not to acknowledge his own, Severus had to stay on top of his marking more so than any previous year; including last year. So once he finally got Harry settled into his room in their familiar dungeon quarters - after trying his hardest to shield the Gryffindor from the curious stares as they walked through the castle, though he suspected Harry hardly cared at that point - the professor resisted the urge to head straight to his own bedroom to take a nap in preparation for whatever the rest of the day and night would hold. Instead, he went to his office to grab the latest essays from his desk to start the awful process of marking from the comfort of his sitting room. So far, they've battled some form of Harry's accidental magic during each IV chemotherapy appointment, and this time Severus would be mentally prepared for it.

Usually working the afternoon shift, the professor couldn't have been any more surprised to see Mae at the clinic early this morning, and even more shocked to find she'd been covering for Samantha as Harry's nurse. In the fortnight since classes started, Severus had been able to make several trips back to his home for calls with the nurse. They'd planned their next date - by their fourth phone call, he grudgingly admitted to title their outings as such - for Saturday the 27th; last weekend dedicated to his work at the MLD, this one for Harry's treatment, and now he understood the next for her double shift. She invited him over to her flat, after his shift at the lab, for dinner with her flatmate. No matter the reason for the delay from their first date to the second, the former Death Eater couldn't hide the fact he was actually looking forward to it.

Seeing Mae with Harry gave the professor a renewed appreciation for the nurses taking care of the young wizard. He'd never considered the line of duty drawn between physician and nurse, however that morning it couldn't be more obvious to him. Where Dr Swanson gave the facts of his illness, treatments, and care in a very reassuring, "I have everything under control way", Mae - and in hindsight, Samantha - had been there for any of Harry's immediate needs. From anything like a cup of water to helping calm the teen during the intrathecal procedure he'd had plenty of times already, the nurses had been on top of it and did so in a way that felt natural; like they had this extra comforting piece of them to give out to their scared or overwhelmed patients. Something about seeing the woman he enjoyed spending time with helping out the boy he thought of as his son left an imprint on his heart he couldn't quite place. It didn't quite feel like how he felt remembering his time with Lily - it was almost more significant.

I should tell Harry.

The thought creeped up on Severus halfway through marking Dennis Creevey's revision essay on Red Caps. He hadn't meant to intentionally keep his potential relationship with Mae from Harry, it simply never felt like the right time or they were busy with some other school or magic related topic. Not to mention, at almost 38 years old, he didn't exactly need the teen's permission. But he wanted to maintain the trust they'd built, and it wouldn't take Harry long to put the pieces of the puzzle together, especially after their interactions this morning.

Severus placed the quill filled with red ink and the parchment scroll he'd been marking on the sitting room table in front of him, then rubbed his temples with both of his hands. He could feel a headache - possibly a migraine - coming on, his fourth one this week. The clock on the mantle showed ten to seven o'clock, the late hour confirmed by the sun setting in his enchanted window depicting a scene of the whomping willow. Both he and Harry had missed dinner, though he knew neither of them would feel like eating, and he'd been marking - or attempting to at least - for roughly three hours, with little to show for it in the small pile of completed essays on the table in front of him. In those three hours, Harry had been mostly quiet. The professor had left the young wizard's bedroom door ajar, refusing to give his accidental magic any help in preventing Severus from hearing if Harry needed him. So far, he'd heard rustling in the room and every so often a groan from the Gryffindor, but nothing alarming - no vomiting, no door closing, just the sleep he knew Harry's body needed to recover.

Severus wouldn't be able to tell if he'd seen the sphere light up, felt its vibration against the side of his left leg where it had been placed, or had heard Harry's screaming from the bedroom first. Without thinking, he rushed from his armchair in the sitting room and in almost record time made it to the threshold of Harry's room half expecting to be unable to enter, and released a breath of relief when he crossed into the room. The teen's bedroom had been left alone since last year, so Severus didn't need to illuminate the lanterns any more to find his way to the bed in the far corner of the room under another enchanted window - this one showing the Black Lake. His heart broke when he approached and saw Harry laying on his side, in the same fetal position he needed to be in for his IT treatments. His back faced Severus, so at first the former spy couldn't see the painful grimace on the young wizard's face, but could see this pyjama shirt already clinging to his back from sweat.

"Harry," he loudly called out, in an attempt to get through the agonizing screaming and moaning. He kneeled beside the bed with his hands hovering over Harry as he debated if touching him would make things worse or not. "Tell me what's going on."

When that didn't yield any results, outside of Harry's continued wails, Severus decided to try a more direct tactic with yes or no questions.

"Do you feel sick?"

The black mop of hair shook on the white pillow.

"Are you in pain?"

A nod.

"Is it your joints?"

Another no.

"Your stomach?"

Finally, a nod. Severus waved his wand to summon Harry's antiemetic and pain medications. As Harry said he didn't feel sick, Severus placed the antiemetic down on the bedside table, deciding to go with the pain tablets. The moment he dropped one of the tablets into his open palm, he paused when Harry simultaneously crunched into a tighter ball, clenching his stomach, getting the strangest feeling of deja vu. Didn't Harry have a similar reaction to his magical core dying? Being his first chemotherapy treatment during his magical retraining, this was most likely a reaction to that and last year only the IV of morphine helped ease the young wizard's pain.

Torn with what to do, Severus put the tablet back in the bottle and immediately conjured his patronus and used it to send a message to Alton with words like: needed at Hogwarts, Harry in pain, bring IV meds. His rising panic would be heard loud and clear in the message and the professor could only hope his friend would be able to decipher its meaning.

"Make it stop," Harry complained. "The burning… make it stop."

"Alton will bring you something soon, Harry," he tried to reassure the Gryffindor, still writhing on the bed. He placed his hand confidently and firmly on Harry's left shoulder in hopes the contact would remind the teenager he wasn't alone during this.

The minutes ticked by like hours as the two wizards waited for the one person they knew could bring some relief from the burning in Harry's core. Unable to move to the side of the bed, let alone to the loo, Harry ended up vomiting - from the pain or chemotherapy, Severus didn't know - in his bed right before Severus heard his floo roar to life in the other room.

"In here, Alton!" He uncharacteristically yelled while cleaning the vomit as best he could with Scourgify. The bedding would have to be changed,but it would do for now.

Finally, Alton hurried into the room carrying his black medical bag, acting like he had complete control of the situation.

"What's going on, Severus?" he asked while taking out the IV supplies, demonstrating his level of trust in the professor's assessment of Harry's condition.

"He says it's burning in his stomach," he told the healer. Moving out of the way so the other man could do his work, Severus sat at the foot of the bed watching as Alton carefully helped Harry unroll onto his back, so he could access his port for the morphine

"Harry?" Alton's kind, steady voice asked. Harry vehemently started shaking his head back and forth in his pillow. "If you can hear me, Harry, squeeze my hand-" the longest pause followed until, "- perfect. I'm going to start you on some pain medication through your port and then run a diagnostic scan to make sure there's nothing else going on."

Harry nodded, instead of a verbal confirmation, as he continued to moan in pain. To Severus, the time it took Alton to set up the IV felt like the longest moments of his life. What he wouldn't give to trade places with Harry; to be able to take away the anguish he had to be feeling. Anything, everything. He'd give it all to be able to take this away.

The two older wizards could tell the morphine started to work when Harry's muscles began to relax and the trembling throughout his weakened body slowed, coming to an eventual stop. Relief poured through Severus when Harry's eyes blinked closed. No words were exchanged between the friends while Alton ran several different diagnostic charms on the sleeping teen.

"Well?" The anxious professor stood up next to the healer.

"Everything looks good," Alton replied, and Severus had to hold back his anger. He wanted to challenge the man - if everything looked good, then Harry wouldn't need an IV of pain medication. "Let's go out to the sitting room and talk... give Harry some time to rest."

Unfortunately, Severus found himself unable to calm down. He sat in his armchair, cradling his head in his hands. They'd been through so much, and yet somehow he'd managed to push back the awful memories of those early chemo days; back when Harry had hours of back-to-back days, when he had been in so much misery he begged to give up. If everything went right, the treatment in males with ALL lasted roughly three and half years and they were barely over a year in. He didn't even want to consider what it would look like if things didn't all go right.

"It's his magical core, isn't it?" Severus eventually asked, lifting his head to meet Alton's light brown eyes with his own black. The healer gave a small nod. "I thought with the lighter medications, the burning would cease? He'd been in Maintenance for over half a year without a reaction like that." His arm swung back towards Harry's room to help emphasize his point.

"Remember, Severus," Alton carefully began, "he hadn't been actively using his magic. Now it's getting taxed from classes as well as while it's trying to heal him from the chemotherapy side effects, just like we talked about on Day One."

"Then we need to move to plan B," he stood and started pacing in front of the fireplace, convincing himself placing the magical block had now become the only solution. Obviously, retraining wouldn't work. "He can't continue like this," he ran his hands through his long black hair as he muttered to himself, "Albus will help, and between the two of us, we can get the ingredients by Friday and this can all be-"

"What are you talking about?" Alton firmly interrupted him.

In his high anxiety state, Severus hadn't considered who was sitting on the sofa directly across from him. Stopping his pacing to look at the man who had been through so much with him over the year - and further back if he cared to admit to it - and in Alton's eyes he could see they were no longer talking physician to patient's parent, rather father-to-father. Years ago, Severus had gone out of his way to help Mary Smithe overcome her illness utilizing magic and for the first time, Severus could see that Alton was doing the same for him: helping his son by utilizing muggle medicine.

In that moment, Severus broke down and told the other wizard about the magical ritual Albus wanted to do. He summoned the text with the procedure and told the man everything he knew about it: how it would temporarily block out all of Harry's magic leaving him as a squib, how they had no real idea of how long the effects would last, that he still hadn't found a way to make the normally painful process bearable for Harry, and Harry's hard stance against such an act. Alton listened with an open mind, a skill the former spy guessed he'd learned as part of his healer training or perhaps was simply his Ravenclaw traits showing through - a deep desire to learn everything he could about the illegal ritual. He read through the text at least three times, asking logical questions about the ingredients, where and how to secure them, and if Severus thought Harry was mentally strong enough to go through with it.

"As Harry's healer," Alton said, breaking the silence which had fallen over them once the Healer's questions were all answered, his hand patted the book as he spoke, "I can tell you we're not here yet."

Anger fueled Severus's next response, "How can you say that?! What about-"

"- this is one instance, Severus," the other man closed the book, but instead of placing it back on the table he held it on his lap. "We shouldn't ignore this issue, however we also shouldn't condemn him for it either."

"You said-"

"It's a balance," the Healer cut him off yet again, making Severus's blood boil. "We need to find the right balance and stick to it."

Flinging himself back into his chair, Severus started fidgeting - an act more akin to Harry than himself - and running his fingers back and forth through the gaps between them. He desperately wanted a glass of Firewhiskey, but also knew he had to be completely here, mentally, should Harry need something, so the small movements helped work out the pent up aggression inside of him.

"So what do we do now?" He asked once he trusted his voice not to verbally slaughter the other wizard.

Releasing a sigh, feeling as if he'd won the battle - and perhaps he had, for now anyway - Alton rested his forearms on his thighs as he leaned over close to the professor. "I'll test his magic again next week," he commanded, "assuming things there look positive, which I fully anticipate because this was not an instance of accidental magic-" Severus found himself agreeing to that statement, he'd been able to get into the room, after all, "-then my suggestion is to drop his Transfiguration class. It's the least helpful in organizing his magic and hopefully that will balance out more of his core. I'm also going to suggest we go back to IV pain medication after his monthly treatments. I can plan to stop by after he leaves the clinic to get him setup, and Madam Pomfrey can handle the removal of it."

He didn't necessarily like it, but he could agree to give it a try before pushing the block ritual.

Alton stayed until almost eleven that night. Before leaving, they both made their way back to the Gryffindor's bedroom where the healer ran another two diagnostic charms on the teen and switched out his IV medication to last him until the morning. Harry, luckily, slept straight through all of it and once they were alone, Severus knew he should have resigned to his bedroom, nevertheless he sat down in the chair beside Harry's bed and watched the young wizard sleep. Somehow he appeared peaceful and pained at the same time; his cheeks twitching, though his eyelids softly closed.

Sometimes it felt like too much for him. That at any moment he would turn around and life would simply crumble away. It was hard; harder than managing most of this disease in his old reality. Back there, the majority of his energy had been spent brewing, an activity that ironically calmed him and therefore would help him through the harder times - like when Harry struggled with his memory during the first regimen - and the rest of the time, at least until the end, had been almost life as normal. This, though, this tore him into pieces and he'd be lucky if he had them all, let alone know how to begin putting them back together. Sitting in the dark bedroom, watching his son sleep away the pain, Mae's words returned to him: this disease is hard to handle alone. And yet, although he knew he was surrounded by help, he couldn't feel anymore alone. No one else felt half as responsible for Harry's well being as he did, and most of the time he wouldn't have it any other way. Today, he felt defeated in a way that had him second guessing far too many aspects of his life.

"Sev'rus?" The dry, crackling voice from the bed brought him out of his miserable mindscape and back to the present.

"How do you feel?" The professor asked, helping Harry sit up against the headboard of his bed so he could take a sip of water.

"Awful," Harry answered. "My body hurts and… was that the same burning as my hell weeks last year?"

Taking the goblet from Harry's shaking hands, Severus placed it on the bedside table, next to the watch he always saw the young wizard wearing, then proceeded to explain everything Alton had relayed. Unwilling to sound as unsure of the situation as he felt, Severus spoke with confidence in how his healer planned to handle this latest development working. It's what a parent would tell their scared child, and if Harry caught onto his ploy, he didn't mention it. For the most part, Harry sounded engaged and ready to do whatever it took to keep going with his retraining; even laughing about how he looked forward to not taking Transfiguration anymore.

Now with an IV of morphine attached to his port, Harry's ease of mobility significantly decreased, meaning he had to resort to using the pail whenever he needed to sick up. One particularly bad round had Severus sitting on the bed with Harry, helping to hold him steady so he didn't further soil his bedding.

"You went on a date with her didn't you? That night with goblins..." The absolutely random question from Harry while his head was still half in the pail confused the professor.

"What are you talking about?" He answered, yet in the back of his mind he knew exactly what Harry meant.

"The new nurse," with his eyes closed, the Gryffindor let out a trembling breath. "What was her name? Mae?"

"Ah," Severus said, hoping to over his alarm at the conversation, "You should be focusing more on you right now, then on me."

"It's ok," Harry told him, laying back down in his bed facing towards the professor, his eyes squinted as he tried to focus without his glasses, to which Severus handed him. "She seemed nice and a whole lot better than you dating a goblin."

"I'm not dating anyone," he lamented, not wanting to give up the small smile itching to leave him."I've gone on one date."

"So far," the Gryffindor challenged. "Seriously, you could have told me you fancied her."

Severus furrowed his eyebrows thinking back to how everything with Mae came about.

"It just sort of happened," he said, "I don't know what I think about it yet besides the fact that you are still my first priority, and you always will be, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry laughed. "How do you talk to her though? I mean, my experience may be severely limited, but even I know any woman, magical or muggle, wouldn't be alright going weeks without any communication. And it's not like you can send her an owl... Trust me, Muggles aren't used to seeing those flying around casually during the day."

"I have…. My methods for staying in communication," he said, trying not to think about the implication of Harry's last statement. This time it was Harry's turn to frown as he contemplated what that could mean. "I may have taken a visit to Arthur Weasley."

Harry laughed, and rather than feel embarrassed - as Severus would have anticipated - he felt grateful the teen could laugh after the incident he'd just gone through. As they seemed to do every month following his chemotherapy treatment, the two of them stayed up until the early hours of the morning going over what to expect in the coming weeks with Harry's magic, Severus's awkward date with Mae at the Village Tree, and answering the Gryffindor's questions - to the best of his ability - on his work at the Malfoys' laboratory; prompted by the professor's almost constant review of the laboratory notes Lucius managed to secure for him in an effort to get him caught up on the theory and get him on the bench as quickly as possible. These late nights were exhausting, mentally from the day and physically as Harry still dealt with the side effects of treatment, but he would never deny Harry the chance to talk about the many thoughts plaguing his young mind, and Severus could admit he benefited from them too. By the time the sun started to peek over the horizon, Harry had finally fallen asleep once again. Alton would be returning in a matter of hours to check on the young wizard's IV, and so Severus made his way to the kitchen for the first of many cups of coffee he'd drink that day.