~~~~HP~~~~

Wednesday 24th September, 1997

For Harry, the next ten days passed by without too much fanfare. His magical testing post-chemotherapy, and the return of his burning core, showed another set of positive results to his magical training. Even with the clear sign of his core dying, the accidental magic output was starting to decrease as his magic organized. To try to keep things more balanced, Healer Smithe went ahead and completely excused Harry from Transfiguration; his worst class overall and one where the healer said he'd see the least amount of organizational return. Since Harry hated the class, to no fault of Professor McGonagall, he didn't mind it one bit.

Having one less class ultimately meant he had more free time, however the Gryffindor quickly learned that free time alone - when his friends were still in class - wasn't much fun at all. Most of the time, Harry spent his extra hours sitting by the lake trying to rekindle his sketching, eventually determining drawing people in his current mindscape was far too difficult and switched over to magical creatures: the giant squid, Buckbeak, and the centaurs. Each one had brought its own set of memories to the Gryffindor, but they were easier for him to manage than the constant reminders from sketching Snape, Dudley, or even Ginny.

As the days continued to move towards the end of September, Harry found the cold air penetrated his yellow blanket too much for him to continue his outdoor breaks. Prior to his diagnosis, he would have been one of those students who spent as much time on the school grounds as possible, trying his hardest to soak up as much of the fall sunshine before the grey winter skies settled in over the castle until spring. Now, his body had little tolerance to the cold. According to Healer Smithe at his last testing, it certainly didn't help that his body started with less fat reserves prior to his treatment even began, then combined with his difficulty eating and lower blood counts, it was very common. Regardless of the reasons, Harry hated it. He couldn't do something as simple as keeping himself warm, and that constant reminder hurt him when all he wanted to do was pretend life had gone back to normal.

Of course, life couldn't go back to normal because there was no normal anymore. A fact amplified when the Daily Prophet started running daily spotlights on the potential suspected Death Eater reemergence once the details on the Godric's Hollow attack had finally come out. These morning spotlights included anything from "Where Are They Now?" guesses on the location of the missing or lower ranked Death Eaters, to outlining the trial and sentencing of Ash and Talpin for their coordination of the Diagon Alley attack, and any updates on the Godric's Hollow attack - so far, nothing of use had been found and the responsible witches or wizards were still out there. The last thought hit Harry hard, wondering if they were targeting him, and Snape had simply waved off his concern. Shouldn't they be trying to prepare for any possible scenario? And what made Snape so confident he was right on the matter? Those two questions continued to plague Harry's mind each morning Hermione showed the Gryffindor table the latest news.

All the talk of Death Eaters over the last two weeks put an uncomfortable - even to Harry - emphasis on the Slytherins; Snape and Draco in particular. Not surprisingly, Kingsley and Auror Williamson showed up Monday morning to do another random check on the Malfoy Heir - this time pulling him from his room in the Slytherin Dungeon - and by lunchtime, a rumor ran through the Great Hall that he'd been arrested for dark spells found on his wand, as no one had seen him in classes the rest of the morning. It turned out only to be because the blonde missed his first morning class and then worked at the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey afterwards, but the whole incident left Harry intrigued. The Gryffindor never asked Snape for the details from the Aurors' first check-in, which had interrupted their dinner, knowing the professor wouldn't tell him, although he got the distinct impression their visits were anything but pleasant.

So far, due to Harry's alternative classes, the two wizards had no problems staying away from one another, and Hermione - and to some extent Ron - did well at not bringing up the taboo topic of their mutual reconciliation. He never forgot Hermione's words to him at the Burrow the night of his birthday: she thought they'd learn a lot from one another. Although Harry had managed to get through most of his mental struggles in coming to terms with his imprisonment - mostly due to his friends and Snape - and working his way into accepting his illness, thanks to Dr Snyder, he still hadn't been able to open the letters Draco sent over the summer. Strangely, it seemed the longer he went without opening them, the heavier they weighed on his mind and, at the same time, the easier it became to ignore them. No matter how much time passed, or how much the two of them could ignore one another, Harry occasionally found his thoughts brought back to the other wizard. Inevitably, at some point they would have to make amends - if for no other reason than their shared connection with Hermione - yet Harry had no clue how they could get there.

On Wednesdays, Harry started his day with Defense with the third years. As Healer Smithe predicted, Defense had been the one class he still excelled in and Harry really didn't mind having to retake it. Class with Snape this year felt more comfortable than either of them could have expected, especially when Harry had no friends with him in the class. The Gryffindor managed to stay focused and engaged more so than any other class he'd taken at Hogwarts, besides maybe Lupin's class. Wednesdays though, Snape designated to their lectures - with practicals on Fridays - and no matter how much Harry tried to take Hermione's advice on learning material twice, he had a much harder time staying focused learning about nocturnal beasts for the second time than any of the spellwork.

In the last ten minutes of class, Snape had graciously given them time to get a head start on their next essays. Naturally, Harry took the first two of these minutes observing the professor - knowing Snape wouldn't usually give time like this for homework - noticing how exhausted the man was looking. Guilt filled his body knowing he had contributed to at least the start of the exhaustion by not only staying up all night after his chemotherapy almost two weeks ago, but he knew Snape had been feverishly researching everything he could about his magical core burning; evident when the man knew just as much as Healer Smithe on his last testing day. Combined with all his studying for his new research job, a private appointment with Dr Snyder, arranging calls with Mae - this one Harry only suspected, not about to snoop into Snape's private life - and now all the new Death Eater rumors, he couldn't blame the professor for wanting to make his classes as easy as possible.

"Potter."

Harry tried his hardest to ignore the sound of his name being whispered tauntingly from the seat directly behind him. He didn't need to turn around to know the young voice belonged to Oliver Ackerly, a fourteen year old Ravenclaw Harry really hadn't known before joining this class. Since having to navigate the second years with Nott's cousin, Harry knew well enough to keep his head down, even with the younger year students.

"Hey, Potter!"

Still, Harry didn't react or so much as move.

"Maybe the twats gone lost his hearing now?" Another Ravenclaw, Mark Pertinger, added. Harry could almost picture the two of them working side by side trying to get a rise out of him. He had no idea what the younger wizard wanted to accomplish by slinging the insults toward him, but he stuck to his decision not to give them the satisfaction.

"It'll certainly make it easier for the Death Eaters to get a hold of him," Oliver continued to taunt. "Maybe then the rest of us could finally live in peace and-"

"Do you have a question with your assignment, Mr Ackerly?" Snape stood from his desk and swiftly made his way across the classroom until he towered over the pair of wizards. "I shall warn you, though, based on the nonsensical rubbish I've received on Mr Pertinger's last assignment, I would caution you not to trust a word he says."

Harry suppressed a laugh. To a Ravenclaw, the insult would hit hard.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw-," Snape continued and the two students started to protest, "-each for disturbing my class!"

It seemed a bit steep to Harry, but he didn't say a thing about it.

"Starting mid-October," Snape walked through the room as he spoke, his hands grasped behind his back, "we'll begin our lesson on Boggarts. Can anyone tell me what a Boggart is?"

The class remained silent, most likely in hopes that the bell would ring before having to answer.

"Mr Potter?" The professor's predictable response rang across the class. Of course he knew Harry could answer it, though most of the time he refrained from calling on the young wizard for these types of questions.

Rolling his eyes, Harry turned towards Snape and answered, "A Boggart is a shape-shifter which changes its form to match the person's greatest fear."

"Very good," Snape flatly replied, showing his disappointment in the other students, though Harry definitely didn't think it fair; they wouldn't have a reason to read that far ahead in the textbook. "Given the nature of this particular dark creature, I've decided to split the practical for this lesson into semi-private lessons-"

"Private lessons?" Harry called out, confused.

"Five points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn, Mr Potter," Snape reprimanded him. "And yes. It is my belief that to require a student to admit to their greatest fear in front of their peers can be quite… disturbing. Therefore, prior to leaving today, you'll sign up in groups of three for a day and time to go through the practical on a more individualized basis."

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. Remus had them all go through the exercise together and it didn't seem too bad overall. Of course, he could also see where giving a bunch of rivaling students access to each other's biggest fears could be used against them. The thought was definitely something a Slytherin would consider versus a Gryffindor like Remus. Either way, with his last Boggart being Snape dead - an image he had to quickly push from his mind - he didn't exactly want that announced throughout the school. So as he waited in line for the sign up sheet right before the end of class, Harry found himself grateful for the smaller groups.

There were only two students - Hufflepuff girls he'd been paired with for last week's practical - in front of him when Oliver Ackerly pushed his way up from the back of the line. Harry could feel the other wizard's presence long before his elbow jutted into Harry's right side, causing the Gryffindor to hmph. Then the Ravenclaw leaned in and whispered, "I see you're going to let your daddy stand up for you Potter. Some Gryffindor honor you have."

This time, Harry whipped around, his face becoming red with anger, "I didn't do a single thing to you, Ackerly. Leave it alone."

"Or what?" The Ravenclaw boasted, taking a step closer to Harry until they were almost chest to chest, visually reminding the Gryffindor that Oliver was three years younger than him. Giving his head a shake, fully intending on signing up for his lesson and walking away, Harry turned around with his hands clenched into fists beside his legs, when Oliver said, "You're such a wanker. You can't even protect yourself if you wanted to. Maybe this time your daddy can keep you safe from the Death Eaters. You going to let him die for you just like you let your mum die?"

Without any conscious thought - reacting fully on his aggression and instincts - Harry quickly flipped back around, simultaneously drawing back his fist, then let it loose and squarely punched the shorter wizard in the jaw. Before anyone around the room could react, Ackerly lunged at Harry and the boys were on the floor, each trying to get the upper hand in their fight with their classmates circled around them. It could have been ten seconds or ten minutes - Harry would never be able to tell - later when he felt himself dragged away from the Ravenclaw he had been fighting.

"Enough!" Snape's angry voice boomed, practically vibrating into Harry's core. Now that he had been magically removed from Ackerly, Harry felt a trickle of blood trailing from his nose. Licking his lips, the coppery taste caused him to grimace, as he remembered the nosebleed the night Snape broke into Privet Drive.

The panic - shielded by his rage - on Snape's face from Harry's bleeding wouldn't be noticeable to anyone besides the Gryffindor who'd come to know the man more than almost anyone else in the school.

"I'm fine," he instinctively said. The last thing he wanted after the things Ackerly announced to his classmates was Snape fussing over him.

"Get to the hospital wing," Snape instructed, disappointment laced in his voice. Conjuring a handkerchief, he handed it to Harry to collect the blood from his nose, "I'll meet you there after I deal with things here. Have Madam Pomfrey call Dr Swanson immediately."

Harry nodded, brushing his robes off as he stood, feeling his ribs aching and willing to bet they were bruised too. Ackerly's lip was split and also bleeding, but other than that he didn't appear hurt. Embarrassment crept up Harry's cheeks for starting a fight with a fourteen year old at the age of seventeen.

In the time it took for the Gryffindor to walk from the Defense classroom to the hospital wing, his nosebleed did not show any signs of slowing down. Being ten days from chemotherapy, he would have expected his blood count to have increased enough by now, but admittedly no one had ever had a reason to test them mid treatment cycle. For all he knew, it took until closer to the next treatment to fully rebound, and that meant he would have to be more careful going forward.

Walking into the hospital wing for the first time of the year brought Harry back to the day he woke up after being hit by the Killing Curse. He'd spent time with his parents - regardless if he could actually say that happened or not - and yet he didn't necessarily feel sad about leaving them. On the contrary, he'd been excited to get back to Snape, even if at the time he expected to still have to face off with Voldemort. So when the too familiar smell of the hospital wing hit his nose through the non-bleeding side, he wasn't surprised when the anticipated anxiety didn't follow. What did catch him completely off guard was the sight of Draco Malfoy, wearing his uniform minus his outer robe, sorting through potions on the bed furthest from the doorway. The blonde looked up at the sound of the large door opening and Harry could feel the air in the room get heavy when their eyes met.

Draco's eyes shifted to the bloody cloth Harry held against the bottom of his nose and he gestured with his head to the second bed on the left - one closer than Harry's usual spot. Wanting to leave and have Snape call his physician instead, the Gryffindor pulled out some of his bravery and walked to bed where he took off his outer robe and sat down.

"Where's Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked when Draco approached him on the bed. He elevated his head slightly in hopes of slowing the bleeding, only allowing him to see Draco from the bottom of his vision.

"She got called away for a Potions accident," Draco explained. He carefully pulled back the handkerchief to see the stream of blood still slowly making its way from Harry's nose towards his lips. With a grimace, he said, "We have strict orders not to magically heal you without your oncologist's approval for anything less than profuse bleeding, which I guess fortunately this isn't. I'll run a diagnostic spell to make sure there's no internal bleeding then I'll go give her a call."

He was all business, which Harry oddly appreciated, pulling his wand out and running the length of the Gryffindor's body. Draco was surprisingly calm - in a way Harry hadn't seen the other wizard before - as he watched the results come through.

"Well, your nose isn't broken," Draco said it as if he were talking about the latest Quidditch scores. He lifted his eyes up from the parchment, filled with doubt as the blood continued to pour from the Gryffindor's nose. "When was your last chemo?"

"On the thirteenth," Harry swallowed trying to rid himself of the thick coppery liquid going down the back of his throat. He wanted to ask if Draco knew how long it would take for his blood counts to rebound, but doubted he knew the answer "Are you sure you did the scan right?"

Clenching his jaw for a moment in what Harry could assume was his way of resisting the urge to reply with an insult back, Draco eventually responded, "If I can't do a simple diagnostic spell, I shouldn't be here. Your nose isn't broken."

The Gryffindor gave his nose a wiggle and didn't feel any pain. Having never had a broken nose before he had to guess it would be more painful than this.

"How does your right side feel?" asked Draco, continuing to scan his results. "You have a lot of bruising there."

"It hurts," Harry unexpectedly groaned when he pushed on the spot Ackerly had elbowed him. The ribs beneath were still very tender and he could already visualize the purple bruising showing up in the next day. "I was elbowed in the rib cage."

The Slytherin stared flatly at him, the question practically dancing on his tongue. In true Malfoy fashion, his grey eyes narrowed and he furrowed his brows, "Aren't you in classes with second years? They're like… twelve."

"This was with the third years," the raven-haired teen practically spat back. "Listen, if you can't help me I'll just wait for Madam Pomfrey to return."

"Look, like I said," the Slytherin reiterated, turning more professional once again, "I can't even give you a muggle pain tablet without your muggle doctor's approval. Let me-"

The door opened suddenly and Madam Pomfrey came strutting into the infirmary. "I swear, Severus may have been hated by almost the entire the student body, but never have I had to go to his classroom for a-" she jumped a bit when she saw the two wizards at the bed, Harry still holding the now mostly red handkerchief to his nose, "- Oh my! Muggle fighting Mr Potter?" She admonished him.

"Something like that," Harry answered, his voice nasally from holding his nose.

"I'll go call Dr Swanson and see how she wants to handle this," the Matron called out. "Draco, grab him a new handkerchief while I make this call. Dare I say, he needs another at this point."

"Yes, Madam," Draco obediently replied. He swiftly walked over to the cupboard and came back with a larger bandage and a folded up hospital wing pyjama shirt. "You might want to get changed into this," he laid the striped buttoned shirt on the bed, "they're going to want to see your side. And I found another bruise starting on your back."

"Thank you," Harry said without thinking about the recipient and a part of him hoped the other teen would pick up their need to clear the air between them and start the conversation. Unfortunately, that hope quickly dissipated when the Slytherin next spoke.

"It's my job, Potter."

And without so much as a second glance back at the Gryffindor, Draco clicked his wand on the small teal partition separating the beds and it expanded to completely enclose the space to give him privacy.

~~~~SS~~~~

Since the Daily Prophet's declaration of a new regime of Death Eaters, of course giving no actual context to the supposed movement, Severus's office had become a revolving door of his Slytherins bringing all sorts of comments and concerns. From first years terrified to enter the Common Room if a child of one of the previously convicted Death Eaters were in there, to a pair of fourth years stating they no longer felt safe walking the corridors alone, and even his prefects coming to his quarters to report inter-house magical disputes, their entire structure had practically dissolved overnight. The only benefits he'd been able to find from the blasted articles had to be the confidence it instilled that at least most of his students didn't, in fact, fear him. But with great respect, comes great responsibility - or some muggle phrase like that - meaning he had a House meeting scheduled for nine o'clock that night to discuss several new rules he'd be putting in place for the protection and safety of their house; he still needed to work on his phrasing before then.

With so much chaos going on between the Death Eaters - where Albus once again asked for his assistance regardless of his own reassurance that a new regime was not likely -, Harry's chemotherapy and magical core issues, stealthily keeping up with Draco's whereabouts, working at the MLD last Saturday and this one coming up, and talking to Mae twice a week and their next date only three days away, the absolute last thing he needed was for Harry to turn around and physically hit another student, a third year, no less. It really shouldn't have surprised him since Harry had always worn his heart on his sleeve and been a victim to his own anger, and if Draco could start the year off muggle dueling, certainly Harry would end up doing so at least once. He'd only hoped they could have been more than only three weeks apart.

Obviously, he'd need to let Minerva know - probably should have let her know immediately - but he couldn't do it until he got the chance to figure out what the bloody hell the child had been thinking. Luckily, Oliver Ackley had no real damage done by Harry's hit, only a split lip and a bump on the head from hitting it on a desk when he lunged at Harry. Unfortunately, no real injuries meant he couldn't go and see Harry until he handled the Ravenclaw. That consisted of documenting his side of the story and assigning his punishment of twenty house points lost and detention that night - conveniently to be served with Mr Filch as he had his house meeting to prepare for - all of which took upwards of fifteen minutes.

As he stormed through the corridors on his way to the hospital wing, his mind raced between fear over the young wizard's nosebleed being more than a broken nose and infuriation over the Gryffindor's inability to be able control his own temper. Walking on almost autopilot to his destination, Severus found himself unhealthily focusing on Harry's bloody nose. No matter how many times he replayed the fight in his head, he couldn't find the moment where Ackerly actually hit Harry in the face. He could have missed it, obviously there had been a lot going on, but he definitely needed to discuss it with Dr Swanson, who hopefully had already been called.

Harry was the only patient in the hospital wing and yet the number of people in attendance caused his heart to stop momentarily for no other reason than he associated many people with bad news. In reality, Draco's presence next to Madam Pomfrey was the only unexpected person. Approaching the second bed on the left, one closer to the door than Harry's usual spot, he immediately noticed the Gryffindor laying in the bed, now dressed in a set of hospital wing issued pyjamas unbuttoned to allow access to his port with an IV hanging next to the bed attached. Dr Swanson stood on the far side of the bed, facing towards Severus, with Madam Pomfrey and Draco on the close side, both of their backs to him.

"What happened?" demanded Severus, releasing some of his pent up aggression still lingering from his brisk walk.

"Told you he'd freak out," Harry casually answered.

"I'll deal with you a minute," the professor bellowed. "Anyone care to tell me what's going on?"

He'd expected a bit of magic needed to repair Harry's broken nose - which to their credit was no longer actively bleeding - as muggles really had no way to fix a broken nose, and possibly enough bruise salve to slow any bruising on his body. Never had he considered to prepare himself for Harry to have an IV to stop the bleeding.

"It's just a precaution," Dr Swanson spoke up. "He has some pretty serious internal bleeding on his side, and obviously you saw his nose."

"Broken?"

"Surprisingly, no," the doctor said, flipping through the files in her hand. "The bleeding most likely came from a ruptured membrane inside his nasal cavity. It's very commonly seen in patients on chemotherapy and is certainly within the realm of possibilities from taking a hard fall."

Severus ran his hand down his face. The anxiety of seeing his son with the nosebleeds and bruising - plus bone pain as his marrow crowded with the extra white blood cells from the Leukemia - clouded his ability to think rationally about the situation in front of him. His mind could only take so much, and this pushed him beyond his limits.

"Sit down, Severus," Dr Swanson instructed and, apparently agreeing with the muggle doctor, Poppy conjured up a chair for him.

"Thank you, Poppy," he said. Although he normally hated to show any weakness, the people around him had seen him in some of his darkest times. "So what now?"

"Staying out of fights is a good place to start," Dr Swanson lectured to the young wizard in the bed. "Beyond that I'll check your side to make sure it's starting to heal and you'll be on your way."

She made it sound so simple, and to her it may have been. He still wasn't convinced they were out of danger yet, but at this point he had no reason for feeling that way besides his intuition, and it had been wrong before, after all.

"What happened in class, Harry?" Severus bluntly asked his child when Dr Swanson and Madam Pomfrey had finally left for her office, and Draco to lunch. "Dare I say, you've done some foolish things in your seven years here, but I don't recall any actual fighting."

"I got banned from Quidditch fifth year for fighting with Malfoy," Harry admitted.

"That incident," the professor angrily replied, "may have slipped my memory, however my original question still stands."

At first, the young wizard didn't react and Severus thought he'd have to repeat the question. When he did speak, his voice was low, not necessarily due to remorse or embarrassment, but laced with a more sinister undertone Severus didn't like.

"He just got to me," Harry claimed, "I'd been ignoring him most of the class, and then he said… it doesn't matter. I couldn't just let him go around saying things like that."

The statement reminded Severus of the conversation he'd had with Draco about his fight at Hogsmeade Station, and he wanted to ask how having the young Slytherin here during the ordeal went, but he knew better than to draw attention to the complicated situation.

Severus's elbows were propped up on his knees and he pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping for some strength to make it through the already long day.

"I've dealt with Mr Ackerly already," he began. "As the instigator to the fight, he earned himself a detention tonight, but as the one who took the first swing you've gotten yourself two: Friday night and Sunday night in my office.

"I'm disappointed in you, Harry. You know better than this. As a seventeen year old, you need to be setting an example in this school and the behavior you showed this morning-"

"He crossed a line!" Harry threw up his arms as he defended himself. "I didn't do a single thing to him!"

Severus paused as he contemplated how much information to give the teen in front of him.

"Did you happen to read the Prophet this morning?" He asked, hoping to lead Harry to the right conclusion.

Practically rolling his green eyes, the Gryffindor replied, "I choose not to read that rubbish. Nothing good ever comes out of it… sometimes Hermione shows it to me, though."

The last part had been said grudgingly.

"Well this morning, that rubbish reported the names of those killed in the Godric's Hollow attack," the Slytherin said, unwilling to get into a debate over the validity of the paper in general. For better or worse, it was their only decent source of information, even if only half of it could be trusted to be a fraction of the truth. "Let's just say one of the victims - an elderly witch - had the surname Ackerly."

While it wouldn't excuse the taunting or bullying - for lack of a better word - the Ravenclaw bestowed on Harry, it could at least give some context to the situation.

"I didn't know," Harry responded, his eyes darting around the room as he took in the information.

"According to Filius, he didn't want anyone to know about it," Severus explained. "You can certainly understand and appreciate when information you wish to keep private gets slandered across Wizarding Britain."

"He said they're looking for me," Harry broke the silence with his statement. "I don't want to get anyone else killed."

"Look at me," Severus commanded and when Harry's eyes met his own, he tried to put as much reassurance into them as he possibly could. "They are not trying to get to you. The DMLE isn't even sure Death Eaters are responsible for that attack-" he held his hand up to quiet Harry's anticipated argument, "-yes, it's very similar to the Diagon Alley attack and those culprits are in Azkaban. There is something to be said when a crime looks almost too similar to another. I won't go through it all now, but understand there have been no official connections made between the two. Until then, all we have to go by is speculations and doing so blindly can be exceedingly dangerous."

Harry nodded his understanding, though Severus suspected it was more ceremonial. He knew Harry - now this Harry just as much as the other - enough to know he wouldn't take the words at face value. They would continue to fester beneath his skin until the teen found some ridiculous Gryffindor antic to jump into in hopes of sparing anyone else. He'd need to watch the young wizard, and somehow even more closely than he had already been doing.

Dr Swanson excused Harry from his classes for the rest of the day and made the young wizard stay in the hospital wing, much to the Gryffindor's chagrin. Severus could relate as he equally despised being stuck in the hospital wing for any given amount of time, but no matter how much Harry tried to argue being an adult wizard meant he could make his own decisions, as a child under the care of the school, he wouldn't be permitted to leave until Madam Pomfrey gave her approval. For once, Severus felt grateful for the Matron's overly cautious nature.

Severus made it to his classes for the rest the day and then spent his office hours before dinner reconfiguring his sixth year curriculum to account for the class he missed due to this incident. If he shortened the revision before their next exam - requiring the students to do more outside of the classroom - they could be back on schedule by the third week of October. Sixth years were a difficult set though in terms of trusting their ability to be responsible for their own work outside of class. Sandwiched between their O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. year - both of which typically saw students taking their studying to an almost unhealthy level - sixth years fell into one of two buckets: those who continued to burn themselves out studying at some unmanageable rate, and those who used the year as a break between the exams; rarely did he see students fall in the middle.

By dinnertime, Harry had been released from the clutches of the hospital wing. His pallor was still far more pale than Severus would have liked to see, and he clutched his side every so often - particularly when reaching across the table to serve himself food - but ultimately he would be alright. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him and assisted where he needed it, and more importantly Harry allowed it. This gave Severus time to focus on his next task of the exceedingly long day: the house meeting with his Slytherins. Having instituted required study time in the hour prior to curfew, he'd hoped to have the ability to keep a closer watch - for his prefects more than himself - over the students. Now, though, he'd need to get creative to give him the ability to watch over the house, in general, more effectively.

The former spy sat at his Defense office desk, only an hour left to get his plan together, when a knock on the door instantly drew his attention out of his turbulent thoughts.

"Come in," he called out, half annoyed to have been interrupted.

There had been many people he'd expected to see on the other side of the doorway when it opened - Harry, Draco, one of his Slytherins, even Filius to discuss Ackerly's abhorrent behavior that morning - the one person he hadn't expected was Albus. His dark navy blue robes with twinkling stars upon them reminded Severus of the late hour, and his blue eyes filled with compassion highlighted the significance to the other wizard's visit. Rarely did the headmaster step into Severus's classroom, opting to send a missive for any of his teachers to report to his office, or on a more urgent matter, the headmaster may visit his quarters; though Severus doubted Albus did so with many of the other professors. No matter how much he hated to admit it, he'd always had a particularly close relationship with the older man, a mentorship of sorts. Severus had respected him, and valued his opinion for more reasons than simply his attempt to save Lily. Those had definitely been challenged this year, post Battle of Malfoy Manor, and to say they'd fully overcome their animosity would be a lie.

"How can I help you, Albus?" The dark-haired professor asked. "I'm needed in my house in less than an hour's time."

"It's good to hear there hasn't been too much upset with your rank among your students," the headmaster commented, slowly walking into the room and standing in front of Severus still seated at his desk. The stance, combined with his hands clasped behind his back, made Severus feel as if he were the one in trouble. "I've always thought the natural balance within the Slytherins to be quite unique. It's a system that fell into place centuries ago and still organically stands to this day."

"It's currently hanging by a thread," Severus reluctantly admitted. "Draco's change in alliance has predictably created a shift in their overall structure of power. We now have certain students trying to tip the scales against him."

"Mr Harper, I presume?"

"So it seems," Severus sighed. "Outside of the issue at Hogsmeade station, several students have come to me with concerns regarding his behavior towards his housemates."

"Above and beyond what I've heard happening regarding the newest Death Eater news?"

Severus flinched at the not-so-subtle shift in conversation.

"The entire student body would benefit if you'd ban that damn, sorry excuse for a newspaper from the school grounds," he lectured.

"You know I cannot do that, my boy," Albus's eyes twinkled in sympathy, giving the Slytherin no reason not to believe he truly wished he could. The headmaster had his own struggles with the paper - and Rita Skeeter - over the years and if that hadn't forced his hand, the reporting of supposed Death Eater activity certainly wouldn't.

"Have you gotten any other information from Kingsley on that front?" He was fishing to find out the purpose of the odd visit sooner rather than later.

"They have a good lead on the responsible party from the Godric's Hollow attack," the headmaster told him, not budging from his position standing before Severus's desk. "It appears the memory retrieval process has been an integral piece-" Severus couldn't help rolling his eyes, still unsure what this new procedure would mean in the long run for investigations, "-and the DMLE has confirmed the culprits were seen in genuine Death Eater masks. Unfortunately, the Prophet's claims aren't as unsubstantiated as you may think."

"I'm telling you, there is no perceivable way -"

"I do not wish to continue arguing with you over this, Severus," Albus cut him off, making the Slytherin again feel as if he were being reprimanded. "I have to look at the information in front of me, and unfortunately it does not support your claims."

"So you'd rather believe a half-cocked reporter more interested in her rating than a former Death Eater who intimately knew how the ranks in Voldemort's reigns worked?"

"I'm going to believe what my own observations are showing me," the Gryffindor challenged. "And I would think if these attacks have even the chance of involving Harry, you would want to do everything in your power to get them under control, no matter how unlikely the scenario may be."

Of course he would, and Albus knew that. Forcing his hand into a conspiracy he didn't believe in would have lasting implications, but it appeared to be a play the headmaster was willing to risk.

"Why are you here, Albus?" He refused to give the man the satisfaction of saying he'd follow up with Lucius on Saturday at the MLD; he'd know, though, what Severus would be doing next.

The abrupt change of topic somehow triggered the headmaster to start slowly walking around the moderately sized office. He peered over at the Severus's bookshelf filled with school appropriate texts on dark magic - he held almost a library's worth of less than school appropriate texts back home at Spinner's End, as well as on the upper shelves in his quarters - and the various artefacts he had in preparation for his upcoming lessons.

"I heard you had some issues in your classroom this morning," he turned his head, giving Severus his typical 'all knowing' expression, "I merely wanted to see how Harry was doing."

"Could you have not asked him yourself?"

"Of course," Albus gave a small, sad laugh, "though I must admit, my relationship with Harry has been a bit strained after his fifth year. Not only that, I'd like to make sure you are alright with all that has happened."

The understatement of the century right there, Severus thought to himself. Rather than continue the song and dance moves with Albus, the former spy went through the incident in his classroom, outlining almost methodically and clinically the insults slung around by the pair of Ravenclaws leading up to the muggle fight. He explained about Harry's need for Dr Swanson's visit and the disciplinary measures he took - which surprisingly the headmaster approved. Never in the course of the conversation did it appear as if his judgement was being questioned; Albus knew better than to try to hide something of that nature. As they continued to talk - from Harry, to Severus's new work at the MLD, landing on the decision to continue to keep both Trelawney and Firenze on staff - when a quick look at the clock on his desk showed he only had five minutes until the start of his house meeting.

"I have to go, Albus," the younger professor proclaimed, interrupting what he assumed to be a riveting story on Firenze's latest student following. Since his addition to the school, the class sizes for Divinations had skyrocketed, "Lest I be late for my own meeting and I dare not set that precedent."

"Of course, Severus," the headmaster nodded, "do please let me know what you discover on our earlier topic, and, as always, if you need any help with the students, my door is open."

When the headmaster left, Severus still had no clue what he'd be telling his students in only a matter of minutes. How often had he lectured any number of the teens about not being prepared - specifically, if they weren't prepared the few minutes prior to class, they wouldn't be in that short amount of time. His own words came back to haunt him as he stormed from his office hoping to find some kind of guidance he could provide to his Snakes.

Perhaps if he had a clearer mind and hadn't been rushing to the dungeons, the small white kitten - the same one he continued to ponder since seeing it before Harry's chemotherapy - practically racing him down the corridor would have been a bit amusing. Instead, it weaved daringly between his heavy, yet quiet, footsteps and the professor swore at the damn thing for getting in his way. As it continued on, somehow managing to put more space between them, Severus could have sworn he saw the fluffy white head - with its bright eyes and pink nose - turn towards him with what he could only describe as a small smirk of acknowledgement, just before it darted down the stairwell into the dungeons.

Almost more frustrated from the encounter with the pesky feline, Severus made his way down the dark stairwell into the bowels of the castle. Throughout all of his years at Hogwarts - as a student and professor - plus all the plentiful trips from the upper part of the castle into the depths, he could never figure out where the line crossing under the Black Lake was actually located. Somehow, the thought of slowly descending into the expansive lake - large enough to hold an entire village of merpeople and a Giant Squid with ease - and the murky waters being on the other side of the stone walls seemed worse than seeing the green tinted water through the windows in the Slytherin Common Room, and therefore he tried not to visualize too much of it.

Suddenly, a streak of white crossed his vision as the professor reached the bottom of the stairwell and took his first step into the shadowed corridor leading towards his house. He blinked his eyes in surprise because as much as he wanted to, he couldn't deny the sight was one, Draco Malfoy, running across the corridor and now stood before him stark naked.

"Professor!" The blonde Slytherin called out shocked, covering himself at the same time Severus turned to his right; just enough to keep the teen in sight without actually seeing anything.

"You're late to our house meeting, Mr Malfoy," Severus lectured, wanting nothing more than to figure out what the hell would cause a student of Draco's caliber to end up clothless outside of his dormitory. "Care to enlighten me as to why?"

"This isn't what it looks like."

"Mr Malfoy, I'm not certain I could articulate what I think this looks like right now," he grimaced at the thought. "Are you alone?"

"Erm… yes, sir," the Malfoy heir uncharacteristically stumbled, though his eyes didn't peer off to wherever a specific, potentially-hidden Gryffindor witch could have been, so he felt inclined to believe the young wizard.

"And did you… come to this situation on your own accord?" Severus asked. "Or shall I include this incident as an example in my lecture to your housemates?"

Draco's face turned bright red; another uncharacteristic attribute to the normally stoic student.

"No… I mean, yes…" the blonde stuttered, his eyebrows furrowed down so low his eyes were almost squinted closed, then with more aggression than Severus would have expected given the situation they found themselves in, he added, "...I mean… no one did this to me."

Turning back a little more towards Draco, who to his credit had been patiently waiting for the professor to deem this either innocent enough or awkward enough to let him continue to the Common Room, Severus gave his wand a wave to conjure a plain black robe, then promptly tossed it at the young Slytherin's feet. In hindsight, the more appropriate reaction would have been to conjure up the robe when he first noticed the lack of clothing, however he got the feeling Draco's desire not to speak of this event again would ensure no harm would come from his slip of decorum.

"As we're both already late," Severus announced, "I shall give you time to get back to your dorm to get yourself settled... and decent prior to my own arrival and the start of our meeting."

Draco promptly turned - not muttering another word about their encounter - and walked away with his head held high. In the dimly lit dungeons, Severus could only make out the outline of the teen, but it provided enough to notice the blonde break out into a run as he turned the corner.

Severus would never forget his first house meeting after taking over as Head of Slytherin. He had been barely older than the seventh years, - compounded by having attended school with them during his final year - and felt no more qualified than any of the Slytherin prefects. As he built his reputation of being the hardarse professor, not willing to take excuses from anyone, facing the hundred of children at any given moment didn't concern him. He learned to embrace and feed from the power he had over them, and being a Slytherin he understood their specific needs from a Head of House. He listened without coddling, he advised on complicated situations without requiring personal details, and most importantly, he allowed the residents of the house to fall into their own balance of power. This last point was one no other professor, not even the Headmaster, could truly understand and appreciate. These students were ambitious to a fault and without the proper peer-led organization - a checks and balances so to say - they would take advantage of any situation, any chance they could get. The current situation, and his entire reason for having the house meeting to begin with, broke the normal protocol on several levels. His students had expressed their concerns directly to him, as opposed to the prefects, demonstrating they felt they could no longer trust the ranks of the house.

Standing in front of his students, with the wall of windows to his back, the professor internally struggled about how to best communicate what he needed to say; never allowing the hint of fear and doubt to creep past his blank expression.

"It has come to my attention that certain claims made by the Daily Prophet have made the life of a Slytherin in this school explicitly difficult," Severus started. His hands were clenched behind his back, not unlike Albus's were when they spoke less than an hour ago. "First, I would like to reassure everyone in attendance that your safety in the school, and specifically within these walls, is of the utmost importance to myself and to the headmaster." He ignored the snickering of disapproval from including Albus in his sentiment, and he couldn't blame them; the other wizard had let Slytherins down countless times, going back to his own Hogwarts days. "Should anyone-" his eye contact paused momentarily on the Greengrass sisters, who were able to return this year, though he'd heard their parents were no longer living together, "-find themselves in a situation where they feel their personal safety is compromised, my door remains open to you. I will do my best to work with the other Heads of Houses to rectify any misguided behavior-"

"-like you did with Potter today?" Simon Nott - Theodore's second year cousin - challenged. "From what I heard, he attacked an innocent Ravenclaw for no reason and didn't get so much as a point removed."

"As you're relatively new to our House, let me remind you we do not partake in classroom gossip," he lectured. "In response to your accusation of my own disciplinary measures in my classroom, I can tell you Oliver Ackerly instigated that particular incident, and Harry Potter was punished in a manner equally sufficient. I've left any remaining measures to Professors McGonagall and Flitwick."

"Yeah, right," he recognized the nasally voice of Jeremy Harper from the back, "like they'll really do anything. We need to stand up for ourselves!"

The collective cheers alarmed him. Had they really gotten this far gone?

"That's ridiculous," Draco spoke up but not as loud and demanding as Harper did. "We're not bloody Gryffindors, which is exactly what you'll be if you listen to him and we're all better than that."

Interestingly, Blaise was the first to nod his head, and slowly a majority of the rest followed. Severus inclined his head slightly as an acknowledgement to the Malfoy heir's continued control - however shakey it may be - in the house.

"As I cannot guarantee each professor will take the magnitude of the issue seriously, internally I have set up a mentor system," he flicked his eyes at the bulletin board near the doorway leading out of the common room, where three pages of parchment appeared, "I've created pairs between one upper year student and one or two lower years based on your course and study schedule. Effective tomorrow morning, the mentor will accompany their mentee to and from classes, the Great Hall, and the library. The mentor will also be expected to assist their mentee during our mandatory study hour nightly. I will make all the arrangements with your professors to ensure you are available for this endeavor. The chaperone duty will be temporary, until the status quo within the castle has been re-establish, though you should plan on the study partners to last until the end of term as I've been disappointed with the compliance thus far."

The noise level increased as the students craned their necks backwards in an attempt to see the parchment on the bulletin board. Severus almost rolled his eyes at their foolishness. No one would be able to see up the platform leading to the door, a distance of at least 20 meters, and if any of them could, he or she would immediately become their next Seeker.

"If we may move on," his deep voice radiated throughout the room, showing his anger for having the need to discuss this part of the meeting, "it had also come to my attention there have been disputes within our own house. Might I remind you: you are all Slytherins and as such, you will respect one another. We have to work twice as hard to shed the judgement cast upon us and cannot afford to crumble from within. I expect better from every single one of you, and though I may not be able to control how other Heads of House handle their students, you are under my authority. I guarantee you, should I find that anyone is bringing harm to one of our own, I will personally see to it that the threat is permanently removed."

He paused to allow any protests, and this time not a single person spoke up against him. They knew he took his role as their Head of House seriously, would do anything possible to keep his students safe, and certainly had the means to get any of them at least expelled at any given moment. Hopefully, his warning would be enough and they wouldn't have to revisit this topic of conversation again.

If Severus said he hadn't been surprised when sometime around eleven o'clock that night the name Draco Malfoy popped up on a piece of parchment before him, it would be a lie. After their encounter in the corridor earlier, he expected to see very little of the Malfoy heir, yet there in his hands he held the notification showing the teen stood outside the professor's door. On his way to answer the door, he had to push back the disappointment of the notification not being from Mae. Though he'd be seeing her again on Saturday night, Severus found himself thinking more about her during whatever free time he had and anxiously awaiting their next phone call. It annoyed him to no end - a woman having this type of effect on him - and yet, at the same time, he didn't want to walk away from whatever they were building.

"May I remind you, Mr Malfoy, you are no longer a prefect," Severus greeted his student, "and therefore you do not have permission to be out after curfew, nor would you be delivering news of an emergency."

"May I come in?"

Draco, dressed down in a green muggle jumper and pair of black jeans - an odd sight for someone previously known as the Slytherin Prince - shifted his weight when he made his request. Outside of Harry, under normal circumstances Severus wouldn't allow a student into his personal quarters. His connection with Draco, however, was far from falling under what would be considered "normal circumstances", and though the teen was no longer considered Severus's protége, he still felt responsible for the young wizard's well-being.

"I should at least deduct points for this," Severus pressed the heels of his hands into his tired eyes and moved aside to allow Draco entry.

"But you won't," the teen arrogantly claimed walking into the sitting room. The last time they both had been in these rooms together had been before his kidnapping. At the time, neither of them knew what would be in store for them, and even if they had, it wasn't the kind of thing someone could prepare for.

Torn between not wanting to encourage this behavior and needing something to help calm his own nerves from the day, Severus flicked his wand and a pot of tea he'd previously been preparing came levitating into the sitting room: two cups and saucers behind it. He hastily served the two of them tea and then took a refreshing sip.

"Is there an agenda for this late night rendezvous?"

"I wanted to thank you for pairing me up with Hala," Draco didn't lift his head from staring at the cup in his hand as he said it. "I know she's mentioned some… concerns about being alone with several of our housemates. They don't really like her much."

"I am well aware of her situation within the school," Severus admitted, unable to provide the first year's mentor with much more information. Unlike other houses, Slytherins were careful with their trust, only giving one chance because they refused to be burned twice, and Severus refused to lose any of the trust they confided in him. In addition to that, though, for this particular situation, Hala had met with him the other day on Draco's behalf - worried because she thought she'd overheard Harper talk about sabotaging the Malfoy heir - and that was something he did not want to advertise. So he'd let Draco believe their pairing had more to do with her than him. "And how did you feel about the meeting overall?"

"Well, it certainly had its intended effect," Draco responded. "More than half the house was up in arms about it."

"Those would be the students I need to keep a closer watch on," Severus commented, already having a good list of those who would be against this type of action. "With any luck, this will be just enough to remind the instigators I am still in control of things and they're under close scrutiny."

"We heard the message loud and clear," Draco said, "but you better have a contingency plan because first it's mandatory study time, and now a forced mentorship… there's bound to be some resistance."

"That's what I am hoping for. It will give me a better idea of what exactly I'm dealing with and then I can make alterations as needed to curb as much violence as possible."

A neutral silence fell between them as the two Slytherins continued their tea. He had to remind himself Draco was still only seventeen, and regardless of how much he and Harry had been through, the blonde was still too young to be dealing with these issues. They should be thinking about their future, excited at the prospect of starting their careers, and eventually a family. How long would it take for the next generation of students to be able to enjoy their school year almost carefree?

"I saw you helping with Harry this morning," Severus eventually said.

Based on Draco's immediate change in posture - his shoulders stiffening, his wide jaw clenching, and the tea cup passing between his hands - Severus knew the change of topic made the other Slytherin uncomfortable. Once again he found himself torn between doing what the teen needed, and what made him comfortable. Severus wouldn't back away from a challenge; that had been the only Gryffindor trait in his body and it stemmed more from his own stubborn pride rather than any righteousness.

"It's my job." The words were barely audible.

"I'm sure Dr Swanson provided you with some decent information about muggle medicine," he chose to phrase it as a statement, knowing Draco would answer.

"It's bloody barbaric!" The blonde called out. "And no pun intended. I could have fixed his nose with an elementary healing spell even Longbottom could do and sent him on his way before Madam Pomfrey had returned. Even if it had been broken! A broken nose isn't much different than say… a broken finger."

"And you've repaired a broken finger?"

His pale face grimaced. "I never realized how much the non-Seeker positions get injured until that first Quidditch game working with Madam Pomfrey. By the end, I could do a pretty painless Episkey with my eyes closed."

"This suits you," he added, building up Draco's comfort level. "I've rarely seen you this animated discussing something as mundane as healing."

"I think you mean plebeian," he grumbled back, then placed his tea cup on its saucer on top of the table in front of him and leaned over, resting his arms on his legs, "but I'm over it. I don't want to push pawns around like my father anymore. I can't do that. Hermione deserves better-" he paused and Severus waited; the objection sat on the tip of tongue, "-I deserve better."

Satisfied with the answer, Severus barely took a breath as he asked, "And things with you and Harry?"

"Ha! He accused me of not knowing how to run a diagnostic spell," the teen lemented. "I'll be the first to admit, based on the amount of blood, I half expected his nose to be shattered… he should be grateful it wasn't, but no! He acted almost as if he wanted his nose to be broken… Maybe he did? Maybe it's a Gryffindor badge of honor, I dunno… we don't exactly talk anymore."

The pseudo-diatribe was more than either of the wizards had said about the other since their rescue. They may not have been face to face as often with Harry's change of class roster, but that didn't mean out of sight, out of mind. No, contrary to what they both wanted to happen between them, it was only a matter of time until something acted as a catalyst to their mutual reconciliation. Severus could only hope it would happen sooner rather than later so they could all put the last piece of their time at Malfoy Manor behind them once and for all. When Harry and Draco could speak on proper terms again, Severus would be able to breathe easy knowing things were finally healing.