~~~~SS~~~~

Monday, 20 October 1997

Although Severus loved that the kitchen on the AYA floor gave him constant access to coffee - for the times when caregivers found themselves needing to stay awake at odd hours of the night with their sick child, like he did last night, or so they wouldn't miss out on important news from a procedure being done - the prospect of good coffee was almost enough to perk him up as he snuck out of Harry's room while the teen continued to sleep; because there was no way Lucius Malfoy would choose a location in Muggle London to meet for coffee for anything but good coffee. He'd always been a tea drinker, having enjoyed matching the expansive varieties to his mood or current state in a fashion similar to his potions, and only picked up coffee in his recent life - a beverage born from the necessity to combat the late nights up with his first son. Most parents fell into the same trap, though typically earlier in their parenthood journey due to broken sleep associated with a waking newborn rather than a dying teenager. Somehow he managed to exchange one sleepless phase for another, specifically for one he'd hoped no parent would ever experience, and yet the mediocre coffee in the AYA kitchen forever linked him to the other caregivers - mostly the teens' biological parents - he'd seen wandering the corridor in the same half-dazed stupor.

Harry didn't fall asleep until almost two o'clock in the morning after being visited by the night nurse - Severus made a point to do a better job remembering their names going forward - with a set of earplugs and an eye mask for them. Those little things, the ways to help make them feel more comfortable or more at home, he appreciated the most from the hospital and their staff. It would be all too easy for someone who worked there day in and day out to feel immune to the changing emotions going on in their rooms. Nevertheless, every time Severus saw a nurse in the corridors or when they came to help out in Harry's room, they were always friendly and willing to go the extra step to assist the assumed father and son. Never would he be able to fully show his level of gratitude to those men and women.

Now halfway through their stay in the Guildford hospital, Severus could easily see how the constant treatment was quickly wearing Harry down. His almost constant pain - varying only in degrees of severity than its presence or absence - was enough to make Severus want to disconnect every line running into his weak, pale body and take him home to Spinner's End. If he could, he'd spend every waking moment in his cellar laboratory brewing any and every kind of potion needed to save him. Except, he'd done that already and it failed in the worst way possible. Somehow standing in the shadow of his misery last night, the reality of his own incompetence - even if he had been following the instructions laid out for him by the St Mungo's potioneers - aiding in his child's death was practically suffocating and no matter how hard he tried to tell himself this Harry wasn't dying from his cancer, that his current situation was caused by fighting against it, he was brought back to his old quarters in his old reality sitting by his son's bedside, waiting. Having started this new journey with Harry's own very vocal fear of not being strong enough to handle it, Severus worried it was only a matter of time before he quit. In an effort to do everything possible to prevent that from happening, he resolved to discuss the matter with their social worker later that afternoon, even if it felt wrong to ask for a stranger's help on this. Thankfully, the social worker wasn't scheduled to arrive until three o'clock in the afternoon. Late enough not only for Harry to hopefully be awake and moving but just as important to give Severus enough time to return from his meeting with Lucius first thing in the morning.

Refusing to show up to any meeting with the aristocratic Slytherin in less than perfect attire, Severus woke up around five - leaving him on less than three hours of consecutive sleep - to make a quick trip back to Spinner's End for a decent shower and to dress in his best set of muggle clothing. He deemed this extra step well worth the hour of precious sleep lost because any way he could aid himself in feeling more confident and in control, the better; even if it were only an illusion. And so he walked out of his previously broken down-home looking completely out of place in an all-black buttoned-up shirt - the long sleeves covering his fading, but still very visible, Dark Mark - and black trousers. With his hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck, he managed to convince himself he looked like a blend between a muggle businessman and a rich tourist, a success as that was the goal after all. As he made his way into the dark, empty alley beside his home to disapparate into muggle London, he placed his hand protectively over the left breast pocket of his long black dress coat - transfigured from an old tattered blanket - where he stowed his wand. Though the ebony tool never left his reach, the confirmation of its convenient location should anything nefarious be attempted eased his anxious mind.

Severus was surprised by the crowd - mostly couples he imagined taking a last-minute holiday for a long weekend - already gathering in the streets at the predawn Monday morning hour. The sun had barely crept over the horizon, leaving the street lamps responsible for illuminating the damp street. Luckily, as the sky shifted from dark to light it appeared as if the storms that raged most of the night lifted from the area and left the promise of a bright and sunny day. If things went well, he would only experience it from the window of Harry's hospital room, otherwise… well, he didn't want to think about if things went badly with the Malfoy patriarch in the next couple of hours.

The small coffee house sat on the edge of Millennium Pier with the Thames flowing behind it, Wharfinger Cottage pillared at its left, and the infamous Tower of London nearly right in front of it, making it a seemingly popular destination for tourists, and Severus wondered how often they flocked to the open cafe on rainy days like yesterday - and roughly thirty percent of the year in London - without even a structure or a well placed impervious charm to protect them. Being able to almost seamlessly straddle the line between the muggle and magical world meant Severus could appreciate the things magical households sometimes took for granted, like how a simple charm negated the need for a separate raincoat and boots or an umbrella which couldn't guarantee to keep its user dry. Of course, with most of his business coming from visitors, the proprietor of the establishment hadn't randomly guessed when selecting this location; he'd know his clientele wouldn't let the rain damper their vacation plans and would still seek out much-needed coffee, sandwiches, and pastries along the way.

Despite being busier than he anticipated, finding Lucius wasn't difficult, though he never really thought it would be. The older wizard was one of those types who could blend in when he wanted or stand out just as easily. The man - dressed in an exquisite black muggle suit - stood at the far edge of the coffee shop's perimeter holding two takeaway paper coffee cups, immediately putting Severus on edge. Though he picked up quite a refined coffee habit over the years, it wasn't his inability to select his own brew which caused him concern, but what else could be lingering inside of it, added once Lucius took possession of it. Their eyes met and before the professor had a chance to approach, Lucius gave a small, practically imperceptible nod towards the river behind him. They would be taking their coffee, and meeting, where they could have a touch more privacy from the soon-to-be even more bustling tourist district.

He followed a plain paved walk until he reached a set of benches facing away from the street and towards the river. Later in the day, once the sun warmed up the crisp October air a little more, scenic cruises would travel up and down the waterway giving her passengers a sweeping view of the iconic sights of the city. Lily's family had taken her on one during a celebratory weekend in honor of her father's new job once he'd decided to leave the Cokeworth mill. It was the summer before their fourth year and she'd spent days telling him about the London Eye, Big Ben, and the Tower of London all visible during their luncheon down the iconic waterway. Since then, even though he never had a knack for English history - muggle or wizarding - he wanted to take one, and yet sometime during the decades following the war, he'd never made it a priority. Perhaps he thought it would remind him too much of his past self listening to his best friend - his only one until recently - animatedly describing it all and that memory would be too painful to drag up. Those years between Lily's death and Harry coming into his life were some of his hardest, at least until it became filled with cancer and potions and now muggle chemotherapy.

To any onlookers, the bench Lucius chose could have been at random; not all the way at the end of the line, yet not the closest nor the exact middle. Severus, though, knew better. He wouldn't pick a location without first exploring the surroundings and making sure it fit his needs. Lucius had chosen this coffee stand - one where Severus hadn't gotten to secure his own beverage - and this bench for a very specific reason. The location didn't necessarily block them from others' view, but should anyone care to turn their way they could easily pass as colleagues meeting up prior to an important Monday business venture, getting one last rehearsal of the idea they'd be pitching in a matter of hours or discussing funding they needed to secure. No one would guess they were planning for the contingency of the dark-haired businessman getting arrested for attempting to murder his own students. No one ever thought things like that happened around them, especially during their family holiday.

"I do believe you're starting to perfect the exhausted look, Severus," Lucius greeted him, and feigning an offered handshake, placed a set of privacy wards around them. "When was the last time you'd gotten some decent rest?"

Knowing he'd inevitably be giving up plenty of his vulnerabilities and unwilling to get into his own struggles, Severus unceremoniously sat down on the bench beside his friend without uttering a word of retort. Taking the offered cup - not making the slightest move of a first sip - he casually stated, "An interesting location for this type of conversation. Do you frequently visit muggle London for tourist coffee?"

Lucius gave a small smile, recognizing the olive branch for what it was and satisfied the former spy hadn't lost his skills.

"Dr Cobb's office is roughly two blocks to the East of here," Lucius uncharacteristically pointed behind him, "and I frequently find myself here either prior to or post-appointment."

Though the explanation of how the Malfoy Pureblood chose such an establishment gave some insight into Lucius's intention, it did little to calm the professor's nerves. This was still his ground, and a place only one of them was familiar with, which Severus vehemently did not like.

Cutting the pleasantries, Severus held out his cup of coffee and asked, "What's in this? I presume Veritaserum, however, I'd like confirmation before handing over my innermost secrets to just anyone."

Without speaking a word, Lucius pulled a glass phial from his inner coat pocket Severus immediately recognized as the truth serum. What it didn't answer was if the serum had already been mixed into his beverage or not. That answer would set the tone for the rest of their meeting.

"There's nothing in there yet," the blonde confirmed, allowing the professor to breathe just a bit easier. "I respect you too much to hide it from you, Severus, though I do hope you understand the need for me to protect my investments. One of my top potioneers as a key suspect in a plan to murder his students - one of whom is my son - certainly would bring the wrong sort of attention to our cause. Either you agree to the potion or you do not, and in the case of the latter I'm afraid we'll need to make alternate arrangements for your employment."

"I could give you my resignation," Severus threatened. "Then you have no reason to investigate my life."

"While true, I would challenge that I also have no reason to outrightly help you. When it's all said and done, I don't think either of us wants to see your talent wasted any more than it already is at that school. We value you, and regardless of your stubborn pride, you know I can provide you with a defense you cannot even begin to fathom, let alone afford, should it come down to needing it." Lucius paused, giving his next words careful thought. "Careers aside, you also need to answer the question, what would happen to Harry should you face time in Azkaban?"

Severus sat completely still. There was something in Lucius's voice not quite matching the words and message he'd just heard. The man was concerned - Severus might even go as far as to say worried - but he highly doubted it had to do with the MLD or their work done within it, but throwing in Harry's well being certainly did not coincide with the other wizard's modus operandi, leaving him confused over the other wizard's intentions for this interrogation. Despite his instincts screaming at him to be wary, his need to keep Harry, and by extension himself, safe won out in the end. Therefore, against his better judgement, he silently opened the lid of his coffee cup, revealing the substance his mind desperately craved, its aroma rising temptingly from the cup into his nose, and shifted it closer to his companion. Lucius uncorked the Veritaserum and tipped the phial over Severus's cup until two drops - a testament to their friendship by withholding the damaging third - fell into the black liquid. By diluting the potion into his beverage to be drunk slowly over their meeting, Severus wouldn't get the glazed-over, instantaneous revealing of all his truths, rather he'd be granted the feeling of a looser tongue when probed for information, not too unlike intoxication. This was not only preferred, given the number of secrets Severus held in his mind, it was the only way he would agree to the procedure, to begin with; a fact Lucius had to have anticipated. It served as a compromise and an unspoken promise not to take advantage - or at least not any more than a true Slytherin could be expected to - of things that may be said under the serum. Lifting the cup to his lips, the professor took a tentative sip, caring more for the caffeine embedded in the liquid than the potion as there was honestly very little Lucius didn't already know at least something about.

The sun finally rose enough to see the sights around him, and whether it was the Veritaserum or just the time away from his hectic life, Severus felt a serenity within him that he hadn't experienced since before his son's terminal diagnosis. The couples walking hand-in-hand, taking in the sights London had to offer along the river paid them no attention, but they left the professor yearning deeply to feel that carefree with Mae; no double jobs, no cancer treatments to organize, and most of all, no more lying about his magical life. He considered walking away from it all - a definite side effect of the Veritaserum, digging up his most realistic view of himself and his life. He could do it: just close his eyes, think of a destination far away, and disapparate to start a new life. It would be simple. He didn't require a lot, and he'd lived so much of his adult life in different roles - Voldemort's spy, Dumbledore's spy, a professor, a father - the lies to assume a new identity would flow easily from his lips. In the cold crisp breeze of the river, his mind practically getting drunk from the truth serum running through it, he could almost feel the instant satisfaction he'd get from releasing the heavy burden off his shoulders and the validation in finally getting the break he so rightly deserved. But a breath later the rest of his sad story fell into place and he knew he'd never truly be happy. He'd miss Harry… and Mae since she couldn't come with him on this pseudo-adventure… but it felt good to dream about it and he was relieved to know that during the time he was forced to be true to himself, he chose to stay in the end.

It took a total of six sips for the Veritaserum to loosen his mouth, matching that of his mind, enough to ask, "Do you believe I had anything to do with it? That I would try to sabotage my own students, not to mention Diagon Alley and Godric's Hollow seeing as we've confirmed those connected?"

He grimaced at the sound of betrayal laced in his voice. Since his mind truly believed he'd been betrayed by those he'd fought for - the Order, the aurors, and Lucius - he had no hope in hiding the emotion he normally would never show.

"I see we're ready to get started," the blonde smirked and pulled out a sphere not too unlike the one he'd given Harry for when the Gryffindor needed help. He placed it carefully between them on the bench and waved his hand over the top causing it to glow neon green. "You don't mind my recording our little chat, correct? I'll need some sort of record to provide to my solicitor."

"Of course I mind," Severus honestly spat back, "however I haven't much of a choice if I'm to get the help I need and keep the job I enjoy." His face heated up with embarrassment. "It's fine."

"How's Harry?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Tsk, tsk tsk, paranoid, aren't we? I'm simply making conversation as we get warmed up," Lucius answered, taking a sip of his own coffee, prompting Severus to automatically follow. "I take it your little endeavor worked, then?"

"It did," Severus admitted, willing himself to stop there, of course, the more of his coffee he drank the harder it would be to do so, "his magic is blocked, but this is far from over. As you know he'll have to repeat the ritual in January and that's if he doesn't give up on the whole notion before then. These last two days have been awful for him."

"You need-"

"What I need-" Severus angrily interrupted, "-is to find a way his magic can help him! I need more time so I can do my damn job and figure out how to utilize his magic which should have prevented this in the first place!"

"Is that an offer to come work at the lab full-time?"

Leave it to Lucius to try to work out a deal amidst an interrogation.

"I want to work there full-time," another sip of his coffee crossed his lips, the more he drank, the more he spoke, and the more he wanted to drink the beverage, "but I need to stay at Hogwarts for my students." So consumed in his own mind, the professor missed the blonde's eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. A pained expression crossed his face as he tried to explain why he believed he had to stay at the school, "They need me, and Harry needs his friends."

"By 'your students'," Lucius suspiciously clarified, "do you mean your Defense class or your Slytherins?"

"Technically both," It took Severus longer than he expected to answer. "My students in the classroom haven't seen a consistent professor in years and I feel like I'm finally getting through to some of the idiotic lot of them, but I meant my Slytherins. Someone tried to drown them! How can you, or Albus, expect me to leave at a time like this?!"

"Did Albus ask you to step down?"

"No." He didn't hesitate, he didn't need to, had no reason to attempt to lie. "He told me he'd work around Harry's treatment schedule. Let's see how long that lasts through... Harry will be lucky to be back at school by the weekend and will Albus really be accepting of me taking a full week off out of every three? And then where would that leave me or my Defense class?"

In the dark, deep recesses of his mind, Severus knew his colleague could have taken advantage of him - gained sensitive or embarrassing information to use as leverage later - which was why Lucius's next question surprised him.

"Do you know who attacked the Slytherin Common Room?"

"I'd give anything to know," without thinking, he took another long sip of his coffee. The heat of the liquid against the cold air burned in a way he needed to stay grounded in the present. "Warming charm?" He lifted the half-empty cup in question, to which Lucius gave a small nod.

"I don't know who was responsible for any of it," Severus admitted, trying to contain the pain and panic within his chest. "As you know, Albus thinks it's Death Eaters, but I cannot fathom why they'd try to kill the children most likely to have eventually joined them."

"You must have some idea?" The blonde suggested. "Think, Severus, if it were you, why would you do this?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, fighting the Veritaserum, so he could think clearly to determine if he was walking into a trap. By imprinting his own thoughts on the matter, would it assume him guilty?

"I didn't do this," he reiterated, almost pleading. "I haven't the reason, the resources, the time, nor the energy. I'm barely holding on-"

"I understand," the other Slytherin cut him off, selecting his words carefully, relieving the professor from his future embarrassment by confessing his innermost vulnerability.

A pregnant pause fell over the pair of wizards, who were being completely ignored by the muggles passing behind them. Every so often a couple would approach their small section of the river and watch longingly down the waterway.

"I'd do it for revenge," Severus eventually stated, drinking the last of his coffee, more than ready for the conversation to be over, but knowing the last drops gone from his drink wouldn't instantly release him from the potion; he'd have to wait for it to metabolize through his system. "If I'm a Death Eater who's gone to Azkaban for supporting my cause, I'd probably try to sabotage those who didn't. Either physically removing them from the equation or by landing them into Azkaban as well."

Something about that statement felt right to him. It would need to wait to be examined, though, as his mind couldn't focus enough to work through the details.

"How would that be possible from Azkaban?"

Lucius made a good point, and one Severus knew he'd get to if given enough time to consider the situation.

"The Dementors aren't guarding all of the prisoners anymore, correct?" The professor asked with a hint of excitement.

"I'm sure our new confidant, Samson, could give you more details," Lucius spat the name out like poison, "however I do believe I recall at least one headline over the summer announcing their demotion to only securing the highest of offenders. Though I would suspect owning a Dark Mark would qualify, negating your theory."

He shook his head, feeling his cold black hair hit his face. "I'm right, though," an honest declaration he wouldn't have said out loud had it not been for the Veritaserum, "we need to find Jugson and Gibbons first and see what they know. Whether they're behind it or being targeted, they're our best source for information. We should also try to get a roster of Voldemort's followers - especially those who are Marked - and start working our way through their relatives. They would be highly motivated for revenge, or potentially have access to those locked away in Azkaban."

Lucius's grey eyes narrowed, but he continued to stare straight ahead at the river, "Are you planning on bringing this information to Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Severus surprised himself with the answer given their recent animosity. "Though we've been… at odds lately… he needs to know what's going on so he doesn't continue to waste his effort attempting to find the rise of the next Dark Lord."

An evil chuckle came from beside him, "If this is the coming of the next Dark Lord, I hoped he'd be a little less obvious over it all."

Perhaps those were the words he should have used with Albus over the summer to emphasize how much he didn't believe there would be a reemergence of Death Eater formation. What made Voldemort particularly dangerous - in addition to his manipulative and psychopathic tendencies - was how slowly he came into power. He built so much of his regime, like the Horcrux situation, in the shadows, when he finally stepped forward the wizarding world didn't stand much of a chance. Loathe as he was to admit it, had it not been for the prophecy the megalomaniac would have probably taken over shortly after November 1981. Working both sides, Severus knew first hand how Voldemort had all his pieces in place to take over the ministry, and the Order didn't have enough wand power to stop him. Through luck or fate, if one believed it, Lily's sacrifice for Harry saved them all from a very dark future. The point, though, was that he didn't get dangerous overnight or by making loud, public spectacles long before he had the infrastructure in place to support his cause.

The conversation shifted drastically away from the general "happenings" and towards Severus's direct involvement, and for the next half an hour or so, the professor answered his part-time employer's pointed questions regarding his actions leading up to and during the flood. Not once did he try to trick the Veritaserum or attempt to lie, as he knew this was his best option for freedom should Samson's final report indicate him as their leading suspect. He didn't think about what would happen if the aurors came around the school during one of the few lessons he could manage to teach to arrest him for the attempted murder of his own house, or worse while he stayed with Harry in the hospital, surrounded by muggles. Could the magical law enforcement arrest someone in a muggle establishment? He knew that answer without needing to dig too hard, the liaison office existed for a reason, after all. As the potion worked its way through Severus, his mind started to clear enough to gain one very important observation: although Lucius had legitimate concerns over the professor's innocence, by the end Severus managed to appease him enough to ease away those concerns.

Unwilling to leave the bench - and safety of the security wards - with even the smallest hint of Veritaserum left in his system, their conversation shifted from a possible defense to a casual update on life in general. Lucius stopped the recording sphere, then began by handing him a set of notes to review from his pod on their latest batch of potion chemotherapy. Unfortunately, with Harry's magical core completely blocked, even if they could get a usable potion fast-tracked to production, he'd never see a drop of it. Flipping through the notes, aided by the last bit of truth serum, Severus told his friend how much he felt he'd failed his sons; both of them. His heart was still one hundred percent into his research, but the regret over it being too late for Harry to utilize sat like a hazy cloud over his mind. As promised, his work would be there for him whenever he could make it into the laboratory again; flexibility he didn't expect, but appreciated, and hoped his teammates would be as forgiving.

Bringing up Harry's lack of magic transitioned them into a quick discussion about the plan for the Gryffindor's classes. It was obvious without magic Harry couldn't attend with his classmates - at any of the levels - and when Severus mentioned the possibility of muggle classes, Lucius countered it with Draco's private tutoring to prepare him for muggle university. Hogwarts, unfortunately, left much to be desired in preparing students for continuing education in the muggle world, and so for Draco to have any chance at succeeding in his muggle medical degree, he needed to be filled in on a lifetime of mathematics, history, technology, and most importantly, science. Severus freely admitted his pod's lack in the latter subject put them at a large disadvantage in fighting muggle diseases. In the end, Lucius offered to include Harry in Draco's Foundations classes should he want to either prepare for a muggle university or simply need something to keep his mind busy. Not wanting to be any more indebted to the Malfoy family, he naturally declined under the guise he'd handle the arrangements independently, but the man insisted and in his exhausted state Severus found himself agreeing to discuss it with Minerva and Albus.

When he lied about looking forward to the Halloween Ball, Severus knew the Veritaserum had finally worn off completely and the time had come for him to return to Guildford. By the time he would arrive back, Harry would be mid-treatment, and they had the social worker planning to visit later in the afternoon. It would take all of his resolve - and the invigorating draft Lucius handed to him as he stood to take his leave - to make it through the day, but he'd do it, and hopefully, they could have a low key evening between the social worker's visit and treatment that night.

"Who's guarding the general prisoners?" Severus turned to ask Lucius who made no move to leave the riverside with the professor.

"I beg your pardon?"

"In Azkaban," Severus clarified, "if the dementors are only assigned to the highest security prisoners, then who is guarding the rest?"

Giving one of his signature half-smiles, Lucius sighed and responded slyly, "Last I heard the aurors rotate to and from the island on guard duty. There hasn't been any news stating how long the procedure will be in place, though I can assume the aurors are not happy with their latest assignment. Just imagine poor Nymphadora Tonks working guard crew to a bunch of common criminals. They'll be breakouts faster than you can say Quidditch."

"Let's hope she puts her auror training to good use, then" Severus replied. Not giving so much as a glance back at the other wizard, he turned on his heels and walked briskly back the way he came to disapparate home, change out of his formal clothing, and get back into something more appropriate for the rest of his day. Families of all sizes now joined the plethora of tourists crowding the streets ready to start their day of sightseeing, none of whom paid any attention to the single man, clad in all black, weaving in and out of the spaces between them. Though he moved with all the grace of someone planning his moves three steps ahead of those around him, Severus's mind only had two thoughts:

What an awful time to be an auror.

and

Thank Merlin Harry can no longer become one.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry stood nervously outside of the blue double doors running his trembling hand up and down his IV pole holding his various medications for the morning, seriously debating why he'd thought this would be a good idea. He was pretty sure none of the dozen kids on the other side of the window saw him approaching, making it easy to turn around, go back to his bedroom, and pretend the idea never popped into his head in the first place. A heavy shiver ran up his spine, leaving the young wizard cold but sweating, and questioning if he had anything warmer to wear besides the soft pair of black jogging bottoms, his doubled up plain gray t-shirt underneath the new jumper Mrs Weasley had given to Snape yesterday, and slippers he'd put on after his morning's pre-chemotherapy shower. In the back of his mind, he knew it wouldn't have mattered, though, because the cold that ran through him wasn't caused by the chilled hospital air; he was plain old nervous.

Harry really didn't mind Snape being gone for the second day in a row. Prior to the overnight nurse bringing them each a set of earplugs - an item Harry had embarrassingly forgotten his friends gave him last Friday night - and an eye mask, the professor mentioned his need to be gone early in the morning, though he didn't share the details as to why. So when Harry woke up at half-past six, the sun still missing from the sky keeping his room an eerily dark, to Snape gone, he wasn't overly concerned. The four and a half hours of continuous sleep left him feeling more rejuvenated than he'd ever expected, but he couldn't help wondering how little sleep Snape was running on; sure he'd still been awake when Harry had found sleep, and obviously up before the young wizard. Safety was Harry's first worry about his mentor - disapparating when overtired had to be as dangerous as falling asleep driving - with his mental status coming in as a close second. Those nights plagued with nightmares and visions from Voldemort had always left Harry irritable from lack of sound sleep.

The last thing the hospital needs is an irritable Severus stalking around, Harry chuckled.

The idea to attend the support group had been subconsciously planted in the back of Harry's mind since he first learned of the group meetings, but at the time he had already dismissed it, giving himself a plethora of excuses why he couldn't, or wouldn't, attend: his stay was comparatively short and he'd feel out of place popping in on their well-established sessions, it was scheduled in the middle of his three-hour treatment and he didn't think he could be up and moving, and the most damaging, he didn't need the group because he had everything under control. However, the message written on his whiteboard in big red letters, Support Group 9:30 am - Hub, greeted him when he turned his light on and reinforced the idea, and sometime during his shower, nestled between Dr Swanson's exam for his chemotherapy and the start of his morning treatment, he'd come up with the courage to actually attend, leading him to his current predicament. He told himself had Snape been there, or at least returned before the start of the meeting, he wouldn't have gotten dressed in half-decent clothing to go wandering down the corridor, and instead would have stayed put in his room passing the hours anyway he could. Perhaps the professor planned to be away specifically to get Harry up and moving? Doubtful, but he wouldn't completely discount the idea; he had done a lot less manipulative things throughout the year.

A loud sea of voices flowing from the doorway leading into the Hub could be heard long before Harry reached the window overlooking the room. Standing in front of the window, he watched the other teens congregate around the far table talking to one another in a way that painfully reminded him of the Gryffindor table at the Welcoming Feast; when everyone was excitedly catching up with friends they hadn't spoken with all summer and starting the new year.

Community. A word Harry started to hate for no other reason than how often he thought about it and how relevant it became in his life in such a short amount of time.

Watching the group of teens, Harry furrowed his brows as it hit him what was so odd about the scene. When he arrived on Saturday and was given his tour, he could have sworn the nurse - Gerrie, he recalled, surprising himself as there had been so many new faces and names to try and remember - told him there were only six patients on the floor. So then where did the other five or so come from? Had more kids been admitted in a matter of days? It didn't fully make sense because while more than half of them were dressed similar to himself, the rest wore what he would describe as "non-hospital clothing" - a phrase he was sure no one else would understand other than the teens he nervously waited to join - and had no IV lines running into their bodies.

"Your first time?"

The voice from behind Harry caused him to physically jump and turn around so quickly he almost lost his balance. Fortunately, the person who asked the question - a man around Snape's age with dark brown eyes and short muggle style hair, wearing a collared green shirt and grey trousers - reached out to help steady the teen so he wouldn't tumble to the ground. Harry's face heated up, this was definitely not how he expected to start the day.

"Erm… thanks," he said, making sure his feet were planted securely on the ground. The man didn't say anything, nor did he make any attempt to move around Harry, he just stood watching him cautiously. Looking back into the doorway, Harry added, "I'm, uh, not sure about… that yet."

The man's eyes didn't leave Harry, causing him to shift his weight in his uneasiness. "Well, for what it's worth, you've made it this far already," the man rationalized to him, "you might as well go in. And if you're uncomfortable speaking, you don't have to say a word during the time we're together. It might surprise you what you can gain from just being around others in your situation."

The familiar words washed over Harry and he felt stupid for not picking up on it sooner: this was the counselor for the support group… and he was currently blocking the man's way to get into The Hub. Turning back to the kids inside of the room, he couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy tinged with sorrow over missing his friends. He could almost imagine this was him and his friends sitting in the Common Room or out in the courtyard killing time before their next class. Three boys, who were obviously comfortable around each other, sat at the table playing cards while a group of girls was animatedly talking in a set of transparent plastic chairs near them every so often looping one of the blokes into the conversation; against their will based on the expressions upon their faces. A boy around his own age sat off to the side in a plush chair looking so miserably ill Harry questioned why he'd come feeling like that, and an even younger boy was reading off on his own - far enough away from the rest that Harry questioned if he was attending the support group. The set of teens may have looked odd at first, but to Harry, they reminded him of where he could be if he let go of his stubborn pride. Outside of mourning his temporary loss of magic and the world he yearned to stay a part of, all of these teens had started out no different than him - scared, isolated, and determined to do this alone - and they'd managed to overcome their obstacles to find their community. The fact that roughly half of the teens came back to the hospital to attend helped sway his decision because it demonstrated how much value they saw in these sessions. Pulling upon his Gryffindor bravery, Harry nodded his head and made his way through the doorway for the first time, relishing in the warmth - both in temperature and ambiance - radiating to him from the room.

No one looked up as Harry slowly approached the other teenagers. Never in his life could he remember being shy, even back in primary school where Dudley made certain the other kids stayed far away from him. Back then, Harry stood his ground, refusing to be bullied and though he didn't have any friends, it wasn't from lack of effort on his part. Walking into the room filled with kids who clearly had built a relationship and rapport he didn't know if wanted to be a part of making him feel vulnerable in a way he'd never experienced; a way he hated.

"Hey, Dr Michael!" One of the older boys playing cards called out over Harry's head. He was one who obviously was a current patient, wearing a set of clothes not too unlike Harry's own and had an IV running into his shirt. He didn't even glance towards Harry as the counselor approached from behind. "Didja hear, I get to go home this week!"

The doctor smiled, "I saw the note before I came over here, Charlie." Harry's breath hitched at the name as images of Charlie Weasley's death - at the hands of Draco and Voldemort during the blonde's initiation to earn his Dark Mark - flooded his vision. "Miss Rosier and I scheduled some time on Wednesday to meet with you and your mother about the transition. We can go over some of the details then."

Harry shook his head back to the present, pushing the panic aside as the chattering in the room grew almost exponentially with the arrival of their counselor. Feeling like a fool still standing there, Harry pointed to one of the blue chairs and asked, "May I sit here?"

The talking abruptly ceased and all the sets of eyes turned towards him.

"It's all yours," the kid, Charlie, answered.

The plastic bucket chair was deceptively comfortable and Harry released a sigh of relief to be off of his feet. The walk, followed by his stance outside of the room, and the overall stress of the morning had taken more out of him than he cared to admit.

"You're in number six, right?" One of the girls, two or three years older than him asked. "I'm Allie, by the way, number four."

"Erm," Harry's hands fidgeted on the top of the table, his nerves making him feel more shaky than usual, "yeah… room six. I just got here on Saturday."

"Number six?" The smaller girl next to Allie piped up, "Is that your dad with you? He's absolutely terrifying."

"You can't just say that kind of stuff!" Allie admonished the girl.

"It's alright," Harry laughed, "he tends to have that effect on people who don't know him yet. And… well... sometimes people who do too."

"He's gotta be at least a little cool," the boy next to Charlie - one who wasn't a current patient - added, leaning onto the table and gesturing his head swiftly towards Harry, "my mum would have killed me if I'd ever grown my hair that long."

Self-consciously, Harry ran his hand through his long raven locks. Eventually, it would be gone, just like most everyone else there, except four of the teens who had some degree of hair regrowth. It was odd to think how having hair actually made him more uncomfortable here than when he rejoined classes back at Hogwarts last year without it.

"It's kind of a family thing," Harry quietly commented, deciding Snape's own matching style made for a decent excuse.

His reply jump-started a conversation among the group of kids about all of the things they'd done to rebel against their parents' wishes and much to Harry's amazement, his supposedly rough start actually helped make him feel a little more comfortable in the group. The counselor - officially introduced as Dr Wright, but who everyone called Dr Michael - stood off to the side, observing their interactions for about five minutes before calling over the kids who were still scattered around the room to start the session and Harry oddly found himself excited to begin. The rules were simple: be respectful of those around you, nothing said in the group would be shared as long as it didn't bring harm to anyone, including himself, and each week they would focus on a specific theme - like coping mechanisms, grief, anger, or building relationships around them - but they could essentially talk about anything they felt they needed to.

As the newest member, they started with Harry, where Dr Michael kicked off the meeting asking him to introduce himself, tell them all something unique about him, and about his cancer. Harry instantly relished in the lack of recognition when he said his name, and none of the eyes shifted immediately to his forehead to search for his scar. He explained he was diagnosed with ALL in July of 1996, but he got the news of the relapse only last week; no one coddled him or made any sympathetic gestures, and he appreciated that more than he could ever describe to his friends at school. These teens had been there, they knew he didn't want the sympathy - that he'd have it by the ton from everyone else in his life - and yet they still managed to emit their support of him in a way the young wizard couldn't begin to explain.

For "something unique about yourself", he struggled, pausing as he tried to come up with something he could tell this group of people. Everything he could think to say either belonged in the wizarding world or the world he didn't want to bring into the hospital - being orphaned twice certainly qualified as "unique". His whole life he either tried to stand out while living with the Dursleys or blend in through the wizarding world and now he didn't exactly want either of those and thus couldn't think of a single unique thing to say about himself.

"Christopher tells me you have quite the talent in art. Sketching, if I remember correctly?" Dr Michael prompted, which earned him the attention of the group. He'd forgotten about showing the Child Life Specialist his artwork the other day - was that Saturday or yesterday? - and now his face flushed at not only the compliment but the fact the counselor had been briefed about Harry in general. What else did the man already know about him?

"I like to draw," he proudly stated. "And I guess I am pretty good at it. My mum used to sketch when she was my age."

No one mentioned his lack of mother seen around there and Harry was alright with that; the less he had to fill in on his awkward history, the better.

Finished with his introduction, they went around the circle to introduce everyone else, despite Harry having no hope of remembering everyone's name. What did stand out to the young wizard, though, was the confirmation that only four of them were also current patients on the ward: Charlie and Evie - the girl who thought Snape was terrifying - had been there for almost two months as they received treatment, Allie who came and went on a regular schedule like Harry, and Joseph - the ill boy waiting for the group to start - who didn't say anything about his cancer or his treatment. In fact, the only thing Joseph said the entire time was his name and that he was seventeen years old. All the rest of the group lived in the sponsored housing nearby as they received treatment either on an inpatient schedule or strictly in the clinic because they lived too far away to make the weekly trips. The wide range of cancers and treatment situations was eye-opening and Harry couldn't help thinking about how much worse his situation could be - like the nineteen-year-old, Drew, who stayed in the off-site housing practically alone because his family lived over four hours away and his parents still had his three younger siblings to take care of, leaving their only consistent visits during the worst of his treatments.

Once introductions were out of the way, Dr Michael opened it up to discuss any problems people were facing since their meeting last Thursday. Although Harry didn't participate in this segment - wanting to get a feel for what everyone else chose to share - he loved how the counselor remembered what each of them was going through from previous meetings and his suggestions to them. He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when many of their issues were similar to his own, like missing school, feeling left behind by friends living a typical teenager life, dating anxieties, and from one of the oldest trying to start his career during his Maintenance Treatments. But then there were things Harry didn't have to deal with - sibling fights over feeling ignored or a mother who had quit her job to take care of her son causing the whole family to have to move to a cheaper neighborhood - for which he found himself grateful over his own situation. Somehow being an orphan, growing up with neglectful relatives, but now being the pseudo-son of his mother's childhood best friend through all of this didn't seem so bad after all. His biggest takeaway from the family session was to check in with Snape about his two jobs. Were Dumbledore and Lucius giving him flexibility in his schedule? And if so, would he still get paid for the time off? Harry had the sinking suspicion the answer to the last question was "no", and although he doubted the man would let go of his pride enough to accept help from the Potter vault, Harry resolved to seriously offer.

They ended up going past their allotted hour for the session, but Dr Michael gave no outward indication of stopping them mid-conversation about coping mechanisms for their anger; the topic on his own agenda for the day. For Harry, this one felt highly relevant to him both during and beyond his journey with cancer. In hindsight, he could see how he'd always had a bit of a temper, even if he didn't realize it at the time, and his current stress only exacerbated the volatile emotion. Although many of the mechanisms felt too much like Occlumency for him to realistically use, there were others he committed to trying in an attempt not to let his anger boil over; like writing down his feelings rather than letting them fester inside of him or exercising when he felt well enough to do so.

When they finished around eleven o'clock, Harry had felt lighter than ever - including after his sessions with Dr Snyder, even if he didn't share much more than the basics about himself. Dr Michael had a way with the teens that felt natural and relatable, and, of course, the Gryffindor could no longer deny being with kids his own age who faced the same struggles he did daily made a lot of difference.

"Harry, wanna join us for a quick game? If you don't have anywhere else to be."

The voice called out to him right as he was about to leave to go back to his room, and when the Gryffindor turned around there was a group of three - Charlie, Allie, and Drew - left at the table with a deck of cards laid out between them. Torn by the decision, Harry contemplated his options. The morning support group, combined with the small amount of sleep, had completely worn him out and he could feel the start of his medications starting to affect him, but he really didn't want to sit in his room, especially alone if Snape hadn't come back yet. Now that he was up and out of his room, the possibility of getting sick at the table seemed like an extremely small price to pay for the ability to pretend things were normal.

"Whatcha playing?" He asked, making his way back to the group where Drew moved down into the booth to let him sit at the end. "Thanks."

"Just a friendly game of poker," Charlie answered while Allie shuffled the deck of cards and Charlie pushed over a set of colored sweets in front of Harry. At the young wizard's confused expression he explained, "One of the nurses saw us playing a couple weeks ago… we thought we'd be in trouble, but instead they now leave different sweets every Monday and Thursday for us to use as bets."

Harry gave a small laugh. He'd heard Dudley, Piers, and his other "friends" play the card game often when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon left for a weekend holiday. The young wizard didn't think either adult would ever kick up a fuss if they'd discovered it, so he assumed the cloak and dagger meetings were more to make them feel like adults when playing than to prevent them from getting in trouble over it.

The rules were simple, Harry had no issues picking them up, and by the third round he started to wonder how much using Occlumency would help in this.

I bet Severus would be amazing at poker, he thought to himself, making a mental note to check with Ron on if a wizarding version existed.

"Do you live close to here?" Allie asked him at the start of the fifth hand; so far Harry had lost every game. "Or are you and your dad living in the housing nearby too?"

Harry paused. Should he go with a generic Surrey? Or would it be Little Whinging? After a quick deliberation, he replied, "I used to live out here in Surrey, but moved to the Midlands last summer."

"Where at?" Drew asked curiously, placing down his bet for their current hand.

"Erm," Harry swallowed back his nerves, "Cokeworth. It's a couple hours away from here, but not too bad a trip to make with my current treatment schedule."

Especially when disapparating.

As if familiar with the run-down village, Drew's face grimaced in distaste, and Harry racked his brain to see if the other boy had mentioned where he lived when not near the hospital during their group session. What were the odds of two teens coming from the same town, especially one where no one in their right mind would choose to live?

"Do you-" Harry started to inquire if the other teen knew someone living there but stopped when he felt his face immediately flush as a strong wave of nausea passed over him. He closed his eyes and laid his forehead down on the cool laminate table, hoping against all the odds it would help bring down his warm body and let the moment pass. There were few times he would be hit with either an episode of pain or nausea and not end up over the loo, but it did happen and he prayed this would be one of them.

"Hey, let's pack it up for the day," Allie suggested, but to Harry, it sounded like she'd said it from the bottom of the Black Lake all the way in Scotland. "I can help you get back-"

She was cut off when Harry quickly lifted his head to frantically search for his closest exit. Though he was prepared to try to make it to the attached lavatory, he was thankful when a sick basin - appearing almost out of nowhere, as if summoned or conjured by magic - was handed to him by Charlie. Without putting another thought into its mysterious arrival, he held it out to the side of the table and let his body take over. The other three teens watched him closely, but at the same time, gave him his space. No one mocked him - or so much as spoke - until he'd finished expelling the rest of his undigested breakfast and laid his head, facing away from his new friends, back onto the table. Time seemed to slow to almost a stop as he waited for his body to recover enough to move.

"Thanks for letting me play," he muttered half into the table. "Imma head back to my room though. Wasn't feeling too well when I got here."

"We get it," Charlie reassured. "Need any help back?"

Harry shook his head to decline the assistance, already feeling mortified with the situation to take the offered hand. As he slowly walked back into his room, carefully watching his feet place one step in front of the other so he wouldn't fall, he startled at the sight of Snape - dressed in muggle black jeans and a grey jumper - fast asleep on the pulled-out sofa, with the starchy white hospital blanket laying haphazardly over his body. At least now he wouldn't have to deal with the professor's insistence on hearing about the support group, knowing full well he knew exactly where Harry had been otherwise he wouldn't have fallen asleep.

Harry climbed into his own bed, ignoring the aches and pains radiating from his bones, reminding him that no matter how good the medication was at masking his symptoms, when it reached its end it showed him how much he still had to go to be healthy again. Listening to Snape's even breathing made him smile against his own misery because he could see how burned out the professor had been getting and it hurt to know he was the reason for it. The only benefit to growing up alone was that he never had to deal with the guilt over other people putting his needs before their own, and he struggled with that now; especially over a man who, in most of Harry's memories, hated him.

His lunch wouldn't be delivered for about another hour, around the time his medication would be changed, so unable to find any rest, physically or mentally, for himself, and not wanting to wake up Snape, Harry pulled out his charmed galleon from his pocket. In the few hours he spent at the Hub that morning, he learned more about the importance of his community than he thought possible. He needed the support of those around him who were willing to be there and, if anything Dr Michael said was true, those people wanted him to accept the help.

How's classes?

His eyes widened in awe when the galleon grew to accommodate the writing as his finger traced each word until it became roughly the size of his hand. It would definitely make messaging to his friends easier and as he waited for a response, he silently thanked Hermione for this subtle change from their D.A. coins; and that she hadn't chosen to charm something like a notebook, which would feel too much like Tom Riddle's diary for his liking. The warmth from the galleon signaling a reply surprised him, almost causing him to drop the large coin into his bed.

HG: Harry! Are you ok?! We've been worried about you!

Hermione's natural panic seeping through his first message gave him a small chuckle. The correspondence out caused a ripple effect and the galleon in his hand heated up several more times as notes from his friends came pouring in:

RW: give him a break, mione.

DM: She's been panicking all weekend, Potter. Thanks for that.

RW: but she refused to let us write to you first.

DD: we tried to tell her no news was good news.

RW: she listens as well as you do, mate.

With a big smile plastered on his face for the first time since Saturday.

HP: I'm ok. Things here are rough, but I'm surviving...

Little did Harry know that while chatting with his friends may have made the perfect distraction to keep his mind occupied away from his pain, it also prevented him from logically looking back at what happened before he left the Hub: his sick basin mysteriously disappearing once he placed it on the floor.

~~~~SS~~~~

"Mrs Figg?! What the bloody hell were they thinking?!"

Uncharacteristically, Severus practically laughed out loud from Harry's animated exclamation when Miss Rosier finally announced his official legal guardian in the muggle world. Of all the people he'd gone through in his head trying to guess the person responsible for Harry's welfare, never once did he consider the squib living a couple of streets over in Little Whinging as a viable option.

Despite Harry's exuberant declaration regarding the subject at hand, Severus couldn't help thinking how worn down Harry appeared, especially for having started his next dose of the three-hour chemotherapy so recently. Unlike the phases of his previous regimen, the constant rotation and stream of medications gave the teen's body little recovery time before the next dose started, meaning the effects began to have a negative, cumulative impact on him, and understanding that this theory was exactly why Dr Swanson used this particular protocol for a relapse did little to ease the tightness in his chest from watching Harry having to endure it. When Severus woke up from his impromptu nap to the sight of Harry's ill body, he almost suggested canceling the appointment with the social worker. Harry probably wouldn't have minded in the slightest, however when Christopher walked in - dressed in a casual long-sleeved navy shirt, khaki trousers, and trainers indicating to the professor today was likely his day off - thirty minutes before Miss Rosier's arrival, Harry perked up enough to begin. That's exactly how the group of four ended up sitting uncomfortably around Harry's small room, Severus curled up on the sofa, the social worker and Christopher sitting in cloth chairs to his left, and Harry laying back in the recliner with the small table awkwardly set up between them all, trying to sort through things that probably should have been discussed after Harry's initial diagnosis.

Interestingly, the issue of the Gryffindor's guardianship had not been the first topic on their agenda to discuss. In fact, it had been the last. With the professor declared as Harry's caregiver - an unofficial title compared to his official one as his medical proxy - they kicked off the meeting covering Severus's employment contract with the school, their options available for housing closer to the hospital than Cokeworth, and an offer for him to join a weekly caregiver support group; similar to the one Harry had attended that morning and came highly recommended by Miss Rosier and Christopher. The last one Severus didn't even feel bad about ignoring, but he did freely provide the social worker with all of the pertinent details to his continued employment: mainly having already made the necessary arrangements with "the Headmaster" for time off to stay with Harry at the hospital. At her insistence, he also revealed the agreement for his salary to be prorated and shared with his replacement; being sure to emphasize how they've continued to allow himself and Harry to maintain their room and board on campus for the remainder of the year. Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat as the discussion moved towards the financial challenge of caring for an ill child, specifically one not directly related to the caregiver. No matter how much he attempted secretly reassure Harry regarding his ability to be able to provide for them, even on the more limited salary, he could tell it made the young wizard uncomfortable and the former spy's instincts screamed at him that had Miss Rosier and Christopher not been present, an offer from the Potter vaults would have been made. Thankfully, in the end, it only took one menacing glare towards the Gryffindor to successfully communicate just how unintelligent of an idea it would be to continue down his train of thinking. Call it Slytherin pride, however, Severus knowingly walked into this relationship and he would provide for them or find a way to.

Next, they turned the conversation towards Harry and his rights for leniency on missing school - a topic the poor woman had no idea how irrelevant her preplanned speech had been - including advice on how to stay up to date with the workload. Severus jumped in when she offered to speak with his teachers, if necessary, about tutors and late assignments, to quickly explain how understanding they had all been thus far and the benefits to being on staff had allowed Harry plenty of flexibility with his schoolwork. Although his answers seemed sufficient for most of her inquiries, she still felt the need to go through every last detail with them. And so both wizards sat there listening patiently with a silent promise passed between them to discuss the young wizard's education, or lack thereof when they returned to Scotland.

Hopefully, on Wednesday, Severus thought, ignoring the pit in the bottom of his stomach questioning if that would be possible.

As Miss Rosier continued her rattling off information about Harry's education, Severus almost wished Harry had been in a muggle school when all of this started. There seemed to be a plethora of support and options for him to continue, to ultimately finish, his education through the muggle system. In stark contrast, without magic for the next two or three years, the young wizard had zero hope in actually finishing at Hogwarts, and the Board of Governors gave him no options on how to handle the unique scenario nor did they seem to care. The most likely outcome would be getting Harry a private tutor as an adult to cover only enough detail for him to pass the bare amount of N.E.W.T.s to secure a job. The longer Miss Rosier spoke, the more the conversation with Lucius regarding the offer for Harry's inclusion into Draco's foundation's class seemed like the Gryffindor's best option.

"I will admit," the muggle woman skeptically said after Harry's declaration regarding his muggle guardian, "an elderly neighbor who's had no real connection to the child is less than ideal, but unfortunately we've seen far worse placements. Preferably, children should go to a relative-" Harry scoffed at the remark, a move not missed by Miss Rosier, "- and your aunt and uncle's solicitor should have questioned it, especially when the other minor in their care went to his aunt."

Severus had no doubt the Dursleys hadn't given one damn thought over who would take Harry in the event of their own untimely death and the assignment of Mrs Figg had been arranged by Albus post facto. It took his mind to a dark and scary place: what would have happened if Harry's awful relatives had died and he hadn't been The-Boy-Who-Lived? Would the child have gone from his neglectful, abusive home into the muggle foster care system? And how could both the wizarding and muggle world have such a large, gaping hole in the protection of their minors who found themselves orphaned? There were zero checks and balances for these children who straddled the line between the muggle and magical world.

"Well I don't really have much of those anymore," Harry grumbled, "so I guess the stinky cat lady is better than nothing."

"Harry!" Severus admonished.

To say the teen felt less than enthused about who Dumbledore managed to arrange, at least on paper, would be an understatement. The child practically sat there sulking over the news. And though Severus had his own qualms with the woman Albus planted there to keep watch over the young wizard - mostly her lack of information on Harry's living conditions - she had dedicated decades of her life to living in the mediocrity of suburbia and deserved at least a little respect for that sacrifice. Deep down though, he couldn't deny his own relief over the arrangements - the old squib would never attempt to try to take Harry away from him and into her care.

In fact, I could probably convince her to fully release him into my care.

The idea snuck up on him so suddenly he hadn't a clue exactly where it'd come from.

"It's certainly alright, Mr Snape, definitely not the worst I've heard about someone's guardianship," the elderly muggle waved him down and drew his attention back to the group in front of him. "Now, Harry, I went and spoke with Mrs Figg this morning and she's told me you've been living with Severus, is that correct?"

Nervously, Harry turned towards the professor, who gave him a small nod to continue. If Mrs Figg explicitly stated that to a muggle official, she'd been instructed to do so; Albus Dumbledore didn't leave anything to chance.

"Erm… yeah," he confirmed. "He's been handling everything with my medicine and I really don't think Mrs Figg could handle it… and he used to be my mum's best friend, so he's practically my parent already, and I rather live with him."

The sentiment tugged at Severus's already worn emotions, practically begging him to pay attention to it. But when Miss Rosier pulled open the file she'd been holding in her lap down and read through a page Severus couldn't see from his vantage point, he tucked the stray thought away. He needed to pay attention to the present, not what he may or may not want in the future.

"The facts are pretty simple here…" the woman began, "you're seventeen and less than a year from aging out of your guardianship, you live at a boarding school most of the year, and your health condition is complicated, but obviously well cared for. So as long as you're both agreeable with the current status, and your guardian approves, I see no reason to change things now." Harry smiled, and Severus shared his sentiment over the allowance of their living situation to remain the same. Unknowing to either of them, the social worker's brown eyes shifted between two wizards observing their mutual respect and care for one another. "However, I do feel it's worth pointing out, should either of you wish to change the arrangement into something more… official… you only have until 30 July of next year. Unfortunately, the UK does not recognize adult adoptions, therefore that window closes when Harry turns eighteen."

The warning and its implication sat heavily between them, and though no one added to it, the idea was now firmly planted into Severus's mind. They'd never explicitly spoken about Harry becoming officially adopted, and with everything going on with his cancer and the Death Eaters, the last thing they needed was to add to their already stress-filled plate. It had its benefits though, and seeing the teen's tired, sad eyes pushed the concept a little further from conceptual and more towards a potential reality. Unfortunately, he would not get the chance to discuss it with Harry because his latest round of chemotherapy hit him harder than any of the others and the child ended up sick, or in too much pain to do much of anything, for the remainder of their long night.