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

With Voldemort dead and Harry's cancer settling life should be returning to normal for Harry and Snape but things aren't always as they seem. Instead they find themselves challenged in new ways. When dangerous events start after Harry's return to Hogwarts can Snape figure out what's going on before they're torn apart again? HPSS mentor Healing/Coping
Categories: Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Dudley, Hermione, Original Character
Snape Flavour: Snape Comforts, Snape is Depressed, Snape is Desperate, Snape is Kind, Snape is Loving, Out of Character Snape, Overly-protective Snape, Snape is Secretive
Genres: Angst, Drama, Family, General, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery
Media Type: None
Tags: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Azkaban Character, Hospitalization, Injured!Harry
Takes Place: 7th summer, 7th Year
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Character Death, Out of Character, Romance/Het
Challenges: None
Series: Choices We Made Universe
Chapters: 84 Completed: No Word count: 697412 Read: 514936 Published: 15 Nov 2020 Updated: 30 Sep 2023
Breaking Point by JewelBurns

~~~~SS~~~~

Friday, 7 November 1997

"You didn't need to come today, Severus, surely this is an inconvenience in your already busy schedule," Narcissa gracefully told the professor as they stood idly waiting in the atrium of the Ministry for the courtrooms to open and Draco's trial - or more accurately, his sentencing - began. Lucius made a brief appearance when Severus arrived, then hastily left to make one last plea to the Wizengamot, although he seriously doubted the Malfoy patriarch's ability to positively impact the outcome. If anything, Lucius was more likely to insult the members of Wizengamot by flaunting his influence than help, and ultimately Draco would be the one paying the price.

The sentiment in Narcissa's final words - busy schedule - was more true for the professor than anyone could ever know, and if her statement didn't drip in insincerity, he might have believed she honestly cared about his previous week's tasks.

For Severus, the days following the Halloween Ball might as well have been a complete waste given his measly focus on teaching. Adding to his already distracted state - placing him nearly two weeks behind going into yet another lost week spent at the muggle hospital with Harry - Tonks informed him midweek of her inability to cover his classes during his absence; needing to tend to her cases for the final week before her rotation guarding Azkaban beginning on the 16th of November. In an effort to help, Albus assigned a rotating set of substitutes as beneficial as Filius and as pointless as Aurora Sinistra. Loathe as he was to admit it, against all odds he and Tonks managed to fall into a sort of cadence where Severus didn't need to leave as detailed of a lesson plan for the Auror to cover. Somewhere along the way, he began to trust her ability to take his high-level outline and turn it into a worthwhile lesson; a talent he placed little faith in any of the planned substitutes to do. Therefore he found himself relying on assigning self-reading and essays during the week to give himself time to formulate a set of plans detailed enough to be understood by an Astronomy professor. By Friday morning, he succeeded in only two major accomplishments for the week: sending the information regarding the request for Obcasio to Kingsley - not trusting Samson regardless of their newfound organizational effort - and forwarding Silas the requested documents to officially initiate the adoption process for Harry. With both of those heavy burdens officially off of his shoulders, it should have left him the mental capacity to focus on Draco's trial, followed by checking into the Guildford hospital for Harry's bone marrow aspiration this evening, and the start of Cycle B tomorrow. Nevertheless, he felt more overwhelmed and unprepared than ever in his life.

"Of course I want to be here," Severus scoffed at Narcissa. "Outside of being his Head of House, I…"

Severus unceremoniously trailed off, unsure how to explain his complicated relationship with the teen he'd known since the young Slytherin's birth. To him, Harry and Draco were two sides of the same coin: neither one his, yet deep down he cared for them both and he needed to be there for the teen during this time - if for no other reason than to see Draco after spending a week in Azkaban and facing a sentence of unknown duration.

"I am certain this is all a big misunderstanding," the haughty witch clamoured, "and Draco will be coming home with us this afternoon. The need for all these theatrics is almost laughable."

"He's guilty, Narcissa. The facts are simple - he became an animagus and then did not register, something his parents should have advised against," Severus hissed. "Your son will be indicted and then sent back to Azkaban today, the only unknown is how long his life will be put on hold for the mistake of being a scared child, and the sooner you get out of whatever delusional world you've chosen to live in, the better off you'll be."

Narcissa huffed, still not understanding the gravity of the situation laid before them. Like Harry when he received his Leukemia diagnosis and subsequent relapse, Draco's entire future was going to shift based on these proceedings. A three-month-long Azkaban sentence, the minimum Severus imagined they'd hand down, meant disrupting a significant portion of his education during his most difficult year, as well as missing the opportunity to interview with the muggle uni over the Christmas holiday. And although he presumed the incarceration wouldn't be recorded in the muggle world, the visible tattoo on his neck he surely received during his Azkaban intake resembled a muggle prison tattoo enough to lead to assumptions and unfair judgment in both worlds. Draco wasn't a killer, nor did he willingly use an unforgivable curse. He'd been a scared teenager, mere months into his adulthood, who felt alone in the world around him and made a decision using clouded judgement. Severus flexed his left forearm remembering his own foolish teenage mistake; one made when he wasn't much older than Draco now. Yet despite his sin being far worse than not registering an animagus form, Severus never stepped foot into Azkaban for it. Of course, the prison he made for himself rivalled anything he'd face in the stone walls of the mid-Atlantic wizarding penitentiary.

"No luck in lobbying for a hearing in lieu of an official trial for his sentence," Lucius announced, approaching the odd couple with his chin held high. "It seems they wish to catalogue every single piece of evidence inside the courtroom. They're not even allowing him the opportunity to plead guilty."

"But of course-" Narcissa started until Severus abruptly cut her off.

"What benefit does he gain by pleading?"

Lucius smirked, "For one, it prevents the damning testimony from being officially stated and recorded. So even though he'd state he's guilty, there's nothing official the papers can use against him-" of course, Severus thought, always keeping up appearances, "-and one's image accounts for a high percentage of most first impressions. Not to mention pleading typically leads to a lighter sentence, and if I were a betting man, I'd say they're set on taking this as far as they can with it."

Regrettably, Severus agreed with that observation. The Wizengamot's ambition to draw it out certainly did not bode well for Draco's potential deniability later in his life. At this rate, the trial would garnish just as much publicity as the original Death Eater trials back in '81.

I sure hope the Department of Registries is prepared for the onslaught of registrations

Not getting time to reply, Albus approached, coming off the lift behind Severus. "They're ready for us downstairs."

Still feeling some animosity towards the headmaster for his role in keeping Draco feeling isolated, Severus quickly determined any information was better than nothing

"Any sense of which direction they're leaning on this? According to Minerva, there's no standard sentence for being unregistered. It's important to state for the record that outside of visiting his girlfriend's private rooms, he did not break the law while in his animagus form.."

Lucius chuckled at the acknowledgement of how Draco used his new form.

"No, I'm afraid they're staying close-lipped, going as far as sequestering completely away this morning," Albus replied sullenly. "As a witness, I've been refused access to the courtroom until I'm summoned. They're under the belief I'll be able to sway the members of the Wizengamot if I'm allowed in prematurely."

"Who's been assigned as the judge today?" Severus asked, genuinely curious if the person presiding might be at all advantageous to a lesser sentence. He clasped his hands behind his back to appear confident and in control; two states of being he most certainly did not possess at the moment.

"Scrimgeour," Albus winced at the similarity to Harry's trial for the Dementor attack before fifth year by having the Minister for Magic overseeing the trial and sentencing.

"I take it, it was too much to ask for someone less politically inclined to step in instead?" Severus grumbled. The four adults stepped into the lift to take them down to the courtrooms. "Even Umbridge would have been preferred above Scrimgeour! At least she respected Draco during his days on the inquisitorial squad."

"You've mistaken the purpose of today, Severus," Lucius flatly commented. "Draco will be crucified as an example, they do not want any potential leniency on his account. And might I remind you, Madam Umbridge only favoured Draco because he stood opposite of Mr Potter. Today, the agenda is quite different and I expect her to vote alongside the Minister."

Severus did not respond to the extremely valid answer; nothing else was needed. They spent the remainder of the trip in complete silence, broken only by the rattling of the metal lift clanging down the shaft taking them to their final destination. When they reached the bottom and exited the lift, Severus gestured for Lucius to hold back as they approached the entrance to the courtroom.

"How's Draco?" The professor somberly queried. "You were able to see him last week, correct?"

"Yes, I did. Naturally, he appeared quite… frustrated with the situation at hand," Lucius's reply came with more honesty than Severus expected, "and I doubt he let anyone else see that in him."

"Very true," Severus agreed. Draco knew better than to show weakness of any kind when surrounded by a population of people waiting to take advantage of him. Proud; Severus found himself proud of his former protege to keep himself together when the world looked to be against him. "So then his cell arrangements? Even with the Mark, he wasn't…"

Relief momentarily poured through the professor's body. All week he'd imagined Draco suffering in the high-security side of the wizarding prison - subjecting him to a constant stream of dementors. Hearing Draco's separation away from dementors and the other convicted Death Eaters brought him at least a little peace in the complicated circumstances.

"No, Severus," the aristocratic man saved them the awkward silence, "rest assured, they've placed him on the medium-security side. Although with a cellmate such as Fenrir, he might prefer the detectors. He's sworn our former associate has been more accommodating than we'd expect. If I were to wager a guess, the werewolf is lobbying a quid pro quo, Draco's continued safety for my power in lightening his sentence. The prospect of life in Azkaban can make anyone act foolishly, look no further than Jugson and Gibbons… they lasted what? A fortnight before making alternate arrangements?"

Severus recalled the case investigating the demise of the two pseudo-Death Eaters was still pending, yet Lucius spoke of them as if he obtained undeniable proof of their deaths being self-inflicted. The last the professor heard, nothing came from the interviews of the cellmates - ironically one being Fenrir Greyback - and they moved onto the visitors from the days preceding their deaths; a wasted effort, at best. If someone visiting the prison ended up behind it all, their tracks would have been well concealed to pull it off in a place like Azkaban.

"Lucius," Narcissa's soft voice beckoned to them from across the black marble corridor, "Severus? Are you planning on joining us?"

Without saying another word, they joined Narcissa and Albus. Standing there, waiting for the door to open, Severus wondered if the two wizards accompanying him were brought back to the Battle of the Department of Mysteries when they fought on opposite sides. The tides turned so swiftly in such a short time that if he hadn't been involved in it all, he likely wouldn't have believed it possible. Nevertheless, here they stood, three Slytherins who once supported the darkest wizard of their time, and the Great Albus Dumbledore - Leader of the Light - to support the child who somehow got horribly caught in the middle. Sorting through the mess made his stomach churn, but he didn't get a chance to dwell on the implications because the door finally opened, announcing the start of Severus's first nightmare in his long day.

In the year following the first war, Severus managed to find himself in this same courtroom more often than he wanted. Similar to Lucius and his claim of being under the Imperius Curse to do Voldemort's bidding, his status as a Death Eater turned spy did not win him many favours right away. In fact, it took three separate trips in front of the Wizengamot, alongside Dumbledore's prestigious reputation and his honourable oath to Severus's change of alliance, to officially clear his guilt to the DMLE. Of course, that ruling only applied to his legal standing in the Ministry and did not come close to absolving his crimes to the wizarding world as a whole or, most importantly, to his conscience. In his mind, Severus was guilty of serving the Dark Lord no matter which side he ended up on when the bastard finally fell, and no paperwork changed that reality.

All of this to say, the nerves the former Death Eater felt walking into the circular courtroom with the Malfoys exceeded all three of his own proceedings combined. They were escorted by a DMLE security wizard to a reserved group of seats to the left of the Defendant's chair, giving them a perfect vantage point of Draco - when the young wizard arrived - and the members of the Wizengamot sitting tiered opposite to the door; Scrimgeour prominently placed in the high seat in front of them. Oddly, the gallery of people for the trial was kept small. In addition to Severus and the Malfoys, two reporters Severus hadn't the pleasure of running into previously, Williamson, Samson and Kingsley representing the Aurors, and a couple of other sharply dressed witches and wizards Severus assumed to be various solicitors or other personnel of the like made up the rest of the group. Unlikely as it may be, the lack of an audience left Severus holding onto the possibility of this not becoming a public spectacle and dragging a teenager through hell simply to make a statement.

They'd barely made it to their seat when Draco arrived in a set of crisp silver and black business robes. Framed by two armed Aurors pointing their wands threateningly at his head, the young Slytherin walked proudly to the single chair in the centre of the room. When he passed their area of the galley, Severus's sorrow increased at the sight of Draco's pale hands tied tightly behind his back by a set of thick, black chains. The Auror on the left forcibly pushed Draco down into the seat, but the blonde never faltered; his head remained held high throughout the entire ordeal. Once seated, the chains were magically moved from his wrists to his ankles, securing him to the chair - which certainly had a permanent sticking charm to the floor - and an additional set of four Aurors brandished their wands around him. If anyone were attempting to break the young wizard out from the courtroom, they'd be taken down before the first syllable of stupefy left his or her lips.

Scrimgeour opened the proceedings directly after Draco and the Aurors were settled. His introduction to the court outlined the series of people, witnesses, and evidence being presented with the end goal of determining the guilt of the defendant on the charges and, if so, handing down an appropriate sentence aligned with the crime committed. Shockingly, he sounded almost impartial and if only he spent the rest of the trial in such a state, Draco might have a chance. How foolish he felt, by the end, to have considered such a positive outcome. The first part of the trial came as no surprise to Severus. Williamson and Kingsley were called to the stand to recount their perspective of the night leading up to the arrest. While Scrimgeour seemed to be satisfied glossing over any of the more minute details, Severus was pleased to see at least several Wizengamot members take their positions seriously and asked clarifying questions to be certain the correct protocol had been followed, the timeline matched, and no other gaps were discovered in the overall investigation. The professor went into the day knowing Draco was guilty, so naturally knew nothing would come out of the inquisition, but the fact they were willing to be open-minded when faced with a defendant carrying the Dark Mark felt encouraging. They called Albus as the last witness to testify on the wand investigation and arrest. Lucius and Narcissa stiffened as the headmaster addressed the court, retelling his viewpoint of the night, and relaxed considerably when they heard the eldest wizard sticking to the facts while managing to paint a picture of Williamson as a vengeful Auror - racing into the Halloween festivities unnecessarily aggressively, dragging the defendant through the hall when he'd already agreed to go willingly, and threatening another unarmed bystander - as a means of seeking out retribution for his previous charges. Sadly, Scrimgeour caught onto this and quickly put a stop to his vivid testimony. Nonetheless, Severus thought he'd said enough to cast at least a shadow of doubt over the entire string of events.

Severus became rather restless when they called on the next round of witnesses: Minerva McGonagall to outline the process for successful animagus transformation, Leif Cassowary, head of the department for weather divinations and storm anomalies, and Ambrosia Tauris, the Head of the Department of Registries in the Ministry. The latter two, seemingly unimportant individuals in the Ministry solidified the foundation for Draco's crime. Minerva's spunky attitude surrounding the inquiries she faced from the Wizengamot made Severus appreciate her brass honesty, and not for the first time since he arrived in this reality. Her emphasis on the lack of regulation on any exact timeline for Animagus Registration did not go unnoticed either. More than half of the voting members nodded their heads when she walked them through the ambiguous process giving Severus another small flame of optimism he tried not to feed upon. Her explanation of the final requirement of the Animagus transformation - the incantation being performed during a lightning storm - transitioned perfectly into Leif Cassowary's testimony. Here, the nervous middle-aged wizard presented a calendar of all the recorded weather events surrounding Hogwarts, proving the latest date available for Draco to complete the process was over a fortnight before his arrest. Although never stated outright, having two-weekend dates between the recorded storm and the arrest plainly left enough time for Draco to become registered if he so desired to, had to be the most damning evidence of his case. The last witness brought up for the DMLE was Ambrosia Tauris. As the Head of Magical Registration, Tauris oversaw all record-keeping for Wizarding Britain. Ironically, if everything with Severus's petition to adopt Harry went through, she would be the one signing off on the final paperwork when they were officially recorded in the Wizarding world. Today, though, she didn't have as pleasant of a job as recording an adoption. Everyone in the court saw it pained her to explain the process for how magical records were catalogued and how the DMLE had access to recall any registration at any given moment of the day. This ability allowed the Aurors to confirm when they had doubts in cases such as apparating without a licence, unregistered animangi, and the correct permits to buy or sell certain classified potions ingredients; the latter of which Severus knew all too well. By the end of the DMLE's witnesses, Severus's nerves were completely torn apart and despite walking into the Ministry understanding what would happen, hearing it all laid out in front of him and being told in a one-sided way made his blood boil.

By court decree, Scrimgeour had to allow the Defense the opportunity to present their rebuttal. Draco's solicitor did his best possible given the evidence built up against them. Never did he openly declare his client's status as innocent or guilty, but instead focused his strategy on Draco's character growth leading and emphasising his need for privacy as he navigated his last year in the wizarding school. A series of Letters of Character Reference were presented and read aloud to the members of the Wizengamot, speaking of his dedication to the Order of the Phoenix without hesitation, his conscientious nature in his classes working towards the goal of attending muggle uni to get a dual certification in muggle and magical healing, and the difficult trials and tribulations the Malfoy heir faced at Hogwarts daily while living with the children of the Death Eaters he helped put in Azkaban. Severus was not called to testify, a fact he knew about earlier in the week. His personal relationship with his Slytherin since his birth combined with their unique mentorship during Draco's spying days outweighed his Head of House status, and according to the solicitor would make him appear biased; potentially damaging their case. Severus had his reservations about the decision, but sitting in the galley listening to account after account from professors he never would have guessed in a million years to stand up in favour of Draco Malfoy - including Charity Burbage's favourable endorsement of Draco's focus to catch up and excel in Muggle Studies despite taking the course for his first time this year - he trusted the method. It didn't erase the previous evidence against the young Slytherin, but it provided him with the chance to get out of this with a potentially lighter sentence based on his growing maturity; a month, even, Severus found himself hoping.

After the closing statements, the Wizengamot left the courtroom to determine their decision. The room sat in utter silence, exclusively the soft murmurs - the signal of a well placed Muffliato - between solicitor and defendant flowing around the room for the short thirty minutes the group was gone deliberating. Severus tried not to overthink the short duration it took to reach their conclusion. It made sense, after all; they didn't have to put too much thought into if he were guilty or not because that part wasn't up for much debate. It came down to how much time in Azkaban these people - witches and wizards who never risked their lives to gather intelligence from across enemy lines to take down the threat against them - was appropriate for not filling out a damn piece of paper.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Scrimgeour declared to the galley once all of the members returned to their previous seats, "as I'm sure you can imagine a decision such as this isn't one taken lightly. The members of Wizengamot and myself have weighed all of the facts presented throughout the testimonies and have come to a decision. Will the defendant please rise." Every pair of eyes in the courtroom were directed onto Draco as he stoically stood up next to his chair. Severus held his breath, not wanting to miss a single syllable of what came out the Minister for Magic's mouth. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you have been found guilty of being an unregistered animagus, and are hereby sentenced to twelve months in Azkaban prison."

They lost. And in the worst way imaginable.

~~~~HP~~~~

H. Potter (AYA#4)

D1: 0500 Vin (1h) / MetpH (24h), urine test P.O. 4h

D2-D3: 0500 Cyta Neuro (2h) / B9 (1h) / drops, 1100 B9 (1h) / drops, 1700 Cyta Neuro (2h) / B9 (1h) / drops, 2300 B9 (1h) / drops

D4: 0500 Doxo (24h)

D5: 1700 Neutro (IM)

Harry's heart sat heavily in his chest as he stared across his room for the next week at the intimidating schedule outlining his chemotherapy, ready to start tomorrow morning, marking his official first day of Cycle B. The red loopy handwriting made it look so easy, yet remembering Dr Swanson's explanation last weekend, he knew, without a doubt, it would be anything but easy.

Arriving at the muggle hospital this cycle somehow felt simultaneously easier and more anxiety-inducing to the young wizard. On the one hand, not starting his weeklong treatment on the heels of the horrific magical blocking ritual started him in an overall better mood. On the other hand, his more optimistic mood was almost immediately nullified by the bone marrow biopsy Dr Swanson did to see if he reached his much needed second remission. Too nervous about what the results would be, neither wizard said a word to each other during the painful procedure he hated, or while they settled into their room shortly afterwards. Knowing better of what to expect while staying in the hospital, Harry packed his bag from home with his comfort top of mind and took great pleasure in going around his new room swapping out the hospital-issued pillows and blankets for his own, placing his books, art supplies, and puzzles where they could be easily accessible in the bedside table drawers, and his picture frames prominently displayed on the top. Although they hadn't discussed the plans for Snape staying overnight with him again - in what surely would be an equally long stay - he noticed the professor brought along his own creature comforts from home, including his personal bedding, books, and snacks for them to share. Harry watched his mentor methodically place his belongings around the room, not saying a word in the process, sensing the tension in the air building up between them.

The news of Draco's sentence, combined with the wait for his bone marrow results, sat like a boulder between them making the air thick with grief and worry. When the professor arrived back at their quarters, a mere three hours before they had to leave for the hospital, he didn't elaborate on the trial outside of the final sentence. Dozens of questions raced through Harry's head as he tried to make sense of what happened and what the results meant. How did Draco look when he heard he'd lose a year of his life locked away - surprised, angry, accepting? Was the other wizard scared to be locked away in a room? Did he go quietly back to Azkaban, or did he put up a fight? Ultimately, Harry knew better than to ask a single one, so instead, he mumbled a pathetic "that's rubbish" and watched Snape storm to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him to pack for Guildford.

Just the thought of not seeing his friend for another year made him wish he could go back in time and tell Draco not to visit Hermione before the Halloween Ball. Such a stupid mistake cost him far too much. Suddenly, an idea popped into the Gryffindor's mind.

"Why didn't we use a Time-Turner?" Harry fiercely asked, turning over in his bed towards Snape.

"What are you talking about?" The professor sternly retorted back. Harry plainly saw Snape's exhaustion already evident, and not a drop of medication touched Harry's veins yet; not a good sign for their upcoming week.

"To save Draco? I get we can't go back that far now, but when he was originally arrested, we would've had to go back… what… four hours?"

"Harry-" Snape calmly tried to interrupt him, but the young wizard didn't want to pay any attention, this made too much sense to him and he needed to get it out.

"-That would've given us plenty of time to stop him from heading to Hermione's room. Ooor… why didn't I think of this sooner?!" Harry excitedly pushed himself up into a better sitting position - forgetting about his aching hip and the IV of fluids running to his port - consumed with this notion of being able to alter the course of fate, allowing himself to forget for a minute they were too late. "You could've gone to Hermione's room when Luna and I left for the Great Hall and knowing the number of spells he needed to cast to prevent the animagus detection, had him do some random charms so the animagus one would be far behind him!"

"Harry-" Snape's voice increased in intensity, but still, Harry didn't stop.

"-At that point, the real you would've been upstairs already and time-travelling you could just wait it out in our quarters until it was time to come back and-"

"Harry!" The angry yelling of his name in the small hospital room finally caught the Gryffindor's attention, sending him momentarily back to some of his worst potions classes. "It's too late."

"But-"

Snape paused his unpacking, placing his folded up green jumper down on the sofa bed and walked regretfully to Harry, sitting down carefully on the edge of his bed. Harry watched as the professor placed his hand on the Gryffindor's extended knee, leaving it there as a token of moral support while he spoke, "No amount of questioning the things that should have been done will rectify the situation. Nevertheless, as you appear to be making yourself quite irate over the situation-"

"I'm not irate," Harry mumbled under his breath, meaning Snape didn't hear a word of it.

"-Let me explain a few key details to you. First, unlike with your godfather, we did not happen to have a Time-Turner readily available… although for what it's worth, two thirteen-year-olds should not have had one either that night. Now, in case you are unaware, to gain access to one requires a petition to the Department of Mysteries outlining your need for the device, and approval by the Minister for Magic himself, both of which would put us past the time constraints to go back.

"Second, if you remember correctly, though admittedly you and your friends were a bit preoccupied during the event, all of the Time-Turners were destroyed in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries in your fifth year. Therefore, even if we were to get the approval for one in the appropriate timeframe to successfully utilize it, there is none left to give.

"Finally, and probably the most important reason of the three, we cannot simply travel to the past to fix every mistake one makes. Imagine the consequences if dozens of witches and wizards gained the ability to do so any time he or she wished? It's too much responsibility, and the risk far too high, to be placed in just anyone's hands."

Harry stared down at his intertwined fingers thinking about the words Snape spoke. They were honest and fair, yet something didn't sit right with him.

"So does that apply to you too?" Harry challenged, feeling his anxiety over the implications of Snape not taking that potion overwhelming him. "You didn't only go back in time by a matter of hours, you travelled… what… a year? And to a whole different world to save me. So does that mean you regret it? Or think we'd be better off here without you?

"Now that I think about it, you might be onto something. I'm pretty sure if you didn't come here, I wouldn't've made it back to Hogwarts last year. And who knows what Voldemort would have done, but I'm pretty sure he'd have died at some point on his own, so maybe you are right... I don't really serve any purpose here, so as long as I died first to get rid of the Horcrux, the world would be no different than it is now, except Draco not being locked up in Azkaban because then he would have no reason to want to become a cat."

If it were any other day, Harry knew Snape would never let him get away with his self-pity, but he didn't care. All that mattered was his inability to fix the problem. To get Draco back and prevent him from missing out on a year of his life; knowing exactly what it felt like. Except when Harry went on to explain his N.E.W.T.s being delayed by five years because he survived a rare - in wizards, at least - blood cancer, Draco would have to disclose his imprisonment. Regardless of the reason, wizards and muggles alike looked at going to prison significantly different than attending to one's health. Once again, in the eyes of the public, Harry unintentionally fell into the role of the hero, leaving Draco to play the villain.

"You're right," Snape's agreement surprised Harry just as much as the man's relaxed attitude given his obvious physical build-up of tension. "Without the events of Malfoy Manor, Voldemort feasibly would have perished due to the Leukemia regardless - most likely after you given the timetable on the disease and his access to his full magical core - and none of the Death Eaters would have been captured at all. But that begs the question, would Draco be the same person he is today?

"Though his paradigm shift occurred due to his father's imprisonment after the Department of Mysteries, had I - or my counterpart, in this scenario - not lost my status as a spy by protecting you in an event which probably wouldn't have happened since Alton drew their attention to you, Albus might not have looked as favourably in utilizing Draco within the Order. That one event may have meant the difference between Draco overcoming his pureblood pretence or not, and therefore being able to win over Hermione Granger... the one bright spot in his life at the moment."

Harry frowned. Like everything else in his life, he hadn't thought that far into it.

"But you just said life would stop as we know if everyone went back in time," Harry sulked. "So which is it?"

"Don't be so dramatic," Snape stood and went back to his folded jumper, placing it delicately in the drawer Harry never noticed beneath the sofa bed. "To clarify my previous statement, it'd be nearly impossible to keep track of multiple time travellers - for lack of a better word - at any period of time. What I did was done outside of a Time-Turner and I am not going back to my old world… meaning there are not two of me here. Truthfully, I don't even know if any more of the potion exists. When I came here Dumbledore mentioned the potion was no longer in his possession, suggesting my use of it crossed between both realities."

"A total waste if I end up dying in the end anyway."

Without missing a beat, Snape replied, "Those around you don't think about it as such. We're grateful for every extra minute we have with you here."

Feeling his cheeks flush, Harry turned away, hiding his embarrassment caused by Snape's endearing words and his own morbid thoughts. All week he saw the professor's stress rise whenever they crossed paths, and his friends told him the professor barely taught at all during class, assigning independent reading and essays. So when Harry noticed himself still incredibly exhausted all week despite taking steroids - the medication which usually gave him insomnia - he chose not to disclose his concern. The last thing Harry wanted to do was add to Snape's already heavy burdens, especially when there was no way to alter the outcome. Still, it left Harry thinking a lot about his battle with Leukemia and what he'd do if the bone marrow results turned out not to be in his favour.

Needing a distraction during the awful waiting, he pulled out his charmed galleon, contemplating if it were too early to contact his friends. They'd been together when Snape returned after the trial, but he wanted to check in on them and not only to satisfy his loneliness, he wanted to know how Hermione was handling the knowledge of her boyfriend not returning home.

HP: Hey guys, how's it going?

Harry stared at the galleon clenched tightly in his fist while he nervously chewed on the inside of his bottom lip, practically willing the object to heat up. Time ticked on like molasses, nevertheless, the gold coin remained cold in his shaky grip.

"They're most likely still at dinner," Snape offered, drawing Harry out of his turbulent thoughts. "Albus planned a small announcement regarding Draco's sentencing and I imagine it's a rather sullen affair in the Great Hall right now."

Craning his neck to see the hour, Harry nodded, figuring that was as good of a reason as any for all of them to miss his message.

"Will Mae be stopping by tonight?" Harry tucked the galleon under his leg, making him wince when he shifted his hips on the bed to lay down on his back. Gazing up at the ceiling he wondered why they went so far to make the rest of the rooms comfortable and paid no attention to the plain white ceiling. Although he rarely laid flat, even when attempting to sleep in the hospital, he wanted to tell the next designers how often inpatients spent looking up at the boring surface.

"No," the raw sadness in Snape's voice touched Harry's heart. He, too, wished she was going to be there like she had every night during his first stay, especially with finding out how successful - or not - his first cycle had been on the relapsed cancer. "She'll stop by tomorrow… briefly, depending on how you're handling your treatment."

"I'm sure I'll be fi-" Harry began, stopping himself when he realized the taboo word almost left his mouth. Thankfully, he ended up not having to sit through the lecture he was sure he'd get because a firm knock at his door rendered the two wizards speechless.

Not waiting for an answer, the door creaked open and in walked Dr Swanson, her hands filled with his ever-growing chart. Naturally, Harry tried to read Dr Swanson's body language, figuring he'd known about the relapse before she told them the bad news based solely on her body language. Now, though, her face was expressionless - too expressionless? Harry wondered - giving him absolutely nothing to go on. Remembering Snape knew Legilimency, the Gryffindor swiftly turned, hoping to find the professor engaging in the subtle mind art. After all, if anyone could pull off stealthily reading a muggle's mind, it'd be Snape. Unfortunately, the other wizard's mood appeared no more or less anxious than his own, concluding no Legilimency occurred.

"All settled in, I see?" Dr Swanson pulled up a chair, positioning herself between Snape sitting on the sofa and Harry in his bed, and gestured to Harry's replacement bedding.

"After the way you talked about it before last week's chemo, I thought it'd be best if I made myself as comfortable as possible," the young wizard's face warmed in another unexpected flush. "So, erm… did you get the results yet? I'm assuming that's why you're here, right? Because I don't have any chemo until the morning."

Dr Swanson nodded her head, but her face stayed neither excited nor doomed. Glancing over her shoulder, she studied the schedule upon the board. "You'll be starting at five in the morning this time. Hopefully, it'll leave you with more manageable overnight hours, at least on days two and three. This cycle does require quite a bit of supplementary care during the actual chemo, which can make the daytime hours difficult..."

She's stalling, Harry gravely thought. When his normally stoic, no-nonsense doctor chose to focus on the smaller detail of his last statement his heart sank at the meaning behind it.

"And the results of his test?" Snape prompted, making Harry grateful he didn't have to ask because he doubted he'd sound half as put together as the professor.

Dr Swanson slowly shook her head negatively. "The blast count came back at six percent and, as you know, under five is considered remission. They're certainly heading in the right direction," she added, though it did little to make Harry feel any better, "but, unfortunately, you have not reached remission as of yet."

Harry swiped his eyes, refusing to admit how badly he wanted it to work, even if he expected otherwise. He'd read through the statistics and early remission was his best chance of beating Leukemia, particularly after a relapse.

"So what now?" Snape asked, frantically. "A different regimen, perhaps? Or a new schedule?"

With a heavy sigh, the muggle doctor stiffened her shoulders and assertively replied, "We keep going as planned for Cycle B-"

"No," Snape sternly interjected. "It's obviously not working."

"Severus," Dr Swanson pulled the results out of his file and leaned over to hand them to the professor, "it's going in the right direction. Typically with a relapse, a second remission can be harder to obtain, which is why Cycle B is still technically considered part of the induction phase... We're getting close, though, and I'd like to wait and see how this Cycle reacts. If we don't achieve remission by the end of the three weeks, we'll reevaluate other options."

"I don't want to wait," Snape demanded, slamming the results onto the small tray table between the three of them. "We waited an entire month before we knew about the relapse, what will wasting three more weeks do to him?! No... we need to be proactive in this and sitting here, continuing to pump poison into him that's not even working, is not going to do it!"

"That's not how this works," the doctor's firm voice rattled Harry's already anxious nerves. "You can't just magic his cancer away. It's a delicate balance between being aggressive and consistent and, frankly, something I am particularly skilled in navigating. You hired me as the person to make a decision in Harry's best interest, which is exactly what I'm trying to do."

"Technically," Snape stood and towered menacingly over the physician, "I hired Alton Smithe for Harry's care, and you simply inherited it."

If the insult bothered her at all, she never let it show.

"Dr Smithe is not a dedicated oncologist," the doctor hastily retorted. "Sure, he's educated in a little bit of everything to liaison between your world and ours, but this is a fully non-magical ailment and as such requires the expertise - of which I possess - of an oncologist if we're going to get him into remission."

"Muggle," Harry's small voice whispered, causing the two bickering adults to whip around and stare at him as if they'd completely forgotten he existed. "The word you're looking for is muggle, not non-magical..." he shook his head rapidly, "... it'd possibly breach the Statute of Secrecy to say the word 'magical' out in public like that, so we use 'muggle'... Though it doesn't really sound much less obvious, does it? If someone heard me say it, they'd probably ask what it meant and then how would I explain it?"

He frowned at the two sets of sympathetic eyes staring at him. Since learning he didn't hit remission in his first cycle, the young wizard hadn't said a word. Similar to how Dumbledore handled every aspect of his life before Voldemort's death, neither of the two adults overseeing his care thought to include him in their little tirade.

"Harry," Dr Swanson addressed him head-on, her almost condescending tone making Harry so uncomfortable he averted his eyes to focus back on his treatment schedule. "I'll admit, the news isn't what we wanted to hear, however, it's not a death sentence either. Your levels are decreasing and it's a promising sign to see. I promise you, at this time, the regimen you're on is still your best chance for a second remission. Nevertheless, if you -" she glared over to Snape, who appeared equally frustrated with his hands clasped behind his back, "-want to explore other avenues, I'll certainly go through them with you. Fair warning, though, the next protocols I'd recommend we explore either have a lower success rate or will be significantly more difficult on your body. It's why we leave them as a last resort when the reward is greater than the risk. If that is truly what you want, say the word and you'll go back home tonight while we make alternate arrangements for your treatment."

She stood in front of him without faltering, waiting for his response to her suggestion. This woman spent the previous year fighting for his life as much as him, yet in the past, he had no issues openly showing his dislike of her. She was even kidnapped because of him and never once held it against him. Could he put his animosity aside and go all-in on trusting her now, even if Snape didn't agree? If only he had a crystal ball hidden away - and any reasonable talent in divinations - maybe then he'd be confident in whatever decision he made. In the end, nothing in the lecture she gave made him want to immediately jump ship on his current treatment plan and that was the best he'd get.

Swallowing hard against his dry mouth, Harry asked, "Do you think I can reach remission again?"

"Can you? Absolutely," she almost arrogantly advised him. "Will you get there? No one knows that for sure, but I'm going to do everything in my power to give you the best possible outcome."

"How diplomatic," Snape sneered across the stiflingly hot room. Harry watched his mentor's facial features closely, recognizing the pain beneath his cold exterior.

Gritting her teeth, Dr Swanson said to Harry, "I'm not going to make a promise I cannot keep. Your numbers are still within a range making remission achievable. Now if I saw no movement or heaven forbid an increase in your counts, we'd be having a much different, more difficult conversation."

A million thoughts and scenarios raced through Harry's mind. He didn't want to upset Snape by agreeing with his oncologist, yet he needed to look out for his best interest. If he'd learned anything by living with Snape, he needed to practice some self-preservation and make a decision accordingly.

"Ok," Harry spoke so quietly, he was surprised the other two heard him, though based on their mutual surprised reaction, they obviously did. Just to make sure his wishes were fully understood, he added to clarify, "I want to stay on this treatment schedule and see how Cycle B goes."

Dr Swanson's smile wasn't nearly as smug as she rightly deserved, and Harry hoped his observation of it meant his viewpoint on her could come around. With a decision firmly made, Harry listened carefully as she went over, once again, what to expect when chemo started in the morning. His first round would consist of a twenty-four-hour IV chemo combined with supplementary medication and regular urine tests. One look at Harry's defeated face prevented her from heading into any more detail than necessary to get him going in the morning, and with a promise to explain as much or little during the next several days, she finally left the room.

"You're making a mistake," Snape eventually broke the tense silence first.

"Go to hell." Harry's voice cracked as he tried to keep himself together.

Snape threw down the book he'd been pretending to read., "You need to look out for yourself-"

"That's what I'm doing! This isn't your call to make!" Harry shouted, not caring if anyone in the corridors passing by heard him. "You're not the one sitting here, you're not the one who's going to die, so just stay out of it!"

"How ironic given the fact that until this moment you've hardly given a damn about your treatment!" Snape's hands were animatedly shaking as he spoke, emphasizing each demoralizing word he hissed at the young wizard laid up in his hospital bed.

"Get out."

Harry's words cut through the room's tension like a hot knife causing Snape to physically recoil and take a step back.

"Harry-"

"No," the Gryffindor threw his hand towards the door, imagining he had access to his magic again and was able to swing it open. "I said GO! I don't want you here anymore!"

Bitter silence followed Harry's demand and not wanting to see the look of Snape's shocked face, Harry pulled his green bedspread up to his shoulders then turned his back to the professor. Staring unseeingly at the picture frames covering his bedside table, he focused all of his attention on the one of the Quidditch Cup in his third year. Back then, things seemed easy. Sure, he may have thought a supposed mass murderer was trying to track him down and the dementors were bloody awful, but he never really feared for his life; not in the way he had recently, and definitely not in the seconds after Dr Swanson told him his bone marrow results. She was right, of course, he couldn't magic this away. There wasn't a cool new spell to learn to rid his body of it, or a protective enchantment to prevent it from seeping back into his bones. And similar to Snape - at least the man Harry knew in this reality - in Harry's third year, intimidating it or bullying it wouldn't make a difference either. Whether he liked it or not, his best chance at a second remission, and honestly surviving until next year, lay with Dr Swanson and her recommendation.

Harry hadn't the slightest clue of how long he laid there feeling Snape's burning glare lingering over his tired, aching, and uncooperative body. If forced to take a guess, though, he'd say it was no less than ten minutes, but equally might have been as long as half an hour. Anger and betrayal over Snape's accusatory reaction to their latest hurdle boiled inside of him and right at the moment he decided to remind the professor of his wishes for the other wizard to leave, he heard footsteps walking around his bed, then the door opened and firmly closed. Harry was now completely alone, exactly as he said he'd wanted, except he didn't really want that all. As if on cue, the galleon he hid in his bed started to heat up somewhere under his bum - having moved when he did throughout the bed - alerting him to his friends' reply.

RW: Hey there, mate. Sorry for missing this before, it was a rough dinner. No one can believe Malfoy got a whole year for not registering… and even if we weren't kind of friends now, I'd still think it's kind of crazy.

RW: How're things there? Hopefully, you have some good news on your tests, we can really use something positive right about now.

Harry's fingers hovered over the galleon waiting to make sure no one else chimed in before he scribbled his reply. When nothing else came through, he took a deep breath and sorted through his thoughts on the best way to tell them the news without adding to their miserable night.

HP: I can't believe it either.

The sentiment felt insincere written out like that, but he let it stand nonetheless.

HP: Got my results back and….

He paused, metaphorically standing at the crossroad, debating between doing the right thing or the easy one. Hastily, before he managed to talk himself out of it, Harry ran his finger over the coin to relay his message to his group of friends.

HP: …they were positive. Continuing with treatment as planned and with any luck, I'll be back in the castle by Saturday.

Technically not a lie, Harry justified the play on words to his advantage; after all, was it his fault if they didn't understand a positive test meant they found the Leukemia still present in his bone marrow?

HG: That's great, Harry!

GW: Congratulations! Finally, something's going right!

Confused by the anger he had at himself for being too cowardly to tell them the truth, the young wizard threw the coin with all his might to the far corner of the room, near Snape's empty bed, hardly able to hear the clinging of it hitting the linoleum floor. Although he had no one to blame but himself for Snape's absence and his friends' false hope, it didn't make the tears falling from his eyes any easier to handle.

~~~~SS~~~~

A cold, heavy rain started shortly after Severus and Harry arrived at the Guildford hospital, and while at first he considered themselves fortunate to have missed the dreary precipitation then, it seemed a fitting end to Severus's horrible day. He walked into the pelting, almost freezing rain completely numb to it. Somehow, in less than twelve hours he managed to lose the battles - entirely in one case, and partially in the other - for the two boys he cared about the most, and now he had nothing left. Defeated. Unbeknownst to why Severus paced anxiously around the walkway directly outside of the hospital feeling defeated and like a complete failure. Despite there being no more he could have done to prevent Draco's imprisonment or Harry's lack of remission, he perceived it his duty to protect the young wizards and he lavishly failed in the endeavour.

Why, for once in my life, can something not be easy?!

Running his hands through his now freezing cold, sopping wet hair, Severus mentally tallied all of the mistakes he'd made leading them to this spot. He should have questioned Draco more thoroughly about his registration - or at least verified it with Lucius during one of their many discussions since the day he learned of Draco's animagus abilities -, he should have anticipated the Aurors dropping in for an inspection on one of the most important days in Wizarding history, and he should have pushed harder last week about Harry's blood results. Looking back, his intuition told him the Gryffindor hadn't been well. Between him sleeping too often and not eating, deep down he suspected something awful was behind it. But just like Harry being a distraction when he learned about Draco's animagus form, the reverse happened. He'd fallen into a false sense of security due to his preoccupation with Draco's arrest, leaving him caught off guard on both accounts. And then losing his temper tonight with Dr Swanson - thus putting Harry in the awkward position of having to choose between trusting his doctor or the wizard he only really knew for about a year and a half - didn't help in the slightest. The sting caused by Harry siding with his oncologist hurt almost as much as him fully appreciating and respecting the Gryffindor's decision. Ultimately, Dr Swanson was as invested in Harry's remission as Severus and therefore he trusted her with his care. Legilimency wasn't needed to know how much she personally cared about all of her patients, no matter how much he wanted to use it on the muggle. But it didn't stop his initial need to blame someone, anyone, for Harry not reaching remission. Harry's battle became statistically more difficult in a matter of a night, and the thought of losing him a second time - third, if he counted the second Killing Curse - scared him more than he wanted to admit. Severus shook his head to clear the horrifying memory of his son's death; an image forever burned on the surface of his thoughts and merely covered to allow him to function.

Opposite to Harry with his team of doctors and nurses aiding him, Draco didn't have anyone looking out for him in Azkaban and with any luck, his next year wouldn't completely break him. The irony of it all wasn't lost on Severus. The Malfoy heir originally joined the Order to escape a potential Azkaban sentence, and yet his misguided decision to become an animagus turned out to negate every good act the child had done. To Severus, his deep-seated regret of how he handled the situation made it harder to accept. What if he managed to take the time to discuss it with his student? Might he have discovered Draco's lack of registration and been able to explain how no one outside of a curious third year Transfiguration student reviewed the registry? Sure, the Ministry gave the public - including the Prophet - access to the database, but the little the paper gained by scouring over the records meant most paid it equally little attention. To top it off, his kitten form blended in perfectly with the type of animals found at Hogwarts, meaning if the papers did announce his registration, the likelihood of anyone noticing him was small. The two points made this entire situation possibly - and probably - avoidable.

Fueled by his previously welled up rage seeping out of its normally secured barriers, Severus's pacing in the storming rain increased exponentially. Gratefully, the sour weather provided him with some semblance of privacy as he took one last turn - ending up facing towards the hospital doors - and kicked a nearby rubbish bin, unable to hear it rattling over an ironically timed clap of thunder. His breathing became laboured, and regardless of being out in the open, the non-existent walls around him started to cave in. This wasn't fixable. No amount of intimidation, research, or bribing made one damn difference in either case. As someone who thrived on living life similar to a chess game, always thinking five steps ahead, he began to unravel, alone and in front of a muggle hospital.

Think, Severus, you need to solve this one problem at a time. Step one… decide on a place to sleep.

He paused his trek around the pavement to solve this first, supposedly easy quandary, while actively avoiding the picture of Harry alone - albeit on a night without any chemotherapy - tonight formulating in his mind. The list of places available was longer than most other people in his situation had - Hogwarts, Spinner's End, Mae's - and yet the idea of grabbing a bottle of whiskey and a hotel room nearby almost beat them all. Returning to Hogwarts made no sense as to avoid any student encounters, he'd have to disapparate to Spinner's End first and take the floo directly to his Quarters. But similar to Hogwarts, Spinner's End held so many memories of himself and Harry, his chest physically ached at the mere thought of staying there for even one night. It left him with only one viable option, and although consciously he didn't want to arrive at his girlfriend's flat unannounced, his legs began to carry him there almost completely on their own, until he found himself a half an hour later standing in front of the brownstone building, completely unaware of what to say to her. Rain still poured down on him, but his hurried knocking on her door wasn't to get out of the storm; at least not the one around him, just the one battling inside of his head.

"They're not home."

The announcement came from a frail voice far too close to Severus for his liking. A swift turn to his right revealed an elderly woman - a neighbour, he guessed, who shared Mae and Jessica's drive - dressed in a soft pink raincoat with the hood pulled up over her head, carrying an umbrella in one wrinkled hand and a bag of groceries in the other. Out of instinct, the professor placed his wand hand in his coat pocket grasping his wand tightly.

"I beg your pardon?" He suspiciously asked.

"The two young ladies who live here," she added, nodding her head to the door behind Severus, "they aren't home right now."

"Do you think it wise to give out information as such to just anyone knocking upon their door," he reprimanded. "What if I were looking for unoccupied residences to burglarize? And offering this observation, unsolicited mind you, caused me to target their home."

The smile she gave as if his logical explanation meant no more to her than the rain pummeling down on them infuriated him.

"I've seen you around here enough to know you belong," she cryptically stated. To Severus, it meant she paid close attention to the flats around her and he needed to be more careful. "Hard to forget a fellow like yourself, I'm afraid, so if you are ever planning to rob the place, you might consider being a bit more conspicuous, overall."

Luckily, the darkness surrounding them, leaving him backlit by Mae's porch light, hid the slight reddening of his face. He'd been too careless lately, more so than ever before and during a period he needed to be at his best. Who knew how all these pieces would eventually fall into place and dammit if he found himself on the wrong end when they did.

"Well, I'm heading inside," she bossily pointed to the red door on the other side of the drive, "and out of this dreadful weather. You're more than welcome to wait for them in the warmth of my home... you certainly look like you can use more than a spot of tea tonight."

"No-" he started to flat out demand, but she interjected after his first syllable.

"Have it your way, dear... I suspect your young lady is better company for your sour mood than this old one. In that case, you better take this," the elderly neighbour held out her umbrella with a trembling hand and, without allowing the professor the chance to respond, she placed it in his left hand. "I'll collect it from your girlfriend when I see her next."

As she walked away slowly, not appearing bothered by the rain even no longer having her umbrella - which Severus silently admitted to its benefit in the absence of using his magic - he realized he never asked her name; another potentially harmful oversight on his part. If the neighbour kept such a close watch on Mae and Jessica's home to recognize the professor after his handful of visits, she was a significant enough person for him to need to do the same on her.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer never seemed more important to Severus than watching the shadowed figure of the elderly woman move about her home. Paranoia also was relevant, nevertheless without any solid evidence one way or another on the looming threats he needed to examine every strange encounter with the utmost scrutiny. Depressingly, too many witches and wizards - mainly Moody, Lucius, and Samson - would commend him on his excessive caution.

The professor continued to wait on the stoop of 7 Hillcrest Road, discreetly casting a warming charm every so often to keep himself comfortable, wishing to use a drying spell yet knowing if Mae and Jessica showed up soon he'd be unable to logically explain his dry appearance in the current weather. Each passing minute left Severus feeling like he failed in yet another aspect of the day until he eventually decided to cut his losses and go back to Spinner's End for the rest of his dismal night. He barely stood to make his way to a secure place to disapparate - more important than ever, with a nosey neighbour to contend with - when a set of petite figures made the turn onto the drive. Out of pure instincts, the former spy grasped his concealed wand for the second time in the hour, just in case the pair wasn't his girlfriend and her flatmate who hated him.

"Severus?" Mae raced up to him so fast her umbrella trailed behind her, causing her blonde hair to become matted down. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

The visible steam from her laboured breathing triggered the professor to run his hands up and down the sides of her arms in hopes of simultaneously warming her and improving his negativity through her touch. He tried to stay stoic, in the same manner he did back at the trial and in Harry's hospital room before he interrogated Dr Swanson; coincidentally, his girlfriend's boss.

"No," he breathlessly answered, "everything is not alright."

The wavering of his voice combined with the uncharacteristic insight into his vulnerabilities had Mae's brown eyes widening back at him. They never averted away from his own, a move he appreciated more than he'd ever be able to explain. The moment the significance of his declaration - Harry's bone marrow results, because she hadn't a clue of Draco's trial - dawned on her, she nodded her head and wrapped her arm around him, forgetting about the other woman in their presence. Ushering him confidently back towards her front door, she said, "Let's go inside where it's warm… and dry… then I want to hear exactly what happened at the hospital."

"What about Rawhead Rex?" The question Jessica posed came more as whining and obviously meant to inform him of ruining their plans for the night.

"It can wait until tomorrow, Jess," Mae told her, unlocking the door and holding it open for her flatmate and Severus to join her inside. "This is important."

"I'm on opposite of you tomorrow," Jessica complained, "so we won't be able to do this until Sunday night."

"I didn't realize -" Severus began, but was immediately cut off by Jessica, adding to his frustration.

"You might have known if you had bothered to call first," Jessica retorted, placing her hands firmly on her hips.

Severus's top lip curled as he tried to reign in his temper.

"Forget it, I'll just be in my room. Is he staying the night?" the angry nurse rapidly asked, then not giving the couple the chance to answer, added, "You know what? Just come and get me if he doesn't stay and we'll get on with our night."

If he were a better man, Severus would've had at least a minuscule amount of guilt for altering the friends' night. Instead, a sense of victory passed through his body watching the redhead storm up the stairs in a huff; a sly smirk crossed his face at the slamming of the door. Being on the other end of Harry's fits throughout the years made him no stranger to the familiar sound.

"Do you need…" he trailed off pointing to the stairs figuring she'd get the message he tried to convey.

Mae grabbed his hand and led him to the sofa in their small living room, "No, I think it's best to give her some time to cool off first. I'll go up and check on her in a bit if she's not down by then."

"What's gotten her so wound up tonight?" Severus scowled. "Dare I say there hasn't been one encounter we've had which hasn't been… rough."

"It was girl's night," Mae responded. Her regretful tone did its job in pouring a thick layer of remorse onto the professor. "We went to dinner and were about to watch our favourite so-awful-it's-almost-laughable, horror movie."

"Red down?" He squinted his eyes trying to remember the name Jessica practically spat at them.

Mae smiled, then laid down across the sofa and inched herself towards him until her head laid in his lap. "Rawhead Rex," she corrected him. "We're a bit of horror movie fanatics, and it's our top go-to 'pick me up' film." She paused, and although Severus wanted to ask about whose day was bad enough to warrant the film of choice, deep down he already knew before Mae continued. "She had a tough shift at the hospital. One of the physicians she knew pretty well came in after some freak accident this afternoon."

Suddenly, and against his will, Severus felt like a complete arse. He rubbed his hand down his face, breathing through another piece chipping away his resolve. He didn't want to break here. In fact, a part of him was counting on Mae to help him deal with his woes, not add to them.

"I should go," he said, though he made no move to remove the blonde's head off his lap.

"I told you," Mae lifted her chin slightly to get a better look at Severus. "I'll check in on her once she's gotten a chance to calm down. Trust me on this one."

Severus uncharacteristically shrugged but didn't offer anything else about the situation. He hated when Minerva placed her nose where it wasn't needed and he wouldn't be seen doing the same. Mae and Jessica's relationship fell on them to fix; he had plenty of other issues occupying his mind lately.

"So tell me about Harry," Mae eventually asked, sounding simultaneously clinical and deeply concerned. "You're supposed to be at the hospital with him, right? Then I'm assuming his tests weren't good? But then why are you here instead of with him?"

He released a shaky breath. Coming out of anyone else, the rapid-fire of personal questions would have set him off immediately, and although it made him uncomfortable and raised his irritability, he found himself wanting to tell her about his awful day.

"He didn't reach remission," Severus admitted, not understanding how much those four words were troubling him inside since he opened his eyes more than twelve hours ago. Back then, he fully expected Draco to go to Azkaban, albeit not for an entire year for not filling out a damn piece of paper and he didn't dare say it out loud, but he sincerely hoped to receive good news from Harry's test. It went against a particularly important rule he set for himself: the lower your hopes, the less it hurts when they inevitably fail, and he hated himself for breaking that rule.

"Oh, Sev," Mae whimpered, quickly moving up off his lap; a position he preferred over her facing him directly. "Do you have the results with you? What did Dr Swanson say about it? Actually, start at the beginning."

Without Mae laying on him any longer, Severus rested his elbows on the top of his thighs. Where should he start? She asked for the beginning, but how could he possibly explain everything going on with Draco?

"This morning, my student… the one I told you about at the clinic… was sentenced to a year. The severity of his sentence was clearly being used to make him an example." Hearing himself say the words out loud justified his true issue with the punishment: it was all politically driven and done to appease the public by putting the Malfoys in their "rightful place."

If Mae wondered why he chose to begin his answers to her questions with the story about Draco's trial, she did a wonderful job at hiding it. Rather, his girlfriend listened to him speak as if all along she knew Draco and the situation involved her as much as him. Unfortunately, the more Severus spoke - about the petty crime, how the wife of his good friend was or wasn't handling it, Harry's test and results, and his disagreement with Dr Swanson resulting in Harry kicking him out of his hospital room - the angrier he became from the injustice of it all. Neither boy deserved the fate they'd received today. Hadn't they all been through enough to last them a lifetime?!

"Can I see the results?" Mae carefully asked when Severus ended his story with how he arrived at her home.

Pulling the sheet of muggle paper out of his inside coat pocket, ignoring the lack of water damage due to its protection by his coat's impervious charm, he silently handed them to her not expecting any different answers than the physician gave him hours ago.

"Listen, I'm not the oncologist here, but I've seen a lot of these and it's not awful," she told him in an uplifting voice, grinding his fraying nerves. Her positivity wasn't wanted. He needed her support with him, not go against him. "He's still starting cycle B tomorrow, right? Dr Swanson wants him to continue? It's what I'd think she'd do, anyway-"

"That's beside the point," Severus aggressively countered. "He needed to reach remission now!"

"Of course," Mae recoiled at his firm tone used against her, "we all want a quick remission, but it doesn't always work out that way. Sometimes you have to fight a little harder and I'm telling you, these are promising-"

"I can't lose him, Mae," Severus practically yelled, leaving out the again he said to himself in his head; a piece of the puzzle he most certainly could not share with his girlfriend. "You don't understand!"

Adjusting her position on the sofa until she sat at the very edge, facing him head-on, Severus attempted to dismiss the fire burning in her eyes.

"Oh, I don't understand, do I?" She argued back at him, keeping her frustrations under control in a manner Severus usually did. "You mean I didn't watch my mother die from this or see children battling it every day... families torn apart right before my eyes?!"

He didn't answer her obviously rhetorical questions. Unable to sit still with the pressure building up inside of him, Severus stood and began pacing, running his hands through his still-damp hair, similar to his actions outside of the hospital after leaving Harry.

"You're lucky, Severus…" She eventually added, "Harry is lucky-" Severus's lips curled into a sneer at the dual statements meant to comfort him, except they had the opposite effect. They were not lucky. "It's hard to see down at this level… give it a month, listen to Dr Swanson, she knows what she's doing and she-"

"She's not doing enough!" He pulled the results out of her hand and shook them in front of her face. "And here's the proof of it!"

His screamed words vibrated against the brightly painted walls in the small home, however, he didn't care in his blinding rage. Also as a result of his rage, the professor failed to notice the door to Jessica's room click open and her soft steps on the stairs on her way to check on Mae after hearing the commotion.

"Severus," Mae approached him cautiously, "you've had a rough day and you can't make any decisions like this… not without all of the information-"

"I have all the information I need," he argued, his teeth clenched so tightly a headache draught was certainly in his future. "He's dying, Mae! Are you so naive you can't see it?! There is nothing I can do to stop it-"

"But there is!" She shouted back to him. "You have to trust-"

"You can't even begin to comprehend-"

"Then help me to!" He shook his head not hearing her plea over the sound of his heart beating into his ears. "You're not alone in this, Sev, you just have to-"

"I don't have to do a fucking thing!" He spat at her, officially going over his breaking point. "You want to know what's going on right now? I failed the two boys I promised to take care of. One is going to get his bloody arse handed to him after a year of wasting away in Azkaban, and the other is dying right before my eyes! And I can't do a single damn thing to help either of them! Why do I even bother trying so hard when it's clear their destiny - whatever the hell that means - has already been set into motion?!"

The room around him spun on its axis and the walls began to close in on him. His magic tingled wildly inside ready to lash out in a way it hadn't done since before he started at Hogwarts. He needed to leave, and quickly, lest things get out of control.

"I have to go." He rushed to the door, ready to get as far away as possible, convincing himself he was doing it to protect Mae. A lie, and a bad one at that. If he wanted to be honest, he was running away from himself.

"You're being ridiculous about this," Mae scolded, "let's just talk for a minute, will you?!"

"No," he firmly replied, then flung the door open ready to storm back out into the pouring rain.

"Wait," Mae begged, and in one last desperate attempt to prevent him from leaving, she made the terrible decision to pull on his upper arm in an effort to hold him back.

Reacting solely on impulse, Severus whipped around - imagining his absent robes still billowing around his body - and knocked his girlfriend's hand off of him with the force he would have once used on one of his fellow Death Eaters. She fumbled backwards, cradling the hand where he'd practically stuck her tightly to her chest.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" For the third time, Severus was caught off guard by the arrival - or announcement - of someone. This time, though, the declaration startling him came accompanied by the physical sensation of Jessica slapping him across his cheek. "Don't you ever lay a hand on her again!"

He should have walked away. It would have been easy enough with the front door wide open - soaking the small, entryway rug in cold rainwater - to simply turn and remove himself from the situation. But, of course, he didn't. Instead, in a flash Severus's hand closed tightly around Jessica's wrist, stopping it on its way for a second slap, and shoved her up against the wall to between the door and front window in the process.

"Get your hands off me!" The muggle within his grasp shrieked.

Although Severus heard her words, the meaning behind them didn't register in his mind. Grief covered by a layer of anger ran through his veins and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to do anything possible to regain control of his life. Mae's incomprehensible shouting did nothing to deter his grip from tightening around Jessica's small wrist, crescendoing to what, he hadn't the slightest clue. Suddenly, the entire window to their right shattered, shooting shards of glass and water across the three adults. The loud burst, followed immediately by the sharp stinging of the glass and cold liquid shook the professor out of his delusional world and back into the present. Fear to a level he'd never experienced before replaced all other emotions and in one hasty movement, he released his hold on Jessica and stumbled through the front door.

"Go on, you coward!" Jessica cried out at him through the doorway. "Get outta here and don't come back!"

Completely numb, her words didn't sting nearly as much as they should have. Severus Snape was no cowards and yet there he went, tripping on the gravel in his flight away from the Guildford flat, wondering if she was right about him all along, and if he were clear-headed enough to disapparate to Spinner's End without splinching himself again; not that he wouldn't deserve some kind of punishment for his actions throughout the night. Later, once Severus made it back home and finally settled down enough to look back on the night objectively, he would have many regrets - like his actions and words towards Harry, Dr Swanson, Mae, and Jessica - but missing the sight of the elderly neighbour watching him through her window into Mae's opened front door, more specifically the consequences of her spying, was one he never saw coming.

To be continued...
End Notes:
Coming up Next: Dr Matthew Taylor

A small disclaimer for this chapter and the story as a whole going forward: My goal when writing this is always to try to stay as true as possible, about the medical aspect of Harry's life - it's just who I am. But when balancing the plot and sticking to my POV characters, there are times where I can't do that and still keep the story progressing, therefore sometimes I will need to take some creative liberties on what Harry's going through.


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