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: 514945 Published: 15 Nov 2020 Updated: 30 Sep 2023
Draco's Secret by JewelBurns
Author's Notes:
There's a quote in the first scene that is an iconic movie quote but is different from the book. I used the movie version because it fit my purpose just a little better.

~~~HP~~~

Friday, 28 November 1997

"Seriously, what's taking them so-" Given his current audience, Harry balled his hands into fists to help him resist the urge to curse, "- so... long?!"

Harry, Snape, and Mae were sitting in Harry's hospital room, the young wizard on his bed with the two adults across from him, trying to pass the time by unsuccessfully playing a game of Monopoly while waiting for the results of Harry's bone marrow biopsy; to find out if he had finally made it into remission or needed to start a new regimen. Mae and Snape remained completely focused on the game, never once missing a turn. Harry, on the other hand, had no chance of it, even if the bloody answer was hidden somewhere on the gameboard.

There were many parts of Harry's illness that he absolutely hated, but the one no one ever seemed to mention was all the waiting. He waited for exams to begin, for treatment cycles to end, for the horrifying side effects to fade - or to discover new ones - he put his entire life on hold. Yet waiting for that night's results of the test Dr Swanson took over an hour ago had to be the worst of them all. To anyone else, he probably seemed impatient. And, to those people, he'd argue that they did not know what it felt like to know their life depended on a single test; to have to analyze every single twinge they felt and wonder if each seemingly innocent action was a warning sign of impending news.

Did his double daytime naps last week mean his blood cells were overcrowded? No, he usually slept a lot between his monthly inpatient infusions.

What about when his gums bled last Tuesday? When that happened before, changing his toothbrush made a difference. But was the bleeding more than last time? Didn't he just replace his toothbrush?

And, of course, the worst part of the worrying and waiting was how no one could answer any of those questions for him. Not Snape or Mae, no matter how badly they wanted to reassure everyone by telling him everything was fine, and not Kathleen when she said his vitals had improved over his last inpatient treatment. Dr Swanson was the only person who could confidently calm his growing anxiety, and until she walked through his door, all they could do was wait; something Harry struggled with even on his best days.

"I don't remember waiting this long before," Harry ranted, not caring if it was his turn to roll. His little hat sat in jail, so statically he'd be there another two turns, anyway.

"I can assure you, it was," Snape muttered with a hard sigh. After Harry asked the same question - in various formats - three times in less than a half-hour, the professor's stained voice highlighted his thinning patience. "And you were equally anxious back then."

"But what if it means they found something wrong? Remember my relapse? They left us sitting in that tiny clinic room forever." Harry completely ignored Snape's logical comment in favour of his panicked narrative. "I don't know what they were doing with it."

"Would you prefer they made a mistake or misreported your results?"

Harry's eyes squinted at Snape. "You realize you're proving my point, don't you?"

"Y'know, what I've learned helps to calm the nerves in situations like this?" Mae spoke up for the first time on the subject.

"I'll do anything!" Harry begged. Her voice sounded so upbeat and hopeful, that Harry figured her experience sitting with other patients in similar circumstances might provide him with some relief. "I'm literally about to lose my mind."

But rather than spewing some kind of insightful tips, Mae snatched the dice from the board and tossed them at Harry's chest, where they perfectly hit a button on his pyjama shirt before tumbling into his lap. "You play games and do other stuff to keep your mind off your report. Why do you think I brought a bag full of them?!"

Harry wanted to scowl, to show her how much his insides hurt from the pressure of his anxiety. Instead, her actions had the desired effect, and he smiled at his future father's girlfriend-

Wait a second? He thought, suddenly. Does she know about the adoption? Did she know before me?

Mae arrived at his hospital room shortly after his biopsy, carrying a large bag filled with board games, playing cards, and music. Although he and Snape had discussed her coming to support him, and Harry had hoped for her presence, it pleasantly surprised him at just how happy her being there made him. The three of them were feeling like a family. Except until the question of her knowledge about the adoption sprang into his mind, Harry hadn't considered how it might impact Snape's relationship with Mae. Did he think about her before petitioning to adopt Harry? What if she didn't want to possibly be the stepmother to a grown teen? Would it one day wedge a gap between them and break them apart? Thinking back, he was pretty sure when she first started dating Snape; she assumed they were biologically father and son, so the adoption shouldn't be a deal-breaker for her. But if Harry learned anything from watching everyone around him date, it was how girlfriends could be weird sometimes - and not in the Luna "cool weird" kind of way. How many times had Ron told him that Lavender got jealous when he had to go to Quidditch practice? And that was a sport, not another human being.

You're overthinking it, Harry, the teen scolded himself; he had his own demons to chase down.

"'m sorry, guys," Harry mumbled, interrupting the couple's discussion of Mae's offer to take the following Saturday off work to spend it with Snape, as the professor would be working at the lab most of the day Sunday. Harry carefully drew his knees as close to his chest as his lines and monitors would allow, then leaned against his bed frame. "I'm having trouble concentrating on the game right now. It's probably best to put it away."

The young wizard tried to ignore the pity in the pair of eyes staring back at him. Thankfully, no matter how hard they tried to understand - or how many other patients Mae had seen in a similar situation throughout her career - they had never sat in his position. They'd never truly know how deep his fear went as he watched the minutes tick away on the clock. It consumed him and made it impossible for him to do anything else.

Mae made the first move, leaving Snape's side to sit at the foot of Harry's bed.

"I know you won't believe me now," she started, "but no matter what Dr Swanson says tonight, it's going to be ok." Her gaze shifted to Snape for his permission to step in. Snape's eyes met Harry's and nodded slightly before turning his attention to cleaning up their unfinished game from the table between them. Regardless of how the professor made it appear, Harry knew he would listen to every word. "If you don't hit remission today, this is not the end. There are still a lot of moves and options left for you to make. And I can promise you that Dr Swanson will do everything in her power to take them. Then, if none of those treatments work, there are clinical trials going on every single day. Medicine is making leaps and bounds in leukemia medications… we'll find the right one."

He appreciated her jumping straight into a plan for the worst-case scenario rather than trying to tell him not to worry. This minor distinction always gave away the people who fought against a disease like this versus those who hadn't. He loved his friends and how supportive they were of him, but sometimes they couldn't understand why "it'll be fine" and "don't worry" never helped as much as they expected. He needed action and in its absence, he needed to know what they'd do if the "what ifs" happened.

"What if I'm not strong enough to get through it?" Harry's voice softened to barely a whisper when he asked the question. "What if I don't want to go through it?"

When his words reached Snape's ears, it was as if they had sucked the oxygen in the room out. His body stiffened as he deliberated over his next words. "As I've said in the past," he said, a slight tremble in his voice revealing his grief, "I ask that you speak with Dr Wright to be sure you understand the gravity of such a choice, and I'm confident Dr Swanson will also require this as a bare minimum before a decision of this magnitude. After that? Well, a lot will depend on the circumstances of the situation."

Appropriately, Mae stayed quiet while the future father and son silently stared off. Harry hated this new chemotherapy regimen more than his first one. No one ever got used to being constantly poisoned and he couldn't imagine what he'd face in a more aggressive treatment if he didn't reach remission tonight. Remembering the profound peace he felt in the place between life and death, where he met his parents, the easy decision would be to give up. He'd feel no more pain. He wouldn't suffer anymore.

There will be a time when we must choose between what is easy and what is right.

Out of nowhere, the words Dumbledore had said to him in his fourth year about Voldemort's return flooded back; relevant to his life once again, but in a very different way. Yes, if it came down to it, stopping his treatment would be the easy choice. He could convince himself that his friends would go on with their lives. They'd start their careers, get married, and have children, and while his absence would be difficult at times, they'd move on. Snape… well, the man had travelled to an unknown universe to save him, so Harry doubted he'd be able to move on so easily, but with Mae in his life now, he wouldn't be as alone during his grief. He'd have someone to lean on, and someone to support him.

Stay Strong, My Son.

Harry's hand reached over to grab his watch off the bedside table holding the inscription he read almost daily. Now it took on a whole new meaning. Yes, he would be Snape's son soon, however, he reread the first two words. Ultimately, Harry knew he still had so much to live for if he got the chance… if he was strong enough to take the chance.

"I want to stay in treatment," he declared, interrupting another muttered conversation between Snape and Mae he wasn't paying any attention to. In response, Snape moved to sit on Harry's other side, sandwiching him between the two adults who he might, one day, need to fully rely on. "No matter what the results are tonight, I want to fight until the end. Until there are no more options left. And I need you to hold me to it."

The statement lifted a heavy weight off Harry's shoulders. One he never realized he constantly carried around.

Still, Snape sounded unsure about his decision. "Are you certain you're doing this for you, and not because of a specific conversation we had earlier tonight?"

Harry saw Mae frown at the question. Snape shook his head at her as if to say 'I'll tell you later'. Perhaps she didn't know about the adoption, after all.

"Does it matter?" Harry looked between them. "Isn't that the kind of stuff that keeps us going through the hard times? Makes life worth living?"

"I suppose."

"The truth is," Harry started, releasing a cleansing breath, "thinking about my life outside of cancer, I finally have exactly what I've always wanted. I'm not ready to give it up." Snape's hand resting on Harry's knee gave a small, supportive squeeze. Harry smirked slightly. "Besides, when have I ever been one to take the easy way out?"

Mae, who did not understand the joke he made, did not laugh along with Harry and Snape

"You know, Harry, you don't always have to play the hero."

Snape said it as a statement, but Harry wanted to answer him. "I know. This time it's for me."

"In that case, I'll do my best to support you in any way you need me. However," Snape cautioned, "I also want you to give yourself some leniency. If, or when, the landscape changes, we may need to revisit the decision several times, and as I've previously stated, I simply ask that you come to me - or Mae, or Dr Wright, or Christopher - before you decide to stop."

The request seemed fair enough. Realistically, if things got bad enough, he'd probably change his mind at some point. The thought of that day caused such a lump in his throat that he nodded his agreement, afraid he wouldn't be able to get the words out clearly. Engulfed in the moment's seriousness, none of them heard the knock on the door behind them or the sound of it carefully opening until Dr Swanson's voice startled them.

"Sorry to interrupt," the oncologist said as she walked around the room into their line of sight. Harry immediately tried to read her body language for any hints of what she might know. Of course, he found none. She wasn't the type of person to clutch the folder any tighter based on its contents, or shift her gaze around the room to avoid him when delivering bad news. On the contrary, her confidence when she told him about his relapse was one of the few traits Harry appreciated about her. It made him feel as if his life mattered to her and she'd not only fight for him no matter what it took, she felt confident in her ability to do so.

"I take it you have news for us?" Snape nervously asked.

She lifted the folder. "Are you ready to discuss them now?"

The entire room turned to Harry, who needed to nod yet again because he didn't trust his voice to sound confident enough in answering.

"Alright, here we go. You had a six percent blast count in your bone marrow last month." As she spoke, Dr Swanson wrote her notes on the whiteboard next to his chemotherapy schedule for the week. "Obviously, we want to see as low of a percentage as possible because the lower it is, the more likely a patient will see long-term remission. I believe I told you last month that we consider a patient to be in remission if his or her blast percentage is less than five, and your sample tonight came back at under four percent."

The two adults on either side of him reacted immediately. Snape's grip on his arm tightened into a partial hug as Mae let out a small squeal, but it took Harry an extra minute to grasp his oncologist's words. His levels were below the remission threshold. He wasn't exactly where he wanted to be - he wanted to be at zero - and being just below the threshold scared him a little. Still, he made it to remission. Everything he'd gone through had worked and, hopefully, would continue to work.

"This is good news, then?" Snape asked, assuming Harry's lack of response was because he misunderstood the numbers. "Four percent is still manageable under his current regimen?"

"Yes, this is excellent news, especially when we consider how his numbers hardly budged after his first cycle," Dr Swanson explained in the same manner Harry associated with Hermione when she entered her 'teaching mode'. She turned to Harry to go through his next steps. "Your other blood results showed a positive trend as well, and based on your assessment of your symptoms, I'm comfortable keeping you on this regimen until April, or for as long as your body can tolerate it... the longer, the better. We'll continue to monitor your levels closely and make any necessary adjustments if they even hint at taking a turn."

For the first time in a long time, the wetness on the back of Harry's hand after swiping his eyes came from a place of joy rather than despair. He actually made it. He finally had a decent chance of beating it; to go on and live his life.

"This is good, Harry," Dr Swanson reiterated directly to him. "We've got you. We are going to get you through this."

Of all the words and phrases swimming in his head to choose from, somehow all he got out was, "Thank you."


Sunday, 30 November 1997

"Is that a new picture I see back there?" Christopher asked Harry midway through their puzzle of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Harry's arm paused in mid-air, leaving the random puzzle piece dangling over the unfinished picture, knowing without turning around that the Child Life Specialist was pointing to the picture of him and Luna at the Quidditch party. His girlfriend had given him the muggle version of it before they fell asleep in his bed on Friday night and Harry proudly placed it on his bedside table, where he kept all of his pictures, plus his enchanted galleon and magical sphere - the latter of which Snape had reminded him to pack for the nights the professor wouldn't be there. Harry, though, expected no one to notice the single picture addition.

"Yeah." He winced in pain, giving up on the puzzle in favour of wrapping the blanket around his waist a little tighter. The action was more to ease his discomfort at the conversation than him being cold. "She's kind of my girlfriend now."

Unfortunately for Harry, his joy at reaching remission was short-lived and by Sunday he was thrust back into the harsh reality of his same "aggressive chemotherapy". Dr Swanson woke him up early Saturday morning to get him started, and then the rest of the day was littered with infusion changes and vital checks. Yet, looking back at it, despite the constant stream of people passing through his door, Harry should have used Saturday to get up and move because the cumulative side effects hit him hard in the overnight hours into Sunday morning, leaving him sick and agitated.

Naturally, because of his mood, Harry should have expected Christopher to knock on his door less than ten minutes after Kathleen removed his first three-hour infusion of the day; no doubt at Snape's request on his way to pick up Draco and Dudley for their promised visit. Harry originally planned to sleep for a few hours before starting his twenty-four infusion. However, Christopher's arrival - or more his not-so-subtle suggestion of a change of scenery to help the teen's grumpy - killed those plans. Since the mere thought of showering exhausted him even more, he accepted Christopher's offer to help to move into the recliner where they continued working on the puzzle he started yesterday. Harry never intended to talk about his relationship with Luna, which was yet another example of Christopher's ability to lower Harry's guard.

"That's fantastic, Harry," Christopher nonchalantly commented, searching through the box of loose pieces stored on Harry's bed next to them. "It looks like she goes to your school. If you don't mind me asking, what's her name?"

"Luna," Harry answered, thankful for her relatively muggle-sounding name, unsure how he'd explain a name like Draco or Sirius. "Her name is Luna. And, yeah, she's a year behind me at school. She asked me to go with her to our school's game and things kind of took off from there."

Christopher placed the piece he'd found - the last piece to complete the top part of the tower - then looked up to meet Harry's dulled eyes.

"Compared to where you were when we first met, adding her picture to your display is a big step for you."

Harry hated to admit how much Christopher's praise meant to him. "It's not like I planned for it or went out looking," he argued. "It kind of… happened… one day we were friends and the next we kissed."

"Don't sell yourself short, Harry." Christopher casually crossed his right ankle over his left knee in a pose Harry'd seen Snape in a million times. It usually meant he was in for a lecture; a positive one, but a lecture all the same. "You didn't turn her away. Instead, you allowed yourself to make a new connection.

"You'd be surprised how many young leukemia patients I see come through here who believe because they have years of treatment ahead of them, they need to put their lives on hold." Harry felt the man's gaze on him, but didn't dare meet it. "I'd go out on a limb to say you used to be one of them."

The flinch on Harry's face more than gave away his confirmation on the subject; as recently as two days ago, in fact. Unable to bear the awkward silence, Harry rummaged through the box of pieces until he came across one he knew belonged on the grassy lawn directly beneath the iconic tower. For another four or five minutes, the pair shuffled the box between them, each finding - and failing - their own series of pieces.

"I saw your… I saw Severus on his way out." Christopher broke the friendly silence. "We spoke briefly at the nurse's station, and he mentioned a few friends are coming by to visit you today. Is she, Luna, one of them too?"

Suddenly, the temperature in the room felt like it increased tenfold. Here was a person whose opinion he looked up to, thinking he'd made some kind of breakthrough epiphany in his progress towards normalizing his illness, and in reality, Harry only agreed to the visit because it related to Draco's schooling.

"No," the young wizard ashamedly admitted. He looked down at his red and black buttoned pyjama top and jogging bottoms, practically dangling off his boney body. Then he turned to the surrounding room - the sick basin he always kept within arm's reach, the collector to measure his urine output he knew sat in the lavatory, and the IV pump constantly attached to him to provide his supportive medications; mainly his antiemetic and pain medicine. No, he wasn't nearly as healed as Christopher thought. "I'm not ready for her to see me like this."

Christopher, to his credit, didn't react beyond a small fist clamp victory when he found five puzzle pieces back-to-back. "What about the others? Why let them visit? What makes them different?"

"Honestly?" Harry leaned back in his chair. "I lived with them at some point during all of this. My cousin, Dudley, saw me at the beginning, at my aunt and uncle's house. Some of those were the worst because I didn't know what I was doing or what was normal. At least one night he saw me covered in my own vomit laying on the floor of the lavatory we shared.

"Then Draco-" Harry cringed at the Slytherin's name, but pushed on so as not to draw any attention to it, "he came to live with me and Severus at school last year during some of my harder rounds. Plus, he wants to be a doctor, so it feels less personal."

"So seeing you here-" Christopher waved his hands around the room, "won't be as awkward to you?"

"No. I guess it won't." Harry peered down at his crossed hands on his lap. "Does that make me weak?"

"Not at all."

"Even if I almost cancelled the whole thing?" Harry's voice hitched more than he liked when the words left his lips. "Because I considered it… and Severus would have supported me on it."

Christopher leaned onto the puzzle, his hands crossed, like Harry's, right in the middle of the tower. "It's good you didn't cancel. In much the same way as your body needs the support of your chemotherapy, your mind needs support from your family and friends."

Harry's green eyes shifted upwards right as a vigorous spell of vertigo struck him, and his breathing became more rapid. "Sev'rus said practically the same thing. S'why I'm letting them visit."

Harry felt Christopher watching him intently. "I won't lie, Harry. When I saw Severus out in the corridor, he asked me to stop in as soon as Kathleen left."

"Figures," Harry grumbled. Against his will, his heart raced and the young wizard closed his eyes, trying, in vain, to fight off the incoming wave of nausea.

"He means well," Christopher said, seriously. "Most of the parents and guardians do."

Harry wanted to tell him about the adoption. He probably would have, too, had he not needed to turn towards his bed to grab hold of the sick basin just in time to violently vomit into it. During his vomiting spells, Harry never really knew what went on around him, so he didn't notice when the familiar, powerful arms wrapped around his shoulders to hold him steady.

"You're alright, Harry," Snape's low smooth voice whispered into his ear. "You're alright. I'm here."

Those words, or more accurately, Snape's voice, almost immediately relaxed Harry's clenched stomach muscles, allowing him to stop fighting his body's natural process. How did the professor seem to know exactly when Harry needed him? When the nausea finally subsided and he slumped onto Snape's side, the reality of the professor's presence dawned on him: he would have returned with Draco and Dudley. On its own, the image of his friend and cousin walking in on him sick would have embarrassed Harry, so when he lifted his head to see three teenagers staring back at him, all behind their required medical masks, he panicked inside.

"Ron?!" Harry tried to exclaim, although it came out more like a hoarse whine. "What're you doing here?"

"Draco said you were alright with us coming to visit while he worked on something for school," Ron explained, as perplexed over Harry's reaction as everyone else in the room. "It's rotten luck Hermione woke up sick today. She said she can't come if she has a cold."

"She was correct in her assessment," Snape sternly replied. Turning to Harry, he said, "It still does not explain why you're surprised to see Ron here. Draco told me you asked for both Ron and Dudley to come along for his visit. Is that not true?"

Harry swallowed back a sip of his ginger ale, handing the glass to Snape in the same song and dance they knew by heart by now. The moment gave Harry enough time to mentally rewind to Friday afternoon when he was fairly certain he told Draco to bring Dudley, specifically not mentioning Ron because he feared the other wizard's reaction to the hospital setting.

"No," He croaked, shaking his head as much as his nausea allowed him to. "I figured Dudley'd help Draco out the most with the-" he stop short of saying 'muggle stuff', glaring towards Christopher standing across from him, "erm… his school stuff." Thinking quickly, Harry added, "And I'm only supposed to have two visitors, right?"

Harry's heart ached to see Ron's face turn bright red, the same shade as his hair.

"I can go," Ron started at the same time Draco called out, "Because Harry bloody Potter always follows the rules?"

Thankfully, Christopher came to the rescue. "During the day, we can be a little more flexible about the number of visitors, so long as you're all quiet and follow the rules."

The last condition made both Ron and Draco snicker.

"I'll keep them in line," Snape vowed. To the three teenagers, he warned, "Anyone who steps out of line will have detention with Professor Slughorn through the end of next year. Including you, Dudley."

"I don't think you can -" once again Ron started, but this time stopped by the death glare Snape sent him. "We understand, sir."

Whether Harry's newfound energy could be attributed to his friends' presence - Christopher and Snape certainly would make that claim - having Draco, Dudley, and Ron spread out around his room seemed to shift Harry's attitude up a couple of gears.

They started their afternoon with a game of chess, which Harry almost won because Ron became so distracted by the non-magical pieces he made what he referred to as "elementary mistakes" - the same term he once used to describe Harry's moves when they started playing first year. Ron had a similar reaction to the video games Christopher set up for them before he had to go to another patient's room, proudly declaring his job a success by leaving Harry in excellent hands and in better spirits. Slowly, as the afternoon went on, Ron's distraction by all things muggle morphed into pure fascination. So much so that as Harry watched his best friend's reaction towards the muggle hospital, he smiled at the flashes of Arthur Weasley he saw emerging. Opposite to Ron, Draco's attendance in Foundations, on top of dating Hermione, paid off for the Slytherin because he kept his composure whenever he came across any overtly new muggle objects, like the paging system they heard from the corridor asking for a nurse to check-in to the room next to Harry's.

Dudley struggled to keep from laughing at the two pureblood wizards' reactions, making Harry suspect watching them adjust to this new environment reminded him of his own challenges when he first arrived at Hogwarts and into the wizarding world. A pang of sadness ran through Harry's chest as he realized what Dudley had given up after his parents died. The parallel sometimes came too close to Harry's own journey for him to handle, so he had to push the creeping emotions to the side to enjoy the moment in front of him. For Harry, he sat in awe at how natural the visit felt. Sure, he was still completely exhausted, his body protested every move he made, and they had to pause their video game twice because he got sick. Yet his friends never complained and remained extremely patient with him. They helped where they could, then continued with their activities as if his disruption was nothing out of the ordinary. For once, Harry dreaded the thought of them leaving around dinnertime.

Kathleen arrived promptly at one o'clock to start Harry's twenty-four-hour infusion. Snape took the lead in introducing Draco to the head nurse as a prospective medical student who wanted to learn as much as he could to supplement his limited prior experience in the field. Kathleen jumped at the opportunity and excitedly explained all of Harry's medications and procedures, and recommended books for Draco to read in their library. While she was doing this, Harry's attention kept going back to Draco. The Slytherin, in Harry's opinion, appeared uninterested for someone who needed electricity explained to him less than two months ago. Every now and then, Harry looked over at Snape. The professor seemed to be more engaged in Kathleen's description of the process than Draco, and if he had any skepticism regarding Draco's lack of interest, he never acted on it, though Harry doubted it went unnoticed. The muggle nurse finished her visit by outlining his schedule for the rest of the night, which included another three-hour infusion starting at half-eight, taking Harry's vitals, and recording his fluid outtakes; a process Harry was eternally grateful she didn't describe as thoroughly as his infusions. While he agreed to help with Draco, he preferred to keep his dignity in the process.

By two o'clock, they were on their own again, and Draco arrogantly challenged Ron to a game of chess. Only fifteen minutes into the unsurprisingly even match - having played both Ron and Draco at the game -, Snape stood up from the small sofa.

"Harry," the professor asked the young wizard, who was sitting up in his bed, playing a terrible game of poker with Dudley, "do you think you'll be alright if I step out for a few hours?"

"Aren't you supposed to be supervising the rule-breaking Gryffindors?" Draco laughed.

The scowl Harry sent across the room held little fire in it.

"Thank you for your concern, Draco," Snape said through his clenched jaw. "As adults, I'm confident you can all behave for a few hours. If you need some added encouragement, the consequences still apply and will double if anything should happen while I'm away."

"Fair enough," Draco muttered, though Harry wondered how he planned to double an end-of-year detention on seventh years.

"I'll be alright, Severus," Harry said in response to his original question. Though, given his regimen, they both knew it was the unexpected that caught them off guard more than anything else, like a seizure or random fever caused by his blood counts dropping. Throughout this journey, they quickly found it best not to focus on those rare events. "Are you going to see Mae? I'm surprised she hasn't already stopped by yet."

"Yes," Snape confirmed, albeit a little more grudgingly than Harry expected. "I'm meeting her downstairs before we-" he motioned to the other three teenagers, "-have to return to the school."

Ron burst out laughing. "You're afraid to introduce her to us, huh?"

They all froze in place, waiting for Snape's reaction to a comment which would have easily gotten Ron skinned alive two years ago.

Snape slowly licked his lip, never losing eye contact with the red-head. "I believe you're getting entirely too comfortable in my presence, Mr Weasley." Then he turned to Harry. "Please use your coin to contact me if you need me. I'll be right downstairs."

Harry nodded, and the room of teenagers sat in silence for a full three minutes, each believing their professor would be back any second as a test. When it became apparent he'd truly left, Harry looked around at his friends and asked, "Wanna check out the Hub?"

"Harry, have you gone mad?" Ron's brows lowered in deep concern. "Aren't those on a vehicklyles? My dad has 'bout three sets of 'em lying around somewhere. As far as I know, he hasn't ever figured out why they're used for."

Harry shook his head in fun. "It's like a common room set up for the patients. There are more video games, movies, and board games there. Oh, and Kathleen said something about a new foosball table."

Draco jumped up from the chessboard, ready to go, while Ron nervously looked at Harry. "Can you… y'know… go there connected to-" he gestured to Harry's IV lines.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can manage perfectly fine." To prove his point, he pushed himself off the bed and stood, making sure he was stable before adding, "We may need to walk a little slow, but I got it."

It took Harry a whole three steps out of his room before he regretted his suggestion. What if it was busy in the Hub? Every so often, when he peeked in during one of his "good for him" walks around the ward, the space looked busy. Did he really want to cross his two worlds? Three worlds if he separated his muggle and wizarding background. Suddenly, what seemed like a good, fun idea had his stomach in knots the closer they got to the door of the Hub.

Thankfully, when the four of them entered, there were only three other people in the room - a patient Harry didn't recognize with someone who looked like his brother, and Joseph, the quiet boy from his first support group meeting. Even better, as Harry and his friends crossed the entire room to the new foosball table added near the left-hand wall, none of the other people paid them any attention. Being the only one who knew how to play the game, Dudley volunteered to start and challenged Draco to the first game. The two oddly paired friends got in place on each end, leaving Harry and Ron to watch at the booth style table nearby. Strategically, Ron chose the side facing the TV Joseph had on to a movie Harry had watched once or twice in his room to pass the time, and Harry sat on the other end across from him - just in case he needed a quick exit.

"Why can't we do something like this?" Ron asked, waving his hand at the television. "We have moving pictures, for Merlin's sake. You'd think in the last decade, we'd be able to replicate a tele."

"You tried once," Dudley offered, matter-of-factly, keeping his attention on shuffling the little ball between his players. "We teach a whole lesson on it in third year Muggle Studies. Back in the early 1980s, a group of you petitioned to create a specific network, but it got denied by your Ministry."

"Bunch of tossers," Ron grumbled. "Why'd they go and do a thing like that?"

Dudley's eyes rapidly scanned the table to find his next move. Once he decided upon it, they locked in place as he took a hard turn of the knob to send the ball sailing down the table so fast that Draco didn't stand a chance at stopping it. It hit the back of Draco's goal slot with a hard bang, signalling another point for Dudley.

Dudley held his hand up to Draco to pause their next round for him to explain the issue. "Like almost everything you lot worry about… the Statute of Secrecy. They were worried about what might happen if the wrong sort accidentally picked up your specific network."

"So what?" Ron boldly argued. "It's not like they'd understand any of it."

"Maybe not, but they'd sure as hell ask a lot of questions," Dudley smirked. He walked over to their table and pulled up a chair on the end next to Ron. With no one to play against, Draco followed suit, pulling another chair up next to Harry. "I can tell you from experience, if the wrong population saw an entire show dedicated to the top gardening tips like degnoming even the sneakiest of garden gnomes or what to feed your Chinese Chomping Cabbage, it'd be difficult to cover it up."

"I disagree." Draco tipped his chair on its back two feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "Muggles will make up excuses for the things they can't explain. It's part of their nature… take a look at Stonehenge. They'd come up with some half nonsensical explanation for the brief glimpse of a show they happened to run across and then debate about it for decades."

"Then why have the statue at all?" Dudley questioned, logically.

Harry held his breath, not liking where the conversation was headed. At his core, Draco was a pureblood wizard, raised in a fully magical world. Yes, dating Hermione and seeing Harry's unique medical struggles challenged the Malfoy heir's views, but he still had at least fifteen years of his parents' lessons to fight against.

"To protect ourselves," Draco replied as if the answer was tattooed on his forehead. "My family made our fortune off of selling potions to the muggles back in the pre-Statute era. They were all over us because we can do things they cannot. The main reason we had to create the statute was because when we stopped doing their bidding, they turned against us and instead of dominating them as the superior beings… sorry, Dudley… we hid… like rats in the sewer.

"Take these masks, for example." Draco pointed to all of their faces. "With the right magic, we wouldn't have to wear them. If it doesn't exist already, I'd bet my inheritance vault Severus could revise the Bubble Head Charm in a day to filter the air coming in instead of providing it. But, no, they had to go and get greedy centuries ago. And here we are."

Harry thought Draco was exaggerating the truth a bit, but also thought crossing that line - the one which caused two wars in his lifetime - while sitting in the middle of a muggle hospital was not a good idea either.

"I don't mind wearing the mask much anymore." He tried to sound upbeat about a situation he previously argued with Snape over. "But you'd better get used to the muggle way of doing stuff if you're going to be in a dual practice."

"That's where you're wrong." The smug look on Draco's face told him he'd regret going there. "If you remember correctly, which you obviously don't, my practice is going to be set in our world and specialize in both worlds' diseases. Sure, I'll have to know how specific procedures work here, but I won't be nearly as limited by-" Draco looked around,"-all of this."

Harry squinted his eyes at the Slytherin beside him, recalling Draco's bored expression as Kathleen went over the details of his medications and how they work. Something didn't add up. Someone like Draco didn't voluntarily enter the muggle world without a reason, especially to a place like this without using it for his school or Hermione. "If you don't intend on working… here… why did you bother coming today?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." The minor hitch in Draco's voice reinforced Harry's theory.

"You even pay any attention to Kathleen explain-"

Draco uncharacteristically interrupted the Gryffindor to defend himself. "I listened to every word your medi… whatever they're called here-"

"Nurse," Dudley bravely offered.

"-Your nurse said about how your contraption works." Draco haphazardly tossed his hands towards Harry's port. "And I copied down the list of every text she recommended I read, which I fully intend to do."

"Then why did you look like you were being forced to sit through double history with Professor Binns?"

Draco's eyes darted around the room. Whatever the Slytherin had on his mind, he clearly hadn't expected Harry's inquisition.

"What are you doing here?" Harry bluntly asked when Draco failed to respond. "And why did you tell Severus to bring Ron along when we specifically talked about bringing Dudley? No offense, Ron."

"None taken," the other wizard said. "I'm pretty curious 'bout this, too."

"This isn't how I planned it to go," Draco whispered, seemingly to himself. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, Harry noticed a calmer expression reflected in them. "Listen, I might have a specific agenda behind my organizing this little rendezvous. One which required Ron's presence too, so I don't have to do this twice."

"O- ok," Harry replied cautiously, peering at Ron across the table. "We're listening."

Draco stretched his arm onto the table, before folding them neatly in front of him as if preparing for an interview with the Ministry. "I think we can all agree there's been a lot of strange shite going on lately. I almost drowned in my own common room, nearly got killed by a fallen staircase in Hogsmeade-"

"-I doubt the staircase would've killed you," Ron muttered, though the statement went unnoticed by the Slytherin.

"I got sent to fucking Azkaban on a bollock charge," Draco practically yelled, not letting Ron's interjection distract him. "It's a lot of shite and while you two-" he pointed between Harry and Ron, "might be used to a year like this, I am not. And it's made me reevaluate some pieces of my life… One of which is my relationship status with Hermione."

"You bloody coward!" Ron slammed his hands on the table so hard that Harry was mentally prepared to have to break up a fight between them; unsure if he'd physically be able to. "If you came here to tell us you're dumping her-"

"What?!" Draco exclaimed, completely taken aback. "I want to propose to her you prat!"

A long, pregnant pause fell over the table as his words sank into Harry's mind.

"P-propose?" Ron stuttered, as shocked as Harry by the declaration. "Are you seriously asking us for permission to propose to your girlfriend?"

"Merlin, help me." Draco frustratedly wiped his brow with his hand. "I'm not asking you for permission," he clarified in a very low, quiet voice. "I'm asking you… or at least that's what I'm attempting to do… if you think she'll say yes.

"One of my best Slytherin traits - and one you Gryffindors can't begin to understand - is actually thinking before I jump-" Harry smirked at Ron's hard eye roll "-So, while I'm relatively confident she'll say yes, I don't fancy permanently damaging our relationship by asking too soon. My immediate concern used to be her career ambitions, however being married has no negative implications on starting a non-biased journal, a career I fully support her pursuing."

Despite how badly Harry wanted to keep taunting Draco, he had put a lot of forethought into it. Still, the idea of one of his best friends getting married left him nervous inside. For one, there was the nightmare he had about their wedding where they were attacked, but something else bothered him too. Even in his dream, his subconscious imagined them as older rather than school-aged teenagers.

"You're only seventeen," Harry pointed out. Cotton seemed to fill every available space in his head. The bundles kept coming, making it impossible for him to understand his emotions surrounding the announcement. "Aren't you both kind of young for such a big step?"

"'Moine's eighteen." Ron shrugged. "And they're both adults in our world."

"You're not helping," Harry growled to Ron.

Draco waved off his concern. "Like you're one to talk, Potter. Your parents practically had you before they left Hogwarts."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but stopped short. Draco was right, of course. He, Ron, and Dudley were all born to parents much older than Harry's at the time of his birth. To make matters even stranger, his parents, like Draco and Hermione, went from hating each other at the end of their fifth year to almost married by the end of their seventh.

"That's different." Harry sat up as tall as possible, hoping to appear more confident. "They were in the middle of a war. A lot of people back then made impulsive decisions because they thought they'd get killed before having the chance to do any of them."

Draco's demeanour changed from defensive to compassionate; probably the only reason Harry took his next words to heart. "It's how I feel, too, Harry," he answered in the most serious voice Harry had heard from him. "I love Hermione and I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with her by my side… no matter how long, or short, I might have left.

"I know I said I wanted to hedge my bet on her answer, but I also want your approval too. Both of you are her best friends. She'll look to you for support and would like your support in our relationship. Otherwise, we'll all make each other miserable for the rest of our lives."

Yet another correct statement neither Harry nor Ron could deny. Regardless of his personal feelings about their young engagement, they'd been dating for over a year and Hermione truly loved him; Harry knew that for sure. If he and Ron didn't support them now for no reason other than their pettiness, she'd never forgive them. Draco had been good to her, and as a couple, they brought out the best in each other. What more could he want for his best friend? Catching Ron's eyes, Harry gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"She'll say yes," Harry announced, genuinely excited for the couple. "And we support you guys full-heartedly."

Draco's smile lit up their corner more than any ray of sun. Right then, Harry knew they made the right decision.

"In that case," Draco said in his more typical arrogant drawl, "you are both cordially invited to Malfoy Manor to help me pick out the perfect ring from the Malfoy family reserves."

To be continued...
End Notes:
Coming up Next: The Missive

Quick Note: The next chapter is done already (written, polished, and as edited as it's going to get) but I need to wait to post it until the following two are written. I'm hoping it will be no more than two-ish weeks, but given what's going on in the next three chapters, the series of events and details need to be right before they get posted, especially because I'm not holding before posting anymore. If I can execute this right, hopefully, it'll be worth the wait.


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