Harry struggled to focus on his Transfiguration text, his mind scattering all over the place. McGonagall had pointed out the important sections for reference to his summer essay, but he felt like he hadn't comprehended one sentence of it. Plus, it was his first week of summer after his O.W.L. year. Surely, that meant he deserved a break.

"This is pointless," Harry sighed, tossing his text to the side.

"I assure you the assignment isn't pointless if you wish to learn if you possess the ability to become an Animagus," McGonagall said, picking up the text from where it lay open, flipped awkwardly against the bed. "Destroying your textbook isn't going to help

"Sorry. I just can't concentrate," Harry laid down, facing away from his professor. She had insisted, more like demanded, he eat more than a few spoonfuls of oatmeal, which of course just came back up less than an hour later, and then proceeded to give him the last Transfigurations lecture he had missed since he had been in the Hospital Wing. While he appreciated her help, Harry just wasn't up to concentrating on anything. His head hurt from Voldemort's attack and the pain meds worked to take away the worst of the pain, but still left a lingering headache for him to deal with. On top of that he was still battling the constant nausea that refused to lessen, and he couldn't find a comfortable position no matter how much he tossed and turned.

Harry reached behind him for the button attached to the PCA pump as his pain started to increase. Breathing through the oncoming pain escalation, he pressed the button down, releasing another boost of morphine into his body. He hated how often he was relying on that button, as the baseline dosage Miss Adamson assigned the pump to release every four hours wasn't cutting it.

"Is there anything I can do for you," McGonagall asked, her hand rubbing his back. Her fingers rubbed against bone that a layer of lean muscle covered a month ago. He despised reminders of his physical state, how much he had let himself go after Sirius' death. It brought to mind how he normally looked at the end of a summer spent with the Dursleys, but he knew he was even more skeletal now.

"No," he pulled the duvet up to create a thicker layer between his back and his professor's hand. Severus' touch against his back was lighter and more comforting, only pressing down to work out a knot. "When will Severus be back?"

"I'm not sure. He said he'd back in a few hours, so that should be soon," she said, her voice taking on an offended tone. Harry knew he should respond, but he didn't have the energy, not to mention he did wish Severus were the one sitting with him at that moment. He was tired, but he refused to fall asleep again until the Potions Master returned, afraid that Voldemort would try to attack or send him a vision in his dreams.

-----

After gaining permission from Althea Kingston, Severus left the Ministry with the wooden box held safely in his arms. He still couldn't believe the contents of Lily's letter. How had he not realized he'd been obliviated, or rather that he'd obliviated himself? He regularly scanned his mind to check for signs of an obliviation, but he had never even suspected he had missed one.

How was he going to tell Harry? He felt horribly guilty, guiltier than he had ever felt in his life. Severus couldn't believe he had willingly given up his son, the child that Lily and James had gifted him with. His guilt only compounded as he realized what that one decision caused for Harry. His son had suffered through life as an unwanted orphan, raised by neglectful, if not abusive relatives. Merlin, would Harry think Severus hadn't wanted him? The last thing he wanted the child to think was that he was unwanted or the result of an accident.

Would Harry even be happy to hear his biological father was alive, and that he, the acerbic Potions Master was his father? Severus knew he wasn't the most approachable or affectionate person. He could even admit that he was a right bastard when he wished to be. Would that be someone Harry wanted as a father? He couldn't change who he was, not entirely. He'd been through too much for that. And Harry was almost sixteen. In a year, the boy would be legal in the wizarding world. Was it too late for him to want and need a father?

But Severus knew all those questions were for nothing if Harry didn't survive his battle with leukemia. The chances were overwhelmingly in Harry's favor, yet odds didn't apply to his child. Lily and James had sacrificed too much for a child that wasn't meant to be theirs for Harry to die now. But maybe this latest revelation was much more than a surprise, but a means of survival for his son. If Harry didn't achieve a remission or relapsed, they'd have to consider a bone marrow transplant, and his son's odds of having a matching donor just went up. Even better, Severus was the child's father, making the odds that their blood and magic matched even better, unlike the Muggle world where a sibling was the best chance. There was an equal chance the boy took after his mother's side in both blood and magic, however, and Severus hoped they didn't have to explore the option of asking those Muggle relatives to get tested. Better yet, he hoped Harry never needed a bone marrow transplant.

After apparating back to Hogwarts' gates and replacing his glamours, the Potions Master walked up to the Hospital Wing instead of straight to his quarters, just in case. Severus had to know if he was a match or not. If he wasn't, he'd find someone magical who was even if he had to resort to the use of the Imperius curse to convince people to get tested. There wouldn't be a question if they could find a match when and if it came time for Harry to need a transplant, not if Severus had anything to do with it.

"Poppy!" he called out as he entered the Hospital Wing pocketing his glasses before she could insist on checking his eyes.

"Severus?" she questioned while she walked out of her office. "Is something wrong with Harry"

"No," he shook his head. Severus rolled up his right shirtsleeve once he placed the box down. "I need you to draw a blood sample. I want it sent to St. Mungo's to check if I'm a match."

"But it's unlikely Harry will need a bone marrow transplant, and even unlikelier that you're a match," Poppy said, not budging to go retrieve the necessary supplies.

"I don't care! Just do it!" Severus snapped, striding over to Poppy's supply cabinet to retrieve the proper kit. He was going to do this whether Poppy helped or not. "Are you going to help, or are you going to stand there and watch while I try to draw blood with my left hand?"

"Sit down," she pushed down onto the nearest bed while grabbing the kit from his hand.

"Don't forget to use non-latex gloves," Severus said to her as he watched her retreat to the sink to wash her hands. The last thing he needed was for latex remnants to remain on his skin, waiting to come into contact with Harry.

"I've banished all the latex ones." Poppy proceeded to wash her hands and put on a set of gloves while Severus used an alcohol pad on the inside of his right arm near his elbow. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

"Yes," Severus scowled as Poppy tied the tourniquet tightly around his arm. The Meditwitch wasn't very skilled when it came to drawing blood since she rarely had the reason to collect blood samples.

"Ready?" she asked, taking a hold of his arm with her left hand while bringing the needle close with her right.

"I'm not five," he reminded her as he braced himself for the slight pinch, only Poppy's slight pinch felt like a knife stabbing into his arm. It took all he had to not pull his arm away, thanking himself endlessly that he had insisted on drawing Harry's blood, even when he didn't like the child. This was torture compared to what drawing blood should feel like. "Poppy," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Sorry," Poppy withdrew the needle. "I missed your vein."

"Hand me the needle," Severus demanded. Poppy placed a new needle into his hand. "Hold my arm steady and be ready with the collection phials.

Severus carefully pressed the needle into a vein, relaxing at the small pinch before letting Poppy collect three phials of blood. Then, he withdrew the needle and held a pad of gauze to his arm until Poppy pushed his hand away to properly heal it with a simple spell.

"Thank you," Severus said as he rolled down his sleeve. "I expect this will be kept between us," he glared at her, not yet forgiving her for telling Harry's friends.

"Yes," she nodded with her eyes averted.

"Good. Let me know when the results come back," he hopped up from the hospital bed, feeling like he had done something to help his son as he picked up the wooden box and left the Hospital Wing to return to his quarters and Harry.

-----

Harry fought to keep his eyes open. Miss Adamson had come to change his chemo bag, and upped his morphine dosage so that he was finally pain free. He felt like he was almost floating, amazed by much better he felt. If speaking up about his pain meant this as a result, Harry would never deny he was in pain ever again. The morphine was working so well that he didn't even feel the low-level constant burning from his scar that had remained since Voldemort possessed him at the Ministry.

"Harry," Severus whispered as he felt the man place the back of his shaking hand across his forehead to check for fever.

"Hmm?" he questioned, ready to allow himself to sleep now that Severus was back.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good, tired," Harry murmured while his eyelids drooped close.

"Go ahead and sleep." He heard the Potions Master let out a weird sounding chuckle as he slipped into dreams, succumbing to a promising chance for several hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Harry didn't know how long he slept, but when he woke up he felt well rested for a change.  His limbs didn't feel as heavy, and his mind wasn't trying to run off in ten directions at once. Stretching, Harry wondered where Severus had gone. It was the first time he had woken up without the man by his bedside since starting chemo. He put his glasses on and slid out of bed before wrapping his hand around the cold metal pole of the infusion pump to push it into the bathroom ahead of him.

After thoroughly washing his hands and splashing warm water on his face to get rid of the crusty eye junk that had accumulated on his eyelids, Harry returned to his bed. He was determined to get a start on his summer homework while he could think clearly. Despite hating homework, Harry didn't want to fall behind his classmates and knew that Snape's suggestion of starting his Sixth Year coursework early was a sound idea.

As he began to open his Transfiguration text to the first page McGonagall had marked for him, Harry caught a large navy blue blob out of the corner of his eye. He looked over to the chaise lounge to see his professor curled up fast asleep. Harry smiled and returned to his text to read about basic human transfigurations, leaving the Potions Master to catch up on his rest.

Two feet into his essay Harry heard his professor start to stir. He ignored the noises, hoping he'd finish the last foot of his essay before his attention waned. He just had one more point to argue before scribbling down a conclusion, and then he could check off one subject as done.

"What are you working on?" Severus asked a few minutes later as Harry felt the bed dip.

"Transfiguration," Harry mumbled, not even bothering to look up. He was too close to finishing his conclusion for his concentration to break. Scribbling down the last few sentences before he could forget them, Harry smiled as he wrote the last period to end his essay. "Done," he said looking up at the Potions Master.

"May I look over it before you hand it in?" Severus asked.

Harry blinked. "Uh, yeah, just please try not to mark it up as much as you do my Potions essays," he stumbled over his words, not believing he was voluntarily giving an essay to Hogwarts' harshest grader to look over.

"I'll try," Severus smirked as he handed over the essay to his professor.

"You're wearing blue?" Harry blurted out upon realizing the oddity of seeing his professor in any color other than black or white.

"I do own other color clothing besides black," the Potions Master quirked up one eyebrow, "or does that knowledge nullify the rumor that I'm really a vampire?"

"Professor," Harry rolled his eyes, "I never believed you were a vampire."

"It's Severus, and are you sure? Not even as a first year?"

"Okay, maybe for my first month at Hogwarts, but it was mostly Fred's and George's fault," he confessed pulling up his duvet to hide behind it.

"Did I not eat at the Welcoming Feast?" Severus tugged the duvet from his grasp.

"Well, I was eleven. It's not like I was the smartest person back then," Harry tried to defend himself though he couldn't stop blushing from embarrassment. Really, now that he thought about it, the rumors that Severus was a vampire were rather silly.

"Indeed you weren't, though it was no fault of your own since eleven year-olds shouldn't know everything." Severus reached over to pull the hood of his hoodie up over his head, extending it over his eyes. "Come, let's use this sudden burst of energy you have to procure something to eat."

"Ugh," Harry sighed. "Do we have to?" His nausea was a constant reminder that food wasn't a good idea, no matter how good he might be feeling compared to earlier.

"Yes. I'm sure we can manage to find something that doesn't absolutely disgust you. Bring your wand, we'll work on your magic at the same time," Snape said as he stood up from Harry's bed.

"Fine, but I'm not sure we'll find anything," he grabbed his wand and shoved it in the front pocket of his hoodie before standing up and following his professor into the kitchen.

-----

After a light dinner of rather burnt toast and applesauce for Harry, and soup and salad for himself, they retreated to the sitting room to play a game of chess before he needed to leave to attend the Order meeting. "We'll need to address your toasting skills at some point," Severus smirked as he levitated the chessboard over to the coffee table.

Harry rolled his eyes, his hands busy with petting a purring Flurry as she lay in his lap. "What if I wanted my toast burnt?"

"Then you're certainly adept at that. White or black?"

"White. I need all the help I can get," Harry confessed.

Severus watched Harry contemplate his first move. It was so weird to be in the same room as his son, teasing the boy over his overenthusiastic toasting spell. Would this be how it was once Harry got over the initial shock of him being his father? This felt comfortable and strangely natural like a part of him remembered being a parent.

It was amazing how quick he was warming up to the idea that Harry was his child. Perhaps knowing the truth had somehow weakened the obliviation, or he was processing his feelings correctly for the first time. Since he spotted the tiny eleven year-old walking into Hogwarts' Great Hall, he felt strong feelings towards the boy. Had his brain been misinterpreting his feelings by drawing on his constructed hate for James? An Obliviate could only do so much. It erased the chosen memories, but there was no concrete evidence showing how an Obliviate affected one's emotions, if the spell even modified them at all.

Severus had contemplated telling Harry right away upon his return, but the child's body had demanded rest, and it gave time for Severus to catch up on his own sleep. It was too late now since he didn't wish to leave in the middle of any questions Harry might have, and part of him didn't want to put a damper on Harry's improved mood.

"Sir, it's your turn," Harry said, breaking through his thoughts. He had to hide a grimace. Sir sounded more offending than ever coming from his son's mouth. Severus needed to break the child of that habit soon. He wouldn't have any child of his referring to him as sir. It sounded cold and formal, perfect for dunderheaded students, but not his child.

The Potions Master moved a pawn forward. "The Headmaster has called an Order meeting tonight," Severus broached the subject, hating the way the topic made Harry frown.

"Does that mean you're going?" Harry sighed.

"If I didn't think I needed to attend, I wouldn't, but I'm sure many things of importance will be discussed tonight," Severus explained, his statement purposely vague. That night's Order meeting would be the first full meeting since Black's death, and he had no intention of missing a meeting where Albus might discuss his plans for Harry, plans that Severus apparently always had power to veto, and he had no qualms over speaking up against the Headmaster now. In fact, he looked forward to shocking the man and messing up his real-life chessboard.

"Is everyone going to be there? I mean-"

"You won't be left alone," Severus cut the boy off before he could finish. He knew it must be hard for the teenager to admit he didn't want to be left alone, especially since teenagers were all about gaining their freedom. "I actually wanted to ask you who you'd like to visit with you. The Weasleys are residing at Grimmauld Place, so if you'd like I could have the two youngest Weasleys floo here."

"I don't know," Harry trailed off. "I'm sure Ginny knows by now, but I don't know how they'll react to this," he motioned towards his chest and the pump, "and I don't know if I want them to see me like this."

"They're your friends, they won't care," Severus reminded his son, wishing he could help the boy overcome whatever fear and apprehension he was having towards his friends. His child needed them whether Severus wished to have Gryffindors invading his quarters or not.

"Please," Harry pleaded, their chess game all but forgotten.

"Of course. It was merely a suggestion," he said, his brain working to find another option Harry would be receptive to. "Would Mrs. Weasley be agreeable to you? I'm actually rather surprised she hasn't stormed my door demanding to see you yet."

Severus knew Molly would miss the Order meeting to visit with Harry in a heartbeat after seeing her nearly smother the boy with attention before a couple of the Order meetings last summer. Plus, it wasn't necessary for her to personally be at the meeting since Arthur or one of her older sons, not including the prankster twins, could be trusted to relay the prevalent information to her after the meeting concluded.

"Would you speak with her first?" Harry asked, twirling a pawn on the coffee table.

"Is that code for asking me to withstand her wrath before letting her in to see you?" Severus didn't need to use Legilimency to read Harry's apprehension over allowing Mrs. Weasley to visit with him. He had seen the Weasley children receive enough howlers over the years to know of Molly's infamous tirades and fiery outbursts.

"Uh, maybe?"

"Fine, but if I have to face her, you have to face your grade report," Severus tapped the untouched envelope that hadn't moved from the coffee table since Harry set it down there when Minerva gave it to him.

"Right now?" the boy eyed the envelope with fear. Had the child been doing poorly in his classes? Severus hadn't heard any of the staff discussing slipping or poor grades in regards to Harry. He thought Potions was the boy's worst subject, and Harry had managed to pull his grade up to an Acceptable with his end of term exam. Maybe he was wrong and just tuned out after hearing Harry's name, though it may be more likely the rest of the staff hadn't mentioned it while Umbridge was around.

"Tomorrow. It'll probably be too late when I return, and if I'm to face Mrs. Weasley's wrath, I should ask her to come now, so I won't be late to the meeting," he said after casting a Tempus charm. He couldn't believe he was willingly putting himself in this situation. Severus didn't desire being yelled at; he was the one who was supposed to do the yelling today. However, if he could save Harry from her fiery outburst and warn her so she'd be prepared to seeing him hooked up to various medications and chemotherapy, it would be worth it. Not to mention their agreement would get Harry to open up his grade report, so he and the boy could start discussing his preliminary class options for the next school term.

"Okay," Harry agreed, standing up from the couch.

"I suppose you're going to hide until Mrs. Weasley calms down," Severus smirked.

"That would be the idea," Harry nodded and started to make his way to his bedroom, infusion pump rolling along in front of him.

"And they call you a Gryffindor," Severus called after the child, lifting up his glass of water. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a Slytherin."

"The Hat tried to place me there," Harry called back, his amused voice echoing off the stone walls.

"What?" he choked on his water. Harry was almost a Slytherin? It made some sense knowing Harry was his son, but the boy was the ultimate Gryffindor, always running off to perform outrageous displays of magic while endangering his own life without thinking of the consequences beforehand. Then again, Severus considered the action he had taken at twenty-one, the action of giving up his own child more reckless and outrageous than any action a Gryffindor could ever think of doing, and the Sorting Hat hadn't even considered putting him into Gryffindor.

After quickly changing into his normal intimidating attire complete with billowing robes, Severus walked to his floo and adjusted the wards to temporarily allow connections to and from Grimmauld Place. He then threw a pinch of green glittery floo powder down and sunk to his knees, placing his head into the flames.

"Molly," Severus called out to the abandoned room, well what appeared abandoned until his eyes spotted Lupin sprawled out across a sofa with his arm hanging off the edge, an empty bottle of Firewhiskey in hand, his shabby clothes camouflaged against the sofa's worn fabric

"Lupin," he seethed, trying to wake the wolf though when Lupin didn't stir, Severus knew it was no use trying again. The wolf was passed out and right in front of the floo, a display considered most uncouth in wizarding society.

"Professor?" Miss Weasley asked, edging into the room.

"Please go retrieve your mother for me. I wish to speak with her," Severus snapped, his patience lost after spotting the wolf.

"Yes, sir," Miss Weasley ran out of the room.

Severus shifted on his knees, reminding himself that he needed to invest in a thick hearthrug as the stone floor dug into his kneecaps.

"Did you need me, Severus?" Molly walked into the room, a pile of folded towels balanced in her hands. "We're just getting settled in. If you wish to send Harry over early, he's more than welcome."

"Could you please floo over? I need to speak with you in private," he answered, wondering what her statement meant. Did she not realize how ill Harry was or was something else going on?

"Of course. Just give me a moment," Molly nodded, concern written across her face.

"Thank you," Severus said before pulling his head from the flames and standing up to straighten and smooth out his robes. He walked over to the sink to wash his hands even though his head had been the only thing that went into the flames.

As promised, a few moments later Molly stepped out of his floo. "Is this about Ron's grade? He insists he lost his grade report though I know he's just hiding it."

"No, if you'd wash your hands at the sink we'll proceed into my quarters where we can sit down," Severus motioned to the sink, noticing Molly's puzzled look.

"Wash my hands? Whatever for?" she turned to look at him, hand on her hip. "I know Grimmauld Place isn't the cleanest place in London, but it's not nearly as bad as last summer."

"Please, for Harry's sake," Severus took a deep breath, wondering how disastrous his next statement would prove to be, yet he knew if he didn't tell Molly the truth they'd be arguing over the point until one of them finally gave in. "His cancer-"

"What?" Mrs. Weasley roared, her face reddening to match her hair.