It wasn't until Tuesday that Harry started feeling closer to his old self. He was becoming more used to the port that would - for the next couple years anyway - sit under his collar bone, but he was still fatigued and taking the Paracetamol, on a constant rotation for the pain. Now he could at least stay awake enough, and out of the loo enough, to function. However, while he had been feeling physically well, a little better each day, he was starting to feel more irritated as the week went on.

By Friday, he was down right cranky with everything and everyone around him. He finally had time to contemplate the situation that was his life right now... Like the fact that maybe Dudley was more disturbed from the dementor attack last year than he'd originally thought - but that doesn't mean Harry could forgive him for years of torment, too little, too late Dudders -, or that Snape had barely left his side since Sunday night -or was that Monday morning? -, how about that he had yet to receive a single piece of mail from his friends; not like he'd sent anything to them either, but Ron does have Hedwig so he was pretty much off the hook for that one.

In the end, he decided to finally start his summer assignments while he had the energy to work on them before getting knocked down again on Sunday. School was still one of the big unknowns he was trying not to think too closely about. Would he be able to attend classes? If so, would he be able to use magic? Magic was the other big unknown he was avoiding thinking about. Summer assignments required no magic, so for now he could table those questions. That's where Snape found him after breakfast; sitting at his desk writing out his transfiguration essay with a muggle pen and paper.

"If you'd like, I'll look over your essays when you're finished with them." Snape offered. He had been trying to navigate Harry's declining mood all week.

Harry rolled his eyes, but with his back to the dark eyed professor it went, luckily, unseen.

"Yeah right, like I'm going to hand you a reason to insult me," Harry spat back.

Snape frowned at the response, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked up to the sullen teenager. He leaned against the bed with his arms folded across his chest. He was dressed casually for the day in a white Oxford shirt and black jeans.

"Why would you care about my transfiguration mark anyway?" Harry continued, questioning to himself through the mist of anger, if having Snape read his potions essay would be the worst thing in the world and then a half second later deciding it would be.

Shaking his head slightly Snape replied, "If I were stuck with a Hogwarts professor for the summer, I would have tried to take as much advantage of it as I could."

Harry paused writing mid sentence, "Of course you would; cheating is a very Slytherin trait you know."

"Ah," Snape mocked, "taking the moral high ground I see. It's not like the great Harry Potter has never broken any rules before. And for your information, I guarantee to you every single other student, regardless of house affiliation, is having their summer essays read before handing them in."

Harry was just happy to be able to work on his assignments before the train ride back for term, but he wasn't about to admit that to the greasy dungeon bat.

"Yup, you got me. I only break rules when I don't personally benefit from it. Goes back to that whole martyr thing..." Harry trailed off as his mind wandered -saving people thing - that's what Hermione had told him before he ran off to save Sirius. At least he thought he was saving Sirius. He'd been doing his best to avoid thinking of Sirius this summer.

I got him killed.

If only he'd listened to Hermione, maybe he wouldn't be here. Maybe he'd be back at Grimmauld Place with his Godfather. He felt a pang of grief and guilt rush through his chest. He looked over at Snape with fire in his emerald green eyes, if only the git had actually listened to his warning. As part of the Order, it should have been perfectly clear:

He's got Padfoot in the place where it's hidden

But Dumbledore had said Snape did do something, didn't he? He checked in on Sirius and then alerted the Order. Harry refused to believe it. Besides, even if Snape did act on the warning, it was his fault Sirius wanted to leave in the first place. Snape had to taunt Sirius about being useless; what kind of person says that to someone who was wrongly convicted of murder and had to stay hidden? A complete arsehole that's who!

Snape was staring intently at Harry, watching the inner turmoil pass through the young wizard. He had no way of knowing what triggered the anxiety attack this time and therefore how to help it.

"Do you feel like a martyr?" Snape asked tentatively, taking a guess at what was bothering Harry.

Harry glared over at the professor he'd worked himself into hating all over again.

"No, I don't. It was called sarcasm."

"Trust me Harry, I'm familiar with the term. I'll just leave you be."

Harry flinched at the sound of his given name being used. No, he hadn't forgotten he'd given his hated professor the permission to use it, but that felt like a lifetime ago. He watched as Snape placed down the small cup of his morning medication and a glass of water onto the desk beside his essay. Oh, he'd forgotten to take those downstairs. Harry's ears turned pink with embarrassment.

"This is your fault!" Harry yelled just before Snape left the bedroom.

The professor stopped in his tracks, turned around taking a single step back into the hostile room, and closed the door behind him. Harry audibly gulped, but was so angry about Sirius, he didn't care if the anger was misdirected even a little.

"Do pray tell, what exactly is my fault? I'd like to be certain we're both on the same subject before this argument," Snape sounded almost amused.

"You know what I mean!" Harry screamed back not caring how immature he sounded. If he was more alert he would have noticed that Snape seemed oddly comfortable with the idea of arguing with a moody teenager.

"You're the reason Sirius went to the Department of Mysteries!" He'd said it only half believing it himself. "You were always telling him how useless he was and thinking you were so much better than him." Harry looked disgusted at Snape.

"The only reason you're helpful is because you were stupid enough to get branded by your other master before having what, some kind of epiphany? Changed your mind but it was too late? Maybe torturing kids in class was all you needed to feel powerful?" Harry knew he had gone too far, but it felt too good.

Snape, to Harry's surprise, wasn't looking nearly as furious as Harry had expected.

"You're getting dangerously close to things you can't even start to comprehend. Do you hear me? I suggest you turn around and finish your school work." Snape lectured with a harsh snap in his voice warning Harry to leave it be.

"No!" Harry challenged back. "I don't understand how Dumbledore can so blatantly trust you when you've given absolutely no reason for him to."

"And you've been privy to every conversation between Professor Dumbledore and myself?" Snape mocked. "Can you not only hear conversations from afar but also before you were born?" Snape put a hard emphasis on the last four words. Harry felt himself flush even more as Snape approached him.

"Furthermore," Snape continued, "I'd like to point out that had I wanted to deliver you to the Dark Lord, I would have had ample opportunities over the last week to do so. Merlin knows your relatives wouldn't lift a finger to stop me," that was low Harry thought. "So if nothing else, I should have, at least by now, earned a sliver of your trust."

Harry knew he'd deserved every word of that, but he was still furious inside. Looking up at Snape, who was standing with his head hung rubbing the back of his neck, Harry thought he could see a flicker of regret.

"Your Godfather's death is the fault of no one besides the Dark Lord and Bellatrix," Snape finally said after a period of neutral silence between them. "Are there other circumstances that contributed to his death? Absolutely-"

"You mean like you not properly teaching me occlumency?" Harry interrupted.

Snape took a deep breath, thinking back to their disastrous occlumency sessions in the past year before calmly replying, "I put as much effort into teaching you, as you put into learning from me."

Harry couldn't deny that statement. He wished more than anything that he could. He wished he could go back and change it. Could he have trusted Snape enough to learn properly? Probably not, but he could have tried harder to make Dumbledore see how bad of an idea it was for Snape to teach him. Of course if he knew the other option was that Sirius died, maybe he would have tried harder even with Snape as a teacher.

His green eyes met Snape's obsidian eyes fully expecting to hear "Legilimens". He shivered at the thought that Snape can probably do Legilimency nonverbally and wandlessly. A scowl was still firmly planted on his face until Snape bent down to kneel in front of him. Instinctively, the Boy-Who-Lived leaned back in his chair in an attempt to put some distance from his professor, preparing for the backlash he was going to receive.

"Harry," Snape said in a quiet voice sounding like he was trying to keep his patience. Harry couldn't hide how obvious it was that he was caught off guard.

"What," Harry finally said when it was clear Snape wasn't going to continue unprompted.

"Finish your homework and I'll be checking it over when you're done," Snape said and in one movement stood up, walked to the door, and left closing the door behind him.

Luck was on Harry's side because Snape had stayed out of Harry's room for the rest of the day. Harry wondered briefly what the man did during the day when they were inevitably locked up in the house. He made a mental note to peek into the guest room the next time Snape was occupied elsewhere. Not that invading his privacy was a good idea, but the professor was staying at his "home" so Harry considered it justifiable.

Walking down the stairs to the dinner table, which was the only other place he went besides his room, since he couldn't go outside due to potential exposure and he refused to sit anywhere casually with his relatives, he saw dinner was already served on the table. Not being responsible for a house-elf's worth of chores was a nice change for the summer, but he missed cooking. Even though he never got to really eat what he made, he enjoyed creating something seemingly on his own, and it helped that he was actually good at it too.

Tonight's dinner of roasted chicken with baby potatoes and broccoli sat plated out at three place settings. Confused for a minute, Harry looked around to see if maybe Harry was getting out of "family dinner time". Much to his displeasure, Dudley spotted him before he could head back upstairs to the safety of his room.

"Mum and dad went out again," his cousin explained. "Dad's got this big client he's been working on for weeks and he thinks they'll sign any day now."

Harry stared at the large teenager in front of him. Dudley was only a month older than him; if things had gone differently, if Dudley had treated him like a brother - no, Harry had stopped thoughts like that years ago.

"As long as it gets them out of the house, I really don't care why," Harry was still cranky and the last thing he wanted to do was small talk.

He sat down in the chair to Dudley's left, deciding that it was probably safer than sitting next to Snape. He was surprised the potions professor wasn't at the table yet, he rarely missed a meal. Maybe their earlier argument was worse than Harry had thought.

"You seem to be feeling better," Dudley said with a mouthful of potatoes.

Harry really just wanted to eat and leave, but that clearly wasn't about to happen. "Yeah, at least until Sunday."

"Why Sunday?" Dudley looked confused.

"Erm... That's when I get another round of chemo," Harry was pushing his broccoli around on his plate. Even though he wasn't as nauseous anymore, his appetite was not anywhere near normal.

"Oh," Dudley was looking down at his plate of food. "Where's your professor?"

"No idea," Harry peeked around as if he'd expected Snape to apparate downstairs. "We kind of had a row this morning."

Dudley's face went pale, clearly afraid of what Snape could do when he was angry. "You were never one to back down from a fight," he added, looking at Harry.

"What's that supposed to mean," the smaller teen said clearly insulted. "What the hell has gotten into you?" If Harry wasn't already so irritated, he probably wouldn't have bothered asking.

Dudley sat quietly staring at his hands for a solid minute before speaking. He could barely look at Harry in the eyes, "I've done some thinking this year... Well actually... y'see, there was a kid at Smeltings, David, and he reminded me a lot of you."

Harry wasn't expecting a story, mostly because he didn't think Dudley could put enough sentences together, but he listened to what his cousin had to say.

"I... Well, my friends too... It was like having another you at my new school" Dudley stuttered along.

"You mean you beat him up," Harry added, calling it for what it was.

"Yeah," Dudley didn't sound as proud as Harry expected him to, "but like you, he gave it as much as he took it, so it's not like I felt sorry for him or anything.

"I didn't really pay attention, you know, he was just always around. At least until we got back from Easter break this year and he... wasn't there." Dudley paused and looked up at Harry causing the smaller boy to shiver in anticipation.

"My classmates, we were all called to the auditorium that first day back, and... Well, David was killed over the Easter break. They said his dad... " Dudley waited either to compose himself or for his cousin to understand. Harry already had guessed where this story was going.

"The next couple days," Dudley continued, "they had counselors talking to the classes. All sorts of things like what child abuse is, recognizing the signs of child abuse, and who to contact if you or someone you know is being abused."

Harry put his fork down half in shock that his cousin had some kind of conscious now, half because he didn't want to sit and listen to this.

"Dudley, it's-" Harry started.

"No, Harry," Dudley loudly interrupted, "it's not ok. I guess... it was the first time I really thought about the way you were treated and that it wasn't normal."

Harry was not comfortable with this conversation. Yeah, things at the Dursley's weren't good, but he never considered himself abused. Just thinking of that word made him sick inside. Was Dudley trying to apologize to him?

First Snape and now this

"... And then," Harry realized he hadn't been listening to what Dudley had said, "after everything that happened, after all those years, you saved my life last summer. You didn't have to do that... I- I probably wouldn't have done it." Harry didn't doubt that one bit.

Holding his head in his hands, trying to think through everything Dudley had said on top of all the things his brain was already contemplating. It's all too much. Sirius, Leukemia, Snape, now Dudley. He could feel Dudley staring at him on his right and he peeked up to see Snape's plate of food sitting in front of the still empty seat.

"I have to go-" Harry stood up feeling completely exhausted and wanting just to go to bed.

"Wait," Dudley went to grab Harry's wrist, but the wizard staggered backwards at the sudden movement. He barely caught himself from tumbling backwards, "we were wrong. Ok? I know that now... Even if my parents don't."

Harry couldn't breathe. He was aware of his chest moving up and down, but it felt like the oxygen just couldn't reach his brain. He stood staring at his cousin, visions of being locked in his cupboard for days, getting hit by his aunt, uncle, and Dudley, hours of chores, and lack of food floated in and out of his mind. It was not unlike when Snape carded through his memories during the horrible occlumency lessons; memories forced across his eyes.

"Whatever," Harry mumbled as he quickly walked out of the room and up the stairs.

He could hear a door close further down the hall just as his bedroom door closed and he held his breath thinking Snape was about to walk in. He slowly let it out when Snape never entered.

He laid across the bed on his stomach, sun filtering in from the window across his back. He missed being outside. He missed feeling healthy. He missed his friends. He missed Hogwarts. He missed Sirius. It was with those invasive thoughts that he finally fell asleep, still in his oversized clothing on top of his comfortable blankets.

Harry found himself being shaken awake without any idea of how long he had been asleep. Peeking through his eyes, he could see the sun had mostly set and the lights lining the quiet street were illuminated. Sitting in the armchair across from his bed was Snape, no longer dressed in his muggle clothing, but instead his black robes like he had just gotten back from somewhere.

"You need to take your evening medication," the Potions Master said plainly.

Harry peered towards the desk and saw a cup with his medication along with a glass of water and a bowl of yoghurt with what appeared to be granola sprinkled on top. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and temples; sleeping with his glasses on always made his temples sore.

Harry reached out and grabbed the small cup and the glass of water and one by one took the tablets. He was starting to feel extremely sore, so he was happy it was time to take them.

"I'm sorry sir," Harry finally said breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Snape frowned as he looked at the young wizard in front of him. "You've got a lot going on right now, but you've never been one for self-pity Harry, don't start now."

Harry's anger tried to resurface. He wasn't dwelling in self-pity and he resented Snape for thinking that.

"It wasn't self-pity," he defended. "I'm just angry with everything."

"That's to be expected." Snape commented as if he were talking about the weather. "Not only is your body under a lot of stress, at least one of the medications you're on can cause some... Changes in your mood."

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. He hadn't thought about the effects of all the medications being somehow related to his current attitude.

"Where did you go?" Harry nodded to the robes Snape was wearing.

"We had a quick order meeting while you were sleeping."

"Here?!" Harry was surprised he wasn't woken by his uncle's ranting about more magical people.

"No," Snape looked at Harry as if he was the biggest dunderhead the professor had ever seen. "And Molly stayed here with you while I was gone."

"Did you tell them?" Harry asked quietly as he reached for the yoghurt and started taking small bites.

Two days ago, Snape had suggested they inform select Order members about his Leukemia. These are the people tasked with keeping him alive after all and they should know what to expect, there were times that Snape would be called away by either Dumbledore or Voldemort, but the point he stressed the most was that Harry needed to have people he trusted to help him through this and they couldn't do that unless they knew about it. In the end, Snape didn't really need to do all that to convince Harry. Before his first chemo, he would have told Snape where to shove the idea, but afterwards he just didn't want to be there to tell everyone. In the end it was a win-win for both of them.

"Yes, it was discussed," Snape explained while shedding his outer robe. "As promised, we only divulged the information to select members - Molly, Arthur, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Moody - Remus already knows and was not in attendance tonight anyway. Also as we discussed, I let Molly know she could tell her children."

Harry thought that sounded like a lot of people and was secretly glad they'd discussed the list beforehand. Otherwise, with his current short temper, he would probably be extremely angry.

"Anything I should know about from the meeting?" While Sirius was the only person who ever told him anything about the Order, he figured he had nothing to lose by asking Snape.

Snape's eyes narrowed, "No, like I said this was a quick update meeting."

Harry thought about that sentence as he finished his yoghurt. Snape didn't say he wouldn't tell him what was said, just that there was nothing he should know. He filed that information away for later.

"What happened with your cousin?" Snape asked casually as he took the bowl from Harry and handed him the rest of the water to finish.

"Oh, erm," Harry did not want to tell Snape about his treatment from the Dursleys. This summer had been so strange, Snape would be none the wiser to it. "Something happened at his school, I wasn't paying too much attention."

It was obvious Snape didn't believe one bit of that excuse and Harry couldn't blame him. He's a spy; just by him asking what happened meant he likely already knew.

"Are you ok?" Snape asked and Harry's head shot up at the question.

"It's fine, professor, really. He meant no harm," and Harry actually believed that.

Dudley couldn't know what he made Harry relive by bringing up all of the past. Harry also thought it peculiar how Snape was so interested in that situation. He remembered the memories he had accidentally seen by using the Protego spell. Maybe Snape could relate, which is now the second time he's said that about man in less than a week.

"I think I'm going to go shower before bed," Harry said standing up.

Snape nodded, "Good night Harry." He stood and took one more hard look at Harry before walking out the door to his own bedroom.