~~~~AU SS~~~

Severus woke up that morning far earlier than he needed to and blamed it on wanting to be as prepared as possible, but in reality he was simply too nervous to sleep. They filed all the right paperwork, went through over half a dozen interviews - together, separate, friends and colleagues, anyone the ministry thought they could get away with asking. The Ministry of Magic Department of Children's Services had stopped in unannounced more times than he thought possible; luckily he had completed the renovations at Spinner's End early in the summer holiday - otherwise there was no way he would have allowed Harry to stay there in the first place, even before the thoughts of adoption were in his head.

They asked him about his career plans, examined his all financial statements, questioned him every which way on why he wanted to adopt the Boy-Who-Lived, and more specifically why they should allow a "supposedly-former" Death Eater to adopt the Boy-Who-Lived. He had no idea what they asked Harry in his private interviews because he respected his, hopefully, future son's privacy and never asked. All that mattered was that after all the grueling work, he was able to circle the 5th of March on his calendar as the day it would all be worth it and that day had finally come.

He was dressed in a new set of dress robes, appropriately colored black and white and had bought Harry a new set for the occasion. Even though it was a weekday, he had Harry sleep in his room in their dungeon quarters the previous night so the 12-year old had plenty of time to get ready that morning. Both of them had been excused from classes for the day. Severus walked into the kitchen to a table already set for breakfast with a wide assortment of foods and a note next to it all saying:

Best of luck today Severus and Harry.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore

Severus shook his head, but silently thanked his mentor for thinking ahead about such a small detail. He heard Harry's door open, announcing the young Gryffindor awake, and then the start of the shower proving that he was indeed getting ready. Severus poured himself a cup of tea while helping himself to some porridge and fruit from the center of the all the food.

"Morning Severus," Harry called as he entered the room still trying to tame his black, wild, damp hair, wearing his new set of navy dress robes.

"Good morning," the professor greeted pouring Harry a glass of pumpkin juice. "Have some breakfast; the Headmaster arranged it."

Harry picked up the card, read it quickly, then started making up a plate with eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. When the small boy first lived with Severus, he was underweight even after a year of Hogwarts large and balanced meals. It was a constant battle of how much he should be eating and even now, when Harry was at a much more acceptable weight for his height and age, he sometimes needed prompting to eat.

"I promise I will only ask you this one more time, though I'm sure you'll get it much more throughout the day," Severus said calmly, "are you sure this is something you want to do? It's not too late to change your mind, but after today it will be permanent."

Harry smiled, "Yes Severus. I really want to do this."

"Perfect," that was the only word he needed to say to explain all the feelings flowing inside of him, most of which he thought dead long ago.

As predicted, the day had been long and tiring. Each section of the adoption proceedings had to be reviewed in-depth yet again. And though no one said so and he didn't ask, he guessed the extra measures had more to do with him having the dark mark than Harry being the Boy-Who-Lived. In the end, the recommendation from Albus Dumbledore had been one of his solicitor's best decisions because no matter what objections the Ministry came up with, Albus had previously negated them in the memory shown of him giving his recommendation. It was the first time in the whole process Severus had gotten to see the recommendations they had received from Albus, Minerva, and Pomona. It was also the first time he'd seen the testament of Arabella Figg on Harry's treatment at the Dursleys. By the end, it was the closest he'd ever come to crying besides Lily's death.

They were both brought back into a large airy office where Severus sat with Harry by his side, and they signed what had to be dozens of documents. Some needed his written signature, where others needed his magical signature as well. Each one was read prior to him signing it by his solicitor and it was all going smoothly until they reached one titled "Petition for Official Name Change of a Magical Child".

"Will there be a name change with the adoption?" their case worker, Marie who was an older woman in her 60's with short grey hair and a kind smile, asked directly to Harry.

Harry furrowed his brows in deep concentration; they had not discussed if Harry would take the Snape surname.

"Oh... Erm," the young Gryffindor stuttered.

Noticing his young charge's discomfort, Severus immediately spoke up with, "No, he'll still remain Potter. If that's ok?" The last part was meant for Harry.

"Yes," Harry said relieved, "thank you."

Marie nodded her head and asked Severus to sign one more document. Then with a last wave of Marie's wand over the documents, all the ink dried, the parchment was duplicated into five copies, and then they were rolled and tied. Just like that, it was official; Harry was adopted and he was now Severus's son.

~~~~SS~~~~

Harry had indeed passed out when the port key was activated, which didn't surprise Severus one bit. The teenager had to be completely exhausted both physically and mentally. He was exhausted as well, but running pure on adrenaline at this point that he hardly noticed.

The hospital wing at Hogwarts was surprisingly well lit for being after two o'clock in the morning and Severus was oddly aware of how often he'd seen these early hours of the morning. Madam Pomfrey and Healer Smithe were both waiting by a bed surrounded by an IV stand with several bags hanging when Severus and Harry arrived. The moment he placed the young Gryffindor on the bed, they immediately jumped in. Alton started by connecting Harry's port to a bag of red liquid hanging on the IV stand then proceeded to insert another IV site into the top of his left hand for the others. Poppy was running a diagnostic scan and comparing it to the parchment from the one that was run back at Privet Drive presumably from the healer. Both were working completely synchronized; you'd think they always worked side-by-side together.

Harry started moaning and Severus cautiously approached the bed, scared to reach out to the young wizard not wanting to cause him any more pain. A chair was conjured next to Harry's right side and Seveus met Poppy's eye where she gave an almost imperceptible nod. The professor sat down in the chair and hesitantly took Harry's right hand in his own. As he was running his thumb mindlessly over the top trying to help calm the teen he felt smooth ridges under his fingertip. Confused, he looked down at the thin hand and saw healing scars that clearly said I must not tell lies. His heart pulled again trying to imagine why and where these could have come from. Yes, Harry had a rough year with most of the wizarding world thinking he was lying about Voldemort's return, many of whom were fellow students, but how this could have occurred; who did this to him? Images of Harry being held down and having this carved into his had passed through his mind, or worse... Harry sitting alone and doing it to himself. He gently squeezed the Gryffindor's hand; unfortunately, this was at the bottom of all the things to worry about right now, but he resolved to ask him about it later.

Poppy paused with her wand hovering over Harry's body, turned towards Severus and asked, "Severus, you're Harry's medical proxy correct?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"You need to decide how we should proceed with healing him - by magical or muggle means," the matron explained with an urgency in her voice showing how dire the situation was.

He frowned. Yes, he was responsible for making these decisions, but if he was honest with himself he had no idea what Harry in this reality would want. He knew the cancer meant they weren't supposed to use magical healing on him because the extra stress on his medical core could cause the depletion faster, however this seemed like an extreme circumstance where it may do more good than harm. He looked at the frail boy laying on the bed in front of him. For all he knew, Harry would wake up hating him again, but Severus would always do whatever it took not to let him die; he would not fail Harry again.

"Use magic for any potentially life-threatening injuries," he said confidently. "The rest can be treated by muggle means."

Healer Smithe nodded and started to get to work, again working in perfect synchronization with Madam Pomfrey while Severus tried his best to stay out of their way. On the other side of the curtain he could hear Professor Dumbledore speaking with Moody and Lupin and he was already dreading the interrogation he'd be receiving once Harry was stable; he'd made mistakes that would have to own up to. Luckily, Albus was able to convince Moody to hold off on the grounds that as he was Harry's medical proxy, he would be needed to make possibly life saving medical decisions as quickly as possible. No matter how much Moody would take pleasure in interrogating the now-former spy, even he wouldn't do it at the possible expense of The Chosen One.

In the end, Harry's broken ribs and resulting punctured lung, as well as his internal bleeding were healed by spells, potions, and salves. His broken leg was set in a muggle cast, they'd have to wait to see about the concussion, and the cuts from the glass were cleaned and bandaged; what was the most concerning to Healer Smithe was the high fever. Harry had been given a fever reducing potion, but with his lower immune system it wouldn't clear out the infection that could quickly sweep through his body. He was given morphine, a larger range of antibiotics than he was regularly taking, and a wide variety of other medications through his IVs - something about white blood cells and platelets - and now the healers had done all they could for the time being. It was a waiting game for Harry to wake up. Severus carded his hand through the young wizard's wispy hair, ignoring the strands that were left behind between his fingers. He then brushed the thinning fringe that was covering Harry's scar, which was swollen and an angry red color against his pale forehead.

He knew it was coming, but that still didn't lessen the anger building up in his chest. Albus finally had to agree to let Moody interrogate Severus, but under the requirement that it was done in Madam Pomfrey's office. By doing so, Severus would be able to know the instant should Harry's status change, but it still didn't make the current situation any easier, especially since his adrenaline was now gone and he was completely exhausted. If nothing else, it may prove to be entertaining.

"I find it curious that the date you provided the Order was off by a whole 24 hours," Moody accused.

As do I.

"I've given you no reason not to trust my intelligence previously," the Potions Master simply explained, "I don't know why Pettigrew reported Thursday. Had it been incorrect, I'm sure I would have heard his punishment."

"Because you were there? What were you doing all day yesterday?"

"I already told you I was." This was anything but a friendly chat. "After the summons meeting, the Dark Lord had me brewing a range of potions. Mostly pepper ups, invigorating draught, fever reducer, pain reliever, and one explosive which had obviously been used on the wall between Harry's room and the next door lavatory."

"Why does he need all those potions," the ex-Auror had always been skeptical of Severus's explanations.

"Since he's not big on gossip, your guess is as good as mine. I'm told what to brew and I do it... No questions asked. Death Eaters learn that last part pretty quickly; or at least the smart ones certainly do, and I like to think of myself in that category." He'd much rather have Shacklebolt or even Tonks questioning him with his current mood; he was a half a minute away from hexing the man in front of him and that definitely wouldn't help himself at all. Albus really should have stepped in to save both men from this antagonistic agony.

"Why weren't you part of the team to retrieve Harry?" That seemed like a stupid question and Severus seriously doubted the man still knew how to properly interrogate someone. He leaned back in his chair to demonstrate how little this process meant to him.

"I had always made it clear to Albus that this was not a mission I was involved in. I invite you to find the Dark Lord and ask him yourself if you're insistent on a reason," the black haired man explained. "Dolohov was running it and I was left to brew."

"You weren't left alone at all?"

"Obviously," Severus slowly answered looking up with disdain in his eyes, "or I would have sent word immediately. Pettigrew was with me almost constantly; plus I didn't even know they were ambushing until after it started."

"So how did you know what was happening?"

This time Severus couldn't hold back the eye roll, "I made Harry a way to contact me when he was sick-"

"That's right-," Moody interrupted placing the sphere on the table, yet again, not hiding his skepticism, "-this thing."

"Yes, that thing," Severus continued. "Once Harry squeezed it, I was alerted and when the message that came through said "mortal peril", I left immediately.

"When I arrived at Privet Drive, there were Death Eaters sending hexes and curses every which way through his bedroom window and the house had been breached. As a Death Eater, no one gave a second glance at my arrival. Dolohov had just gotten up the stairs when I started to duel him," Severus stopped, looking over at Albus who had just walked into the office.

"If that's all Alastor, I'm sure Severus can use a good night's rest," the headmaster said, finally ending the interrogation. Moody grumbled and shook his head.

He left me there long enough Severus thought walking back to the chair next to Harry's bed. He quickly transfigured it into one much more comfortable and sat down. Pulling his cloak over him, he gave one more check on the small boy in the bed hoping he'd wake up soon.

~~~~HP~~~~

As Harry started to come back into consciousness the only thing he could think was how much he ached from head to toe; even his insides ached and in a different way than the post-chemo pain he'd become so accustomed to. He could smell the familiar scent of the Hogwarts hospital wing - not as sterile as the hospitals he's been in recently, but still enough to recognize it as a place of healing. He tried to think back to what happened to land him here. Maybe a Quidditch accident again? No, it's summer holiday, so why was he at Hogwarts to begin with?

I think I was watching a movie with Dudley.

That was the last thing he remembered, watching a movie with his cousin after his aunt and uncle went out celebrating; then there was the fight with Snape from yesterday.

He finally cracked his eyes open and based on the small amount light filtering in through the windows, it had to be after dinnertime. He tried to push himself upright, but became aware of several things at once - his right foot couldn't move at all, his port was hooked up to some kind of muggle medicine, and he also had an IV in his left hand. He ended up abandoning the idea of sitting and instead reached over to where he knew the side table would have his glasses. Unfortunately, one lens was still broken but he only needed one to see. Looking down, he noticed he was not in the standard infirmary issued pyjamas, but a pair of button down black flannel ones with the top 3 buttons undone for access to the port.

His curtain was closed for privacy, but someone was asleep in the large armchair pulled up on the right side of his bed. On second thought, asleep wasn't quite the right word, it was more like passed out. Leaning over, his heart leapt, it was Snape!

His curtain was opened causing him to jump. Of course, it was Madam Pomfrey, who else would be notified that he had woken up.

"Good Afternoon Mister Potter," the medi-witch whispered peeking over at Snape. "How are you feeling?"

Harry wet his lips and then tried to say "fine" but nothing came out. Frustrated, he tried again, this time a scratched "water" was heard.

Madam Pomfrey nodded in understanding and handed Harry the glass of water from the bedside table. She then repaired his glasses with a quick reparo.

"Better?" she whispered again.

"Yes, thank you," he croaked. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid there was an attack at your home in Little Whinging last night," Madam Pomfrey started explaining in her typical no-nonsense manner. "Unfortunately, most of the home was destroyed, but several members of the Order were able to get you out. You'll be here for at least a couple of days."

Number 4 Privet Drive was destroyed? There were so many questions running through his mind.

"What happened to Dudley?" At Madam Pomfrey's confused look, Harry added, "My cousin. The last thing I remember is watching a movie with him."

"Oh, yes he's just fine. Knocked out real good, but he went to a muggle hospital and will be staying with an aunt or someone like that."

Harry shuddered, "Aunt Marge? What happened to his parents? My aunt and uncle."

"I believe so dear. You don't worry anymore about it, Professor Dumbledore will fill you in on all the details when you've gotten your strength back."

Harry tried not to dwell too much about what he couldn't remember as Madam Pomfrey did a wide range of checks on him; it proved to be almost impossible though. His right leg was in what he now realized was a cast from the bottom of his foot up to just below his knee, clearly due to a broken bone that wasn't healed magically, serving as a constant reminder of what had happened.

Once the medi-witch was finished, she brought him a bowl of chicken soup with bread for dinner. He picked at the food thinking about everything that had gone on in the last couple weeks. From the Department of Mysteries to now, his life looked nothing like he was used to and now with the house on Privet Drive gone, he had no idea where he would end up staying this summer.

Harry got his answer about where he was going to be living for the summer only three days later. Madam Pomfrey and Healer Smithe refused to even consider letting him leave the hospital wing until his fever was completely gone and his blood levels back to as close to normal as they could be considering the Leukemia and chemotherapy. Healer Smithe explained that due to the infection, he couldn't continue on his normal treatment schedule and he would present the new schedule at a later time. Harry thought that sounded rather ominous, but no matter how much he pleaded, the healer wasn't budging, claiming he needed to review the protocol with his oncologist consultant.

By the time he was cleared to leave the hospital wing, he was feeling the best since starting the chemo and the only lasting effect from the Privet Drive attack was his broken leg and sore muscles. He would be in the cast for no less than 6 weeks, which would be right before classes started back for fall term. To get around, he was required to use a set of muggle crutches which looked completely out of place in the castle and he was secretly happy no one would be around to see him.

Snape had not been to the hospital wing as much as Harry had hoped since he had so much to discuss with the professor. A lot had happened since he found out about Snape's other life and even after Harry kicked him out, the man had come back to rescue him. That wasn't something he could just ignore. Snape stopped by at least twice a day, but Harry suspected the Potions Master was there more often, especially seeing as he slept off the fever most of the day. He could tell Snape was in a state of panic, or at least as much as a man with that much pride and stoicism could show, because he was constantly on alert especially whenever the headmaster stopped by at the same time. Harry could only assume it had something to do with Voldemort, but no one was giving him any information.

There were two topics that were consistently avoided - anything that had to do with whatever reality that Snape had come from and the details of the Privet Drive attack. No matter how many times Harry asked, everyone managed to avoid answering his questions with not-so-subtle diversions. Harry spent his time sorting through all the information he did know either inherently or by the eavesdropping he'd managed to do... the wards fell around his relatives' house Friday night, Dudley wasn't seriously hurt but had now gone to stay with Aunt Marge, Snape showed up after the Death Eaters entered the house, someone blew up one of his walls, the Order showed up and the battle eventually ended. He was getting extremely frustrated with the adults around him and at this point would almost take going back to live with his aunt and uncle just to get away from everyone.

"I bet you're ready to get out of here, aren't you Mister Potter," Madam Pomfrey cheerfully said coming around the curtain.

"You have no idea. I'm pretty sure I was fine last night though." Harry was always hating staying in the hospital wing and he was more than ready to get out of there. Remus had been by with whatever they could salvage from his bedroom which at least included a pair of his own pyjamas. He was wearing a set of green and black plaid bottoms with a green long sleeved t-shirt.

"Yes, well an extra day never hurt anyone," she busied herself running one last diagnostic charm. "I see your healer has been by to remove the IVs and delivered your crutches."

Harry nodded, looking over to the side of his bed where the crutches were leaning; thinking how interested this was going to be. Snape and Dumbledore walked around the curtain just as the diagnostic test was finishing and Snape picked up the crutches holding them out to Harry.

"Is anyone going to tell me where I'm bloody going?"

Dumbledore took control of the conversation, "Of course, Harry. You'll be staying with Professor Snape for the time being-" hearing this, Harry took a sideways glance at the potions professor who didn't react at all, "- he'll still be overseeing your care at least until the start of term."

"What will happen to me then?" He was twisting a thread from his blanket around his fingers as he nervously asked, relieved the professor still wanted to help him.

"We'll discuss that as we approach the start of term," the headmaster explained and Harry felt like he was an inconvenience being passed off from one person to the next.

Harry nodded. "And what about my aunt and uncle?"

Snape and Dumbledore turned towards each other as if they were having a silent conversation. For all Harry knew, they actually could be.

In the end, it was Snape that spoke up, "Harry, the blood wards... What do you know about them?"

"Oh," this was an unexpected question, "well, it's an extension of my mother's sacrifice. As long as I call the same house "home" as my aunt, I'm protected from Voldemort and the Death Eaters or at least I was supposed to be."

"Exactly," the younger professor said. "Last Friday, the wards fell completely leaving you unprotected which is how the Death Eaters were able to attack you.

"After a thorough investigation, we found that the Dark Lord discovered that by eliminating your aunt, the wards would then fail, giving them complete access to you."

Harry felt like all the air was sucked from the room and straight out of his lungs. His aunt was eliminated ... killed... to get to him. While he should have been more affected by their deaths, he found he wasn't sad at all. What he was upset about was that he was finally starting to get along with Dudley and now the boy was an orphan too; and it was all Harry's fault, just like Uncle Vernon used to yell about. Once again Voldemort managed to completely screw up his life.

"Oh," was all he could think to say. "But how? Sir?"

"It appears the clients your aunt and uncle were visiting that night were part of an elaborate ruse," Snape was speaking slowly, but confidently. "Once they were on their way home, there was a car accident and neither survived."

"A car accident?" It was ironic, really, but Harry wasn't going to express that now. "Are you sure it was Voldemort then? Could it have been a coincidence?"

"Based on the scene, there is no question," Dumbledore spoke this time. "In fact, quite a few muggles had to be obliviated afterwards for witnessing such unique circumstances."

"Oh. I need to see Dudley," Harry started to stand up with the help of his crutches. He didn't know where he was going, but he needed to move.

"You're not leaving the castle," Snape said, placing a hand on the teen's shoulder. "Once you're settled, he's expecting a letter from you. We'll send it to Mrs. Figg and she will make sure he receives it."

Harry didn't sit back on the bed, he was ready to leave and didn't want to wait any longer.

"Can we please go now sir?"

"Of course," Snape said, gesturing with his arm for Harry to start walking.

It was a tedious journey down to the dungeons trying to navigate the staircases on crutches. He was so focused on not falling face first down the stairs that he didn't really think about the fact that he would be staying with the professor he kicked out of his house less than a week ago. Not to mention that said professor somehow came here from a different world where he had adopted Harry. They definitely had a lot to clear between them, but it couldn't be much worse than living with the Dursley's could it?

After an eternity of hobbling down the corridors, Harry was exhausted and relieved when Snape stopped in front of a blank section of the stone wall. Harry nearly commented on if the professor forgot where he lived, but luckily stopped himself at the last second remembering the entrance to the Slytherin common room from second year. Snape waved his wand in a complicated pattern Harry hoped he would not need to remember then turned to the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Place your right hand here," the potion master said pointing to a depression in the stone.

Harry obediently placed his hand and immediately an extravagantly carved wooden door appeared to the left section of the wall.

"I don't expect you to be out wandering alone," Snape glared down at him as if to say that Harry would be in a heap of trouble for doing so, "but should you find yourself needing to come back without me, I've keyed you into the wards. All you need to do is place your hand in that space again and the door will appear."

Harry had visions of himself wandering the dungeons placing his hand on every section of the walls trying to find the right one. Without waiting for Harry to respond, Snape pulled the door open and ushered Harry inside. To the Gryffindor's surprise, and delight, the door did not disappear upon entering the inside of the room; otherwise he would have felt trapped.

He'd never put too much thought into where any of the professors lived while at school, but if he had, this was as far away from what he'd expect Snape to live in as possible. Instead of the cold, dark dungeon with bats hanging from the ceiling, he was met with a bright, comfortable space. Ron would be highly disappointed.

Directly in front of him was the sitting room. He made his way over to an enchanted window which showed the midday sun over the black lake. The window brought in the same amount of natural light as a regular window would have caused Harry to briefly forget he was underground. The walls were made of stone, but colored in a brighter grey than the regular dungeon stones. A modern-looking sofa that appeared rarely used sat in front of the large fireplace, with two comfortable looking armchairs on either side of the sofa, and a low coffee table was in the middle of them all. There was a desk next to a hallway off the left side of the sitting room where he could see a couple of doors and then a doorway to the left of the hall leading into a small kitchen. Finally, the right side of the sitting room was completely covered in tall bookshelves filled with both muggle and magical texts, and another closed door.

"That's my office," Snape said pointing to the door by the bookshelves, "which also leads to my personal potions lab. You are not to go in there alone for any reason."

"Yes sir," Harry replied. He could not think of a single reason why he would ever want to step foot in that room alone, but Snape had made it perfectly clear that should he find a reason, he likely would not survive the ordeal.

"Your room is this way," the professor gestured for Harry to follow him to the hallway. They stopped in front of the first door on the right. Pointing further down the hallway he continued the tour, "My room is at the end down there on the left. This-," he gestured to the door next to the one they were in front of, "- is a lavatory that you have access to directly from your room."

Something about the way Snape said your room made Harry feel warm inside, like he was a welcomed addition to the normally private professor's space. The door to his bedroom opened to reveal an inviting room with the stone walls colored a light blue. A desk on the left wall sat next to a door leading to the lavatory Snape showed him from the hall. The wardrobe was on the wall flushed with the door and Harry thought the first thing he should do is unpack his trunk. The bed in the far right corner of the room sat under another enchanted window showing the same view as in the sitting room. The four poster bed was made up with blue and green sheets and bedspread making it look not only comfortable, but welcoming.

"This is brilliant sir," Harry said, truly grateful for a room that actually felt like it could be his. "Thank you."

Snape merely brushed off the gratitude as he always did, "You should have everything you need in the wardrobe and lavatory. If anything is missing, please do let me know."

Going further into the room, he found his wand on the bedside table. He'd been wanting to ask if anyone had recovered it, but since no one was discussing the attack with him he hadn't had the chance. Even though he wasn't supposed to use magic, he relaxed just holding his wand knowing should he have to use it, it was there.

"Alton will be stopping by within the hour to discuss the rest of your treatment schedule," Snape said before slowly leaving, the intention clear that Harry was expected to be there.

There was not quite enough time to get started on school work or take a nap, so he went over to the desk and found it already filled with all the supplies he could ever need - parchment, quills, ink, and an assortment of muggle paper, pens, pencils, and markers. He pulled out some paper and a pen to write to Dudley. How do you write a letter to the person whose parents you got killed?

There's nothing I can say that he'll want to hear... I've now gotten 3 people killed in only a month.

After four failed attempts to write the letter, all of which now sat crumbled at his feet, he gave up and went to find Snape. He moved slowly on the crutches, but made it out to find his professor sitting in the closest armchair by the fireplace, a roaring fire keeping the air warm in the cold dungeon. He made a note to check if his slippers or warm socks made it here from the house.

Snape was reading through a large sheet of parchment and appeared not to notice Harry enter, which the Gryffindor didn't believe for one second. Just in case though, he went around the room so as not to surprise Snape from behind. Of course, as a spy he didn't really think the man could ever actually be surprised by such a thing. He decided to sit on the other armchair since the three-person sofa looked rarely used.

"Can we talk about, y'know... where you came from?" Harry was beyond nervous to bring up the topic that had been unofficially off limits since the day before the attack.

Snape put down the parchment and narrowed his eyes at his young charge, "I am not physically from anywhere else."

Why does he have to make this harder than it already is?

"Well, it's the best way I can think to describe it. Seriously, though... " Harry trailed off slightly embarrassed.

"What is it you would like to know?"

"How did it happen?" Harry was relieved Snape didn't need anymore prompting; he instinctively knew Harry wanted to know how he'd ended up in his should-have-been hated professor's care.

"It wasn't an overnight occurrence," the professor was being intentionally vague; trying to provide the least amount of information that would satisfy Harry's curiosity. "Let's just say that an event occurred over the Christmas holiday of your first year that caused me to reevaluate my initial opinion of you."

Am I imagining things or does he sound embarrassed?

Harry could tell this was a topic the Potions Professor did not want to discuss, but the young wizard couldn't imagine why. Harry would have thought the man would be happy that Harry was at least taking him seriously and deep down Harry thought maybe this could start to change his views of Snape after all.

"And that was it? You were just nice to me after that?"

Snape paused before answering, "I was certainly more tolerant of you going forward."

Harry thought hard about that statement, maybe his other self hadn't realized the paradigm shift in the professor. He still couldn't see how they went from mutual hatred to father-son.

"Did I still accuse you of trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"

The professor actually laughed, "Yes, unfortunately all of that still occurred up to Quirrell's death, however I believe that was also the moment you realized I was no longer an enemy to you. While my opinion of you had been consistently changing throughout the end of first year, yours to me was a bit of a sudden leap."

Snape sighed as if he decided that he could not get out of the conversation, so he would give in a little more than he wanted to.

"What was different between our realities Harry was that in mine, I spent most of spring term determined to get you away from your relatives. In hindsight, I can now say that it was not only because it was the right thing to do but because I truly wanted what was best for you. At the time I told myself that it was what any responsible teacher would do for their student. It wasn't, however, nearly as easy as I would have hoped, but I should not have expected otherwise. Albus was insistent that the blood wards were of the utmost importance and your life inside that house, while not ideal, was also not endangered."

Harry listened to the story as if he were getting pieces of a memory back; as if he'd had amnesia or something and he was now trying to fit pieces of two different puzzles into one. It was a whole other life of his that actually existed without him knowing it.

"By the end of term, after the Philosopher's Stone debacle and you were unconscious in the hospital wing, the Headmaster informed me that he had decided to send you back to them. I refused to let him, telling him I'd take you under my care and if he didn't agree then he could find another former Death Eater to spy for him should the Dark Lord return. He finally agreed and put my already heavily warded home under a Fidelius Charm. Honestly I think he put up a big fuss just to get me to do exactly what I did. It worked out for us, so I cannot hold it against him."

He could hear the endearment in Snape's voice talking about events perfectly relevant to the man, but not at all to Harry. Instead, Harry closed his eyes wishing it had been him. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. How did he react being told he'd be living with Snape of all people? Was he excited just to be away from Privet Drive that he would have gone with anyone?

It didn't matter either way because apparently Snape had deemed the conversation closed, picking up his parchment to continue reviewing whatever it was. Living with the professor meant he'd get plenty of opportunities to ask about this other life and he intended to take full advantage of it.

"What is that you're working on?" Harry asked casually, but in true Snape fashion he completely ignored the question.

"Have you put any more thought into shaving your head?" Snape asked bluntly, not even looking up from the parchment he was reading.

Harry flinched at the abrupt question.

"Erm... yeah," he started, this causing Snape to look up, "I might as well just get it over with right?" He ran his hand through the black mess again coming back with more hair in his fingers as if to prove a point.

"It's completely your decision," Snape replied, going back to his reading, "would you like some assistance?"

Harry took a deep breath considering the offer, "Erm... I don't think so."

"Ok. I'll leave the clippers Alton brought by for you in the lavatory after dinner," the professor casually said as if he were talking about going to buy potions ingredients.

Harry stared down at his feet just to have somewhere else to look besides Snape, feeling oddly out of place. Suddenly, the older wizard looked towards the door and a couple seconds later a piece of parchment appeared on the coffee table in front of them that just said Alton Smithe.

"Your healer is here," Snape called standing up and heading towards the door.

Harry could only assume that it was some kind of Wizarding Doorbell he'd just experienced. Not for the first time since entering the wizarding world he was amazed with what magic could do.

Grabbing his crutches, Harry stood up and started to head with Snape to the door before he was stopped.

"Sit down," Snape scolded him, "we'll have tea in here."

Harry sat back down, but this time on the sofa. He laid down sideways with his legs resting on the cushions next to him, really hoping Snape wouldn't mind his casual position. The sofa was quite comfortable and as long as he didn't get lectured by Snape, he determined this was going to be his spot.

A tray filled with tea, cups, and biscuits came hovering into the sitting room, practically over Harry's head. Sitting up a little further, he saw Healer Smithe walk in and take the armchair Harry had been previously sitting in. Snape hadn't followed and when Harry turned to find the potions professor, he saw Snape standing by the kitchen doorway staring at him as if he'd seen a ghost. He shook his head when their eyes met and entered the room taking his seat as well. Snape served tea for the three of them.

"So Harry," Healer Smithe started, "you had quite the weekend."

Harry frowned, "Something like that sir." He took a sip of his tea, which was surprisingly flavorful.

"I wish I could say the rest of your summer would go smoothly, but it at least won't be as bad as this weekend," he pulled out a folder from the bag Harry just noticed he brought with him, "I've reworked your treatment schedule due to the infection you had. Luckily, your blood work is stabilized again, but we'll continue to take blood everyday to monitor it. "

"Everyday?" That sounded far from pleasant.

"Unfortunately yes, we'll do a blood sample every morning until your induction chemo is completed. Which brings me to-" he handed Harry a schedule which might as well have been written in German, " - the schedule. It's been recommended, and I agree, that you start a continuous round of chemo to finish off the induction phase."

Harry looked down at the paper, shook his head and handed it over to Snape. "Continuous? Like, as in all the time?"

"Again, unfortunately yes. On top of having to miss several doses due to the infection, your blood samples weren't where we'd hope they would be at this point of induction, so we're going to go more aggressive to finish it off. Hopefully that will give it an extra push to remission. Starting Friday, you'll be on a 22hr on, 2hr off, schedule for a total of 7 days. Thursday I'll be by to do another Intrathecal, which should have been done this past weekend."

Harry could feel both sets of eyes on him gauging his reaction. He resisted the urge to complain, knowing it wouldn't matter in the end anyway, and decided to keep whatever bit of dignity he could.

"So, nothing tomorrow?"

"You should rest," Healer Smithe explained. "You're still recovering from the attack and you should gain as much strength as possible."

Harry nodded - that's all he ever did lately - and zoned out the rest of the conversation between his professor and his healer thinking about the fact that his blood work did not look promising to reach remission. It was a depressing thought. He didn't pay attention to the conversation around him until he heard Dumbledore's voice from the floo.

"Severus," the Headmaster's floating head greeted, "can you spare a few minutes?"

"I'll be right through," Snape replied standing up and Healer Smithe mirrored him once the headmaster was no longer in the floo.

"I'll be by tomorrow morning for a blood sample," Healer Smithe said while he readied his bag to leave. "Severus, please consider my suggestion."

Harry perked up at that statement, of all the times not to pay attention, he missed the chance to eavesdrop on something good.

"I'll consider it Alton," Snape walked the healer to the door and bid him farewell.

"I need to visit the headmaster," Snape said, coming up to the sofa. Harry had laid back down across and expected to be reprimanded for it, however the professor had that far away look again. "If you need me, I've recovered the sphere."

He handed Harry the sphere from his bedroom on Privet Drive. Harry lowered his eyebrows remembering the last time he tried to use it.

"I think it's broken sir. When I squeezed it during the attack, nothing happened."

"That's because it recognized you had intruders after you," Snape smirked. "You wouldn't want your enemy to know you had called for help, correct?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. That was the most Slytherin-thing he'd ever heard and yet totally brilliant. He was legitimately impressed by the idea. Before he could say anything to his professor though, the man placed his potions textbook on the table and then floo'ed to the Headmaster's office.

Harry picked up the potions book, assuming he was to start reading for his summer assignments. He'd been avoiding this subject because living with the professor - when he had every intention of reading over his assignments - meant he would get the inevitable tongue lashing early and he just didn't want to subject himself to that. Plus, without knowing his O.W.L mark for potions, he didn't think working on an assignment for a class he might not take was a good use of time. Now though, he'd either have to start the reading or get up to get another book and he just didn't want to move at that moment.