~~~~AU SS~~~~

Severus walked into the sitting room in his home on Spinner's End after spending another night of long hours in his potions lab. This summer he had been working on a commissioned project and although it paid well, it also made for a lot of late nights. It was after midnight, so he was surprised to see Harry still up and sitting at the desk writing.

"You're up late," Severus said quietly so as not to surprise his son from behind.

Harry, who celebrated his 15th birthday only two weeks ago, turned around - not at all surprised - with an apprehensive look in his eyes.

"Aunt Petunia died three days ago," Harry said in a daze holding up what Severus assumed to be the latest correspondence with his cousin Dudley.

Severus would have been happy if Harry had never spoken to the Dursleys ever again, however the Gryffindor had a capacity for forgiveness that rivaled Lily's, so when Dudley asked to meet with Harry last summer, Severus supported him. The meeting had gone surprisingly well and since then the two boys had been writing to each other regularly and even met up over the last Easter break. Now, the professor could hear the confliction in his son's voice from this news.

"How do you feel about that?" He asked treading lightly; planning to follow Harry's lead on it. He pulled up a chair next to the desk Harry was sitting at.

"It was a car accident, isn't that ironic? For all the times they lied to me about how my parents died... It's karma," Harry said unprompted, then he paused before continuing, "I feel bad for Dudley. Besides that, I don't really feel much of anything. Is that wrong of me?"

"Not at all," Severus said squeezing Harry's shoulder in support. "In fact, I think that's quite normal given the situation you were in."

Severus wished he could understand what Harry was going through. This was another example of Harry's pure soul because when Tobias Snape died only two months after Severus took the dark mark, he didn't even feel an ounce of grief for his father's death nor any guilt about not feeling any grief. If anything he was happy to never see the man again. Harry though was visibly torn by this news and his feelings regarding it.

"Dudley asked me to attend the funeral this Sunday," the young wizard said, turning his attention fully to Severus. "Will you come with me?"

The professor paused, frozen in time; was this really a good idea? No, he knew that without even thinking too hard about it. The last time he'd seen the Dursley's he had more than made a scene in their pristine, perfect neighborhood. That being said, he could not deny Harry the request if he needed the support.

"Of course," he said knowing this was going to be a bad idea all around.

It was raining when Severus woke up Sunday morning, the day of Petunia Dursley's funeral. The night before, he had transfigured their dress robes into black muggle suits so they wouldn't stand out for the occasion. The last thing anyone needed was to have Vernon Dursley running his mouth about magic and freaks, however that also meant he could not use any spells to keep themselves dry from the pouring rain. It was bound to be a miserable day for them all.

They were dressed and ready in plenty of time and Severus disapparated them near the cemetery in Surrey. They walked to the cemetery in silence; Severus running through all the things he should not do today should any issues arise.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked Harry one more time before they made their way into the crowd.

"Yeah," Harry said leaning onto his father, "I have to do this, not just for Dudley, but for myself too."

"I understand," the professor replied solemnly pointing to a couple of chairs in the back row. He had plenty of practice in his life trying not to stand out in a crowd. "Just in case, let's sit near the back."

They took their seats for the small service by the graveside, covered in an awning to protect the guests from the heavy rain, and watched carefully as Dudley and Vernon approached. It was a lovely service and somehow they managed to find four people to speak of what a wonderful woman, wife, and mother Petunia was causing Severus the need to use every Occlumency shield he had to remain calm. The woman was vile and deserved none of what was being said. When they asked if anyone else had words about Petunia they would like to share, it was difficult for Severus to resist, but a funeral was no place for a fight.

After the service, as everyone was gathering before heading back to Privet Drive for the reception - luckily something Harry did not wish to attend - Severus walked with Harry slowly up to the gravesite of his aunt. There were framed pictures all around showing a seemingly perfect life that she had lived with her husband and son and zero evidence that her nephew had lived with them for 10 long and painful years.

"Excuse me," an elderly woman with short curled grey hair tapped Harry on the shoulder and Severus was instantly on alert for any trouble. "Are you that Potter boy? Petunia's nephew?"

It was obvious Harry recognized this woman and was surprised that she specifically called him out, "Hi Mrs. Carewell, yes that's me."

"It's so good to see you son," she patted his arm in sympathy, "I had wondered what happened to you. It seemed you just never came back one summer after... What school was that? Venon said something for criminals?"

Severus couldn't stand to listen to anymore of this nonsense and cleared his throat to interrupt the conversation, "Harry goes to a school for the gifted."

Mrs. Carewell started to blush, "That makes much more sense. You were always such a quiet boy. And who are you?" She asked of Severus; his dark hair and black suit made him look intimidating to anyone who didn't already know him - and maybe a few that did.

"Oh," Harry said without missing a beat and a smile on his face for the first time that day, "this is my fath-"

"YOU!"

Severus was instantly on alert, standing directly in between Harry and the direction of the unmistakable sound of Vernon Dursley yelling across the lawn. If that arsehole thought he was going to try to lay a hand on Harry, it would be the last thing he did on this Earth. Severus wouldn't care one bit that they were at the funeral for the man's wife, he would do whatever it took to protect Harry.

On cue, Vernon waddled up to them faster than a man of that size should be able to; his face purple with rage.

"How dare you show your face here?" Harry's irate uncle growled at him beyond Severus's shoulder.

The other guests were murmuring - Mrs. Carewell had long left - but none attempted to step in and help even as Vernon reached for Harry. Luckily, Severus had been well trained, just in case, as both a Death Eater and spy and grabbed the man's arm, inches from Harry's chest, twisting as he pulled the large man away from Harry. As expected, Vernon bellowed in pain, something that Severus didn't feel bad about one bit.

"Dad!" Severus turned at the word, not lightening up his grip at all, but it was not Harry that called him. Instead, Dudley was coming down the hill towards all the commotion speaking to Vernon. "Leave 'em alone Dad, I asked Harry to be here."

With Dudley now directly in front of them and, if possible, even more spectators looking on, Severus let go of his grip simultaneously backing up closer to Harry. Dudley pulled Vernon away, talking quickly to the man, until somehow he convinced Harry's uncle to leave them be.

"Thanks Dudley," Harry greeted his cousin while watching Vernon walk away with a defiant look to his face. "I'm sorry about you mum."

~~~~SS~~~~

"What do you mean I can't go?" Harry asked, sounding completely defeated after breakfast on Wednesday morning, which for the young Gryffindor consisted of only a smoothie as he was still queasy from the four days of chemotherapy.

Given how hard the last set of treatments were on him, Severus had made the decision to wait to tell Harry about not being able to attend Charlie's funeral until now, knowing it would be an issue.

"Is there a certain part you're having a difficult time grasping?" Severus asked partially sarcastic, partially because he wanted Harry to get to the conclusion himself. It had been a rough couple of nights for Harry, and by extension Severus, so neither were in the best mood to discuss the upcoming funeral arrangements.

"Do you always answer a question with a question?" Harry spat back without much bite behind it, but he got his point across. "Because it's bloody annoying sometimes."

"Watch the language. Let's go through this again," Snape said slowly and a bit more condescending than he meant but he didn't appreciate having to explain himself twice since Harry likely didn't listen to much after he knew he would not be allowed to attend, "First, the Weasley's are a big family and quite well known, ergo there will likely be at least a hundred people present all of which could infect you unknowingly with a wide range of infectious germs.

"Second," Severus said interrupting Harry before he could get a word in edgewise, "I highly doubt you'd like to cause any problems that may arise when the youngest Mr. Weasley sees you at his brother's funeral; no one wants any fighting - muggle or wizarding - at a funeral. Trust me, it's not something you want to experience.

"Lastly, and the one I deem the most significant, you will literally be in the middle of your five hour chemotherapy. So unless you plan on doing it from the gravesite, you simply cannot go."

Somehow Harry managed to give Severus a fiery glare which he removed the moment Minerva walked into the kitchen presumably from the floo. She walked in and peered between the professor and student clearly having heard the tail end of their conversation.

"Harry," his transfiguration professor said walking confidently up to her lion, correctly guessing why he was so upset, "Severus is just doing what's in your best interest, I know it's hard to see that right now."

Severus was grateful for Minerva's help the last two days as she had been over each day to help Harry through his four hour chemotherapy. The new medications were hitting Harry hard, which was difficult for all of them. So now Harry had two adults fully watching him and Severus guessed he was feeling a bit suffocated from it being so different than what he's used to.

Eventually Harry sat back down at the table and looked over to Severus with sad eyes, "I need to go sir. Sirius didn't have a funeral and I couldn't go to my aunt and uncle's funeral, not that I particularly wanted to go to that one, but it's just..." He took a cleansing breath but didn't finish.

"I'm sorry Harry, but you cannot go," Severus explained placing his hand on top of Harry's. He understood where Harry was coming from; he wanted closure for the deaths he felt directly responsible for, no matter how mistakenly placed that blame was. "Alternatively, if you'd like, Molly had asked to come see you when you're feeling up for visitors. I can ask her to come over beforehand."

"No," Harry immediately responded, "she has enough to worry about this week without adding me to the mix of it all."

The professor was positive Harry believed that excuse, but he suspected it was more that he was afraid she would blame him as Ron had done even though Severus assured him she did not feel the same.

~~~~HP~~~~

As expected Harry tried to plead yet again come Friday that he wanted to go to Charlie's funeral, which Snape repeatedly denied on the same grounds as before. At this point, he knew there was literally zero chance he would be able to go and he just didn't have the energy to continue to argue against Snape any longer, especially in the professor's currently short mood.

Harry had been plagued with nightmares every night that week - most likely from thoughts of the funeral - which kept him up most nights and every time he was up, Snape was up with him. Harry appreciated this sentiment, even if it embarrassed him a little, because he was used to dealing with them alone both at Privet Drive and in the dorms here at school. This, however, led to a short temper for both of them by the end of the week and as a result Snape spent most of the days locked away in his office or lab.

Professor McGonagall had dinner with them on Friday night, which was awkward for Harry because even though he'd gotten used to seeing his professors casually now, he had never had such a private dinner with his Head of House before. She was more relaxed than he'd ever seen her and Harry was able to see the true friendship between her and Snape; even if the defense professor would never admit to such a thing. Before she left that night, she promised to send his well wishes to the Weasley's for him at the funeral the next afternoon. It wasn't exactly ideal for Harry, but it was the best he was going to get.

Saturday morning - the day of Charlie's funeral and the start of Harry's second week of consolidation chemotherapy - he already had the intrathecal done and was laying on the sofa in the sitting room having recently started his 5 hour medication when Snape rushed into the room from his private office looking wildly around the room clearly disturbed over something.

Since that door housed both his office and laboratory Harry couldn't say for sure which one the professor had recently been using. The Gryffindor knew Snape's dark mark had started burning again at least once this week because he had seen the wrapping around Snape's forearm; showing that the latest burn salve had not worked, likely contributing to the professor's foul mood. He had heard Malfoy stop by that same night, but no matter how many times he tried to listen in at the office door, it was clearly warded against eavesdropping. This led him to believe the professor had been working on the salve most of the time, but since he valued his life, he didn't dare ask.

Interestingly, Snape was dressed in his black teaching robes which made Harry's anxiety rise just thinking about classes with him. There were only two weeks left until the start of term, and he was relieved he would not have to endure classes with Snape at least to start. He was honestly nervous about where his relationship stood with the professor, given everything they've dealt with this summer. Would things go back to the way they used to be when they both mutually hated each other, even though they no longer did? Or would they shock the rest of the school when they actually got along?

"Where are you going?" Harry asked watching the professor pace the room searching for something.

"Where is my book?" Snape asked to no one in particular, but Harry was the only one in the room.

If the chemo hadn't already started taking its toll on Harry and he were feeling better, he would have laughed at Snape's vague comment. Not only was it abnormal for something to be out of place in his quarters, but there were literally dozens upon dozens of books stored here. It was like asking for a specific snowflake in the middle of a blizzard.

"Care to give me any information on which book?" Harry waited as Snape continued to search going to and from his office, then into the kitchen, and finally - Harry assumed - to the professor's bedroom. When Snape came back into the sitting room, he was carrying a large stack of parchment and one of the muggle medical books. "Are you eventually going to answer me?"

Snape turned around to look at the teenager behind him and Harry's heart rate rose with the glare he received. Something was off and it was concerning that it fell on the day of Charlie's funeral.

"Unfortunately I am needed elsewhere this afternoon," he hesitantly replied which was a surprise to Harry; where was he going? "Alton will be staying with you until my return."

"Where are you going?" He'd officially gone in a full circle. That was the first question he'd asked Snape and yet after all this time it still went unanswered, which probably was not a coincidence.

"It is none of your concern."

Should have expected that. I'm really getting tired of that answer.

Harry watched as Snape was sorting through the pieces of parchment appearing to put them in some kind of order, not at all hiding his agitation. Was he angry that Harry had been up with nightmares all week?

"What's wrong sir?" Harry had been living almost exclusively with Snape for six weeks and he shivered at the thought that he could now tell when something was legitimately wrong with the professor versus when he was simply annoyed. This definitely seemed like the former.

However, before Snape could say another word, the floo roared to life and Healer Smithe came walking out with his standard black bag. Harry was briefly jealous and questioned to himself how a wizard who has been living in the muggle world for so long managed to floo better than he did. He was committed to learning to tolerate at least one form of common magical travel.

"Good afternoon Harry," the healer greeted making himself comfortable in the sitting room by pulling out some of his files to review while sitting in the non-Snape armchair. Now the Gryffindor officially felt like a toddler being babysat, but remembering how last Saturday went he couldn't say much against it. He was extremely nervous for how today would go because he really hated that burning feeling in his core. Hopefully, taking the IV morphine ahead of time would help prevent any of those issues today.

Snape placed the books and parchment back into his office as the wizarding doorbell deposited a different piece of parchment directly in front of the professor. Harry tried to get a good look at the parchment, but as always Snape incinerated it before he got the chance.

"I have to go," he told the healer, again giving Harry the feeling of a father talking to his toddler's babysitter, "if you need anything, I'll have the sphere with me, however I'd prefer no interruptions for the next several hours. Surely there's nothing that can come up you won't be able to handle on your own."

That sounds ominous. Where is he going? He wouldn't really wear teaching robes to the funeral, would he?

Again, Harry wasn't given the chance to ask as the professor simply stormed out the door, with the familiar billowing of his robes behind him, leaving Harry wondering why he didn't floo to wherever he was going.

Harry spent the next couple of hours in what he referred to as his chemotherapy routine - consisting of any combination of reading, vomiting, playing chess with Healer Smithe, trying to sleep, and trying to eat. This time though after attempting all of that at least once, he decided to pick up one of his muggle pencils and tried sketching in the notebook Snape had gotten him for his birthday. It was something he enjoyed doing in his muggle primary school - and was pretty good at for an eight year old - and sometimes during the summers at the Dursley's to pass the time locked in his bedroom. With the Weasley's fresh on his mind he started with Ginny, picturing her in his head, with her long red hair and pale, but quite beautiful, freckled complexion. Before he knew it, he was completely focused on his work drawing Ginny flying on the Quidditch pitch only needing to stop a couple of times to sick up in the loo - Healer Smithe following him each time - but he could have sworn it was less than normal; at least it seemed so. Overall, it ended up being a good distraction from the nausea and throbbing pain throughout his body and he was happy with how it was coming along.

Before he knew it, the chemo was completed and he was getting the IV of morphine to hopefully combat the awful stomach pains from last Saturday. At least for the next two Saturdays he wouldn't need to do the 5 hour chemos since the next two were his slow weeks; only the IT plus one hour of the same medication he got during his induction phase. It seemed ironic to be happy about doing the same routine he had done back at Privet Drive when back then it felt horrible. Now that he had something worse to compare it to, it was the highlight of this phase. With any hope, he might have some more energy in the upcoming two weeks, right before classes started.

The morphine evidentially helped Harry fall asleep because the next thing he knew, he found himself waking up to the sound of pages flipping next to him. He pulled the blanket that had been placed on top of him tightly around his chest relishing in the warmth surrounding his thin body. The benefit of the always chilly dungeon was getting to wrap up in a warm blanket, a feeling he secretly loved.

Opening his eyes to a dark blurry room, Harry reached out for his glasses taking note that whoever was reading beside him must have removed them while he was sleeping. Once they were firmly in place on his head, he looked around the dark room. The sun had clearly set and only the lanterns in the far corners of the room were lit giving a soft orange glow. The fire was warm in front of him casting shadows over the reader to his right. Now that his mind was waking up, he knew it wasn't Snape because this person was not in Snape's chair. He felt his heart catch in his throat when he realized who was sitting with him, a ball of light over her head to provide ample reading light without waking Harry.

"Morning Harry," her soft voice whispered, echoing across the stone walls.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he asked sleepily and rubbed his eyes from under his glasses; smearing them in the process, but he didn't care. "You should be at the Burrow with... Everyone."

Hermione placed the book on the table in front of them. She was still dressed in her conservative black knee length dress from the funeral with her bushy hair pushed as neatly as possible behind her ears. Harry felt embarrassingly out of place in his pyjamas next to her.

"Mrs. Weasley asked me to come stay with you for a bit," she explained leaning over closer to him, "Professor Snape floo'ed over here with me, but then he went back with your healer. Apparently his wards won't let just anyone floo in alone... which is brilliant really."

The Gryffindor witch was much more cautiously optimistic of Harry's newfound relationship with the professor, even though she claimed to be perfectly accepting of it. Having spent an abnormal amount of their school time - both inside and outside of the classroom - hating Professor Snape, she was naturally adverse to the idea of Harry living with the man now, but at the same time she was open-minded enough to see that something this summer had changed between them. She was also smart enough to know she wouldn't find out what that was if she ostracized Harry from the start.

"He was at the funeral?" Harry asked quietly to his only friend right now.

No matter how hard he tried, the wizard couldn't hide the disappointment from his voice. Harry obviously knew he wouldn't be allowed to go to the funeral, but the idea that Snape omitted the fact he was attending hurt him inside. Snape was never one to sugar coat anything - something that Harry had always appreciated - however by not telling Harry he was going, the professor did exactly that. Right now he depended on Snape's honesty when everyone else around him simply told him the things they thought he wanted to hear. Now he wasn't sure if he'd be able to trust what the former spy was telling him as the truth.

"No," Hermione exclaimed quickly. Then, picking up on Harry's torn emotions regarding Snape at the funeral, she awkwardly continued, "I mean, I guess so... I didn't realize he was there at first... I think he was trying to... stay hidden in the back with Malfoy."

"Malfoy was there?!" Harry sat up straighter on the sofa ready to storm off, but unsure where he would go, "What the hell was Malfoy doing there?!"

He couldn't help letting his anger fill him up inside. Unfortunately, that was a bad thing to do because he found himself vomiting over the edge of the sofa into the pail. Taking a deep breath, once the pail cleaned itself out, he tried to calm himself down about the two Slytherins being at the funeral. What could that possibly mean? It definitely couldn't be anything good, but his brain was way too fuzzy to sort through that now. Maybe it had something to do with Voldemort? Was everyone at the funeral in danger?

"Well, he was- " Hermione tried to answer, but at the last second, Harry didn't want to put her in the middle of something she had no idea about so he interrupted her.

"How was it... The funeral? How was everyone?" He asked instead. It was a silly question really - even though he hadn't been to many funerals he knew they were sad.

"It was sad," Hermione predictably said, averting her eyes to the fireplace watching the flames flicker across the top. "They had the service at the cemetery and then everyone went back to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley's heart is broken, which is expected. No one expects to bury their child."

Something about the way she said the last sentence hit him hard. She's right, no one should bury their child... Like Snape did in his old reality. Was that why he was so upset today? Did the funeral remind him of Harry's funeral from his old world? Harry hadn't realized he had gotten so used to the idea that this Snape was not only from somewhere else, but from a place where Harry was his son.

And now another set of parents were going through that horrible pain. This was too much for him. What good could honestly come from all of this? Why do all of these people continue to die while he's literally sitting here filling his body with a poison to try to stay alive? He had no idea how he was supposed to vanquish the Dark Lord as the prophecy said he will, so what if everyone was protecting him and dying for nothing? What if they didn't need to be?

"Ron misses you," Hermione said so quietly that if it weren't for the lack of any other sounds in the room, he never would have heard her, but it was successful in drawing Harry away from his invasive thoughts and back into the conversation. She placed her hand on Harry's arm causing him to flinch at her touch, "not like he would say so, but I know he does. He regrets what he said and did... it's been hard for him you know."

"Hard!?... For him?!" Harry asked suddenly feeling threatened and furious, "Ron doesn't have a clue of what he's talking about if he's going to try to convince me this is only hard on him. I would give anything to trade places with him," Harry sharply pulled his arm away from Hermione then mumbled, "actually, no, I wouldn't... because I wouldn't wish my life on anyone, especially one of my best friends. This is awful and if he can't see that..."

Try as he might, he couldn't ignore the tears that he saw crawling down Hermione's cheeks when he looked up at her. Call it his Gryffindor chivalry, but he hated to see her cry; and it was even worse that he made her cry. She wiped them away, but more kept falling demonstrating how much she hated when her two best friends fought.

"It's not that Harry and you know it," her eyes pleaded with him to understand, "we all know how he gets with Professor Snape... You of all people should know how he feels about Professor Snape, for all the time you've collectively hated him... And then to see you so comfortable here - enough to call him by his given name - it was just too much for him," she sniffled and tried unsuccessfully to regain her composure. "If you'll notice Harry, you still call his parents by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

Harry paused. No, that wasn't true... Except now that he thought hard about it, it absolutely was and he hadn't even realized that until now. How many times had Mrs. Weasley asked him to call her Molly? After everything she'd done for him; treated him no different - maybe even better than - one of her own sons? And yet for some reason, it felt wrong to call her by her given name; like he would be an imposter in the Weasley family.

It definitely gave him something to consider though. Did he somehow insult Ron's family by using Snape's given name? If so, that wasn't his intentions at all and still didn't give Ron the right to say what he had. But why did it feel acceptable to call Snape by his name instead of the Weasley's? Maybe because Snape had no other family... just like Harry. In all his time living with the professor, he couldn't deny how much alike they were.

"Hermione," Harry asked when thinking about family, it brought up a question he'd been trying to sort through in his mind this last week, "can your parents visit you at Hogwarts? Like, if there was an emergency or something?"

Hermione seemed confused by the sudden change of subject but thought hard about the question, "That's interesting because muggles would see-"

"I remember all about the ruins," he interrupted her trying to prevent the lecture he was sure he was about to receive, "but there has to be exceptions for students. I mean, if something happened and your parents needed to come, how would they get here?"

"I don't know Harry; I'll do some research on it. Why do you ask though?" She sounded happy about the project and Harry couldn't help but stifle a laugh at her excitement over doing research in her summer.

"Oh, erm," Harry rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed and feeling a little vulnerable, "I was hoping to see Dudley soon, but I doubt I'll be allowed to leave here. So I thought maybe there was a way he could visit me."

"Let me see what I can find, but Harry, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore or Professor Snape would know the answer. You could always ask one of them."

Suddenly the floo roared to life and Healer Smithe walked out followed shortly by Snape, still dressed in his teaching robes that he apparently did wear to the funeral.

"Good night Miss. Granger," Snape said dismissing her without any preamble and barely making eye contact with either student.

"Oh, um..." Hermione looked between Snape and Harry and back. "I was hoping to stay a little longer sir. If that's alright with you, I mean."

Snape narrowed his eyes, his jaw visibly clenched as he considered what she had asked. "As you wish, but Molly will be expecting you no later than midnight."

Snape waved his wand several times and a set of tea came levitating into the sitting room as he was walking out. The healer finished setting Harry up with another round of morphine while Hermione poured the tea, and then left as quickly as Snape did.

"What do you think is going on?" Hermione asked, having picked up on the cold mood of the professor. She placed her tea cup on the table in front of her.

Not hearing Hermione, Harry peered into his own cup and carefully placed it down next to hers. There was no way that was going to sit well in his roiling stomach now. Then as if she was reading his mind, a glass of ginger ale came levitating over Harry's head from the kitchen.

"Thanks 'Moine," he said, grabbing the glass and taking a tentative sip. The cold liquid felt refreshing on his dry throat and the ginger helped to settle the cramping of his stomach.

Hermione bit her lip in confusion, "Harry, I didn't summon that."

The wizard lowered his eyebrows in confusion feeling his face flush yet again, "Oh, Sev - erm... Professor Snape must have sent it in here for me."

"You call him whatever you'd like around me," she explained with a soft, warm smile, "I'm happy you feel comfortable around at least one adult to let them take care of you... especially now. You deserve this Harry, no matter what the reason is."

"I can't really explain it," Harry said sheepishly knowing that Snape would not only kill him for telling her, but she wouldn't believe him anyways.

"You don't need to... Oh Harry! I can't believe I forgot to tell you," she jumped up from her seat - causing him to startle slightly - and pulled out a stack of parchment, "I'm going to be one of your student tutors this year! Professor McGonagall sent me an owl the other day asking if I wouldn't mind, which of course I don't. I was practically yours and Ron's tutor anyways."

"That's great 'Mione. I know it's a lot of work, so thank you for doing it." Again he felt his ears turn red in embarrassment. It didn't matter if this arrangement was normal for his circumstances, it still seemed like he was getting a special exemption.

"It's nothing, really," she waved him off, "I'm covering your Charms and Transfiguration classes. Professor McGonagall said we'll have a meeting the first day of classes with the professors to go over the schedule and our expectations."

Harry smiled at his friend. She was in her element and for once Harry let her ramble about classes and lessons and homework as he wondered who else would be helping him this year. He never could have one normal year could he? And even though Voldemort had already made an attempt to get to him, Harry thought there was no way he was lucky enough that the dark wizard was done for the year. Between Hermione's rambling about schoolwork, his thoughts on Voldemort, and the new morphine, he had no hope of staying awake when his eyes started to get heavy with sleep.

~~~~SS~~~~

It wasn't fair to Harry and he knew it, but in order to get through the day with any sense of decorum, Severus needed to distance himself as much as possible from his young charge. If Harry knew he was going to the funeral beforehand, he would have been plagued with questions from the teenager that he could not answer.

Draco had come to him the day before declaring that he wanted to attend the funeral for Charlie Weasley, but knew he wouldn't be welcomed there. Severus understood, unfortunately from experience, that you never forgot the first person you tortured or killed as a Death Eater, and knowing the family - even if you seemingly hated them - only made it harder. Draco would never forget Charlie Weasley for as long as he lived. Naturally, Severus decided to use this as an opportunity to continue some of Draco's training on how to blend in and go unseen at a highly public event, especially because all of the Aurors patrolling would already be leaving them alone should they be seen.

The two Slytherins found themselves stealthily hiding at the back of the funeral ceremony covered by a well casted disillusionment charm courtesy of the newest Death Eater, neither saying a word to the other. It was a bright and sunny day, which was ideal for trying to cover up, but completely wrong for the atmosphere of the guests.

As the funeral proceeded Severus could tell Draco's part in it was weighing heavily on his young Slytherin's mind, but he resisted the urge to comment on it. Draco did what he had to do and regardless of his role that night, Charlie Weasley was considered dead the moment he was taken from the Burrow by Death Eaters. However, Severus knew telling the blonde those words would fall on deaf ears and he prayed to Merlin that, for Draco's sake, his first actual kill would be nameless and faceless.

It wasn't until everyone had supposedly left for the reception at the Burrow that either Slytherin felt comfortable enough to approach the gravesite. Surrounding the site were moving pictures of the family - Charlie when he was born and then as a little boy growing up already showing an affinity for magical creatures, Christmases as the family grew from four to seven to nine members large, Charlie's graduation from Hogwarts, and of course a wide range of pictures during his time in Romania with his dragons. All of this to show the life of a man who not only died far too soon, but a man that probably deserved to live more than Severus himself did.

"I'm glad you could make it," the defense professor was startled, unaware Molly Weasley had managed to sneak up on them - a testament to his current feelings.

"It was a lovely ceremony," was the first thing Severus thought to say knowing it was a filler for all the things he couldn't say; something everyone had told him after Harry's funeral and he now understood why.

"I'm sorry for your loss Mrs. Weasley," Draco's sincerity was not lost on the professor and he hoped the grieving mother would hear it too. "I wish-"

"We know you were there Draco," Molly's statement was not accusatory, but instead had sorrow laced within it. "I want you to know that I don't agree one bit with what Albus is asking of you..."

She trailed off, her voice trembling near the end, and Severus knew as a parent she was thinking what would happen if one of her other children were in Draco's position. Severus had gone down that winding path with Harry and it never ended well.

"I just want to help where I can Mrs. Weasley," Draco's voice wavered as he almost pleaded for her forgiveness. "If I had to take-"

"Mum? Everyone's heading..." They were interrupted again by Ron running over to find Molly, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of both Slytherins.

"What are you doing here Malfoy?!" the youngest Weasley son spat.

"Paying my respect to your mother," Draco sounded confident without being arrogant, something that was new for the boy.

"Yeah right," it was clear Ron was looking to pick a fight, a side effect of his intense grief that Severus could relate to as he remembered the disastrous mess he left in his quarters after returning from Harry's funeral. "You're probably gloating you ferret. For all we know, you're already one of them-"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Molly screeched, swatting at her son, "you will not do this today. Do you understand?!"

"Yes Mum," Ron's face immediately flushed in a combination of embarrassment and anger. He continued to speak to his mother, but not taking his eyes off Draco, "Dad said everyone is heading back and asked me to stay with you."

Severus shifted his weight awkwardly on his feet feeling like he was intruding on a personal family moment. Draco appeared just as uncomfortable, but likely because he would never have experienced such a tender moment within a family; his own always stoic and formal.

"I'll be right along," she brushed some invisible dust from the shoulder of Ron's dress robes, "don't you worry about me."

Ron glared over at the two men he thought - probably correctly - did not deserve to be at his brother's funeral and nodded before hanging his head and walking away.

"You should both stop by the Burrow," Molly too kindly invited them, "it's not much, but we would love to have you."

"Thank you," Severus said after it became obvious that the blonde was not wanting or able to speak, "we'll try to stop in."

By the time he made it to the Burrow - Draco having decided it was best he did not attend - Severus was already exhausted. He had not anticipated the funeral to be so draining on him. Charlie had been a student before Severus's fifth year teaching, but he hadn't had much other interactions with the young man. Since Charlie had not been an active part of the Order in Britain until recently, he didn't have much other reason to know him outside of Hogwarts.

And yet, maybe it was because his own son's funeral was so fresh in his mind or because he knew how hard Harry was taking this death back at his quarters. Either way, once it was over, he was emotionally drained when he walked back out of the floo and knew that by demanding Miss. Granger

leave it would almost guarantee her to stay until Harry had fallen asleep. Was it a Slytherin tactic? Yes. Was it cowardly? Absolutely. But he couldn't answer all the questions he knew Harry would ask.

It was almost midnight when he walked back into the sitting room with Alton, a glass of freshly poured firewhiskey in their hands. Harry was asleep on his back on the sofa, a piece of furniture that now had his body's imprint permanently impressed upon it and was closer to the piece he'd left in his old reality. Alton carefully, so as not to wake him up, disconnected the IV of morphine from his port and Severus pulled the blanket up to cover his now exposed chest.

"Poppy will be by tomorrow and Monday for the next two four hour doses and I'll be back Tuesday for the last four hour until September 7th," the healer was placing the medical supplies back in his bag and pulling out the refills of all of Harry's tablet medications. Hermione watched wide eyed as the men discussed her friend's care in front of her. "After Tuesday, he'll do 2 weeks of only IT and a one hour on Saturdays with the week off in between. The one hour is Vincristine which is what he had in induction, so hopefully it'll be easier on him before we start the next round. He had a heavy dose of Morphine tonight, so he shouldn't have too much in the way of the stomach pain again. As always, call me if anything urgent happens."

"Thank you Alton," Severus said, sounding exhausted, shaking the healer's hand. "Have a good night."

"Try to get some sleep Severus," he said before waving goodbye to Hermione and floo-ing back to his home.

"I should go sir," Hermione said, collecting her things from the table and the armchair she was sitting in.

Severus recognized that she felt uncomfortable in his presence; likely due to being with a professor in his quarters, during the summer.

"Miss. Granger," he said, keeping a very neutral tone, "you should not get into the habit of using magic in the summer holiday. I recognize you'll be 17 in only a month and the laws do not extend to Hogwarts, however school is not in session now."

Hermione looked flustered at being accused of something so bluntly, "I'm sorry sir, but I don't know what you're talking about."

Severus lifted one eyebrow contemplating what she'd said, "So it was not you who summoned the glass of ginger ale for Harry?"

Hermione shook her head, "No sir, we thought that was you."

Both professor and student looked over at the sleeping wizard on the sofa. Had Harry accidentally done magic without knowing it? If so, how many other times had this occurred and how much faster would these bouts of accidental magic drain his magical core? Without even thinking, Severus ran his hand over Harry's forehead, almost as if he were moving the fringe if he still had his hair.

"You care about him," Hermione finally said nervously. "If I may... He needs you sir. Harry hasn't had many adults he could really trust and depend on... hasn't had any actually. Sirius was close, but sometimes I think he wanted Harry to be James so much... and I think Harry was too different."

"You have no idea," Severus said, too quiet for the young witch to hear; referring to both how different Harry was from James and how much Severus cared about Harry. "You should go Miss. Granger."

"One more thing sir."

She's really testing her luck tonight.

"Yes."

"Harry mentioned wanting to visit with his cousin," she said quickly, giving away how nervous she was. Severus respected the amount of courage it had to take for her to make such a request to the most hated professor at Hogwarts when he was obviously having a rough day. "And that's another relationship that's been quite awful for him, but somehow has turned around..."

She paused, likely hoping the professor would finish her thought for her.

"Continue," he prompted.

"I don't know if it's possible for muggles to come into the castle," she was going into one of her know-it-all lecture-modes, "I mean, it must somehow be possible if there were any emergency during the school year-"

He finally had to put an end to his misery, "Yes Miss Granger, the Headmaster can grant the necessary provisions for a muggle to visit Hogwarts through the castle wards. I will discuss the matter with him. Now please go."

"Thank you sir," she called as he handed her the floo powder from the mantle and she left.

Turning back to Harry, Severus thought about what Hermione had said. Obviously he knew that Harry hadn't had any adults he could depend on, but he hadn't thought about what that meant in this reality. Harry had gone through so much alone here, it was no wonder he placed such importance on his friends. Severus absolutely hated the field of divinations - for obvious reasons - but he wished at that moment he could know if Harry and Ron would reconcile because Harry needed his friends as much as he needed a stable adult in his life. Making the Decision he didn't want to risk waking Harry up by moving him to his bedroom, Severus sat down in his armchair and pulled a blanket over himself to sleep out in the sitting room just in case Harry needed him tonight.