~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was left with a lot to think about while he was sitting through his four hour chemotherapy on Sunday morning.

Armed with the new information that his extreme pain was likely due to his depleting magical core and not only the chemo side effects, Healer Smithe ordered the IV of morphine to be used for all his treatments going forward - not just Saturdays - and he left Snape with information on a morphine pump should he decide it was getting to be too much. The pump would be a small device inserted into his body with a tube running to his spinal cord to deliver the morphine that way instead of through an IV or his port. While it would likely give him a much better result with the morphine being directed into his spinal cord on a regular basis, it would need to be surgically placed - similar to the port - and he really didn't think he could go through that again. Yes, the pain was bad while it was happening, but the thought of anymore things in his body was more terrifying. Snape said they could discuss it when Harry wasn't in any pain, so he could make a clear decision, and would then leave the final decision up to the Gryffindor.

Harry was still unsure how he felt about everything that happened from the vision on Friday night. He already didn't trust Malfoy and now knowing that the Slytherin was the one to torture and almost kill - wanted to kill - Charlie, was just more reason they shouldn't allow him anywhere near any Order business. But on the other hand, no matter how much he wanted to, Harry could not deny what he'd seen; that Malfoy's initiation was awful and deep down he felt some kind of empathy for his classmate. The fact that Malfoy couldn't actually use the Killing Curse, even if he did use the Cruciatus, gave him some reason to doubt his own thoughts on the matter and only confused him further. If he were being honest, he couldn't really hold Malfoy responsible for using the Cruciatus Curse when he tried to do the same thing to Bellatrix last June... sometimes he hated his Gryffindor honor. Wherever he ended up with Malfoy, he also needed to think about what would happen if Ron found out he knew - which he naturally assumed he was not supposed to tell his best friend - the mere thought of that made him shutter.

Then there was the conversation with Snape last night running through his mind. He never expected it would take the turn it did and he definitely never expected to feel defensive on behalf of the professor. Harry had as much reason to hate muggles as Snape, but he'd never consider joining the Death Eaters. Just their name sounded like it would go against all of his morals, so that alone was reason enough to stay far away from them.

At the same time though, he couldn't discount the fact that he knew Snape's life growing up was as difficult as his own was at the Dursleys. Harry recognized that he'd been lucky because he had been able to use his injustices to empower himself and at the same time he did not let it consume him as Snape likely did. Plus, Harry got to leave his tormentors each September until June, whereas Snape just traded his rough home life for his rough school life. In the end, it was obvious Snape didn't necessarily have the same resolve Harry did when coming to Hogwarts to handle his school bullies. Closing his eyes, Harry tried to imagine what it would be like to be surrounded by people who idolized Voldemort, when you only had one friend and she was in the house against your own. He could almost feel the loneliness creeping up inside of him if he had to deal with the teenage versions of his dad and Sirius without Ron or Hermione by his side. It was no longer black or white and it hurt his head if he tried to think about it too much at one time.

"How are you feeling?" Snape asked, walking out of his office late Sunday afternoon. He'd spent a lot of time in there recently and Harry really wanted to know why, but never asked; if Snape wanted him to know he would have said so by now.

"As good as can be expected. I'm getting used to all this and don't get me wrong, it's awful, but as long as the burning pain isn't here I can handle it," Harry had finished chemo about two hours ago and was attempting to sketch on the sofa between the rounds of vomiting. Never did the young wizard think that vomiting this often would become the normal course of his life.

Snape sat down in his armchair watching Harry for signs of anything alarming. Apparently Harry passed whatever test it was because the man in front of his said, "I've been telling you that it's my belief that you do better with select information, last Friday being a prime example, so I think it's time we test that theory."

It may have seemed odd to anyone else, but Harry was flooded with excitement! Finally someone was going to voluntarily give him information; unprompted too! He placed his sketchbook off to the side, leaning forward so he could give Snape his full attention.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, aware that this could very well be bad news, but he craved it anyway. He wanted to feel like he was helping and not simply existing and trying to live.

Snape steepled his hands, choosing his words carefully, "I've been doing a lot of research on your cancer-"

Harry couldn't help but to smile, something that distracted Snape from his train of thought, especially when Harry claimed, "You sound just like Hermione."

The professor narrowed his eyes and replied unamused, "Since I am the adult, I think the correct turn of phrase is that she sounds just like me."

Harry hadn't thought about it like that, but he couldn't really refute the logic so he waited for Snape to continue.

"As I was saying," the professor said seriously, bringing Harry back to the conversation they were about to have, "as you already know, your cancer resides in your bone marrow. Therefore there are certain... characteristics that make it unique."

He's going to try to make me figure this out on my own isn't he?

"Like what?" Harry decided to play along for the time being, hopefully at some point Snape would get frustrated and simply tell him what was going on.

"For one," the professor continued, "you can never donate bone marrow because while cancer, in general, is not contagious, the instructions - so to say - for your Leukemia reside within your bone marrow and it can be shared if you were to give your bone marrow to another person."

"That's not a problem," Harry said slowly as if what he was about to say was of the utmost importance, "after all of the biopsies I'm sure to go through in the next three years, I don't think I'll ever want to voluntarily go through that procedure again. I'm not missing out on anything by not donating my bone marrow."

"Let me try this another way... the bone marrow is where the components of the blood are born - for every human," Snape said; both amused and frustrated with Harry's line of thinking, "and let us say you were to give some of your bone marrow to another person or your bone marrow, your blood, now makes up that of another person, the instructions for your cancer would then reside within that person's blood..."

He trailed off hoping Harry would catch on and was pleasantly surprised when the Gryffindor's eyes went wide with realization.

"Vold- I mean... You-know-who can have it then," Harry sat up straighter running his hands over his covered hairless head, clearly a habit from when his head was full of unmanageable black hair, "He used my blood to recreate his own, so that would mean there's a chance he has this."

"Exactly," Snape sighed in relief. "What we have not been able to ascertain is how far along it has progressed. For reasons unknown, it does not appear nearly as aggressive as your own."

Harry frowned in deep thought, "Well, that's simple - he's a stronger wizard than I am. His magic is probably doing a better job fighting it like mine couldn't, or wouldn't do, in the first place."

"Not necessarily," Snape leaned back as he walked through this logic in his own mind as well as with Harry. "Even if one were to ignore the prophecy's statement of the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, you have unfortunately contended against the Dark Lord on five separate occasions and he has yet to be victorious-"

"You mean he hasn't managed to kill me yet," Harry interrupted sarcastically.

"Precisely," Snape admitted with a warning look to his eyes, "No matter my feelings on the matter, do not discount those encounters, Harry. However you managed to become affected by your cancer it is not because you are a weak wizard. On the contrary, you are an extremely strong one."

That was a huge compliment, especially from Snape. Harry worried his bottom lip, thinking hard about what that meant about himself and the situation against the dark wizard. He decided to start with asking about himself; this opportunity wouldn't always be so perfectly set up.

"How did I manage to get the cancer?" It was always the first question that was asked and he had been thinking that it didn't matter to him how he got it, just that it happened, but deep down it did matter. He wanted to know... why me?

"Well," Snape said going back in his mind to the hours of reading that he had done recently, "Leukemia is typically genetic, meaning it's passed down within families. Your mother was obviously a muggleborn, so there is likely a family history of Leukemia somewhere in her family line."

Harry considered that and for once wished Aunt Petunia was still alive to ask. Had anyone else in his family fought the same disease he was fighting? And if so did they survive it? Dudley probably wouldn't know, but Harry decided to ask in his next letter to his cousin.

"But my magic should have gotten rid of it," Harry stated, allowing the unfairness of it all to fill him to his core. "That's why wizards don't get a whole range of muggle diseases."

"Theoretically you are correct," Snape said, picking up on Harry's current mood and treading lightly, not wishing to add fuel to his fire. "However, there is clearly something that prevented your magic from doing away with the Leukemia cells and I am working on finding out as much as I can on what that is."

Harry, who hated being different or the exception to every rule, didn't like the sound of that at all. What could cause his magic to not prevent something as important as this? He would have taken a myriad of other muggle illnesses over this one.

"So then, Vol-," he cut himself off again. Since learning that Snape had physical pain whenever he said Voldemort's name, he was trying his hardest not to say it, "you-know-who, has something that I don't have, but you don't think it's just more powerful magic?"

"Exactly," the professor confirmed, "if it were as simple as levels of magic, you would not have gotten it to begin with; every wizarding medical book supports that statement."

It made sense to Harry in theory, but in reality he does have Leukemia and it is trying to kill him so there wasn't much else he could think of besides his level of magic.

Even though Monday was a chemo day, Harry wanted to attempt to do his tutoring. On Monday's he had Herbology and Transfiguration tutoring during the day, with Neville and Hermione respectively, followed by defense with Snape in the evening. He had no doubts he'd be at least well enough for his evening classes, but with only each class being taught once a week for two hours, he realistically needed the tutoring to stay caught up.

On Monday morning, Harry was up, showered, and dressed with more energy than he had expected; it was one of those rare good days. Today's Herbology tutoring would only be his second time seeing Neville and the first time while actually getting a treatment done. As a pureblood, Neville wasn't aware of anything Harry was having to deal with, but he had been respectful enough the previous week not to ask too many personal questions. The same could not be said about Malfoy who asked whatever the hell he wanted regardless of how personal it was. Harry was already dreading tomorrow's set of tutoring with the Slytherin and was highly considering canceling it just because he could.

"I have a full schedule before lunch today," Snape lectured after breakfast, as Harry sat on the sofa and Madam Pomfrey set up his four hour chemo; Healer Smithe had been by earlier that morning for the blood sample, but did not return, choosing to send the results to the medi-witch, "but Mrs. Weasley will be here and then I'll be by for lunch and during my free period later this afternoon."

"Aren't you supposed to be in your office during your free periods? In case, I don't know, a student has a question or something?" Harry asked sarcastically. While the Gryffindor had never really needed to visit a professor during their free periods because he had Hermione to answer any question he had - and he would never be caught dead going to Snape's office voluntarily - theoretically he understood why they had open office time. As much as he wanted Snape to stay with him, he also didn't want it to come at the expense of the other students' education.

"Yes, and as I said last month, this new position allows me a bit more flexibility," the professor replied with a touch of anger in his voice; he was walking about their quarters collecting all his required supplies for class which Harry assumed threw off his morning. Not long after, Snape left for his first class, which Harry knew was supposed to be his own defense class. Last year, the thought of starting the week in Snape's class would have ruined his whole year; now he was actually looking forward to it once he could return to classes.

Harry had pulled out his Herbology essay on poisonous plant identifications when the floo roared and Mrs. Weasley stepped out.

"Good morning Harry," the Weasley matriarch called out, walking over to give Harry a careful hug so as not to crush the line going into his port.

"Good morning Mrs. Weasley," he replied, but then jumped right into asking, "How's Ginny doing?"

"Getting stronger by the minute. You know our Ginny, she's a stubborn one," Mrs. Weasley pulled out her customary knitting - it looked like it was going to be a gold scarf - and started working. "Madam Pomfrey thinks she'll be able to join classes even before October."

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice to sound confident that she would be alright at the end of everything. Maybe it was a bit of a projection of his own feelings on his situation, but he didn't want to risk it. If anyone could come out of this and stroll back into classes, Ginny could.

Neville showed up for their Herbology lesson when Harry still had an hour left of his chemo treatment. It was immediately obvious the other boy was more comfortable in Snape's quarters now that Mrs. Weasley was present. Last week it took a lot of convincing on Harry's part that he was not going to be expelled for entering Snape's quarters and then Neville still spent most of the time peering around the room and stuttering. At first, Harry questioned why Neville would even agree to do this in the first place because of how much he was afraid of Snape, however if the situation was reversed Harry would do in a heartbeat for any of his friends, showing what good friend Neville was to him.

"Hey Harry," Neville greeted when Mrs. Weasley showed him into the sitting room. He had his school bag slung over his shoulder and his eyes were shifting between Harry, the IV stand, then Harry's exposed port site making Harry the uncomfortable one this time, "Professor McGonagall told me you might not be up to lessons today, so... just let me know if you want to stop."

"I'll be fine Neville. I really don't want to start NEWTs behind," Harry explained; determined not to waste the fact that he managed to get into all the NEWT classes to be an Auror. With his luck, he'd have to repeat them at the same time Snape went back to being the Potions professor and he'd never get back in. This was all assuming he had enough magic at the end of all this, but if he made that assumption then he might as well not bother at all. "Let's just get started."

For NEWT Herbology, Professor Sprout was starting them off with the plant identifications they will be using throughout the year - with emphasis on the poisonous or otherwise dangerous ones - before getting into specific lessons for each individual family. They were making great progress, only needing to stop twice for Harry to have an episode of vomiting; both times Neville gave him the privacy he needed.

"What is a green, spiky, toothsome magical plant with mobile vines that try to grab living prey?" Neville asked once they got back on track after the second time they stopped because Harry was sick.

"Erm..." Harry thought, rubbing the side of his neck in concentration and frustration. He knew they had literally just gone through this one, "Venomous Tentacula?"

"Exactly!" Neville sounded immensely proud of Harry. Neville really was a great tutor and it was good to see him with some self-confidence for a change.

"All set there Mister Potter?" Madam Pomfrey announced when she arrived a moment later through the floo to disconnect Harry's medications. She gave a little jump, startled to see Neville sitting besides Harry on the sofa with textbooks, parchment, and small models of various venomous plants sitting out in front of them. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had a class at this time."

"Oh it's alright Madam Pomfrey," Harry said awkwardly looking to Neville besides him, "This will just take a minute Neville."

"Sure thing Harry," the other boy stood and walked to the other side of the table to give the medi-witch space to work. He started packing up the notes they had previously completed, all the while watching curiously as the line to Harry's port was removed and flushed, and the morphine was changed.

By the time the medi-witch left, they had less than 20 minutes until lunch.

"So," Neville started nervously, "what is all that stuff Madam Pomfrey was doing?"

"Oh... erm," Harry started feeling his face flush; Neville was the first person, besides Malfoy, who hardly counted, to ask him about it. Of course, he was also the only other person to see him that didn't already know about it all; obviously his professors had been notified of the details on his illness.

"I won't tell anyone.. but you can tell me to sod-off if you want to," Neville was back to sitting next to Harry willing his friend to confide in him.

Harry thought back, yet again, to the conversation he had with Snape about talking to his friends. Last year, when Harry was determined Sirius was in trouble at the Department of Mysteries, Neville didn't think twice about joining them. He was a good friend, and Harry could use as many friends as he could get right now.

"No, it's ok," Harry said, taking a deep breath through the anxious thoughts and stared down at his stocking feet, "it's medicine... Muggle medicine actually. I have something called Leukemia."

"I've never heard of that," his friend said thoughtfully, not accusatory what so ever. "It looks pretty serious."

"Yeah, it's pretty bad. It's a muggle disease that's in my blood and it's rare for a wizard to get, but somehow I got it and if I don't have this medication for the next three years, then... I'll die," something about saying those last two words was so freeing to Harry. Then, once he started talking about what was going on inside his blood and body, it was like a flood gate opened and he was suddenly telling Neville about it all.

He explained about what cancer is and about how the chemotherapy works, he explained why it makes him so sick and why he has no hair. He talked about his port; what it looks like and where it's connected inside his body, going as far as allowing Neville to touch it when the other boy asked if he could. At the last minute he decided not to mention anything about his magical core, instead going with the idea that magic could cause complications with the muggle chemotherapy as the reason he could not use it. But most importantly, he talked about how scared he was; how much he missed classes and his friends; how unsure he felt about his future.

As expected, Neville listened to what Harry was explaining and asked engaging questions along the way. By the end, just like Snape predicted, Harry was feeling better after talking about it all. Lately, most of the times he had talked with his friends, he wanted everyone to ignore the cancer so it wouldn't define him, but in reality it wasn't something he could just ignore. Sometimes it was nice to pretend it wasn't there, but it was equally important to tell someone about what he was going through and how he was really feeling.

The boys were in the middle of talking about how Dean wanted to try out for the Quidditch team this year when Snape walked in, robes billowing in his typical fashion. Neville stopped talking mid sentence and instantly went pale.

"H-hi P- professor Snape," the scared Gryffindor stuttered to his defense professor. Harry was surprised even those words came out based on how much trembling the boy was doing.

"Good afternoon Mister Longbottom," Snape said as casually as possible for the long morning he'd had. "Will you be joining us for lunch?"

"N-n-no, sir!" Neville jumped up at the terrifying offer stuffing the last bits of parchment into his bag and heading towards the door, "I'll see you Thursday Harry!"

Neville abruptly left out of the door barely making eye contact with anyone in the room.

"You didn't have to scare him," Harry accused following Snape into the kitchen where the table was set for lunch for two; Mrs. Weasley having left for lunch in the hospital wing with Ginny.

"In my defense," Snape started portioning out soup for Harry and a turkey sandwich for himself, "I invited him to lunch not to a duel. If you care to know, Mr. Longbottom and I actually had a decent time in class this morning and therefore I did not anticipate a reaction of that sort."

Harry smiled; to Neville, lunch with Snape might as well have been a duel with the man and Harry knew the professor was well aware of that fact. No matter what happened in a single class, there was no way Snape could erase five years of torment that quickly.

Monday night saw his first real class with Snape as a defense teacher and he was probably more nervous than any other potions class he'd ever gone to. Unlike his normal classes, while tutoring he handed in all his essays as he completed them and was beyond amazed to see his defense essay come back with an E - a mark he has never received from this professor before.

"You did exceptionally well on the assignment, especially considering we did not have a formal lesson on it last week," Snape told him as he led them both towards his office and not the sitting room. They had just finished dinner together since the professor was exempt from meals in the Great Hall on his chemotherapy days.

"Thank you sir," Harry said, slowing down as he approached the doorway he swore he'd never enter, even though Snape said he could with him present.

"Are you coming or do you plan to discuss this through the doorway?"

Harry was now a good two meters away from the office and Snape was already to the desk inside impatiently waiting for the Gryffindor to enter.

"We're having our lesson in your office?" Harry asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice. It may not have been the same office, but the last time he was in one of Snape's offices was the pensieve incident and he really didn't want a repeat of that.

"Yes we are," the professor beckoned the Gryffindor with his hand to show Harry his explicit permission to enter, "I think you need a change of scenery."

"Oh," the Gryffindor replied lightly raising his eyebrows in surprise, "in that case..."

Harry walked tentatively into Snape's personal office for the first time and was surprised to see how comfortable it was. Three of the walls had bookcases from the floor to ceiling, with the only bare wall to the left, behind his large desk. There was a door directly in front of him when he entered which Harry naturally assumed went to the professor's potions laboratory - a place he was guaranteed never to see. Unlike his very tidy quarters, Snape's office had piles of parchment and books on the desk and across the shelves in the bookcases almost at random. Harry couldn't help but catch a glimpse at the large stack of muggle and wizarding medical books front and center on the desk as if Snape used those the most - a thought that gave Harry that warm feeling inside of him.

Picking up on Harry's discomfort, Snape pulled out one of the chairs in front of the desk for the Gryffindor as he sat along the front edge, a casual position he would never show to another student.

"I thought we'd simply talk about your essay tonight," Snape said and Harry reached down into his bag to pull out the referenced assignment. It had, by far, the least amount of red ink he'd ever received from Snape. "You wrote a lot about the benefits to using nonverbal spells, but had very little use of textual support."

Harry almost laughed, yet again, that the professor told him the same thing Hermione always started with when critiquing his essays. At this point, he should know to add more references from his textbook and yet he still never remembered to.

Given that this was the most active chemo day Harry had ever had, he was completely exhausted and therefore thrilled when he found out this was the only part of the night's lesson. By the time he made it to bed Monday, he didn't think he would have any trouble sleeping - he was practically falling asleep in Snape's office - but once he got to his room his mind was racing. He'd told Neville everything and even if he trusted his friend not to tell anyone, it still left him feeling vulnerable and reminded the young wizard that at some point he would have to go back to classes and then he wouldn't be able to hide the truth anymore. He couldn't tell if it was the chemo or his nerves, but he ended up in the loo most of the night unaware that he had warded the door with a silencing charm that would be impossible for even Dumbledore to break, nor that small specks of black were coming out each time he vomited.

As if Tuesday's weren't bad enough with Malfoy all day, Harry woke up with a small burning feeling throughout his stomach again. He didn't see Snape that morning as the professor had an early meeting, but he had left a note next to his morning medication saying that he would be back for lunch.

Malfoy arrived right on time and Mrs. Weasley showed him into the sitting room as she had done with Neville yesterday before retreating to the kitchen to give them privacy. Harry wasn't sure where things would pick up after the vision on Friday, but he was honestly too tired and in too much pain to argue with the Slytherin about it all. The blonde would get what's coming to him when Harry felt better by their Thursday defense class. Malfoy took one look at the lines coming from Harry's hand and port, and it quickly became clear they would not be getting much studying done - at least not without an inquisition first - which was stupid because this wasn't the first time Malfoy had seen him having chemo done.

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong with you?" Malfoy asked not even pulling a book from his school bag, acting like he had a right to know Harry's business.

"Very subtle Malfoy," the Gryffindor replied sarcastically. "I told you, it's none of your business."

"Well I happen to disagree," the Slytherin argued, confirming Harry's previous thought on the matter, "what if you're contagious? Like Dragon Pox?"

That was a stretch and the Slytherin knew it, they had been together loads of times and he never cared if Harry was contagious before.

"I'm not and you're just going to have to trust me," the feeling in Harry's stomach was worsening and he was having a difficult time concentrating. "Are we going to study at all?"

"After everything with your little defense group Potter," Malfoy sharply replied to which Harry gave him a dangerous glare, "I doubt you really need the theory we were supposed to go over today. Even Professor Snape was impressed with the level most of your members came in with."

Harry felt pride swell up inside him. The D.A. members were doing that well? So well in fact that Snape mentioned something about it? Maybe if Auror didn't work out, he should consider teaching.

"I told you, I'm sure Hermione has a book you can borrow."

"I asked her for the bloody book-," Harry couldn't hide his surprise even if he were able to concentrate completely, "- and she gave me this huge thing that even I can barely understand. You know all about my..."

Harry turned to see Mrs. Weasley starting to walk in from the kitchen, but Harry waved telling her they were alright. He really wanted Malfoy to finish his thought, but instead the blonde simply sneered at him leaving his sentence hanging.

"I know all about what Malfoy?" Harry prompted. He had told himself that he would let the vision go, but now he really wanted to turn the conversation around any way he could. "All about your other job?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about, so stay out of it," Malfoy's face paled slightly as if he were the one going to be sick. But Harry was never one to step down from a fight, no matter how awful he was physically feeling.

"You'd be surprised," the Gryffindor taunted with a face of disgust that was masking his own physical pain, "I saw everything that night. Your master showed it all to me. That was so nice of him wasn't it?"

He shouldn't have done it, but misery loved company and Harry was feeling the worst since starting Chemotherapy, "I saw you bow down to him on the forest floor and kiss his robes like a common slave. I saw how you cowardly attacked a man who was too tired to move even if he hadn't been tied up... I saw you fail at the Killing Curse - twice. And was that fear in your eyes when you thought Voldemort was going to kill you after the Cruciatus Curse?"

He smirked when Malfoy covered his left forearm at Harry's use of Voldemort's name. Harry intentionally used it knowing it would hurt Malfoy, however now that his angry steam had passed, he was ashamed of himself; that was something someone with less honor than him would do.

"Yeah..." Malfoy replied when Harry was finally done with his diatribe, "and I'm doing all of that for you and your side, so a little appreciation wouldn't be remiss."

Harry gave a grim laugh, "You're doing it to save yourself."

"And apparently that means aligning myself with someone who clearly has no idea what he's doing, can't do magic, and can't even leave the dungeons. What kind of message do you think that sends?" Malfoy's statement and question wasn't said in the anger Harry would have expected and without his normal malice. In the end, Harry knew the blonde was right; that unless he wanted to push Malfoy back to Voldemort, he needed to give in a little bit.

"Fine," Harry started knowing he would regret this the moment it left his mouth, but he was too tired to keep up whatever this was they were doing, "it's called Leukemia. Look it up because that's all I'm going to say. Can we get started now?"

That seemed to satisfy Malfoy because he nodded and pulled out his notes from their class with Snape yesterday. Unfortunately, Harry was having a hard time paying attention to the lesson and only five minutes in Harry grabbed his stomach and doubled over in pain.

No, not now... Why now?!

"Are you sure you're alright Potter? You look like you're about to pass out," Malfoy asked uncharacteristically nervously.

"I'm fine," Harry said, feeling the sweat falling down his forehead. He started taking deep breaths through the pain trying to switch positions on the sofa to ease the burning from inside, "I just need-" but before he could finish that response, he grabbed for the pail and started forcefully vomiting the small breakfast he'd managed to eat that morning.

"Merlin's beard Potter!" The blonde said standing up looking a bit nauseous himself like he'd never actually seen someone sick up in front of him before. "Let me go get Weasley's mum or Professor Snape."

Even if Harry wanted to refuse the help, he didn't hear Malfoy as his blood was whooshing through his ears, his heart rate was increasing, and he started to get light headed.

The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes looking up at the ceiling from the sofa with Mrs. Weasley, Madam Pomfrey, and Healer Smithe over his head. They were talking, but he couldn't make out any of the words; they sounded as if they were underwater.

"What happened?" He mumbled in a whisper, trying to sit up on his elbows, but was too weak to stay that way.

"You passed out," he heard, but it wasn't any of the people above him - it was Malfoy kneeling next to him; the current bane of his existence. "Professor Snape is on his way."

Great, just what I need. More people here.

"I'm-" Harry started but was interrupted when the door slammed open.

"Do not say you are fine," he heard Snape's baritone voice echoing through the quarters as he entered the room. "If you were fine, you would not have passed out." He had a hard emphasis on the last two words as if this was somehow Harry's fault.

"Ok I'm not fine!" Harry yelled grimacing through another wave of burning. He tried to hold back the tears, but to no avail, "I'm so tired of this... I just... I can't do this... I want this to stop. All of it. Whatever it takes, I don't care anymore."

Though no one said a word, Harry knew the conversations that they were all having in their heads. Giving up, the Gryffindor laid back on the sofa gave a small nod and let the healer and medi-witch run diagnostic scans, take blood through his port - which he knew would come back normal - and change out his IV of morphine.

"What happened before he passed out?" To Harry's great embarrassment, Healer Smithe was asking Malfoy who had gotten up to stand by Snape.

"We were working on the lesson, but he was having a hard time focusing-"

"He is right here!" Harry interrupted loudly, trying again to sit up but still unable to. Mrs. Weasley was now kneeling down in front of him holding his hand, rubbing small circles along the top of it.

"Harry, we need you to stay laying down for now," the healer explained in a very serious, no-nonsense way, then turned back to the blonde Slytherin. "Continue please."

It was the first time Harry noticed how pale Malfoy looked, definitely more so than usual. He also had a fearful look upon his face that Harry had never seen on the arrogant boy before. If he didn't know Malfoy as well as he did, Harry would think the Slytherin was worried about him.

"As I was saying... He was having a hard time focusing and then doubled over like he was in pain," Malfoy's face softened a bit at that last part, "and then he started sicking up, which seemed to go on forever, and he passed out. That was when I got Mrs. Weasley."

Harry almost choked at the use of Ron's surname instead of Weasel or some other variant. Of course, given the vision he saw maybe it made more sense now. Whatever the reason, Malfoy hadn't elaborated or missed anything; no he'd gotten it all correct at least as much as Harry could remember.

"Harry, has anything changed at all?" Healer Smithe asked still not back to his bubbly self which Harry would have appreciated at that moment, "Anything different about pain or its location?"

"No sir," Harry said honestly, "still just the normal nausea and pain plus the burning in my stomach at times. That was today's problem."

Harry was vaguely aware of what his healer responded with or his IV getting adjusted when suddenly his eyes were heavy. Again, he was unable to determine if it was because of an increased dose of pain medication or his body just finally giving into the exhaustion.

~~~~SS~~~~

He shouldn't have been surprised when Draco came running into his third year class saying Harry had passed out. Something was bound to happen during a class period, however technically no one had known that Harry was on the school grounds and they definitely didn't know that Severus had anything to do with Harry's absence, which would now circulate around the school by lunchtime.

Last night Harry had, yet again, been oddly silent. Before turning in for the night, Severus had checked in on the young wizard and he was asleep in his bed, but then the professor had not heard any rustling throughout the night. Now he suspected that Harry had once again used a silencing charm unknowingly. His use of magic was starting to become so often Severus questioned how Harry hadn't realized he was doing any of it yet.

Once he'd made it back to his quarters, Madam Pomfrey and Alton were already present and working on trying to figure out if anything additional could be wrong with Harry. Even though this sounded like a bout of his magical core fighting back, something that was happening at least once with each round, they needed to check that it wasn't any other strange side effect or a secondary illness.

"Professor Snape," Draco asked once Alton had finished getting Draco's recounting of the morning and they were both standing out of the way, "Is he dying?"

The question was so blunt and unexpected that his body went cold. He could feel the grief blanket over him again as flashbacks to his son's last couple of days flooded his mind. Dying... No, Harry can't die; Severus wouldn't allow that to happen this time.

Once he was able to get control of his emotions, he could see how upset his young Slytherin was by all of this. At the end of the day, Draco may have been an arrogant bully most of his life, but he was still only a 16 year old teenager and was clearly shaken up by what he had seen.

"No, Draco, we're doing everything we can not to let that happen," Severus finally answered. "You need to Occlude everything you saw today; the Dark Lord cannot know about Mr. Potter's condition if he does not already know."

"You're not going to tell me are you?" Draco folded his arms across his chest defiantly.

"I cannot say a word without Harry's approval," he hoped Draco would leave it at that, but was not so lucky.

"Why won't anyone tell me anything?!" He asked rhetorically, turning around and kicking violently at nothing into the air.

"Drop it Draco. There are more important things for you to focus on," making a split second decision about how to best distract the teenager, he asked, "How is everything within the house?"

If Draco was suspicious of the change in topic, he didn't say a word.

"Crabbe and Goyle think I'm the luckiest bloke in all of Hogwarts; they keep asking to see it everyday," the new spy reported with disgust written all over his face, "honestly, they're a lost cause, what else do they really have after this place besides joining the Death Eaters?

"I think Nott can be persuaded, he's been paying an awful lot of attention to me and I think he's hoping to find a way out. Zambini... I haven't been able to figure out either way yet, but that doesn't surprise me too much about him."

Severus knew this year would bring challenges with his new loyalty known to the Death Eaters and their children, but he had hoped he would have at least a handful of students reach out to him for assistance. Unfortunately, his snakes have been silent thus far, however he also had not been the most available to them either, making Draco's mission more important than ever.

"Keep on trying to get through. The more we can prevent the next generation of Death Eaters, the better for our cause. You have a role to play now, do not forget how to act," the professor cautioned, inwardly hoping he could spare as many students as possible from falling into the same fate he had at their age.

Severus was in the sitting room cleaning up from that morning's events. He had informed the headmaster that he would not be able to finish his classes for the remainder of the day and tomorrow until after lunch. Harry was now asleep in his bedroom making it obvious that the young wizard had been up most of the night; confirming Severus's suspicion about his unknowing use of a silencing charm.

Bending down, he saw the pail that Harry used when vomiting sitting lopsided on the floor in front of the sofa and a muggle pen that appeared to roll underneath the sofa. Reaching down he moved the pail, uprighting it in the process to grab the pen, and that's when he saw it - streaks of black dripping down the sides of the pail. He tentatively bent to get a closer look, but when the first drop of black hit the bottom of the pail, as quickly as he saw it, the bucket self-cleaned and it was gone.

"Severus," the professor startled when he heard his name called from his floo; it was Alton firecalling, likely with Harry's latest test results. Severus immediately went and kneeled in front of his fireplace - his joints protesting giving way to how much older he felt.

"Well? Anything from the blood samples?"

"Unfortunately, everything looks normal on my end. His white cell count is a little lower than it was even this morning before his treatment, but with the next three days off, it should rebound enough to start the next round on Saturday. I'll just make sure to get a good reading before we start," His friend paused thoughtfully then asked, "Can I come through?"

"Of course," Severus stood and backed up to allow Alton room to enter. He summoned the set of tea while he waited and poured both of them a cup.

"Ah, thank you," the healer said once he exited the floo and accepted the offered tea. He took a long sip in a manner that Severus took as a stalling technique. "I'd like to test the level of Harry's magic before we start his next round."

Severus could have guessed this was coming, but thought they would have had more time. If the burning pain was caused from his magical core depletion, it would be beneficial to know where he was in the depletion process and by starting to track his levels now they could estimate how much more he'd have to endure.

"Let's do it Friday," the professor said, "it will give him time to recover from today and he'll be at his strongest before we start this again."

"If it's ok, I'll arrange it with the headmaster to get copies of his previous year's aptitudes for comparison purposes," Alton offered to which Severus nodded. "At this point, I think it's best if it goes quickly. I don't know how much more he can take of days like today."

"He's doing magic," Severus said seemingly out of nowhere. "It's unintentional, non-verbal, wandless magic with a great deal of precision and control."

Severus hadn't planned on telling Alton about it until he had more concrete evidence, but the healer had to know as they started testing and recording his magical levels.

"It seems," Severus continued, "that directly before and after an episode like today, he gets more control and more powerful with this unknown magic. I have no solid proof, but I know it's happening."

Alton took another long sip of his tea before answering, "It's not uncommon for caregivers to see things differently than they really are, especially when things are starting to look down," he paused meeting Severus in his onyx, pleading eyes, "they tend to read more into the smaller details or even think they see things that simply are not there."

Severus peered down at the small tea cup he was holding. He wasn't making this up or seeing what he wanted to see. It was true that he may not be the most objective when it came to Harry anymore, but he knew what he was experiencing was important.

"I think you should consider a mind healer, for the both of you," Alton continued when Severus remained silent.

"Don't go there Alton," Severus warned.

"Hear me out," the healer pleaded, "you mentioned before that Harry talked about how during the worst pain he wanted to give up and from what I heard of him today, he's getting worn down from it all. As we get rid of the cancer and that pain gets better, this pain from his magical core will likely only get worse. Who knows how his magic will react to the next phase or the one after that. He has three years of this Severus, that's a long time to be pushed to your limits. And then what about when his magic is gone? It's a lot to take in for anyone.

"Harry is in a very difficult position and that's for any typical 16-year old facing this battle and we both know that young man is far from typical. Suicide rates are more than four times higher in cancer patients, most of which is within the first year of being diagnosed. While I don't think he's there yet, some people hide it well," the healer hated having this conversation especially when someone he personally knew. "There is only so much you can do Severus and I would hate for you to come this far only to lose him to himself; to something that could have been prevented."

Alton was right, but the same circumstances that made Harry not a typical teenager or a typical cancer patient would also prevent him from getting the help he may need. This was another concern added to his ever growing list of things to figure out.

"Thank you for your honesty," he eventually said, "I'll take it under consideration."

The defense professor found himself back in his personal office late that night. He was once again sifting through the dozens of books on his desk knowing there had to be a connection to everything going on around Harry, but still unclear what that connection could possibly be. The conversation with Harry earlier this week brought about a new line of research - what could the Dark Lord have that is protecting him from the Leukemia, at least for now? Considering the extensive knowledge Severus had in the Dark Arts, he should have been able to identify, relatively quickly, any rituals or dark magic that could have been used, and yet he had nothing.

On a whim, earlier that day he'd gone to check the only other personal library he had access to that might contain some knowledge on the dark arts beyond his own - the Black library at Grimmauld Place. It was there he found the large, black, leather bound book - Secrets of the Darkest Arts By: Owle Bullock - he was reading through tonight in hopes of finding some answers. His stomach clenched tight and his body was filled with dread when he came across a word he had never heard before, Horcrux:

A Horcrux is an object in which a dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul in order to become immortal...

The defense professor's breath hitched as his mind flashed to a conversation from his old reality he'd been part of in Harry's second year. That was the year they discovered he was a Parselmouth; the year of the damn Basilisk - which he'd at least been there with Harry in his old reality instead of the 12-year old battling the thing all alone in this one. However, because he was Harry's guardian, he had been with Harry when Albus explained that he could speak Parseltongue because Voldemort could speak Parseltongue.

"Damnit!"

His brain was working in overdrive putting everything together at an unbelievable pace, even for him. He flung open the door to his office and hurried to the floo to call Albus.

"You need to come through," he said urgently into the fire when he saw Albus sitting at his desk, "right now."

Standing back, he allowed the Headmaster to exit the floo not hiding his confusion. Even at almost midnight, the elder wizard was dressed in bright yellow robes that were almost blinding.

"I take it you've found something Severus?" The Headmaster asked his professor.

"What do you know about Horcruxes?" Severus handed the book he was reading to the headmaster all the while pacing across the room.

Albus's eyes grew with understanding as he read through the passage and came to his own conclusions.

"I had briefly considered the idea that Tom would have created horcruxes, however besides the diary there was no further evidence to support such a claim," Albus met his professor's eyes daring him to continue on his train of thinking.

"You said Harry could speak Parseltongue because the Dark Lord can," Severus casually explained, still pacing.

"I do recall that conversation, however I also believe you were not present during it," Albus challenged.

"In my other reality, I was there. I went down to the chamber with Harry and heard your explanation afterwards."

"What are the implications of such a thing?" Albus asked, taking a seat on the sofa.

"It's unprecedented, but if I were a gambling man I would bet that having a piece of such a dark soul working against Harry's naturally purer one would have an affect on his magical ability to fight off the Leukemia," saying that out loud felt like a piece of the puzzle fitting perfectly in place; he had no proof of any of it and there was nothing they could really do with the information, but it all felt too right to be incorrect.

"As you said, this is unprecedented so that's just as likely as anything else," Albus replied sadly. "If Harry is a Horcrux, I suspect it was unintentionally created?"

"Absolutely. If the Dark Lord knew about, he would not actively be trying to kill Harry; he'd want to protect him instead... Which means this needs to stay between us," Severus said in a dark tone reminding both men that while they may be closer to unlocking one mystery, uncovering the leak within their own circle was becoming more important by the day.