~~~~SS~~~~

Severus was midway through his lecture on Boggarts with his third year class when Hermione came bustling into the classroom. She looked around self-consciously as she walked through the younger students up towards the front where Severus stood. The professor was certain every single student wanted to know what had happened to bring this particular Gryffindor into his classroom. Based on the frightened expression on her face, the professor already knew this would not be good news before she even approached him.

"It's Harry - he passed out again, sir," Hermione said quietly so no one else would be able to overhear. "He's at the hospital wing. I think he's ok now, but he hit his head pretty hard when he fell. Madam Pomfrey asked me to come and get you."

Severus's thoughts were immediately brought to Harry's lack of proper eating, on top of the broken sleep from the previous night. It was too coincidental that he should lose consciousness so close to those two events, and yet he hadn't thought to check in with him. How could he be so thoughtless?

"Class is dismissed," he called out, and a sea of joyful sighs rang through the classroom. Not waiting for it to empty, Severus didn't hesitate when he walked right out of his classroom, the Gryffindor sixth year in tow. Having no idea the condition he would find Harry in, the professor tried to hurry without appearing out of control.

As he approached the hospital wing, he heard the stern voice of Dr. Swanson, asking very pointed questions at either Harry or Madam Pomfrey. Just last week, Albus had gotten the required approvals to connect Meghan Swanson's office and home to the floo network - exclusively to the hospital wing and Severus's quarters - however he hadn't expected the need to utilize it this soon. Knowing Harry's turbulent feelings for his muggle physician, he hurried his stride a little more so he could try to mediate any issues that might arise from her presence.

"Harry, how long have you suffered from panic attacks?" Dr. Swanson was asking when the professor arrived. Also standing protectively near Harry's bed in the back of the busy room was Madam Pomfrey.

"I don't… I mean, I guess," Harry stuttered, obviously uncomfortable with the question bordering on accusation. "What does it matter?"

"He's lived a difficult life," Severus answered, inserting himself into the conversation regardless of whether the doctor wanted him there or not. "Specifically, the last several years have been quite hard on him. I suspect he's always had a level of anxiety and panic attacks, even if he was not aware of them himself."

The heat from Harry's glare could have blinded him, however Severus didn't care at that moment. Harry from his old reality had suffered from anxiety issues and he hadn't seen a classmate murdered, battle the Dark Lord on several occasions, nor see his Godfather killed in front of him. It was basically a guarantee that the teen lying in the bed had, at a minimum, the same issues, and Dr. Swanson needed all the information to treat Harry properly. If nothing else, it sounded as if his fainting was, at least this time, induced by a panic attack and not his lack of eating.

Now that he was fully beside Harry's bed, he was able to get a good look at the situation. Harry was still in his Gryffindor uniform - less the robe - and outside of a swelling bruise and cut on the left side of his forehead, he appeared unharmed. Ignoring the expression he received from Dr. Swanson, Severus lifted Harry's chin to inspect the bruise and laceration, both of which appeared to be clotting well.

"Care to tell me what happened?"

Harry looked passed Severus at his doctor and then replied, "Not really."

"My apologies, that was not supposed to sound like an option," Severus sarcastically said, "Let's try that again, what happened?"

A low growl was emitted from Harry's throat and his nostrils flared in defiance, "I fell."

"Harry," Dr. Swanson stepped up, "based on what your friend explained, you had a panic attack."

"Fine!" The Gryffindor wizard crossed his arms over his chest, "I had a panic attack and passed out. I'm better now, and my head doesn't even hurt. Can I go home?"

Severus glanced over at Madam Pomfrey, and was pleasantly surprised when she picked up on the unasked question. At this point, they knew exactly how the other worked.

"The diagnostic scan showed no concussion," the medi-witch explained, "just a bump on the head and the laceration, both of which look to be healing nicely on their own."

"It's been almost a week since chemo," Harry added. "My platelets are fine, I am fine, I just want to go home."

While Harry's eyes pleaded to go home, nothing about his demeanor showed he was fine, but Severus knew how much the young wizard hated the hospital wing and would not open up to anyone about what happened while sitting here. As long as he was healthy, which according to Madam Pomfrey he was, Severus would allow him to leave. And ultimately, the decision was his to make.

"Yes, Harry, we can go home."

Dr. Swanson lifted her hand before Harry could get up, "I'd like to speak with you, Mr. Snape, before you go."

"You are more than welcome to meet with me down in my quarters after I get Harry settled in, however he needs to be home," Severus suggested, trying to be reasonable as he ultimately had things - probably the same things - to discuss with her as well.

After what ended up being more of a hassle than he expected, Harry was finally back in his room, supposedly working on his homework. Severus went to start some tea to ease into the conversation that would likely be difficult for all parties involved. It took another ten minutes before he was sitting in his armchair with Dr. Swanson and Madam Pomfrey both sitting to his right on the sofa. The muggle doctor appeared to be uncomfortable, as if she hadn't been there several times already to administer Harry's chemotherapy.

"I suggest one of you fill me in on Harry's history. I've had my suspicions that something wasn't quite right when I found out that two of his teachers are his guardian and medical proxy," Dr. Swanson accused. "He's clearly having anxiety and panic attacks which it sounds like this happens often, and I should know why. I can't treat my patient completely if I'm unaware of certain high-level details."

Madam Pomfrey looked over to Severus, "Shall I call the headmaster? He may be the best person to provide that information."

Severus nodded his head, and Poppy obediently stood and left for the Albus's office through the floo. It wasn't that Severus himself couldn't fill the doctor in on Harry's troubled past - he definitely knew more than enough between his memories of the two realities - he just wasn't sure exactly what details Albus would feel comfortable sharing with the muggle doctor who happened to have a magical brother. He would feel more comfortable if the history of the "Boy-Who-Lived" and "The Chosen One" came from the headmaster. In the end, he wasn't even sure if Harry's past had anything to do with the panic attack the teen had this afternoon, so it might all be a moot point, however the last thing he wanted was to appear unhelpful to the doctor; that would open a whole set of inquiries he absolutely did not want started.

"While we wait, I am also getting extremely concerned about Harry's weight loss," the doctor continued in a soft, sympathetic voice. Finally, something he could agree on. "If things don't improve in the very near future, I'm afraid I'm going to have to admit him for some serious intervention."

"He cannot leave the school," Severus said as seriously as he could to emphasize how important that simple fact was. After everything that happened with Alton, there were very few instances Severus could think of that would lead to Harry in a muggle hospital, or even St. Mungo's at this rate. "The headmaster will fill you in on the reasoning, but anything you do needs to be done here at the castle for Harry's safety."

"Again I find that extremely odd and, frankly, concerning," he could see the fight in her eyes that gave away how much she cared for her patients and their safety beyond simply their health concerns. "What's been going on with him, Mr. Snape?"

He cringed again at the title that reminded him too much of his drunk, abusive father.

"Professor," he corrected her. "Please, either address me as Professor Snape, or even Severus is better than Mr. Snape."

The doctor's eyes narrowed as she thought about the words he hadn't said in that request.

"Professor Snape," she amended, "has Harry been eating?"

"Not nearly enough," he regretfully said, "I must admit, I have been distracted with an important project for work and hadn't taken as much notice as I should have, until now."

If it were a professional gesture to do so, Severus would assume the doctor had rolled her eyes at that. Instead, she held her tongue and pulled out a notebook.

"In that case, I need you to start keeping track of what he eats, how much he's eating, and at what times. This is for both meals and snacks," she pointed out where each item should go in the notebook. "Also I would recommend he not eat alone anymore, as I'm assuming he has been otherwise you would have noticed his lack of food by now. Studies show that eating in a social environment can help overcome the lack of appetite we commonly see from chemotherapy. Please do not misunderstand my intention, Professor, it's harder to notice Harry's significant weight loss on the visual cues alone when you see him everyday. That's why it's so important that it's written down, especially if you cannot be physically with him at all mealtimes."

That was a pointed comment directed at him. He'd already committed to Harry not eating alone in their quarters anymore, by either Severus being down here, a set of his friends, or trying to get Harry up to the Great Hall.

While he was considering all of this, she handed him a set of papers, "As there appears to be no physical reason he's not eating, read through these. They have some good tips and tricks on how to help patients who have a lack of appetite during chemotherapy; things like eating more in the morning, smaller meals and more snacks throughout the day, plus there's a list of foods he can eat that will give him the most nutrients for the few times he actually wants to eat.

"I need to emphasize this, Professor: you should take this extremely seriously. If he does not significantly improve, I'll be forced to take more drastic measures. At the rate he's declining, there's not a doubt in my mind that he's going to end up on a feeding tube. I don't care what you think is in his best interest, or what Dr. Smithe had done in the past, I am his physician now, and I will do what needs to be done to ensure he's healthy - wizarding world or not."

Obviously he wanted what was best for Harry and would do anything he needed to do, however her pronounced accusations were going too far. She was pushing her boundaries, and it would have felt so good to tell her exactly that, except Albus came through the floo before he got the chance to do it.

~~~~HP~~~~

The young wizard gave up on his homework before he even started. After the conversation with Snape yesterday, it was clear to him that he wasn't going to stay with his classmates anyway, so what was the point. Instead, he laid on his back in his bed, thinking about what he had learned today, the part about Hermione with Malfoy, simply because he refused to think about the Horcrux and what it meant for himself. So what if Malfoy asked to go with Hermione and his friends to Hogsmeade when he hadn't even known it was a Hogsmeade weekend coming up? And why didn't Hermione tell him about this first? He doubted that the Slytherin asked her this morning, where he could understand that Hermione wouldn't have had time to tell him, so that meant she simply chose not to tell him.

She was probably afraid to say something.

The thought popped up into his head so quickly he barely had time to register it. While physically this phase of chemo had been a big improvement, mentally he could now admit that things had not been going well at all. It was clear to himself that he was struggling, but he didn't know how to turn things around or how to ask for the help he knew he needed. Thinking through the last two or three weeks opened up a chasm deep within him and all of the grief and anger he'd kept bottled up inside came rushing out. He swiped at the edge of his eyes when tears started to fall, but he couldn't - and wouldn't - hide from it anymore.

The Gryffindor sat up suddenly when a knock on his door startled him. Snape's head appeared in the doorway and announced, "It's time for dinner."

Harry nodded, swung his feet over the side of the bed, and placed his head into his hands while he waited for the door to close. But the door didn't close, because Snape hadn't left. Rather, the young wizard felt the bed dip down as the man sat next to him and placed his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"I don't know how to fix this," Harry said with a sniffle through his humiliation.

"You need to talk to someone," Snape's low, baritone voice replied into his ear. "I won't be offended if you don't feel comfortable talking to me, but you do need to talk to someone about what's going on. Perhaps Minerva, Dr. Swanson, or even Madam Pomfrey or Molly Weasley. Honestly, Poppy would be a perfect person to talk to about everything going on. I, myself, had seeked her advice as a young teen."

Harry was comforted hearing Snape had issues like this too, but he just couldn't imagine telling anything like what he was feeling to those people. On the other hand, if Hermione really hadn't confided in him about Malfoy and Hogsmeade because of his gloomy mood, then he needed to do something.

"I'll think about it," he committed to Snape.

"That's a good start, Harry." The professor squeezed his shoulder and stood. "You need to eat now. Come to dinner and we'll discuss what Dr. Swanson had to say when she was here earlier."

There was something about the way Snape said his doctor's name that made Harry smirk. It sounded like Snape didn't like her anymore than Harry did, although he was sure it was for different reasons.

At some point, he'd have to face what was going on around him and it might as well be tonight. So once Snape left his room, leaving the door cracked, probably to hear if Harry was actually getting up and ready, the first thing he did was change out of his school uniform and into jeans and a jumper, so he was more comfortable for wherever this conversation would lead them. The next thing he did was go into the lavatory and splashed some water on his face. It was the first time he'd seen the angry bruise and cut across his head, and he now understood why everyone had been so worried. While it obviously wasn't getting any worse, the bruise was the darkest purple he thought he'd ever seen - including some pretty bad ones Uncle Vernon had given him over the summers at Privet Drive - and it was very sore to the touch. The rest of him was just as alarming. His reflection showed what appeared to be almost a shadow of his old self; his eyes were permanently marked with his exhaustion, and his deathly pallor combined with his sunken cheeks would have him worried if he'd seen it on any of his friends.

When he couldn't delay any longer, Harry slowly walked into the kitchen. Snape was sitting at the table already and Harry was surprised to find his own place setting oddly emptier than he would have expected. It consisted of roughly half the quantity of food that would normally have been served, and all of it was things he usually ate during chemotherapy: scrambled eggs, sliced avocado, and a smoothie.

"Tell me what happened today," Snape said once Harry had taken the first bite of his eggs. No matter how hard he tried, he just didn't feel like eating.

"Erm," the Gryffindor started. How could he tell Snape what caused him to pass out without talking about the Horcrux and the notebook he'd read? "Hermione told me that… Malfoy-asked-to-go-to Hogsmeade-with-her."

Harry had said it so quickly, he wasn't sure Snape even heard him. Based on the man's neutral face, it was hard to tell if he had and was simply that good at Occlumency, or he'd missed it completely. Knowing the former spy though, Harry decided it was probably the former.

"Let me make sure I understand," Snape slowly said, and in a way that didn't sound nearly as condescending as he could have made it, "the fact that your friend will be attending Hogsmeade on Saturday with Draco Malfoy caused you to have a panic attack?"

When he put it like that, it sounded flat out ridiculous, but he couldn't tell Snape about the Horcrux. He didn't even want to think about the bloody thing.

"Kind of, yeah," he answered, sheepishly, "It took me by surprise, is all."

"Well, the good news is that is something not likely to happen again," he pointed to Harry's plate and the young wizard continued to eat, "Draco can only ask your friend out for the first time once, so now that is behind you."

Harry burst out laughing for reasons he had a hard time defining. It was something about the way Snape said it so seriously that just had him gasping for breath, completely unable to stop his laughter. A quick glance up at Snape showed even the professor had cracked a smile at how ridiculous he'd sounded.

Once Harry settled down and he was feeling somewhat lighter, Snape continued, "Until you feel comfortable eating in the Great Hall, I will be taking my meals down here with you. Your doctor has requested we fill out this journal of what exactly you're consuming throughout the day, in addition to when and how much."

Harry picked up the notebook and examined it. The pages looked more like a diary where he needed to fill in everything from the time he ate, to what he ate, and how much he'd actually consumed - the example line showed the fictitious person ate four almonds at 10:15 am on 1/11/96.

"Seems a bit excessive, don't you think?" he asked, pushing the notebook back across the table to Snape.

"Not at all. This is serious, Harry," the professor said in a voice so different from the one he'd just been using to discuss Hermione and Draco's date. "If this does not improve, Dr. Swanson was discussing the probability of admitting you to the hospital where she works. She has also not so nicely informed me that you may need to have a feeding tube inserted should your weight continue to decline."

That was absolutely terrifying. Like things weren't hard enough. He shivered at the thought - and visual - of it all.

"I'll do better," Harry committed, and he really meant it this time. "I'll really try harder about eating, even if I don't feel hungry."

"That's another good start," Snape continued handing him another set of papers, "Your doctor has also confirmed that there is nothing physically impeding your ability to eat and so she's given me, which I've duplicated for you, ways to help increase your appetite, or at least consume more however you can. Small things - eating at a different time of day, having smaller but more frequent meals - you can do immediately. Other things, such as eating with plastic utensils to prevent any overly metallic taste, will need to wait until I can get to a muggle store this weekend.

"Most of all though, I think speaking to someone about your troubled thoughts will have the most impact. Please consider those I've mentioned earlier, or if there is anyone else you would feel comfortable speaking to, I will arrange it. I fear your lack of appetite, while very common from chemotherapy, may also be a sign of depression."

Harry could feel himself immediately begin to flush. No, he didn't think he was depressed, but he really couldn't say things were going well for him, either. He'd had a lot on his mind lately and he could admit that most of the time, it was not happy thoughts.

"I do have a metallic taste when I eat," he mumbled, wishing he could ignore the last part, yet knowing he shouldn't. He surprised Snape, and himself really, when he added, "I want to talk to you. I just don't know how."

"Then we'll figure it out together," Snape explained, gesturing again to Harry's plate, and the young wizard was already getting frustrated about it. "We'll start with putting time aside each week to work on Occlumency, which I believe will also help tremendously, as well as discuss how you're feeling. With chemotherapy on Sunday, we'll do it Tuesday for next week."

"O-ok," Harry replied, trying to ignore the comment about chemotherapy. This one was going to be an IT followed by an IV, and he really didn't want to think of it all yet. "Thank you, Severus."

Silence fell between them as Harry focused on his food, taking small bites until he finished most of his meal. With that small accomplishment, he bit his lower lip and watched Snape, who had long finished his own dinner.

"About Hogsmeade on Saturday," The Gryffindor confidently started, "can I go?"

Putting down his reading - a Potion's Journal that looked like Snape was reading for enjoyment, rather than for education - he then raised one eyebrow. "Given what you learned today about Miss. Granger and Mr. Malfoy, do you still want to go?"

Harry gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, well now I feel like I have to go. So can I?"

"Yes," the former spy answered, "you may go on Saturday. It's the day before chemotherapy and your blood counts will be at their highest, so as long as you dress appropriately, I don't see any issues."

At least now, Harry had something to look forward to in place of just school and chemotherapy. Watching Snape across from him - who had gone back to reading as if they hadn't recently finished having a serious conversation - a weight inside of him lifted, and he just knew things would start to get better.

Saturday 23, November 1996

When Harry woke up Saturday morning, he questioned if the white crystal snow that he saw blanketing the grass through his enchanted window was the first snowfall of the year. It seemed a little late, so it was more than possible that he simply missed the first one of that year by either being stuck inside, or because of his melancholic mood.

In the past, the snow was always a reminder of the things the young wizard had been missing in his life; things like warm shoes, a winter coat, and celebrating Christmas with his family. This year, as he watched out the window and caught the sight of the crystal flakes falling from the sky, he was filled with joy and hope. Snape and McGonagall - though he had the suspicion it was mostly Snape - had replaced his completely worn out trainers with new ones plus added a set of winter boots, this year he had a perfectly sized winter coat that was sure to keep him warm, and even if he already knew he'd have chemo on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, he also knew he'd be spending it here with Snape, and hopefully Dudley and his friends. All of those emotions were floating down and away from him with each snowflake that coated the grassy lawn out by the black lake.

Today was the first Hogsmeade visit of the year and the young wizard had a whole range of thoughts running through him, all of which were urging him to cancel. Instead of giving into the negativity like he probably would in the past week, Harry used his nervous energy to get up and ready for the day, choosing a pair of muggle blue jeans with a green jumper over a white long-sleeved shirt to stay warm under his winter coat, Gryffindor hat, scarf, and gloves.

To prove a point to Snape, he ate until over half of his scrambled eggs and toast was gone before he went back to put his boots and winter gear on.

"Do not feel like you need to spend the whole day there," Snape explained while he tucked the ends of Harry's scarf into his coat. The Gryffindor typically wore his scarf a little looser around his neck, however he couldn't deny the extra warmth he now felt doing it this way. "You can come back to the castle at any time."

"I know, Severus," Harry didn't want to linger and feel anymore like a child than he already did. He was sixteen, not six. "The only thing I know for sure is we're meeting at the Three Broomsticks-" he held his hand up from getting interrupted, "- I know, I'll keep track of whatever I eat."

With chemotherapy tomorrow and Dr. Swanson coming back, Harry had really tried his hardest to eat and fill out the food diary as she'd requested. He wasn't perfect, and it was significantly harder to eat when he legitimately wasn't hungry, but he could at least say he was doing better this time. If she ended up wanting him to use a feeding tube, nothing he said was going to change her mind, but there was no way he would be going to some muggle hospital where almost any Death Eater could get to him. That was where he drew the line and he had a feeling Snape would agree.

"I have to go before they leave without me," the Gryffindor called out from the front door before the professor could say another word, "Bye Severus, enjoy the quiet."

"So, where's Lavender? You guys have pretty much been inseparable since you started dating," Harry asked with a small chuckle, as the two wizards, plus Hermione and Dudley, walked around Zonkos checking out the Stink Pellets, Dung Bombs, and Hiccough Sweets. Ron had apparently wanted to show off the wizarding joke shop to Dudley to help give the muggle some other frame of reference - or more accurately, something more neutral than Dudley's previous experiences - to what Fred and George have at their shop in Diagon Alley. Harry felt a stab of jealousy inside to think that his best friend and cousin had made plans of what to see today without him. That used to be him, Ron, and Hermione, before his diagnosis. He noticed more often that his life was now split into things that happened before his diagnosis or things that happened after.

"Nah, she doesn't really like this kind of stuff," Ron complained. Harry kind of thought that was a big miss in their relationship, since Ron absolutely loved the joke shops, but didn't want to say anything; who was he to judge when he was completely single. "So I thought it'd just be best if she just met us at the Three Broomsticks for butterbeers afterwards."

It was their plan to meet up with Lavender and Malfoy later in the afternoon at the Three Broomsticks, except it was not one that Harry had any say in making. After his fainting episode, combined with the new food diary, Snape had hardly left him alone, even with his friends, so he'd only found out what they would be doing on the walk down to the wizarding village about an hour ago - which he took note that he should have remembered.

"That's also when we're meeting Malfoy," Ron emphasized the Slytherin's name in clear distaste; making it obvious he was looking to start a fight. "How can you trust that snake, 'Mione?! He's called you a..."

"Here we go again," Dudley shrugged, then turned to Harry and added, "they've been at it for days. Since Malfoy asked her actually."

"You know, I didn't say anything about your abhorrent choice of a girlfriend," Hermione retorted back as Harry led the group out of Zonkos empty handed. The last place they needed to have this conversation was in an enclosed space.

"Oh, so he's your boyfriend now?!"

"I didn't say that and you know it!" Hermione yelled back at their friend.

On second thought, Harry had enough of the bickering between his two friends. It was getting ridiculously petty and not at all what he wanted to hear during his time out of the castle with them. So in an effort to guide the conversation away from Malfoy, he pulled the group into a small alcove next to Honeydukes.

"I need to tell you guys something," Harry quietly said, drawing the attention onto him and away from any dating relationships.

Until that exact moment, Harry hadn't been entirely sure when or how he was going to tell them all what Snape told him the other day about his magic and the block, which he now knew was actually a piece of Voldemort's soul tied to his own. His three friends all listened intently as he went through the same explanation that Snape had told him, on how magical cores are supposed to work by organizing the raw chaotic magic, and the theory that his core was split by the same block that squibs are said to have, allowing him access to only some of his magic. He ended with the option he had to protect the block by feeding the chemotherapy his current magic during the next phase, and how that would leave him needing to relearn all his magical spells because he'd have a completely raw, untrained core. Although he didn't say anything about the Horcrux or how this block was the cause of his magic's inability to prevent the Leukemia, it didn't take long for Hermione to put the pieces together on her own.

"Harry," she said, and he could see the answers, and possibly the start of tears, in her eyes, "does this mean-"

"Yes, Hermione," Harry interrupted the Gryffindor, and confirmed what she already knew, "what you found the other day is the block."

"But Harry," she continued, horrified, "the only way to release the soul is to-"

"What are you two bloody talking about?" Ron interrupted, frustrating Harry because he hadn't even thought about finding out how to release the soul piece, all he knew was that Voldemort couldn't die until that was done.

Giving Harry a sympathetic expression - one that Harry hated seeing on anyone, especially his friends - the witch eventually said, appearing as if the words physically hurt her, "Remember the word, Horcrux, that Harry asked me about? Well, apparently Harry heard Professor Snape mentioning that it had something to do with getting Leukemia. I finally found it in… a book… the other day, and it's a container where a dark witch or wizard has secured a portion of his or her soul, in an effort to become immortal."

Harry shuffled his feet through the snow, feeling the substance crunch under his new boots. As a trio, they had discovered so many things about Harry, and specifically his battle with Voldemort, throughout the years, yet somehow this felt much more personal. To know that Harry was very likely carrying a piece of the dark wizard's soul would be distressing to anyone.

"But Harry," Dudley was struggling to understand, although based on both boys' faces they probably knew the answer already, "you just said Professor Snape called it a block that stopped your magic from curing your cancer. Are you saying he thinks this Horcrux caused it? It's the block?"

Harry shivered and wrapped his coat tighter around himself, unsure if it was from the conversation or the weather.

"Not quite, Dudley," Hermione started, until Harry stopped her by raising his hand while simultaneously shaking his head.

"I am the Horcrux," saying the words that have been circling his head for days released another boulder from his chest, "I have a piece of-"

"There you are!"

All four teenagers jumped at the sound of Lavender Brown's squeaky voice penetrating the thick dour atmosphere around them.

"I thought we were meeting at the Three Broomsticks?" The other witch curled herself against Ron's side. "I was waiting there all by my lonesome self until Draco Malfoy showed up claiming to be meeting us there too."

Hermione immediately blushed again, and Harry could tell she didn't want to say anything about having invited the Slytherin along with them.

"I told him he could hang out with us," Harry said, covering for his friend. At this point, he really did owe her for all the help she'd given him throughout the years. Remembering something he'd overheard Snape mentioning, he hoped it was true enough to satisfy Lavender's curiosity. "I guess Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott have been banned for the first couple of visits for messing with me. I figured I should offer, and honestly I didn't really expect him to take me up on it."

Dudley gave an almost imperceptible nod, though Ron appeared to be fuming mad inside.

"The git is probably using you, Harry, to get information for the Death Eaters," the red head accused. "Why else would he suddenly want to hang out with you?"

"If you and Lavender don't feel comfortable," Harry calmly explained, watching Hermione's expression fall at the harsh words, "I'll understand if you guys want to go your own way. Maybe we can get together tonight instead and I'll fill you in on what you missed?"

"No, Harry," Ron mumbled, "let's just go."

The five teens walked out from their little alcove and Harry breathed a sigh of relief at having diffused the potential argument between Ron and Hermione. Realistically, this wasn't something that could keep happening between them. It seemed that most of the time lately was spent dancing around how not to insult each other, and Harry was getting tired of it all; he just wanted his friends back. He didn't necessarily have the energy anymore to complain about who was dating whom, though it would be nice to feel at least a little normal in that regard.

Malfoy was sitting alone at a table for six along the back corner - probably chosen specifically to give the group some privacy - when the group entered the Three Broomsticks.

"Hey Malfoy," Harry said, choosing to sit in the seat to the Slytherin's right and the other's filled in around the circle table. Ron promptly sat on Harry's other side, turning bright red as Malfoy stood to pull the chair for Hermione to sit on his left. The red-headed Gryffindor stumbled as he stood up again to pull out the chair next to him for Lavender. Lastly, Dudley picked the final seat available, sandwiched between Hermione and Lavender before an awkward silence fell over the entire table.

When Hermione offered to go grab the round of drinks, Malfoy immediately went to assist her, much to Ron's chagrin. Harry almost laughed at the reversal of the roles; Ron now clearly jealous of Hermione's suitor though neither teen realized how obvious he was being. It wasn't until the second round of drinks - pumpkin juice for Harry as Malfoy had the forethought to ask if the small alcohol content would react with any of his medications, and the Gryffindor wasn't sure - and a couple orders of chips and crisps that the table started to relax.

The odd group talked about their latest exams, the Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff Quidditch game coming up in December - which Harry would not be attending because he had chemotherapy that day - and finally their holiday plans, including the Christmas party being thrown by Professor Slughorn where only Harry and Hermione had been invited to, though Harry absolutely did not want to attend something as pretentious as the party was bound to be. Not to mention he had no idea who he would go with, and therefore he was determined to get out of it anyway he could.

"Well," Lavender dramatically said, placing her hands across Ron's shoulders and giving a fake pout that soured Harry's stomach, "my family goes on holiday in France for Christmas every year. I'm trying to convince them to let me stay here with my Won-Won this year, but it's not working."

"Maybe Won-Won should go with you, instead?" Malfoy suggested, stifling a laugh.

"Oh!" The bubbly Gryffindor jumped up and down in her seat, clapping her hands exuberantly. "I bet my mum would love that!"

"Thanks, Malfoy," Ron narrowed his eyes across the table.

"Hate to be bearer of bad news, Ron," Harry finally spoke up, "but I doubt your mum will allow that."

"Seriously?" The only Slytherin said, astonished, "I'd assume with that many kids, they'd be looking for any reason for one to leave. I'd think you could get away with almost anything at this point."

At that comment, Hermione hit Malfoy across his arm saying, "Draco!" at the same time. It was small, but firm, and definitely done in a way that Harry took as her flirting with the Slytherin. Harry shook his head to rid that image away. This was definitely not the conversation he wanted to be a part of, especially given his own misgivings with his own "family"; one of whom was sitting across from him.

"As if being an only child made your life oh-so-difficult, did it, Malfoy?" Ron spat back to the blonde, practically yelling it in the process. Luckily, it was always noisy in the pub and no one around them seemed to notice, "We all know you got whatever the bloody hell you wanted, so don't even pretend it was any different!"

"You're right about one thing," Malfoy had lost some of the fire in his taunting, "my parents didn't give a damn what I did, but for very different reasons."

Ron rolled his eyes and Harry knew that if this was going to be their "group" going forward, it was never going to work. Ron and Malfoy were too different to be amicable towards each other. Something would have to change, otherwise his friends would be torn apart.

"What about you, Hermione?" Malfoy asked as if him and Ron hadn't just had a row over their families. "Do you have any Christmas traditions? You normally stay here don't you?"

Hermione couldn't hide her surprise by the sudden change of direction or that the blonde had paid enough attention over the years to know that she usually stayed at the castle.

"When I was younger, we used to visit family in London on Christmas Eve, and then come home and have cookies and milk before bed," the bushy-haired witch explained to the group around her, "and Christmas day was spent in my pyjamas all day or playing in the snow. I loved having snowball fights with me and my mum against my dad. I think he used to let us win though because I was completely awful at it really."

Harry's stomach dropped as she explained this all. After their first year, she'd given up her perfect family Christmas and stayed at the castle with Harry. Well, besides last Christmas when they all went to Grimmauld place after Mr. Weasley was attacked.

How was that really less than a year ago?

It had been the last time Harry had seen Sirius alive. The irony wasn't lost on him that it was when his Godfather had given him the two way mirror right before he left to go back to school because the man was afraid of what Snape would do to him during their Occlumency sessions. Of course, Sirius had been right at the time, but Harry didn't want to make any more trouble. If only he'd opened that package, where would he be now if he had a way to contact and make sure Sirius was alright that night.

"Aren't you and Dudley the same age?" Harry was brought out of his negative thinking by Lavender's high-pitched, curious question. "You're practically twins, but cousins. Bet that was interesting growing up."

Giving a quick glance around the table, Harry saw both Ron and Hermione immediately look down at their hands - Hermione's in her lap and Ron's folded on the top of the table - neither speaking up to the limited knowledge they had about their friend's childhood growing up with his muggle relatives. Harry resisted the urge to succumb to the heavy stone that was now sitting atop his chest from the question, and instead made eye contact with Dudley. His cousin's blue eyes were filled with a deep regret that Harry hoped was for the life they both wished they could have had.

"Yeah," Harry answered after the uncomfortable seconds ticked on, "we're only about a month apart in age, but didn't start getting on until recently. Took a bit for us to grow up, I guess."

It was the best he could do and Harry could tell Dudley was already feeling as uncomfortable as he was with the conversation that revolved around family holiday traditions that he didn't want it to drag on. It would be his cousin's first Christmas without his parents, and Harry could not let that go unnoticed, so he decided to take some control over the direction of the conversation.

"You should stay at the castle for Christmas, Dudley," Harry said across the table, "I'll obviously be staying again this year and you're more than welcome to spend it with me and Severus. Unless of course, you want to visit with Aunt Marge. I know you guys used to be close."

It was Dudley's turn to flush. It seemed each member of their unofficial group had gotten their chance to be embarrassed over one thing or another that afternoon. Harry's was when both Hermione and Malfoy reminded him that he needed to at least nibble - Hermione's word - on the chips or crisps.

"Well, I am staying here actually," Dudley proudly replied. "Professor Dumbledore offered me an official part-time position helping teach muggle studies. I guess you can say it's kind of like a paid internship. I'll be working under Professor Burbage learning how to teach magical students about living among muggles. I'm even going to get my own official set of quarters."

"That's great, Dudley!" And Harry found himself actually meaning it. Although he'd been having clashing feelings about his cousin living in his world, ultimately he knew the other teen needed something to keep him going, plus this would guarantee he stayed as safe as possible from Voldemort for at least the next six years while the megalomaniac continued to gain power during Harry's potential break from magic. Pushing those negative thoughts from his mind, Harry continued, "You're going to love the castle during the Christmas holiday. It's so empty and quiet."

That kick started a conversation of all things that had been done during the holidays when the castle was practically empty. Harry, Ron, and Hermione started laughing, but refused to say a word about their Christmas adventure using Polyjuice potion during Christmas of their second year, choosing instead to focus on what Malfoy and Lavender had to add to the conversation.

Harry spent the rest of his time at the Three Broomsticks simply observing the dynamic of their group. No matter which way he tried to look at it, him and Dudley were the fifth and sixth wheel to this unofficial double date. On the one side of him, there was Ron and Lavender acting more like they were in some sappy romance movie and could barely keep their hands off one another. Dudley, who was sitting on the other side of the couple from Harry, kept giving his cousin a look that bordered on disgusted and amused. On his other side, and quite the opposite yet equally uncomfortable to watch, was Malfoy's overly formal attempt at flirting with Hermione, including going as far as asking about what her parents did - then trying his hardest not to make any comments about muggle dentistry - and her career plans after Hogwarts. Harry was most surprised to hear Malfoy say that he wanted to go into a career in healing. While the Gryffindor could have made the assumption based on his new placement in the hospital wing, he didn't expect the blonde to announce something like that to the table of Gryffindors. Overall, everyone appeared to be having a good time and while Harry had some good laughs, deep down he knew his heart wasn't fully there.

"I think I'm going to head back, guys," Harry said, interrupting Malfoy's vivid description of the Manor he grew up in. No one else at the table would know that Voldemort was living in that very same home, giving absolutely no context to the Slytherin's face of pure disgust.

"You feeling alright, mate?" Ron asked with a small giggle over something Harry couldn't see under the table, but it caused the red head to flush the same color as his hair.

"Yeah," Harry lied. He wasn't about to tell them all how uncomfortable he was feeling at that moment. Instead, he simply stood to leave, "I'll see you guys later."

Maybe it had been a bad idea in the first place; hoping that surrounding himself with his friends and their "normal" activities would help him forget just how abnormal he was lately. Perhaps Snape was right, and talking to someone who was not one of his friends would help clear the abandonment and guilt from his mind. It wasn't even like they were doing anything to make him feel less included; it was just a feeling that was always there with him.

He was trudging through the snow back towards the castle, paying zero attention to the people around him, and lost in his own thoughts. He'd wanted to finish his Christmas shopping just in case he wasn't able to make it out for next Hogsmeade weekend, which wasn't going to happen now. He had come to the realization that he would need to owl order the rest, when a hand was placed on his shoulder, and pulled him around.

"What the hell?" The Gryffindor called out while brandishing his Holly wand.

Malfoy was standing in front of him with his hands held up in the air showing he meant no harm. In his left hand held Harry's red and gold Gryffindor scarf. He'd taken it off inside the pub, and must have forgotten it when he'd left so abruptly. Though now that Harry thought about it, he didn't remember seeing the scarf with his other winter gear while he had put everything on to leave.

"Woah, Potter," the other teen called out. "Just wanted to bring you this, thought you'd get cold on the walk back without it."

Harry grabbed the scarf that was offered to him and tightly wrapped it around his thin neck, tucking the ends into his coat with a small smile. Now that it was back in place, preventing the cold from seeping down the front of his coat, he questioned how he didn't notice its absence.

"Thanks," Harry replied, "I've had a hard time remembering small stuff lately."

I shouldn't have told him that.

"Mind if I walk with you?" Malfoy asked, motioning to the direction Harry had been headed, back to the castle

"What about Hermione?" Harry gave a skeptical expression to the Slytherin.

"She's gotten pulled away with Lavender to look at dresses for Slughorn's party."

The Gryffindor gave a small chuckle; he was sure Hermione was going to absolutely hate that. Since he couldn't find much other reason to tell Malfoy to sod-off, he simply nodded and both boys started walking back to the castle.

"So what's going on with you and Hermione?" Harry eventually asked.

"Nothing," Malfoy said, so quickly it was obviously a lie.

"It's none of my business really," at this point Harry stopped and faced his former nemesis, "but seriously, I don't buy how you can go from calling her… that name, to wanting to go out on a date with her, even if it's surrounded by her friends."

Something about how he'd said it brought him back to the conversation he had with Snape and the professor's relationship - or lack thereof - with Harry's mum after he used that name. As Sirius had once told him, things aren't always black and white, good or evil, magical or muggle, and it was something he found himself pondering often lately.

"Things change, Potter," the blonde replied, "you of all people should know how that happens."

He was about to counter that argument - that you don't just go from hating someone to whatever he was thinking about Hermione - but he stopped himself just in time. Wasn't that pretty much what had happened with him and Snape? He'd gone from hating the man almost more than Voldemort, or at a bare minimum a very close second, to thinking of the man as a father figure? There were extenuating circumstances between him and Snape, but Harry didn't know that something similar didn't occur between Malfoy and Hermione.

"Fine," Harry conceded, "but if you do a single thing to hurt her, I don't care if I have to use every last bit of my magic, you will regret it."

"Not that I needed your permission, Potter, but the message is loud and…"

Malfoy trailed off as he half ducked behind Harry's thin body. If he expected to be hidden, the blonde was going to be greatly disappointed. Following the path where Malfoy's eyes led, Harry saw a lanky man with balding brown hair walking in the opposite direction of the two teenage wizards. Harry had no idea why this particular wizard - Harry naturally assumed he was a wizard, being that Hogsmeade was a magical village - held the Slytherin's attention so much, but it was obvious that Malfoy did not expect to see him there.

"Earth to Malfoy," Harry called out, shaking the blonde's shoulder. "Who is that?"

"It's… Matthew..." Malfoy said breathlessly and confused, as if seeing this man walking down Hogsmeade was the strangest occurrence to ever happen. He then pulled Harry by the wrist and started creeping in the direction of the unknown wizard. "Come with me. Do you have your invisibility cloak?"

"How do you-"

"Not now, Potter," Malfoy shushed him, infuriating Harry in the process. "Do you have it or not?"

"I don't really make it a habit of carrying it with me at all times," Harry sarcastically answered, "I wasn't really planning on following some dodgy wizard today."

"Stay quiet then," the Slytherin replied, ignoring Harry's attitude that had gone with the response. "And stay behind me."

"Or I can just go back-"

"I said to be quiet," Malfoy reiterated, while both boys continued following the other wizard. "I don't believe in coincidences and this is one big bloody coincidence to see him here now."

Harry was beyond confused and thought the blonde was starting to sound too much like Snape, or even Moody, for his own good. He was about to tell the teen exactly that, when the Matthew-bloke stopped at the alleyway between Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop and Mister Enurchus' Ancient Apothecary, peered around, then walked into the dark gap. Obviously the man was up to something and if Malfoy wanted to know, then so did Harry. The two students approached the alleyway slowly, trying to soften the crunching of the snow beneath their boots as they approached the space between the two stone buildings; Harry's heart was beating so ferociously, he thought for sure it was loud enough to give away their location.

What if it's a trap?

The thought bounced into Harry's mind and stuck there as if placed with a permanent sticking charm. What if it was a trap, and Malfoy was working with whoever Matthew was, to get him away from his friends and deliver him directly to Voldemort. The Gryffindor's thoughts went back to his scarf that had been missing from the table when he'd collected his things to leave. Had Malfoy taken it intentionally to set him up? Harry had only barely turned to leave, when he heard the long drawl of the last person he expected to hear anywhere outside of Azkaban, least of all so close to the castle.

"It's completely necessary otherwise I would not be here, you fool!"

Both boys' eyes met - emerald ones filled with rage and grey ones filled with fear - before they peeked over the side of the Apothecary building. In front of them stood the wizard that Malfoy referred to as "Matthew" with his back towards them, talking to none other than Lucius Malfoy - who was definitely not wasting away in Azkaban.