~~~~AU SS~~~~

"If today goes well, does that mean I won't have to keep taking the potions?" His sixteen year old son asked as they sat across from each other at the small kitchen table. They were having a quick lunch in their quarters before making their way to St. Mungo's for his scheduled February check up, as they've done every two months since August. Neither of them would complain though, as it was definitely an improvement from their biweekly visits between his diagnosis in May and the check up in August.

"It's unlikely," Severus replied. He wasn't trying to be negative, but practical. The last thing he wanted was to get Harry's, or his own, hopes up. "We'll follow whatever Healer Walker's suggestions are."

Harry took his plate to the sink and started cleaning it, using the newest spell he'd taught him in preparation for when he was living on his own someday. The professor watched his son working on the task that was so normal, he occasionally forgot about the cancer they were actively fighting to rid him of. Once the dish was cleaned, Harry turned and lifted himself so he was sitting on top of the counter.

"I bet you'd be happy not to have to spend so much time every week on the potions?" The young wizard casually asked.

"I don't mind it," he lied again. In truth, it was tedious work that required his full attention during the entire brewing process. Normally, he would relish in the focused work and his quiet laboratory, however knowing that a single mistake would affect Harry's health was sometimes frightening. "And that's not the point. You aren't simply going to stop the potions because it's time consuming to produce them. You will stop them when you no longer need them."

Severus stood, bringing his own dishes to the sink, and then gently nudged Harry's back until he jumped off the counter top.

"Go get ready," he told the Gryffindor, "I'm leaving in five minutes and due to the simple fact that you cannot apparate yet, you best be with me."

The professor went to his office to collect all the files he kept on Harry's test results from each visit, his previous and current potions regimens, and various notes on Leukemia in general. It was only a month ago he'd decided that once the Leukemia was in remission - and Harry was healthy again - he was going to start doing professional research into cancer in the wizarding community. Throughout his journey into the study of Harry's cancer, Severus believed that it might not be as uncommon as they'd been told for magical people to develop cancer, especially in young children before their magic had started to develop. He wanted to help expand the diagnostic process in the wizarding world to educate on this muggle disease as well as help make improvements to the treatment plan. It wouldn't help Harry's current condition, but if he could spare one father from living through the uncertainty he has daily, it would be time well spent.

It was a combination of luck and his own persistence that Harry had even been tested using muggle methods the day he'd been brought to St. Mungo's for the bruising and nosebleeds, back in May. When all the diagnostic scans showed nothing out of the ordinary, it was the attending healer that day, Chelsea Walker, who suggested the muggle blood tests. She knew a family near Wiltshire, where she grew up, that had a young child with the same symptoms and it ended up being the same cancer. He later found out that it was one of the reasons why she decided to specialize in muggle diseases wizards sometimes saw when she became a healer.

So far, the regimen they had Harry on since that bad check up in October, was the best combination, for which Severus was grateful. After a successful visit in December, if things today went just as well, he knew there was a small chance Harry could stop at least one of the eight potions he was taking. Of course, he didn't dare tell that to Harry.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Healer Walker said, as she entered the room holding his latest biopsy results. The air around her was positive, allowing Severus to breathe a bit easier. "I'm very pleased with the results from today's tests."

Harry's face immediately brightened at the news. For once, things continued to be on their side.

"So can I stop the potions?" The Gryffindor asked hopefully.

"Not yet," the healer replied, sitting in the chair across from the father and son and pulled out several pieces of parchment, "but I do think it's time to discuss what's coming up."

She leaned over and handed Severus and Harry two sets of parchment. He looked over the first, which was a schedule for his next two months on the potions. The professor wasn't surprised to see that the quantity and frequency of them was not going to change before his April appointment. The second piece of parchment had what appeared to be revised instructions for the potion Harry had been taking consistently since he started his treatments in early June.

"As you'll see," the healer drew his attention back to the first page, "there will be no changes to the regimen at this time. You'll still take eight potions a day with the same split between the morning and evening.

"Now, if things keep progressing as they have been, we expect you to be cancer free by the next visit. If that happens, you'll drop down to only two potions that you'll continue to take for the following eighteen months. We'll also drop your visits down to quarterly instead of bimonthly."

The look of gratitude Harry gave him made all of those sleepless nights brewing his potions worthwhile. He'd continue to do whatever was necessary to ensure his son stayed healthy, but it was refreshing to hear that there was a light at the end of their proverbial tunnel. There would come a time when both of them could put these days behind them and truly move on with their lives, even if that meant joining the Aurors against Severus's wishes.

"There is one, or rather two, small changes you'll see," she motioned to the other parchment. "There's been some recent research out of the East showing great progress with adding leaves of Euphorbia formosan and flower petals from Vernonia amygdalina. I've given you the latest procedure for it."

During his own studies of Leukemia in the wizarding world, he too had come across the study of these two particular plants having a significant impact on the blood cells for Leukemia patients. In fact, in certain cultures, they had started adding these as supplements to the muggle chemotherapy, though the results from those were less potent than when taken as a potion. Overall Severus was happy that the healer and Potion's Masters at St. Mungo's had seen this research, otherwise he would have suggested it to them.

The professor looked over the list and the steps for the potion adjustments. It was simple enough to add and wouldn't take much more time or effort than he was already putting into the potion. He would need to start the process by adding five whole leaves of Euphorbia formosan to the cold cauldron right at the beginning, and then add the finely ground flower petals from Vernonia amygdalina midway through; after the second half hour boiling to be exact. This would be simple and would hopefully help get Harry the rest of the way to being cancer-free by his April check-up.

They were walking side-by-side leaving the hospital, heading towards the apparation point to go to Hogsmeade before walking back to Hogwarts, when Harry said, "Thank you, Dad. I know I don't say that nearly enough, but thank you for all the work you're doing. I don't know what I'd do if… it's just, the Dursley's wouldn't have even bothered."

He reached over and gave his son a hug, even if Harry didn't normally like getting them at sixteen. Looking him over closely, from his always messy raven hair, emerald eyes, and wire glasses, Severus silently questioned how he ever saw this child as James Potter. Harry may be the spitting image of James, but he couldn't act any further from him.

"I love you, Harry," he told the young wizard in front of him, "No matter what happened with your relatives, never forget that you are loved."

~~~~SS~~~~

Wednesday 27 November, 1996

Today was the day they would know for sure if the black substance Severus collected last month was actually dark magic from the piece of the Dark Lord's soul within Harry. It was a lot to think about and he found himself getting overwhelmed by it all, which is why he continued to only focus on the immediate step in front of him. Today, that was dropping the black substance into the completed potion, something so simple that could have potentially catastrophic results. Now that Harry knew about the block - in theory - he would not necessarily need to tell him about the soul piece until he knew how to get rid of it. If the young wizard knew, it would completely unravel him, and right now Harry needed to stay as positive as possible.

While the potion was technically sitting in its cauldron ready to test, Severus made the decision at four this morning, when he'd gone to unhook Harry's nutrient feeding, not to actually run the test until after dinner with the Gryffindor in an effort to try and stay focused on his classes. Today, during his sixth year class, they were officially starting the incantations for the Patronus charm and he needed to be focused to help them through it. He didn't want the thoughts of how to rid the soul fragment from Harry's body running through his head during class while he was trying to demonstrate the Patronus; no, that would definitely be counterproductive.

Severus was pleasantly surprised when he walked into the kitchen for breakfast and Harry was already sitting at the table, eating a small plate of peanut butter toast and scrambled eggs. He was sure eggs, along with ginger and avocado, would be near the top of the list of foods that Harry would not be able to eat again without thinking back to his chemotherapy days. It was a thought that saddened him; that this battle would continue to scar the young wizard long after the cancer was gone.

As he had anticipated - though the teen in front of him surely had his doubts - Harry had woken up that morning with more energy than he's had since before the Department of Mysteries incident. Not so surprisingly, that also happened to coincide with the timing that Harry had stopped eating as he mourned his Godfather's death. It was an observation he'd noticed immediately upon entering this reality, yet he could not act upon it because of his counterpart's hatred for the Gryffindor. Thinking back, he questioned how no one could have noticed something was wrong back then.

"How are you feeling this morning?" He asked, pouring himself a much needed cup of coffee.

Harry took a second to contemplate that question, a subtle change in demeanor no one else would have noticed in the teen.

"I'm actually feeling pretty good," he gave Severus a small smile, as if admitting he'd been wrong. "My throat's a little sore and my nose is running, but that's really it."

Dr. Swanson had explained that both of those were common side effects as his body adjusted to the foreign object inside of it, but just in case Severus placed his hand on Harry's forehead to confirm there was no fever.

"Do I have to go to class this morning?" Harry bluntly asked, and Severus wasn't sure if it was because of the magic or the tube causing his desire to miss one of his favorite subjects.

"Of course you do."

"But I can already cast a Patronus, and since I can't use magic anyway there's really no point of me being there." For once, Harry's attitude surrounding his magic was one of genuine curiosity instead of dread.

We really should have done this sooner.

"Then you can assist the other students in the class," he hadn't planned on utilizing Harry's help, however it was a good use of the Gryffindor's unique talent. After all, he had a feeling most of the members from Harry's defense group last year would be able to properly cast a Patronus; likely on their first or second try. If Harry could teach that spell to a group of children at least a year too young to learn it, then he could help the rest of the class attempt it.

"Oh, wonderful," Harry complained, "I'm sure all the Slytherins will love to learn from me."

"You'd be surprised, Harry," he flatly replied, not really believing it himself. "Now finish up breakfast or we'll both be late."

When the professor would later reflect on that class, he only had himself to blame for the abysmal lesson.

"Mr. Potter," Severus called from the front of the classroom as the students vacated their desks, "I have it on good authority that you've previously taught this spell to several of your fellow classmates. As such, I expect you to assist where others may need it for today's lesson."

Harry nodded his head, clearly doing his best to ignore the sneers from the other side of the room. With the wave of his ebony wand, all the desks moved to the sides giving plenty of room for the students to practice.

"Everyone spread out," the professor called. "And remember, focus on the happiest memory you have, allowing it to fill you up, before you speak the incantation."

He should have known it would not go well. Less than fifteen minutes into their practice, he'd had to perform counter jinxes on Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, Ernie Macmillian, and Pansy Parkinson. The last was not due to an attack on the Slytherin witch herself, but instead it was due to her attempt to jinx Hermione. Naturally, the Gryffindor witch blocked - very well, Severus noted - the attack, sending the jinx straight back to Pansy who did not react with her own block fast enough. Ultimately, he was truly lucky to have ended the class without a single student "accidentally" injured, though half of the class ended up with detentions; most of which were his Slytherins.

Midway through the lesson, with most of Harry's defense members creating almost perfect Patronus', it continued to further divide the students. Given the strong hostility building as the class went on, he ended up forcing Harry to sit out during this lesson. Which of course, given Harry's tendency to be a natural leader, Severus still found the young wizard walking around the classroom occasionally helping one of the other students.

"You have to let the feeling fill you up inside. I found it easier if I closed my eyes and pictured the memory in as much detail as I could first," he heard Harry explain, and when the professor took another look back, he was surprised to see it was Draco that Harry was talking to.

"I don't think I'll have time to sit down and close my eyes and think of a memory when there's a dementor coming towards me," the blonde said back, but he obeyed Harry's instructions.

"It's a bit like Occlumency," Harry continued on, "you need to do all these steps first, but as you get better with it, you won't need to do them anymore."

Severus was filled with pride that Harry could talk about Occlumency so easily. It was only a couple of months ago when just whispering the word Occlumency pushed the Gryffindor into a panic attack. It was in that moment that Severus knew Harry was definitely ready to start the next phase: an attempted attack on his mind. Given how well the first night of the overnight nutrients went, the professor decided they would wait until the tube was removed, so as not to stress Harry with any other new tasks. If he had his dates correct, that would put them working on it between the end of his exams and Professor Slughorn's party; a perfect time for his first attempt at it.

Whether it was purely coincidental or not, by the end of class, Draco was the only non-defense group student able to produce the start of a non-corporeal Patronus. To help the rest of the class, he assigned an essay - that would not be handed in for a grade - for them all to write out, in as much detail as possible, the memory they were using while casting, in hopes that it would help them visualize it better and they'd have more success come Monday morning.

His day only dragged on from there since he was doing all theoretical lessons the rest of the day. Finally, the time came to test the black substance, and for reasons unknown even to himself, Severus was nervous.

Harry was in his bedroom, hopefully working on his homework with Hermione, and Draco was standing next to him in his laboratory ready to actually run the test. After all these weeks babysitting the potion, the testing of the black substance was as anticlimactic as simply dripping five drops of the substance into the boiling potion - which was now an ugly green - and watching for the reaction. If a magical signature was present, the magic would be released from the liquid in some very unclear fashion. The problem he'd quickly found with the old texts was that their process for documentation was nowhere near what it was today and therefore the "release" could be anything from a small puff of smoke to an exploding cauldron.

Draco lifted his sleeves, giving the bubbling liquid another stir and asked, "What if nothing happens? Does that mean we did something wrong?"

That was another flaw to this plan he hadn't really considered. A null reaction could mean that they brewed it incorrectly, or it could simply mean that there was no magical signature in the substance. Basically, he could have spent all this time and be no closer to any answers.

"As we do not have the time to repeat the potion, we will assume it is a negative result," Severus replied, methodically.

The blonde Slytherin narrowed his eyes, "Why don't we have time to repeat it? What's waiting on this potion, professor?"

Draco said it in just the right way, that Severus knew he somehow had an idea of what this potion would point to once they added the black substance. He didn't know how he'd figured it out or how much detail he knew about it - Harry being a Horcrux - but it was something he'd need to find out in the upcoming weeks.

"That's none of your concern at the moment," the professor sternly said. "I want you to get behind that far table, just in case this has a volatile reaction."

If it was the Dark Lord's magical signature coming out, it wasn't a matter of if it had a volatile reaction; it was more like how volatile the reaction would be. Taking a deep breath, he surveyed the scene in front of him. On the tabletop was the cauldron with the putrid green potion, the large phial of the black substance, and his wand. Regardless of how many times he looked around the room, there was really nothing else he needed. Therefore he came to the conclusion that at this point, he was simply delaying because he didn't want to know the truth; but he needed to know, they all needed to know.

Checking to make sure Draco was safely behind the table - with his own Hawthorne wand drawn ready to shield himself - Severus opened the phial and held it steadily in his left hand, while firmly holding his wand out in his right; hoping he would be quick enough to cast a shielding charm should it be necessary. Giving Draco one last nod, he very carefully tipped the phial of the black substance until thick black drops formed on the lip of the phial before falling into the cauldron.

Drop number one… drop number two… drop numbers three and four…

The professor paused for an extra second before giving one last tap on the phial and the fifth - and final - drop fell from the phial, almost in slow motion, into the potion. His stomach lurched when there was no reaction immediately after that fifth drop hit the potion's surface and was engulfed into the boiling liquid. He counted to five and still, nothing happened. Severus finally peered over the edge of the cauldron, watching as the potion turned from the murky green to a vibrant orange, and then the last thing he would remember seeing was a black plume of heavy smoke rise out of the cauldron.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry had every expectation of waking up Wednesday morning feeling no different than any other morning - proving that Dr. Swanson had been wrong and he didn't need the extra nutrients - except that definitely wasn't the case. When his eyes popped open before dawn, he immediately noticed that he had more energy than he'd remembered having since his diagnosis. Stretching his always aching limbs, the second thing he noticed was that while the tube running through his nose and down to his stomach was still in place, as it would be for at least the next three weeks, it was capped closed and he was able to freely move. Sometime in the middle of the night, or the early hours of the morning, Snape or Madam Pomfrey, must have been by to remove the liquid nutrients.

Fine, so maybe she does know what she's talking about, Harry grudgingly thought as he brushed his teeth before breakfast. Maybe by the Christmas holiday, this would be completely behind him.

The rest of the morning turned out to be pretty amusing to the young wizard. His first class of the day was Defense, which Snape wouldn't allow him to skip, but it had been worth a try to ask. As expected, he'd heard the snickering from around the room about the nasogastric tube the moment he walked into the classroom, but thankfully that stopped almost immediately when Snape walked in. They were working on the Patronus charm, which of course he and most of the D.A. members could produce without any issues, so at first, Snape had him walking around the room helping the struggling - mostly Slytherin - students. As he'd predicted, none of the Slytherins wanted to learn from him, so Snape ended up telling him to sit out and work on his other assignments. It didn't last long until he was back helping out, mostly Malfoy, while also watching the other students not-so-subtly try to hex each other. By the end of class, most of the students who had snickered at him ended up with detentions for attempting to attack the D.A. members every time they created perfect Patronus' that danced around the classroom. Harry was filled with too much pride by the middle of class for the embarrassment to pull him down.

Before lunch, which he would still be having with Snape at home, he ended up in the library with Hermione, Dudley, and Ron to finish telling them about the Horcrux.

"So wait a minute," Ron whispered, looking like he was a second away from passing out, "you're telling us that you have a piece of you-know-who's soul living inside of you? And that it's blocking your magic?"

"More or less, yeah," Harry confirmed. "I think the potion Snape's working on has something to do with it, like he's going to be able to tell if it's really in there or not."

"That would explain how the visions are working," Hermione rationally explained, though no one had mentioned his visions. Leave it to her to find the connection that had literally been haunting him for over a year.

"How do you get it out?" Dudley finally spoke up. "Or do you have to live with this thing inside of you forever?"

Harry got the impression that his cousin was terrified of him for having a piece of the soul from the wizard that killed his parents living inside of him.

That makes two of us, Dudley.

"Erm… " Harry looked to Hermione for the answer, since he'd passed out before getting to read that far and in Hogsmeade she seemed like she knew.

"The only way to release the soul piece is to damage the container beyond magical or physical repair," she furrowed her eyebrows and frowned, "that means-"

"I have to die," Harry interrupted her. "More importantly, that Voldemort can't die if this soul piece is still inside of me."

He lowered his head to where his forehead was resting on his folded arms across the table. It was getting hard to breathe, like a stone was placed on his chest and no matter how he tried, he couldn't get enough oxygen in, and his stomach was tied in knots. How was he supposed to be destined to kill the dark wizard if he had to die first? Though the bigger question probably was, why were they even bothering with any of the chemotherapy if he was destined to die in the end anyways?

"Hey," a voice behind him caused his head to rise, "You alright, Potter?"

Of course it was Malfoy. The Slytherin seemed to be slowly inserting himself into their group now that he was… Harry wasn't sure what he was exactly… with Hermione. The blonde pulled the chair out that was next to Hermione - and directly across Harry - smoothly placing his hand on Hermione's back as he sat down and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"I'm fine, Malfoy," he answered and then genuinely said, "great start on your Patronus in class today. Dare I ask what memory you used?"

Malfoy didn't react, but Harry saw his eyes flicker towards Hermione and suddenly Harry didn't want to know what it was.

"I could ask you the same thing, Potter," the blonde replied back without any malice, "but I have a feeling you won't tell us."

"Fair enough," Harry conceded, then he completely ignored the rest of the conversation around him, especially after he heard Malfoy ask Hermione what her dress for Slughorn's party looked like.

He wanted to finish brainstorming a way to remove the piece of Voldemort from inside of him, but then a more horrifying thought came into his head: Snape obviously knew about this already, and if Snape did, Malfoy probably knew already too. That had to be what the potion was going to confirm for them; that the black stuff was Voldemort's magic, and that same magic was now protecting his split core. The whole thing was giving him a massive headache, and the fact that Malfoy was involved somehow made the situation feel worse. Harry didn't care if Malfoy was Merlin himself or the next prodigy brewer, why would Snape tell the blonde about Voldemort's soul piece before telling him first? Given the fact that Lucius was now out of Azkaban, what would happen if Malfoy went and told Voldemort?

As he looked around the table at his friends, his heart was filled with intense sorrow. Ron and Dudley were laughing over something or other that had happened in muggle studies, and Harry gave a small chuckle imagining what Mr. Weasley would do during an afternoon with Harry's muggle cousin. Then there was Malfoy and Hermione, both intensely going over their notes from what looked like Ancient Runes; every so often Malfoy would turn his head slightly and watch the Gryffindor witch from the corner of his grey eyes.

He didn't want to die; he didn't want to leave them all behind. Yes, he'd been frustrated lately because they had all moved on living without him and that was only going to get worse next year when inevitably Harry wouldn't, or couldn't, join them for their final year. He wouldn't be with them. It used to be because he had to wait for the cancer to go away and then wait for this magic to come back, but now it would be because somehow he had to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated.

Harry's good mood from the morning had gotten soured by the Horcrux discovery during each passing hour - by the the idea of him having to die and the fact that Snape and Malfoy both knew about it - when Malfoy showed up at his quarters, with Hermione in tow, to continue working in the potion, Harry almost slammed the door into his face. The very last person he wanted to see at that moment was that particular Slytherin. In fact, if it weren't for Hermione standing next to him, he might have sent a jinx towards Malfoy right then and there; magic be damned. But he didn't, and the Snake went straight into Snape's office, presumably to the laboratory, while Hermione sat with Harry in his bedroom and they both studied for their upcoming Defense exam. Hermione was studiously at his desk writing - Harry had no clue what since they were studying and not working on an essay - while Harry was sitting up in his bed trying to focus on the book in his lap. His mind kept wandering to the Horcrux and he had to keep reminding himself not to focus on it, which brought his mind back to Malfoy and Hermione's relationship.

"So what's going on with you and Malfoy?" Harry found himself not-so-randomly asking when he couldn't take in another word on dark creatures.

"Oh. I don't know, it just sort of… happened," she placed her quill down on the desk and turned to him. Her face was flushed and full of sympathy for her friend that was so secluded from his friends' lives, he didn't even know how she'd gone from hating the blonde to starting a relationship with him. "He found me after a prefect meeting, you see… to ask me if I'd go to Hosgmeade with him, and there was something about how vulnerable he looked… and acted that just… you know? It felt right."

Harry didn't really know, but at the same time he knew how awkward he had been around Cho last year and the year before when he asked her to the Yule Ball. He was a total mess and had anyone asked him about why he felt that way, he'd never be able to explain it to them. Granted, things with Cho definitely didn't work out well, so maybe that wasn't the best example to use.

"But what about his family?" Harry asked and then without even thinking he added, "He has the Dark Mark, Hermione."

"I know that," she angrily said, "and he's risking his life to help the Order and to help you. Please don't be mad about this, Harry. I know I should have told you, and I'm sorry I didn't."

Harry wasn't sure he'd go as far to say Malfoy was helping him, nevertheless she did have a point. Most of the animosity between the two boys had started to dissipate this year and a lot of that was because Lucius was in Azkaban. He wasn't anymore though, the man had been broken out and Harry wasn't going to be the one to tell Hermione if she didn't already know.

"I'm not mad at you, 'Mione. Just be careful, alright?" He eventually told her. "I'm sure Malfoy knows all sorts of ways to trick us into believing he's changed if he hasn't, and I need to look out for you."

Hermione stood up, and sat down on the bed next to him, picking up his hand and holding it in her own, she then said, "And I love you for that, Harry. I'll be -"

She never got the chance to finish her sentence because she was interrupted by a loud exploding sound.

Harry sat in the dark, silent, almost empty hospital wing trying not to think about the scene he and Hermione walked into after hearing the explosion - he now knew that's what it was - from his bedroom. Naturally, in the attempt not to think about, that was all he had running through his mind.

The first thing they'd noticed was Malfoy unconscious on the floor under the closest workbench upon entering the room. The two Gryffindors quickly ran to his side, rolled him over and saw the fast rising and falling of his chest showing that he was at least still alive. He had no outward injuries on his face or hands, but Harry knew that didn't mean he wasn't injured inside.

"Malfoy!" Harry called out at the other wizard, gently shaking his shoulder. "Draco, can you hear me?"

The Slytherin gave a small, painful moan and grimaced, but did not open his eyes or make much other movement. Harry was torn on what to do: leave Hermione with Malfoy and look for Snape or send her for help.

"Hermione," he finally said, "Severus keeps the floo powder up on the mantle in a brown beaker, go firecall Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall."

Hermione gave one more tearful look at Malfoy - at Draco - lying unconscious on the floor, then nodded her head and left to get help. Harry rested the Slytherin flat onto his back so he would not accidentally roll anywhere and then got up to hopefully find Snape alive.

Harry had only been in Snape's laboratory once, and it was after him and Draco ran back from Hogsmeade the previous Saturday to tell the professor about seeing Lucius. Even from that short, confusing time period, the moment he took a good look around the laboratory, he knew it was completely different now. The bottles that had lined the shelves were shattered and their contents were pooling onto the table tops and the floor. Harry briefly panicked about what would happen should they mix, but remembered back to his first year class and discussing - he repeated it in his head, using Snape's voice of course - "the proper way to store the potions and their ingredients so should they all shatter, and you were ignorant enough not to have an unbreakable charm on them, nothing will further explode".

There was black soot covering the entire top half of the room, starting from a midnight black on the ceiling and dissipating until only a few speckles were on the wall level to Harry's chest. The workbenches were also covered in the black soot, with most of it concentrated at the farthest table where a cauldron was still bubbling and a figure was slumped over sideways on the floor.

"Severus!"

The professor was unconscious and quite obviously hurt. His black hair was sticky from whatever the potion was and his normally pale face was covered with the black soot. The young wizard could see blood seeping through the soot, leaving trails of thick black along his face, that were met with the drops of tears Harry didn't realize he had falling from his eyes. He tried to lift Snape up by his shoulders, but it was no use. Unlike Draco, Snape was far too strong for the ill wizard to move any further.

Harry didn't remember Hermione returning with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. Nor did he remember Professor McGonagall pulling him from Snape's side so Madam Pomfrey could get to him and start preparing him to move to the hospital wing. He did remember standing with Hermione, his arm around her shoulders as she cried waiting for the medi-witch to help Draco. It was a potion whose identity was known only by the two wizards who'd been incapacitated by it, therefore Madam Pomfrey gave strict instructions not to use any magic until she's been able to assess the injuries herself.

The two Gryffindor students had been led up to the hospital wing and, when the two Slytherins were stable, given a thorough check up, just in case there were any residual side effects from the mysterious potion. When they'd been deemed perfectly fine, they each went to their respective chairs besides the person they cared about who had just been injured. Harry watched as Hermione held Draco's hand, and any leftover animosity the young wizard had towards the Slytherin disappeared. So what if Draco knew about Voldemort's soul living inside of him? Harry wasn't even sure the other teen did know, and regardless, he was here in the hospital wing because he was most likely helping Snape on the potion for him.

Harry's hypothesis was confirmed when Draco woke up around a quarter past nine and was able to relay what had happened in Snape's laboratory. Unfortunately, outside of a "potion for the Order" - something that even McGonagall didn't know any extra details about - the Slytherin could only provide a partial list of ingredients that had been used, but it was enough for the medi-witch to start her proper healing. Despite the knowledge of what had been used in the potion, with Madam Pomfrey huffing something about scales that meant nothing to Harry, Snape remained unconscious.

Hermione stayed by the Draco's bedside until five minutes before curfew when Madam Pomfrey told her it was time for her to go back to the Gryffindor tower. She gave Harry a saddened look and then left for the night, leaving Harry in the quiet room, illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of the lanterns. No one told him to go back to dungeons; they knew he wouldn't leave anyways. Instead, Professor McGonagall handed him a pair of hospital issued pyjamas he changed into to try and be more comfortable for however long he would be staying, and Madam Pomfrey still insisted he continue on his tube feeding while he tried to sleep. Harry barely registered any of it going on around him.

In the next several hours he'd spent sitting at Snape's bedside - tossing and turning in the uncomfortable chair no matter how many different ways Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey transfigured it - he thought hard about his magic. If Snape and Draco had been working on the potion to confirm the block, had something gone wrong? Or did it go right? Since the day he found out about the block, and then the Horcrux, he'd gone back and forth on what to do with his magic, but he'd now made his decision. If the potion could confirm the presence of the block, he would take the risk to protect it. If it couldn't confirm the block or somehow Snape had been wrong about it - and being a Horcrux - in the first place, then he would continue on the current path, trying to preserve as much of his organized magic as he could in hopes that he had enough when all of this was over. If he were honest, he thought it was kind of a moot point if they couldn't safely remove the soul piece, but Snape would expect an answer and if Harry had any chance of mentally making it through the upcoming months, he couldn't think too much about it.

"This is a… reversal of… our normal… roles."

Harry's attention was brought out of his inward thoughts over to the man laying in the hospital wing bed across from his chair. The young wizard breathed a sigh of relief to see Snape finally awake, and lucid enough to make a sarcastic observation like that one.

"What time is it?" Snape asked. His glassy, black eyes scanned the room around him.

Harry gave a weak smile, he knew exactly how disorienting it was to wake up in the hospital wing, and that was always the first question he had.

"My best guess is about two o'clock in the morning."

"What happened?" The professor asked next, pushing himself up onto his elbows. That was always Harry's second question too.

"Something exploded in your laboratory."

"Draco-"

"He's alright," the Gryffindor reassured Snape, "he's staying overnight here, but it's more as a precaution because no one could identify the potion since you were unconscious, and they didn't want any unexpected side effects popping up."

"There shouldn't be any," Snape replied. "However it never hurts to be extra cautious."

An awkward silence enveloped the pair of wizards and Harry worried his bottom lip, unsure if he should ask the question burning inside of him.

"What was that potion?" He asked, then shook his head deciding he needed to be more forward about what he was desperate to know. "Was it to confirm the block?"

His heart was racing in the short - but seemed to take forever - moments before Snape answered.

"Yes," the professor confirmed with a grimace, "that's what the potion was for."

"And what did you find?" The young wizard tentatively responded, while knotting his fingers together in his lap, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Another thick silence fell over them and Harry was certain Snape could hear his heart pounding against his chest.

"It was positive," Snape finally said, "there is definitely a block within your core. We can discuss how to handle your magic once you've had time to process it."

The Gryffindor didn't know if he wanted to jump for joy over the idea that there was now a better chance than not that he would end up with some kind of magic after chemotherapy, even if it was raw and untrained, or he wanted to sink down into the floor because now he knew for sure that he had a piece of Voldemort's soul sitting next to his own. Instead of either, he let out the shaky breath he'd been holding and swallowed back the bile that had started to rise in the back of his throat.

"I want to try to protect the block and the magic underneath," he confidently said.

"Harry," Snape sat all the way up even though Harry could tell it pained the man to do so, "This is a big decision, you don't have to decide tonig-"

"It's what I want," Harry said again, making eye contact to show that his decision was final.

Harry didn't want to talk about how nervous it made him inside or how much more unknown it made his future. The young wizard wanted to tell the man in front of him that he knew about being a Horcrux - that he knew the explanation he'd been given about the block was a lie - but he couldn't get the words to form on his lips and tongue. It would forever change the dynamic between them, and Harry wasn't ready for that. Maybe, he tried to rationalize to himself, Snape already had a plan in place to remove the evil soul and Harry simply had to do the one thing he had always struggled with in the past - let an adult take over and trust that person would do what was best for him.