~~~~HP~~~~

Harry woke up the day after Slughorn's party with a feeling of dread sitting in the pit of his stomach and he had no idea why. It took a solid minute for his brain to clear out and him to realize that it was officially the start of the Christmas Holiday. His friends had likely all left for the Hogwarts Express this morning - to which he was told he could not go for safety reasons - and he now had no idea what would be happening to him after overhearing that Snape would not be here during the break. It was like they were always going two steps forward and one step back; making progress - towards what he wasn't exactly sure - but at such a painstakingly slow rate.

He took his time getting ready for the day, having no idea what to expect when he left the relative safety of his bedroom. When he'd gotten back late last night, he assumed Snape had already gone to bed as the sitting room was empty and the Gryffindor was not about to go to the man's bedroom and tell him he was back just in case he was asleep. Waking a sleeping Snape was a sure fire way to end up as Potion's ingredients; especially after what happened with Draco. Being able to take a good guess at Snape's ability to set up alarms and wards, he assumed the professor knew when Harry so much as sneezed, so he wasn't feeling too bad about not telling him.

"Good morning," he was greeted by the professor the moment he stepped into the kitchen. "Did you have a good night last night?"

Who was he kidding, there was no way he was going to make it out of this without some kind of conversation regarding his night.

"It was good," he went with, "I actually had a lot of fun, and I think Luna did too."

"I think Miss. Lovegood can have a good time doing just about anything," Snape said and Harry felt his guard come down slightly.

The Gryffindor took his seat at the breakfast table, filling half his plate before Snape placed his morning medications next to it, and the professor sat down across from him.

"About what you did last night-"

"It was stupid and I didn't drink any of it," Harry interrupted. Now that he thought about it, Snape never did ask him if he'd had any of the alcohol, "just so you know."

"Oh, I know you didn't," Snape replied, "I'd be able to smell it on your breath instantly."

Oh. Not that he was planning on doing that again, but it was good to know - though not surprising - that the former spy was indeed that observant.

"Good."

"I hadn't expected the need to set this rule, but do know that neither alcohol or drugs-" Snape paused with an inquisitive look to his face, "- will be tolerated while living here. You've had your warning and the next time you will face a punishment that matches the severity of the crime."

Harry took a long gulp of his pumpkin juice in an attempt to avoid having to respond to that. Instead, unwilling to trust his voice not to give away his fear over what kind of punishment would match that of underage drinking or drug use, he nodded his head in understanding.

"Good." The professor mirrored Harry's earlier response.

They both finished their respective breakfast in silence. Harry was ruminating over what he'd heard last night and wanted desperately to ask about it.

"I need you to get packed this morning," Snape eventually said, breaking their semi-companionable silence. "Everything you think you'll need for winter break, including Christmas. Remember, you have chemotherapy on the 24th and 25th."

At this point, one would think he wouldn't need the constant reminders, and yet he'd managed to forget these two. Just how he wanted to spend his Christmas holiday, alone and sick.

"Where am I going?" Harry asked sullenly, unsure if he actually wanted to know.

Snape lifted his head from a list he had been writing out and gave the young wizard an inquisitive stare, "I thought we could use some time away from the castle."

We.

Harry hadn't missed that small, yet very important pronoun. Wherever Snape was talking about being last night, it had included him. Two things happened simultaneously as Harry digested and started to comprehend this simple idea; his anxiety over what he'd heard last night disappeared, and it was replaced with an overpowering sense of exhilaration.

"Where are we going?" He'd instantly perked up over the idea. Then hoping he wasn't stepping over some unknown boundary, he asked "Is it just us?"

"And your cousin," Snape answered, ignoring, most likely intentionally, the first question. "That is, unless you think he'd rather spend Christmas here alone."

"No!" Harry said, too animatedly. "He absolutely should come with us. What do I need to bring?"

"Comfortable clothing," Snape responded, "we are not going or doing anything fancy and again, you have chemotherapy. And don't forget to pack your school work, we won't be back until the day before term starts."

The Gryffindor nodded at the second reminder. Without giving it another thought, he got up from the table and went to his room to pack up. There was a duffel bag sitting on his bed, courtesy of Snape he was sure, so he wouldn't have to pack his whole trunk. It was something so small, but it was only the second time he was going somewhere that he didn't have to pack his entire worldly possessions - the first being last Christmas which he spent at Grimmauld place. Harry was sure that no one else would really understand what it was like having to pack up every you owned every time you went somewhere. It was a good feeling not to have to do that this year and a great start to his holiday, especially considering he'd woken up thinking he'd be shipped off elsewhere.

He had just finished his packing, including the Christmas gifts he'd finally gotten for Snape - luckily the last one had come in yesterday morning - when Dudley walked into his bedroom carrying his own duffel bag.

"Hey, Harry," Dudley called, standing a bit awkwardly in the bedroom. The turn of the tables between them had to be weird for the other teen and Harry was determined to try to help out wherever he could. "You packed?"

"Almost," the young wizard replied, adding his sketchpad and pencils to the top of his bag. "Any idea where we're going?"

Dudley shook his head, "Not a clue, I was hoping you would know."

The Gryffindor wondered what was with all the secrecy behind it. If this were the end of last year, or even most of the summer, he would have assumed the professor was taking him to Voldemort, now though, he trusted Snape.

"I heard you had an exciting time at the party last night," Dudley commented with a smile. "Honestly, I never thought of you as that kind of kid."

"I didn't drink it," Harry frustratingly said. "And so what if I did? I'm sure you've done loads worse than that."

It was something he shouldn't have said, he knew that the moment the words left his mouth, but Harry rarely thought before he spoke - especially to his cousin - and it was something he knew he had to work on. Dudley took it in stride though.

"That's not a good thing, Harry. Let me tell you from experience," the other boy explained, "it's best not to start down that road to begin with."

Both boys left it at that; Harry not daring to ask how his cousin knew something like that, and Dudley not offering any unsolicited advice. That fell into the area between them that neither really wanted to talk about. Instead, they focused on lighter topics: how their first term went, guesses to where they thought they were going, and how long they thought Ron would really stay with Lavender.

Snape walked in the room a short time later with his own bag slung over his shoulder. It was an odd sight to see the professor so casual, that Harry almost started laughing the minute his door opened. He'd managed to hold most of it in, but Snape still narrowed his eyes at the Gryffindor questioningly.

"I take it you're packed," Snape assumed as his eyes shifted towards Harry's bag. "Let us go."

Harry had naturally assumed that wherever they were going it would be by floo, so he was surprised when Snape led them to the door.

That right, he told himself, Severus said he wouldn't be reachable by floo.

He was lost in his thoughts as they made their way through the empty castle and out to the grounds. It was obvious they were on their way to Hogsmeade to apparate or use a port key to the mysterious location.

"Are you ever going to tell me where we're going?" He asked, jogging a little to catch up to Snape's larger and faster strides.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to."

The Gryffindor chuckled at Dudley's confused face.

"Wait a second," the muggle said, "like you physically can't say? How is that even possible?"

"It's under a Fidelius charm then?" Harry asked, to which Snape merely nodded. Since it appeared the professor was going to ignore Dudley's questions, Harry explained, "it's a charm to keep secrets safe. It makes it impossible for just anyone to tell the secret, or location if it's a place because only the person who was entrusted the information can actually tell. That person's called the secret keeper. It'll keep us safe… "

He trailed off thinking at the same time he slowed his walking.

"Professor?" Dudley called ahead at the man who hadn't noticed the young wizard's abrupt change of pace. "What happened?"

Snape walked back to Harry and kneeled down in front of him, "You will be safe there. We will be safe there."

"Who's the secret keeper?" Harry asked, unsure if he actually needed to know that information to ease his troubled mind.

"One of the Weasley's," the former spy said. "I promise you, no one will be able to get to us."

Harry nodded and then said to Dudley, "My parents' house… erm… my house was under a Fidelius charm, but their secret keeper worked for… you-know-who and told him where they were. That's how he was able to blast right through the front door without any issues."

"Oh," now Dudley looked worried. "But it's someone from Ron's family. They'd never betray you like that."

"Exactly," Snape confirmed, "I've placed extra wards on the location as well. Trust me, Harry, no one can either find it nor will they be able to get to it."

Feeling the reassurance from his mentor, Harry picked up the bag that had fallen from his shoulder onto the wet ground and continued walking. The excitement he'd felt earlier had dissipated and in its wake was an uncertainty he couldn't quite place. Where exactly were they going that one of the Weasley's would be the secret keeper?

"Alright," Snape said, turning his head between both boys and then taking out a tattered hat. "Hold on to this."

Again, Dudley's confusion was enough for Harry to smile, easing some of his previous anxiety. Grabbing the hat, and then assuring Dudley he wasn't completely mental, they were whisked away, to where Harry still had no idea.

~~~~SS~~~~

Unlike the apparation point at Shell Cottage, the port key did not land them at the crest of the hill to where they could immediately see the beach. As expected, both boys fell with a hard thump against the rocky ground, and Severus silently cursed himself for not thinking about landing somewhere softer. Once they got into the cottage, he'd need to ask Harry about any bruising, just to be safe. It would be an unfortunate way to start out their trip with an emergency visit from Dr. Swanson.

He'd gotten the idea to take the Gryffindor to Shell Cottage for Christmas shortly after the potions accident where he confirmed the soul fragment's presence. Refusing to allow Harry to cross paths with Alton even for a short while, to make this a reality meant going to Albus and requesting the Smithe's be moved to an alternate location. Whether it was by design that he did not know the new safe house they'd been transplanted to, or simply overlooked on the headmaster's part, Severus didn't know nor did he really care. All that mattered to him was that he was going to spend the Christmas holiday getting to show Harry the sea for the first time in his life.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, wiping the dirt from his jeans.

"Tinworth, in Cornwall," he answered because that was as far as he could say. Pointing up the hill behind the young wizard, he added, "That way."

The three of them walked up the small dirt path, listening to crashing waves increasing as they approached the crest.

"Is that..."

An emotion Severus was sure this version of his body had never felt before swelled up inside of him by the sheer excitement on Harry's face. He could tell instantly the moment the young wizard's emerald eyes set their sight on the expansive shoreline and large waves being brought to shore by the sharp wind. Some would say Cornwall was pointless to visit in the wintertime, but Severus disagreed. While one couldn't swim in the sea, the weather was surprisingly pleasant compared to the frozen landscape they'd just left behind and the waves took on a life of their own in the winter time. The professor could almost picture Harry - after spending the peak of the afternoon walking the shoreline - sitting with his red blanket out on the back porch simply watching the waves coming and going across the sand.

For a split second, he was brought back to his old reality; to the trip he'd taken with the other Harry to Aberdaron, as he remembered almost the same awe and appreciation in the young child's face, and yet somehow this Harry seemed even more awestruck. Severus had always hated the subject of divination - with good reason - and yet he couldn't deny the similarities, the pure coincidences, and the parallels between his old reality and this one. Lately there had been nuances that had left him thoroughly confused. Some of them he'd had control over, like coming to Shell Cottage or getting Harry's dress robes for Slughorn's party, while others were purely coincidental, like Harry asking him about a date to the party or Draco and Harry with the whiskey. It was as if certain parts of their life were fated to happen in one way or another, and the implications of that chilled him to his core. Didn't the cancer back there give all appearances that it was gone too? From his October appointment all the way up until that last month or so, every test had come back clean; the Leukemia had been going away, but then it wasn't and it took over too quickly to stop it.

Shaking his head, refusing to allow himself down that road on this holiday, he continued to watch Harry take in the scene in front of him. That type of thinking would be reserved for when he was back at school, back in real life. Here, he would commit to simply enjoying the time away and being able to focus on finally giving Harry at least one Christmas where he could live the life he'd seen in that memory.

"Ah, professor?" Dudley was the first to break the silence, "there has to be nothing around here for miles. Are you sure that hat dropped us off in the right place?"

The smirk that crossed Harry's face was worth the extra pause before he held out two pieces of parchment that would provide both teens with the details needed to get past the Fidelius charm. Of course Severus could see the small cottage to the left of the hill they stood on, surrounded by tall swaying grass that almost whispered as the wind passed through it and a tall cliff between the back porch and the beach.

"Read it," he started, "and then hand it back to me for incineration."

Harry, in an effort to embrace the magic, immediately closed his eyes after reading the small parchment. It was with his eyes closed that he handed it back to Severus who promptly destroyed the evidence with a quick incendio. Afraid to blink and potentially miss Harry's reaction to the full picturesque scene before him, the professor shallowed his breathing and was rewarded when the young wizard opened his eyes with a small gasp.

"This is perfect," he said, with a large smile and in a quieter voice added, "thank you."

"You are welcome. Let's go get settled."

And so the odd trio walked down the opposite side of the hill they'd come in on and towards the small cottage that would be their home until shortly after the New Year. With each step he took away into the boundary of the wards and away from the apparition point, Severus could feel himself relaxing, he could feel all his his anxieties and his worries slipping away so the next two weeks would allow him to focus solely on the two people walking in front of him.

"How did you know about this place?" Harry asked over a game of wizard's chess after dinner on their first night. Just like over the summer, Severus would be preparing their meals again, but tonight Harry insisted he and Dudley help - a testament to the young wizard's comfortable level.

It had been a relaxing day with a tour of the small, yet comfortable cottage and unpacking for their stay. Though Severus gave both boys the option to choose their rooms, either of the two smaller ones upstairs, he already knew Harry would select the smallest one that overlooked the cliff and beach. It was just large enough for the twin sized bed, with its old floral pattern that was too reminiscent of Petunia's style of decorating, that was placed along the far wall and came out into the room. Across from the bed, on the wall flushed with the door, leaving a narrow gap just wide enough for Harry to walk though, was a small set of drawers with an aging mirror atop of it, that Severus was not sure would even hold half of Harry's clothing for their visit. A tiny bookshelf that still had on it two children's books leftover as proof of the room's previous tenant was tucked against the wall furthest from the door, and finally a plush chair sat between the bed and the window; perfect for Harry to sit and watch the ocean first thing in the morning. Everything with their accommodations was ideal for their stay, except somehow he'd not considered the fact that the upstairs did not have a lavatory. While it wouldn't be an issue during most of their trip, it would leave Harry sleeping on the sofa during his chemotherapy nights. As of that evening, Harry either hadn't considered this fact or he chose not to say anything, but Severus didn't want to ruin the happy atmosphere by mentioning it.

Harry spent most of the day outside, still bundled up even though it wasn't nearly as cold as what they'd left back in Scotland, walking along the beach. Aptly named, Shell Cottage was the perfect place to find a full assortment of sea shells - large, small, and of various colors and shapes - and both boys found combing the beach to be a great first day's activity, only coming in for lunch and to help prepare dinner.

"It's a safe house for the Order," Severus responded, "probably my favorite of them all."

"I can see why," the Gryffindor replied. After spending so much time during his chemotherapy practicing, Harry had become a decent opponent to play against in chess. He had definitely come a long way since their first game back at Privet Drive in those early treatment days. "I seriously love it here. Thank you, again, for bringing us."

It was the gratitude he hated to hear not only because, in general, he didn't deserve it, but specifically from Harry as it was a constant reminder of the basic things the teen had been withheld growing up. Things like knowing when his next full meal would be, having someone - primarily an adult - think about his own needs and wants before their own, and the basic necessities of life. It infuriated the professor to think that Petunia would hold such a grudge against the child of her sister. At this point in his life, he could admit that he, too, had held a similar grudge, however he had not been entrusted the life of the small, innocent toddler.

"Healer Smithe's family was here, weren't they?"

Deciding not to lie to the Gryffindor, Severus said, "Yes, they were here until earlier this week and have since been moved to an alternate safe location."

Harry absent-mindedly nodded and then looked around the small sitting room and asked, "Will we be getting a Christmas tree?"

The abrupt change of topic caused Severus to chuckle slightly. It was another harsh similarity between the two realities he hadn't anticipated; Harry's occasional forgetfulness and his difficulty staying focused - the latter of which made his improving chess game all the more impressive. It seemed the chemotherapy was having the same effect as Harry's first potion regimen did and he hoped it would cease when the chemotherapy did as with the other side effects he was experiencing.

He didn't need the reminder of Harry's reaction to the memory of them celebrating Christmas last year. When he arranged the cottage to be free for their visit, he'd also made the arrangements for a Christmas tree, which he'd be picking up on Monday. It had been his and Harry's tradition to decorate the tree the day before Christmas Eve back at their Spinner's End home.

"I can arrange for a Christmas tree on Monday if that's alright?" he feigned ignorance.

"Absolutely!" The young wizard replied, probably more excited than he would have been had they been back at Hogwarts.

"We always decorated the tree on Christmas Eve," Dudley said from the worn out sofa. He'd been reading and Severus was ashamed that he had forgotten the other teen was there.

Severus had known that fact from his old life since it was one of the reasons they always chose the 23rd to do their decorating. Harry had wanted to do something different than his relatives, and as Severus had never had a tree growing up anyways, he went with his son's suggestion. For him, the 23rd of December would always be filled with hot chocolate, muggle Christmas music, and their Christmas tree. Watching Harry's reaction to his cousin's proclamation was both inspiring and infuriating. Harry deserved this Christmas and for it to be exactly whatever the Gryffindor wanted it to be. He'd spent so much of his young life conforming to everyone else's vision of him and this was supposed to be a time when he could do something for himself. And yet the moment Dudley mentioned how his family used to decorate their Christmas tree, Severus already knew what the young wizard would do and to call him out on it would only put Harry in a worse position.

"We can do it on Christmas Eve," Harry predictably suggested, "if that's what you want, Dudley."

"Thanks, Harry," his cousin replied, "I'd like that."

The former spy could feel the guilt radiating off the child across from him. This would be Dudley's first Christmas without his doting parents and no matter what the professor had previously told him, he knew Harry thought he was responsible for it. So naturally, Harry would want to do anything he could to ease Dudley's grieving, even if that meant decorating his first real Christmas tree after a day of chemotherapy.

~~~~HP~~~~

Tuesday, 24th December, 1996

Each morning, before Harry even opened his eyes he already knew he was not only somewhere different, but somewhere new. This bed wasn't quite as comfortable as his bed back home at Hogwarts - and it was definitely smaller - but it was still infinitely better than his old one at Privet Drive or the hospital wing. The soft early rays from the sun that filtered in through the triangular window hit his face at a different angle, but the biggest difference he noticed in those first early moments of consciousness was the sound of the ocean and the smell of the sea air. It was so different than anything he'd ever experienced and yet something about it felt familiar; like he was meant to be here.

While Harry didn't know much about his counterpart back in Snape's old reality, he could definitely see that version of himself loving the ocean just as much as he did. Finally choosing to fully awaken, stretching to loosen his still aching body, he made his way over to the window and quietly watched the waves rhythmically cross the threshold of the beach. He briefly wondered if he should ask Snape about using the ocean as his Occlumency image, but decided flying was probably still the best option, even given the attack that had occurred. He didn't know when he'd visited the ocean in the professor's old reality, but he guessed they had to have at least attempted using an ocean landscape if he'd liked it this much and at least there, flying was still the most successful.

It was the morning of Christmas Eve - the first of his back-to-back chemotherapy days - and so Harry appropriately chose his pair of red and black flannel pyjamas to wear for the day along with his wool socks before heading downstairs for breakfast. The Gryffindor carefully made his way down the rickety staircase that went right through the middle of the small cottage; leaving the kitchen and dining room on his right and the lavatory and sitting room on his left. Halfway down the stairs, he could smell bacon wafting up from the kitchen drawing his attention to the fact that while he had breakfast every morning back home, the smells weren't nearly as enticing as when it'd been cooked in the same room. It brought him back to his days at Privet Drive making breakfast almost every morning for his relatives, at least up until his diagnosis; the only real good that came from the disease.

He carefully opened the door - just in case Snape or Dudley were near it - into the small, but cozy kitchen. On the far wall was a large fireplace with pots and pans surrounding it and a small, square work table directly in front. The entire right side of the room was covered in windows that started from the middle of the wall and went almost to the ceiling showcasing the ocean off the cliff and beach below it. Along with the windows on that wall were open format shelves. The whole atmosphere of the kitchen reminded Harry of the Burrow and he would bet that this cottage had belonged to them in some way.

To the left of the fireplace was a small faded green farmhouse table where Snape was sitting, drinking his morning cup of coffee. There were two place settings across from him, one with a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon and the other with a bowl of porridge, fruit, and granola.

"Morning," the young wizard said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and sitting down at the setting that also included the cup of his morning tablets.

"Sleep well?"

"Yeah," Harry said, a little surprised at that. Ever since they'd arrived at Shell Cottage, he had been sleeping the best in his life. There was something freeing about being there that he just couldn't figure out. Perhaps it was just the change of scenery - being somewhere completely different - that was good for him. Of course, all that might change when Dr. Swanson showed up for chemotherapy today. "I've been sleeping great here."

"It's the sea air," Snape said casually, "it's good for the mind and body."

"Happy Christmas Eve," Dudley called out from behind Harry, startling the young wizard slightly causing Harry to cough on his water.

"Happy..." He gave another small cough, nodding that he was alright as Snape watched him closely, "Christmas Eve."

"M'Sorry, Harry," Dudley quickly said, sitting down at the last place setting, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"S'ok, I'm alright," the Gryffindor reassured the other boy, then turned to Snape, "How is Dr. Swanson getting here?"

"Ah," Snape said animatedly, "she will not be administering your treatment today nor tomorrow. It will be Madam Pomfrey."

Harry didn't have to ask why; he knew it was for his and her own safety. While she wouldn't be able to say the location of the cottage as she wasn't the Secret Keeper, it was still risky to give a muggle that kind of information. It was probably for the best anyway, he much preferred the medi-witch over his doctor.

"What do you have this morning?" Dudley asked with a mouthful of toast.

"Erm, I think an IT and 2 hour IV," Harry replied. He looked towards Snape a little concerned, "can Madam Pomfrey do the IT alone?"

The Gryffindor vaguely remembered Healer Smithe walking the matron through the IT procedure, but going through the steps with a knowledgeable Healer next to her and doing it on her own was a big difference. He tried not to think of the consequences, that if she missed, she could damage his spinal cord. Now that he was going through the logistics in his head, maybe he would prefer Dr. Swanson after all.

His nerves didn't ease up after breakfast or when the medi-witch finally arrived with Professor McGonagall in tow who would be spending Christmas Eve and Christmas day with them. In addition to his medication, the two witches brought with them four small boxes which once enlarged contained various Christmas decorations for their tree. Since space in Shell Cottage was at a premium - including it's short ceiling, but it was something that actually calmed Harry's nerves as he always found the expansiveness of Grimmauld Place anxiety-inducing - the tree was short and narrow. It sat in the far corner of the sitting room near the window looking out on the front garden, where Harry guessed one could see it from the front door.

"We'll decorate the tree after dinner," Snape tucked the boxes underneath the the tree that was already filled with the brightly wrapped gifts that were ready to either exchange among each other or would be going back to Hogwarts with Madam Pomfrey to be mailed out from the owlery that afternoon.

"Actually," Harry spoke up, "it might be better to start this morning. These medications tend to hit me later in the day."

As when he was getting the IT done back home, the sofa was transfigured into an exam table where Harry nervously laid. The fact that he only had IT once a month was definitely one of the parts that made this phase easier - besides the extra three days between treatments - but it meant that he was more nervous during the procedure. He found himself shaking more than usual which was not at all helping Madam Pomfrey confidently do the procedure for the first time alone. It eventually took both Snape and McGonagall to hold the young wizard completely still.

With only two hours of the IV, Madam Pomfrey was going to wait with them instead of going back to Hogwarts and having to turn right around. She was sitting on the sofa, which had been converted back, with Harry as Snape set up the wireless that came in one of the boxes from Hogwarts, and tuned it into a station playing wizarding Christmas music, none of which Harry actually knew.

Feeling antsy with everyone sitting around the small sitting room, Harry pulled his IV stand along with him, and opened a second box from Madam Pomfrey full of garland and ornaments and started to decorate the Christmas tree. Dudley followed suit less than a minute later, and Harry gave a small smile at the normalcy of the act between them. So much had happened this year that if the young Gryffindor thought too much about it, it would completely overwhelm him. He couldn't be any further from where he was this time last year when he'd spent the Holiday with Sirius and the Weasley's at Grimmauld Place. All the people were different now and Shell Cottage was the antithesis of Grimmauld Place; small, bright, and relaxing instead of big, dark, and a bit menacing. How could one event - two if he counted Snape's change of realities - cause such a chain of events for him to end up putting Christmas decorations on a tree with Dudley and Snape, McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey all enjoying the Christmas cheer.

Somewhere within their impromptu celebration, drawing away attention from his chemotherapy, Harry found himself missing the people who were missing: Sirius, Ron, Hermione, the Weasley's, Remus, even Draco if he was being completely honest with himself. For the last six years he'd been surrounded by friends, who were his substitute family, and now it seemed they'd all gone their separate ways. Harry didn't even know if Hermione was at the Burrow for Christmas this year - he had forgotten to ask either of them - and tonight was a full-moon spotlighting the reason why Harry could never fully depend on Remus no matter how much at one point he had wanted to.

They finished decorating the Christmas tree about a half hour before his chemotherapy was completed, and Harry spent the remainder of the time laying on the sofa admiring their work. The tree tips were covered in frost, giving the impression it had been freshly cut from somewhere near Hogwarts though Harry knew it was an enchantment that created the sparkling effect. Rather than the multi-colored fake stands of lights he would have seen Aunt Petunia cover the tree back at Privet Drive in, they used tiny candles that would safely stay lit - he had to reassure Dudley of this fact - and the young wizard couldn't wait to see their soft glow flickering across the walls and ceiling when night was finally upon them. Holly vines with small berries had been used in place of the gaudy plastic garland he'd too often seen on muggle Christmas trees in the past giving a nice contrasting red against the deep green of the tree. The ornaments were different too. Rather than the brightly colored spheres Dudley would have been accustomed to, there was a set of wooden shapes and animals that they hung by twine. Each figure was painted and Harry wasn't sure if it had been done by hand or magic. His favorite of them all were the big golden stars that reflected the lights from the candles and shimmered around the tree. It wasn't anywhere near as flashy as the muggle equivalent, but it was far more relaxing to sit and watch.

Between the tree, the candle filled wreaths that were brought from the castle and placed around the room, an enchanted gingerbread house sitting on the table in front of the sofa with a small gingerbread family walking around the frosting lawn, and the joyful Christmas music playing from the wireless, Harry had almost forgotten about his chemotherapy until he ended up sick and occupying their only lavatory. Snape assisted him throughout the day, as the professor always did, and while Harry had every reason to feel gloomy about abruptly excusing himself from the festivities, the pure happiness surrounding him made it impossible to be anything but happy.

Sometime after lunch - which Harry did not sit at the table for - the Gryffindor had decided to go out and sit on the back porch overlooking the beach with every intention of watching the sunset. He was taken by surprise when he managed to fall asleep in the deceivingly comfortable chair, wrapped in his red blanket, listening to the constant ebb and flow of the sea that had gently rocked him to sleep. He awoke to a fuzzy darkness surrounding him with the lanterns hanging along the railing casting an orange glow. Harry startled when there was movement from the chair next to his own.

"Hey, mate," he didn't need the light of the sun or his glasses to recognize the voice as Ron's.

"What're you doing here?" Harry asked sitting up and grabbing his glasses from the table between the two wizards.

"I asked Mum if we could come see you for Christmas and she brought us over." The red head explained. "I think 'Mione's inside baking with Ginny and Mum, and Dad's deep in conversation with Dudley. I have a feeling they're going to be at it for a while. I figured I'd come out and enjoy the quiet."

Harry gave his friend a warm smile. It had been far too long since just the two of them had any real time together. Ron had been spending a lot of his free time with Lavender and he'd guessed that was normal for a sixteen year old with his first girlfriend. Of course, he didn't have any experience - either of his own nor from any adults - Snape wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type to ask questions about girls or about a friend with his first girlfriend.

I wonder if we talked about that kind of stuff in his old reality?

It was a very logical question to ask. Each day their relationship was growing and changing, he found himself getting more curious about their other life together; especially after seeing the professor's memories during the Occlumency attack.

The two best friends continued to sit outside on the porch talking like none of their many challenges had happened between them this year. Ron filled Harry in on the ins and outs of life this year in the tower and about how Quidditch practices were going; apparently while Katie was a nicer captain than Oliver or Angelina, he thought she was a bit too nice and it would be a tougher year for all of them because of it. Ron asked if he'd be able to play next year and Harry had no clue. Theoretically, by maintenance phase he would technically only have chemotherapy once a month, except now that he and Snape were talking about how to handle his magic, if things went well, he probably wouldn't be at Hogwarts next year. Not wanting to ruin their great mood, he just told the other Gryffindor that given how new all this was, he was taking everything month-by-month. It wasn't a complete lie, at least that's what he justified to himself.

They had no idea how much time passed - it could have been fifteen minutes or an hour - before Hermione walked out with three plates of food floating in front of her. Being at school this whole time, Harry had forgotten that the witch was already seventeen and could do magic outside of school.

"Now you're just showing off," Ron complained, grabbing two of the plates - the largest and the smallest - handing the smaller one to Harry.

"Hey," Harry added while pushing the food around his plate, "I'm like the last one in our whole year to turn seventeen, and by then I won't even have any magic to use yet, so you have zero room to complain."

The three friends started laughing, at what Harry wasn't sure. He found that the more he talked about his choice to deplete his top core in an effort to preserve the block and the magic below it, the better he felt about the whole thing. It was temporary, so if the cancer or getting rid of the soul fragment didn't kill him, he would eventually be able to enter the magical world again and that was a comforting thought.

"I'm not showing off, Ronald," the bushy haired witch said. "You would have done it the same way."

Elbowing Harry's chair, Ron said, "I know who's gonna be doing us favors from now on."

Again, the three teens started laughing. What started out as a day of chemotherapy and tree decorating had quickly turned into a full-blown Christmas party. His plate had a very small serving of roasted turkey, boiled potatoes, and peas compared to his two friends' that not only had larger servings but added glazed carrots, buttered rolls, and cranberry sauce. It all smelled delicious and Harry could just imagine what Mrs. Weasley went through to make it - deciding it probably wasn't Snape that had made this huge meal - but his stomach was still cramping from the chemotherapy, so he just nibbled here and there.

The trio were interrupted by the sound of cannons coming from inside the cottage, followed shortly by Dudley running from the house wearing a neon-colored clown's hat.

"Have you guys seen these?!"

Harry shook his head at the sight of his cousin's full embrace on wizarding traditions, such as their Christmas Crackers. Uncle Vernon would have immediately turned his customary ugly puce color at just the thought of Dudley spending Christmas in a full wizarding house that was hidden from both muggles and wizards alike.

This time Harry wasn't so lucky, and after they all calmed down from laughing at Dudley's newest wardrobe additions, he got up from his chair - missing the concerned look from his friends - and ran into the house, straight to the lavatory. Having nothing in his stomach besides the measly bites of turkey and potatoes, most of what came up was bile followed by dry heaving, but that didn't make the episode any less unpleasant. The young wizard leaned back against the wall and drew his knees up to his chest, before resting his forehead on his knees. Lost in his thoughts, Harry didn't hear the knock on the door.

"Harry?"

Snape very carefully opened the door, then satisfied that he would not hit the Gryffindor in the tiny lavatory, opened it the rest of the way. Harry heard the sounds of the party coming through the door for however long it took the man to walk through before promptly closing it behind him.

"Are you alright?" The professor draped Harry's red blanket around his shoulders in the same way he always did, and then kneeled down to Harry's level on the floor.

"Delightful."

Furrowing his brows, Snape didn't have to say another word about it.

"I'll be fine," Harry eventually claimed, but they both knew he was lying. "Just give me a minute, ok?"

"Of course," Snape said, "take your time."

As efficiently as the former spy had entered the lavatory, he'd left. At this point, they both knew the drill. It took Harry ten minutes and another round of vomiting before he emerged from the lavatory into the bustling cottage. Given its small size, Harry could easily see or hear everyone from his vantage point. Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and Mrs. Weasley were all around the sitting room talking about something Harry couldn't hear over the loud conversations from all different directions. Snape looked as if he were, at some point, part of their group, but instead was watching Harry, trying to decide where to go next. Mr. Weasley, the twins, and Ginny were in the tiny dining room and while Harry couldn't see them, he could hear the rambunctious laughter of Fred or George above anything else coming from that direction. The door to his right, that led back out to the back porch, opened and in walked Ron, Dudley, and Hermione. The Gryffindor witch wrapped her arm around Harry's shoulders and walked with him into the sitting room with a soft, "come on, Harry," while the other two teens brought their plates to the kitchen.

Upon seeing Harry awake for the first time that night, Mrs. Weasley gave him a big hug, the kind that reminded him of the time at the hospital wing after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, and gestured him to the sofa to lay down. He could feel her own grief over the first Christmas without one of her children and through the hug, she tried to relieve him of his own guilt from his role in that situation.

Never did he think that this many people would fit in the cottage, but he was filled with elation and gratitude to be surrounded by them all. For a kid that grew up as an orphan in a neglectful - at best - and abusive - at worst - family, he really was lucky to have so many different people there for him now.

He fell in and out of sleep throughout the rest of the night, completely oblivious to the noises around him, until Hermione woke him up to tell him that Mr. and Mrs Weasley, the twins, and Ginny were going back to the Burrow, leaving Ron and Hermione there with Harry that night. He hadn't quite thought about the sleeping arrangements until Snape offered for him to sleep on the sofa, allowing him to be closer to the lavatory, and leaving his room for Hermione. McGonagall transfigured a camp bed for Ron in the sitting room before going back to Hogwarts, promising to return with Madam Pomfrey in the morning. The trio of Gryffindors stayed up in the glow of the Christmas tree, but to Harry it had felt like an absolutely long day and he was ready for it to end. He didn't make it long after Ron's story of receiving a sweetheart necklace from Lavender, which ended up giving Harry a good laugh to end an overall good day.

~~~~SS~~~~

Wednesday 25, December 1996

Severus hadn't expected yesterday to turn into a full Christmas Party when Molly asked if they could stop by to see Harry. At that point, the Gryffindor had been fast asleep on the back porch after spending most of the late morning and afternoon feeling ill from his treatment and he had thought they would maybe stay until he'd woken up. What he'd gotten instead was enough food to feed all the students who stayed at Hogwarts, and a cottage full of red-headed Weasleys. Since the cottage was technically theirs, he was proud of himself for not making too much of a fuss over it. At the end of the day, all that mattered to him was that Harry was happy. Even though he disagreed with Harry's idea to decorate the tree yesterday morning, he could admit that the act seemed to lift the young wizard's spirit from his holiday treatments and at least before the medications caught up to him, Harry seemed to have a good start to Christmas. While the day was far busier than he'd wanted, it ended up being everything he'd wanted for Harry and he was filled with warmth as he heard the three Gryffindors laughing long after he'd gone to bed.

Today, Christmas Day, he had nothing planned for them to do outside of the Christmas gifts he had and an extremely light Christmas dinner. Mrs. Weasley was coming over early to collect Ron and Hermione to celebrate back at the Burrow, and then Minerva and Poppy would be over again for Harry's treatment. In an effort to keep Harry's mood light for the day, he'd also invited Lupin and Tonks - who apparently had been helping the werewolf after his monthly transformations - but with the full-moon only last night, he wasn't sure how the man would feel today.

It was still dark when he went down the stairs on his way to start breakfast, being as quiet as possible, trying not to wake the two boys he still expected to be sleeping in the sitting room. He was surprised to find that while Ronald Weasley was completely passed out on the camp bed, loudly snoring and he was sure drooling, Harry was nowhere to be seen. A short walk to the lavatory yielded no success and neither did peeking his head out the back door to see if he were outside. The last place to check in the tiny downstairs, was the kitchen.

As a former spy, still honed in his unique observation skills, he should have been more aware of the noises coming from the kitchen, along with the smell of tea as he approached the doorway. Being as careful as possible, he opened the door, but it didn't stop the loud creak from the old wooden frame, startling the young wizard and causing him to drop the tea cup he'd been carrying.

"Shite," Harry whispered as the cup shattered to the floor at his bare feet.

With a wave of his wand, Severus had the cup cleaned up and back on the table, ready for more tea.

"You're up rather early," he said to the teen, "especially after being up so late last night."

Harry shuffled his feet, "Yeah… well, I slept a lot during the day yesterday… and I just woke up."

The way Harry said it, the professor questioned to himself if the young wizard had issues sleeping after chemotherapy. He'd certainly not mentioned anything previously, however knowing this Harry as well as he did now, that probably meant he was having a more difficult time sleeping than he let on. Tabling the observation for later, he looked out one of the panoramic windows and caught sight of the sky's first changes into the dawn hour.

"Let's go sit outside and watch the sunrise," Severus suggested taking two cups of tea and gesturing for Harry to follow him.

While the sun wouldn't actually rise over the sea from their location, it was still a breathtaking sight to watch the sky change from indigo, to lavender, as the stars began to fade. It would be a perfect way for the two of them to start Christmas together.

They sat next to each other, with the small table between them holding their tea. Harry was wrapped in his red blanket, a heating charm non-verbally placed upon it, and his winter hat covering his head to help keep the cold air away from his fragile body. The last thing either of them needed was for the young wizard to get sick again. Severus knew it was bound to happen, but if they could get into the next phase, Harry would be using his magic again and they'd be able to use potions to combat anything that may try to bring him down. After that, he'd be in Maintenance Phase and most of their worries would be behind them; at least that's what they're told. In reality, it would be far too long before either of them could breathe easy knowing the cancer was far behind them.

"Did you go skiing?" Harry asked after swallowing a sip of his tea, "with my mum and her family?"

He knew the question was bound to come up - they hadn't talked about it after all - nevertheless, it caught him off guard.

"Yes I did," the professor answered, "I was absolutely awful at the sport, but we had a good time. It was one of my favorite Christmases until the adoption."

"I didn't realize you were that close to be invited to go with her on holiday."

He could hear the sorrow in the young Gryffindor's voice. It was no secret that they'd both grown up in too similar of households, but Harry was technically not allowed to leave his relatives' home; at least not until Severus had gotten involved. He couldn't just go to Borrow the minute Molly invited him, and even when he did go, in the back of his young mind he'd know he was putting the caring family in danger.

"You mother and I were best friends," Severus reiterated the fact he knew he'd told the child many times already, as if that explained everything. In reality, that's what he'd told himself when he didn't want to admit his own feelings about Lily.

The two of them sat out there in the cold, as a warm silence fell upon them.

"Happy Christmas, Severus," Harry pulled out an envelope and handed it to the man next to him, "I wanted to give you my gift before chemo or anyone else got here."

Holding the large muggle-like envelope in his hands, Severus turned it over several times. It was sealed in the back, so he slipped his finger under the seal and broke it open. His heart was racing as he pulled out the first of two thick papers within the envelope. It was white, and turning it over he was greeted by a sketch of Harry and himself standing at the edge of a beach. It was the picture he'd seen glimpses of periodically back home as Harry had been creating it. The scene was drawn from behind, Severus easily identified by his long black hair and Harry by his own mop of black hair sticking up in all directions. Both wizards had their trousers rolled up to their knees as they stood in the ankle deep water looking out at the sun setting on the horizon. Severus had his arm casually draped over Harry's shoulders. The entire picture was so detailed, it could have been a picture of the two of them there at Shell Cottage.

Placing the picture down in his lap, holding it so the wind dared not take it away from him, he let go of a shaky breath and pulled out the other paper. This one was a thick photograph material, but it was completely blank. Turning it over in his hands, the back was blank too. He gave Harry a look of confusion.

"Point your wand at it," Harry said, encouraging Snape to draw his ebony wand, "and say, 'Asphodel and Wormwood'."

The meaning of those two words wasn't lost on the professor no matter how distracted he was by the previous gift and this mysterious one in his hands. It didn't matter that he'd given himself plenty of time to prepare because he could not have prepared himself for this. Tapping his wand on the thick paper, he said the two words that would forever be ingrained in his mind. Slowly, a picture started to form across the page. At first it was hard to ascertain what it was since there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the pattern at which it appeared, but after about thirty seconds the nature of it was obvious and it both hurt and warmed him inside.

It was a picture - a true wizarding, moving picture - of himself and Harry from the memory they'd seen of decorating their Christmas tree. All the details were there, from the two steaming cups of hot chocolate, to the tall bookcases surrounding them in the sitting room at their home on Spinner's End that this Harry wouldn't know anything about, and last, but definitely not least, the two of them, father and son. It was played in a loop where Severus tossing an ornament back into the box, then sat next to his son picking up his own cup of hot chocolate. He then reached over and started messing up Harry's already messy black hair before they settled next to each other and it started all over again.

"Thank you," he managed to choke out from his frozen voice. "How did you…"

Harry gave a small smile which was easily seen now that the golden rays of the sun had started to fill the sky.

"Colin Creevey owes me a dozen favors," he replied, "or more like he'd do a dozen favors for me. Either way, I asked if it was possible to develop a picture from a memory and he put me in touch with someone, who I made sure used the utmost discretion when creating it. Hermione helped with the charm. To hide it, you point your wand, and say 'Skiing'."

It was done exactly as James' map, but Severus didn't care one bit. Now, he had at least one piece of his old life that he could see, and while it didn't fill the aching gap in his soul, he didn't find himself looking over at the teen across from him and wishing he were his Harry. They were two very different boys and he loved them both in their own unique ways.

He was speechless, which was highly abnormal for him, so instead of words, he used his wand to summon his own gift to the Gryffindor.

He had a difficult time deciding what to get the young wizard, something he did not struggle with in his old reality. He'd finally settled on the one thing he could give to Harry that no one else could possibly give the child. It had been risky to go back to Spinner's End when so many Death Eaters in this reality knew of its location. None of them would be able to get past the highly advanced wards, however that only protected him once he entered the dilapidated structure. Figuring it had been long enough since his defection from the Dark Lord to no longer necessitate a constant watch in his old home, he took the risk and went there earlier this month.

He was filled with such an odd feeling when he walked into his counterpart's home, the same walls and structure that when he personally last left it, it was filled with the life he and Harry had built together. This house at Spinner's End had never seen the vibrant energy from the Gryffindor living there and its state of disrepair was evidence of the occupant's sad and lonely life. He lived in complete solitude after simply erasing all evidence of his mother and father's presence, and the rest of the home was left as it had been, with a notable exception to the converted Potion's laboratory - with an aura around it of the nefarious potions that had been created there for the Dark Lord - and the sitting room, which had been updated with texts more relevant to his current lifestyle.

In his old reality, what he was looking for would have been stored in his wardrobe in the bedroom he'd taken over from his parents, yet somehow he guessed the Severus here would not have moved them from their original location. Therefore, he'd gone straight to his old bedroom - Harry's bedroom where he was from - and pulled up the loose floorboard to reveal the box of all the things he'd treasured as a child. Most of them had to do with Lily, and what he was actually there to get, but there were other things that hurt just as much to remember; like the time his mother was actually proud of him for his perfect completion of the Draught of the Living Death back in his sixth year. He had been astonished to receive her letter of praise after she'd "heard through the floo" that he was the only student to ever have completed such a task. Pushing that aside, he collected what he'd come for and went back to Hogwarts trying not to wonder if he'd ever get to bring Harry back here and make it their home again.

Now, sitting back on the porch with Poppy and Minerva set to arrive in only a half hour, he handed the green - but not Slytherin green - wrapped box to the young wizard feeling more vulnerable than he had any other time since July. It was illogical, he knew, because there was no way Harry wouldn't appreciate what he was about to receive, but vulnerability was never logical. As the lid was opened, the professor was watching those emerald eyes hoping to find some kind of indication that he had been on the right path when choosing what to get him, and he was rewarded with the pure look of hope, mixed with a touch of grief, within them.

Harry picked up the various muggle pictures of Lily throughout her childhood, from the age of nine decorating cookies at Christmas time, to the age of thirteen standing in front of the beach in Aberdaron with her parents - Harry's grandparents that he was sure the young wizard had never seen before. There were various pictures of her in her school robes taken in the corridors between classes or out by the black lake, and one of her at her on her wedding day he only had because Mrs. Evans had sent it to him. All of these lead up to the one at the bottom of the pile that he'd practically forgotten about until he, himself, had gotten to the bottom of his own box. It was the only picture that had been crumbled from his rage when he'd received it, and today he was embarrassed that the lines could still easily be seen in the duplicate he'd made for the young wizard. It was a picture of Lily, looking more radiant than ever, holding a small bundle wrapped in a blue blanket from the day of Harry's birth. He had been surprised when he received it along with a personalized handwritten note to him announcing the birth of her son, Harry James Potter. He'd never responded to her; the pain had still been too fresh in his mind, and he always assumed he would have plenty of time to make amends. That time ran out far too soon.

"Are these yours?" Harry asked, unsure of himself. "I can't…"

"They're all duplicates," he reassured the young wizard, "these are now yours."

The Gryffindor couldn't remove his eyes from the box of plentiful pictures, "Thank you, Severus."

"Happy Christmas, Harry," the professor said, reaching his hand over and placing it on the young wizard's forearm. They sat in a companionable silence between them as the light continued to grow across the beach. Neither wizard wanted to move, knowing that the other residents inside the cottage were likely already up and lively and that meant they would need to rejoin the rest of the world. If only they could stay there, on the porch at Shell Cottage, and completely forget about everything else they had going on; like the Dark Lord, Horcruxes, and starting the second day of this latest round of chemotherapy.