~~~~SS~~~~

"This is going to get us sent straight to Azkaban, you know," Nadine complained while they both sat over the workbench and Severus wrote down what he remembered from the ritual in his old reality. In hindsight, he was ashamed of himself for even considering using this on his son. At the time, lost in the freshness of the news that Harry was dying and his own grief from it, this seemed like a fully viable option, however now it was barbaric and cruel to both parties.

"Offering the option of the ritual alone will not send you Azkaban." He was really getting tired of her negativity. She may not feel the need to escape, but he wanted to do whatever it took to take down the Dark Lord.

"And who do you think will be making these incisions and collecting the chalices of blood?" She rhetorically asked. "How do you even know about this anyways- actually, don't tell me." Severus glared at her without lifting his head and she intelligently dropped that line of thinking. "How do you expect to offer this as a solution if you don't remember all of it?"

Having broken the last of his already anxious nerves, he turned around to face the healer, and in a his most intimidating 'I can't believe I have to deal with your idiocrasy' voice, said, "First, you're being held captive by the darkest wizard of our time, I don't foresee you having any difficulties convincing the Wizengamot that you were forced to partake in the ritual. Thus, you will not go to Azkaban.

"Second, I don't necessarily need to have the instructions written verbatim. I guarantee you the Dark Lord has enough resources in dark magic available to him to find the ritual and will verify its validity well before you're asked to make a single incision."

The healer huffed indignantly and left to sit back on her mattress on the right side of the small room. There was a painful silence that almost suffocated the pair, only broken by the scratching of Severus's quill as he feverishly wrote out every detail he could remember.

"Why do you still call him the Dark Lord?"

Severus stopped writing the second the question was asked; there was fear in her voice that chilled him inside. How long had she been afraid of him? Since the moment she saw his dark mark? Had she thought he'd been sent there to do what, spy on her? Hopefully taking a good dozen curses in front of her had relieved any doubts she may have had about him, but as much as he wanted to, he could not ignore her question. In addition to building a plan to take down the Dark Lord and creating allies within the manor, he needed to have trust between the two of them which would not be achievable if she was afraid of him being a Death Eater. For the rest of his life, people would judge and fear him at just the sight of his mark.

Treading carefully, trying not to intentionally disrupt the delicate balance they'd managed to build between them, the former Death Eater took a cleansing breath before lamely answering, "Old habits die hard."

"Well," she retorted back, "it makes you sound like you're still one of them."

He didn't necessarily expect that answer to be acceptable, he had to try though.

"I don't find it much different then how others refer to him as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or the childish You-Know-Who," he challenged back.

"It's completely different," the healer retorted, almost insulted herself, "you're giving him respect through that name and he deserves no such thing."

She was right, it was all about respect, however he wasn't about to admit it to her. Each new Death Eater - marked or unmarked - quickly learned that using any other name than "Dark Lord" or "My Lord" was a valid punishable offense. Severus was lucky and learned quickly, though he'd seen many new followers not pick it up as easily.

"It's ingrained early on," he decided to answer with, "and it's as simple as that, those who adapt early have a far less painful start to their servitude than those who do not."

The implied message was loud and clear to the healer who stared back at him with her sympathetic blue eyes that reminded him too much of the appointment where they learned Harry's cancer was terminal. It made him uncomfortable and he lost his focus on the task at hand. Dropping his quill onto the parchment, he walked to his own mattress and unceremoniously dropped onto it, leaning his back against the wall with his legs spread out in front of him and his ankles crossed. Closing his eyes, he let his exhaustion from the odd working hours, constant worrying, and painful torture he just endured flood over him.

"How did he manage to get Leukemia?" She asked the professor as if she knew he had the answer; which he did, but there was no way she would know that. "Seems a bit odd to me that in the same year the Boy-Who-Lived and You-Know-Who get the same very rare muggle disease."

Raising a single eyebrow and with it cracking his eye opened, he replied, "You're just full of demanding questions today, aren't you?"

She gave a small chuckle at his sarcastic response, "It's not everyday I have a defected Death Eater for a roommate. I figured I should take advantage of it while I can."

He narrowed his eyes questioning to himself how many roommates she'd had besides himself and Matthew, but then realized he didn't really want to know that answer. With any luck, he would be the last because they'd be getting out. Turning his thoughts back to her question, he considered how honest he should be in answering it.

"The Dark-" he paused taking into consideration the conversation they'd previously had, "he used Harry Potter's blood when resurrecting his body. It gave him certain… benefits that he could not have achieved with another's blood. No one, from either side, expected Leukemia to be hiding in that blood."

He wasn't surprised when she quickly made the connection, her specialty was muggle diseases after and she knew Leukemia was a blood cancer.

"How's Harry been handling his treatments?" She carefully asked, "from what I read he chose the muggle medications?"

Severus nodded his head, "You don't stop asking questions do you?"

"Guilty," she nervously replied, "I was a Ravenclaw after all. And for some reason, since I read that Skeeter article, I've felt oddly connected to his case. I mean, I'm surprised I wasn't called in when he went to St. Mungo's for his diagnosis and then-"

"That's because he was not taken to St. Mungo's. I took him to a muggle hospital where a friend of mine works, a wizard practicing in the muggle world," the professor interrupted. He briefly considered the fact that as Ravenclaws, Healer Walker may have known Dr Swanson's muggleborn older brother, but he chose to table that inquiry for a later time. "And he's doing well with them. He should be starting the last, but longest, phase later this month."

The grief could be heard seeping out of his voice and he didn't even try to hide it. This was supposed to be a time where they could have finally fallen into some sort of long-term normalcy. Until now, their time had been broken up by a new round of chemotherapy every week - or sometimes a bit longer - and now that they would have actually had time to adjust to regular living, it had been ripped away from him. He had told Harry he would take the young wizard to Godric's Hollow to see where his parents had been laid to rest. It was completely inappropriate now given the circumstances, but it was something he had wanted to do for the Gryffindor. If Minerva, Albus, or even Molly Weasley hadn't thought about taking him as of yet, they certainly wouldn't now.

Then there was Healer Walker's declaration that she felt a connection to Harry in this reality having no idea about her true connection to him in the old reality. The professor had been keeping track of the deja vu experiences that had been occurring in a higher frequency lately and this would be a large one to add. As the dates ticked off and they approached the two dates he feared the most this year - 10 April, and 16 May; the day they got Harry's terminal diagnosis and the day he died, respectively - Severus had been getting increasingly nervous. No matter how much he tried to stop it, the grief would settle into him on each of those days. It was bound to happen, and likely would every year on those anniversaries regardless of what happened in this reality, yet he couldn't help thinking the deja vu he'd been having was telling him something would happen on those dates here, and he was dreading finding out whatever that was.

"So now we wait?" Nadine gestured her head towards the potions bench where his crude procedure for the Blood Cleansing Ritual was hastily written out. She'd aptly picked up on his sorrow and dropped the difficult subjects.

"For now, I continue making potions, the correct way," he said, closing his eyes again having no intentions of starting them when the Dark Lord wouldn't need them for another week, "and we wait until we're called upon for an answer."

Wednesday 19, March 1997

For Severus, he wouldn't see outside of his cell again until Wednesday night, which was generous considering there wasn't really any reason for him to ever need to leave the small room since Nadine could deliver the potions each week alongside her daily visit with the dark wizard. In any other circumstances, he would have found the constant visits with the healer amusing because even Harry didn't need to see his doctor daily - in either reality - especially when he wasn't having any treatments. The fact that the Dark Lord required such attention was a bit humorous. What wasn't humorous was the Cruciatus Curse he was subjected to the moment he was forced to kneel by Dolohov before Voldemort; permanently staying in his cell was looking better and better.

The former Death Eater didn't get a good look around the room, but did take a quick notice of the participants for whatever he was brought there for. In addition to Dolohov, who was the Death Eater to show up and collect him that night, Lucius, Bellatrix and Rodolphus, Yaxley, Crabbe, and Goyle all stood behind the Dark Lord. Rabastan's lack of presence didn't go unnoticed; he had been tasked at keeping a close surveillance - in a way the professor still hadn't figured out - on Draco during his time back at Hogwarts. None of the Death Eaters were in the traditional Death Eater attire, showing that this little rendezvous was nothing official; it was simply a time to they could come torture their traitor. Inwardly, Severus groaned, refusing to show any outward weakness to the group surrounding him. With his leg still recovering from last Saturday's break, his heart rate increased in anticipation for what they had in store for him.

"What have you brought for me?" The Dark Lord demanded. No further explanation was required.

"In five days?" The former spy sarcastically asked. It wasn't the smartest answer and it earned him a stinging hex to his shoulder. If the Dark Lord kept this up, he'd be lucky to be able to finish preparing the ingredients for Saturday's potions. "There's nothing I can do to the potions to still keep the efficacy of the regimen and speed up the results-" he saw the ivory wand lift and he sped up his talking, "-however there is another solution you could use alongside the potions."

"I've always found it inspiring how a little pain can make people remember the smallest, yet usually most important, details," the serpentine wizard started to circle the professor, "continue, Severus."

"It's a Blood Cleansing Ritual," he pulled out the parchment he'd been slowly adding to as he remembered details during the week, preparing for when this exact time arrived.

"Putting your new… position… to good use, I see," the Dark Lord took the parchment and handed it to Lucius who walked forward upon hearing the, most likely familiar, ritual name. Unfortunately, the Malfoy patriarch would not find the tome holding this particular ritual in his possession as it was still in Severus's quarters at Hogwarts; likely without the blonde's knowledge.

"Repeating this ritual every other night," Severus continued to explain every so often making eye contact with Lucius, "will help aid the potions and cut down the time frame you'll be dependent on them."

The silver eyes staring back at him narrowed, but did not call him out on the lie. To Severus, this was another step in solidifying the partnership between the two of them. This was good, he wasn't lying when he'd told Nadine that they needed allies on this side if they had any chance of escaping. First and foremost, the former spy was a realist and knew the Order's chances of getting in here alone were small and with the Dark Lord having plans to take over the Ministry, the Aurors wouldn't be any more helpful than the Death Eaters. Ultimately, they needed more than the Patriarch, especially considering he may go into hiding in the, hopefully very near, future, but sticking to solving one problem at a time, this was a good start; Lucius would open the doors to other potential allies.

"I am familiar with this ritual, my Lord," Lucius said while looking over the parchment. "I can start validating and compiling the necessary tools and assuming we don't need to-" he paused for dramatic effect, "-forcibly secure a host with the proper Astrological requirements, it should not take much time to prepare."

The professor had to use his Occlumency to keep the guilt out of his mind and off of his face. He had no idea what the other Death Eaters and their families - the first people Lucius and the Dark Lord would look at, thankfully Severus himself was half-blood otherwise he would be bled to death over this - were astrologically, but he knew for a fact that Draco was a perfect match. Hopefully the young Slytherin would be well hidden by the time anyone found out and Voldemort would have no one to blame except himself for sending the teenager back to secure Harry. A wave of sorrow filled the professor, even as he was kneeling on the floor in the dining room, for his young protégé. If his duress signal worked - assuming they placed the young Slytherin in a room with an ink pot at some point in the last three days - there would be no way for Albus to signal that he'd heard the message and the isolation from that unknown was more than enough to mess with even the best operative's mind. From that point on, the Order would not be able to do or say anything they didn't want to end up in the Dark Lord's hands, and that would include easing Draco's anxiety that he'd been heard and a new exit strategy was in the works. Until he was released, the teen wouldn't know who was on his side and who was against him. It would be detrimental to a scared - though he wouldn't admit to such - sixteen year old.

The circle of Death Eaters closed in on him as the potential solution to the Dark Lord's quandary had been, at least for now, solved and their traitor had served his current purpose. Not one of them cared that he still needed to make the potions each week and so he did the only thing he could in the situation: he clenched his jaw in preparation for whatever may come next.

~~~~HP~~~~

As much as Harry hated to admit it, the muggle sleeping aid Dr Swanson suggested helped to take some of the edge off and fight the insomnia the young wizard hadn't even realized had become such a problem.

By Thursday, he was well rested and recovered enough from Saturday's chemotherapy for the reality to sink in that he was almost officially in Maintenance and didn't have any chemotherapy - tablets, IV, or IT - until the day before Easter, which didn't bother him nearly as much as his Christmas treatments did. His friends wanted to celebrate, and he really did too, but he kept coming back to the fact that deep down he wanted Snape there. It was like the fact that the man had been taken so quickly away from him - not unlike his parents who had been targeted because of the professor - that now he found himself wishing he was there. Somehow the Gryffindor knew that Snape would understand his reluctance to celebrate this latest milestone and would have known exactly what to say to make Harry feel better about the whole thing, not to mention he'd have plenty to add about Harry's lack of magic and school schedule. Overall, he had one major win to celebrate, but too many other negatives that kept him boggled down. At least he could sleep though and for that he was happy muggles came up with a non-addictive sleep aid; maybe wizards could learn from whatever was inside that half a tablet he took each night this week.

Living with McGonagall came with its own set of challenges and adjustments. It felt very different moving in with his guardian than first living with Snape at either Privet Drive or in the dungeons. The biggest adjustment, and yet one that should not have surprised him as much as it did, was that living with a witch - and an elderly one at that - had far more sentimental undertones than he was used to. Still immensely grateful for her taking him in and all of her help, he felt guilty every time her sad eyes saw him pushing his dinner across his plate or each morning when she placed his morning medications next to his breakfast. It was like he was constantly letting down the grandmother he'd never had before.

Until the week away, the young wizard hadn't realized how comfortable he'd gotten in Snape's quarters. Though he didn't mind staying with McGonagall- even starting to like the actual windows instead of the enchanted ones - and the layout being so similar to Snape's should have helped him adjust, he found himself feeling homesick for the dungeons and it frustrated him. He wanted to be angry at Snape - he was angry at the man - for not caring that he was about to kill a child so a megalomaniac could take over the wizarding world. Instead, Harry found himself missing whatever it was he'd managed to build with the professor and no matter how many times he tried to explain his consternation to his friends, they just couldn't understand. They all had a family built on a foundation of unconditional love; there was nothing Ron or his parents could ever do that wouldn't be forgiven between them, and Harry never had that; he never would have that unless he somehow survived all of this and managed to have a child of his own someday.

Those were the thoughts he was plagued with all day Thursday as he tried to keep his wandering mind occupied in the midst of not having classes any longer. Dr Swanson fully released him from quarantine as of yesterday, however Harry had no real inclination to leave. With no classes to attend - though McGonagall insisted he would have a set schedule of private lessons to fill his time after the Easter holiday - and not in the mood for the crowded Great Hall, he hung around the professor's quarters sketching most of the day or trying to find something interesting to read from the small library in the sitting room. Though it was nowhere near as impressive in size as Snape's personal library, it had more than just reference texts and journals giving the young wizard some hope in finding a way to pass the time before the holiday where he fully intended to spend it with his friends before Maintenance started; maybe even getting to spend a night or two sleeping in the Tower.

Normally, each night McGonagall stopped by shortly after dinner to check on Harry before heading out for what the Gryffindor wizard assumed was an Order meeting to help find Snape, often not returning until after he'd gone to bed. On that night though, his guardian had come in with Moody limping in her wake, after Harry had just finished his own dinner and was sitting on the sofa - he preferred the one on the left, which looked towards where the enchanted window would have been back home, or in the dungeons - sketching a picture of himself with his parents. Until everything that had happened with Snape, the young wizard had avoided drawing this specific group because of the intense sorrow it filled him with inside. He'd wanted his parents by him so many times since his Leukemia diagnosis and seeing a modern picture of the three of them was more than he thought he could handle. However, now he invited in the grief and wanted it to settle into his chest. No one would ever understand how "right" it felt to sometimes just let it consume him.

"Hello, Harry," McGonagall greeted him as she walked through the sitting room towards the office behind him, stopping just past the sofa, "how are you feeling today?"

"I'm alright," he answered honestly, covering up his sketch from the two Order members. Moody gave him an odd look before nodding his head as his own greeting and Harry remembered that it was really his first time seeing the former auror since his diagnosis. The only benefit to being the Boy-Who-Lived was it gave him plenty of practice in people staring at him, only now instead of people staring at his scar - that he used to be able to cover with his long raven hair - it was his almost skeletal frame, pallid drawn face, and bald head that drew the unwanted attention. At least he didn't have the feeding tube any longer, and Dr Swanson had said there was a good chance his hair would start to grow back during Maintenance Phase, so overall things were looking up.

"Did you eat dinner?" The Transfiguration Professor practically lectured. Harry smiled at Moody's hard eye roll behind the witch's back.

"Yes, I ate dinner," he replied, then after seeing the next question in her eyes, he quickly added, "really, I did. I promise."

"Good," she patted his shoulder, giving Harry that grandmother feel again, "we'll just be a minute and then I'm needed with Albus."

"S'ok," the young wizard responded and nervously asked, "is there any progress on Professor Snape?"

"That, young man," Moody finally spoke up after emitting several growls throughout the short conversation, "is not your concern right now. Minerva, if we may? I'd like to get going."

The older wizard gestured to the office and Harry obediently turned back towards his sketching. The most he could hear were murmurs coming from the office, but when the door popped open slightly he was in the perfect spot to pick up on their conversation that they'd not likely expected to have at that moment.

"What do you expect, Alastor?" It was McGonagall he heard first and immediately paused his pencil. Based on the rustling around the small office, it sounded like his guardian was searching for something.

"I think we need more time to be sure…"

"More time?" He'd heard that voice from McGonagall before, it was the one she used when she was standing up for someone else's well-being; the same one she used when lecturing Snape after she caught them dueling in January. "It's been four days! What else do you expect to find?"

He couldn't hear the response from the auror, however based on his grumbling he definitely did not agree with the professor.

"He's been held captive," the Scottish witch exclaimed, "he has no wand, and there has been no indication of any nefarious intentions. Not to mention Albus has agreed that after tonight, there's nothing further we can do with him present."

"Albus has also refused the use of veritaserum," Moody challenged gruffly.

There was a long pause and Harry resisted the urge to turn around knowing that Moody would definitely notice and then he'd close the apparently unknown gap in their silencing wards. Instead, the Gryffindor wizard continued to sketch like nothing had happened.

"And you know the reasons, Alastor. We cannot hold him captive until we figure out a new plan," she lectured. "That's just not right, he's been through enough."

Harry found himself hoping they were talking about Snape. Perhaps they found him, but they needed to make sure he was safe to return? If so, then based on the conversation, he should be back tonight or tomorrow at the latest. Harry dropped his pencil as he considered what he'd do knowing the man who betrayed him was back in the castle and he could easily go and figure all this mess out. Did he want to forgive Snape?

The sound of his pencil hitting the floor made a louder click than he would have expected, likely increased by his desire not to draw attention to his eavesdropping.

"Here's the book you've so elegantly requested," McGonagall sharply said and with a hard thud Harry could almost see her pushing it into his chest.

The door to the office fully opened and light flooded out before the lanterns were extinguished with a quick swish of the professor's hand. Harry had already picked up his pencil and was back to sketching when the two Order members appeared to his right.

"I'll probably be back late again tonight, Harry, so no need to wait up," his guardian said with a tinge of sadness laced in her voice. "Are your friends coming by again?"

Harry nodded, "I think Dudley will be here later."

"Perfect," she replied, "I've left your sleeping tablets out on the kitchen counter, you take a half thirty minutes before going to bed."

"I know," she'd done that for him every night this week and each night she'd told him exactly where to find it and how to take it. He got the feeling it was more for her benefit than his, so he didn't mention the needless repetition. "Thank you, Minerva. Good luck tonight."

"Thank you," she gave him a warm smile, "Good night, Harry."

She took off towards the entryway, but this time Moody did not immediately follow. The former auror paused giving Harry another strange look that sent chills through Harry's spine. He knows I heard them! Harry thought with a panic.

"Nice picture, Potter," Moody's rough voice said. "You have a good talent there."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied as he felt his ears flush. Moody left a moment later, but unfortunately, after that encounter he wasn't up to continue his work.

As they'd promised, his friends had rotated in and out most nights of the week and between their classes, taking turns to help keep Harry's mind as occupied as possible. It was really the first time this year that his life had any semblance of normalcy compared to the previous five years at Hogwarts, if he could ignore the fact that he was in his Head of House's quarters.

On Thursday nights, Harry knew Hermione had Prefect duties and Ron was in Quidditch practice, so when the parchment popped up in front of his face announcing a visitor he didn't even look at it, naturally assuming it would be Dudley. Whenever the two cousins had been alone, Harry had used that time to talk to him about what their life in the muggle world could look like if he never got the rest of his magic back. Hermione had tried her best to understand his unique situation - knowing Ron couldn't even come close - but Dudley had literally just spent the last several months living as a muggle in a magical castle and his viewpoint was the best, so far, at calming Harry's anxious thoughts on the subject.

The second the Gryffindor opened the door, he regretted not looking at the parchment before answering, so he wouldn't have been taken completely off guard. Instead, he dropped his goblet of pumpkin juice, not noticing when the cold orange drink covered his feet and the metal goblet hit the floor with an echoing clang. Standing in front of him, looking far worse than Harry had ever seen the other wizard, was Draco.

The missing Slytherin was dressed in a white Oxford shirt that was haphazardly untucked from his black trousers and was missing any of his other uniform attire. Harry questioned if the teen had been allowed to change since his disappearance and he assumed the answer was no. His platinum hair was unwashed and patted down as if he'd tried to appear in control even though the look in his eyes said he was far from it. On his side, both pale hands were balled up nervously clenching and fidgeting, giving way to another sign that whatever had happened to the boy was not good. A pregnant pause enveloped the threshold as they simply stared at one another, not sure what to say.

So it wasn't Snape they were talking about tonight, Harry sadly thought to himself as he looked out at his former roommate.

"Are you going to invite me in, Potter?" The blonde asked, indignantly, "or have you lost all sense of manners since moving into Gryffindor territory?"

It had the desired effect in snapping Harry out of whatever stupor he'd been stuck in at the mere sight of the previously missing Malfoy.

"What happened to you?!" Harry asked, beckoning the blonde into the entryway. "Have you seen Hermione yet? She's been worried about you, we all have! Does Dumbledore know you're back?"

That was a stupid question.

"Of course he knows," Draco gave a hard stare and pointed toward the kitchen missing the fact that neither wizard even attempted to clean up the pumpkin juice. "Where do you think I've been this whole time, you prat? Do you really think Dumbledore would let me wander the castle after going missing for three days?"

Harry had some kind of guess that was what had happened, yet hearing it from the source felt like an important thing to do. Naturally, if he'd been missing for three days, that would mean he'd been under the Order's care - if he could even call it that - for the last four.

"Have you seen Hermione yet?" The Gryffindor asked again as they entered the kitchen and Harry poured them both a cup of tea - another thing that he was still adjusting to while living with Professor McGonagall, she always had tea available - deciding this was probably better for their nerves than pumpkin juice. Draco, though, wouldn't sit and started pacing the room. To Harry, he looked like the wild animals locked up in cages he'd seen the one time he went to the zoo with his relatives - when he unknowingly used magic and spoke parseltongue in the same afternoon - pacing around waiting for something to happen or trying to find his way out. He decided to try a different approach, "What happened with the bracelet?"

That question yielded an immediate reaction and Draco's head quickly turned towards Harry, "You were right, it was a summons."

Draco stopped his frantic movements and sat down at the table across from the Gryffindor.

"Was he ok?" Harry asked, without even realizing it, "Snape I mean, did you see him?"

The blonde nodded his head and Harry wasn't sure if it was because he'd seen the professor or that the professor was ok. He hoped it was the latter - he was still confused about so many things in regards to the man - though feared it was the former; that Draco had seen him, but Snape was not ok.

"How did you get back?" Harry wanted to ask a million questions all at once and the fact that Draco had hardly said two words wasn't helping.

"I just told you, it was a summons," the grey eyes looking into Harry's green ones had a fire in them that Harry couldn't quite place. Before he had too much of a chance to contemplate it though, it was quickly replaced with Draco's normal smugness, "I do come back from those, y'know. Just this time, given the circumstances, the headmaster and that tosser Moody, wanted a bit more... thorough... debriefing. As of this evening, I am officially released from whatever they suspected might be going on."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "And you chose to come here first? I feel honored."

"Then let me correct that right away," the other wizard retorted, "Hermione's on prefect duty and Severus is obviously not here, so that left you, as in the last resort… and McGonagall told me you'd be here."

The last sentence was mumbled and it made Harry smile. The visual of Draco sitting… wherever he was, probably Dumbledore's office, when he came to the realization he had to find the Head of Gryffindor's quarters was enough to drop any odd feelings he had over the situation.

"So seriously," Harry turned his head inquisitively, "how is he?"

"Oh, so you care now?" The Slytherin downed the last half of his cup of tea in one giant gulp and looked into the cup as if expecting it to refill. "The last time I saw you, you were dead set on dueling your frustrations away at whatever it was he did to you-" Draco furrowed his eyebrows, "- or whatever you thought he did to you."

"Now who's being the prat?" Harry argued back, "I was angry, alright. I still am, but I'm also worried about him. I'm guessing Voldemort has him trying to brew-"

"He's a traitor to the Dark Lord, Potter," Draco interrupted, "how do you think he's doing? He was basically used as an example should any of the rest of us dare to even think about double crossing him."

"But what about y-"

"Well, I'm that good, you see?" Draco once again interrupted him. "Merlin, why do you people all assume I'm worthless and I'll crumble under pressure? Sure, given the fact that I technically failed my task, it wasn't necessarily my most comfortable stay at home, but of course I passed the test in my loyalty from both sides, and here I am."

There was something about how the Slytherin said it that hit Harry the wrong way. He was almost too confident in his ability, but Harry hadn't been there and knew first hand what it was like to have people question your word; how many people said he didn't battle against Voldemort in the graveyard simply because it was hard to believe a fourteen year old could escape a wizard of Voldemort's caliber? The Gryffindor hadn't always agreed with Dumbledore's actions, especially after living with Snape, nevertheless the headmaster would do his due diligence, so he tabled those thoughts and instead focused on what was in front of him.

"Arrogant as ever, I see," Harry simply replied and gestured to their empty teacups, "Need some more tea?"

"Here, let me get that for you," Draco offered as Harry reached for the cup across from him. "No offense, but you look like you're one strong wind away from toppling over and the last thing I need is to survive an interrogation from the Dark Lord, his Death Eaters, and Moody, only to be cursed into next week by McGonagall for her precious lion's injury."

"A bit dramatic, don't you think," Harry smirked, handing his tea cup to Draco's outstretched arm. "Thank you, though."

It never struck the Gryffindor as odd when instead of simply summoning the teapot to the table, the Slytherin brought their teacups to the counter to refill them the muggle way. And unfortunately from where Harry always sat at the table - a fact that Draco would have known from all the meals they'd spent together since February - he wouldn't be able to see the two small sleeping tablets that were added to his tea cup and fully dissolved before being handed back to him.

The two boys fell into a comfortable conversation as they finished up their tea and Harry found some biscuits and crisps in the cupboard that he opened for the two of them to snack on. Most of their conversation was focused on classes and specifically how they thought Tonks would be as a Defense professor. Harry had always liked Tonks, and he thought she would have been a fun and engaging professor. Missing her classes - both at the beginning of the year when Snape took off because of Harry's pneumonia and now because he was too far behind to catch up - was one of the bigger regrets he had for his coursework. Draco, on the other hand, made it clear that he thought the Metamorphmagus couldn't be taken seriously as a professor. According to him, she was far too young to earn any respect from the students - Harry argued that Snape had to have been about her age when he started teaching and he clearly had no problem gaining respect - and that she was too clumsy to safely be around students while throwing hexes their way; and that was all before he brought up that she was a Hufflepuff, like that somehow meant she wasn't qualified to teach Defense. Apparently being an auror and the blonde's cousin, at least as Harry remembered it, didn't earn her any leeway with him. In fact, Harry found himself both surprised and intrigued at how seriously the other teen took his education once one stripped back his nervous arrogance.

A little over thirty minutes into their conversation, as Harry started to feel strangely sleepy, an uncomfortable silence fell over them. Even after almost two cups of tea, Draco didn't look any more relaxed. Harry had wanted to wait until the other teen wasn't so guarded to find out more about what happened at the Manor and with Snape, but now he decided a more direct approach was needed.

"What about your father?" Harry asked, after taking the last sip of his tea, "I mean, he was-"

"My father was trying to help me out," Draco once again interrupted him when asked a very direct question, something that was starting to get on Harry's nerves. The blonde closed up immediately after the question was asked and Harry could tell he was nervous. Whatever had happened during either of the interrogations left the normally well put-together Malfoy heir on edge. "How's Hermione holding up with everything? What exactly happened here after I left the Room?"

"She was a mess... Don't be surprised if she cries when she finally sees you," Harry answered honestly. He had broached the topic initially, so he couldn't really be upset when the tides turned to him and his side of what happened. "There was a lot going on when you disappeared. I guess she went down to Snape's to find you. They, um…" Harry really didn't want to tell the Slytherin about his father's map, "they searched the castle and when they didn't find us, that's when Snape went to Hogsmeade thinking we, or at least I, went there. Dunno why he'd think that though because I don't care how angry I was with him, I know better then to leave the wards right now."

"You weren't supposed to leave quarantine either," Draco aptly pointed out, "and you did that anyway. Going to be honest, Potter, you don't have the best track record in self-preservation."

That actually did cause Harry to laugh, "Snape used to say the same thing."

Harry wanted to ask if Draco knew about the prophecy - the Gryffindor was sure he did at least from the Department of Mysteries debacle with his father from last year - and more specifically, what Snape's role in it was. He opened his mouth twice to ask, but no matter how hard he tried to form the words, nothing came out. Harry smiled at the thought of him gaping like a fish to one of the most aristocratic sixteen year old's in wizarding Britain. He'd already talked about all of this with his friends, on multiple occasions, and yet he wanted Draco's opinion on it, like when he asked the blonde's opinion on his magic and the block. There was something about getting a completely unfiltered opinion - like Snape's used to be - on a difficult situation that meant just as much as his friends' opinions.

However before Harry could think much further, the yawn he'd been holding back came out and he felt eyes getting heavy. It had been a long time since he'd felt this overwhelmingly tired, especially considering he was taking a sleep aid to help him fall asleep every night.

"You ok there, Potter?" Draco asked, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "you look a little... I don't know, sleepy."

"... I am," Harry said, "I think I'm going to-" he gave another large yawn, "- go and lay down for a little bit."

The Gryffindor wanted to get up from the table, he wanted his legs to take him from the uncomfortable chair to his much more comfortable bed that was only right down the corridor. In the end, he couldn't fight it any longer and he decided to simply lay his head down on his folded arms right at the table. Before he knew it, and much faster than any other night since Snape's capture, Harry fell fast asleep.

"Sorry, Potter," the Slytherin said quietly. "I hope you can understand why I have to do this. I just don't know who I can trust anymore and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe."

The sleeping wizard would never hear the confession of his captor. Nor would he know that Draco left him in the kitchen to go search his bedroom until he found the two last pieces he needed for his plan: the invisibility cloak and Harry's wand, to replace his own Hawthorne one that Voldemort hadn't returned to him. Working quickly, Draco used the Gryffindor's own wand to cast Mobilicorpus on him and then proceeded to drape the invisibility cloak over his floating body. In one last check around, Draco conjured up a bag and collected all of Harry's tablet medications from the kitchen and lavatory, not knowing exactly what would be needed or how the Dark Lord planned to keep him alive without the muggle chemotherapy - that wasn't his responsibility, he was only supposed to deliver the Chosen One.

It was almost too easy. He had expected to somehow have to acquire Harry's wand while the other wizard was there and to use a quickly casted stunning spell, until he saw the box of tablets sitting on the countertop clearly labeled "sleeping aid" on them. He had no idea of the proper dosage - nor did he have the time to check - but based on all the other medications the Gryffindor was taking, two seemed to be a safe amount; enough to knock him out cold, yet not do any lasting damage.

Once that was completed, he knew where he'd find the invisibility cloak, and the wand was now only needed to levitate his thin body towards Hogsmeade. The walk was dark and cold, making Draco feel a little more guilty about the situation because Harry was only dressed in a pair of green flannel pyjamas. Hopefully he'd stay asleep long after they arrived at the Manor and would get to warm up before waking. He didn't attempt to finish the trek to the snowy wizarding village, at this point he was familiar with the boundaries of the wards and didn't want to waste any time. So after his first step out of the wards, he turned to his invisible hostage, placed his hand on the middle of the Gryffindor's floating body and said, "Mort".