~~~~AU SS~~~~

Severus woke up that morning in a state of panic; questioning how he'd managed to sleep throughout the night. That hadn't happened in over a month, each night worse than the last. He breathed a sigh of relief thinking maybe things were finally settling down. Then his still sleep-deprived brain caught up to the situation facing him that day and it brought with it the fresh searing pain that ripped through his chest. How long would it be until he didn't have that constant reminder first thing every morning? How long until those wonderful, first thirty-seconds of his day no longer existed? It would come, he knew that, and he dreaded when it would arrive.

He showered as he should have for an occasion like this, though he wouldn't remember actually getting in or out, nor would he remember how he ended up with his towel tightly tied around his waist, standing before his opened wardrobe. There it was, his black dress robes. The same black dress robes he wore for the adoption and then again at the Yule Ball, and the same ones he transfigured into the muggle suit for Petunia Dursley's funeral, and the very same one's he wore to the Malfoy's Christmas Party less than six months ago. He really should have gotten another set for this occasion as Molly Weasley suggested to him only three days ago, but he couldn't bring himself to go out and find a set he would only wear once. At that time, he had already known once he took them off today he'd never wear this set of robes again. He wouldn't be able to think of anything else when he picked them back up after today: the day of his son's funeral.

Sirius insisted on coming over before taking a port key to the cemetery in Godric's Hollow - Harry would be buried beside his parents, the one thing he could finally give the young wizard he failed to protect - and the professor assumed he'd be seeing a lot of the animagus in the days to come. His quarters had been constantly filled with people in one way or another since Harry's death; Molly insisting she help him with the final arrangements, Sirius not wanting to be alone, or Minerva and Albus filling in the rest of the time just to check on him. It was nice to have something to occupy his mind, to stop himself from thinking about what was going to happen today, but none of them could prevent those first waking moments when he forgot what his life was like now. Those moments - and the crushing realization only seconds later - set the mood for his entire day. At some point, though, probably after today, the visitors would end and he was oddly looking forward to it. It was for the same reason when Albus asked him if he'd like to take the remainder of the year off, he'd said he would consider the offer, but already knew he wouldn't agree. He needed some control and normalcy to return to his life; two things that would never happen. Life wasn't supposed to be normal any longer, a father wasn't supposed to bury his son.

Sirius arrived at just past eight that morning, a time that was deemed acceptable to enter someone else's home, but he had a feeling the Gryffindor had been itching to come over far sooner. He was dressed in an equally sad set of black dress robes and didn't comment when Severus held out a glass of firewhiskey at that early hour of the day. The two wizards who were no longer enemies, yet not friends - a strange pair who would forever be tied by the child missing from the room - sat across from each other listening to the newly repaired clock ticking on the mantle, neither making eye contact as they sipped their drinks.

"What time are we expected?" Sirius asked with a quiver in his voice.

"Between ten and eleven," Severus answered flatly.

Another period of silence fell over the wizards before Sirius asked, "What are you going to do now?"

He was sure many of the other visitors who had come through his quarters in the last five days had wanted to ask him the same question, but none of them had. Sirius, though, looked just as distraught and lost as Severus did. Here was a man who spent a third of his life locked away for a crime he didn't commit - at least this time - and he'd just gotten his Godson back only to lose him. Severus himself felt cheated by the lack of time he had with the young wizard, and he'd had two extra years. All he could do was hope that the last five years made up for the previous ten Harry had lived through; that he made some difference in his son's short life.

"I'll most likely go back to teaching on Monday," the professor replied.

"Already?!" Sirius exclaimed, placing his glass a bit too hard on the table in front of him. "You're just going to go back to life like nothing's happened?"

"What else should I do?" Severus asked more calmly than he felt inside. He understood it was Sirius's grief that caused the outburst, but he refused to feed it; not before a day like today.

"You should…" the Gryffindor stood and started pacing while running his hands through his long dark hair.

"I should do what?" He prompted again, "Do tell me what you think the most appropriate reaction is in a situation like this, because the last thing I want to be doing is sitting around here!"

And that was the crux of why no one had dared to ask him that question. What was he supposed to do now? There was no right or wrong answer, it was simply putting one foot in front of the other in hopes that he wouldn't fall and eventually he'd be somewhere new. While the wound would never truly go away, at some point it would dull and instead of the sharpness, it would simply be a blanket he carried over his heart for the rest of his own days.

The service had been beautiful, as every single person he talked to afterwards had told him, and were carried out exactly to Harry's short list of wishes. There really wasn't much that Harry cared about in terms of the service, but he wanted it small, bright, and 'not sad'; that last one Severus couldn't do, there was no way to make the death of a sixteen year old 'not sad'. The others, though, they'd done well on: the guests for the actual service were limited to his closest friends, Dudley, Sirius, The Weasley's, Lupin and his wife Tonks, Minerva, Albus, and any of the other professors who wished to attend; and most of them did, at least for a short while.

By the end, once most of the guests had long left, Severus found himself unable to move. It was too final for him and once he went back to his quarters at Hogwarts it would officially start his life of 'after Harry'. The last five days had been this transitional period where he could almost push the majority of his grief to the side because he had a task to do: prepare Harry's funeral. The moment he set foot back in his home, it would be different; that task was completed and now it was only him.

"Severus," Minerva's sad voice called to him. She was standing beside Lily and James's headstone, tears filling up her eyes as she watched him kneeling before his son's grave. "It's time, Severus. We need to go."

He looked past her and saw a group that had likely been waiting for him before they all made their way back to Hogwarts where there was some meal planned for the rest of the student body to mourn their classmate. Naturally, as Harry's father and professor, he was expected to be there, and by now they'd given him as much time to say goodbye as they could.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. This isn't how it was supposed to end," Severus said to the ground in front of him, not caring about the tears falling from his obsidian eyes, "I love you, son."

He stood, also not caring about the dirt that clung to the front of his robes. Minerva wrapped her arm around his and they escorted each other back to the waiting group, where a port key was scheduled to take them back to Hogwarts; no one trusting their ability to safely apparate anywhere today.

As he'd anticipated, no one said a word when Severus left dinner in the Great Hall as soon as possible. He received a sympathetic glance from those around him, but no comments were made. He took the long way back to the dungeons and when he entered, it felt different to him. The air was heavy and empty at the same time, and the professor had no idea what to do with himself.

Deciding he'd had enough visitors for the day, Severus walked into the sitting room with every intention of blocking his floo for the night, but the contents on the table as he past it caught his eye: Harry's Official Adoption Certificate and a handwritten letter to him from his son that he'd found after his death. Three days ago, as Severus and Molly were finishing up the final funeral arrangements, he came across the letter Harry had placed with the adoption certificate; the last piece of information that would be needed. Harry knew his father would need to show proof of the Adoption before any of the final papers could be signed. The fact that the young wizard had the forethought in those two concepts - that he took the time to write Severus a letter to read after his death and placed it where the professor was guaranteed to find it - was a testament to Harry's kind personality. And so, he'd left both the letter and the adoption certificate out on the sitting room table for the past three days because he didn't have the courage to put them away. Someday, he told himself, someday they'd go back.

He read the letter every day since he discovered it and, naturally, went to pick it up again while standing between the table and the fireplace. This time, instead of picking it up to read, he withdrew his trembling hand at the last second, turned around, and swiped it across the fireplace mantle. All the pictures and trinkets throughout the years crashed to the ground and shattered when they made contact with the stone floor. Something about that action released a burst of relief inside of him, and he found himself stalking around the room releasing his anger on anything in his way: parchment from people sending their sympathy to him, all of which flew to the ground and the ink pots spattered across the floor from the desk near the sofa, books from the tall overfilled bookshelves tumbled to the floor, until any sign from the life he and Harry built together was in pieces around him… all except the letter and the adoption certificate sitting in pristine condition on the sitting room table.

It shouldn't have surprised him that the relief from his tantrum was short lived, and once he caught his breath, the grief blanketed over him yet again. It was a shadow he couldn't hide from, he couldn't scare it away, and he would have to find a way to learn to accept it or else he didn't know how he'd manage to survive. Taking one last look around the completely trashed room, he walked down the hall on his way to his bedroom to change - to remove as much of this awful day as he could - but he found himself automatically turning and walking into Harry's bedroom. Molly had removed as much of the reminders of what had happened in that room as possible, like the medications and other medical supplies, and now it looked just as it would if this were any other year and Harry were simply upstairs in the tower. He climbed into the bed - not caring how juvenile he looked laying in his son's bed - without any idea of what was to come; simply because he'd forgotten to block his floo from visitors as he had originally planned that night.

~~~~SS~~~~

Wednesday, 21st May 1997

Severus woke in his bed, as he had every day he'd been back after being rescued from Malfoy Manor, except the first, of course. For some reason, Poppy insisted that being held captive for over two months in a windowless room required at least one overnight stay. By that point it was almost dawn and he was in no condition to argue with the medi-witch. So eventually, he obediently laid in his hospital bed as she went to work casting all kinds of diagnostic and healing spells on him, but he hardly noticed any of it. The entire time he was staring at the bed in the back corner of the room where they had recently come from and where Harry laid. At first, he'd questioned why the Gryffindor wasn't taken to St Mungo's - this was not really a Hogwarts matter - and when Albus told him it was to keep the flow of information in their favor, Severus wanted to scream. There were too many witnesses in the Drawing Room when it happened and to think the news wouldn't spread was a mistake.

Naturally, the headmaster wasn't going to let Severus see him until after the professor had been checked and cleared by Poppy, but he refused to cooperate until he could see the young wizard, until he could see with his own eyes again what he'd seen back at Malfoy Manor. So before anything else, he was led to a chair by the Gryffindor's bedside where he held Harry's cold hand and he cried, not at all caring if a silencing spell had been placed around him or not. They could listen. Those who were in the room saw with their own eyes what Harry had done for him and none of them would question him about his tears afterwards. Thankfully, he'd been given a heavy dose of Dreamless Sleep where he slept through most of the day, and was then released from the hospital wing back to his quarters, where walking in for the first time felt completely foreign to him. It was his home, yet it was missing the one piece that truly made it feel that way in the last year - Harry.

Each morning when he first awoke, it felt like his old reality all over again. Those first sleepy seconds when he opened his eyes and before reality hit him all over again - the prophecy, the vision, his capture, Malfoy Manor, their attempted escape, and the killing curse rushing to him before Harry jumped in the way. When all of that came flooding back, it was too much and on the first two mornings, he found himself in his modest lavatory sicking up, just as Harry had done for months.

The worst part of being back in his quarters was the constant reminders of Harry's absence. Every time he passed Harry's room, left exactly as it had been since that awful day in March, he had to remind himself that the young wizard wouldn't be there. In the five days since Harry had been hit by the killing curse for the second time, he'd been in the room twice. The bed was still sloppily made with his favorite green bedspread from the morning before his magical testing, and his robes still hung neatly in the wardrobe from his last classes back in January. It felt like a lifetime ago and he wasn't sure what he'd do… he tried not to think about it, no matter how often his mind went there.

Today was the 21st of May, the day that had been Harry's funeral and the day that started all of this when Albus visited him later that night. Today, in this reality, he should have been dressing in his same black dress robes - although they had far less history here than back in his old reality - but he flat out refused. No matter what Albus said or pleaded to him about his need to be present, Severus wouldn't go today. He already knew there was no way he'd be able to keep his anger in check on a day like this, and no one surrounding him would understand, or care, why; his mind simply would be elsewhere and no one needed to be subjected to that right now. Deep down, he could tell the headmaster was clinging to hope that Severus would change his mind and randomly show up, but no one in attendance this morning would be surprised when he wasn't there.

After eating a measly, bland breakfast, he made his way to his office - avoiding the sitting room and its memories as much as possible; even though the last time he'd seen Harry was in this room it felt easier for him to handle - to catch up on his work. He missed two months of classes where Tonks ended up taking over his N.E.W.T lessons too. Looking through the notes she left for him, he was surprised the auror actually had kept things more or less at a level he would have taught, making stepping back into them on Monday morning much simpler than he anticipated. If it were any other day, he would laugh at how another year went where the Defense Against the Dark Arts post had been cursed. When he'd taken the change in position over the summer, he thought maybe this year the students would finally have a good year, and while it certainly wouldn't be their worst - Umbridge held that pathetic honor - it was definitely more pieced together than he had ever planned. Thinking it through, with the Dark Lo- with Voldemort gone, he considered not coming back to teach next year. He could take a couple of years off, or simply not come back at all. It was an option, though as he used to tell Harry, these types of decisions couldn't be made when feeling your lowest.

By lunchtime, it didn't surprise Severus when he heard his floo roar to life and Albus called out to him from the sitting room. This too was far too similar to this day in his old reality, though this time the headmaster would find him in his office instead of Harry's bedroom. As expected, the door opened and Albus stood there, waiting to be invited in. He was in a plain set of dress robes, an odd look for anyone who knew the headmaster and his penchant for the wildest, sometimes inappropriate for the occasion, attire.

"I doubt you'll leave if I ignore you," Severus called out without lifting his head from the marks he was reviewing, "so you might as well come in."

Without saying a word, the headmaster transfigured the modest chair across from his desk into one more to his liking, and sat down.

"Your absence was missed today," the headmaster said with a small twinkle in his eyes that Severus viewed as a bit inappropriate given where he'd just been. "I had hoped you would have changed your mind."

"For some reason, I don't exactly believe that," the younger wizard commented rather harshly to the first statement. Then, looking over at the man he thought of as his own mentor, he carefully put his guard down and asked, "How did it go?"

There was a moment of silence when neither wizard so much as breathed, and suddenly Severus had this unbelievable desire to know how it went. The question of if he'd regret his choice to stay far away came flooding into his mind.

"More or less as we'd anticipated," Albus said, and Severus let out the breath he'd been holding, "Draco was found innocent on all charges, and the rest are currently on their way to Azkaban."

"Including Lucius?"

"Ah," the older wizard held his hand up as if he'd actually forgotten this very important fact, "Lucius was found guilty of the death of Rabastan Lestrange, but as a measure of self defense. As for his part in your capture, the guard on duty for the Order that night testified that only Rabastan was seen bringing you into the guest house. Therefore, those charges were dropped."

Moody had been on guard that night, and Severus could only imagine what it took to get the former auror to lie about it. Albus had assured him that Draco and Lucius would see no time in Azkaban - as repayment for their brave roles in aiding the Order, especially in the end - but the professor only partially believed he'd come through on it. He probably should have been at the trials today, but he didn't want to be surrounded by so many people or his face to be on the front page of the Prophet. The latter was the second reason why he'd not left the school grounds once; the first reason was still upstairs in the hospital wing unconscious.

"Have you been to see him today?" Albus carefully asked.

"Not yet," he replied. "With classes cancelled, I assumed his friends would be there most of the day. I'll go during the dinner hour."

"Any word on his condition?"

"My latest missive from Poppy stated there has been no change yet," Severus answered, his frustration with the whole situation evident in his voice.

"He'll come around, Severus," Albus leaned across the desk and did what no else would dare try: he clasped his hand around the professor's. "Just give him time."

"Would you want to come back to all of this?" He pulled his hand away. "Between cancer, having no idea that Voldemort is dead, and magical loss, or continuing beyond, given the choice, what would you choose?"

Albus gave him a small smile, "But this isn't my choice… it's Harry's and he's far stronger than any of us think. Talk to him, my boy, I think you'll find he will surprise us all at least one more time."

Talk to him. That was what Dr Swanson and Healer Walker told him to do too. He couldn't though - but not from lack of effort - it had been far too difficult and even if he could find his voice to talk when he visited, he didn't know what to tell the young wizard who lay unconscious.

Albus stayed most of the afternoon and walked Severus through what had happened at the trials earlier at the Ministry of Magic. Every member of the Order, but Severus, was there and they testified what had happened from the first moment they breached the wine cellars. Apparently, it had been storming that night when Narcissa was supposed to be wandering the gardens as a cover for Lucius's disarming of the wards. Knowing this was still the best option they had, the Malfoy Patriarch proceeded without the planned distraction of his wife; he stated that her presence out in the stormy weather would have drawn more attention than his own.

This simple change must have immediately put the Death Eaters on alert because once the first team - consisting of Minerva, Moody, and Molly - crossed the wards that couldn't be completely disabled on their way to the boys' room, the response was faster than any of them had expected it to be. They had Harry's invisibility cloak, allowing the second team - consisting of Arthur and George to rescue Lucius and Dr Swanson - to move about almost undetected, while the others scattered across the Manor and the last team made their way towards the dungeons. Unfortunately, Minerva's team didn't make it to the boys' room because they ran into Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange midway down the corridor on the second story. That battle triggered the others to abandon the plan and head straight to their marks.

The team on the second floor was later joined by Fred and Fleur, tipping the scales in their favor before another two Death Eaters also arrived. In an effort to get the boys out before their guard, Yaxley, could find out what was happening, Moody sent Minerva to continue on to their room. According to Minerva, when she arrived, Narcissa had already taken down Yaxley; having been in the room with the excuse she wanted to spend time with her son before the Blood Ritual in a few hours time. Throughout all their time in Manor, Narcissa had been paying close attention to the muggle medications and supplies they had stocked away for Harry's chemotherapy and she'd managed to steal a syringe from it. That night, when it sounded like things had gone wrong, she filled it with a Dreamless Sleep Potion and opened the door, taking Yaxley by surprise. According to Draco's testimony, it was quite a sight to see and Severus made a mental note to write to the Malfoy Matriarch and thank her for her quick thinking.

Unfortunately, their success was short lived, and while the original duel on the second story broke up to separate areas in the Manor when Molly killed Bellatrix after the Death Eater witch just missed Fred with the killing curse, it wasn't long before they were surrounded again. Harry, Draco, Minerva, and Narcissa were the first to be captured by Nott, the Carrows, and Avery, and brought to the Drawing Room. From there, others trickled in as duels were lost, but once Severus was captured - the last of Voldemort's primary necessities - the evil wizard didn't need to wait for anyone else.

What happened next in the Drawing Room didn't need repeating, even from an outsider's point of view, and Albus was smart enough to be fully aware of that fact. Instead, he skipped over everything from Severus's own capture to Harry jumping in front of the killing curse - apparently the Gryffindor had bitten Nott, of all things, to get out from the Death Eater's grasp - meant for the professor and continued on after Severus had killed Voldemort and passed out. In the wake of their master's death, the Death Eaters in the room attempted to flee in order to save themselves. Luckily, Severus had been correct at the time in assuming there were still people downstairs fighting and with the death of their Lord, all of their Dark Marks burned signaling his official perishing. While the Mark would never go away, it had already lightened significantly and would continue to do so as time went on until it would only be a shadow of a reminder - barely visible without a second or third glance - of the dark things he'd done in his life. The only good thing about his passing out was he'd been saved from the blinding pain - as Draco called it - of the dying Dark Mark. According to Nadine, it was almost as painful as a person's magical core dying because of how intertwined the magic in the Mark was to the holder's own magic. For years now, Severus had avoided looking at his left forearm and the thought that there may come a day where that would no longer be necessary was definitely something positive to focus on.

"And there's one last thing that happened today," Albus said as the dinner hour approached.

Severus narrowed his eyes as the older wizard pulled a small loop from his robes and held it out in his hand. With a wave of his wand, the loop enlarged into a golden medallion.

"You were awarded an Order of Merlin: First Class presented at the Ministry today," the headmaster placed it on the desk between them, "for your part in killing Lord Voldemort. Harry was awarded Second Class and, naturally, I accepted them on both of your and Harry's behalf. It would have been a nice moment had you been there."

He didn't want the award, it wouldn't change what had happened and it wouldn't change the outcome of what was going to happen. But he did cast the killing curse that defeated the darkest wizard of their time, and Harry became the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, because even if the Gryffindor didn't pull through whatever was keeping him from waking up, he hadn't immediately died from the curse either.

"He would have died from the cancer anyway," Severus reminded the headmaster. In hindsight, given his Mark he was surprised he wasn't arrested for the use of that curse, but when he'd questioned Albus about it, he was told it wouldn't be a problem. Now he was getting rewarded for it.

"Ah, yes," Albus said, standing to take his leave. "In that case you should know Nadine Walker testified about your time together, and I believe he would only perish from the cancer due to your creative thinking. Alas, the award is still rightly yours."

He disagreed in principle; by awarding this high honor it was giving power to Voldemort even after his death. They should go about their lives as if this dark period was simply now behind them. Not to mention, it came at such a high cost: potentially Harry's life. He didn't say any of that, of course, and chose instead to simply accept the medal, if only to end the ridiculous conversation. Had he gone to the trials and been presented with it, he probably wouldn't have been so reserved; another good reason he'd stayed home.

Severus ended up not visiting Harry over the dinner hour. He'd been there, standing outside the door to the Hospital Wing, but he heard Dudley talking to the young wizard and didn't want to interrupt. He'd have plenty of time after curfew to return when the students were in bed and he was once again struggling to sleep.

The day was almost as difficult - in a very different way - as the same day in his old reality. By the time he returned to the hospital wing, he was mentally exhausted, but completely unable to sleep. The timelines had officially crossed and at this point in his old life, he'd had the red potion in his possession and had already taken the Dreamless Sleep to make it through the night. Back there, his nightmares were plagued with memories of the awful crossroads, but here, every time he closed his eyes it was so much worse. He saw his time at Malfoy Manor - Saturdays of torture, followed by nights of healing - and days upon days of brewing. In fact, after that ordeal, he may never be able to brew again without thinking of Voldemort and the incorrect potion he'd brewed for his son, leading to his death.

The hospital wing was silent when he entered as all of the patients from Malfoy Manor had been healed; all but Harry. The young wizard laid in the bed in the corner, stuck somewhere between life and death. This reminded him of the awful two weeks Harry had pneumonia, but this time he was even less sure the Gryffindor would ever wake up. Not hearing another person in the room, he was surprised when he rounded the curtain and Draco was sitting in the chair next to the bed.

"It's after curfew Mr Malfoy," Severus reprimanded his student.

"Prefect, remember?" The blonde didn't even turn towards him.

"That's not the purpose of that badge," the professor sat down in the second bedside chair. "I heard today was favorable for you?"

"You weren't there," the pain in the blonde's voice seared straight through him; another person he'd let down.

"It would have been worse had I been," he replied. "The general public already has a… conflicted viewpoint of me right now, and I wouldn't want any of my actions to reflect negatively on you."

"Well, it went fine today," Draco feigned indifference, but Severus knew how he truly felt. "I'm sure had he been there-" the blonde motioned to the bed in front of them, "there would have been less questions about it all. His word is a bit more believable than that of a supposedly reformed Death Eater."

Draco looked down as he flexed his left forearm and then changed the topic, "Where do you think he is?"

Severus furrowed his brows in confusion, looking between the two boys who became friends - or at least as close to friends as Draco would ever allow himself - through their shared experiences. It took longer than Severus had hoped, but in the end that odd bond had saved them both; not necessarily from their circumstances, more from their own demons.

"With his parents," Severus confidently answered.

"Think he'll come back?"

Draco sounded lost in the irony that the one person he'd let see a small part of his true self might never come back. It would be a strange feeling for the other teen and one he was likely struggling to come to terms with.

"I don't think so," the professor replied, honestly; he was a realist after all. "I think he'll be happier with them."

Draco nodded his head and stood to take his leave, but before leaving around the curtain partition, he turned around and said, "He forgave you. Even if I didn't already know that, you should have. It's not everyday someone steps in front of the killing curse for a person they hate."

It was a statement demonstrating a maturity level far beyond his sixteen years and showed Severus just how far the Malfoy heir had come in less than a year. Severus should have been proud, but all he felt was regret that it also showed how much the child had been exposed to in such a short time frame. To further emphasize his growth, Draco didn't wait to hear Severus's non-existent answer; he just slipped away leaving the professor yet again alone with the Gryffindor.

He didn't know, or really care, how long he sat silently by Harry's bed. His hands were folded on his lap, and he was wringing his fingers that were so intertwined he couldn't tell which belonged to which hand.

Talk to him, they'd all told him, and so he parted his lips to speak, but at first no sound came out. Looking into his lap, focusing on his hands, he tried again, this time speaking almost the same familiar words that he'd last spoken at his son's graveside, "I'm so sorry, Harry. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

"I should have been honest with you from the beginning," he started with because that was all the young wizard had ever asked of him; of anyone really, "about it all, and now I may never get the chance."

He paused, trying to think of how to say all the complicated thoughts in his head. In the end though, after listening to the steady breathing from the bed across from him, there was only really one thing he had left to say to this Harry, "The truth is… I love you like you're my son, and I want you to come back to me."

The moment he said those words out loud, his chest was lighter than he'd ever felt it; at least in this reality. With his head still cradled in his hands, he let his sorrow fill him until his insides ached and threatened to burst.

"I love you too."

That quiet scratchy voice was the last thing Severus expected to hear, and when he lifted his head - so quickly he was surprised it didn't fall off - staring back at him was the best sight he thought he would never see again: Harry's bright emerald green eyes.

~~~~HP~~~~

He didn't want to leave his parents' side. Wherever he was, it was hard to judge how long he'd been sitting there beside them - an hour, a day, or a week? - but he would have been content to stay there forever; or to go with them to the other side. Something was holding him back, and in the bright white room, he couldn't exactly remember what was making the choice so difficult for him. How long had he been wishing and dreaming for his parents to come and take him away, and yet now they were next to him and he wasn't jumping at the opportunity to go?

Then he heard Snape's baritone voice fill the space all around them and he knew why he hadn't gone yet. There was still so much living he had left to do, and not surprisingly his parents understood he needed -no, he wanted - to go back. This time, he'd gotten to give them a proper goodbye and that simple fact, combined with this choice belonging all to him and knowing he had someone who loved him back home, filled in the void he'd lived with his whole life. So when he opened his eyes, telling Snape he loved him came almost as easy as when he said it to his parents.

"Harry," Snape breathlessly said, handing the young wizard a goblet of water from the bedside table. "I thought you were..."

"You can't… get rid of me... that easily," Harry replied. Then as his head began to clear, he looked around the room confused, "What happened… this time?"

"You've been unconscious for five days after being struck by the killing curse."

His emerald eyes widened as he remembered Malfoy Manor; getting forcibly taken to the drawing room, fighting against Nott with all his might, and then, remembering his best defense against the Primary School bullies, biting down on Nott's wand hand so hard he drew blood, to finally get away. He thought he was too late, that the idea that freed him was a second too late, but he wasn't; he jumped between Snape and Voldemort at the perfect time to save Snape. The wand. He had grabbed Nott's wand in hopes of getting it to Snape, so the man could at long last kill the wizard that had tormented them more than almost anyone else.

"The wand. What happened to Vold-" Harry started, but stopped when Snape raised his hand. The young wizard propped himself up on his elbows, accepting Snape's help to sit up the rest of the way.

"He's dead," the professor answered, "I killed him, for real this time. He can never hurt you or anyone else again."

Harry wanted to cry tears of relief, yet he found himself oddly calm at learning that the cause of all of his troubles was gone. The evil wizard had defined him in a way no one else could really understand; besides maybe Snape. His whole life, purpose of life really whether he was aware of it or not, had been about Voldemort. Now he was truly gone and the young wizard could live freely, or least as freely as someone with Leukemia could and even that was getting better.

"Thank you," Harry said once he recovered enough to speak.

"It is I who should be thanking you," Snape told him with a sincerity in his voice the Gryffindor had never heard before. "What you did was… foolish-" he held his hand up to stop Harry's incoming protest, "- and the bravest thing I've ever seen. Thank you, Harry, for saving my life… in more ways than one."

Their time together was cut abruptly short when Madam Pomfrey and Dr Swanson came around the curtain.

"It's about time you're up," the matron exclaimed, and Harry knew it was her way of saying she'd been far more worried about him than normal. Immediately, Harry felt the distinct tickle of a diagnostic charm and Dr Swanson was taking notes from the results in her paper file.

"Severus," Madam Pomfrey huffed to the professor, " would you please give us some space to work?"

"But-" Harry started to protest.

"We'll have plenty of time to talk through things," Severus interrupted, stepping back to allow the medi-witch and muggle doctor in to examine their patient. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

"Snape's being called a wizarding hero and you're now 'The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice'," Ron gave a small chuckle from one of the chairs beside Harry's bed.

"I don't care what they call me," Harry complained from his bed the next day, "I didn't actually do anything, so they can all leave me alone."

It was the next afternoon, when the set of friends - Ron, Hermione, and Dudley - were having lunch with Harry. They'd barely been able to contain their excitement when they'd heard the news, but this time McGonagall did not allow them to miss classes; much to Ron's chagrin. No matter how much Harry had prepared himself for her greeting, Hermione's customary bear-hug from seeing him awake was almost suffocating. They were now settled around his bed, the two boys taking the two chairs and Hermione sitting as gracefully as she could at the end of it eating sandwiches and crisps.

They'd already rapid-fired questions at him about life at Malfoy Manor, which Harry answered as honestly as he felt comfortable with. As he spoke about it, he realized that from an outsider's viewpoint, it didn't sound nearly as horrific as it felt to him at the time. In fact, in most ways, it was actually better than growing up at Privet Drive was - not that he would say so with Dudley present - by getting three meals a day, a large room, clothes that mostly fit him, and not a single body-breaking chore to do. He was a prisoner, though, kept there against his will and that was something he'd have to learn to accept because he was having a difficult time coming to terms with it.

What he didn't talk about was Draco and the Blood Ritual. He wasn't sure if that information had been released and it really wasn't his place to gossip about. Based on Hermione's lack of questions regarding her boyfriend, he could make a safe assumption that they had talked about what the Slytherin's own experience had been like while imprisoned in his own home, and at some point he'd reach out to the blonde to talk about it too. He just wasn't exactly ready for that yet, and he knew Draco wasn't either. From the moment they woke up in that room together, neither of them expected to walk out of that Manor alive and that left a lot of strange history between them that they didn't really know how to handle.

"Did it hurt?" Ron asked, earning the redhead a slap across the shoulder from Hermione.

Harry rubbed the spot on his shoulder where the curse had hit him, "Yeah, it feels really sore now. When it happened though, everything went so quick, I'm not really sure about then."

"You're the only person who can actually describe what it's like to die from the Killing Curse-"

"I didn't die," Harry reminded him. "At least I don't think I did."

"Semantics," Dudley replied, as if he had any idea what was going on or the implications of it.

"Why did you do it, Harry?" Hermione asked the one question he was surprised he hadn't gotten when they first walked in. "You didn't know you'd survive, right?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I didn't know that, and I still don't think I fully understand why I didn't die. It just… felt like the right thing to do at the time… it wasn't going to be long before Voldemort made another horcrux and then I'd be killed anyways. As I was being held, all I could think about was that Voldemort could be killed and hopefully Snape wouldn't be."

The trio looked at him like he was completely mental and the more Harry tried to think about it from their perspective, he could see why they'd think that. The last they knew of the situation, he was angry with Snape about delivering the prophecy to the evil wizard and making them a target. So to help clarify the situation, Harry explained the rationale Draco had walked him through: that had it not been Snape who brought the prophecy, Voldemort wouldn't have vanished that Halloween night. The more he talked, the better about it he felt, and knowing that his parents - if he could even claim that was real and not some figment of his imagination - forgave the man definitely helped him reconcile the last of his awkward feelings. Snape was the closest thing he had to a father, even more so than Sirius had ever been, and for that he was grateful to have him.

"You love him, don't you?" Hermione asked when none of the boys responded, and then quickly added, "Like, a child loves his father."

"Yeah," Harry admitted a little sheepishly, "I really do."

The Gryffindor witch smiled warmly at him, but didn't say another word about it.

"So, what's next?" Dudley asked, bringing the group back to a safer topic for the wizards.

"You three," came Snape's commanding voice as he rounded the curtain, "need to be getting back to your classes now that the lunch hour is almost over."

Characteristically, Hermione jumped up and off the bed, clearly ready to go to class, Ron gave a groan and mumbled "see ya later, Harry", and Dudley gave his cousin a small nod before making his way back to help teach Muggle Studies. After watching all three teenagers leave the partitioned area, Snape took the seat where Ron had just vacated, closest to the top of Harry's bed. It was the first time the Gryffindor had gotten to see Snape since waking up the night before and his palms were sweating from his nerves. They still had a lot of air to clear between them after what happened in March and at the Manor only six days ago. He wanted to apologize, and he wanted to explain, but every time he tried, he started and stopped himself. It would have been embarrassing if he hadn't seen a similar reaction from Snape.

Before either of them could actually get a word out, a familiar, smiling face rounded the curtain.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Healer Smithe greeted with an arm full of files.

"Healer Smithe!" Harry smiled at the sight of his first healer, who he hadn't seen since the night his family was rescued and Harry found out he had been feeding information about him to Voldemort. Somehow, none of that seemed to matter though because the fact that the healer was here, meant things were safe once again.

"I've been asked to come back to oversee your magical health through your Maintenance Phase," the man said, opening one of the files in his arms, "though I'll completely understand if you're uncomfortable with the arrangements, and won't be insulted if you'd rather Healer Walker take over."

"No," Harry quickly replied before Snape could answer for him, afraid the former spy would disagree. "I'm ok with it. So, then no more Dr Swanson?"

"Not exactly," Healer Smithe replied. "We'll both be handling your care. Like I said, I'll be overseeing the magical side and Meghan will still be taking care of your chemotherapy. However, now that there's less of a threat around you, you'll be doing your treatments at the muggle hospital instead of here at the castle or wherever you'll be spending the summer."

Healer Smithe looked over at Snape who simply said, "That's still undecided."

"Well, wherever you end up, Harry," Healer Smithe explained, "you'll be able to come to the hospital where Meghan and I work to get your monthly treatments."

Just like a normal cancer patient would, Harry thought to himself. His whole life he'd wanted to be normal, and it was odd to think that this muggle disease was the first experience he got to have with it.

"Now, onto your magic," the healer put down the first file and opened the second one he had. "I'm sure Severus has explained the situation to you?"

Harry furrowed his brows and turned to Snape, "No, he hasn't. What's going on?"

"We hadn't quite gotten to that part yet, Alton," the professor said and looked sympathetically at Harry's worried face. "There's no easy way to say this-"

"Then just tell me," Harry interrupted, "I can handle it."

"Do you remember what Alton told you back when you were given the choice between the potions and the chemotherapy?" Snape asked, "Specifically about how magic reacts to the latter?"

Harry thought hard about what had actually been said, "Erm… that the chemotherapy medications will wipe away my magical signature."

"That's technically correct," Snape replied, and then halted Healer Smithe from adding to the conversation. "Do you remember why?"

The Gryffindor couldn't remember - there had been too many thoughts going through his head at that time - so he shook his head.

"It's because your magic would try to protect you from the side effects of the chemotherapy," the healer finally jumped in to explain. "It's why you felt the biggest draw from your magic during the harshest of the medications."

"But my magic is gone, except for under…" Harry trailed off as he worked his way through the issue. When he'd jumped in front of the killing curse, he had released the soul fragment and with it the block protecting the rest of his magical core. Without the block and three years of chemotherapy left, nothing would be protecting the rest of his magic from getting used up. "I'm going to lose it all."

~~~~SS~~~~

Hearing Harry say those six words was absolutely heartbreaking. The child had gone through a whole range of emotions when it came to his magic: he might lose it, he had a reserve they could protect underneath the block, losing his top magic, and now the idea that the magic they'd been trying to protect was now vulnerable. Severus would give anything to be able to spare the young wizard from having to continue being dredged through these situations.

"Not necessarily," Severus quickly said, "unfortunately, Alton was not privy to the information we'd discovered about the horcrux and when I explained the situation to him this morning, he was quite happy to hear about it."

"There's definitely a chance, and I won't lie, it's a very high chance that you'll lose a good amount of this new reserve of magic," Alton explained as Harry's face fell, "however, since so much was protected during the induction and consolidation phases, it's unlikely that you'll lose all of it. The side effects in Maintenance won't be nearly as damaging as you've experienced throughout the year, as I'm sure you've already noticed, so as long as you continue not to use it, it's my professional opinion that you'll still have enough left when this is all said and done."

Severus couldn't keep the smile off his face after watching Harry react to the news. The question of Harry's magical ability - and its potential loss again - now that the soul fragment was gone, was one that had weighed heavily on Severus's mind since their return to the castle. When Harry was still unconscious, his focus was on if the Gryffindor would survive. First thing this morning, Severus reached out to Alton, who was now free from needing to hide, to ask the very pointed question: could the other, potentially larger, portion of Harry's magical core survive three years of chemotherapy. As he'd told Harry, Alton had never known about the block and therefore he'd not considered the fact that his magic was protecting him from the severest chemotherapy side effects. With this knowledge, he'd asked Alton to come back onto Harry's medical team strictly to help keep track of Harry's magical levels; admitting that ultimately, Dr Swanson was a better choice to oversee his chemotherapy and cancer.

"That's…" Harry started and stopped, overwhelmed with this news. "That's great, right?!"

"It absolutely is," Severus replied. "We'll just keep a close watch over things. Remember, this magic is now completely raw magic and therefore you'll see a lot more accidental magic. We need to try to keep that to a minimum because the less you use between now and your last chemotherapy tablet, the more you'll have at the end. The headmaster and I are already working on some low-level magical exercises you can do to start some basic training and try to decrease the chances of accidental magic."

Harry nodded his head with a large smile on his face, "I'll do whatever I need to."

"There will be loss," Alton reminded them, "just not a complete loss like you risked at the beginning."

"I'll take it!"

Suddenly, Dr Swanson peeked her head around the curtain.

"Sorry to break up what sounded like great news, but I'd hoped to talk to you both," she motioned to Severus and Harry, "about what to expect with the rest of chemotherapy."

Harry didn't look nearly as excited as he had been talking about his magic, but Severus knew this was necessary. Alton took his leave, promising to follow up during Harry's next treatment.

"I'm sorry about getting you kidnapped, Dr Swanson," Harry childishly said, once Alton had left.

"Thank you, Harry," the muggle doctor replied, "but I do know you were not the reason for my imprisonment."

"But if it weren't for me-"

"We'll talk about that later," Severus interrupted the young wizard, hating that he always apologized when things were not his fault.

"Harry," Dr Swanson sat in the chair next to Severus's, "I'm alright. It was bad, but I'm handling it and I can separate what occurred in that house from you as my patient. Do you still trust me to continue treating you?"

Severus held his breath knowing that Harry's animosity towards the doctor had never really gone away and that was when the Gryffindor hadn't been given a choice to have her as his physician. The professor legitimately feared what Harry would respond.

"Yes," Harry surprised both adults with his answer, "I trust you."

"Wonderful," she gave him a warm smile and jumped into her assessment. "Obviously you missed about a week of chemotherapy tablets, but I've been monitoring your blood counts and I don't think any adjustments are necessary at this time."

"That's great," Harry perked up again.

The doctor went on to explain that she'd be back on Saturday, only two days away, to administer his next IV treatment, but then starting with his 21st of June treatment he'd be going to the outpatient center at the hospital in Surrey for them. As Alton had, she asked about his summer living arrangements and again, Severus was vague with his answer. He didn't know if Harry would want to stay with him - at Hogwarts or his Spinner's End home - instead of with Minerva, the Weasley's, or even moving into Grimmauld Place; it was rightfully his anyway.

When Dr Swanson said she and Madam Pomfrey had given Harry a clean bill of health, the young wizard looked just as antsy to leave the hospital wing as Severus himself would have been. Unfortunately, he'd been told he needed to stay until Saturday - as a precaution - because no one really knew if there would be any late rising effects from the Killing Curse. To aid in Harry's desire to leave, Severus wanted to point out that technically no one required this level of observation the first time he'd been hit with the curse, but then as a toddler he hadn't hung in the balance between life and death for five days, so he kept that observation to himself.

Once again, when the muggle doctor left, an uncomfortable silence fell between Harry and Severus.

"Where am I going to stay for the summer?" Harry quietly asked.

Severus knew Harry had picked up on both of his ambiguous answers and so he tried to tread the topic lightly and not draw any unwanted negative connotations to it.

"Minerva plans to let you decide where you'd like to stay," he answered neutrally. As his guardian until the 31st of July, it fell under her responsibility, not his.

"Oh," Harry looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

"You can choose to stay here, with either her or me," he continued, relaxing when Harry smiled that he'd been included in that list. "Alternatively, I'm sure we can arrange for you to go to the Burrow. And once you turn seventeen in July, you could stay at Grimmauld Place, though I don't recommend staying alone-"

"I'm sorry, Severus," Harry interrupted, "for how I acted after the vision."

It was such a sudden change of topic, it took Severus a moment to get his thoughts straight.

"Your actions were completely understandable, Harry," the professor explained, making eye contact with the young wizard in the bed. "Never apologize for how you feel, that's something you can't control. Your actions that come from it can be… less than ideal, however in this instance, you reacted how I would have expected. In fact, it was very much the same as when you found out where I came from."

"So I knew there?" Harry asked, grabbing and releasing his blankets. "Back in your old reality?"

"Of course," Severus turned his head inquisitively, "I told you at the same time I explained my past with the Death Eaters and Voldemort, before I asked you about the adoption."

He could physically see the weight lifted from the young wizard's chest. His anxiety about if their old life - the one Severus knew Harry held in high standards - was built on a foundation of lies had been wearing him down and now to hear that he'd been told the truth, from Severus himself, was freeing.

"Ok," Harry said so randomly, Severus thought he missed a part of the conversation deep in his own thoughts.

"I'm sorry?" The professor quickly questioned, his own brow furrowing as he was brought back to another day and time this had happened.

"I said 'ok'," Harry repeated, "I want to go home, with you, for the summer. If that's alright with you."

"Of course it is," he answered, trying his hardest not to think about how close, almost identical, this conversation was to the same topic in his old reality, "But Harry underst-"

"I know, Severus," Harry interrupted, just as he had in the Potions laboratory before Christmas holiday back in the old reality, "I still have a lot of questions, but we have a long time to go through it all, and right now I just want to go home."

Severus gave Harry a smile with a strong nod of his head. Somehow, with that last word still ringing in his ears, it was like the entire crazy year had come full circle and he would finally get to start living with Harry; the boy who may not be his son on paper, but still held the same place in his heart next to the other Harry - his first son - he would never forget.