~~~~SS~~~~

Severus's heart didn't stop its frantic attempt to break through his chest until he stepped through the hospital wing doors, Harry's sphere still clutched in his hand and a million different scenarios racing through his mind of what could have brought him to Poppy's care. Did he have a fever or a cough? A bruise which continued to grow? Vomiting refusing to stop? How long had the young wizard waited in his bedroom when his "call" through the sphere went unanswered before finding help? All of these questions increased his panic and none of them could be answered until he found Harry and assessed the condition he found himself in.

When he first exited his floo, Severus had naturally assumed the Gryffindor got ill sometime after returning from Hogsmeade and therefore ran to check on Harry in the teen's bedroom first. Unfortunately, the calm, empty room and attached lavatory instantly caused his panic to increase exponentially. Without pausing to consider how he'd get to the hospital wing faster by floo, Severus stormed through the Slytherin corridor, ignoring the odd glares from the students out past curfew, obviously expecting to get lectured. Not caring what anyone else thought of him as he scaled the sweeping staircases to reach his destination.

The hospital wing was oddly quiet when he entered, far from what he imagined when he first saw the glowing orb in Mae's flat. Three beds were occupied in the back of the room - closest to Poppy's office, where he expected to find the absent mediwitch - one he instantly knew contained Harry based on the IV hanging on a stand next to the bed. The single piece of muggle medical equipment meant whatever had brought the Gryffindor here ended up requiring the assistance of either Healer Smithe or Dr Swanson. Severus's first instinct was to head straight for Harry's bed, however, an uncharacteristic mop of blonde hair in the bed beside Harry's caught his attention. What could have happened to send these three students - the bed beyond Harry's contained Ronald Weasley's signature red hair - to the hospital wing; to stay overnight, no less.

"Professor Snape!"

In his quest to Poppy's office for answers, Severus embarrassingly missed Hermione's darkened form sitting in a chair tucked evenly between Harry and Draco's bed. Of course, given her relationship to the three wizards currently taking up residence here, the Head Girl would be by their sides and Severus blamed his muddled up brain for being caught so off guard by her presence. Wearing a set of scuffed up muggle clothing and sporting a hefty amount of her own small cuts littering her face, he instantly knew something had obviously gone wrong on their Hogsmeade trip. She didn't stand from her chair to greet him but did close the previously opened up textbook on her to focus on the professor where he now saw the same worry and concern in her face as on his own.

Holding out the sphere, still illuminated in its bright orange glow, he asked, "What happened, Miss Granger? Are you alright?"

The distraught witch nodded her head too quickly. "I'm alright, but…" her brows scrunched and she rubbed her hand across her forehead in concentration, "I don't entirely know what happened… one minute we were all heading out of the Three Broomsticks and then Harry… he had to go get… and the next thing we knew, the stairs just... collapsed... over us."

Severus watched her intently, trying to pick up any clues between her jumbled words. "Did you notice anyone following you?"

"No, I don't think so," she breathlessly answered. Then her face flushed a bit as she averted her gaze and added, "I can't say we paid much attention though."

Tabling the statement and her reaction prior to it, he turned to look at the empty beds and asked, "Were there others injured? Even if they've already been released?"

She shook her head. "No students. Luckily, we were the last of our group to leave. Harry forgot his mask at the table, so Draco, Ron, and I waited for him to go back to get it while the others waited outside for us. Some of the other patrons were caught in the debris, but Ron and Draco took the brute of it."

"Shall I assume the healing draught made them drowsy?" Severus peered over at the other two sleeping wizards. She nodded, giving him a little relief from the situation. Finally, his original question about the sphere still unanswered, he turned towards Harry, "And Harry? What happened?"

She released a deep sigh and peered to her right at her sleeping friend. "Even though the staircase fell right as he rejoined us when we got back here, he seemed perfectly fine and Madam Pomfrey called in his muggle doctor as a precaution, which you can imagine how he felt about that. I guess at some point despite the medication, they couldn't get the bleeding under control, and his healer came in. They said he'll be alright, but he's been asleep for a while now."

Although Harry didn't appear injured or in distress lying unconscious in the bed, it didn't surprise Severus to hear the story of his bleeding. Although the young wizard's blood counts were high enough to survive a small accident, they'd be taxed to fix something this widespread. Keeping his gaze on Hermione, he watched as she turned between her boyfriend and one of her best friends, having never expected to be sitting there especially considering the day they spent in Hogsmeade.

"And you?" The professor asked, gesturing to her still cut up face.

Lifting her hand to the wounds, she gave a sad chuckle, "I completely forgot. In all the activity with Ron and Draco, I told Madam Pomfrey not to worry, but then Harry…"

Severus walked away, causing her to trail off mid-sentence, to the cupboard in the other corner of the room. It took him no time at all to identify the bottle of Murtlap Essence and return.

"I take it you're familiar with this particular potion," He said it as a statement knowing full well she'd given it to Harry in his fifth year to help heal the words etched into his hand from the Blood Quill.

"Yes, sir," she skeptically replied, taking the phial in her hands.

Severus nodded and turned on his heels to go to Poppy's office, exactly where he should have gone initially rather than stopping to gossip - because that's what one called it when receiving information from a teenager - with a student. Admittingly, being Head Girl gave this particular student a bit more authority than any others, still, he intended to get the information from a reliable source too.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he sincerely said over his shoulder as he made his way past Ron's bed and towards the Matron's office.

The door magically opened, not giving the professor the chance to knock, and immediately Poppy conjured up another chair placed next to Dr Swanson's and Alton's across from the medi-witch at her desk. The lanterns in the small office didn't provide much light -they had to as not much went on inside of the office outside of daylight hours - making the transition from the darkened infirmary into the office easy on his senses.

"Oh, Severus," Poppy sarcastically exclaimed as if she hadn't already known of his arrival, "how wonderful of you to join us. I was beginning to think Mr Potter exaggerated about the sphere being able to reach you anywhere in the country."

Exasperated, and mind still trying to catch up from its abrupt change of subject for the night, Severus stood behind his newly placed chair and rested his hands on the back, leaning his weight down onto it. How long did they first try to contact him? Obviously between his arrival at Mae's, or more accurately the removal of his clothing, and locating the sphere while redressing.

"What happened?" He somberly asked. "And not just with Harry. I saw Draco there too when I came in."

"Yes, well," Poppy hesitated with a hint of dismay laced in her voice, but pulled open one of the files nonetheless, "Mr Malfoy ended up with a completely shattered left arm… all three bones from his wrist to his shoulder. I'll be honest with you, he's lucky his clavicle was left untouched, those are nasty bones to regrow… they only keep about one out of every three times without having to be redone.

"I first had to vanish the bone fragments, making sure not to leave a single one hidden, and he's now in the painful process of regrowing them. As his Head of House, I'll need you to sign some papers before you leave tonight."

As inappropriate as it felt, Severus's mind first went to Lockhart's abhorrent decision to attempt to heal Harry's broken arm in his second year. In his old reality, to prevent an incident such as that again, the professor petitioned to have Poppy attend every Quidditch match. Here, it didn't exactly happen that way and no one really seemed to care how easily a fraud like Lockhart managed to further injure a student. Suddenly, somewhere in his own internal debate on if Lockhart's fate in this reality - succumbing to his own backfired Obliviate - made up for the damage he'd done, his brain caught up with the logic, or lack thereof, in Poppy's assessment of Draco's condition.

"Shattered bones from a fallen staircase?" He challenged skeptically. "He'd be hard-pressed to obtain this much damage if he were standing on the staircase when it broke, let alone beneath it."

If Poppy wondered how he knew of the incident, she didn't mention it, simply huffed at his observation. "Well, it's good to see your nightly escapades-" she nodded towards his chest, and he immediately threw his hand to his sternum, noticing for the first time his misaligned buttons from his hasty dressing only an hour earlier, "-haven't affected your deductive reasoning skills. But you're correct, I don't believe for a second the injuries sustained to Mr Malfoy's arm were due to the staircase falling."

The professor glanced over at the other two visitors sitting quietly in the other two guest chairs. Despite neither of their presence being directly related to Draco, both medical professionals were nodding their agreement.

"Dammit," he swore out loud, kicking the legs of the chair still in front of him, sending a loud clang vibrating across the stone walls. Running his hands through his long, oddly tangled hair until they rested on the back of his neck, he demanded from Poppy, "How long will the regrowing process take?"

Taken aback by his sharp tone, the witch replied, "I expect it will take most of tomorrow and possibly into Monday. Growing three bones at once is a difficult business."

"I suspected as much," he closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to regain his composure. Though the other patient may not have been his to account for, still he felt the need to know. "And Mr Weasley?"

"About the same as Mr Malfoy. However, he had two ribs shattered rather than the arms. The boy was lucky he didn't puncture a lung on the way back here," Poppy peered out the window watching over her patients. "The best we could tell, he turned to cover his head when the staircase fell and I believe that's what exposed his side to the bone-breaking curse."

At this point, the professor had to sit before his legs completely lost their support of his weight. Running his hand down his face, he analyzed her latest statement: the idea of the staircase being used as a diversion for someone else to cast the curses. But who was the intended target? And why? A bone-breaking curse was definitely painful, and possibly dangerous if the right combination of bones were shattered and had to be removed, but rarely fatal on its own. As for the target, his intuition ruled out Harry almost immediately. The Gryffindor hadn't exactly been with the group when the staircase fell, and if anyone really wanted to get to him they needn't look any further than his chemotherapy schedule. Plus, Harry, himself, didn't know if he'd be at Hogsmeade until breakfast and as Severus made the decision, he knew for fact no coercion or confuding took place. Realistically, it only left Draco. Although his Slytherin routinely left the grounds to attend his therapy appointments, he typically used the floo to Malfoy Manor, where Lucius accompanied him to and from the appointments himself. It made the Malfoy heir's first time officially off the grounds of the school in a completely unprotected manner and the event anything but circumstantial.

"I take it the Aurors are involved?"

"Of course, yes," Poppy answered, almost offended, "Albus and Minerva were called as soon as reports came in regarding the students' involvement. In fact, they may still be down there if you're interested in seeing the damage."

He declined the offer with a shake of his head. There were plenty of things for him to focus on without adding anything from everyone else's priority list. A companionable silence fell over the odd group, only broken by the ticking of the clock on Poppy's desk. Severus racked his brain for any other details he may want to know, and when he came up empty, he stared down at his clasped hand and with a heavy heart, whispered, "And what's going on with Harry?"

"Ultimately, he'll be alright," Dr Swanson spoke for the first time since the professor's arrival, not giving Poppy the chance to jump in. "His sizable contusions are consistent with being hit by the falling staircase debris. Luckily, it seems being in the back of the group, he didn't get much of the damage." Severus opened his mouth to argue - to point out that if it were true, he wouldn't be lying unconscious in the hospital wing - but the muggle doctor stopped him, "He came back to the castle on his own accord with some heavy bruising and a large cut along his back, but appeared to be awake and lucid most of the evening. In fact, he suggested we try to use the sphere when we needed to contact you and the candle didn't work-"

"-I didn't bring it with me tonight," Severus regretfully admitted. "I knew I'd be in the presence of a muggle for most of the evening and then I'm afraid I… lost track of time."

Poppy's highly inappropriate mhmm made Alton chuckle.

"Go on," Severus growled, "so then what changed?"

"He stopped clotting," Dr Swanson raised her eyebrows, still astonished at the turn of events. "Things appeared to be healing well at first, and we were going to have him stay only for observation to be safe, but then he stopped clotting."

Severus's heart lurched at the implication of his blood acting outside of the normal constraints. "His magic?"

"No," Alton shook his head. "Madam Pomfrey assumed the same, but I confirmed it's still blocked and he has no output of magic."

A sigh of relief escaped Severus's lips over the fear he hadn't recognized was brewing inside of him. Why would they think Harry's magic came back? The block was successful and while they didn't know how long, to the day, it would last, it had only been a week. A week. The longest week of his life.

"So what now?" He implored.

"Now we wait," Dr Swanson ran her hands nervously over the top of her thighs. "I told you when we discharged him yesterday he was still on the early side to release him. If certain things did not happen today, he'd likely have gone on just fine. Unfortunately, that didn't happen and now we're seeing the after-effects.

"For tonight, I started him on medication to help with the clotting and we'll keep a close watch over him. Hopefully, he'll start to see some improvement over the next few hours. I'll be staying in the castle tonight, just in case, so if you need anything I'm in the guest quarters across the corridor."

"So we wait," he reiterated. It seemed to always be the answer given to him: wait.

"The body can do amazing things when it's resting, the mind and body alike," Dr Swanson responded. "Do try to get some rest, Severus."

Not likely.

There was nothing Severus could do to make the chair beside Harry's bed - not coincidentally on the side closest to Draco - any more comfortable to sleep, leaving him shifting awkwardly to find some semblance of comfort and his mind reeling at the recent memory of staying at the hospital. No amount of cushioning charms worked to prevent the crick growing in his lower back, and outside of transfiguring the blasted chair into a proper bed, he found very little he could do to prevent it while staying close to the injured wizards. Dr Swanson may have suggested - almost demanded - Severus's attempt to sleep, nevertheless she did not specify where to do so and while he originally planned to go back downstairs, and probably still should if he wanted to be honest with himself, he needed to know Harry and Draco were out of any danger.

"I knew you weren't going to listen to me," Dr Swanson's lecturing voice startled him. Being dressed in a set of blue fleece pyjamas drew attention to her temporary residence in the castle, and he thought about how often, or not, she had to stay overnight for a patient. "You do know, no one at the hospital thinks you sleep."

He stretched his aching body as he stood to watch her replace the bag of Harry's IV medication; a common occurrence he'd lived through in the hospital, but handled almost exclusively by the nurses. "If you do what I do, you would understand."

"Do you mean teaching teenagers or whatever it is you're involved in that requires my brother?"

So she comes bearing news, Severus secretly thought. All it would cost him was some honesty; a small price to pay to get something productive for once. Peering over at Harry, then across the small space to Draco, he nodded his agreement to her conditions.

"The latter. I may have some other endeavours I'm working through at the moment," he stated, "part of which includes information your brother may or may not be able to provide."

Her eyes narrowed. "Does this have anything to do with the people who held us hostage? Because I don't want Christopher getting into any of that mess. When I got home, I… told him the details of what happened there. He was obviously familiar with him-" she scowled in disgust, a sentiment the former Death Eater shared, "- and told me how lucky I was to have made it out alive given I have no magic."

"He's not incorrect." The muggle doctor clenched her teeth so tightly Severus heard them click. "To be completely honest with you, if Voldemort had known about your brother, he likely would have been killed for no other reason than to keep your compliance to him and his cause."

"But why-"

"He wasn't exactly the most stable of leaders, so you're not going to get a rational explanation of his methods," Severus sarcastically interjected, "and he took pleasure in killing muggleborns - that's to say, those who were born to magicless parents like your brother - and muggles," he gestured his hands towards her.

A pregnant pause fell between them as they locked eyes in the scarcely illuminated space.

"You didn't answer my question," Dr Swanson challenged.

Inhaling deeply, Severus's confidence never wavered, having navigated more turbulent waters than these in his life.

"That's because I do not know the answer," he told her. "I can say Voldemort is dead, but he has followers out there still and things have happened which point to some kind of activity among them. Whether it's as big of an operation as Voldemort's reign of terror was or just a pissed off Death Eater is yet to be seen.

"What I do know for certain is if this is the start of another Dark Lord, I will personally do everything in my power to prevent it and fight against it if my best isn't enough." His eyes drifted back to Harry, he refused to fail the young wizard again, with either the cancer or the Death Eaters. Turning back to the doctor standing with her arms crossed over her chest, he added "What Christopher can provide may very well be the difference between prevention and fighting. If we can put all of the pieces together early, and this is the start of another insurrection, hopefully we can get a handle on it before things get out of control."

He could see the wheels turning in her head as she processed the last piece of his lecture. Her eyebrows creased and she worried her bottom lip almost to the point of drawing blood. Then in an instant, it was gone and her face returned to its neutral, clinical characteristics, a move Severus knew all too well.

"Harry's clotting is looking better," she exaggeratedly opened the file by his bed as she said it. "He should stay in the hospital wing most of tomorrow-" a quick look at her watch, "- or should I say today, and if things continue to progress as they have, he'll be released tomorrow night."

Severus didn't hide the disappointed sneer from his face. The news about Harry was obviously wonderful to hear - except for inevitably having to tell the Gryffindor he couldn't attend the Quidditch match later in the day - but it meant she didn't take the bait on his request. He'd have to come up with an alternative solution to find out where the Obcasio came from.

"Perfect," he sadly replied. "I'll let you be the one to break the news to Harry that he can't attend the Quidditch match."

She finished writing her notes in Harry's chart, then slammed it closed and glared at him, "So you have no problem organizing a rescue mission and stalking around a mansion filled with people ready to kill you at their first chance, but you're afraid to tell a little bad news to a seventeen-year-old boy? Such a brave man you are, Severus Snape."

Her laugh irritated him, and refusing to give in to her heckling, Severus sat back down into his uncomfortable chair and threw the black blanket he'd transfigured from his cloak over himself.

"He'll meet you on Sunday," Dr Swanson casually said, one foot already outside of Harry's partitioned off area. "Six o'clock in the morning at the muggle memorial in St James Park, across from the Ministry's visitor's entrance. I don't know what he'll be able to help you with, but he's interested in doing what he can."

Severus almost smiled in the sweet glory of finally making some progress. Unfortunately, there were still the logistics to consider. "Outside of being the only two souls in the park at the early hour, how will I recognize him?"

"He said he knows you," she said, astonishingly.

That's less than ideal.

With Harry having chemotherapy on Saturday in the Guildford clinic, it wouldn't give him much opportunity to scope out the unfamiliar terrain. Beggars couldn't be choosers, so he'd take whatever he could get. In the best-case scenario, he'd ask Minerva or Molly to stay with Harry when they returned from his treatment while he went off to London to inspect the location. Worst case scenario, he'd have to go in blind on Sunday morning.

"Thank you, Dr Swanson," Severus sincerely told her. "I understand the position this has put you in, and I want you to know that you're doing the right thing. The sooner we get to the bottom of all of this, the better we'll all be in the end."

She shook her head in disappointment. The muggle world had their own demons to battle, nevertheless, they were also further removed from those attempting to live a simple life. Regular people didn't find themselves in these situations.

"Just don't make me regret it," she threatened, pointing her finger at him, then giving Harry one more glance, she walked out of the makeshift room.

Severus sat there rubbing the strained, small muscles in his forehead attempting to prevent a migraine. This latest incident pushed him further and further towards the edge. It had been less than twelve hours since his altercation at the laboratory and he couldn't afford for anything like that to happen again.

"Did I hear Quidditch got cancelled?" Harry's raspy voice asked from his bed. He tried to prop himself up onto his elbows but immediately fell back down. "No one can cancel Quidditch… or so I've been told once or twice."

"Quidditch itself is not cancelled," Severus stood with a sigh, handed Harry his glasses from the bedside table and helped him get a sip of water from a goblet, "you simply will not be permitted to attend the match."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised?" Harry frowned and peered over at his IV. A second later his eyes widened and he craned his neck towards Ron's bed. "Is Ron going to be able to play? He's regrowing ribs tonight."

Severus grimaced and shook his head. "Even if his bones are fully regrown by the time the game starts, I'm afraid they'll still be too new and malleable for Madam Pomfrey to approve his participation. Unless Professor McGonagall manages to delay the game, a feat not exactly beyond her capabilities, I'm afraid Gryffindor will have to fly without Mr Weasley this time around."

Conflict spread across Harry's face. This was exactly why the young wizard had been terrible at Occlumency: he wore his emotions on his sleeve at the best of times and plainly written across his face at his most emotional times. Severus could almost feel the sorrow his child felt on his friend's behalf over not being able to start the season - and not just any season, his last season - with his teammates. Harry and Draco, though, wouldn't get the opportunity to finish their final year of Quidditch, let alone start. It added to the oddity of this unique group of students' time at Hogwarts; never being able to experience one calm, relatively normal year. In comparison, the working world awaiting them would likely feel mundane and unfulfilling. Two things he knew far too well, as going from being a Death Eater turned spy to a professor wasn't an easy transition for him in his youth.

"I guess we'll have to just hang out here and annoy Draco for the day," Harry proclaimed, not lifting his eyes from watching his interwoven fingers on his lap.

"There will be more games to see and play," Severus admitted, ignoring the scowl thrown at him. "Tell me what happened today."

The Gryffindor hesitated at first, but once he began walking Severus through his time at Hogsmeade - including information the professor had no desire to hear about - he began to loosen up. None of the details surrounding the event themselves were much different than what the professor already knew; which wasn't at all surprising. What interested him the most was Harry's distinct position when the stairs fell and curses were shot. Based on the story Harry told, Ron and Draco were standing closest to the exit door, having stopped underneath the staircase when Hermione noticed Harry not wearing his mask. The quartet of friends ended up near the staircase with Harry closest to their old table and Hermione between him and the two injured wizards. Based on this line, in conjunction with Draco and Ron's injuries, Severus came to the hypothesis their assailant came from the side of the stairs containing the exit door; closest to Draco and furthest from Harry when he returned. As expected, Harry's memory of the timing of the stairs buckling, with the possible curses and hexes, wasn't the most helpful. At first, the Gryffindor claimed not to remember going back for his mask. A statement which couldn't be true as it sat on his bedside table, having returned with him to the hospital wing, and therefore his claim of Draco falling before the stairs broke became unreliable; even if it supported Severus's theory about the broken stairs being a cover for the bone-breaking hexes. In the end, Severus made a mental note to prepare for the likely request from the DMLE for Harry to do another memory retrieval because being directly across from Draco, he had the perfect vantage point to see the start of the attack; his conscious memory merely couldn't recall it. Yet another thing he'd have to coordinate.

"How are Ron and Draco?" Harry asked with a yawn. "They'll be okay right?"

"I guess that depends on how one defines 'okay'," Severus carefully stated. "You do recall regrowing your bones, correct?"

"Unfortunately," Harry shivered as his face contorted in disgust. "It was awful."

The chuckle which escaped Severus's mouth wasn't from humour. The sound came from knowing how close Harry had come to dying - from the staircase causing his bleeding, to getting hit by a stray spell - and how neither the young wizard nor the person throwing the curses understood it.

"Uh, Severus?" Harry suspiciously asked. Only then did the professor realize his chuckle had turned into a full laugh. "Are-are you alright? Maybe you need-"

"You were lucky today, Harry," Severus said at the tail end of his cackles. "You have no idea… if you'd gotten hit by..." He stopped himself, not wanting to bring the bone-breaking curse into the conversation as the Gryffindor didn't seem to know it had been an idea. "You were lucky you went back for the mask."

"Bloody mask," Harry muttered under his breath, attempting to hide the sentiment with a stifled yawn. "I wouldn't call myself lucky to be wearing that."

"I don't care about your opinion on it, that bloody mask saved your life," Snape quipped, shutting Harry's complaints up immediately.

"Well... you don't have to gloat about it," Harry rolled over to his side with his back towards Severus and released another long, this time real, yawn.

"Now that I know you and Draco are safe," Severus stood, feeling a weight lifted from his chest he didn't know was there, "I'm going to retire to our quarters. Please use the sphere if you need it. I'll make sure I have it right next to me tonight."

~~~~HP~~~~

"I always knew he'd fall flat on his face, but I didn't think it'd be so literal!" Draco gloated as Hermione did her best to relay the details from the shortest Quidditch match in Hogwarts' history to the three wizards still stuck in the hospital wing. "How's that for some karma?! The wanker!"

"Draco!" Hermione hushed her gleeful boyfriend down knowing Harper - and his equally injured teammates - were laying in a partitioned off area on the other side of the room.

"Don't forget taking down four of his teammates with him," Ron added from across the small space the three wizards shared. "It's impressively pathetic and I wished I'd been there to see it myself!"

All three wizards were technically done with their treatments - Harry's blood clotted as it should and Draco and Ron's bones were healed - but Madam Pomfrey refused to release them until later that evening claiming she needed to make sure the bones were strong enough not to re-break and Dr Swanson officially signed off on Harry's discharge. What was taking his muggle oncologist to do that, he hadn't the slightest clue. Needless to say, it caused quite an uproar in the hospital wing when they heard the news right after learning McGonagall hadn't managed to postpone the first match, thus causing them all to miss watching the game. And seeing as most of their Quidditch-knowledgeable friends were actually playing in the match, their best option for information fell to Hermione, who promised to send them periodic messages on their charmed Galleons to explain what was going on. So when not a single message was received once the time passed for the game to start, and the Gryffindor witch returned so quickly, Harry assumed McGonagall managed to get the game postponed after all. Never did any of them imagine it being due to the game ending less than ten minutes in - eight minutes and twenty-three seconds! Ron kept reminding them - with Harper running his broom into the mass of players while reaching for a "snitch mirage", the term Harry coined for when he thought he saw the winged ball but didn't really, knocking himself out completely. With almost all of their players out injured in some capacity, Slytherin forfeited the match, and Gryffindor won in the shortest game in Hogwarts' history.

"You know this means Gryffindor didn't actually win, right?" Draco leaned over, mocking the two Gryffindor's in the beds to his right as if by doing so it didn't include his girlfriend. "It was a technicality."

"Your Seeker face planted reaching for air!" Harry retorted. "That's nothing to be proud of, Malfoy. Without another Seeker in there, we would have won at some point."

"Would you have, though?" Draco shot back. "I'm telling you, had I been out there I could have jumped right in and won it for us."

On Harry's right, Ron busted out laughing. "It doesn't work like that and you know it. We don't get benched players to use, so you'd be stuck watching your team get bested by my sister."

"Don't you all think you're being a bit inappropriate given the situation," Hermione admonished, her worried face turning towards the injured Slytherins.

"Absolutely not," Draco responded, but if Hermione heard him, she made no move to acknowledge it.

"First of all, it's just a game-" all three wizards faked a gasp at her statement, "and second, you shouldn't exactly be celebrating someone else getting seriously injured."

This time Harry spoke up, "I'm pretty sure they had the same reaction when I got attacked by the dementors in third year and they weren't even playing then. At least we have a reason to be gloating."

"We totally did," Draco admitted, causing Ron to glare at Hermione as if to say 'we told you so.'

"So what's your next move, Draco?" Harry asked, adjusting his position until he sat cross-legged in his bed giving him a better view of Draco. "Are you gonna see if Severus will put you on the team?"

"Blimey, Harry," Ron exclaimed, "don't encourage him."

"And why the hell not?" Draco spat back, feigning insult. "If the lot of them have any aspirations to win this year, they should be begging me to come back."

"Arrogant, as always, Malfoy," Ron winced and held his newly formed rib as he chuckled.

"The real question is," Draco continued, promptly ignoring the half attempted insult, "will I feel comfortable enough to come back. And after this-" he lifted his regrown arm, "-who knows if I'll even be cleared to play by the next game."

Having regrown two of the three bones Draco just did, Harry wanted to tell him he'd be fine but knew the sentiment would be lost.

"Have you guys heard anything else from the aurors? Or Professor Snape and McGonagall?" Hermione's brown eyes filled with distress, and Harry watched her hand casually snake itself into her boyfriend's. Lavender came by to sit at Ron's side from breakfast up until she left for the game, hardly giving the redhead room to breathe; which wasn't exactly advisable for someone recovering from two broken ribs. The event, though, left Harry feeling empty inside. He hated people fussing over him, and he certainly didn't want any more attention than his illness already generated, so he knew the jealousy over his friends dating had nothing to do with the attention... it was missing out on having someone there with him as more than a friend; a concept he couldn't begin to explain.

"Nah," Draco shook his head, "I don't expect to either. I doubt anyone cares enough to investigate it."

"You shattered your-" Hermione started, but instantly got cut off by Draco

"Tell me, Hermione, what did they report about it in the Prophet today?"

The Gryffindor witch opened and closed her mouth trying to find an explanation that wouldn't feed into Draco's theory. She couldn't. Harry knew this for a fact because he searched the Daily Prophet at breakfast for it, and outside of a story identifying the body found in the Devon cave at the beginning of the school year - a 33-year-old French muggle named Caroline Jennois who went missing in May of 1980 walking home from work in Saint-Malo - not a single mention about whatever had happened in The Three Broomsticks was seen. Either it hadn't been reported as a possible crime or the questionable news outlet decided not to print the story; feeding directly into Draco's insinuation of them choosing not to report on it because a Malfoy was the victim rather than the perpetrator.

The reality of the situation made Harry's stomach churn. His own misfortunes with the paper throughout his years in the wizarding world and being called an "attention-seeking-liar" seemed trivial compared to the implied declaration of no one giving a damn when you're attacked… or in an accident. Harry's brows furrowed thinking through the distinction between the two, ignoring Hermione's attempt to maintain a cheerful outlook on the situation to Draco. Once Madam Pomfrey announced Draco and Ron's bones were shattered, Harry questioned if something nefarious occurred at the pub; five different bones shouldn't need to be regrown from some falling pieces of wood. He didn't remember seeing anything, but at the same time he'd been frustrated about having to go back for his bloody mask - Hermione refusing to take his assurance he'd be fine without it because they were on their way back to Hogwarts - and not paying attention to Ron and Draco waiting for him. Then once the splintered boards started to tumble down, he did what he needed to protect himself. No matter how much he didn't want to admit it, Harry knew Snape was right last night: had he been hit, accidentally or intentionally, with whatever Draco and Ron were he might not have survived it.

"He's right, Hermione," Harry heard himself say to try and end their bickering. "It's the same thing we've been saying all along, the paper's rubbish. But Severus mentioned something about the aurors last night, so at least they're investing something."

"I won't hold my breath," Draco complained.

"Assuming you can produce a bubble head charm to go around that inflated head of yours, I think you'll survive," Ron joked. "What you should be worried about is getting your arse kicked by a sixth-year girl if you do get your Seeker position back."

"You wish, Weasley."

The insults continuing to fling between the pair of wizards over Harry's head didn't have any of the animosity or vileness to them as they would have had only six months ago. Back then, Ron wouldn't hesitate to accuse the Slytherin of somehow causing the accident, and even go as far as to claim he shattered his own arm in an effort to sell his story. It was a testament to how far they had come and getting to see it all unfold filled him with contentment. Where the prospect of his friends heading off in the summer to start apprenticeships or jobs used to feel foreign and odd, it now started to feel more comfortable to him. He wouldn't be there - thinking back to the difficult time the boy in his support group had at starting a job in the middle of aggressive chemotherapy - but he would have plenty of time to figure out what he wanted to do with his life and in the meantime, they'd meet up for dinners or holiday parties to catch up on what they were doing.

"I brought you guys your assignments to work on while you're stuck here." Hermione pulled out several books from her bag, handing them to Draco and Ron. For Harry, she'd brought his sketchbook and pencils, softly mentioning she didn't know if he had any school work yet for his new schedule of classes.

"Hey," he heard Ron incredulously ask, saving Harry from having to walk Hermione through his lack of schedule, "how'd you get Malfoy's books? There's no way you went into the Slytherin Common Room…"

Harry pretended not to see her flushed cheeks as he pulled up his sketchbook to start a new picture; one of Harry flying high up in the stands around the pitch, holding the Golden Snitch in his fingers above his head with Harper laying on the ground below him.

~~~~SS~~~~

After the stressful week, the very last thing Severus wanted to do Sunday morning was attend his team's Quidditch match against Gryffindor - going as far as admitting he'd wished Minerva's plea to postpone had been granted - so to say he was disappointed in his team's required forfeiting would be an absolute lie. On the contrary, he very much looked forward to heckling Minerva for their win due to a technicality when she inevitably attempted to throw back Harper's complete ineptitude for flying at him. When the ruling came from Madam Hooch, he played his part, of course, and scoffed at how they should be allowed a rematch, then muttered about conspiracy and checking his entire team's brooms for jinxes, but in the end, he had more important things to do than sit and watch a Quidditch match; the first of which included going back to Spinner's End to call Mae.

Given everything going on, when Severus woke up in his own bedroom, he convinced himself calling Mae with an update after his abrupt departure could wait until the afternoon. He checked in on Harry and Draco - and Ron, mostly because the other Gryffindor was right there beside Harry's bed - and confirmed his agreement with Madam Pomfrey regarding Harry's release being dependent on Dr Swanson's approval, and then he'd need to return to their dungeon quarters for the remainder of the day. If Harry's blood counts were low enough to result in the bleeding yesterday, he needed to be mindful of his immune system, as well. As expected, Harry vehemently disagreed, going as far as to claim his relatively new adult wizard status and lack of school-sponsored classes were ample reasons to get out sooner. But between Madam Pomfrey's expertise in navigating teenagers' protest and Severus's knowledge of the Gryffindor having zero ability to make his own health and welfare a priority, Harry's protests fell on deaf ears. After being cooped up in the Guildford hospital for a week and in the hospital wing less than twenty-four hours upon returning to Hogwarts, Severus wouldn't have been surprised to hear of Harry sneaking out using his invisibility cloak. Pausing outside of the door leading into his home, the professor seriously reconsidered if he needed to remove said article from the young wizard's possession.

A battle for another day.

Walking into the quiet home used to calm Severus's own nerves, yet this time it only increased them. Memories of their summer flooded back to him; times when things felt complicated and difficult, only now he'd give anything to go back. Bill Weasley's wedding and their holiday in France may have been two years rather than only two months ago for all Severus knew, and if only he'd known half of the challenges they'd face in those two months, he would have savoured those moments more.

Being Sunday, Severus knew Mae wouldn't be working as both the clinic and Dr Swanson's office were closed, giving him no qualms about calling her in the early afternoon hours. Still, he certainly didn't anticipate her answering on the first ring, and couldn't hold back his smile hearing the concern laced within her voice.

"Hey, Sev," she said in a low voice and the professor could almost picture her sitting on her bed with the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder. "How's Harry? What happened?"

"You'll probably get the details tomorrow, but Harry's fine," he replied and allowed his own relief over the situation to consume him. "There was an incident involving several students while spending time off school grounds. Luckily, Harry only had some surface wounds, but one of the students in my dorm - the son of a good friend of mine, actually - was more seriously hurt. Everyone is expected to make a full recovery."

Silence greeted him on the other side, so quiet he thought perhaps the line had cut out unexpectedly.

"Mae?" He pulled the receiver from his ear, cursing himself for such an idiotic move. Speaking back into it, he asked, "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry," she sounded distracted, putting Severus on edge. "That's two major accidents you guys have had in the last month. Is your school always this dangerous?"

If you only knew, he wanted to say, but of course, he couldn't.

"What can one expect when you have a bunch of teenagers with their Head of House distracted?" He rationalized. "Having been away most of last week, I half expected to return to a hostile takeover."

Mae laughed, "Are they really that bad?"

Severus thought back to his worst days as a Head of House, then even further back as a Slytherin student. Even at the best of times they were challenging and ultimately he'd need to discuss alternative arrangements - an Assistant Head of House - to help him out; his prefects could only do so much.

"Fortunately," Severus sighed, "by now most of my students know not to step out of line, nonetheless, they're still teenagers who knew they were less supervised than normal. It could have been a lot worse."

"Well I'm glad everyone is alright," Mae said, and Severus could hear the hesitation in her voice, so he waited for her to continue. "What was that thing? The orange ball."

Her nervousness about the inquiry couldn't be more obvious. Though it made sense she'd inevitably want to know the details regarding the sphere, he hadn't yet considered a muggle equivalent for the device. Thinking quickly, he tried to remember the term Arthur used to describe the phone message system he currently used with Mae.

"It's like a pager," he described, probably a bit too emphatically to sound convincing. He didn't need to be in front of her to know she was squinting her eyes at the empty space across her room, deciphering his reasoning. "Harry has one too and if he needs me he can activate it to illuminate."

"Like a baby monitor," she suggested, resulting in Severus physically cringing at the thought of Harry's face if he heard the comparison. "How does it work? Seems like a long distance for something that's not phone based."

The posed question came through more as fascination than doubt, alleviating his issue about keeping her as far from the magical world as possible. Relaxing back into the armchair in his sitting room, he gave a small laugh. "Honestly, I don't know. A friend from school offered them when Harry was diagnosed and I didn't think to question him. My expertise is in chemistry - I do not claim to have any valuable knowledge in electronics."

It was as close to the truth as he could get and that frustrated him. He shouldn't have to lie to the woman he loved about such a major part of his life.

Yet another battle for yet another day.

"Somehow I doubt that," Mae laughed, then turned serious and asked. "How's your plumbing skills?"

It was Severus's turn to be cautious. Any of his plumbing woes - and in a house in Spinner's End's condition there had been plenty to deal with - were always easily fixed via magic. As long as no electronics were involved, most of his house repairs were done magically and therefore he'd never taken any interest in learning any muggle repair skills.

"Mediocre, at best," he answered honestly. "Why?"

The sigh coming through the phone sounded odd compared to her normally boisterous personality.

"We broke a pipe… or more accurately, a pipe broke, in our upstairs lavatory," she began, and then in a nervous tone quickly continued, "we had water pouring out all over the floor and it took us forever to figure out how to turn it off. Jess called a plumber, but she's at the hospital this afternoon… not that she knows jack about this stuff either… and don't exactly want to call my father, but I feel like I should know at least something about it all before the plumber gets here-"

"Would you like me to stop by?" Severus interrupted her. "I may not be much help with the pipe, but I don't exactly like the no idea of you being alone when this person stops by either."

"I've been doing this for years, y'know. I don't need a knight in shining armour to come to rescue me," she huffed, but he could tell she wasn't entirely offended by his offer either. "What I need is someone who knows enough about plumbing so I know I won't get ripped off by the work getting done."

Severus considered her request. "I may not be able to verify with any degree of certainty the work getting done is correct, or that you won't be overcharged for it, however, I am very skilled at knowing when someone is lying-"

"From your super-secret spy days, Mr Potter?"

He laughed. "Something like that."

"Well…" she lengthened the ending of the word, giving her time to speak, "as long as you're sure everything is handled there, I'm not about to turn down your company. I'll warn you though, spending a week having dinner at the hospital, followed by getting to see you on both weekend days is setting a bit of a large precedent. I may start to think you're clingy."

"Clingy?!" Severus exclaimed. "I am far from clingy. And I contest the idea of dinner in a hospital cafeteria counting as a date in anyone's mind."

"Hey now," his girlfriend feigned insult, "Most weeks, I eat in that cafeteria more often than I do at home." Another round of laughter. "So when do you think you can realistically be here?"

The simple question couldn't be any further from simple to answer. If he didn't have to hide, he'd be there in a matter of seconds. Nevertheless, doing so may make her more than a little suspicious or make him look like a stalker. How long was reasonable for it to take to travel using muggle transportation from a boarding school in London to her flat in Guildford?

I should have known this already.

"About an hour?" He suggested, hoping his vague memory of geography got him close enough to sound logic.

"Sounds perfect," she said cheerfully over the phone, "the plumber gave Jess some bloody four-hour window which starts in…" her voice trailed off as she looked for the time, "...thirty minutes… so I should let you go. I really do appreciate it, Sev."

"It's really not a problem," he smiled sincerely into the phone, "I'll see you soon."

"Sounds good… I love you, bye," she rapidly said and hung up the phone, not giving him a chance to respond.

Staring down at the receiver in his hand, Severus felt his face flush. His girlfriend's small display of her insecurity made him love her more, and when he placed the receiver back on the base he wished he were able to disapparate there immediately. Living a week fully immersed in the muggle world made going back to straddling the two worlds more difficult than he ever anticipated. It proved to him that while he could live there with Mae, he would end up missing his magical life too much.

Tabling those thoughts for a time he had less haziness clouding his judgement, Severus pulled his charmed Galleon from his pocket and wrote:

SS: Any news from Swanson?

To fill in the time waiting for Harry's reply - assuming the young wizard had his own galleon in his possession, to begin with - the professor paced around his sitting room. There were still so many things he needed to focus on and at the same time thinking clearly about them became challenging. Tomorrow he'd be back to teaching, standing in front of the students he promised to help get them through the year. Selecting several books to get a head start on next month's lessons, he already dreaded the upcoming week. With the Halloween Ball on Friday, all of the professors were guaranteed a significant lack of attention span from their pupils - declining as the week progressed - on any book work assigned. He'd need to get creative if he had any hope of achieving some kind of progress with the students. This week he needed to finish up his small groups on Boggarts in order to hit his completion goal of November. By refusing to do them as a class, a decision he still stood by, meant he needed an alternative plan for the rest of the students; one not including any essays. Thumbing across the shelf he threw around ideas regarding creative games or puzzles he could have them work on, but nothing stuck out to him. Then he had the issue with his seventh year class. The notes from Tonks emphasized, more than once, how they caused quite the commotion about missing their bi-weekly duelling. He'd intentionally left that piece off her lesson plan for the week because he really didn't want to bring in another opinion into his practicum. A Hufflepuff Auror might as well be an oxymoron and he did not need her input on his methods.

The Galleon warming up in his hand turned his attention back to the present and not trying to solve his week's problems in the span of an hour.

HP: She finally released me and I'm home. Everything is healing now, but I'm under strict rules to rest tonight.

The fact Harry had shared the last bit of information told him the Gryffindor must have really been worn out from the events of the previous day.

SS: I don't want you to leave our quarters tonight. You don't have muggle class until Tuesday, so I expect you to be resting as much as possible until then.

HP: sure thing... Where are you?

SS: Spinner's End. Will you be alright for a couple of hours or do you need me home?

HP: I'll be fine. Is everything ok?

SS: yes. Mae has a plumbing issue at her flat and asked me to stop by.

HP: uh… I mean this in the best way possible… but, do you even know anything about muggle plumbing?

SS: you're lucky I'm not there. It's a long story.

HP: let me guess, same as last night, huh? Should I not wait up for you?

Severus shook his head - the image of his mismatched shirt buttons jumped to the forefront of his mind - equally mortified and amused.

SS: I have to go. Call to the kitchens for dinner, take your evening medicine, and you may have your friends over, but they need to use the sanitizing charm and are limited to the sitting room or your bedroom.

HP: … can they use the loo?

SS: I'll see you later.

HP: have fun… but not too much!