Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Foundations

~~~~HP~~~~

Tuesday 28th, October 1997

Harry rested his head against the desk to the right side of the monstrosity his new teacher recently assigned him to work on, sorting through all of the possible excuses to get out of the situation. His first "go-to" excuse used to be not feeling well for any variety of reasons. No one questioned him much when he claimed to be ill, making it easy to say without feeling overly guilty. Fortunately, or not in this particular case, in the days since leaving the AYA ward - especially with his blood counts steadily rising - the young wizard quickly learned without the chemotherapy tablet he took during Maintenance, the debilitating symptoms from his treatment more or less ended once the chemotherapy medications settled within his body. Though he still felt more tired than he was able to explain, his body always ached in some fashion from the cancer, and his appetite became virtually nonexistent, he didn't have the nausea, tingling hands, mouth sores, or any of the other myriad of side effects he previously faced. Generally speaking, the last two days saw a nearly pleasant change of pace from the previous week, but it left him very little reason - or none really, outside of being too tired and for some reason that wounded his pride more than the bloody class - to excuse himself from his latest challenge: Foundations Class with Draco.

Until that moment, sometime in Harry's five official years of magical education, he managed to forget exactly how much he legitimately hated muggle school. Being in Primary School with Dudley had its challenges, and Harry spent most of his class time trying not to stand out or overshadow his cousin; a feat more difficult than anyone realized, especially for a seven- or eight-year-old. Though not an official rule, by any means, he promptly learned trouble arose from his aunt and uncle whenever he did anything better than Dudley. So for as far back as he remembered, he slid by with putting in as little effort as possible, almost guaranteeing he stayed out of trouble at home.

For the most part, it worked until his third year when in an effort to try to understand how Harry managed to answer the problems correctly in class yet failed every assignment, one of his teachers asked him to stay behind after class, then explained to him the value of his homework. Though embarrassing, the lecture didn't make any difference in the work he turned in - much to the obvious disappointment of his teacher - but since then he took it upon himself to more actively fill in the gaps during his time locked away in his cupboard. Sitting alone under the stairs, he used to remind himself of the key to unlocking the cupboard laid within those books and one day, if he worked hard, he'd be smart enough to get a job and move away from his horrible relatives. Unfortunately, reading the theory in a book and actually having to apply it in practice were two completely different scenarios, and for all he knew he would have failed the assignments, regardless.

In the end, it was all a moot point when he received his Hogwarts letter. At the time, getting whisked away to a world where literacy, mathematics, science, and technology - the last one for a good reason - weren't valued was wonderful and never did he expect to have to come back years later trying to not only pick up where he left off, but at the level he should have been at if he never left for Hogwarts; an impossible feat for pretty much anyone… except Draco Malfoy, apparently. When Snape first told him he'd be in a lesson with Draco - scheduled on Tuesdays and Thursdays and taught by a muggle teacher escorted to and from the castle for each lesson - he believed even his rough start in primary school would be sufficient to at least catch up to the Slytherin's head start. He'd been wrong… very wrong. Their current lesson was in technology where they were learning to type using an old-style typewriter. Harry recognized the supposed muggle machine instantly as Aunt Petunia used to use one for all of her snooty invites and formal correspondences, but once again he'd been proven wrong. This version was a wizarding one used by the major papers and anyone else who needed to write a lengthy text in very legible handwriting, such as books or journals. Whereas Aunt Petunia's machine required electricity, the magical version did not, making it compatible with even the largest magical faculties, and used self-inking pads to supply the ink. Harry merely had to connect his inkwell to the side of the typewriter and it pulled the ink magically onto the pads as he pressed down the buttons. And while Draco had taken oddly well to the lesson - using the typewriter to prepare for muggle computer keyboards - Harry's fingers refused to cooperate with what his brain asked them to do.

"Why the fuck aren't we allowed to use these in class?" Draco whispered over to him from the desk on his left. His typewriter clinked and clanged painfully slow with each keystroke. "Think of all the hand cramps we could've saved compared to writing a long arse essay with a quill!"

Despite his flair over the nominal grievance was amusing, Harry slowly lifted his head and peered menacingly over to his only classmate. They were presumed to be doing independent practice, leaving their teacher, Ms Simpson, to work on preparing their next lesson for the week. Harry had given up ten incorrect words later in contrast to Draco who flourished his fingers almost expertly over the keys. Obviously, this hadn't been his first lesson with the typewriter.

"I don't see why we have to learn this," Harry complained. "I thought we'd be covering actual school subjects? We're never going to need to type."

"Speak for yourself," Draco sat up straighter as if offended, "my father's contact at Cambridge said everyone will be using computers in less than five years. Learning this now will put us ahead of the game."

Harry rolled his eyes, a gesture he knew frustrated Draco as much as Snape. Although he had no one else to blame but himself for being in this position, his insistence to continue with school really left no other options other than to join the class, it didn't make the work any more enjoyable.

"Fine," Harry eventually conceded. "And to answer your question, imagine carrying one of these around with you instead of a quill. That's why we don't have them here."

"I didn't mean in class," Draco admonished. "But I don't see why we can't be allowed to have one at our dorm desk. You Gryffindors do have desks, don't you?!"

"No," Harry frowned. "Do you? Do Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?"

"Of course we do," the Slytherin squared his shoulders in pride, ignoring the second point. "Where else would we do our homework?"

"Erm… the Common Room. Or the library?"

"Plebeians," Draco muttered under his breath, insulted by his suggestions.

The irony hadn't been lost on Harry that Snape requiring them to do their homework in their Common Room had almost cost the students their lives. He didn't ask the professor what, if anything, came from the investigation. They'd gotten quickly distracted with his relapse and he knew better than to bring it up now. If Snape wanted him to know, he would have said something.

But would he, though? Harry curiously speculated to himself, doubting Snape's ability to share any information given Harry's history with jumping to conclusions. Perking up, Harry peeked over at Draco - the blonde put just as much effort into typing as he did potions - wondering if Draco had any information he could provide.

"So how's your arm doing?" The Gryffindor casually asked. "When I regrew the two bones in my lower arm I could have sworn they were practically numb for a good week afterwards."

The grey eyes next to him narrowed, then turned to his newly functioning arm and back up at Harry.

"How was the muggle hospital?"

Inwardly, Harry groaned knowing Draco had zero interest in his week-long stay and likely only wanted to level the playing field; his own moment of weakness for Draco's. But seeing as Harry was trying to use it as a segue for other information, it took him a minute to decide if he should play into the game or not.

"Rather boring, actually," Harry offered. "I didn't really have to do anything, so outside of the constant stream of nurses it was pretty much a week of me trying to find things to keep me busy."

"Sounds awful," the other wizard sarcastically replied.

"Don't be a prat about this, I was just making conversation." Harry clenched his teeth as an idea came to him, but he struggled with if he should offer it. Prepared to get mocked relentlessly, he took a deep breath and nervously let out, "you should come to visit next time… uh, I think it's the second weekend in November. The nurses are all really great with explaining what's going on, so I'd bet you get some great experience for your dual speciality."

Draco remained silent, but Harry saw the wheels turning in his mind, again in a very similar fashion as Snape did when analysing any given scenario. To Harry, being a Slytherin looked way too exhausting for him. He'd be the first to admit that as a Gryffindor he probably expended the same amount of energy running off onto his latest adventure, but at least that was physical energy; he was doing something, not sorting through a headache's worth of schemes from some imaginary decision tree.

Just when he'd given up on his quest and went back to the practice typing sheet, Draco spoke, "I bet Cambridge would like me to have some hands-on experience-"

"-oh, I don't exactly think they'll let you touch anything-"

"-it could set me apart from everyone else," the blonde continued as if Harry hadn't just shot down his idea, "give me a little edge, y'know? I think you might be onto something, Potter."

"I- I don't even know how to respond to that," Harry shook his head in disbelief, then turned back to his impossible typewriter. He managed to focus on three words - what should have been The dog goes, but ended teh dig dos - until he gave into the nagging in the back of his mind and said, "This isn't just something you waltz into and instinctively know what to do. They're not going to let you touch a thing in that room. Hell, there's no way I'm going to let them let you touch anything!"

Harry wrinkled his brows in confusion as he finished his tirade.

"Ahem," Ms Simpson cleared her throat from the front desk, making Harry cringe with flashbacks of Umbridge's voice. Forgetting where he was for a second, Harry's face blanched at their teacher's pointed glare. "Mr Potter, if you're going to be disruptive to Mr Malfoy's learning, I will have to ask you to leave. You may have been included as a courtesy from senior Mr Malfoy to Mr Snape, however, my goal in these lessons is to prepare young Mr Malfoy for university and I won't hesitate to remove you if you stand in his way. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry muttered, and focused back on his work, doing his best to ignore Draco's smug expression beside him.

Angry with himself for not being able to pick up the lesson, getting nowhere with his attempt at gaining information about Snape, and being reprimanded by the teacher on his first day for Draco's idiotic ideas, Harry aggressively ran his hand through his long, black hair. Something about the motion calmed his nerves enough to allow him to think clearer- perhaps it gave his subconscious mind something to concentrate on rather than his own failures. Whatever the reason, Harry soon found his parchment contained a series of words which, at least to him, looked correct. A large, proud grin crossed his face as his hand simultaneously snagged on a knot near the bottom of his hair. A subconscious tug through it caused the grin to instantly fall from his face, for in his hand he held more than a smattering of wispy, raven-black hair. He knew the day was coming - and probably sooner than his first regimen given the dosages of chemo he received - but he still felt the sting of the unavoidable, whether he liked it or not, loss of his hair soon.

"Time is up! Please leave your work next to your typewriter for my review," Ms Simpson announced from the front. Harry jumped at her loud voice filling the previously silent room and tucked his handful of hair into his school bag at his feet. His eyes met Draco's as he lifted his head to hand in his progress - or lack thereof - from his first lesson. The grey eyes weren't filled with the pity Harry would surely receive if it were Ron or Hermione sitting there beside him. "On Thursday we'll be focusing on Geometry. Please complete the lesson on pages 192 thru 194 in preparation. You are dismissed."

Resisting the urge to bolt from the room, Harry kept his attention on packing up his bag as efficiently as possible, feeling Draco's presence next to him.

"It doesn't make it any easier, does it?" inquired Draco, cautiously. "That it already happened once?"

Although Harry wanted to fake ignorance to the question, he knew exactly what he meant: his hair. The almost kind - especially in light of their previous bantering - tone certainly didn't help.

"Nope, it doesn't," he finally answered, running his hand through his hair again and returning with another clump of black. "I'll probably just shave it off… at least then it's my decision to lose it all. It's not like I have a choice over anything else in my body right now."

Later, he'd regret the bitter statement, not necessarily for its content but for whom he said it to. Over the past year, as the two wizards moved from enemies to acquaintances to friends, Harry had come to appreciate Draco for his harshly honest answers and logical approach to any given situation. It usually helped to keep Harry's mind in perspective and not to fall into the deep void of self-pity, something Harry feared would be far too easy in the coming weeks.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus stood at the laboratory bench in his old potions classroom crushing the final ingredient for the Pepper Up Potion he volunteered to help replenish for the hospital wing. The turning of the weather caused a large outbreak of colds the previous week, wiping out Poppy's supply to a level Slughorn couldn't keep up with on his own. When Albus came to him yesterday with the news - and request to help brew several batches of his own for Poppy - Severus would never be able to express how thankful he felt for Harry having been away from the school during that time. Although it appeared the virus had since slowed down with only Poppy's stock levels to show for it, the professor knew he would have to be vigilant with using the sanitizing spell on himself when going back to his quarters each night. Harry's immune system might not be low enough to require him to stay at the hospital, however, it certainly didn't mean he could withstand Severus bringing in pathogens from hundreds of students without getting ill. To further complicate the situation, getting the common cold right now would definitely land the Gryffindor back into the hospital - delaying the remainder of his treatment for this cycle and probably the start of the next one - during a time he could least afford it. Not reaching remission in his first intensive cycle would be detrimental to his recovery; a fact Severus didn't want to think about in regards to the dangers of the upcoming Halloween Ball.

His blood counts will be at their highest, he reminded himself with little relief.

Adding the powdered mandrake root at the proper moment, he stirred the cauldron relishing in the relatively normal feeling the last two days of teaching and brewing had brought him. It took him moving two of the detentions Tonks gave out on his behalf to the end of the week - thus moving any he assigned to the following week - but he finally got through the independent Boggart lessons with his third years and managed to get back on track for November's curriculum. It seemed like such a small victory and he felt a little foolish to be proud of himself for it. Nevertheless, he survived the first inpatient treatment week without getting overwhelmingly behind in his classes; and for that he was grateful. This only left him having to plan for the highly distracted week ahead, and on Sunday night as he attempted to find sleep after spending the evening with Mae, the idea finally hit him. A maze. Separating each of his classes into groups of four or five, he assigned them the task of designing a maze using any combination of spells or creatures they'd discussed in their Hogwarts career up until that point. They would be scored on their creativity, the relevance to their current level - giving the highest points for those encounters from the current curriculum and using a sliding scale for each year back they went -, and difficulty of the maze overall. To up the ante and the effort put into the project, he announced the winning design from each class would be used as part of the final exam practical, within reason of course, and the creators would be exempt from this specific portion of their examination; an announcement Hermione Granger challenged as she actually wanted to participate. The exercise had its intended effect and, at least for the two days worth of classes he'd seen thus far, the students were discussing Defense almost as much as gowns, dancing, and dates.

"Back to your old stomping grounds, I see?" Lucius's voice trailing into the room from the doorway didn't surprise him at all. With the Malfoy patriarch needing to help transport Draco's - and now Harry's - muggle class tutor to and from the castle, he anticipated this visit as a follow up to his behaviour at the MLD on Saturday; and secretly looked forward to it for his own hidden agenda. Approaching the bench slowly, Lucius took a visual inventory of the ingredients and condition of the liquid inside the cauldron and guessed, "Pepper Up?"

Severus nodded, "Apparently Horace is having difficulty keeping up with the demand from last week."

"Does that really surprise you?"

"Not exactly," the professor checked in on the potion, gave it another half stir to prevent it sticking to the sides of the cauldron, then crossed his arms over his chest and implored, "I take it you're here to reprimand me for Saturday's incident?"

Lucius didn't react to the pointed statement, not that Severus expected a man like him to. Drawing his wand - a move making Severus instinctively grasp his own a little tighter as a precaution - Lucius levitated over a stool from the far end of the small room and settled in the space across from the professor. Being five years Lucius's junior meant they never crossed paths in the laboratory and the casualness of the other Slytherin's posture on the stool lowered Severus's guard slightly. Severus remained standing to match his employer's posture; he leaned back against the bench behind him with his hands clenching the edge of the countertop.

"Would you like to start, or shall I?" Lucius initiated as he seamlessly slid into his businessman persona. "I've yet to speak with Klaus Heisenberg, therefore you have the first opportunity to explain your actions."

He could quit. Having the knowledge of the DMLE clearing his name from the flood meant he had no more risk of Azkaban than any other year. He could tell Lucius it wasn't any of his fucking business and walk away from the MLD and his research. It would feel good too; to appear as if he had some control over his life. But today he sat on more questions than he had yesterday with very few avenues for answers.

Releasing his clenched teeth, he offered, "I was unaware of your firm… some may say strict… attendance policy. I have since become aware of it and will do everything I can to adhere-"

"Stop there, Severus," the other wizard interrupted. "Shall I assume Heisenberg gave you the impression of being reprimanded for your missed shifts?"

"Indirectly, it led to the altercation in question."

"Then let me assure you," Lucius carefully pointed out, "had you crossed the line in your attendance you would not be employed. As it is, there are certain laws - albeit rather recent ones - preventing me from releasing an employee due to his own illness or that of his family. Outside of myself taking a more liberal definition of Harry's relation to you, the flexibility you're being granted to care for your ill child would be offered to any employee in a similar situation."

Severus remained silent, unwilling to cause any further animosity between himself and the Dragon Pox team by snitching on their team member. Though he disagreed with Lucius's decision to reallocate the potioneers, at the end of the day that decision belonged to the owner, and Severus wouldn't challenge it.

"With that… explanation… out of the way, I'm told you had the honours of the first muggle hit?" Severus nodded his affirmation. "And is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"No," he lied. "It's simple. I started the muggle fight after Heisenberg appeared angry about my flexible schedule. Although he may have spoken some rather crude words, I should have maintained control over my actions."

"How very noble of you," Lucius accused. "Nonetheless, it does not change the fact that I have to officially suspend you. A first offence carries a suspension of one week without pay. Seeing as you were scheduled to be out next Saturday, I do believe that means your suspension will not negatively impact your planned return on Sunday."

Severus blinked unseeingly at the wizard across from him. If he understood correctly - and even Longbottom couldn't have missed this one - his punishment would be nothing more than a written citation in his work record. Was it fair? Absolutely not. But lately, his and Harry's life had been far from fair, and he'd gotten to the point where he would welcome a break anyway he could get it. They had more than earned that right, even if it came at the expense of Severus's pride. Lately, he leaned on Lucius more than anyone in his life, including both of his realities combined, and definitely more so in this reality than his previous one. Lucius and Minerva had quickly become not only his friends but his confidants and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardise it.

"Thank you," Severus responded, turning his attention back to the potion brewing beside him. A wave of his wand reduced the flame to simmer for the next thirty minute until he could bottle it into the pre-labelled phials and leave them to cool. Focusing his attention on cleaning up his workstation, pretending as if the elder Slytherin wasn't watching him keenly, he said, "I require a muggle solicitor. The subject matter is of personal nature and extremely time-sensitive. You wouldn't happen to have a suggestion you could share?"

Finally lifting his gaze, the professor's onyx eyes pleaded for no further inquiries into the matter. The request, though, did require further clarification as the type of solicitor depended on its purpose.

"Finally selling the decrepit dwelling you call a house?" Lucius guessed. "I never understood why you would choose to live there, especially given everything-"

"Even as my employer, my living situation is none of your business," Severus took his turn to impede. He paused to consider his next move and then tucking his vulnerabilities away under his Occlumency, he decided to confide in his friend, "And no, I've not decided to sell it. I want to officially adopt Harry."

To his credit, Lucius didn't scoff, chortle, sneer, or otherwise indicate the idea as a particularly foul one. His grey eyes stayed trained on Severus, so intently the professor half expected to feel Lucius's presence in his mind.

"Are you certain Harry wants to take such a permanent step?"

Of course Severus had considered such a question already. "Based on our recent interactions, I believe he does. Still, I also don't want to present the idea should it not be possible. Before… we did everything through the wizarding world and transferred it to the muggle one later. Back there, my biggest hurdle was my damn Mark, but at least I expected it. With Harry now past the age of majority in the wizarding world, I don't have the option to start here and who knows what the muggles will require of me, or if we'll be able to get it done before his eighteenth birthday. I can't be the cause of any more hardship to him right now, therefore I want to seek some advice before talking to him about it.."

"That's fair," Lucius noted. "I personally don't know of anyone in that particular aspect of muggle law, though, I do recall having to work with an employee several years ago regarding the adoption of his muggle niece… or was she squib?" The man paused to think. "Either way, I know arrangements were made on their behalf in both worlds. I can put you in touch with the Malfoy Enterprise solicitor who had to step in. Being a familiar relation made things easier to process, but I'm certain if she can't assist, she'll at least know of someone who can.

"I will warn you, though, we got dragged into the proceedings when they asked to verify employment history and we had to get a bit… creative in the explanation. As you can imagine, it's one thing to state you work as a Chemistry teacher at a London boarding school, and quite another to prove it. It may behove you to work this out with Dumbledore prior to starting the proceedings to prevent any last minute surprises. Had you been working for us full-time… well… we both already know the benefits you'd receive."

"Yes," Severus acquiesced, "that we do."

He hadn't considered half of the things needed for muggle court, like muggle employment history, a muggle bank account, and Harry's muggle school records. Ironically, the one thing almost preventing the adoption in his old reality wouldn't be an issue here: his criminal record. According to the muggle police, Severus Snape maintained a perfectly clean, no gang history, record. The others he would need to secure through the Ministry, quickly challenging his notion to start in the muggle world and retrospectively authorize it in the magical one. Knowing the Ministry as well as he did, he wouldn't put it past them to intentionally make things difficult in an effort to keep their worlds so completely separated. Never would he call Harry's cancer positive, but there was no denying the impact it could hold on the result of the adoption by caring for Harry's medical condition for over a year, something Mrs Figg wouldn't be able to keep up with.

Lucius stayed until the Pepper Up Potion completed simmering, going as far as helping to fill the dozens of phials for the hospital wing, while he waited for Draco and Harry's class to finish. Naturally, as they worked side-by-side, the Malfoy patriarch inquired about Severus's opinion on the incident at The Three Broomsticks and the injury to Draco's arm. Severus was honest in his assessment of the accident - such as his doubt of it being an accident in the first place - and appreciated Lucius's own honesty in return, especially when the older Slytherin confessed to other oddities happening in his life. Although it had been quiet as of late, only a month ago he'd discovered Narcissa being followed through muggle London as she attended one function or another, prior to that the wards on the west property of Malfoy Manor were mangled in a feeble break in attempt, and several shipping documents from the laboratory had been 'misplaced'. Although Severus recalled the pair talking of the missing documents during his second week of work at the MLD, nothing had come of the investigation - or not anything he'd heard about around the facility - his mind trailed back to the shipping manifest Lucius presented to him back in July. Where had he placed it?

The dark arts book, he reminded himself. And yet he couldn't remember if he'd seen the book while pursuing his shelves back at Spinner's End on Sunday afternoon.

Tabling that conundrum for another day, he moved onto the other two events, of many others, he was sure.

Obviously, the threat to Narcissa's life concerned him and became more alarming with a possible attack made towards Draco only three days ago, but his attention was drawn to the attempted ward breach. Where did it fall in line with the Diagon Alley and Godric's Hollow attacks? Based on the different levels of the spell used, it made sense that whoever did those two had tested the dissolving spell on the Malfoy wards and, proving unsuccessful, altered it to get through the enchantments on the windows in the Slytherin Common Room. It might have sounded like a stretch of a theory, nevertheless, his intuition told him it felt right. The culprit in the flood had to be damn sure the spell would work if he or she went through all the effort to obtain the Obcasio to slow the spell down and find - or perhaps create - the opportunity to be in the Common Room to set the trap. Meaning there had to be other attempts to test it…

Jugson and Gibbons, maybe?

Had the two Death Eater experienced break-ins before their own attack in the alleyway? If Dr Taylor lived in the same muggle community, had he noticed any attempted burglaries or anything that would signify enchantment removal? He would have to follow up with Kingsley to see if any other patterns emerged without giving away the new information Lucius provided. For whatever reason - security, Severus naturally speculated - the patriarch didn't get the aurors involved and although the results of Narcissa's stalking piqued Severus's curiosity, he didn't dare ask. Had he been a gambling man, he would have placed all his Galleons on the situation being taken care of privately, by one of Lucius's men, which begged the question: why hadn't Lucius offered up these details, minus his own handling of the situation, at their New Order meeting over a week ago?


Brewing potions, especially for the hospital wing, always took longer than expected and therefore Severus should have anticipated the delayed return to his quarters. Being at the end of the dinner hour, Harry likely assumed he'd eaten in the Great Hall regardless of yesterday morning's declaration of his intentions to take his meals in the dungeons. Last year he failed to notice Harry's sharp decline in eating while quarantined from his classmates, and Severus didn't want to fall down the same path this time. No, he would learn from that mistake and make a larger effort to support the Gryffindor through this difficult transition. Once they were both comfortable with the situation, he would lean on Harry's friends to be his eyes and ears so Severus could return to his Head of House duty.

The walk from his potions laboratory to his quarters made him miss the short commute as Potions Master. Back in those days, if it weren't for meals he really had no reason to leave his corner of the castle and most days that suited him just fine. Occasionally he regretted turning down the offer to move the Defense classroom down into one of the unused rooms in the Dungeons - for the purpose of being closer to Harry - when he took over the post last year, but ultimately he needed the larger space the third-floor room provided. Not to mention, since the flood, the idea of living under the lake's surface sometimes terrified him and having a reason to visit above the water softened his fears a bit. This new dissolving spell could easily break through the wards holding their home together, a thought he tried not to focus too much upon.

Just as he'd done since returning from the muggle hospital Friday night, Severus cast the sanitizing spell as he entered his quarters. He softly closed the door behind him, hoping not to wake Harry in the event the young wizard fell asleep after his class.

"Well… no… I don't know when you'll use this specific course, exactly…"

Dudley's voice drifted into the entryway as the professor hung up his teaching robes and vanished his files to his office for marking later. Severus paused and held his breath hoping Dudley hadn't come alone. As a full muggle, he wouldn't be able to utilise the sanitizing spell on himself to ensure Harry's safety, so unless accompanied by another friend, Severus would rather the teen stay out of their home; not that he would say so out loud. Unfortunately, the worst case scenario revealed itself when he made his way into the sitting room to find Harry on the sofa with Dudley - and only Dudley - on the armchair across from Severus's. Harry's charmed yellow blanket sat rolled up to Harry's left and beyond that, the Gryffindor's pillow, ruffled up with tendrils of black scattered across it, gave away evidence of Harry's recent slumber; an activity which had taken up an odd amount of Harry's time over the last two days. It seemed no matter when Severus stopped by - whether it be between classes, for lunch, or in his planning period - the Gryffindor was napping, usually out on the sofa. At first, Severus attributed the extra sleep as his body's need to heal, exactly as he'd explained to Harry on Friday night, and so long as the child still slept at night he didn't see much reason for concern. When it poured over into today, though, and Harry almost missed breakfast then had to be coaxed to his class with Draco, Severus started to worry it might be something else; like the Leukemia still taking hold in his bloodstream. With another round of steroid tablets coming up next week, he recognized he should take advantage of the quiet because Harry tended to have insomnia while taking them. Still, he made a mental note to ask Dr Swanson during Harry's chemotherapy treatment at the clinic on Saturday, even if she inevitably gave him the generic answers of: everyone reacts to treatment differently and it's too early to see any results on either side.

Scattered across the table between the two cousins were a set of math books, three muggle spiral notebooks, pencils, and paper, obviously from whatever studying the teens were involved in. Harry appeared frustrated as Dudley flipped back and forth through the notes. The phrase the blind leading the blind jumped to the forefront of Severus's mind, as bad as it sounded.

"I can't see a need to ever calculate the-" Severus watched Harry pull the textbook closer to read verbatim the question he needed to answer, "missing side of the right triangle."

"Quidditch," Severus acknowledged, making his entrance known to the pair of teens, and plopping down into his armchair across from Dudley, "You use the Pythagorean theorem every time you play Quidditch."

Harry's eyes tapered towards the professor. "How so?" He suspiciously asked.

Sighing, Severus gestured for Harry to hand him a piece of paper and a pencil then drew a large, right triangle with a dot on the three vertices. The top vertice he labelled "snitch", the bottom right as "Draco", and the last one - also at the bottom of the long side - as "Harry". Flipping the paper around, he explained, "In a match, if the snitch is ten meters straight ahead of Draco, you need to know how much faster to fly in order to cover the extra distance... in this case approximately an additional six meters."

Harry's eyes scanned the paper as Severus filled in the values and completed the problem.

"That's not how it works," the young wizard disputed. Raising one eyebrow, Severus silently beckoned him to continue. "I'm not doing these massive calculations in my head when I'm flying on the pitch. It's just a reaction to the scenario I find myself in."

"True," Severus gave him, "in your pick up game or even at school, you're not guessing the distance of yourself and your opponent from the snitch, but I'm willing to wager professional Seekers do this, at least on some level, during the game."

Harry folded his arms over his chest and leaned back onto the plush sofa, "Well, I'm not going to be a professional Seeker… or any other type of Quidditch player.

"Ah, I see the issue," Severus gave a small smirk, "you misinterpreted your own question. Let me remind you that you claimed you couldn't see need to use this subject, not that you couldn't see your need for it. I provided you just that - a need to use muggle mathematics in the magical world. With that settled, have either of you eaten dinner?"

"It's past dinnertime?" Harry asked, adjusting himself on the sofa to see the clock on the mantle.

"I will take that as a 'no'," replied Severus, while trying not to read too much into Harry's lack of appetite and knowledge of the time passing. "I haven't either. I'm afraid the Great Hall is closed now, but Dudley you are more than welcome to stay and have dinner with us unless you'd like to order in from your Quarters."

"If you don't mind, I could use the company," Dudley replied. Severus hardly considered himself as 'company' and therefore assumed he wanted to stay with Harry a little longer.

By the time they all moved into the kitchen, three plates of whatever was served in the Great Hall popped onto the table. Unconsciously, Severus went to the cupboard holding Harry's prophylactic tablet medications and dispensed the specific ones he took with dinner out into a small cup.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, then proceeded to take the tablets two at a time.

"Are any of those new?" Dudley softly questioned, his head nodding towards the now empty medicine cup.

"No," Harry responded just as quietly. "Most of the tablets I take now are to help keep me from getting some kind of infection with my lower immune system… oh, and a multivitamin, but I take that in the morning."

The sound of utensils scraping the plates filled the small eat-in kitchen and while Severus appeared to be paying full attention to his meal, he stealthily watched Harry push his food around his plate. A quick shift of his eyes over to Dudley showed the other boy watching his cousin equally close.

"How was your first day of tutoring?" Severus broke the silence next; hopefully some conversation would distract Harry enough to eat as a social event if not for the sustenance. "I obviously saw the mathematical work, but what else did you cover?"

At first, Harry didn't react. In fact, if it hadn't been for the pausing of his fork midway through its dozenth lap around his plate, the professor would have assumed he hadn't heard the request.

"Typing," the Gryffindor ultimately offered. "Miss Simpson had us working on typewriters so we could use a computer someday."

"That's a great idea," Dudley spoke out. "Professor Burbage has wanted to start teaching typing but hadn't thought of a way to do it without the keyboard and computer. I'm guessing she managed to get a couple that don't plug in?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "I thought it would just be an older version of the one Aunt Petunia had, but it was actually a magical one. I guess they're used at the Daily Prophet-"

"And the Ministry," Severus added.

"Really?"

"Of course," he scoffed, "You can't seriously think Kingsley writes up every single auror report by hand?"

Harry shrugged, "I mean… I kinda assumed he did. Why would I think differently?"

The laugh Severus gave wasn't meant to be condescending, yet based on Harry's reaction he obviously didn't find it nearly as amusing.

"No," Severus stated, "the aurors, nor the journalists working at the papers, nor the Minister himself, write out their reports by hand."

"Then why can't we type out our essays?!"

"For the same reason-" Severus started in what he had planned to be a very logical answer from a teacher but stopped himself to reconsider his audience. Changing his angle, he sighed and said, "You know what? I don't know why, Harry. Those blasted things have been around since before my Hogwarts days and we used to argue the very same thing."

The two teen boys smiled and almost instantly the tension which had been charging the air around them dissipated. Severus wanted to take the opportunity to ask Harry how he'd been feeling, but he knew better. To do so would only close the young wizard back up and he'd lose his chance to gain anything. He'd have to use his own unique skills to discern any small signs for himself.

"Besides the typing," Severus continued, "how was the class overall?"

"Seems alright," Harry took a small bite of food but grimaced afterwards. "I have a lot to catch up on, but it's not like I have anything else to do here, so it'll be fine."

Fine. The number one word Severus used to ascertain Harry's level of disparity. Either the Gryffindor hadn't picked up on the over usage of that word - something he didn't think possible based on their conversations over the year - or he didn't care it hid his true feelings. Ultimately, neither of those scenarios were good. Severus listened closely as Harry spoke about the strict muggle teacher and his next assignment for Thursday's class. Unsurprisingly, the more Harry spoke, the more he nibbled at his food until he'd eaten a little less than half of the serving on his plate. Not so coincidentally, the Gryffindor stopped eating around the time Severus and Dudley finished their own meals, confirming the social aspect of mealtime indeed had its merits.

They were mid-discussion about Dudley's options for continuing his own education with the possibility of staying on staff at Hogwarts when Harry stretched and said, "If it's alright you guys, I'm going to head off to bed."

"Of course." Severus was watching the young wizard's exhaustion begin to over shortly before the official end of supper, so the announcement didn't alarm him. "I'll be-"

"No," Harry held out his hand stopping the professor from standing, "you guys are in the middle of something good. I'll be fine."

That word, once again, made Severus cringe inside, but he let it go and instead said, "Good night, Harry."

A weak attempt at a wave later and Severus found himself alone with Dudley. At first, Severus anticipated the muggle teen to use any number of logical reasons to excuse himself for the night, get up and leave. So when he made no effort to move, Severus crossed his resting hands on the table and waited. When he first met Dudley Dursley, never did he foresee this peculiar situation and yet now it felt natural, comfortable even, to spend a meal in each other's company with Severus going as far as to provide career advice between the two worlds.

As it usually did, the former spy's patience paid off and eventually, Dudley asked, "will Harry be able to go to the Halloween dance?"

He should have inferred this would be the topic for discussion. Every time the Ball came up in conversation, Harry's friends practically shot daggers at him through their eyes. They understood his need to be careful, nevertheless, they were still teenagers and their emotions overruled their logic at least three to one. Over the last two days, Severus had been contemplating the same question and his attempts at trying to rationalize a set of criteria to allow or disallow the Gryffindor to attend brought him no closer to the right answer. There wasn't one, of course, especially when balancing Harry's physical health against his mental one. He almost preferred the black and white rules of the hospital - blood counts were too low and he couldn't be discharged - over this purgatory outside of it. How was he supposed to know what would be considered a dangerous situation? And almost more importantly, when should he allow a higher risked activity - like the Halloween Ball - for the mental health benefits Harry would surely receive?

Thinking back to the two days Harry had spent in their quarters, Severus made an impulsive decision and gave his head an almost imperceptible nod. "Assuming he's feeling well on Friday, I will permit him to attend. Dare I say you'd agree with my assessment, he can use something to raise his spirits."

"Are- are you going to tell him?"

"I haven't thought that far out yet," he admitted with an uncharacteristic shrug. "On the one hand, he can use something to look forward to, but on the other, I do not want to let him down should he not be well on Friday."

"So you guys don't know all the answers sometimes, huh?" At Severus's confused glare, Dudley added, "Parents. They always seem like they have all the answers, but you're just bullshitting it like everyone else."

Severus chortled. "That would be correct. We have absolutely no clue what we're doing." An awkward silence enveloped the small table, pinging his instincts to the muggle teen having more to say. To help move it along, he urged, "And?"

Dudley jumped. "Oh, sorry, sir," he sheepishly exclaimed, then pulled a folded up piece of parchment from his trouser pocket and handed it to Severus. "I really hope I understand how this works, otherwise I'll be in some pretty deep trouble."

A dozen scenarios ran through the former Death Eater's mind; the most prevalent being the possibility of the parchment being some kind of Portkey.

"Place it on the table," Severus demanded. Once the parchment lay before him, he ignored Dudley's betrayed expression and casted every single detection spell he knew.

Given his history and the current affairs going on around him, he couldn't be too careful. If he managed to get transported outside of the school, it would leave Harry and the Slytherins vulnerable to whoever coordinated it all. Thankfully, the parchment came back clear of any nefarious spells, though traces of magic were detected within the fibres. Deciding to utilize his wand, just in case, he levitated the missive and manipulated it until enough opened to peek at its contents.

Inter-House Halloween Gathering

Time: Directly after dance

Location: Room of Requirements - think of a room for a party!

A party. From the little piece he saw, the parchment served as an invitation to a party being held after the Halloween Ball by the upper years.

"Why do you have this?" Severus accused, holding up the invitation to better emphasize his point. "Or better yet, why would you reveal it to me? You are aware I am a Head of House and therefore required to report activities such as this? Not to mention as an assistant professor you shouldn't be involved in this at all."

"Oh, I'm aware of that."

Severus ran his hand down his face at the completely ridiculous response. The last thing he wanted to do was be put in a position to either allow an illicit party or snitch on those involved, and now he had no other choice.

"Then clarify for me the purpose of making me aware of this…" When he couldn't say it, his face fell. "Has someone protected this…"

"Yes, professor," Dudley smiled. "Not gonna lie, it's strange not being able to say anything about it."

The professor didn't know if he wanted to praise the group who set this up or punish them. Sitting in his own quarters, with his teaching robes shed for the night, he thought the former.

"Why?" He reiterated his first inquiry. "Why bring this here?"

"We want Harry to come," the muggle teen said, directly. "And my choices were to sneak him out after the dance or approach you and hope you'll turn a blind eye. Harry respects you too much to try and lie about it, so I went with the blind eye."

"I do hope you're aware by now, Mr Dursley, that both of my eyes… and my ears, just so we're completely clear… are fully functional."

To this, Dudley didn't falter, keeping his eyes trained on Severus to demand an answer in his - and Harry's - favour. Severus's previous declaration of weighing Harry's emotional needs to his physical ones definitely didn't help the situation in the slightest, and his pride stung a bit at the reality of getting placed in this position by a teenager… a muggle teenager, no less.

"Will there be alcohol?" Severus eventually asked.

"I can't say."

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't, sir."

So that's a 'yes', then.

"Harry cannot drink alcohol," Severus warned, giving his approval for the teen to go. "And keep in mind he has chemotherapy the next day."

"We're aware of both of those facts, sir."

Merlin, help me.

"As I missed several meetings to set up the damn event," Severus complained, "I've been volunteered to help clean up, and therefore will be staying at the Great Hall long after everyone has returned to their Common Room. As such, I will have to make the assumption Harry will go back down to the dungeons on his own and given the amount of time he'll be up and moving, I likely won't wish to disturb his much needed sleep to check in on him when I return myself. Our quarters are heavily warded, but will always let Harry in, no matter the time."

It took Dudley a moment to sort through the words Severus had said from those he had not. Once he comprehended the meaning behind them, his eyes lit up from the success of his endeavour.

"Thank you," the blonde boy asserted with more gratitude than Severus believed he deserved. Having now completed his task, Dudley stood from the table and confidently walked himself out of Severus's quarter

The professor sat at the table thinking about the day he had and the week coming up - specifically Harry's next chemotherapy appointment on Saturday and his meeting with Dr Swanson's brother on Sunday - over a cup of peppermint tea. Marking would have to wait until tomorrow, but already being the middle of the week meant he'd have to stay focused on the task at hand; something which had become increasingly difficult to do as the year went on.

On his way to bed, Severus decided on a whim to check in on Harry. The Gryffindor's sudden departure from dinner, combined with his earlier conversation with Lucius regarding the potential adoption, left him eager to make sure Harry was sleeping and alright. Hearing Harry's light snoring - and thus confirming the young wizard was asleep - the moment he opened the heavy wooden door didn't stop Severus from entering the room. Since Harry spent the first part of the year in the Tower, the professor hadn't been in the room often, and when he did, it had been to take care of Harry while he was ill, giving him no chance to casually take in the comfort level the young wizard embraced in living there. Using the little light emitted from the lanterns always illuminated so Harry didn't have any issues making it to the lavatory unharmed, Severus took in the room around him. The walls were covered in pictures, both of the Gryffindor's own sketches and magical moving ones, of his friends, classmates, Quidditch teammates, the Weasleys, Lupin and Tonks, and several of Severus himself. The professor's soul filled with happiness at how prominently Harry displayed his picture next to what he appropriately referred to as Harry's first family. If nothing else, it served as proof that the boy living in this room thought about him as family, and an adoption would likely be a welcome and celebrated event.

Approaching the bed, he peered down at Harry fast asleep on his back in a warm set of green - Slytherin green this time, Severus noted - long-sleeved pyjamas, with his less-Slytherin-green blanket tucked up around his waist, his left arm slung over the side of the bed, and the right draped up above him. For the first time since his relapse, even if it were only while sleeping, he looked peaceful and relaxed. Upon seeing Harry safe and sound, Severus could have left, but instead, he quietly pulled over the chair from Harry's desk and sat down beside the bed. So many doubts and uncertainties flooded into his mind as he watched the boy he loved as a son finally find some decent sleep… he wished Harry had eaten more at dinner, wished he confided in the professor more often about his own worries, wished he understood how proud Severus was of him for his continued battle especially given how hard it was on his mind and body. At any moment Harry may decide to tell them he'd had enough of the pain, the fatigue, and vomiting, and choose to stop it all. To continue when the odds were against you took a lot of courage; much more than Severus could say he'd personally ever had, and he looked up to Harry for having that courage.

Being extremely careful not to wake the sleeping teen, Severus leaned over and brushed the long strands of dark hair away from Harry's forehead. He hadn't noticed until then how the scar Voldemort left on him the night Lily had sacrificed herself for her child had begun to disappear more so than Severus's Dark Mark. Harry - as with Severus, Lucius, and Draco - would never completely rid himself of Voldemort and their Marks would forever remind them of their lowest moments. His heart ached and his stomach lurched when he saw the black strands of hair laced between his fingers caused by him softly carding his hands through Harry's hair. Staring down at his trembling hands, he couldn't deny the evidence of the long road still ahead of them.

Harry turned over with a groan, catching Severus's attention back to the bed, and now laid facing towards the professor, still sleeping just as peacefully.

"I wish you knew how scared I am for you," Severus whispered, "and I wish I had all of the answers for you."

Chapter End Notes:
Coming Up Next: The Halloween Ball

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