Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: After reviewing my outline for the end of the fic, based on the overall theme of what's coming up, I've decided to give Harry a bit of a pairing (slow, slow burn). By now, I'm sure you've realized romance is a central topic, and Harry has had his challenges with coming to terms on if he can balance a relationship with everything going on. I promise, it's a small part of the rest of the story, but it will add some depth to Harry's character by the end.
A Good Day

~~~~SS~~~~

Wednesday 19 November 1997

Hi Sev,

It's me… which I'm sure you already know because I doubt you get many other phone calls. How does this call get to you by the way? I'm pretty sure this isn't a number for… you're in Scotland, right?

Anyway, I wanted to check in on how you and Harry were doing since being back home… or at school…. I should really just hang up now. Seriously, though, nothing urgent is going on here. Jess got back from her parents' yesterday morning and, of course, she noticed the fixed window immediately. I told her you came by on Friday, that we worked everything out and you fixed it for us over the weekend. She was a bit hesitant at first, but I don't think she'll question it anymore.

Erm… I really miss you Sev and I hope you're having a good week. Try not to be too hard on the kids… teenage years were the absolute worst… plus if you have to babysit a ton of detentions, you'll have less time to call me back!

Hope to hear from you soon! I love you!

By the time Severus finished reading the missive from Mae's missed call, the professor had little chance of hiding the smile it left upon his face. If only he'd received the missive fifteen minutes sooner, he might have been able to make the trip back to Spinner's End on his lunch break with no one the wiser. Unfortunately, with his seventh years walking into the classroom any minute, his girlfriend needed to wait.

As enthusiastic as he felt for the lessons ahead, he couldn't deny his latest idea made his last two days extremely hectic and significantly more difficult. The professor never recalled being more thankful to have an actual day off than on Monday. With Harry home and mostly settled - albeit spending most of his days either sleeping or relentlessly complaining about having to remain in their quarters - Severus had fully intended on using the extra downtime to catch up on his literal mountain of marking stacked up high upon his desk. As originally planned, he woke up early to have breakfast in the Great Hall with the rest of the staff, then opting to stay focused as much as possible, he closed himself off into his office to start the laborious task of reading essay after essay. However, much to his surprise, less than an hour into his second years' essays he came to a very logical, possibly toxic, conclusion: outside of a handful of students in the school's entirety, they hated writing the damn essays as much he despised reading them. A quick shuffle through the stacks of parchment littered across his desk blatantly revealed to him how his absence over the previous seven school days left them working on considerably more bookwork than usual. He paced his small office, desperate to come up with some way to return to counterbalance the monotony of their work lately. Out of nowhere, the smallest spark of an idea flickered to life into Severus's head, which he hesitantly nourished until it quickly consumed him. The overall concept seemed too easy: to provide his classes with at least a week, possibly two, of solely practical hands-on lessons. And as an added benefit, all practical work meant almost no additional essays, allowing him to spread out his current marking over the next fortnight. It was a win-win situation if he'd ever seen one.

Promptly, Severus threw out his lesson plans for the week and gladly shifted his focus to begin what soon became an immersive dive into different defensive strategies. In a matter of hours, he created a set of custom practical exercises for each year based on their current course level and their previous lessons, but most of his day - and the real reason he needed Monday free to organize it - went into his seventh years' lessons. To truly challenge his favourite class, he came up with the idea of Dark Creature Duelling: a team exercise battling an unknown set of dark creatures. In short, he'd conceal anywhere from one to four dark creatures to be revealed right before they began the duel. The need for quick reactions combined with a large repertoire of spells made it an ideal way to prepare this extraordinary group for their upcoming N.E.W.T.s. Fully aware of the potential risk an activity such as this created, Severus was genuinely astounded when the Headmaster agreed on three conditions: Severus received the proper permissions from the Ministry to bring in the requested list of creatures, two other professors - Albus being one of them - were present during the lessons to help if needed, and he provided the students with at least some sort of clues to the creature they'd be facing. And so after a not so quick visit to the Ministry and a trip to Diagon Alley later, followed by completing the hardest set of riddles he'd ever made, Severus was ready for one of the most thrilling classes of his career; one he wouldn't risk delaying, even if it meant waiting until tomorrow to speak to Mae.

"Find an open desk as quickly as possible," Severus hastily demanded as soon as the students arrived.

The teens barely made it past the threshold when their loud myriad of conversations - mostly still centred around their lunch gossip - abruptly stopped, flooding the room into an eerie silence. All of their eyes widened at the odd classroom setup, a telling sign of the non-lectured course they'd soon be in. He arranged the desk in pod formations and pushed out as far against the edges of the room to provide a large clearing in the middle for them to use as their arena. As if the room configuration wasn't a big enough clue to the large-scale practical-focused class, the series of vastly different, magically expanded trunks lining the space between Severus's desk and the closest pod certainly confirmed they wouldn't be staring at a blackboard this week. He decorated each trunk uniquely to reflect the creature contained within - an idea Harry suggested after the Gryffindor wandered into Severus's office yesterday evening during his final preparations - and rattled loudly from the creature, or creatures, contained inside of them. Severus took too much joy in watching each person eye the trunks as they slowly crossed the floor, their expressions mixed equally with curiosity and fear.

"Please find a seat," Severus urged. "For efficiency to move onto more thrilling endeavours than selecting your seat, the pod you choose now will not impact today's exercise."

The assurance of not being locked into a group without knowledge of the challenge they'd face quickly eased their worry and, in less than two minutes, everyone sat in their temporary place, all just as eager to begin as their professor. Unsurprisingly, Draco accompanied Hermione to the pod where Ron, Lavender, and Dean were already seated. What perplexed the professor, though, was Blaise Zabini's gesture to Davis, Greengrass, Parkinson to move to the pod one away from Draco, leaving a pack of Hufflepuffs separating the two opposing groups. Neither the Slytherins nor the Gryffindors acknowledged the move, but the shuffle, and its significance, did not go unnoticed.

Overall, the house meeting with his Slytherins on Sunday evening to announce Draco's return went relatively uneventfully. If any of them had nefarious motives towards their classmate, they didn't let on enough for Severus to pick up - admittedly, though, as Slytherins, they plausibly wouldn't make that information public - and most of the talk in the common room since seemed centred around Draco's return as their Seeker for the match against Ravenclaw on Saturday. Still, to see such a public display of support for the Malfoy heir left Severus suspicious of their motives.

"What's in those, Professor?" Dean Thomas courageously spoke up first, motioning to the line of trunks.

Severus stood, tabling his interesting observations of the members of his own house, and entered their makeshift arena. With his hands clasped behind his back, Severus began walking along the perimeter to address his students. "That, Mr Thomas," he announced, "will be the subject of our lessons for the next week or two."

"If you ask me, it doesn't sound like you answered his question," Ron Weasley boisterously remarked, earning him a laugh out of Lavender sitting on his right followed by a sharp slap on the back of his head from Hermione behind him. The redhead must have been used to his best friend's reactions at this point because he hardly flinched at her hit.

"Good thing no one asked you, Weasley!" Parkinson modestly defended Severus, fascinating the professor nearly as much as her relocation closer to Draco's pod.

In favour of moving things along, Severus ignored the bantering Parkinson's retort caused and swished his wand at the blackboard to automatically produce a list of every single dark creature in the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum.

"To answer your inquiry, Mr Thomas, secured away in these trunks are a random assortment of the dark creatures listed on the board," Severus's deep voice grabbed the attention of the room, every student now hanging onto his words. "In a few moments, I'm going to have you pair off into groups of three and I will assign each team a trunk. Then, one at a time, you and your teammates will come into the circle to attempt to overthrow whatever creatures come out of it."

He paused, allowing the reality of what they soon faced to sink in and to wait for Hermione's inevitable complaint. However, the honour of being the first to challenge him went to Seamus Finnegan.

"So we're just supposed to walk up to one of these trunks and battle whatever comes out… with no idea of what's in it?!" Seamus exclaimed.

"Not exactly, Mr Finnigan," Severus said. "As you'll soon see, I've attached a card to the top of each trunk with a unique puzzle for you to solve. This puzzle, or riddle, will aid you in identifying the creature inside before you begin the challenge. Once all the teams are in place, I'll provide you with your container number. You'll then have the first part of the class to work to identify your creature, or creatures, and create a strategy to subdue them. Therefore, the sooner you solve the clues to the riddle, the more opportunities you will have to plan."

The murmurs filtering through the classroom held an exciting vibration within them and Severus would be lying if he said their obvious praise didn't make him feel worthy of his post.

"H- how many creatures are in there?"

Severus prided himself when he heard Neville's nervous stutter, laced with a side of enthusiasm he'd never seen in the Gryffindor.

"Between one and four individuals," Severus answered, then quickly added, "although there are no more than two species of Dark Creatures in one container."

Hermione's hand immediately raised into the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Well," she started, in the tone she reserved for when she was about to correct someone, "it's just… how often do you honestly expect us to encounter two different Dark Creature species simultaneously?"

Severus resisted the urge to pinch his eyes closed.

The Gryffindors are feeling particularly argumentative today, aren't they?

"I'll agree it is highly unlikely," the professor admitted. "However, if you do not find this lesson worth your while, we can certainly go back to the lectures I originally had planned on Inferi revision."

"No!" The class collectively yelled, shooting Hermione harsh glares from all angles of the room. The Gryffindor witch's cheeks reddened in response.

"I'll take that as my queue to continue," Severus said, pacing around the circle. "Now, although I am allowing you to select your teams, I have two rules to abide by. First, I will not allow any… couples… to be paired together in a team. Given the dangerous nature of these creatures, every single one of you needs to be focused on overcoming them and not on protecting whomever you happen to be involved with this week. My judgement, and my judgement alone, will be the final determination. If I believe any one person on the team might be a liability to the other two, I will swap out whomever as I see fit.

"Second, and this is more advice than a rule. I caution you to select your partners wisely. To have the best opportunity of success, you want to surround yourself with those you trust-'' he couldn't avoid scrutinizing Blaise's pod for a second too long, "- and those who complement your own skill set. Trust me, this is not an opportunity for you to show off any fancy spell work. To successfully pass this practical, you'll need to think critically to identify your creatures, quickly to prioritize their threat, sort through the potential spells you can use, and select your best defensive move. In the end, this is a team exercise and you either all pass together or you fail together."

"Finally, should you need assistance in either solving your riddle or subduing your creatures," Severus continued to pace the room as he lectured, "Professor McGonagall, the headmaster, and myself will be around for support as your mentors. Please take our availability seriously and ask for help should you feel you might be unprepared to safely battle your creatures. I do not want to send anyone to the hospital wing unnecessarily because of stubborn pride."

Collectively, the students looked around at the Gryffindors in the room, particularly Neville. Right as Severus decided to "highly suggest" Minerva as Neville's team mentor - willing to go as far as assigning her to his team if it came to it - a knock on the door signalled the other professors' arrival.

Let the games begin!


The adrenaline rush the seventh-year class gave Severus lasted him nearly all the way through his mandatory office hours following the lesson. Overall, he deemed duelling a success with the students walking out elated and all enthusiastic to continue on Friday afternoon. And while the rush certainly helped him make it through the rest of his day, the crash afterwards hit him hard, leaving his mind in a sort of hazy exhaustion - the physical, almost satisfying kind as opposed to the mentally taxing type of his previous two weeks - and had him contemplating his best excuse to get out of dinner in the Great Hall. Naturally, Harry was always a perfectly built-in reason to avoid any of his commitments. As of yesterday's blood count test, Alton still had not approved the young wizard to leave their quarters, therefore no one would ever question if he said the young wizard needed him. His issue was that for each day the Gryffindor had been home from the hospital, he became stronger and his outlook regarding his future brightened. This meant the last thing either of them needed was for Severus to mess with some sort of universe karma, all because the professor didn't feel like attending dinner with his colleagues.

The Slytherins today surely gave me a good reason to be there, he admitted to himself as he rounded the corner and passed the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room towards his quarters.

What started with Blaise orchestrating the Slytherin pod move ended with Draco, Blaise, and Tracy Davis grouping up on a team; one who worked cohesively enough to identify and overcome their creatures the fastest. Looking back on the disposition of his Slytherin students, if their willingness to trust each other behind their backs meant anything, it appeared the newest Slytherin Seeker was rejoining his ranks in the Dungeons. Therefore, between not fully trusting their intentions at face value and not wanting to unintentionally cause any harm to Harry - no matter how little Severus placed in the karma rubbish - the professor ultimately agreed to attend dinner, then return to prepare the bare minimum for his third and fifth-year classes tomorrow and go straight to bed.

At least that was Severus's plan until he opened his door to the sound of Alton's soft voice gently suggesting, "You still need to stay diligent, Harry. I don't think I need to remind you what a delay in treatment might end up costing you-"

"No, you most certainly do not," Severus invited himself into the conversation, leaning precariously over the back of the sofa to peer down at Harry laying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "I remind him of it every single day."

"Severus!" The young wizard startled, making a move to sit upright until the professor lifted his hand to stop him. Over the last several months, it amazed Severus at how much more respectful the Gryffindor acted towards him compared to the memories of his counterpart. If asked after he met this version of Harry if he believed they'd be able to overcome the animosity built up between them here, Severus would have seriously doubted it. Yet somehow they overcame their past and, although they had their moments, they were moving forward together.

"I take it we've received some good news?" Severus asked, expecting Alton to answer, but Harry enthusiastically did instead. "I'm good to go!"

"I wouldn't go that far," Alton cautiously warned. "Your blood counts may be high enough for Dr Swanson to feel comfortable with you out and moving, but remember, it's not like you're in your private home. The population here is still… well, it's still a full population, which brings its own set of risks."

"I don't think he's listening to a word you're saying," Severus jested at the eagerness practically exploding out of Harry's body.

"Trust me, I get it, alright," the teen replied, sitting up to face them."I just don't think it's much to ask to see my friends outside of these walls."

Neither adult said anything against the claim. What could they say? The request really wasn't much for a seventeen-year-old boy whose friends acted as his first family. Although Severus had no experiences to relate it to, he could appreciate how being separated from them made everything Harry went through harder for him to handle. The isolation, while appreciated by Severus, almost always put Harry on edge.

"Considering your last chemotherapy of Cycle B is starting this Saturday," Alton explained, "Dr Swanson asked me to remind you to completely avoid anyone who has been sick in the last seven days, and to wear a mask whenever you're in a position where you can't maintain the proper sanitation techniques, which, in a magical castle, isn't an issue so long as you continue to use the sanitizing spell appropriately and often."

In response, Harry's gaze nervously shifted between the two wizards, and Severus keenly watched his fingers tapping on the side of his leg. "About my chemo on Saturday," the Gryffindor loudly exhaled, "it's Quidditch- and Draco's last first game- is there any way-"

"I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to skip it this close to remission," Severus declared, unwilling to get Harry's hopes up on attending. "And if you don't go to the clinic Saturday, you'll have to wait until Monday and by then you may not have adequate time to recover before the following weekend's inpatient round begins."

"What about Friday?" Harry pleaded. "If I go early, then I should be fine by Saturday afternoon. I can ask Mrs Weasley, or Remus to go with me so you don't have to miss classes, Severus."

"Harry," Alton spoke up before Severus had a chance to, "I can certainly ask Dr Swanson, it's her call on something like this, but as you know chemotherapy is a cumulative effect, and your counts are taking longer and longer to rebound because of it. You may not be as well as you think by Saturday after a Friday treatment…. What time is the match?"

"Two in the afternoon," Harry instantly responded.

Alton frowned, the wheels in his head visibly turning. "That's cutting it close. You'd have to get to the clinic as soon as they open to get started. And even then, when considering your exam, blood tests, supportive medications, IT chemo, infusion chemo, and then fluids, not even considering how you might feel, you still may miss a good portion of the match."

"What about Mae?" Harry turned to Severus. "Could she help get us in early?"

"Ironically, weren't you previously complaining about the early hour last month?" Severus lamented.

"This isn't just me wanting to see a Quidditch game. I want to be there to support Draco," the Gryffindor defended. "With everything that's happened between us lately... and his teammates, I need to be there for him, and Hermione, if I can be."

Severus resisted the urge to argue how Harry's health took precedence because by now he intimately understood that half of the current battle Harry fought was in his mind. His best chance at beating the cancer correlated too closely to how long his mind and body withstood this regimen - the further Harry made it through, the better his chances were to live.

"Unfortunately, Mae doesn't work the morning shifts on Saturday, so I doubt she can do much there," Severus eventually answered. "How about this? I happen to know the Slytherin Quidditch team is practicing after dinner tonight. If you'd like to utilize your newfound freedom, I can provide the necessary warming charms to keep you safe-"

"But-"

"-I am, regrettably, needed in the Great Hall for dinner tonight," Severus spoke over what was sure to be Harry's complaint of practice not be the same as watching a full-fledged game, "and when I get back - assuming Alton is also available - we will discuss if there is a satisfactory alternative arrangement which does not compromise your treatment too much. It's the best I can offer Harry."

Harry pursed his lips, clearly not liking the arrangement; patience had never been the Gryffindor's forte, after all. Ultimately, Harry agreed, and when Severus bid his farewell to the other two wizards - already ten minutes late for the start of dinner - the professor could see it on Harry's face: he had no confidence in Severus's ability to help provide him with this one request for normalcy.

~~~~HP~~~~

Hardly able to contain his excitement, Harry took the stairs leading out of the dungeons two at a time to make up for his lack of energy to physically run up them.

Despite some combination of his friends visiting at least once a day, the days spent waiting for his blood counts to rise felt like some of the longest of Harry's life. For a man who had once been threatened into becoming Voldemort's spy, Harry found Healer Smithe's morals to be oddly firm. Over the days of his light quarantine, no matter the number of galleons Harry offered to his healer, the older wizard flat out refused to alter the blood results or fib his consent for Harry to leave; likely assuming whatever punishment Severus would give if he ever found out would be worse than anything Voldemort had done.

And he probably wouldn't be wrong.

Still adjusting to the concept of trusting an adult to listen to him, he felt skeptical of Snape's sincerity in trying to find a way for him to attend Saturday's match. He tried hard not to be angry with the man, but the consequences of moving his treatment one day fell solely on him, and he wasn't even sure one day would make that big of a difference in the long run. Maths wasn't a strong subject for Harry in either world, but even he could add up the years he'd spend doing treatments when he finally could put all of this behind him: almost four years. By age twenty, he would have done too many rounds of chemotherapy - in either infusion, intrathecal, or tablet form - to count, so it didn't seem completely unreasonable to ask to see one Quidditch match.

The cold air took Harry's breath away when he finally made it through the front doors of the castle, causing him to slow his already meandering pace. Pulling his knit Gryffindor hat further down his ears and tightening his scarf around his neck, Harry grinned at the sight of the Quidditch pitch lights off in the distance, illuminating the otherwise darkened sky. If it were earlier in the day, or later in the spring, he'd be able to see the small dots of the flyers zooming this way and that as they practiced their latest formations to prepare for Slytherin's redemption game. He tightly closed his eyes to imagine the icy wind whistling past his ears, coming from flying high above the ground instead of the winter air settling over the castle.

Regardless of having walked this route a countless number of times in his seven years living at the school, the pitch felt further away than ever. Determination set, the Gryffindor carefully began his journey to see the Slytherin's practice; a phrase he never thought he'd utter.

If I can go to the match, am I really prepared to cheer for Slytherin?

The quasi-disturbing picture of himself decked out in Slytherin colours was more than enough to distract him away from his body aching with each step he took. He arrived at the stand right as he decided he'd ask Snape to check if the professor had an extra Slytherin scarf lying around to avoid temporarily transfiguring his Gryffindor one to green and silver.

"...swear I thought it was going to be a Cornish Pixie," Harry heard Dean complain once he reached the top of the stairs closest to where he saw Hermione, Ron and Lavender, Dudley and Susan, Ginny and Dean, and oddly Luna - nearly all couples, Harry noted - sitting in a tight circle. "That's why I figured I'd start with Imobulus! If I knew there'd be a-"

"Oh my gosh, Harry! Is that you?!"

It didn't surprise Harry when Hermione saw him first, and he knew that if they had been on solid ground, she would have run up and engulfed him in one of her signature, suffocating hugs; a moment he secretly craved.

"Blimey, Harry! How are you?!" Dean asked when Harry joined the group.

"He lives!" Ron exclaimed, promptly earning him a hard swat across his shoulder from Hermione sitting next to him.

"Stop doing that!" Ron yelled back, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. "This is the second time you've hit me today!"

"Then stop being such a prat."

"I'm not a prat," the redhead challenged. "Since when does saying I'm happy to see my best friend make me a prat?"

Harry casually plopped down between Dudley and Hermione, his cousin greeting him with a strong pat on his back, and Hermione conjuring a blanket to wrap warmly around his lap. With a grin, Harry spoke up, "Since you saw me yesterday, you prat."

"Yeah, well... you're actually here now. It's different from when we're down in the dark and dingy dungeons." Ron's face contorted to feign his disgust. "Who knows what goes on down there in some of those creepy corridors and it always feels so… cold-"

"That's because it is cold. And so is the tower, by the way," Harry chuckled. "Trust me, there's not a single spot in the castle that's not cold."

"The Hufflepuff dorms aren't. They're really quite cozy inside," Susan chimed in, completely forgetting about his cousin's girlfriend on Dudley's other side.

How often has she been hanging out with them?

"She's right. It's all the charmed lights," Dudley sheepishly added. The wizards surrounding him gave a collective ooooh, followed immediately by a round of rambunctious laughter. "I'm serious," the muggle teen jokingly pushed Harry's shoulder back, "you'd never know they were practically underground because the lights are so bright... and, erm, warm."

Ron raised his brows slyly. "And I'm sure we don't have to warn you about how the girls' dorms block the blokes from visiting, right? Or does the castle just assume the Hufflepuffs wouldn't dare try it?"

"Don't listen to him," Harry reassured Dudley, but he was too late. Susan's face turning a bright, deep red meant Dudley didn't have to answer the inappropriate question.

Sensing the need for a distraction, Harry turned to Dean. "So what did I miss? Whatever you were talking about sounded like the start of a great story." The air between the teens thickened, giving Harry all he needed to know about the subject of their previous conversation. Thinking back on his latest meeting with Dr Wright - about him mourning his educational loss - he bravely added, "I've told you guys, you can talk about what you do in class. It's fine… honestly, it is. And I want to know what you're doing. How else am I going to live my seventh year vicariously through you?"

The teens all glared at one another, unsure who would breach the subject first; a fact frustrating Harry. When did they begin to treat him so fragile and walk on eggshells around him?

Right when heaviness became almost too much to handle, Dean spoke up. "They were giving me a hard time about defense class today. Professor Snape has us duelling all different kinds of Dark Creatures, but they're hidden in these trunks so we don't know what we're going to face until we open it-"

"You only didn't know ahead of time because you didn't solve your puzzle correctly," Hermione huffed. "Had you done that, you would've known you had a Boggart in there too!"

"Don't worry, Hermione, we'll be sure to try harder next time," Ron scowled with a shutter. "I never thought I'd see that spider again and then you-" abruptly, he pointed his finger accusingly at Dean,"-go and freeze the bloody thing right in front of my face! If I have nightmares tonight, I'm gonna be sure to wake you up first."

"You can always wake me up, Won-Won," Lavender jumped in without missing a beat. With her arm wrapped snugly around the redhead's bicep, she muttered to him, "I'll sleep in the common room tonight… just in case."

Every single face, outside of Ron's, turned metaphorically green at the comment. Ron, on the other hand, almost appeared happy about it, and a fleeting pang of jealousy jolted straight through Harry's stomach at always being a step behind his friends lately.

"We did something similar in our defence class yesterday," Luna added from the spot directly behind Harry. As she spoke, she leaned down to rest her arms on the top of Harry's shoulder, so close to him her breath tickled his neck. "I suspect we still have a lot to learn this year because it wasn't nearly as complex as your class sounds. We still had a lot of fun, though."

"I think it's absolutely brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, and for once, he meant it, no longer wanting to hide away the pride he carried for Snape. "Seriously, tell me all about it… both of your classes."

As expected, Harry's enthusiasm quickly dissolved any lingering tension around them and his friends began talking over one another to give Harry as vivid a description as possible of what they were working on. They told him all about McGonagall and Dumbledore coming in to act as student mentors for the teams and how they strategically went about selecting said teams; emphasizing how Snape's no couples policy left Draco with Blaise and Tracy Davis - interestingly at Blaise's insistence -, Hermione and the Patil twins on a team, and Ron joined in with Dean and Seamus.

When Hermione took the lead in describing the different puzzles they had to solve to guess their creatures, Harry seriously doubted he'd be able to solve any of them. But being quick at defensive spells had always been his strength, and as they moved onto an over the top, animated reenactment of the duels, Harry couldn't keep himself from wishing he had a chance to really experience Snape's defence class with his old magic. True, he was thankful for his month and a half of third-year defence before he needed his magic blocked, but despite his newer, raw magic being more powerful than his old magic, he didn't have nearly the same connection with it. Looking back on his summer and the start of school, if anything, his new magic seemed to be more of an annoyance than his original, supposedly weaker magic. To complicate the situation further, once he finally got to retrain it again - after I'm twenty, Harry grumpily reminded himself - he wouldn't be doing it in the typical classroom format. At that point, he'd basically be studying the bare minimum needed to pass his N.E.W.T.s for whatever magical career he could get. Therefore, he'd probably be doing it alone, in customized tutoring, and wouldn't need these ancillary "fun" lessons.

Maybe I can convince Severus to duel with me? Or get everyone together to-

Out of almost nowhere, Mae's words from her first visit to his hospital room interrupted Harry's thoughts - 'You'll be able to join a recreational team when it's safe to play again' - sparking an idea into his head. If he remembered correctly, she'd been trying to convince him he'd be able to play rugby again, and he vaguely remembered wondering if the Wizarding World had recreational clubs or teams - Quidditch, duelling, or even chess - dedicated to adult witches and wizards to continue their hobbies after school. Now, taking the idea a little more seriously, he figured as long as he complied with the Statute of Secrecy laws, it couldn't be too difficult to begin and maintain a public magical program. He certainly had enough saved in his vault to get a decent start, plus something like this wouldn't require any N.E. , so he'd have no real issues building it during his years of finishing his chemotherapy, especially if he found a partner or two to cover the magical parts. Suddenly, for the first time since he'd been told he couldn't continue with his schooling, Harry had something to look forward to in his magical future.

Lost in his new idea, Harry completely missed the conversation around him transitioning away from dark creatures and onto Lavender's latest makeup fiasco; where a still-unknown Gryffindor girl spelled her lipstick bright green only after she applied it. By the pained expressions on everyone's face, Harry took it as a perfect opportunity to interrupt. "Do any wizarding clubs exist?"

"Do you mean like Gobstones?" Lavender offendedly suggested, clearly upset at Harry for cutting off her story.

"Or the astronomy club?" Luna brightly offered. "We'd love to have you there, Harry. You can't imagine how difficult it is to find people willing to get up in the middle of the night for an extra lesson with Professor Sinistra. But if you have an open mind, I've found it can be quite humbling. And don't worry about not taking the N.E.W.T. class, we'll take anyone who wants to join."

Ron smirked, leaned over to Harry and joked, "That's because no one fancies freezing their arses off on the astronomy tower any more than they have to."

Harry smiled, although not at Ron's comment, which he normally would have jumped right in on. Something about Luna's offer warmed him up inside, more so than any of his charmed clothing. "That sounds great, Luna. I'll think about it. But I didn't mean here at school. I meant after we leave… you know? For adults to do on the weekends and such."

A stiff silence encapsulated them, and Harry almost dropped the whole subject until Hermione came to his rescue. "My parents are part of a Cricket Club," she announced. "They get together with their team to practice every Wednesday night and have games on the weekends. They've been doing it for years."

"Wait a minute," Ron slowly clarified. "They don't play professionally, right?"

Hermione smirked. "No, they do not. It's for fun. There are a lot of muggle programs like this, not solely for sports either."

Ron's face lit up. "Are you saying we can play Quidditch after Hogwarts? Against other people and not only a pickup game at The Burrow?"

"Well, not now we can't," Harry reminded him. "But what's stopping us from changing that? The way I see it, if St Mungo's can have an entire building hidden in London, of all places, why can't we do the same to hide a pitch away from the muggles?

"And then why stop at Quidditch?" Harry's voice rose, continuing with his plan. "We can have a duelling group or Gobstones competitions, or even bring in muggle football or cricket. There's an entire world of magical and muggle activities adults would be interested in doing."

Ideas of locations, divisions, and activities began flying around the stands. Ginny brought up how much she used to hate watching each of her brothers go off to Hogwarts - the worst being Ron's first year - because of how little interaction existed between wizarding children before starting school. With no formal pre-Hogwarts education, they had little opportunity to engage in activities with other kids outside of their family, adding on the idea of adding a kids' program; an aspect Harry almost felt more drawn to than the one to serve his own interests. Deep down, he loved teaching the D.A. two years ago, and since meeting Christopher in the hospital, he'd taken an interest in the young man's job; inspiring him to consider a career where he could help young kids, both magical and muggle, who found themselves in a position similar to his own.

"Go figure, Prince Potter shows up and all of a sudden we're Flobberworm mucus!" Draco's voice drew the teens' attention back to the pitch as the Slytherin hovered directly in front of their seats in the stands.

The once spiteful comment rolled off Harry's shoulders, and he grinned over at the blonde. "I think it's safe to say if anyone made you into mucus, it was your awful playing," He sarcastically replied. "Even distracted, all the way over here, I saw at least three chances for you to catch the snitch. But I guess seeing as you didn't take out your entire team by flying into them, you're doing loads better than your predecessor."

"Oi, Potter," the Slytherin exaggeratedly said, "that's a big word for you. Usually anything over three syllables confuses you Gryffindors too much."

Draco flew over them to land in the stands. Sitting down on Hermione's other side, he smoothly draped his arm around his girlfriend. Harry had seen the couple together since Draco's release from Azkaban, however, something made him more aware of the public affectionate move.

"In case you haven't noticed, your girlfriend is a Gryffindor," Ron came to Hermione's defence; unnecessarily, if her stern glare meant anything.

"Well, even the Sorting Hat occasionally makes mistakes," Draco flatly replied, before turning to Hermione to clarify, "I think you'd be better off in Ravenclaw. You'd certainly keep better company."

"You know what, Malfoy?" Harry said, "I think you might be onto something and I'll root for Ravenclaw on Saturday instead."

"As if I care whose colours you wear," the Slytherin scoffed. "Then again, perhaps seeing the great Harry Potter and company all decked out in the evil green and silver might tip the Wizarding scales back in our direction."

"Arrogant as ever, I see," Harry shot back. "Glad Azkaban didn't mess you up too bad."

Harry paid no attention to the half dozen stares - from his friends and onlookers alike - their old bantering brought to them. Even if he could never admit it, this represented a piece of him he'd lost over the previous year: getting to be out with friends and be clear-headed enough to meet his former nemesis tit for tat, for now anyway. If he could, he'd pause life right in that exact moment when he felt well enough to laugh outside and found a venture he could work on for his future.

"How does it feel to be back on the broom?" Harry brought them into neutral territory. "Seriously, you looked good up there, but there were three times you should have easily been able to catch the snitch."

"If you think I don't know that, Potter, then you've lost your Seeker touch," Draco answered, his steam also lessened to meet Harry's. "When was the last time you had an easy catch during a game?"

Harry groaned. "Never."

"Exactly. So what good does it do me to make easy catches in practice? I'd rather wait for the snitch to move so I can work on the tougher finds."

"Fair enough," Harry agreed. In principle, it made sense, nevertheless, Harry liked the feel of catching the snitch no matter how simple or difficult the chase ended up being. "So are you guys done for the night?"

"Looks like it," Draco flatly commented. "We've got the pitch booked all week, but there's still only so much we can do in a night. I'm starting to doubt…"

Draco trailed off, eyeing Luna warily; as if he hadn't noticed the single Ravenclaw in their ranks. Luna, though, either paid no attention to Draco's glare or simply didn't care because her attention stayed fixated on something off into the distance. Harry curiously followed her gaze toward the Forbidden Forest, tuning out the loud bantering around him, but saw nothing out of sorts.

A sharp cold gust of wind sent a chill straight through Harry's charmed clothing, reminding him of the late hour and that he'd probably been out there too long. Gingerly, he ran his hands up and down his arms, hoping to stay out there as long as possible. Unfortunately, as soon as Hermione caught sight of him, she "highly suggested" - some might say demanded - they head back to the castle, ending one of Harry's best nights, at least since Halloween and Draco's arrest.

The colder weather made Harry's walk back up to the castle more challenging than going down to the pitch. Although he struggled to keep up, his friends never complained about his slower pace, and Luna, in particular, stayed close to his side. As the castle got nearer, Harry's dread increased, having no clue what tomorrow might look like for him; he wanted to hold on to this night forever.

"You guys go on in," he announced to the group ahead of him when they arrived in the courtyard.

"You sure, mate?" Ron asked. "We don't mind hanging out here if you need some company."

"Thanks." Harry nodded, unable to hold in his smile at how lucky he was to have friends like them. "I need a minute or two more to clear my head before going back in there. I'm sure I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Predictably, Hermione let go of Draco's hand and slowly came up to Harry, now sitting on the bench directly outside of the door. "Are you sure, Harry?"

"I appreciate it," he honestly replied, "I really do… but I know my way back home."

Hermione leaned over, gave him a careful hug and a quick kiss on his cheek, then after one more long look she rejoined their friends, and Harry watched them all enter the castle.

Now alone, Harry looked up at the clear night sky, watching puffs of his breath dissipate away into the dark. No one could understand how much he missed being outside instead of having to watch through a window; either his enchanted one in his room here or the one from his hospital room in Guilford. Something so small that most other people took for granted - that he once took for granted - currently meant so much to him.

"May I sit here?"

The young wizard physically jumped at the sound of Luna's voice to his right, breaking the peaceful calm around him.

"I'm sorry," a half-smile crossed her face, "I didn't mean to frighten you. I probably should have coughed or something to let you know I was standing next to you, but you looked so… happy… I didn't want to bother-"

"No!" Harry emphatically exclaimed. "Yes… what I mean is… I thought you went in with everyone else."

"I'm kind of quiet like that," she matter-of-factly replied. Pointing at the space next to him, she repeated, "So, may I sit?"

Not trusting himself to attempt a vocal response, he shuffled to his left, giving her more room on the bench. Except, despite this new area created for her, Luna sat so close to Harry he couldn't stop his leg from brushing up against hers. Harry locked his hands between his knees and, feeling Luna watching him, shifted to look at everything and anything - the ground, his warm boots, the sky, the door leading back to his relative safety in the castle- besides the girl sitting close to him.

"It was nice to see you tonight, Harry," Luna said, her legs kicking the air under the bench sped up and down as she spoke. "Interestingly, I was thinking about you today. That makes the timing a bit ironic, wouldn't you agree?"

"Erm… maybe?" Harry mentally hit himself for sounding completely idiotic. Outside of Hermione and Ginny, he had to acknowledge that he didn't exactly have the best track record of talking to girls. They always made him so nervous. But Luna always fell in with Hermione and Ginny. He remembered being this nervous around her in the past - not at the Christmas party last year or the Halloween ball, yet here his hands were physically sweating in the chilly autumn night.

She smiled at him. "I thought so too… I wonder what it means." Not knowing what to say, Harry released a sigh of relief when she didn't give him a chance to answer, at least until he heard her question, "Would you like to go with me to the game on Saturday?"

"Wait, what?" Harry blurted out without thinking.

"The Quidditch game," she laughed, although Harry knew exactly what she meant. "I know you'll be supporting Draco, and as you can imagine, my house isn't exactly on the best of terms with him as of late, so if it's alright with you, we could sit with the Gryffindors. Or maybe with Hufflepuff? Or perhaps somewhere between the houses?"

Harry ran his increasingly sweaty palm across the back of his neck. "Here's the thing, Luna… I don't know if I'm going to make it on Saturday or not. See… I have this appointment that I might be able to move, but I don't know for sure yet. And if I can't move it, I probably won't be well enough to go." Realizing how condensing his rambling sounded, he quickly added, "Otherwise, I'd love to go with you! If I go, that is…"

Hating how his rambling sounded, he finally risked lifting his head to see Luna's reaction. Rather than acting confused, angry, or insulted like Cho absolutely would have been, she simply pivoted her head inquisitively at him; in a move Harry found oddly endearing.

"I could stay inside with you instead?" She gently offered.

"You'd miss the match."

"Oh, that's quite alright, I don't really mind that much."

"And I make rubbish company," Harry countered, releasing a shaky breath, not sure who he was trying to convince more: her or himself. "You'd be wasting your night."

With a warm smile, Luna casually placed her hand on top of his and, for reasons Harry couldn't figure out, he never wanted it to move. "Any time spent with friends is never wasted, Harry."


Just knock on the bloody door, Harry. It's not that hard... You were a Gryffindor after all...

For the third time since returning to the dungeons after his encounter with Luna in the courtyard, Harry silently approached Snape's closed bedroom door doing his best to ignore the nervous beating of his heart as he lifted his fist to knock on the door only to pull his hand away at the last moment. More than anything, he wanted to ask Snape about Saturday. In fact, until he entered the sitting room to find it darkened and completely empty, he worked up the courage to maturely discuss the taboo topic - never once mentioning why his reasoning suddenly became more important - with him the second he came through the door. What he hadn't expected was to find the only possible occupied room in their home to be Snape's bedroom; based on the stream of flickering light flowing out from between the bedroom door and the stone floor.

Out of all of his months living in the dungeons, Harry was sure he could count on one hand the number of times he entered Snape's bedroom. Seeing as most of those visits were out of pure necessity, the sheer anxiety over voluntarily entering almost had the young wizard turning around, deciding to wait until tomorrow morning to get his answers.

It's self-preservation, he unconvincingly told himself.

Without so much as a creak of a warning, the door swiftly swung open, leaving Harry's hand floating ominously in the air.

"I thought I'd save you the trouble of making a fourth visit to my door," Snape's low voice beckoned him into the room. The professor was sitting up in the bed, his back firmly against the headboard feverishly pouring over some unfortunate student's clearly horribly written essay.

Slowly, the Gryffindor entered the bedroom, stopping short of the bed. His green eyes widened at the parchment and opened textbooks scattered all around the professor, leaving almost no sight of his usual silver bedspread. On the bedside table, an inkwell surrounded by drips of red ink sat precariously on the edge - magic likely being the only thing preventing it from tumbling to the ground - and Harry resisted the urge to push it firmly back onto the table.

"Sorry to bother you, sir," Harry respectfully and nervously started, "I was heading to bed when I saw your light on, but I can go if you're busy."

"Give me a moment. I'm almost finished here," the professor replied, not so much as lifting his head to greet the Gryffindor.

Clasping his hands tightly behind his back to avoid too much fidgeting, Harry shifted his weight between his feet as he looked around at the fireplace framed by two towering bookcases, listening to the scratching of Snape's quill.

If his notes are anything like my essays, Merlin help that poor soul, Harry chuckled to himself. Although he appreciated how thoroughly Snape's lessons in defence sounded, he doubted the professor had any more finesse in his marking notes than when he taught Potions.

"I'm sorry about that," Snape announced the moment he placed his quill back into the inkpot. Naturally, the motion caused the small object to wobble, and Harry grimaced, waiting for a fall that didn't come. "I didn't want to lose my thoughts on this one."

"Was it really that bad?" Harry nodded to the red-inked up parchment still drying upright on the professor's lap.

"All I'll say about it is the shuffling of instructors has become quite noticeable and several of the responses I've received have been rather... interesting," Snape answered, disappointedly frowning at the parchment. Using his wand, Snape cleared off a spot at the foot of the bed and gestured for Harry to sit. Nervously, the teen obeyed. That they now sat in the reverse positions of their usual spot when Harry was in bed did not go unnoticed. "How did tonight go? I expected you back earlier, so I take it you had a pleasant time?"

"It was an amazing night!" Harry's face flushed and his hands, neatly tucked in his lap, tingled at the memory of Luna's resting on top of his. "And I caught a little of the practice, too. I think you'll be pleased with their progress."

"Well, I'm relieved to have the approval of such a high-ranking source," Snape teased. "I'm fairly certain my team will hold their own on Saturday. If nothing else, it undoubtedly cannot be any worse than our first game."

"You know? I told Draco the same thing! You can only go up from here, right?" Harry's joyful laugh pushed away the remaining uneasiness he felt from sitting in Snape's bedroom, allowing Harry to pull his feet up onto the bed so he faced the other wizard.

"I guess that's one way to look at it," Snape slowly shook his head, his embarrassment over his Quidditch radiating off of him made Harry smirk. "But I highly doubt you came in here - after three attempts, no less - to tell me about my Quidditch team, so what's going on?"

Harry took a deep breath, hoping to convince himself to ask the question burning in his mind: would he be able to go to the match?

"I wanted to say thank you," Harry said instead, clenching his teeth at his supposed failure. Out of nowhere, the nervousness he thought he'd tucked away returned, making him start to babble, "it was good to see them all again, not only here... Don't get me wrong, I love living here! It just feels a little… I don't know... caged in after a while. Then going to the hospital for a week out of every three doesn't exactly give me much normal time. So, what I'm trying to say is-"

"Harry," Snape cut him off, thankfully putting Gryffindor out of his misery, "I understand. Which brings me to-" Harry looked down at his hands, already knowing the topic the professor was going to cover and not liking the hesitation in his voice, "-Alton and I had a very productive conversation regarding your treatment this weekend."

The words practically sucked all the oxygen out of Harry's lungs. Although he didn't think he'd be brave enough to keep the disappointment off of his face, he searched deep inside of himself for the courage to ask, "And what did you guys decide?"

The long pause which followed practically smothered Harry.

"Look at me, Harry." The young wizard gritted his teeth but complied. Snape sat tall against his bed, his hands interlocked and resting on his lap as if he didn't hold the key to the lock Harry desperately wanted opened. "Alton is making arrangements for your chemotherapy to be done on Sunday-"

"I thought the clinic wasn't open on Sunday?" Harry sullenly countered, more curious than agitated by the potential oversight on both men's part.

"Yes, it is," Snape sighed, "and had you been patient enough to listen, you'd already know that assuming Dr Swanson can get the necessary measures in place, Alton has graciously agreed to come to the castle early Sunday morning to collect a blood sample, take it to the hospital for testing, and then return to administer your medication here in our quarters. Regrettably, I have to work at the lab on Sunday, however, I will make sure someone is here with you in my absence."

"Wait a minute… so you're saying I'm doing it here? At home? And not in the clinic?" His voice, and relief, rose with each inquiry, especially when Snape nodded his answers after them. Then, to be sure, afraid he might have misheard or misunderstood, Harry bluntly asked, "And I can go to the match on Saturday?!"

"Yes, Harry," the professor confirmed, speaking slowly and clearly, "assuming you are feeling well and the weather is decent enough to counter with a well-placed charm or two, you will not have chemotherapy on Saturday and will be able to go to the Quidditch match."

Harry leaned forward to rest his elbows on the tops of his thighs. "You're serious? You're actually going to let me push it back a day?"

Snape smiled; a genuinely pleasant smile Harry hadn't seen nearly enough since his relapse diagnosis and Draco's arrest. "Well, now that I think about it some more-"

Harry didn't let Snape finish his sentence, not because he believed the man would rescind the offer, but because of the overwhelming emotions flooding throughout his body forced him to leap up from the edge of the bed and tightly wrap his arms around Snape, yielding a surprised umph out of the other wizard.

"Thank you, Severus," Although the words might have come out as a whispered muffle from speaking them into Snape's shoulder, he knew Snape heard them loud and clear when his arms came up to embrace the young wizard in a strong, loving hug. Relishing in the comfort Snape provided, he could almost imagine none of the near-constant pressure he'd been experiencing existed.

Harry pulled away, embarrassed. "Sorry," he muttered, "I don't know what came over me…"

When Harry trailed off, Snape confidently offered, "Let me reassure you, Harry, you have nothing to apologize for. Though we may not always see eye-to-eye on the importance of things like a Quidditch game, I can understand how important they are to you, and I promise you, Harry, I will try to do better at remembering it.

"Now, I know you were given the 'all-clear' this evening to expand your area outside of these walls, nevertheless, I must emphasize how many people are making adjustments for you to move your chemotherapy to Sunday. So, to best ensure you can go to the match and make all of this worthwhile, I recommend being a little more… conservative… in your outings over the next few days."

"Absolutely!" Harry enthusiastically agreed. "I'll keep my visitors to Ron, Hermione and Draco, and Dudley only if someone comes with him to do the... cleaning spell… thing. I promise."

"I trust you," Snape said, never once sounding as if he didn't believe Harry's commitment.

Over the next twenty minutes while the two wizards caught up on the night - starting with Harry asking all about the Dark Creature Duelling his friends raved about - Snape's words, I trust you, came back to Harry,hitting his heart in a way he never thought possible. Until now, he didn't realize how much he still secretly believed the adults in his life would continue to let him down and how much he didn't feel worthy of their trust. Logically, he knew Snape cared about him, how could he not after everything they faced together since the professor showed up at Privet Drive. There was something deep inside of him telling himself, over and over, it wasn't real and soon Snape, his friends, his doctors, would look at him as a lost cause and nothing more.

Midway through Snape's thorough analysis on how the teams who took their puzzles seriously - Hermione's, Draco's, Anthony Goldstein's, and strangely, Neville's - Harry began to unconsciously rub the bones in his right hand from the sharp tingling; this one definitely not caused by Luna's touch.

Snape paused his story, drawing Harry's attention up to the professor. Worried he hadn't been paying as close of attention as he thought, Harry asked, "Wait… what did I miss?"

"Nothing at all," Snape curiously frowned, his eyes never leaving Harry's hands. "Are you alright there?"

A choice: Harry could choose to wave off the concern as he normally would have, or he could venture outside of his comfort zone and admit to Snape what was going on.

Ignoring the negativity trying to push its way into his head, the Gryffindor held out his right hand.

"It hurts," he quietly admitted, though Snape showed he'd heard him by taking Harry's hand delicately into his rough, calloused one.

"How long has this been going on for?" Snape asked, gently rubbing the small muscles in Harry's hand.

"Erm," Harry stalled, "you know it's been on and off for a while now…"

"And lately?"

"More on than off," the young wizard shrugged, then realizing how it sounded, he quickly added, "I swear this one started now. It hasn't been bothering me all night or anything."

Snape said nothing, keeping his focus trained on examining Harry's hurting hand. To relax, Harry focused his attention on his other senses around him: the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace behind him, the surrounding parchment crinkling after every movement either of them made, and the soft touch Snape used, causing Harry to hardly flinch in pain.

"Accio hand cream," Snape's steady voice called out expertly and a small plastic tube came flying into the room. "Does this look familiar?" Snape asked, holding up the bottle while arching his one eyebrow high to signify he already knew the answer. Not waiting for Harry to reply, he massaged the prescription cream into the young wizard's hand, instantly relieving the harshest tingling.

"That stuff is amazing," Harry exclaimed once the professor finished. It didn't obliterate the pain but was effective at lessening it to a manageable level.

"Remember, this tends to work best when you remember to use it, so might I suggest keeping it accessible in case you need it in a pinch," Snape lectured.

"That's fair." The young wizard smiled.

Later, after Harry's eyes were heavy from fighting off his exhaustion and he said goodnight to Snape, he laid in his bed staring out of his enchanted window wishing he could open it to feel the crisp, wintry air again, thinking over their conversation, and his night in general. Throughout it all, he kept coming back to one prominent theme: how much he wished Snape could become his father so they wouldn't have to pretend they were a proper family any longer.

Stay Strong, My Son.

As sleep overtook his exhausted body, those words always hidden beneath the watch he wore every day flashed across his mind. Even if he and Snape were far from a conventional family, it didn't make them, or their feelings, any less real. All Harry had to do was learn to accept it, rather than living in fear of it one day slipping away from him, leaving him no chance to save them.


Chapter End Notes:
Coming Up Next: Quidditch

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