CHAPTER 4

Severus Snape couldn't have been happier when he heard about Harry Potter's illness.

Not because he wanted the teenager dead, but because of what Potter's disease would do to Voldemort.

By taking Harry's blood, Voldemort had also inadvertently taken the boy's cancer which, without treatment would surely prove fatal to the Dark Lord.

Sitting in his quarters, Snape felt his thoughts fix on Harry Potter.

For all that wizards claimed that magic was superior and that those with wands could do anything faster than even the best muggles, there were still a few things that muggles had the jump on. Potions could cure colds, heal burns, mend injured limbs, and bring witches and wizards back from the brink of death.

But blood-replenishing potions didn't work quite as well as ordinary muggle transfusions. And even as horrible as the side effects were, muggle chemotherapy drugs were far more effective than even the best potions.

Snape had done a fair amount of research on Potter's illness and the medications he was on after hearing the news from Dumbledore and the more he studied, the more Snape wanted to curse Potter's aunt and uncle… or someone, at least. Someone should have picked up on the fact that Potter was seriously ill! He'd surely have had symptoms at the end of last term: Weight loss, loss of appetite, fatigue, or leg pain.

Symptoms that had likely gone unnoticed given Potter's participation in the TriWizard Tournament, Snape realized with a heavy sigh.

The more Snape thought about Lily Potter's son, the more he realized that the kid had gotten a raw deal. Living with muggles that didn't give a rat's arse about him—always trying to survive whatever crisis cropped up during the course of the school year… It just never seemed to end.

And as much as he tried to make Harry Potter like his father, James, Snape was starting to understand that while Harry did share some traits with his father, he was more like Lily.

Going to his liquor cabinet, Snape withdrew a bottle of whiskey from the very back, studying the bottle for a moment before pouring himself a small glass. It was a very whiskey—made only in a small town in Scotland. But the taste was exquisite and well worth the money it cost. Once he'd put the bottle back and settled himself in his favorite chair, Snape let his mind drift.

Life was easier when Snape could just hate James Potter and his son. But the more he thought about it lately, the more he realized that he'd been wrapped up in his own negative feelings for too long.

Sitting in the darkened room, alone with his thoughts, Snape wondered what might become of him—what could have happened between him and Lily—if he'd made different choices in his life.

Harry was sitting up in bed, working on his essay for Professor Flitwick when Anna Rion came into his room carrying her bag. Setting his book and essay aside, Harry sat up a little straighter, looking a bit expectant. He'd had his last chemo treatment the day before and even though he'd promised Ginny he'd be at her Quidditch try-out, he really hadn't felt up to it. Ginny had understood, of course, even though Harry could clearly tell that she was disappointed.

Anna set her bag down and without preamble, said, "I got your blood tests back, Harry."

"It's not good news, is it?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm afraid not, Harry," Anna replied, sitting on the edge of the bed as she looked at Harry. "We double-checked your blood work and you still tested positive for malignant cells. Your erythrocyte level—that's the red blood cells—is much lower than it should be which means that you are also seriously anemic."

Harry wasn't sure what to say about all this but after a moment, he asked, "So what now?"

Anna gave Harry a half-hearted smile and replied, "Well, the good news is that the anemia is reversible and once we've started you on treatment you should start to feel an increase in energy."

"What kind of treatment?" Harry wanted to know, thinking about what Anna had said before.

Anna stood and opened her medical bag before pulling out the IV stand and setting it next to Harry's bed. "Packed red-cell transfusions," she replied, hanging a bag of enriched blood before connecting the bag to Harry's IV port. "This—" she added, indicating the bag. "—along with some additional medications and potions should help."

Harry nodded, but as he looked at the blood now slowly making its way into his veins he asked, "So, where's the blood come from?"

This time, Anna's smile was a warm one. "Well, your friend Hermione Granger was a match for your blood type, as was your cousin and two of your other classmates."

Harry was a bit surprised at that and after a moment, asked who the two others donors were. While the first name was surprising, Harry could only stare incredulous at who the other person was.

"Now," Anna went on, looking a bit graver. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but we need to discuss your second round of chemotherapy."

In truth, it was the last thing Harry wanted to think about, but he also knew that it was unavoidable. "Same schedule as before?" he asked.

"Not quite," Anna replied with an apologetic look. "This round, we'll be increasing the number of treatments and we'll also be adding a new drug to your regimen." Pulling a schedule out of her bag, she handed it to Harry. "Every two days for four weeks and then one week off. After three cycles, we'll rerun the tests again."

Harry set the schedule aside, trying to think of the best way to ask the question that had been plaguing him ever since he'd first heard the diagnosis. Deciding to go with a straightforward query, he asked, "Do you really think I have a shot at beating this?"

Sitting on the edge of Harry's bed again, Anna put a hand on his. When Harry met her eyes, she squeezed his hand. "Harry… Your mum and I were best friends. When you were born she made me your godmother and I made her a promise that nothing would happen to you. I'm not letting you lose this fight, okay? You're going to be fine."

"What was Mum like at school?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued. He knew plenty about his father, but he knew very little about his mother, other than what Petunia had told him.

Anna's face broke into a reminiscent smile and she thought for a moment before replying. "Lily was always a kind person. Shy, at first. She didn't really have any friends other than me. We were kind of in the same boat, both of us being muggleborns and all."

Harry frowned slightly. For some reason he'd imagined Anna defying her pureblood parents and going into muggle medicine out of spite. "Were your parents doctors?" Harry wanted to know.

"Is it that obvious?" Anna asked with a laugh. She nodded as she said, "Dad was a trauma surgeon for years before he retired. Mum was a pediatric oncologist before she went into research. After Lily's death, I needed to get away from the wizarding world for a while and decided to go to medical school."

"Bet your parents were proud," Harry said with a smile.

Anna shrugged and then replied, "Mum said, and I quote: 'Better late than never.' They were never against my being a witch but they always figured I'd just follow in their footsteps after I finished Hogwarts."

Harry started to ask another question but was caught off guard by a deep yawn.

Anna gently patted Harry's arm. "Get some rest, Harry. We'll talk later."

Harry carefully laid back and set his glasses on the night table before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Sitting down at the Gryffindor table at lunch, Ginny was happy that she'd made seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team but had been surprised when she didn't notice Draco Malfoy in the stands watching tryouts. Not that she'd been hoping to see him again… Ginny gave her head a sharp, quick shake, hoping to get Malfoy off her mind. It was insane! Why in the world was she hung up on Malfoy of all people? Just because for once in his life he actually acted like a decent human being, that didn't make up for years of ridicule and verbal abuse.

And yet—try as she might—Ginny couldn't stop thinking about Draco Malfoy whispering in her ear. There was something about him the last time she saw him.

It was complete lunacy! Why in the world was she having thoughts about Malfoy?

When Ginny caught sight of Malfoy as he came into the Great Hall, her eye was drawn to the slight bulge at Malfoy's right elbow underneath the sweater he wore. Remembering the bandage Hermione'd had on her arm the previous day after donating blood for Harry's transfusions, Ginny felt even more confused. Malfoy had donated blood for Harry?

"You seem confused," said a dreamy voice to Ginny's left.

Ginny saw Luna Lovegood sit down next to her and after a moment, she said, "I am confused." Seeing that Luna was curious about what was confusing her, Ginny just nodded in the direction of the Slytherin table where Malfoy was eating his lunch.

"I heard Madame Pomfrey was testing students' blood," Luna said, nodding thoughtfully. "No one said what it was for, though."

"Because Harry's been so sick," Ginny explained. "—he needs blood transfusions. I guess Madame Pomfrey has been testing to see which students match Harry's blood type."

"Is that what you were confused about?" Luna asked, a little puzzled.

"No," Ginny replied quickly, glancing again over at Malfoy who, for a split second, caught her eye before she quickly looked away.

When Luna saw where Ginny was looking, she asked, "Why are you looking over at Malfoy?"

Ginny looked around, making sure no one was listening, before she leaned close to Luna and whispered, "I can't stop thinking about him."

Luna was surprised at that but sensing that Ginny needed to talk about it, she said nothing and just waited for her friend to continue.

Ginny didn't know how to explain it and finally she just said, "I told Malfoy that Harry was sick. Malfoy actually seemed… concerned. Not to mention remorseful for tripping Harry the other day."

Luna studied Ginny for a long time and finally asked, "Are you falling for Draco Malfoy?"

Ginny shushed Luna and quickly looked around again to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Turning back to Luna, Ginny sighed. "I don't know what it is. But he was hoping I made seeker and he wished me luck. Is he toying with me?"

"I think that Malfoy can't stop thinking about you, either," Luna replied, flicking her gaze over to the Slytherin table. "He's been watching you."

When Ginny glanced over, she caught Malfoy's eye and the corner of his mouth tweaked in a slight smile. Blushing, she looked back to Luna. "What am I doing?" she asked.

"You like him," Luna concluded, smiling serenely.

"Malfoy has done nothing but insult and ridicule my family right from the start!" Ginny protested, quietly. "How could I even think of…?"

"He is good looking," Luna observed, looking over at Malfoy. Seeing Ginny's conflicted look, she said, "If being around you makes Malfoy a decent human being, why wouldn't you take advantage of that?"

Ginny wasn't sure how she felt about that idea. The idea of being manipulative didn't exactly sit right with her but at the same time she thought about how Malfoy had been lately. He'd been—well, not nice, exactly—but certainly he'd been more sociable and less derogatory towards her and her family. And he'd been part of Madame Pomfrey's little blood drive. Maybe there was actually a chance that Malfoy could become a good person.

x

When he'd whispered in Ginny's ear, Malfoy had really been resisting planting one on her cheek. Oh, he'd have heard about it, certainly—if not from his father, than from one of his fellow Slytherins.

But the truth was that, contrary to how he acted, he was not entirely consumed by the prejudice surrounding muggleborns. The truth was that he'd started to question the notion that muggleborns were inferior when he'd first encountered Hermione Granger. She was certainly smart—the best student in the entire school, he was willing to wager.

And then there was Genevra Weasley.

Malfoy'd had his eye on her from the moment he first caught a glimpse of her on the Hogwarts Express. Sure, in his world Ginny carried the brand of 'blood traitor' and she always seemed to be just a shy, timid person. But Malfoy remembered her tripping him in the hallway two weeks ago. The bruises on his ribs had finally faded but when he thought about the girl who'd caused them…

Ginny may look sweet and innocent but the girl could be anything but. She had a fire in her that drew Malfoy in, even when he knew he was going to get burned.

Looking across the Great Hall as Ginny ate lunch with her friend from Ravenclaw, Malfoy wondered if he was now playing with fire in more ways than one. He wasn't so much worried about what his parents might say, but rather what Ginny's family might do to him if they caught him trying to court the only Weasley daughter.

That evening, while Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room finishing his homework, Hedwig brought a letter from Petunia.

Harry reluctantly opened it, wondering what kind of nonsense his aunt was going to use to curry his favor this time. It wasn't as though he still hated his aunt, but he was just tired of her trying to get back in good graces with him after all he'd been through.

But reading the letter, Harry found it to be surprising as well as unsettling.

'Dear Harry,

The divorce had been finalized. Vernon is going to trial in criminal court for his treatment of you as well as drunk driving and a few other charges.

This upcoming Friday is when the trial is due to start and my lawyer has said that you will need to testify against Vernon. I have already spoken with Headmaster Dumbledore and you will be escorted to Grimmauld Place by Remus Lupin.

Dr. Walden also informed me that you would be having a second round of chemotherapy treatments along with transfusions to treat anemia. I know all this is hard on you, Harry, and I want you to know that if you need anything, let me know.

Petunia'

Harry started to crumple up the letter, but he stopped and straightened out the note, rereading it again. On the upside, Vernon was likely going to prison so at the very least he wouldn't be around anymore. And while on the surface he could appreciate his aunt's offer or help, Harry was more inclined to contact Sirius or the Weasleys if he needed anything.

Thinking of his godfather, Harry packed up his school work and went back into his suite, sat down at his desk and opened the top middle drawer, pulling out a small mirror. Looking at his reflection, he said, "Sirius. Sirius, are you there?"

There was no response for a few moments and then Harry's reflection vanished and Sirius's face appeared. "Harry," Sirius said looking both surprised and concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I, uh… got a letter from Petunia," Harry said, still confused about how he felt about it. "Vernon's… going to trial for the accident and child abuse and…"

"I know, Harry," Sirius said, nodding. "Petunia's been staying here at Grimmauld Place with Dudley since September."

"What?" Harry said in disbelief. All the times Petunia had railed against magic and keeping a dirty house and she decided to stay at Sirius home?

"She's confused about all this, Harry," Sirius explained. "Petunia doesn't know what to do anymore. She almost lost you, her son. And then hearing about your illness… For some reason she feels better here." After a while,

Sirius looked as though he wasn't sure how to pose the question but after a moment, he asked, "How are you doing, Harry? Really?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm fighting, Sirius. I just hate being so sick." A thought popped into Harry's mind and he asked, "Why didn't you tell me Dad had cancer?"

Sirius let out a long sigh. "I don't know, Harry," Sirius replied, honestly. "Remus asked me if we should tell you but after some discussion we figured that it wasn't the best time. I'm sorry, Harry. We should have told you."

"I-I understand why you didn't," Harry said, quickly. He started to say something else but he was unable to stifle the yawn that escaped him.

"Get some sleep, Harry," Sirius said, gently. "We'll talk more when you get here."

Harry nodded and put the mirror away, rubbing his neck and sighing when more of what was left of his hair came away in his hand. Looking at his reflection in the mirror on the wall, Harry sighed dejectedly when he took in just how terrible he looked. He was thinner now than he'd ever been and there wasn't much left of his messy black hair.

Even though it wasn't too late in the evening, Harry figured he'd turn in for the night and stood up to limp over to his bed where he sat down before pulling his jeans off and sliding the prosthetic off of his stump. The scars from the amputation were very faint and a potion or two had ceased the phantom pain he'd first had after waking up but it was still somewhat disconcerting. Harry tentatively touched the stump, feeling the rounded end. He'd avoided actually touching what was left of his leg if he could. For some reason Harry felt that touching the stump made it real… permanent.

Looking at his bathroom Harry decided on a warm bath before going to bed. Grabbing the crutches leaning against the wall, Harry hobbled into the spacious bathroom Dumbledore had given him. A bathtub roughly the size of the one in the Prefects bathroom was set into the floor and after filling the pool with hot water, Harry undressed and carefully eased himself into the water.

The heat felt good and all the knots and muscle aches that had been building because of the chemo started to melt and unwind. Harry leaned back as he sank a little lower into the hot water and closed his eyes, finally washing every negative thought from his mind.