On the first day of the brew, Severus took Harry to Neville's house for what turned out to be both of the boys' first sleepover. After speaking with Neville's Gran and looking over their home for himself, he approved of it, mostly because other options were limited, and Harry was excited for the experience.

He had spoken with Harry about his options earlier in the week. Severus hadn't wanted Harry to stay in the house unsupervised for so many hours. But Harry also expressed concern at the idea of Severus acquiring a house elf to watch him for the next two days on such short notice. In general, the boy had very little knowledge of or exposure to house elves and seemed averse to the idea—likely because of the parallels between them and his old life.

Patrick—who was closely monitoring Neville's home life—had assured Severus, that although Neville's Gran had difficult days, she was still able to care for the boy and could handle two days with Neville and Harry together.

On the first day of the long brew, Severus had apparated with Harry to Neville's home outside of the neighborhood's apparition wards, and they had to walk a bit to the house itself. He had not event attempted the floo with Harry, considering his specific fears.

As they walked, Harry asked the same questions he had been asking for days.

"Do you still think you'll be able to come get me on time?"

"Yes," Severus said. "Every step of the brew has been carefully planned. And if not, I will make sure to send a note letting you know when I can come."

"And I can send you a message?"

"Yes. Write on the parchment I spelled and it will get to me. It'll be sent directly to the lab, and when I have a free minute, I will read it. Unless it's—"

"An emergency," Harry said with the man. "And then Neville and I are to inform his Gran and if we can't we should tell their house elf Dodgy."

"And?"

"And if we can't reach Dodgy, we go his neighbor's house and ask for help because you've worked with their nephew through St. Osha's hospital, and Neville's gran trusts them," he recited.

"Good," Severus said. "Not that we expect anything to go wrong, but we should always endeavor to be prepared."

Severus had dropped off a tearful but brave Harry at 10:00 a.m. And at 12:00 p.m. sharp, he and Patrick were in the lab beginning the long brew. Severus felt his adrenaline rush, as he lit the fire with an incendio and reached for the first ingredients.

Harry and Neville decided to play outside for most of their first day together. Unlike Harry's new home with Severus, which was fairly remote and had sprawling land, Neville's gran lived in a magical neighborhood that was warded against muggles. The houses were much less crowded together than the ones had been on Pivot Drive, but still, the neighbors were close by. As Neville and Harry walked down the street toward the small pond at the end of the road, Neville pointed out the houses and described who lived there.

"That lady Ms. Spencer is older than my gran. I'm pretty sure she taught Professor McGonagall in school," he said snickering.

"No way," Harry exclaimed.

"Yep, she's ancient. And next to them are the Hadija's. You know? Charlotte and Janae at school? They're 5th year Gryffindors."

"Really?" Harry asked. He was in shock.

Harry had previously thought little about how other students in his class had grown up. He'd spent so much time his first year trying to convince himself it was all real and then scrambling to catch up in classes, he hadn't spent much time learning from his classmates about their lives. But to think that they had always grown up with magic, that they had grown up with each other—he couldn't imagine such a life for himself.

"Yeah Mr. Hadija is from Morocco, and he makes amazing food, and their mom is wicked smart. She's French and knows a million languages without magic. She's a Head Witch of some department in the Ministry where she does political things with muggles."

Harry couldn't imagine what such things were. As far as he knew, no Muggles knew about the magical world, and he wasn't sure what they would do if they did. Suddenly thinking about his own…past family, Harry asked, "Do you…do you think all muggles are bad?"

Neville gave Harry a funny look.

"I don't really know any, so I don't know what they're like." Then with a bit of hesitation, "You grew up with muggles right?

"Yeah, but I don't think they were…normal. Or at least that's what Severus keeps saying."

"Oh right. Yeah, I wouldn't know. I've lived here almost my whole life, and almost everyone's a witch or a wizard."

Harry looked like he wanted to ask another question, but then didn't. Instead, he let Neville narrate stories about all of the people on the street. Harry felt like each person was someone he might have dreamed of only a year ago.

On the first night, Patrick monitored the potions from 1:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m. when they were to simmer, untouched for 3 hours. Severus took the opportunity to catch a quick nap, because he would need to up for the next 20 hours at least. Before heading next door to the testing and containment room, he took the parchment that was floating at eye-level by the doorway—Harry. The boy had written, as Severus had expected. His heart leapt in his throat, but he knew that it was not an emergency—just an update.

"Dear Severus, Nevile and me took a walk today and there's a pond at the end of his street. We didn't get in but we through rocks in it an d then we saw frogs. Neville said they are not magic but are there magic frogs. You don't have to tell me now but I want to know some time. Neville's Gran is nice and I am sleeping in Nevile's room tonight . I have a bed. I hope the potion is doing what you want it to. Good night. -Harry."

Severus sighed at some of the spelling errors but felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips at the boy's curiosity. He quickly wrote back, and the went to catch a few hours of sleep.

When Severus arrived to collect Harry on the third evening of the brew, the boy had not pounced on him, as he had expected. Instead, he shyly gave Severus a hug and then went to get his overnight bag.

"Did the potion turn out?" Neville asked, while Harry bounded up the stairs.

"It did," Severus said. "I'm sure Patrick can tell you more about it when you meet for your lesson with him tomorrow."

"Someday I'm gonna brew something that takes five whole days and Harry's gonna help me."

"Is that right?" Severus asked, as he noticed his heart beating rather loudly in his chest.

"Yeah, Harry and I swore that we would be like you and Patrick when we grow up."

Severus peered down his nose at the boy.

"Well we didn't really swear, not with magic or anything. But we promised."

"You both have a long way to go before attempting anything of the sort," Severus said.

After thanking Neville's gran and saying goodbye, Harry walked with Severus to the end of the wards. When Severus grasped him tightly for the apparition, he heard Harry whisper, "I'm glad you came back."

Severus had a lie in the next day, as tired as he was from completing the brew. He was still disoriented when he woke to the alarm alerting him that someone had attempted to open the door of the potions lab on the first floor. Drawing on his lightweight robe over his dark pajamas, Severus grabbed his wand from his bedside and went to see what was going on.

He found Harry yanking at the door in the dark hallway, and as soon as the boy saw him, he stopped, stumbling backward.

"Harry, what—"

"I—I'm sorry! I was just…I was just curious. About the potion," Harry said taking a step back.

Severus stayed where he was so as not to upset the child. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, "I understand that you may be curious, but you know that you're not allowed to enter the lab by yourself."

His voice was rough from sleep.

"I know it was stupid. I'm sorry."

Harry looked ready to dart. Severus examined him from a distance, before asking, "Did you eat breakfast?"

Harry nodded.

"Because it didn't look like you ate what I left on the table for you."

"I did," Harry said. "Not much but I ate."

Severus gave him a long look, and the boy shifted his feet.

"Actually, I'm really tired cause me and Neville stayed up late. Do you think it would be okay if I went back to bed?"

Severus noticed that Harry was not looking him in the eye.

"Yes, you may."

Harry practically sprung away from the man, walking away from him to take the curiously long way to his bedroom. Checking the wards on the potions lab, Severus made his way to the kitchen, where he sat at the table and had his own breakfast with a cup of coffee. He found that he desperately wanted to march up the stairs and into the boy's room and ask him what was wrong, but instead decided to give him some space. It could be nothing. Perhaps excess nerves from being separated for a few days. He hoped nothing untoward had happened at Neville's home and now felt the need to press it further. Attempting to clear his mind, Severus summoned his potions journal and entered his final thoughts on the long brew to close out the entry.

A few hours later, when Harry emerged from his room, he asked Severus if he could play in the backyard. From his seat in the living room, where he was reading a book, Severus took in the sight of the boy's hunched shoulders and shifting gaze.

"Are you—" Severus paused and shook his head clear of the question. "Yes, you may, but don't venture farther than the vegetable garden."

The boy turned to leave.

"And I was hoping that we could prepare dinner together tonight," Severus said. "Perhaps catch up on the last few days."

Harry nodded and made a dash for the door.

Outside, he went to the back of the house. It really was a bright day and late afternoon, so the sun felt oppressive. Harry had put on one of his long sleeved shirts in the morning because he was chilled. Now, he went looking for shade—a sprawling plum tree a few meters away from the vegetable garden. It didn't have the fullest coverage, but, as he leaned against the scratchy trunk he felt some reprieve.

Harry cracked his knuckles and felt a twinge of pain. He took a few deep breaths, counted to three, and tenderly lifted his shirt up to look at his stomach where he was met with four galleon-sized raised red bumps on the light skin. Harry jerked the shirt back down and fought back panic. Last night, there had only been 2.

He was sick. No, he was dying. And who wanted to take care of a dying kid?

Surely not Severus, who hadn't signed on for that. As he understood it, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley couldn't take him back. Patrick was surely too busy with work and with Neville. He didn't know anyone else. Maybe Professor Sprout could just let him live in the school.

Harry rested his head on the tree behind him and tried to get his breath under control, like Severus had taught him in meditation until he felt like the world was no longer spinning. Severus would not want to send him away, but Harry knew that the man needed time and space for his work. He wouldn't have time to take care of him if he was dying. Harry would pack up his things now, just so Severus didn't have to do that, too, and be burdened with the work.

When Harry entered the house about an hour later, Severus was in the potions lab. The note on the table told Harry to knock if he wanted to come in and that there were snacks available should he want any.

Harry was hungry, since he had skipped breakfast, but he went to his room instead, where he began packing things in his trunk. He had meant to do it all as quickly as possible but soon found himself slowed by his shaking hands and pounding heart. Tears blurred his vision, as he set in his carefully folded trousers, pants, and shirts on top of his school robes and shoes. Almost everything he had was because of Severus. A few months ago, he could never have imagined having such nice things.

In went his stack of books and his socks and the soft robe he wore often during nighttime journaling and meditation time. He would miss that. He supposed he could still do those things wherever he ended up next. Harry was moving to clear out the small drawer in his bedside table when stopped and looked at his rector sitting on top of it.

Harry James Potter: Water Affinity: Apprentice.

Harry held the rector with shaking hands and scooted his way back into his closet, where he wrapped his arms around his knees and cried. He would never be a potions master. He would never brew something long and complicated with Neville like he promised. He would never get his mastery or make more friends at Hogwarts. All things he hadn't dared hope for or even known to hope for months ago. But here he was, feeling the weight of crushed hopes—something he tried to avoid for most of his life by not hoping at all.

That is where Severus found him a half an hour later, when he had called Harry's name and pushed open the door at the sound of the boy's cries.

"Whatever is the matter?" Severus asked, stepping fully into the room, taking in the disheveled state of the room, the half-packed trunk.

Harry shook his head and stuffed his face further into his arms. He'd been crying so hard, his head now hurt and his nose was stuffy and full of pressure.

Bewildered, Severus moved to touch him, and then instead, stepped back, and kneeled in front of him.

"Are you injured?"

Harry's breath hitched and he shrugged his shoulders.

"You are? You are hurt?" Severus asked, more urgently this time.

When he didn't answer, Severus commanded that he give one.

"I'm not—hurt. I don't know it doesn't hurt—yet. I don't know."

"What doesn't hurt?" Severus asked, now standing. The edge to his voice made it seem louder.

Harry sniffed and pushed his sleeve up to his elbow. Holding his arm up, he turned his face away so that he wouldn't see the man's face when he saw how disgusting he was.

Severus held the proffered arm gently by the wrist and rolled it slightly to see the large red circular mark on the boy's arm. A thousand questions flew through Severus mind, as he tried to quash his own anxiety and think clearly through the situation.

The boy was breathing. He was talking. He was lucid. He had at least one mark on his arm. He was not in pain, or so he said.

"What—Harry, what is this? How long has this been here?"

Harry tugged his arm back and rolled the sleeve back down. He wiped at his face and finally glanced up at his guardian before looking back down again.

"I think I'm dying," he said softly, wiping at his face. "I started getting them last night. I'm sorry I know you probably didn't want a sick kid."

Severus was down again, kneeling in front of him.

"Harry why would you think—wait, you have more? There are more?"

Harry nodded.

"Show me," Severus said, voice stern.

Harry looked as if he would refuse, but after a few beats, uncurled himself and took off his glasses to wipe his eyes. Replacing his glasses, he cracked his knuckles before lifting his shirt up and over his head.

Even from the boy's seated position, Severus could see the sporadic dots on the boy's thin frame, from his torso to his upper arms. He requested that Harry sit on the bed, so he could get a better look, and Harry obeyed, feeling like his feet were heavier than usual. Once there, Severus noticed a few more spots on his back, in addition to a few older scars here and there that he and Poppy had been unable to heal.

Harry's tongue felt like lead, but he opened his mouth anyway, to say, "I'm sorry I'm sick. I know you probably don't want—"

Severus hushed him, as he concentrated on the boy's body. He lightly ran his fingers along a few of the marks on his back. They were uniform, slightly raised, dark pink in hue. Severus could feel no overt magic coming from them. He took his wand from its holster and commanded the boy to stay still while he muttered a few spells under his breath and checked for possible curses.

After a moment, Severus asked,"Are they anywhere else? Your legs? Your bum?"

When Harry nodded, Severus sighed, as if he were deeply tired. He was, he realized, still feeling drained of energy from the adrenaline and execution of the long brew. Kneeling in front of Harry again, Severus thought before he spoke.

"To address, this in order of severity, I will start with the confirmation that you are not dying, Harry. Whatever this is, is not life threatening."

He paused to let the information sink in.

"Second, you will be staying here, regardless of your health status. So, all of this," he gestured to the disheveled room, "was unnecessary." He stood and paced a few steps across the room. "And I wish—I wish you would have talked to me instead of hiding this. Harry, this is what I am here for. To take care of you, to help."

He wanted to say more but stopped himself. Harry had a fresh batch of tears welling in his eyes and looked incredibly fragile.

"Come, you need a bath in an all-cure soothing agent, and I need to firecall Ms. Longbottom and decipher if Neville is experiencing similar symptoms."

He led Harry to the bathroom, where the boy stripped to his pants and let Severus look at his body one more time while the bath filled with warm water. Severus took the boy's temperature and felt his glands and ran a few more diagnostic spells. Before Harry stepped in, Severus poured a bottle of a blue liquid in the tub that turned a light gray when it hit the water. Harry could tell Severus was in an unusual mood, because he didn't even explain what the potion was or what it was supposed to be doing. He just directed Harry to get in and sit still while he went downstairs.

While Severus was gone, Harry swirled his hand in the water, finally feeling the last grips of panic release his chest. He wasn't dying. He was just sick with something, and Severus would figure it out. He could stay here. He could still be an apprentice. Harry repeated this in his head to assure himself that it was true.

After ten minutes, Severus came back into the bathroom with a few more standard-size potion bottles in hand. He had removed his robe and was only in a button-down shirt and trousers.

Setting the bottles on the sink counter, he summoned a low stool from the kitchen that Harry sometimes used to reach the highest shelves. Harry thought the man's legs looked enormous, all scrunched up close to the floor like that.

Severus rolled his sleeves up, as he spoke quietly. "Mr. Longbottom is not experiencing the same symptoms as you. But it does appear that you both went to a lake near his house when you were there, correct?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah and there's a boy from school who lives on the street who came with us, and his big brother watched us." Harry knew that Severus didn't let him swim unsupervised.

"There is a type of pondweed that grows in that pond that is common in bodies of water with magical flora and fauna."

Harry looked confused. The pond didn't seem magic to him. It had just seemed like a normal pond to him.

"Most witches and wizards are exposed to this pondweed earlier in their childhood and then are immune for life. It seems you've had your first contact with it. It is not poisonous. It simply reacts adversely with the skin and causes mild discomfort."

He paused, waiting for any questions.

When none came, he explained each of the potions on the counter as he dropped them into the bath. Like his own mother had done for him, Severus gently washed Harry's body, paying special attention to the inflamed skin. When they were done, he dried the boy off and inspected the spots, which already seemed to be shrinking. After Harry was changed, Severus led him into the living room, where he laid a blanket over him and spelled some calming tea for them both. He surveyed Harry, who looked small but cozy on the couch across from him.

"I think you've had a rather stressful day," Severus said.

"Yeah."

"Or a rather stressful two days, since you swam at approximately 3 p.m. on Thursday and the effects would have been apparent within a few hours after that," Severus sipped his tea.

Harry was silent.

"And you did not inform Ms. Longbottom or me of your ailment."

"No," Harry's voice was small.

"Which was irresponsible, because it could have been very serious. And you could have been placing yourself in further danger. You could have been placing Neville in danger. Did you think about that?"

Harry swallowed hard.

"And going into the potions lab to take Merlin-knows-what to cure something which you have not yet identified would have placed you at an even greater risk," the man said. Then after a moment, "What should you have done?"

"I—I should have," Harry swallowed. "I should have told you I was sick."

"Before or after you packed your bags to leave?"

Harry winced.

"Before, sir."

After a few moments, Severus said, "I know that you have a hard time telling me things when you are worried. That is understandable, given your past circumstances. But I want you to know that you can tell me Harry, and if it's difficult to tell me verbally, then you can write to me, and if it's difficult to write, then you can—I don't know—gesture to me. But, Harry, you need to tell me when you are hurt. Because I cannot help you if I do not know. Can you do that next time? Can you promise to tell me if you are unwell in any way?"

Harry felt a few tears spill out of his eyes. The mix of potions Severus had bathed him in had somehow relieved his headache, but his eyes still felt scratchy and sore.

"Yes, sir, I will try. I promise."

Severus looked less pained, having heard the promise aloud. The rest of the evening, as they talked quietly, ate dinner, and settled down for the night, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he had made Severus sad. If keeping this promise would keep that from happening again, Harry thought he might be able to do it.