Harry thought about the decisions that brought him here. The decisions that were not his own. The choice about most things had been taken from him. But the one thing they couldn't take was this. Laying here, with him like this. Try as they might they couldn't take this from him. It was one of two so vastly different things they could not stop. Both made him feel alive but in such startling contrast that it scared him, but also comforted him. Strangely the other thing no one knew about. That he relished the feel of the blade in his hand as he brought it down upon his flesh. He loved the sweet tang the blood lent to the air. Harry wanted, no needed these releases. Both helped him cope, each in its own way.
Laying next to him. The one who seemed to be made of and cloaked in darkness was the one who brought lightness to his being. His raven. His own savior. Severus. Harry smirked to himself. It was ironic and yet poetic in a way. The seemingly darkest man he knew was his light. Severus who so hated the word savior. The man who thought himself a lost cause, seemingly content to live out the rest of his seemingly numbered days alone. He belonged to another.
Another who saw beneath that mask. Saw the man for what he was truly worth. A man who most thought of as a boy. But Severus saw the age and wisdom in those emerald eyes. H saw the pain too. And the cunning Slytherin that lay beneath the Gryffindor exterior. He saw Harry as he really was. A boy who had been forced to grow up much too fast. Forced to deal with death and abuse at a young age. A young man trying to find his own way in life. And Severus was glad to be able to witness it.