Harry lay, looking into the black ceiling of his room at number 12 Grimmauld place. He couldn't sleep, despite the heaviness of his eyes. Every time he did, even for a moment, he was attacked by dreams of his godfather. In these dark and tourterous nights, he saw so many things. Blacks final moments, face twisted in agony before disappearing into the curtain of death. A young Sirius, celebrating James and Lily's wedding. Black as a dog, sitting happily by the fire. The wild look in his eyes as he almost caught pettigrew. The last words he ever said. It was like his mind couldn't accept that he was dead and so kept creating montages of him, to fool Harry even if just for a moment.

Eventually dawn came and Harry made his way listlessly down to the kitchen. He wanted breakfast before the others woke up, he hated seeing their concerned looks, fielding their questions about how he was, how he slept. It was enough to make him miss the Dursley's and Privet drive, at least they wouldn't smother him. Silence was so much easier.

Toast in hand, he made his way back to his room, there to fight sleep once more.

It was impossible to tell how many days he spent like that. Ron and hermione tried to help, they often came to check on him, bringing tea and sweets and jokes. But it only made Harry feel worse. Everything made Harry wonder what Sirius would have thought of it, would he have laughed at that joke?Did he like ice mice? Had he ever woken up in this bed before, looked out the window and wanted to die, like Harry did so many mornings? He'd never know. There was so much he didn't know, would never know.

One day mid summer (before or after his birthday? He wasn't sure) he made his way down to the kitchen. Expecting to be the only one awake at this early hour, he was shocked to hear voices.

"Three days it's been…it was meant to take a few hours" came mrs weasley's voice. "You don't think…?"

"Who knows Molly. I don't think anyone apart from dumbledore really knows what he does. Could be a normal delay...could be much worse." Her husband replied.

"I don't think I could bare to lose him too. I know he's incorrigible….I know he hates us. But…"

"But he's a very brave man. Who deserves a lot better than he's had. I know Molly. But Snape can handle himself, he always has."

"His luck can't last forever, Arthur. I just hope he comes back soon."

Mr Weasley simply sighed. Harry stood still, desperate for more information. But-

"We shouldn't be talking about this anyway. No use worrying and no point alarming the others. Especially not the children"

Harry swore softly and made his way back up the stairs, bumping into Ron and hermione, both yawning and bleary eyed.

"Do you know where snape is?" Harry asked suddenly. Hermione let out a small yelp and Ron jumped slightly. It took Harry a moment to figure out why, this must have been the first time he'd spoken to them in about a month. Hermione was the first to recover from the shock.

"Oh! Harry! I, uh, no? Why? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah…" Harry said slowly. He wasn't sure why he was so concerned, but it seemed to help him, to bring him out of himself. For the first time in a long time he had something else to focus on, even if it was anxiety. It seemed to bring the whole world into focus.

He took a deep breath. "I'm just worried… anyway. I'm sorry I've been so...distant, recently. I think I needed time to…" he trailed off.

"Of course Harry" hermione said, throwing her arms around him.

"I have to admit mate, we've been pretty worried." Ron said, standing awkwardly behind Hermione, not sure if he should join in the hug or not.

"Sorry" Harry said, disentangling himself from hermione. "I've had a lot to think about."

"Of course Harry! Do you want to talk about it? I-"

"Let's play exploding snap" he said suddenly. And they did. The game was fast and exciting, and Harry felt alive. He was still anxious, still grieving, still sad. But the world was somehow sharper, more engaging.

It was another two days before Severus did return. There was a cut across his face and his robes were torn, but he said nothing, merely reporting the facts of his mysterious mission to a select few and retreating back to his own home.

Harry's stable mood continued, and soon he was eagerly awaiting the hogwarts express, all worries of snape forgotten in the anxious anticipation of a return to school- and potions class…