Chapter 7: Sometimes words speak louder than actions

I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Warning: references to various psychological illnesses/conditions.

This chapter is also VERY serious in comparison to the others.

Harry laid down on the sofa in the sitting room, carefully reclining back slowly so he didn't jolt himself and accidentally lose his lunch on the expensive carpet.

With the memories he'd inherited from Henry, Harry knew that Melissa was almost fanatic every single year in her determination to cook and help out the elves while they put together an extraordinarily-lavish Yule meal for them to enjoy together. And he really wasn't kidding when he said 'lavish'; Harry could barely move right now after having been made to eat two entire platefuls of proper food, and that was before dessert had even been brought out. The woman was mental.

Apparently Henry had been something of a bottomless pit when it came to food, but the problem was that the soul currently occupying this body was that of Harry Potter, an abused and neglected child-turned-adult that still couldn't eat full meals because of psychological issues from childhood that would not just do him a favour and fuck off. (Seriously, having a new body was supposed to fix things. Death was an arse.)

Then again, his problems were supposedly psychosomatic. Or that was what his Healers told him, anyway. Not than any of them had done him an ounce of good, seeing as he went decades without being able to improve just the slightest. Though that might have also had to do with having a truly shitty life surrounded by a wife and kids he couldn't get along with.

Toxic. Harry Potter's life was toxic and stress-inducing on the best of days, so much so that any of his vast array of psychological issues were ramped up to awful levels and caused him to lose any ounce of progress that he'd made. Slight Anorexia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Depression, mild Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder … they were just some of the lovely names printed in his disgustingly thick file at St Mungo's, a file that was about ten times bigger than anyone else's and a very apt physical metaphor for his crappy life.

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying not to focus on how his past was still screwing with his future. Though it was a little hard not to considering how he knew he wouldn't be reacting so badly to things now if he'd only had a normal life beforehand. If he'd been raised in a loving home with parental figures that cared for him as a person rather than an unwanted object, if he'd had adults that spoke to him as a mature person and didn't keep vital secrets from him, if every single fucking person around him didn't constantly push him into making decisions he didn't want to …

He couldn't trust people.

Even years after knowing someone he hadn't been able to trust people. People lied, people cheated, and people had a nasty tendency to go behind your back and do things you wouldn't want because they thought they knew better. Hermione thought books knew better so she acted her usual arrogant self, Ron assumed he knew what people were thinking despite having no social skills so he made snap judgements about people, Dumbledore 'knew' everything he did was for 'the greater good'. People were arseholes, plain and simple, and even being in a new body and in a different time with his soulmate, Harry hadn't been able to forget that people lied. He'd been waiting for someone to screw him over.

He hadn't expected it to be James

He knew others would think him to be over-reacting, and maybe he was, but James was the only person that he'd ever told about all his problems, physical, emotional and psychological, and despite his twisted personality, Harry had assumed that his soulmate would be able to understand his issues with control and trust. But he hadn't. James might think it funny, but going ahead and telling his parents that he was going to marry Harry after school hurt.

Harry thought they'd decided together not to say anything of their relationship until into their teens and he'd been happy with that, but James made a spur-of-the-moment decision to fuck with their plans and just do what he wanted. He didn't even discuss it with Harry, just informed him after the fact with an owl and an expensive bar of chocolate telling him he was sorry.

The chocolate was in the bin.

Sure, there was some shitty saying about how asking for forgiveness was easier than asking for permission, but James knew how much Harry despised people controlling his life. Every single thing in the life of Harry James Potter had been controlled to a tee, and living as Henry Peverell was supposed to have given him the chance to have a life where he could live how he wanted. Except he was apparently still under the control of someone else.

The problem was that James had really and truly fucked himself over this time, because their few short months together had actually managed to instil the slightest bit of confidence and self-respect in Harry, and he wasn't going to simply laugh at the idea of James shocking his parents into silence and forget about this. He could of course, but Harry was a human being with his own thoughts and opinions, and he despised being treated as if his own feelings were less than others just because they weren't the 'norm'.

He wasn't going to let himself be a doormat and allow James to brush this shit under the carpet. Harry had more self-respect than that, and James was going to have to actually ask for proper forgiveness first, that is if he even realised he'd been a twat. Judging from his letter he really didn't see the problem.

"So, I kind of might have told Mum and Dad that I love you and we're getting married after school. Sorry about that, but it's totally fine, they seem pretty happy with it actually. Anyway …"

That was it. That was all the fucker said about it, and Harry was not happy with the git. It was funny – in a twisted way – that people assumed soulmates were some sort of romantic Holy Grail, but all that meant was that you were stuck with them for good if you met them. Oh sure, they really were the perfect other half and you'd be the happiest you could ever with them, but what people seemed to forget was that this consisted of taking two human beings – who the majority of the time did not know each other all – and force them to start a romantic relationship no matter what was going on at the time. They could already be in a relationship, personalities had to find a way to blend, and compromises had to be made to ensure the couple got along with one another.

The problem with James was that he really and truly couldn't understand what Harry was going through. I suppose that's also my fault. James had never properly seen Harry during his worst moments because Harry had gone decades having no support and now found it really fucking hard to open up physically. He might have told James the truth, but the other hadn't seen the reality.

So … maybe James isn't totally at fault here. But he still went and made that decision without me when I asked him not to do stuff like that. He ignored me and that … that fucking hurts, shitty arsehole.

Harry rolled over and buried his face into the sofa cushions, inhaling the scent of whatever candles had been lit in the room earlier. Lavender, maybe?

"Henry?"

He lifted his head to see Melissa – and it was so weird having an actual blood relative that cared for him – looking at him with a frown. His cousin was such a genuine woman and he almost felt guilty for taking over Henry's body, but he supposed actually having Henry's memories meant he was still this woman's cousin in some way. Or maybe that was his selfish desire to have a family speaking, who knew?

Melissa Johnson was quite tall for a woman at 5'8" - and annoyingly taller than Harry had ever been before – and had the same slightly-curled black locks that Harry now had, but she had dark-brown eyes and a slight caramel tone to her skin from her paternal African-American heritage a few generations back. Harry had no doubt the curvaceous woman would be inundated with romantic gestures now she was going out in public once more; Melissa was gorgeous to a blind man.

She cocked her head to the side. "Are you okay? You haven't been looking like yourself, is something wrong?"

Yeah, I'm not really the same cousin I was before, I have a shitty soulmate who likes doing whatever he wants, and though I really don't want to admit it, part of this goddamn mess is probably my own bloody fault. Not that he was going to say that to Melissa, she didn't deserve to be the focus of his awful temper when she had nothing to do with his foul mood. Although …

Harry looked her in the eye. "Can I ask you something?"

Melissa blinked and sat down in the chair across from him with a determined look on her face. "You can ask me anything, you know that."

"If … say if you have a friend – like a really close friend – and the two of you decide not to do anything without each other – like make decisions on important things – but then your friend does do something, how do you even trust them again? But also … what if you knew that they didn't even really know why it upset you, like, they didn't understand why doing something like that would make you hurt?"

Harry knew full well he was rambling like a child but he couldn't really help himself. He just wanted to get things sorted without his temper or James' stubborn nature get in the way. Others might see Harry as the more passive one of the two, but he only needed to remember how awful he'd been in fifth year to know he had a tendency to lash out vindictively when he was angry. He might've been a rather apathetic man before he was reborn, but his fiery temper was still there and popped up when someone really and truly pissed him off.

"I think," his cousin began slowly, "that you and this friend need to have a proper conversation about what the idea of trust means to the pair of you. Personally – and this isn't because I'm your cousin, either – I think the other person is more in the wrong than you. I can see fault in both parties, but this friend knew that you trusted them not to do something and did so anyway. Even if they didn't know exactly why you didn't want them to, that doesn't excuse the fact that they broke your trust."

Melissa sighed and smiled wryly. "But what do I know? I'm just an outsider." The woman leaned over and gently ran her fingers through his hair, and Harry felt his eyes slide shut as he soaked up the comfort. "I'd recommend writing a letter so you can get your points across properly. A face-to-face conversation might give a better indication of your mood and the general emotions involved, but people have a tendency to say and do things in the heat of the moment that they don't really mean. Taking your time with a letter should help you to think things through and figure out exactly what you want to tell this friend."

There was a beat of silence. "Or you could just tell me who upset you and I can make their life a living hell."

Harry snorted before he started laughing, burying his face into the cushions below him to muffle his hysterical cackles. As he carried on laughing in the quiet room, joined by the infectious giggles of his older cousin, Harry could almost feel the tension start to bleed from his shoulders. Things weren't solved by any stretch of the imagination but he was sure things would get there eventually.

He wasn't going to lose his soulmate because of a lack of communication.

Harry looked out his window and sighed for what was probably the hundredth time in the past hour. He knew full that the owl to James was going to take a while to get back with a reply, but he still couldn't sit still and act like nothing was wrong.

Fuck it. I'll just think about something else for now. He turned back to the contents of his desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment that was already covered in scribbles, and he forcefully tore his mind away from his soulmate to think about one of the other many issues of this time period.

Harry knew that despite all the shit that had happened in his life he still had something of a 'saving people thing' as Hermione had once deemed it. He also knew that despite having complicated feelings towards a certain few individuals he still wanted to help them escape their own shitty situations.

The main issue he was thinking about was Severus Snape. He knew his most-hated professor had grown up in an abusive household after his pure-blood mother had run away and married a drunken, violent muggle. Eileen Prince had been disinherited for her actions, though he wasn't sure if those actions carried over to her son. Disinheriting someone was messy business and there were different ways it could happen; who knew what had happened with Snape's mother.

The House of Prince was actually very diminished from what it had once been, and other than Snape there hadn't been any other child born in close to three decades. Lord Prince might not be acknowledging his daughter, but his grandson was still a member of the family despite his muggle father. Snape was probably the only opportunity for them to actually survive into the next generation; he certainly couldn't ever remember hearing anything about the Prince family as Harry Potter.

The problem was his personal feelings: Harry hated the Severus Snape of his time. The man might have saved his life numerous times but that didn't excuse everything he'd done to Harry. Bullied him, mocked him, physically hurt him, ripped his mental defences apart … He could go on and on about how Severus Snape was a bastard, and he still couldn't believe that Ginny had wanted to name their son after that arsehole. (Thankfully that argument had been one that he'd actually won, thank fuck for that. 'Albus Severus'? If he ever needed evidence the woman was touched in the head, that suggestion would be more than enough.)

Snape hadn't been a nice man, and no matter what anyone said about his role in the war he hadn't been a good man. If Harry hadn't been the son of Lily Evans the bastard wouldn't have done jack shit to help anyone. If Neville had been the one chosen to fight, Snape would have fucked off and left the poor sod without any help whatsoever. He'd been a bully that terrorised innocent children instead of teaching them. He'd used children as proxies for the abuse he couldn't direct at their dead or absent parents that he hated. He'd been a wanker, plain and simple.

The problem was that the Severus Snape he currently knew was a child.

As a child that had been abused himself he couldn't in good conscience sit back and let it carry on, even if the person in question was the child version of someone he hated with every fibre of his being. He couldn't judge the Severus Snape of this time period by the actions his older self had carried out, even if Harry genuinely struggled to separate them from one another. A child was a child though, and no child deserved to live in such horrible conditions.

Hence why he was temporarily embracing his Slytherin self.

He knew there wasn't exactly anything he could do to help Snape by himself despite his future knowledge, even if James were to help him. Short of permanently 'removing' Tobias Snape from the house he didn't really have the ability to change the Snape family, and he didn't exactly want to become a murderer at the age of eleven. The only other option would be for Snape to live with someone else, which is where Harry's idea spawned from.

The only other family he could think of was the Prince family but Harry wasn't sure how they would react to looking after a half-blood child whose father was a muggle. The Princes weren't the wealthiest or most prestigious but they were still old blood. The majority of their members were pure-bloods, with the few half-bloods still having two magical parents. Blood purity was still a valid concern for the House of Prince and Harry had been worried they would simply ignore the situation.

So Harry had decided to more-or-less blackmail them.

Harry knew he was being an arsehole but he supposed hanging around James so much would have rubbed off on him eventually, and considering he was actually trying to help someone he couldn't bring himself to feel too bad about his actions. He'd composed a brief but damning letter that sounded vaguely accusing to Lord Prince, mentioning how sad it was that the House of Prince had been so lax in monitoring their family that a member of their venerated House had managed to grow up in squalor while being abused, his own grandson even.

It sounded so poncey and snobbish, but the kicker was a flat and to-the-point warning that this information would be shared with the Daily Prophet if they didn't remove the child from his house and help him. Not that Harry would be so callous as to splash Snape's childhood across the front page of the newspaper, but hopefully it would be enough of an incentive for Lord Prince to get his arse in gear and do something to help his grandson.

James would probably – once they got over this current mess – moan about him helping Snape, but months ago even he'd begrudgingly agreed that no child should be treated like that. James was still furious over Harry's treatment and Harry hoped his hot-headed soulmate wouldn't do something that would land him in Azkaban before he even hit his teens. No matter how he thought this through, this was different from James nonchalantly confessing he loved Harry to his parents. Some people thought spontaneity kept things interesting, but Harry honestly wanted to throttle the twat at the moment.

Unless things got sorted quickly Harry was going to start sleeping in his own bed at Hogwarts. See how the git likes that! Yeah, he supposed it would upset him a little too, but it wasn't as if he could do something like withhold sex; their pre-puberty bodies weren't really cooperative in that regard.

Honestly, just because he was well on his way to being in love with the tosser didn't mean James Potter didn't make him want to slam his own head against a wall more often than not. Or James' head. He was certainly leaning towards the latter at this moment in time.

Harry sighed and thought about his soulmate. He hoped things were going okay with him; he might be angry and annoyed at him right now but he didn't want anything to happen to the idiot. What he was doing wasn't exactly simple, after all.

James had never been more grateful for his ability to effortlessly spout bullshit than the moment he was stood face-to-face with his Slytherin Black mother trying to boldly lie to her face without her noticing.

He supposed it was lucky that he wasn't truly lying but rather twisting the truth to his needs, especially because the woman that had birthed him had the uncanny ability to sniff out a lie a mile away. It was bloody weird if you asked James, but he had enough common sense not to say anything like that where she could hear. His father might be an easy-going Gryffindor but he had enough sense to impart that very useful knowledge to his son.

This wasn't exactly a situation that many people ever wanted to be in, but having powerful and proactive parents certainly helped to avoid figuring out a complex plan that could quickly go to shit. James had always known he could go to his parents for information about anything he wanted, even if that included something others might deem too 'dark' or scandalous.

Which meant he could use his parents to get rid of the Horcrux and Voldemort.

He and Harry had spoken at length about trying to figure how to get rid of the Dark Tosser, but knowing how and who can destroy him and arranging for it to happen were two entirely different things.

(Well, they'd spoken before he had well and truly fucked things up by practically shattering the already-fragile trust of his soulmate and essentially spitting in his face after the other had asked him not to do something like that. Way to fucking go James, it wasn't as if the bloke who you're meant to be with completely bared his soul for you and hoped you wouldn't fuck him over like so many others. Oh wait, he did, and you still screwed him over by ignoring the one fucking thing he asked of you. Quite frankly, if he didn't have to do the Voldemort shit right now, he'd be begging Harry via letter to have the floo password to Mors Hall so he could get on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness. Though even that wasn't really enough; Harry deserved so much more than that.)

Unfortunately the Horcrux and Voldemort were still a problem, and trying to make up for his shitty actions was going to have to wait. Neither he nor Harry could just waltz into the bank with a Horcrux because the goblins would notice what it was – or at least realise how vile the thing was – and would probably try and kill them without giving them a chance to speak. Also, one of them writing to the bank wouldn't exactly work either. How could they explain how two eleven-year-old children knew what a Horcrux was? Not all goblins were trustworthy and would keep quiet, and that wasn't the sort of recognition they wanted. Despite he and Harry both being Heirs, the Potter and Peverell families were currently under the control of Charlus and Melissa respectively, and the goblins overseeing their accounts would inform their guardians on principle.

Telling a guardian was a different matter entirely.

Despite heading a light family, Charlus Potter wasn't exactly a supporter of Dumbledore, and his mother vocally despised the Headmaster because of his prejudiced views on dark magic. They weren't the sort of people who would encourage their son to go the old man with any of his problems at school, instead preferring him to write them and get their opinions.

James had written home at the beginning of November to let his parents know he'd 'found' an old artefact that felt really bad even for dark magic and asked them what to do with it. As expected, his reply had said to bring it home over the Yule break so they could take it to Gringotts for examination. His father had made an actual appointment with the bank who were aware they were bringing something questionable in to the building; the goblins couldn't go mad and kill them seeing as they'd warned them in advance, and soon enough the Dark Tosser would spontaneously die without anyone realising.

Take that, Dumblefuck.

But first he had to just slightly twist his words around so his parents weren't looking at him suspiciously for having had a Horcrux in his possession.

"Son, exactly how did you find a piece of someone's soul?"

Charlus Potter looked grim-faced, his mum looked faintly nauseous, and the goblin across the desk was all but foaming at the mouth as he glared at James. He resisted the urge to snort and roll his eyes; he wasn't the one who'd thought it a good idea to shred his soul into pieces because he was an arrogant psycho.

"There's a hidden room on the seventh floor, Harry and I found it when we were exploring. We've been trying to find as many secret passages and whatnot as we can. We found out if you walk past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy three times while thinking of what you need, the room appears as whatever you ask for.

"We asked one of the house-elves and they told us there was a room where they throw junk away and where things get hidden. We decided to look around and we realised there are loads of things in the room. I found some cupboard that looked like a Vanishing Cabinet before I found that thing sitting on top," he explained, nodding to the cursed diadem on the desk.

"Harry ended up grabbing me because I'd started to put it on without realising. When I felt okay again we realised the thing felt really wrong, so we decided to leave and I wrote to you. Then I put it in the box you sent me to bring it home."

There, simple and to the point. He actually had been slightly ensnared by the Horcrux, so he wasn't exactly lying. The only real lie in his explanation was that he and Harry had discovered the room by themselves, and there wasn't really any way to prove him wrong.

His father cleared his throat and turned to the goblin. "So, what happens now?"

"Nothing for you. The goblin nation will now cleanse the object of its taint and destroy the person responsible for tearing themselves into several pieces and violating the most sacred laws of magic. Disgusting is what they are," muttered the goblin sharply.

"Excuse me?" his mother interrupted with alarm on her face. "Did you just say 'several'?"

The goblin (what was his name again?) looked the woman in the eye. "Indeed. I can tell from the feeling this object emits that this individual has done this more than once."

Amidst the feelings of disgust and bewilderment of said person's complete and total idiocy at shredding themselves to pieces, the Potter trio were ushered from the bank with haste by the goblins, and the small family were soon back in Diagon Alley sans Horcrux.

"James."

He looked up to see serious hazel eyes locked onto his own. "Dad?"

"I'm sure you understand and this warning is unnecessary, but I want to make sure you remember not to mention what you heard to anyone else. That information is too dangerous to spread around."

James nodded and made sure to keep the serious expression on his face. He didn't think his parents would appreciate him cackling madly in the middle of such an important conversation.

After a moment the family of three were strolling down the alley looking just as carefree as always. Nobody around them had any idea they'd just delivered something so vile to the bank, and certainly nobody had any idea they'd just expedited the end of the war before it could truly begin, including his parents. This was definitely something he'd be keeping quiet on for the rest of his life; his family didn't need to know that the nearly two-dozen members of the House of Potter would have been reduced to just him in the space of nine years.

James smirked to himself, imagining what old Snake Face was going to do when he suddenly started to die without any warning or idea of what was going on. It was a shame he wouldn't be able to see it with his own eyes. Nobody got away with hurting Harry. His mind flashed back to the pain-filled letter he'd received the day before and grimaced. That includes me. He'd hurt his own soulmate and it was up to him to do something about it, even if he had to grovel like a dog; it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it. He turned and looked up at his mother.

"Hey, Mum. Do you think you could help me with something?"

Harry looked around the grounds of Potter Manor, trying to figure out where his errant soulmate was and what the fuck he was even doing out here to begin with. Getting a letter practically begging for him to come over was one thing, but coming through the floo to see Lady Dorea Potter smirking at him with an amused glint in her eyes was just bizarre. Her words weren't exactly much help, either.

"Just head out back and I'm sure you'll figure out the trail."

What bloody trail? He hoped she wasn't talking about that oversized hedge-maze fifty feet away, because he really couldn't be arsed with trying to puzzle his way through to the middle or other side or wherever the fuck he was supposed to go. He thought James wanted to talk to him, not … this.

Suddenly he heard a soft pop like elf Apparition and he turned towards the imposing maze, spotting a splash of colour by the opening that stood out from the lush green. He made his way over to the structure and looked at the object on the floor before bending down and picking it up. It was a flower. Well, more like a cluster of small flowers that all sprouted from the stem underneath. The deep purple colour had the slightest tinge of blue, and Harry took a moment to admire the plant despite his confusion. He really wasn't sure what the hell it was doing there. Unless …

Harry could feel his pulse speed up and swallowed reflexively at the seemingly-innocuous flowers in his grasp. He might have been rather blasé concerning etiquette and typical pure-blood knowledge, but that didn't mean he was unaware of it. Years ago, he'd educated himself on all manner of topics out of sheer boredom and floriography had been one of them. He scoured through his knowledge of flowers and their meanings before he came to the right one, causing his heart to skip a beat.

Purple hyacinths. Please forgive me.

This was … James Potter wasn't someone who was invested in traditions and expressions of emotion, so the very fact that he'd put so much thought into this made Harry smile despite himself. On the one hand he wanted to hold onto his anger and scorn the gesture, but the other – and larger – part of himself missed James. He wasn't going to brush the disagreement under the carpet and forgive the other immediately, because the two of them really did need to sit down and have a proper discussion concerning their relationship, but Harry took the hyacinths as a sign that things could be fixed without too much hassle.

Out the corner of his eye Harry saw another colour, paler this time, further into the maze, stuck in the hedge at the end of the first pathway. In a bit of a daze, he drifted towards the new flower still clutching the purple hyacinths until he saw the small white flower in the hedge. He pulled it out.

Star of Bethlehem. Atonement, reconciliation.

Jesus Christ, he really is going all out, isn't he? Harry took a deep breath and let it out shakily, adding the new flower to the others, almost as if it was the start of a small bouquet. As the idea sprung to mind he lifted his head and surveyed the maze, and as he thought, down the left pathway in the fork sat another piece of flora placed in the hedge, leading further into the maze.

The pattern continued as he followed the flowers and plants, each of them leading him into what he thought was the centre of the maze as he picked up more things for his makeshift bouquet.

Bluebells, humility and constancy … James understood what he'd done wrong …

… filbert for reconciliation and flowering almonds for hope … he wants to fix this …

… calendula for considering something sacred … Harry felt his heart thud at what his soulmate might consider sacred at this time …

… allium, unity, humility and patience … again recognising his faults, though acknowledging patience is something we need …

… satin-flowers for sincerity … James wasn't messing with him, this was real …

… celandine, future joy … he swallowed at the definitive desire for a future together …

… lungwort meaning 'thou art my life' … Harry didn't think anyone had ever cherished him quite like this …

He turned a corner and came to the centre of the maze, the large circular clearing clearly marked by the beautiful gazebo sat in the middle. The structure was made of white wood, pristine-looking despite the fact it was probably years old, surrounded by a low fence of swirling wrought-iron and covered by curling ivy. The plant had grown up all the wooden pillars around the gazebo and even around the edge of the roof, but inside was what made Harry's chest tight.

James was sat on a burgundy blanket in the gazebo, surrounded by boxes and plates of food and drink, every single one of them something that Harry preferred above all others. Aside from the impromptu picnic, his soulmate was holding up a single stem as he sat cross-legged, several sky-blue flowers blooming from it and all but smacking Harry over the face with emotions.

Forget-me-nots, for faithfulness and true love.

Harry drew in a breath and let it out slowly trying to control himself, though considering how shaky it was he wasn't exactly in complete control of himself. This was … everything about this was just making him choke up, trying to come to terms with the truths he was being shown here.

He and James were soulmates, yes, but that didn't mean that James had to be so romantic towards him. Their relationship was practically a forgone conclusion at this point considering the bond couldn't be broken in any way – not that Harry had wanted to, no matter how upset he'd been – so nothing had to really be done except negotiate the future of their relationship. Nothing about being soulmates meant that you had to carry out romantic gestures or even apologise for upsetting the other party. Once soulmates met they were going to be together, end of discussion, and there was no obligation to try and ease any upset caused.

James had done this of his own volition.

That thought went a long way to soothing his feelings of betrayal, and even though the issue was nowhere near resolved, Harry sent a soft smile towards James and wandered over to the gazebo, stepping inside the wooden hideout and settling down on the blanket across from the other boy. He leaned over and plucked the forget-me-nots from James, belatedly noticing the thin white ribbon around the stem and grinning, spending a few moments using the ribbon to tie all his newly-acquired flowers together. Not all the colours and shapes of the plants went together aesthetically, but his knowledge of the meanings behind them was more than enough to make up for the jumbled physicality.

A hand appeared in his vision and told hold of his left one, gripping it gently and raising it before a soft kiss was pressed to his left ring finger.

"I'm sorry."

Harry looked up to see his soulmate fidgeting where he sat with an expression of indecision on his face. Eventually he sighed and dropped their hands to the floor, though he kept hold of Harry's hand and threaded their fingers together.

"I'm an arsehole, Harry. I've always been an arsehole, and frankly by this point I don't know how to be anything but. I was spoiled and adored by my parents, the professors let me get away with murder for some reason, and there was no shortage of people fawning over me growing up. I wasn't punished for anything I did, and everything just fanned the flames of my growing ego until I ended up a self-entitled prick that didn't have a single serious thought about life. I never cared about hurting people because to me, in the grand scheme of things, they didn't matter unless they were my parents.

"Except for you. You're the most important person to me, regardless of the soulmate thing, because you actually know what a twat I am and for some bloody reason you accepted me. You never asked me to change, you didn't try and control me, and I honestly can't figure out why you'd even be receptive to me to begin with. I wasn't going to question it, though. You wanting me was bloody brilliant."

James clenched his eyes shut, shoulders tensing slightly. "I took advantage of that. I saw the fact that we were soulmates and therefore bound together anyway as an excuse that I had no boundaries and could do what I wanted. I mean, my parents were open-minded and they were going to find out eventually, so why not just tell them now and get it over with? I didn't have a proper motivation, I just thought it'd be funny and you'd see the funny side of it.

"I broke your trust," he bit out, leaning forward so his forehead was leaning on their clasped hands. "You asked me not to say anything without discussing it and I did it anyway. I can't explain how … how fucking shitty I am, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for doing that. I just … I wanted to show you off, but I did something you didn't want, and even if I don't quite get your problems I should have known you wouldn't ask me something like that without reason. You're – you're fucking amazing, you know? I know I don't deserve you – never will in a million years – but I don't want to lose you because of my own shitty actions. I can't.

"I'm sorry."

Harry listened to the words of his soulmate – the soulmate who was a hell of a lot more self-aware than Harry had given him credit for – and couldn't help but appreciate the candid words. James knew he was a git, knew he'd fucked up, and he understood it was the simple act of going behind Harry's back that was the issue. He knew exactly what he'd done to upset Harry and felt remorse for his actions. Perhaps a bit more than simple remorse if the feeling of tears on the back of Harry's hand was anything to go by.

He didn't want to hold this against James by not accepting his heartfelt apology. His soulmate had fucked up good and proper but was at least mature enough to figure out how and where he'd screwed up and understand that was something he needed to work on. Honestly, for someone that had gone from a spoilt teenager to dying at just twenty-one, James was remarkably lacking in rose-coloured glasses concerning his personality.

The two of them were both fucked up in their own ways, and things weren't going to be smooth sailing all the way, but Harry wasn't going to sit back and let their relationship fall apart when he truly cared for James.

"I don't like people controlling my life."

Harry's words made James twitch, and though he didn't lift his head Harry knew he was listening.

"My entire life has been fucked up by people trying to control me. Trelawney's prophecy made Dumbledore want to control me, so much so that he ensured I grew up ignorant of everything I needed to know. The Dursleys controlled everything I could do or eat or say, hell, even what I could think. The adults around me all seemed to think they could control what information was given to me, as if I had no clue myself what was appropriate to know about myself.

"My friends," he began slowly with a frown, "they all wanted to control what 'Harry Potter' should be. Sure, they might have acted like they cared about me, but the only real importance I had to them was in relation to how I made them look. I was the famous friend who had to be less intelligent to make Hermione feel better about herself. I was the celebrity who hung out with Ron to make himself seem more important. I was the 'hero' that saved Ginny, the perfect target for her fairy tale happily-ever-after that would make everyone jealous of her.

"Nobody gave a shit about me as a person."

He sighed and squeezed James' hand. "You were the first person to look at me as a person that you wanted and you were interested in personally. Even if it was just the soulmate angle at first, you latched onto me as a person and asked me questions, got to know me and took an interest without any of my baggage influencing you. To you, I wasn't the miraculous survivor of the Killing Curse, or the defeater of Voldemort, or even the Head of two prestigious Houses, I was just Harry and I was ecstatic to have you treat me that way.

"That's why it fucking hurt when you told your parents," Harry explained softly. "You were really and truly the first person to treat me as my own human being – even Sirius and Remus saw me as James' son – and then you went behind my back like that. Yeah, I can imagine it was kind of funny for you, but you were the person I trusted not to screw me over by taking away my control. I've been screwed over so many times as Harry Potter that I decided Henry Peverell was going to live how he wanted without anyone making decisions for him."

Harry blew air out his mouth and grimaced. "I suppose then there's my problems. I've … I haven't exactly hidden them from you, but handling things myself has just become so ingrained in my life over the past few decades that it's hard to let people in. When I have flashbacks or nightmares I know to hunker down somewhere and be quiet so I don't disturb anyone, I don't draw attention to my eating habits and I clean only when I'm alone so people don't realise how … messed up I am. I don't think my mental state is all that attractive, to be honest," he finished with a sharp and bitter laugh.

"Don't say that."

Harry looked across to see James sat up and hazel eyes boring intensely into his, his soulmate's other hand now cupping his cheek and rubbing gently with his thumb. Harry swallowed at the look directed his way and willed himself not to cry. He might be in the body of a child but he was a grown adult; he had better control of himself than this.

"There's nothing – I mean nothing – wrong with you. You had a horrendous childhood, spent your teens being hunted by a crazy madman, fought a war at seventeen, and got forced into a marriage without your self-centred bitch of a wife lifting a single finger to help sort out your problems which she would have noticed had she not been such a selfish cow!

"Do you have any idea how strong you are to have come out the other side of that a kind and genuine person?" James murmured. "I'm bloody honoured to be able to say that you're my soulmate, and I know damn well I don't deserve you in the slightest. This mess has just proven that," he sorted self-depreciatingly.

"James –"

"I'm a wanker, I know that, and I'm going to spend as long as it takes to get you to forgive me. I'm going to read every single thing I can on your problems, I'm going to make sure I talk to you about everything when I get an idea, and I'm never going to try and control you. I know I fucked up, but I need you to know that me spilling the beans had nothing to do with wanting to control you. I might be a bastard, but that's one thing I've never wanted nor tried to do."

Harry leaned into the hand on his cheek and turned his head, pressing a small kiss to James' thumb before facing him head on again. "I know this situation isn't nearly as resolved as I'd like it to be but I should probably start by saying I do forgive you, or at least I'm working towards it. It's a work in progress but I want to get there. I probably won't be forgetting things any time soon, but I don't want to lie to you and just sweep things under the carpet or I'll end up silently resenting you or something, and that won't do either of us any good."

James slumped and a small smile broke through on his face, though the expression was tinged with bitterness directed inwards. "Thank you. Honestly, I have no idea where I'd be without you."

Harry thought about making a joke or something to lighten the tension, but in the wake of the recent confessions it seemed in poor taste to cheapen the fragile resolutions. He wanted something to cement their reconciliation, but the only thing he could think of was another confession that practically gave him heart palpitations from sheer nerves.

He supposed it was something that would be revealed eventually, and if said now it had the potential to expedite the removal of their current awkwardness and get their relationship back on track. He was mature enough to recognise that any declaration wasn't going to make them forget this first argument or get in the way of their future discussions, so now it was just a case of finding his annoyingly-elusive Gryffindor courage and determining whether or not he had the guts to come clean.

Come on Harry, you can do this. You were put in the House of the brave twice now, that has to count for something …

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, lifting his free hand to lay it over the one James still had on his face, his other gripping James tightly – probably too tightly – and trembling a little. Not the best impression he could give, but at least James seemed to recognise Harry was serious right now.

"I don't want us to drag out fixing things because I miss us sending letters and messing around and whatnot. Long story short, I care about you and I miss you.

"I … I love you, James."

James seemed to freeze before his eyes, hands stilling and breathing ceasing entirely, the only indication of life in the frantic pulse Harry could feel in his soulmate's wrist. Harry was tempted to start hoping and praying for the ground to swallow him whole or if he could just run away, straight through the hedges instead of around if need be, but he knew that them not talking things through properly was the reason for their problems to begin with.

His thoughts were cut off by a pair of lips slamming forcefully and possessively onto his, arms slipping around his waist to drag him into James' lap as kisses were pressed with fervour to his lips. A familiar tongue found its way to his lips and teased the seam before slipping inside Harry's willing mouth, sliding over every inch it could to taste him, feel him as their ragged breath mingled inside their mouths.

James' hands slid down Harry's sides and found their way under his winter coat and shirt, fingers teasing the thin waist before dipping his fingers just slightly down the back of Harry's trousers and pulling Harry's smaller body closer into his lap. His lips were just as greedy, practically drowning Harry's mouth as he snogged him breathless, carrying on until neither of them could go another second without fresh air.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" James gasped, eyes bright with emotion. "I swear you do this on purpose. Jesus Christ Harry, of course I love you, too. I don't care that you're my soulmate, or that you're the only other person in this time who knows the future, you're the only one who's tried to help me be a better person without trying to change me. You're kind, caring, generous to people – even evil gits like Snivellus – strong in person and physically and you always see the best in people.

"I could sit here all day and still be nowhere near done explaining why you're so fucking great, but the simple truth is you are, and I don't think I can ever quite explain how lucky I feel to have fallen in love with you."

Harry could feel tears in his eyes, but instead of paying attention to them he just beamed at James, trying to convey just how much those words meant to him. Their relationship wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but if anything having a massive disagreement and not falling apart made it more substantial, more real. They were a proper couple and Harry was ecstatic.

This time he was the one that started the over-enthusiastic kiss, and even though nothing physical was happening for them he felt giddy with elation.

They were happy together, and in the end that was kind of the point.

A/N: Hey guys!

So ... did this chapter completely throw off the tone of the story? I was originally going to make it lighthearted and funny, but I just kept writing and writing (as seen by the word count lol) and this is how it turned out. On the one hand this is a funny fic, but on the other I didn't want to make fun of something that is genuinely a serious issue, not only in fiction. People might have thought Harry to be over-reacting, but I hope I got across his reasons for how he felt and why he reacted that way. Hopefully.

Sorry if I got any of the flower meanings wrong, I was consulting a floriography site as I wrote the chapter, so if anything's wrong it's entirely their fault lol. But seriously, this isn't something I've ever been taught so there might be mistakes.

I'm not sure how many of you following this story follow my other works, but for those of you who aren't I've been experiencing a disturbing lack of motivation combined with long work hours and a stupidly-strict update schedule I set myself, so my enjoyment of writing has taken a rather sharp dive recently. I might have to have longer between updates just to get everything out properly without killing myself, and it's only because I REALLY don't want to go on a hiatus that I'm doing things this way. It won't be much longer, but I'm afraid real life and my health are going to have to come first.

Sorry for these stupidly-long notes but I don't want to keep you guys in the dark. I hope you liked the chapter and I'll see you next time.

Happy reading!