Fifty Four

That Christmas, Harry's resemblance to the Dr. Seuss character, the Grinch, was uncanny.

From the time he stepped through the Floo and into the Burrow's sitting room, his mood was foul. The Yuletide festivities that he normally took such delight in only served to worsen his mood, until, by the time Christmas morning rolled in under a blanket of heavy snow, he was so surly that he could hardly bring himself to wish any of his adopted family so much as a 'Happy Holidays'.

It didn't help that everybody at the Burrow was neatly paired off into blissfully happy couples. From Mr. and Mrs. Weasley right down to little Teddy Lupin and Victorie Weasley. In the past these pairings had only served to make Harry wistful, now, they made him furious. Furious at Severus mostly, for refusing what would be so easy to achieve, but also furious at himself, for falling for the wrong man, and allowing himself to be made a fool of.

Everybody at the Burrow was aware of Harry's surly mood, indeed, it would be near impossible not to be, but all were at a loss to explain it. Ron perhaps, had the best idea, but refused to allow the possibility that his best friend was heartbroken, over Snape!

Harry's depression was a palpable thing; one felt it as soon as they entered a room with him in it. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were concerned, Harry heard them discussing as much in hushed whispers in the kitchen, but he did little to alleviate their concerns, lacking the emotional energy such a conversation would necessitate.

"You right mate?" Sirius had asked, clasping Harry bracingly on the shoulder, as they all congregated together for Christmas lunch. "Seem a bit down in the dumps."

"Fine," Harry grunted in reply, allowing himself to be steered into a chair beside his Godfather, and silently willing Sirius to drop the subject.

"Thought whoever you're shagging would have put a smile on your face," Sirius winked conspiratorially. "Or is it blue balls from being here that have you down and out?"

"Something like that," Harry muttered in response, thinking that unless he accepted Severus's terms, blue balls were likely to become a permanent fixture on his person.

"How's it going?" Ron asked lowly, as they all sat crowded around the Christmas tree after stuffing themselves full of Mrs. Weasley's delicious cooking. "You know with...what we discussed last time?"

"Fine," Harry replied, fixing his gaze on a spot above Ron's head, refusing to meet his friends' gaze, for fear Ron, who knew him better than nearly anyone in the world, would see the raw pain lurking in them.

"You're even starting to look like him," Ron laughed, a little uncomfortably. "What with the hair and all."

Harry ran an unconscious hand over the short ponytail gathered at the nape of his neck. It had been an unconscious decision to let his hair grow, but since he had, he found he rather liked it. It was much more manageable long than it had ever been short. With a pang, Harry remembered the hair fastening that Severus had thrown at him one night, sick of Harry's hair dangling on his face while they made love. It was that fastening in his hair right at that moment and Harry barely resisted the urge to rip it out then and there.

Late on Christmas night, lying in bed in one of the Burrow's many bedrooms, Harry made a decision. If this was life without Severus in it at all, it was no life for him. He would take whatever his reticent lover had to offer and resolved never again to ask for more. The tiny portion of Severus's soul the man allowed him through sex and good conversation was better than none of him at all.

The next day, as he made to leave the Burrow to return to Hogwarts, Mrs. Weasley smothered him in one of her signature hugs.

"I know things are hard for you right now, Harry dear," she murmured, smoothing his ponytail lovingly. "And I won't pretend to know why and I won't promise you that it's all going to be okay, but please know that whatever you need, whenever you need it, Arthur and I, and everyone else, are always here for you."

"Thanks Molly," Harry spoke through a sizable lump in his throat. Blinking back tears that he didn't want her to see, he kissed her cheek a final time, gathered his backpack and stepped through the flames of the fireplace, back to Hogwarts and Severus who, hopefully still, awaited him there.


Thank you for reading. As we approach 300 reviews I have a little competition to entice you all with. The person who posts the three hundredth review can request any outtake from Finding Home that they would like to see, and I'll write it and post it as a one shot on my main page. I can't wait to see what whoever it is comes up with! Thanks again. SR.