Chapter Thirty Three: And then there were four

The next morning Harry ate his breakfast in silence, he was surprised to find that he was nervous about Draco's arrival. But he was also just tired, yesterday everything had seemed like a fight, and he had hardly slept after being woken from nightmares and memories of Christmases past, with Remus and Sirius randomly popping into them to yell at him. So he didn't have any fight left.

His breakfast was porridge again, he had noticed that Remus and Sirius had kept the menu pretty bland and consistent, which he appreciated. He still hadn't completed his list of challenge foods, so he wondered how they were guessing what foods would be 'easier' for him. Perhaps Lou is helping them,he thought to himself as he forced down the last swallow of the warm, sweet porridge. He and Lou had talked about food a bit yesterday, and more at the hospital. Not as much as she clearly wanted him to, but he got the feeling that she had more than guessed at where his obsession with not eating had stemmed from. It's not that hard to figure out, he thought to himself miserably as he stood and went to the sink to wash his dishes. He knew that Remus or Sirius (Who was not actually awake yet, not being a morning person) could clean them magically, but it felt nice to do something for himself, and no one stopped him. They all know that the Dursley's starved me, I guess it's not that surprising that I'd be weird about food after that. Harry shook his head and dried his hand on a grungy towel that looked suspiciously like the one Kreater wore. I need to stop with all this self reflection, He thought with a laugh, Or soon I won't even need Lou for therapy.

That thought reminded him of his homework, to write in the journal she had given him. So he headed to his room to see if the journal had found its way into his current room, or if he would have to try to venture upstairs to look for it. As he rummaged through the small desk in his bedroom, vaguely aware that Remus was hovering close enough to be within hearing distance, he scowled. They probably won't even let me go upstairs, He thought glumly. It's not like I'm an invalid, sure I get tired easily, but it's just a flight of stairs! I climbed hundreds of them a day at school.

Harry sighed and sat back in the desk chair, notebook in hand. Here it is! I guess I'll save the stairs for another day. He curled up in the soft chair in the corner of the room with the notebook open on his lap. Careful to avoid the pages still stained with blood (he knew someone had cleaned them, but they would still be stained with blood in his mind), he opened to a blank page, and put pen to paper. He tried not to think too much about what to write. His mind went to the images from his nightmares, the memories of Christmases past… then he remembered something they used to do at his primary school each year; they wrote letters to father christmas. He had always had to make things up, all too aware that an honest letter of what his Christmas wish was would have landed him in deep trouble with the Dursleys. But now… it might be fun to write a letter… it's something to do anyway. Harry chewed his lip, it's childish, I'm way too old to believe in father christmas! But… I don't know it might be nice… to just be childish and silly again.

And so he put pen to paper, and found that the words came faster than he had expected.

Dear Father Christmas,

I know I haven't written you in years, not sure if you factor in loyalty when you

consider fulfilling christmas wishes, or if it's just the naughty or nice business

that you care about. Either way I'm probably the last person who should be

asking for a wish… I can hardly claim to have been 'good' this year… but If

You take circumstances into account, maybe you'll understand. Dudley

never got any coal in his stocking so I imagine you are pretty forgiving.

For my Christmas wish...

Harry paused and thought about what it was he actually wanted, if Father Christmas was real, what would he ask for? The answer came faster than he had expected.

For my Christmas wish, I would like you to go back and change time..

Or send me back, I'll let you worry about the details. But I want to change

my life, have Sirius and Remus find me sooner. I want them to have adopted

me when I was three years old. I would have grown up with magic, and

knowing stories about my parents by heart. They renovate Grimald place, and

Ron and I have been best friends forever because Mrs. Weasley watches

me while Remus and Sirius work. When I had nightmares I would crawl

into bed with Remus, because Sirius hates being woken up. And as I got

older Sirius would let me stay up late watching movies. I grew up happy, and

loved, and I never thought about the Dursleys ever again because I had so

many happy memories, that they were just blotted out.

I know that's a lot to ask of you, Father Christmas, and you're not even real…

But it's still nice to think about.

Harry smiled sadly at the entry, his gaze shifting to his magical window as he imagined what his life would have been like had he been raised by Remus and Sirius from the start. He smiled at the thought of it, but wondered if he would be different. Obviously you'd be different, he chastised himself. I guess a better question is how… what parts of me are just me, and what's because of them? The question gave Harry a sort of sick feeling. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of any part of him being because of the Dursleys. Would I have been a bully, like my dad? Would I still have been in Gryffindor? Friends with Ron? He had a knot in his stomach now, so he pushed the thought away. Standing he paced around his room for a few minutes before retreating to the parlor and turning on the telly. He was curled up in a tight ball under one of the large fluffy blankets when he heard the floo flare to life.

Snape stepped out, with Malfoy close behind him. Harry shot up awkwardly, kicking himself for forgetting that they would be arriving, and letting them find him curled up in the fetal position in his PJ's. "Um, hey" He said awkwardly.

Severus smiled at him, stepping further into the room and graciously ignoring Harry's disheveled appearance. "Good morning Harry, it's nice to see you out of the hospital."

Harry nodded "Em, thanks Sev… How're you guys doing?"

Severus smiled but glanced at his watch as he spoke. "I'm doing very well, but unfortunately I am short on time today. We will have to catch up another time, Harry." He then turned to Draco and asked in a low voice "Will you be alright while I speak to Remus and Siris?"

Draco gave one of his signature scowls "I'm not a toddler in need of babysitting," When Severus just stared back at him he gave a slight nod, "Yes I'll be fine." He mumbled.

With that Snape exited the room, heading swiftly towards the kitchen. And Harry and Draco were alone. Harry chewed his lip for a moment, unsure what to say to the other boy who had become his friend. Draco was clearly upset, and Harry could only imagine why. He tried to remember how he had felt when He had first come to Grimmauld place, when everyone had first found out. It was awful… I wasn't speaking, and yet they had guessed everything. I hadn't even wanted anyone to look at me. He sighed, while that may have been a healthy reflection on that difficult time, it didn't give him an idea of what to say to the sullen blonde across the room.

He finally settled for nodding to the TV, "Have you ever watched telly?" He asked as normally as he could manage.

Draco scowled again, but then seemed to sigh and resign himself to his fate. He shuffled forward and perched on the chair next to the couch. "Not really," He admitted "We don't have any muggle things at home."

Harry smiled and nodded as the show came on, "This is a great one," He commented "FRIENDS is a show about a bunch of Americans in their 20's living in New York City. I used to sneak downstairs and watch the reruns of it in the middle of the night."

Draco watched the show with an almost unreadable look for a few minutes. When it broke for commercials he glanced around the room and shook his head "I can't believe I've got to spend my holiday in this dump." He complained

Harry rolled his eyes "At least you aren't at the manor, right?" He said, trying to sound positive.

Draco just glared at him "What makes you think I'm happy about that? You think it's a good thing, my family's name being dragged through the mud, having to spend the holidays away from them, just because you couldn't keep your mouth shut?"

Harry's jaw dropped "but...but" he protested "but your father, he hurt you Draco, how could you want to go back to him?"

Draco folded his arms, glaring at the other boy, "It's called loyalty Potter, not all of us hate our families."

Harry swallowed, trying to remind himself that Draco was hurting. "You know that's not fair." He said angrily. "And I did the right thing, telling Severus. You were really hurt, the next time he could have killed you!"

. Trigger Warning *** (self harm references)

Draco stood now, turning to walk away from the sitting area. Harry tried to grab at his arm, but caught only his sleeve. And in a moment, the air was swept from his lungs. He let go of his friend, as if he had been burned. Draco, for all his anger the moment before, seemed to be frozen in place. His eyes met Harry's, the pain, the anger, but mostly shame billowing behind his grey irises.

They stood like that, frozen in silence for a long moment. Harry finally spoke, nodding to his friend's sleeve, to the white gauze now peeking out from it. "Does Severus know?" He asked quietly.

Draco chewed his lip for a moment, then nodded "I imagine he's telling your guardians all about my issues as we speak."

Harry nodded, thinking through this new information. "How long… is it, did you… it's not… because of me, is it?"

Draco rolled his eyes, moving back into the room, seeming to accept that they had moved past their fight. "No Harry, believe it or not you are not the first teen in the history of the world to cut themselves. It didn't start until this past semester, but I was aware of the concept of self harm long before our run in at the loony bin."

Harry nodded, still trying to process the information. He sat with his arms braced against his knees, staring at nothing, until Draco's left hand came into focus.

I must not dishonor my family

It was a faint raised white line, and Harry didn't have to wonder where it came from. He ran his right hand over his left involuntarily.

Draco either noticed the gesture, or simply guessed that Harry had put two and two together. "Yes, our lovely mutual friend may have pushed me into the habit." He said bitterly. "She had quite the knack for picking lines, didn't she?"

Harry followed Draco's gaze to his own hand, I must not tell lies written in the same faint, white lines. He merely nodded.

Blessedly, the show came back on, and they both returned their attention to it. But Harry's mind couldn't stay off the white bandages on his friend's arm, his heart ached for him. But he was also reminded all too keenly of the thin white lines littering his own arms, and even thighs. As the show played on he couldn't help but reach his hands into his sleeves and run his hands down the jagged scars. He knew he should hate them, and to some extent he did, he never wore short sleeves if he could help it. But in some twisted way he was sure Lou would love to 'explore' with him, he was glad he still had the scars, that they hadn't been magicked away last summer.

Trigger Warning End: Harry discovered that Draco has been self harming. All the adults are aware of the situation. They have a moment bonding over the blood quill scars.