3

The air was crisp and cool, almost sterile, like a science lab. Only this place wasn't a lab (per se), it was an office, located in the Hampstead Gardens Suburb. When he arrived for his first appointment, he thought nothing particularly interesting about the space. In front of him was a desk and a chair. To his corner right was a sleeper couch and in the opposite corner, there was a child sized bright yellow table and chair with drawing books and a box of toys with a teddy bear on top.

Naturally, it hadn't taken him long to begin to snoop around and he discovered there was an eerie safeness about the room. No sharp objects in sight, no exposed circuits, and almost every article had been bolted to the ground. The only things capable of being lifted out of place were the thick textbooks sorted neatly on the bookshelf.

He heard the door click and shut.

"Mr Potter," He heard as the middle aged woman strut breathlessly. He stood and extended his hand with a stiff smile. She shook it and walked around to sit at the table. She settled the small file under her arm onto the desk and pulled the pen from behind her ear and jotted something down.

"I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting-" She shook her head with a small smile, almost admonishing herself. With her head tilted downwards, he could see the beginnings of grey hair at the centre of her head.

Dr Evans was a psychologist, with decades worth experience, and more degrees than there was space on the wall to hang. She also had a distracting method of spinning her pen.

"It's fine, I wasn't here long anyway." Harry replied thinly.

No one knew Harry had taken to seeing a psychologist, not even his best friends. And no matter how much he loved them, he didn't need them thinking he needed a muggle loony doctor. But most of all; he didn't know where else to go. There was no magical fix for his problems and they ran deeper than he had ever thought they would. So, he made his first appointment three months ago and had been seeing her once a month since.

"Right," She breathed deeply and spun her pen. She smiled warmly, "How are you today?"

"Can't complain,"

She nodded as though waiting for him to say more.

"How've your headaches been?" She finally prompted.

"The same."

"I'll assume that means 'awful'."

He offered a small smile, she nodded and scribbled into her file.

"On a scale of one to ten, how severe would you say they are? With one being barely noticeable and ten being unable to move?"

Harry thought for a minute, "Probably a seven."

She nodded and scribbled in the file.

"What has your daily mood been so far? Roller-coaster like or pretty steady?" she smiled at him.

"Pretty steady,"

She stroked something in the file and spun her pen. She leaned her weight back in her seat and settled the pen beside the file.

"Last we spoke, Mr Potter. You mentioned a stalker you had had throughout your childhood."

Harry bit the inside of his lip then cleared his throat. Naturally, he couldn't tell a muggle about Voldemort and the entire saga that had branded him as the 'boy who lived' in the wizarding world. Instead, he'd told her about an obsessive stalker who killed both of his parents, and tried to kill him as an infant, but was apprehended. His 'stalker' remained in prison for a period and was released and then proceeded to devote the rest of his time, stalking an orphaned, teenage Harry.

"What happened to him?" Evans wrote in her file. Her fingers worked quickly. "This stalker of yours?"

"I killed him." Harry said plainly. Her eyes snapped up with a quirked brow, her hand paused, and the pen dipped. Her lips parted ever slightly.

"I'm joking," He chortled and shifted his glasses over the bridge of his nose. "He killed himself."

"-While trying to kill me." he added.

She cleared her throat into her arm.

"Perhaps, we should speak more about this man, Mr Potter." Her brows were furrowed as she scribbled and then looked at him concernedly.

"I'd rather not."

She nodded stiffly, "Alright. Then lets continue to speak about your childhood."

"Or lack thereof." Harry murmured.

"What?"

"What?"

"Your childhood, Mr Potter." she itterated softly. "What was it like growing up with your family?"

"I didn't have a family, at least not the biological variety."

She watched him carefully, "What do you feel when you think about that, Mr Potter?"

"That I was raised by terrible people." He shrugged.

"Yes, but how you feel?"

He felt a throb at his temple and resisted the urge to press against it. "I don't feel anything."

"Then why are you clenching your fists?"

Sure enough, his interlocked hands were bound in a vice grip. His nails dug into his flesh and almost tore the skin. Harry released his grip and set his hands on his knees. He wiped the sweat from his hands on his pants and began strumming his fingers to an unknown beat.

She sighed, spun her pen and set it on the table. She leaned back in her seat and watched him curiously.

"Mr Potter," She offered a sympathetic smile. "This process is not going to be easy, it will get uncomfortable for you. It may even become unbearable, but by it's end, you will develop the skills to make life a little more bearable for yourself."

"I'm not here because life's unbearable for me."

She sat upright. She pressed her elbows to the table and stared directly at him. When she spoke it was barely a whisper. "Then why are you here, Mr Potter?"

"I-" He stammered. "I just-"

His lips formed a thin line.

She sighed and seemed to slump, her lips curved into a small smile. "Mr Potter, I'd like to give you some homework." She picked her pen and scribbled into the file. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd like you to keep a journal. You won't have to share it with me or anyone else, it's for yourself."

Harry frowned. "What do I need a journal for?"

"Just to put down your feelings, it does not have to be structured, you could even draw if you like. Mostly, I want you to communicate what you feel, for instance, when you get your headaches. It's a great method of self monitoring and I think that might warm you up to the idea of communicating with me." She spoke and gestured between them. She tilted her head. "Does that make sense?"

"Sure," He nodded stiffly and blinked away the dull ache forming in the back of his neck.

"Good."

Half an hour later, the session concluded as it usually did; with a shake of their hands and she escorted him to the door. Harry figured she'd probably made a last minute note in her file 'Potential murderer?' and chuckled at the thought.

He let the door swing behind himself as he left the building and inhaled the scent of fresh grass. The sky was pale grey with small bursts of light that broke through the clouds. He shoved his hand into his coat pocket and picked out the small grocery list he'd scribbled for himself after being disappointed to find that Ginny had devoured almost everything in his fridge before she left.

He smirked and shook his head.

He'd caught himself before he'd miss the shop and turned into a corner store. He offered the cashier a stiff smile as he walked to the fridges. He picked up a box of cereal, juice, milk and some fruit. When he walked towards the cashier he paused beside a rack of fresh flowers. He picked a small bouquet and carried them with him.

The cashier was a young dark haired woman. She popped her gum and smiled mechanically at him and then rung his items. She gave him his total and prepared a bag to package his things.

Harry dug into his coat and pulled his wallet. He flipped through its content and his heart dropped.

He had no muggle money.

He swallowed and felt his cheeks burn. The gold coins he'd collected from Gringott's shined but he wouldn't suppose she would barter with him. He bashfully slotted his wallet into his pocket.

"S'wrong?" she looked him up and down and popped her gum.

"You know what? I'll-"

"-Ring mine with his." He heard beside him and suddenly became aware of a presence beside him.

He recognised the voice and then the hair.

Hermione.

She smiled at him and shook her head. He almost tripped over his feet as she pushed in front of him. The cashier did as told and he found the ceiling particularly interesting to stare at as the cashier rang a box of tampons amongst other things. Harry watched stiffly as Hermione paid for their things.

He picked up the packet and together they walked out. He held the door for her and let it slam behind them. He'd barely parted his lips to thank her when she rounded on him with narrowed eyes and smacked him on the shoulder with her bag. It was a light hit.

"It's been months! You've been avoiding everyone for months! I understand being a professor must be hard but still!" She looked a mix between genuinely angry and hurt.

"Avoiding is a strong word. I'm fairly easy to find-"

She narrowed her eyes on him.

"I haven't been avoiding anyone, Hermione. I planned to make it up to you and Ron tonight, all expense paid." He offered her a smile. She sighed and looked away from him and blinked back.

"Is it safe to ask for a hug?" He asked and offered one arm.

She blew a tuft of hair from her face and threatened to hit him with the bag but restrained herself. Instead, she shoved her hands in her coat and walked ahead of him. He knew he was forgiven.

He caught up to her in three steps.

"What're you doing around here anyway?" He asked.

She turned to him with an accusatory stare. "I should be asking you. My parents live here, I live here. What are you doing here?"

Harry blanched and pointed haphazardly. She stared at him expectantly and then glanced at the flowers.

"I was just going to place these..." His voice carried off as he recognised the alley that drew nearer. Hermione followed his gaze and said nothing as he turned into the alleyway. He lifted the tape over his shoulder and walked under it. It was a barely lit passageway that extended seemingly forever.

She followed two steps behind him and to his left until he stopped. The spot was unremarkable, save for a few deep cracks in the wall. Harry closed his eyes and swallowed. He set the bouquet on ground beside the other wilting flowers.

Hermione said nothing when he stepped beside her. Harry stared at the spot unblinkingly. He felt something stir in him.

And it made him sick.

He hurriedly followed the path out. Ignoring Hermione who called out to him. When he reached the end of the alley where light and air could finally reach him, he clenched the brick wall and bent over. He prepared himself to retch. But nothing came.

"Harry?" He heard a whisper behind him.

He angled himself away from her and raised his index finger. "Give me a moment."

He breathed deeply and cleared his throat.

When he'd felt he'd pulled himself together enough, he turned to her with a stiff smile. Her eyes conveyed the question her lips wouldn't utter.

"Yes, I'm okay," he spoke. "I was just a little overwhelmed."

'I don't believe you.' her eyes said. He tried to smile a little more sincerely and offered her his arm.

She took it with a reluctant smile and linked their arms. She gave him a reassuring squeeze and said nothing else.

They walked quietly together. He could feel the numerous questions burning in her throat. He was surprised with her self-restraint, and so he decided to alleviate her curiosity.

"That was the place where the triple homicide happened. I'm sure you heard about it…"

Hermione gasped and clamped her free hand over her lips. "Oh Harry,"

A year ago a family of three; a mother, father and infant had died in that alley. The public had been outraged, naturally, how possible was it for two healthy young adults and an infant to spontaneously die? The Muggle -Worthy Excuse Committee hurriedly blamed the incident on a toxic gas leak that caused the mysterious death. They cordoned off the area but people still frequented the place to pay their respects.

Of course, there had been no such gas leak. Only the actions of a dark wizard.

Maximilian Kite (Max Kite) had been a follower of Voldemort. Devoted, foolish and talentless. He had somehow weaseled himself out of the castle at the end of the battle of Hogwarts before the remaining aurors could capture him. He'd maintained a low profile while the ministry collected itself.

For all that Max was talentless, he was good at one thing: spreading pro-Voldemort ideologies about purity within the wizaring world and the death of muggles. Max had eluded aurors for seven years and by the time Harry and Ron had been assigned to find Max, they had honed their skills and become incredibly proficient in their abilities to track down dark wizards.

It had taken Harry less than a week to find Max and when they did, he was frightened and unpredictable.

They should have known better.

Harry led the chase into the alley, intent (perhaps overly eager) on arresting him that night.

Three bright flashes of green light jetted in front of him.

Three times he'd heard the life-ending curse.

And then came the maniacal laughter.

All Harry recalled of that moment was the thundering in his ears as the world moved slowly. He could only stare at the three bodies that laid before him.

He'd stared at them as Ron kicked Max's wand away and wrestled him to the ground. He'd stared at the bodies as Ron lifted Max to his feet, even as other aurors joined them. He'd stared into their lifeless eyes as Ron spoke and handed Max off to the others.

He watched them until Ron used both hands to turn him away.

Max Kite had been sentenced to a combined one hundred and fifty years in Azkaban. Seventy five years for his crimes committed during his allegiance with Voldemort and seventy five years for murdering three muggles. Harry had sat at the forefront to watch the trial, and was present everyday until its conclusion. When Max received his sentence, his head hung low. When he walked away from the podium, he did so with a sombre expression. His grey eyes were downcast and the chains around his wrists seemed to weigh heavily on him.

He followed the aurors who surrounded him. Wands at the ready. He approached Harry's direction towards the exit and their eyes locked.

He grinned.

And then began to chuckle. His grey eyes obscenely filled with mirth.

He was roughly shoved out of the court. The chains clanked around his wrists.

His cackle echoed behind him and never stopped.

(pb)

Harry spun his glass of firewhiskey and stared into its depths. He could see the reflection of his green eyes in the liquid. He felt a dull ache at his temple and blinked slowly. When he opened his eyes, Hermione was waving her hand in his face to drew his attention.

"Where're you off to?" she mostly mimed over the loud voices in the Leaky Cauldron.

"I was just about to ask, mate," Ron joined as he raised his mug of beer to his lips and swallowed thickly. He wiped the foam from his lip with the back of his hand. Hermione, who sat beside Ron, narrowed her eyes on him.

Harry chugged the content of his glass. He swallowed the embers that threatened to escape and let it burn all the way down. He shook his head and then gestured for a refill. It came quickly.

For a moment, he felt as though they were back at Hogwarts. Where they would speak casually and laugh about anything. They spent most of the evening catching up. Ron shamed him for abandoning him with all his work, to which Harry offered a sarcastic apology. Hermione prattled on about her work with house elves as well as her research. While she rambled, Harry caught Ron's eye and both men shared a look 'here we go…'. They both men began to chuckle. She seemed unbothered as she sipped her glass of elderflower wine and continued her speech. Harry ordered five more glasses of firewhiskey while Ron ordered three more beers.

By the end of the night everything had become hilarious and the world spun dizzyingly. At one point, he'd tried to reach for his glass and wound up knocking it to the ground. For some reason, he found it incredibly entertaining and began cackling. Ron joined him with cheeks flushed and they high-fived. Of course, they missed each others hands by a short distance. Hermione shook her head.

Harry looked down at his watch. It was either midnight or half past six. He tried to turn his head to read the time correctly but the watch kept shifting and he wound up hitting his head on the table. This elicited another chuckle.

"I should get home." he laugh-moaned.

"Yeah, me too." Ron spoke with a groan. "Think you can apparate?"

Before he could sloppily nod, Hermione interjected. "Of course not, look at him." She was sure she gestured in his direction.

"That's offensive," He slurred and tried to lift his head with great effort.

"And besides, you can't apparate into Hogwarts." She continued, ignoring him.

Ron scratched his chin, "Floo?"

"He can barely speak, who knows where he'll land up if he does." She quickly rejected the idea.

"Hey," Harry slurred, his body seemed to sway and eyes drooped slightly. He pointed between the two of them. "S' everything alright with you two?" he grumbled and for a moment he imagined that they shared a glance. Ron stood up and tapped his shoulder roughly and helped him to his feet.

"Come on, we need to get you home."

Hermione stood as well and grabbed her bag. Harry dug into his wallet and lazily tossed whatever gold he fell in his hand, onto the table, probably worth far more than they had drunk.

But, regret was for a sober mind.

"Where're you-?"

"-He can crash at mine-" Ron threw Harry's arm over his shoulder and propped him up.

"Well- I thought you- you know-" Hermione stumbled over her words.

"It's fine, besides there's nothing we can do and I'm not letting him wander around like this." Ron said.

"I'm an adult," Harry reminded them though he was sure it didn't come out quite clearly as he had thought because they both gave him concerned looks.

"He can stay with me," Hermione said. Ron's shoulders seemed to relax.

"You sure?"

"Of course," she spoke "Just help me lug him home."

"I'm not a sack of potatoes," he slurred and then unironically dropped to the ground.

Harry's head landed on something soft, he curled into whatever it was and tightened his eyes. He could hear quiet whispers a small distance from him and then a click.

Soft footsteps carried towards him and then fabric rustled.

He was suddenly warm. The footsteps moved away from him and disappeared as his body lulled him to sleep.