Colin was scared.

He remembered the first time he'd seen Harry. He'd been star struck. And then after the war, when they became friends, built their relationship from the ground up, watched it grow romantic - back then he knew Harry, knew everything about him.

But people change when we're not looking, don't they. He sighed quietly to himself as he rubbed his sweaty hands on his robes. How had they ended up here? It seemed like yesterday that they'd decided to take the leap, that leap from friends into something else, something more...how had they ended up here?

He thought back, back to those early days. He'd been so nervous, so scared to lose his friend, to jump into the unknown, to risk it all. But it had been inevitable, Harry and him, and he'd known that for months before they gave voice to their feelings. He remembered their first date like it was only yesterday. It had been a cool summer evening with a light breeze...

He walked over to the tall sycamore under which Harry stood, his back pressed against the trunk in what people might have mistaken as an attempt to be alluring, but Colin knew was really simple exhaustion. That didn't stop him from looking, however. He was only human.

"How did the match go last night?" he asked when he had moved close enough to be heard.

Harry grinned at him in greeting. "It was almost midnight by the time I caught the snitch. Why Kingsley allowed an inter-department match in the middle of the week I'll never know. Half the Auror department showed up late and those of us who didn't were in no condition to properly file paperwork, much less do field work."

As Harry spoke he moved towards the pathway just beyond the long branches of the sycamore, and Colin followed. They'd walked this path many times in the last - Colin counted quickly in his head - three years, but each time was a whole new experience full of laughter and good conversation. But this was the first time that they were taking this walk in a whole new way. He was more nervous than perhaps he should be. Was this date a bad idea? Could a friendship be turned into a relationship, or was this venture doomed to fail and he'd lose his best friend?

They walked on in silence now, and Colin's thoughts become steadily more panicked: Why couldn't he think of anything to say? Why wasn't Harry saying anything? Why did it feel as though an unbreakable wall had sprung up between them? Hell, this had been a terrible idea. Why had he agreed to this when Harry had asked? What if -

Colin's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Harry's soft sigh. He looked over to see his companion shaking his head, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry I'm not more talkative. I haven't been sleeping well lately and last night's late match really did me in."

A wave of relief washed over Colin followed by a wave of shame. This wasn't all about him; it took two to tango, he reminded himself. "I'm sorry I'm less talkative than usual. I'm a little nervous," he confessed.

Harry glanced over at him and then took his hand in his own, squeezing in reassurance. "We don't have to figure everything out now," he pointed out. "This is just an opportunity for us to discover if we fit together romantically, or if we're better off as friends."

Another surge of relief flowed through Colin and he squeezed Harry's hand back, seeking the comfort it gave. "You'd still want to be my friend, even if this doesn't lead to something?"

"Of course," Harry said, surprise colouring his tone. "Wouldn't you?"

Colin thought for a moment, and he could almost feel the tension rolling off of Harry as he did so. "Yes," he said at last. "I couldn't promise that I could handle it, because I know how overwhelming emotions can be, but I know I'd want to try."

"That's fair," Harry acknowledged.

Conversation flowed easier after that, and Colin felt the twinges of hope curl in his stomach. Perhaps this really could work out.

The front door opened, and the sound pulled Colin away from the past. "Colin, love, I'm home."

Colin took a deep breath - how did we end up here - before heading down the stairs to greet his boyfriend. "How was your day?" He stood on his tiptoes just slightly to give Harry a kiss.

"There was a problem with transporting a prisoner after his trial. Some idiot forgot to use the proper handcuffs and he escaped. He's still on the run."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have any leads?"

"We know who he's most likely to run back to." Harry ran a hand through his dark hair, and he looked even more windswept afterwards. "I left a couple Aurors to search, and it's only a matter of time. But until he's caught I don't want you leaving the house, alright?"

"But what about work?" Colin said, teasing laughter in his voice. But Harry didn't seem to catch on to his tone.

"You can apparate from here to the building. There isn't any danger in that. Just don't go anywhere else until this whole thing is over with." Harry pulled Colin to him, his hands cupping Colin's face. "I don't want any harm to come to my love."

Colin kissed him, unsure how else to respond. When they broke apart he said, "Kreacher should have dinner ready."

Harry gave a grateful sigh. "I could use some of that French Onion Soup right about now."

"You're in luck, then." Colin laughed lightly.

It was during the dessert course that Harry shared more details about the escaped prisoner situation, with a somewhat long winded rant about security measures (or rather, the lack thereof). Colin listened only half-heartedly; he'd heard it all before. During a pause, he asked, "What was the crime he committed, anyway?"

"He stole items from one of the clothing stores in Diagon Alley," Harry said. "He stole some pants, among other things."

Colin chuckled. "You want me to stay at home because of some bloke who stole some pants?" As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them; he opened his mouth to apologize but found he couldn't speak as he watched Harry slowly get up and make his way towards him. He looked like a tiger stalking his prey, and Colin immediately tried to shrink away in his chair.

"Do you think," Harry said coldly, emphasizing each word with deadly precision, "that I'd tell you to stay home for just any old thief?"

"No," Colin said numbly. He knew that Harry wanted to hear him say it.

"That's right," Harry said, still speaking in the same tone. "He held the clerks at wand point. He used the Cruciatus Curse on one of them."

"I'm sorry," Colin said. He didn't know what he was apologizing for but knew it was the only thing it was safe to say. "I'm sorry," he whispered again.

Harry looked at him for a long moment then - "If you're sorry, then you're already forgiven, love." Harry kissed his forehead gently. Colin nearly moaned in relief but held his tongue for fear of setting Harry off again.

That night Colin waited until Harry fell asleep before he climbed out of bed and padded down to the sitting room. He needed to think. He walked over to the window and leaned his forehead against the glass. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't know what to do anymore. He was sure he knew what was wrong with Harry, but was also just as sure that Harry would not accept his thoughts nor accept treatment of any kind. He loved Harry.

But he had become afraid of him.

Colin had been raised to believe that in order to truly love someone, you must accept their faults. Love their faults, even; love everything that makes them who they are.

But this – this isn't what they had in mind, was it?

He couldn't ask them, of course. His parents have been gone for years now. He missed them terribly, but even more now than ever. What would they say, if he could tell them what has been happening, if he could ask them how to move forward, how to help Harry now.

Colin hadn't noticed at first. He supposed he should have paid more attention. But had he really wanted to see? Harry had told him he was hurting, that day on the bridge. And Colin had done what he knew how to do best. He'd loved patiently, gave Harry his space while he made it clear that he was here, right here, that he wasn't going anywhere. It was what he'd done for Draco, all those years ago. It had worked, back then. He thought it would be enough now, enough to help Harry.

But was he really helping Harry?

From where Colin stood, it didn't feel like it.

He'd been holding his breath, these last several weeks. Harry seemed to be slipping away, into a dark place Colin had no experience with. He was no stranger to the dark, he'd been down before, in the war, after the war, and all that hurt that Draco had left him with...

But this. Harry needed help. The depression. The anger. The outbursts. The moments of fear, unsure of reality...and that moment recently when Colin had found Harry rocking on the kitchen floor repeating words: Can't. Mustn't. Won't.

Colin had touched Harry's shoulder carefully, what's wrong? And he's not sure how it happened, but he'd found himself on the floor, a broken wrist from where Harry had grabbed and twisted, and then Harry was crying - I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean it you shouldn't have startled me I'm sorry...

The night air felt cool on his skin as Colin stepped outside onto the porch. Something about the dark had always made certain truths come to light, and so it was now. He could see where he was, what he should do. But knowing is different than acting. A wrist can be healed with the wave of a wand. A heart could only be healed with time. And sometimes not even then.

Colin knew he was in love with Harry, he felt it with every breath, every beat of his heart. He thought he might know what his Mum might have told him, if she were alive today. But she wasn't , and he is, and her advice may have been correct but - can't love conquer all? He had to try. He knew he'd regret it if he didn't try.

He was so not looking forward to the conversation he knew he had to have. But Harry loved him, he'd hear him out - right?

The owl that flew in through the open window while Colin finished cooking breakfast startled him so badly that the plate of bacon in his hands tipped over, and two things happened at once. "Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry's spell allowed the bacon, inexplicably still on the plate, to hang suspended sideways in midair. The owl, apparently more interested in food than its delivery, dropped the letter on the kitchen counter and instead grabbed as many bacon slices as it could before swooping back out the window. Colin looked after it before turning to look at Harry, who was still holding the now half-empty plate in midair. Harry looked back at him, blank shock in his face, before bursting into loud laughter.

Colin found himself laughing along as he watched Harry double up with mirth, his arms holding his sides. He moved to take the airborne bacon safely on the table before it fell again, unsure if Harry would be able to continue to concentrate on the spell.

"I've - never -seen an owl - do that before," Harry choked out at last, as he began to gain control of himself again.

"Terry recently got a new owl," Colin said by way of explanation. "And his kids have been teaching it to expect food in payment for delivery. Apparently re-training isn't working so well."

"Apparently so," Harry chortled as he helped himself to a plate of food. "What's Terry have to say?"

Colin scanned the words on the parchment. "Our early morning staff meeting was moved to tomorrow. He doesn't say why, just that I can come in to work at the regular time today instead."

"Does that mean I can ask for a reward for saving the plate of bacon?" Harry asked with a snicker.

Colin planted a kiss on Harry's lips. "After breakfast, love. The food will get cold."

"Are you a wizard or what," Harry grumbled, but he moved to fill a plate with food.

As they were washing up (by hand; Colin had never quite gotten out of the habit, even after he'd learned the proper magical spells), he broached the subject, his chest tight but voice steady. "Can we talk about something, Harry?"

He could feel Harry look at him, but Colin kept his eyes on the cup he was washing, and at last he heard Harry answer. "What's on your mind, love?"

Colin looked up at him. "I'm scared for you, Harry. I can see you're struggling. I know you're in a bad way right now." Harry's face had frozen in place. Colin felt nervous, but ploughed on. "Whatever you're going through - this affects me too. We're a team, you and I, remember? I'm trying to understand. But I'm hurting too, Harry. What can we do together to work our way through the pain you're struggling with?"

Harry frowned at him. "There's nothing you can do."

"Harry - "

"No." Harry cut him off. "Just - be patient with me, alright? I'll figure it out."

"You don't have to do this alone!" Colin cried out. "We can figure this out together. Maybe even with the help of someone else - "

"I don't need some mind healer to tell me what I already know!" Harry said, frustrated. "I'm a failure, I'm fucked up, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"There is - "

"There isn't!" Harry yelled. His hand lifted from the sink, a fork clutched in his fist. "I'll figure it out, okay?" He walked away.

"Harry!" Colin cried after him. Harry turned at the door. He was shaking, and Colin felt a wave of fear. "You. Can't. Help. Me." Harry gritted out. "Just let me figure it out, alright!"

"But..."

"But nothing!" Harry screamed at him. He threw the fork still in his hand with a roar. Colin flinched and ducked, but the prongs caught him sharply on his bare arm, and he yelped in both shock and pain. He looked down to see four identical angry red scratches where the utensil had made contact with his skin. When he looked back up, Harry was gone.

Well. That hadn't gone as planned.

Colin walked part of the way to work. His mind was numb. His heart was on fire. He knew what he needed to do. He couldn't do this alone, not anymore. He was in way over his head. Harry was in way over his head too. Even if he didn't know it.

The decision made, he owled Hermione as soon as he arrived at work. The return owl came just as he was deciding which picture to accompany an article about the latest Quidditch match (the Cannons were well into the season and had managed to lose more times than they had the previous year already). The reply was short, a quick see you then to his inquiry about meeting for lunch, and Colin felt his stomach swoop with nerves. The owl nipped at him; he fed her a treat absentmindedly.

Hermione didn't waste time. "What's wrong?" she said bluntly as she sat down, sweeping her curly hair out of her face. She fixed him with a look of concern. "I know we're friends, but you've never asked me to meet for lunch before. What's wrong?"

Colin looked away. "Remember when you asked me if Harry was okay?" He glanced at her in time to see her nod, her eyes assessing him, and looked down at his lap. "He's not okay."

"Colin." Hermione said. "What's wrong." And her voice was quiet, and he forced himself to meet her gaze.

"I think he's suffering from some sort of post traumatic trauma left over from the war," Colin admitted at last. "He won't talk about it much and doesn't seem to be receptive to help from anyone. I don't know what to do and I - I can't - it's wearing on me," he finished.

"How long as this been going on?"

"Awhile," Colin said, reluctant to admit that it's been months now. Years really, only he'd never noticed until things started to slide. But Hermione seemed to read it in his expression. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. "I knew he was hurting. I just - life got busy, you know? It's not really an excuse. But I just figured I'd let him come to me when he was ready."

"I'm not sure he'll ever be ready," Colin responded quietly. "But he can't go on like this, Hermione. And I - I can't go on like this. I don't know what to do."

"I can try to talk to him again," she said. "Ron and I tried, awhile back, but I think we caught him in a bad mood or something. He got angry. Brushed us off. The thing is, Colin...if he doesn't want help, there's not much we can do to force him to see that he needs it."

"I know," Colin said. "But I've been trying anyway. I love him." And he could feel tears sting at his eyes. He looked away.

"Oh Colin," Hermione said. "The hardest thing to do is to watch someone you love struggle. How are you holding up?"

"I'm - struggling," he said. "But I'll be okay. I think maybe - it helps to know that I'm not alone in this. I've felt alone."

"You're not alone," Hermione said fiercely. "We'll all make it through. Even Harry."

"Somehow," Colin said. "Somehow yes. We will."

The rest of the day Colin felt - not better, perhaps - but hopeful. Hermione was the smartest witch he knew. Together they would find a way to help Harry. Of course, he should have known better.

"What did you do," Harry threw at him the second Colin walked through the doors of Grimmauld Place that evening. He felt his stomach drop. "What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," Harry snarled. "Hermione came to see me today. Seemed to have the impression that I'm some helpless maiden in need of saving. Where do you suppose she got that idea, Colin? Just where do you suppose she got the idea - "

"Perhaps she got it from observing you," Colin shot back at him. "She's a smart one, Hermione. And you haven't exactly been subtle with your emotions have you - "

"Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare," Harry said, his chest heaving, his breathing shallow.

"What, Harry? Can't hear the truth?" Colin knew he was treading on thin ice, but all that pent up anger from months of this, months and months of this fear, made him feel reckless. "You're not handling whatever's going on with you well, and that's putting it mildly!"

"You don't understand!" Harry burst out.

"Then make me," Colin said, and he shook off the brief moment of déjà vu.

Harry was trembling. "I don't have to make you understand! You should already understand! You were there, you were there - "

"Where, Harry?" Colin asked. He forced his voice to sound calmer. "Where was I?"

But Harry shouted at him to "get down, get down!" and dropped to the floor, crouching behind the bench in the entryway. Colin looked around. No one else was in the room. He approached Harry, concerned. "Harry? Love?"

He kneeled beside Harry. "Are you okay?"

Harry screamed and launched himself at Colin. "Don't hurt them!" he yelled, and his fists pounded at Colin's back as Colin bent into himself, unable to do anything else in that moment. Harry moved around him, trying to force Colin to uncurl, and Colin saw his opportunity: he whipped Harry's legs out from under him and flattened him on his back, pinning Harry's arms and legs with his own grip, his own body weight. Harry struggled, but Colin had grown up with a brother, a brother who he tussled with numerous times as a child, and his body was familiar with this struggle. At last Harry stopped resisting and just looked at him defiantly, as though to dare him, to spur him on to - what exactly? Colin didn't know, but he felt something deep within him want to rise to the challenge, and he tightened his grip reflexively.

But he saw Harry start to blink rapidly, and then Harry was crying, and Colin's adrenaline rushed away, leaving him drained, and so tired. And then he was crying too, and his arms let go of Harry's wrists and instead wrapped around him, holding him in comfort, but he wasn't sure if he was comforting Harry, or trying to comfort himself, and the sound of their joined tears filled the air, and Colin had never felt so much pain before, so much bewildered pain.

Help me. Help me. Help. Harry whispered in his ear, and Colin's lips formed the same words but no sound came out. He pulled Harry closer and let their emotions fill every corner of the room until he could no longer hear anything else, no longer see anything else, no longer feel anything else. It was just him and Harry, against everything that had ever caused them pain, against a cruel world that didn't care who got in its way as it pushed relentlessly forward.

But as their sobs waned, Colin knew one truth: We can't go on this way. I can't go on this way.