A/N: please dan't kill me i'm sorry that i only have this chapter completed after months of not updating give me grace and love thank you

In other words, I'm baccckkkkk! For a short time only, for all of you folks wondering when you can buy a ticket to my wonderful show of randomness. As a peace offering for any and all angry mobs, I present to you the next chapter! And to tell you that I have no idea when the next chapter is coming!

I know It's been forever and a half, so I've constructed a short list of what has happened in the story so far!

THE SHORT LIST OF WHAT HAS HAPPENED SO FAR

-It has been revealed that Harry was Loke's first owner, who raised him from childhood

-Harry is thought to be killed when Hogwarts was attacked

-Loke has been dreaming/daydreaming about Harry for the longest time now, and it is starting to impact his life in a detrimental way

-Lucy and Mira are sending Loke to therapy because of his recent absent-mindedness

-Draco's grandson, Leo, works at a psychiatrist's office

-There are no pairings aside from a temporary Mavis/Harry which will dissolve soon

Disclaimer: Harry owns Loke. I am not Harry.

0-0-0-0-0

Loke sat down on a simple bench in the middle of a simple park in the middle of a simple little town with a simple little name. Despite the simplicity that he knew the title of the park and the name of the town carried, he could not remember their names. He wanted to call all of them Harry. Harry Park, Harry Town, Harry everything.

He inhaled and exhaled. Slowly, Loke reminded himself as pink rimmed his line of sight, there's no danger, no Harry.

A line of flowers swayed in the breeze, as if nodding to his definite conclusion. There was no Harry, and Loke knew that well. He had no idea why his mind insisted otherwise, or why it was so vehement about the deceased mage.

"Hey Loke, are you okay?" Lucy slid next to him. He hadn't even noticed her trademarked honey-flower scent, or her heavy footsteps. "You've been strange for the last little w-"

"I know that," Loke whispered, looking away from his current owner. His hands fought with one another as he fidgeted and tried to trace the wooden grain of the bench. He'd never had so much inclination to observe a park bench in the past; to see if the wood was a painted green or just a hastily made bench of rough planks. This bench was a mix of both; an old thing that was painted neon green but let slivers of light colored wood snag the unsuspecting bench-sitter.

"Do you?" A slender hand draped itself over Loke's shoulder. He ignored it and went back to staring at the bench.

"Yeah," Loke mumbled. He felt like a little kid, being questioned by some higher authority about a bully or a fight he may have witnessed in the hallways. He considered it some sort of odd blessing that he had to never step into a conventional school, only the ancient hallways of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts wasn't a bad place to experience school, even if Loke only got a glimpse at a year inside of Hogwarts. The teachers were as passionate as one could get out. Professor Longbottom was always showing his students unconventional ways to use plants native to the Muggle world as he smiled at his ensemble of students, Mrs. Granger was prepared to answer any question that was fired her way in all four of the classes she taught, Mr. Weasley was always stumbling into the back of the Practical Defense class with a large stack of books balanced in his arm, and Harry, well, even though Harry was the Dark Arts Professor for only one year, the scores of all in his class had improved by at least fifty percent.

"I know I've told you this before, but it seems like we need to have this conversation again. Do you think I want to spend money sending a celestial being to therapy? No! It's expensive, Loke, and you're doing nothing to shoulder the cost. It's taxing everyone at this point! You know that Fairy Tail is still trying to get off the ground again, and now you're pulling this off? That money could be going towards the funds, but noooo, it has to go to you and your stupid little sessions. I thought that you were reliable and that after everything that you could hold your own."

"You obviously can't anymore, and that's what hurts me the most. My own spirit is turning against me." Loke's head shot upwards. A splinter forced itself into his finger, causing his to yelp as he stared at Lucy. "You're the lion. Courageous, ready to help, unflinching, but you're just so…. I don't have words for it…"

Loke flinched as Lucy returned his gaze. Her eyes were broken, the start of tears collecting in the lower corners of her eyes.

"I don't mean to," Loke mumbled. "It's just that-"

"That what?" Lucy yelled at him as she slapped his face. "That you're a jerk stuck someplace where no one can help you?"

Loke broke his eyes away and stared at the ground.

"Yes you are," Lucy mumbled. "You know what? I don't want to deal with this anymore," she said as she reached down to her belt, fiddling with her key ring for a certain key. Loke knew it well; he could feel her fingers brush over it as if it was his own skin, could feel her fingernails digging into its hard metal as she yanked it loose. "Here you go."

Loke caught his key with ease as Lucy flung it towards him. He would have let it sail, if its path of flight was not towards his glasses. Those glasses were the only thing Loke had to remember of Harry, and he wished not to lose them to one of Lucy's outbursts.

But was this really an outburst? Loke knew he had it coming to him. He hadn't handled his memories in any way that could be considered healthy. They had been allowed to run rampant, and he had refused to let others try to rein them back. Now this was happening.

"I didn't-"

"I hate you," Lucy cut him off with a hiss. "Stop trying to make excuses."

Loke's mouth had hardly opened before Lucy stomped off, quickly disappearing into the bustling streets of Magnolia.

It was all happening too fast.

There was no particular thing that was happening in a particularly fast manner, for life is a jumble of different things. It was just that…

"Loke? Are you okay? You know, nightmares aren't anything to be scared of," Harry said as he lightly massaged Loke's back.

"But they feel so… scary," Loke argued, hunching up into a small ball. Harry tisked at Loke's instant withdrawal from his hands. With a small whine, Loke turned to the side, separating his shoulder from Harry's ministrations. "And real."

"It isn't like it's real life though."

Loke didn't even know anymore. It was real life; he wanted to yell at that Harry from years ago. The past was bleeding into the present for Loke, and the spirit was suffering because of it.

Lucy had even said so herself, more times than Loke could count. Was it really worth it then? Trying to keep the memory of Harry alive without going insane in the process?

"No," Loke muttered to himself. "Not at all."