Chapter 4.

"So Mr. Potter, why are you repeating the 7th year? Surely defeating the Dark Lord would give you enough credentials to gain a head start on your Aurora career."

Harry felt a little shame. The whole wizarding world were waiting for him to get into that fancy uniform, wear a badge and start getting the bad guys and saving the world but the past 12 months have changed his view on life and what he expects from it. Lost in thought, Harry hadn't noticed the dark and wounded man's gaze of questioning upon him.

"Well, uh, sir…I don't think that's what I want to do anymore. I've seen death and I could go the rest of my life not seeing it again."

While saying those heart-breaking words, death flashed before his eyes. Cedric, lying there on the ground, still as a statue. Dobby, becoming limp. The screams of his mother, begging to spare her beloved baby's life. Snape, gazing at Harry's eyes while seemingly on his death bed.

"Potter?"

Hedwig's truffled feathers, exploding in the sky like forbidden fireworks before Harry. Sirius's body, losing its colour right before his eyes and being out of reach.

"Potter?" A distant and stern voice coming from the outside was again being lost.

Albus Dumbledore, falling and falling and falling for what seems like for hours and the crashing sound of old fragile flesh hitting the ground can't be forgotten.

"Harry…"

When the world became its darkest for Harry, and ice replaced blood in his veins, it was only then he started feeling warmth. Warmth coming from his shoulder rapidly spread to his body. His torso felt it the most. A hard and warm figure was holding him, Harry felt one hand on his back, rubbing in circles while the other held the back of his head. Breathing started coming back to the boy and without noticing his eyes were close, he softly opened them. Harry welcomed back the light to his numb self. His glasses are no longer on his face and feeling an all too familiar wetness on his cheeks. Harry realised what had happened.

"I know Harry, I know…Shh…"

Harry had experienced another daydream of nightmares also known as an episode of post traumatic stress. Harry calls these "getting lost".

"I…I can't…"

The soft sobs of a 17 year old can only be heard by the man holding him together.

"I can't do it sir…"

Harry felt weak, pathetic. His father James Potter could do this. James was brave and strong. He could handle almost anything, and his greatest battle had been one that he had lost to, dying as a hero. He wouldn't cry.

"I'm not brave enough."

Those heart breaking, almost forbidden words coming from not just any Gryffindor but the saviour of the world shot through Snape's chest like an arrow. What the hell had happened while he was gone? One minute this boy is the perfect representation of Gryffindor and now, now he wails and wallows like a cursed Slytherin.

"My mum, my dad…I've let them down."

Snape felt his fingers grip onto the boy. Harry's mother…Lily.

Would Lily Evans be ashamed of her boy right now? No, never. What would she do right now? What would his old best friend do for her boy right now if she were here?

Snape, feeling a powerful…something…take over, loosened his grip on the boy but never truly letting go. Moving his hands from back and head to his ears, holding the poor soul. His large thumbs, gently brushing his cheeks while the remaining fingers are lost in the boy's hair, Snape looked into Harry's eyes, saw a boy breaking before him and did what any parent would have at that point. He leaned forward and pressed his lips on the forehead of the boy in front of him, in attempt to comfort him.

"It's okay Harry, it's all over now." Snape soothed. "You only need to be Harry now, no more saving lives and no more sacrificing. Just be Harry now okay?"

When Madam Pomfrey told him this in therapy, he accepted it like receiving socks from the Dursleys, but hearing it from this man felt like he had just been taught how to let go rather than just being told to let go, like receiving socks as a trapped house elf.

Harry felt his memories fading more and more as the warmth on his forehead made his problems melt away. Right now, it was no longer darkness and death. It was him, just Harry and this complicated man, holding him and showing him with minimal words how to let go and let the warmth in. Harry felt with every tear leaving his eyes was another memory of death leaving, being let go. Snape saw the all too familiar glowing tears fall from the teens eyes and held him through it.

"It's okay Harry, it's okay."