A/N: This third and final installment is Severus' side as he helps Harry through the depression.

You will see quite the shift in writing quality between the first two parts and this one. The first two were written ten years ago and this one now in the last couple of days. My writing has greatly changed and improved over the last ten years.

Also, to anyone who read this story ten years ago and waited for this part then, I'm sorry I never gave it, that it took ten years. If you read it then and came back for this now, I cannot express my appreciation for you. For all the new readers, I appreciate you as well and I hope you all enjoyed this story. I hope this story gives something to each and every one of you as it did to me.

Please, if you enjoyed it, consider leaving a review and consider recommending it to someone you think it could help. Depression and self-harm are serious issues and affect everyone involved. If you or someone you know struggles with these things, know that you are not alone and you can always find someone that can help and understand. And know, it can always get better.

Thank you.


The Help

July 1998

Severus sat stiffly in the hard, metal chair, ignoring the chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles. He listened with a blank face and only half an ear as his charges were read out, murmurs running through the Wizengamot members with each one. He recognized some of the faces above him, but he didn't care to remember who they were. He knew how this would end and just wanted to get it over with.

"Before we take our vote, we will hear from Mr. Harry Potter."

Severus' full focus returned to the courtroom then, eyes darting around to find the boy. When he did, when he watched Potter walk up to the speaker's stand to his right, his eyebrows knitted together.

This was Potter? The brash, troublesome Gryffindor that had saved them all? He hardly recognized the boy. It seemed putting himself together for this trial had been a struggle for Potter. His black hair was more fly-away than it ever had been before, his robes were wrinkled and seemed to hang off his frame, and he was paler than Severus had ever seen him. His cheeks were sunken, small tremours seemed to run through his body every few seconds, if it weren't for the robes, Severus was certain he would be able to see bone through the skin, dark circles sat under his eyes, and his eyes…where had the bright green and life gone? These were dull, dark, distant…dare he say it, dead.

He didn't hear a thing the boy said. Well, he wasn't really a boy, not anymore, not after what he'd been through and had to do. He was certainly a young man, though it was hard to make even that assertion given that he hardly even looked human.

As Potter spoke, Severus stared. He couldn't look away from what remained of Potter, of the boy that had once fought him so passionately, that had once been so lively despite the terrors that haunted him. It seemed none of that remained, leaving Potter with just the haunts.

Though he didn't hear what Potter said, he still heard the voice. It was nothing like the Potter he'd known. This Potter's voice was quiet, difficult to hear. It was monotonous, dull…dead like his eyes. It was distant, faraway as though it were someone else speaking for Potter and he was just trying to match what they were saying. There was no emotion, no connection, no awareness. Potter was saying what he needed to, getting out just enough to make his point without having to actually search for words or think of what to say next.

Listening to Potter was enthralling in the most horrible of ways.

It was only when it suddenly fell silent that Severus realized Potter's quiet voice had been echoing in the courtroom. The silence wasn't nearly as heavy as Potter's voice had been.

Severus was still too focused on Potter to notice that the Wizengamot spoke amongst themselves and took a vote, a vote that cleared him. He noticed when the chains released him, but only to the extent that he was able to stand, desperate to watch Potter as the young man fled the courtroom. He'd hoped to get even a look from Potter, perhaps a word, but all he got was the young man's back. He stared at the robed back and bowed head until it was gone, leaving him behind with still murmuring Wizengamot members amongst an otherwise empty silence.

With an emptiness in his own chest, Severus walked from the courtroom without a look at the Wizengamot. With a pain in his heart, he stepped outside the Ministry, wishing Potter was there.

"Goodbye, Mr. Potter," he muttered into the air.

With a pit in his stomach, he Apparated away to Spinner's End to begin his free, yet empty life.

September 1998

Severus stared into the dark corner of his small bedroom, sat in a musty, tattered armchair with a nearly melted candle flickering beside him. It was the only light in the room, the drapes pulled over the window to block out the daylight, what little there was of it given the cloudiness of the day and it being near evening. The dark seemed to suit his perpetual internal emotions. He didn't feel much of anything anymore, not the way he'd thought he would. He thought his life would open up with the war over, but, instead, he was alone in Spinner's End with absolutely no thoughts of a future and the emotions to match. It was like nothing had changed. The only difference was there was no mad wizard torturing him; otherwise, his life had remained the same.

He turned his head to look blankly at the candle, its light dimming as more and more of the candle melted away into the pool below. As he watched it, he couldn't help but feel like the candle, slowly burning away to nothing and growing dimmer with each drop of wax.

As he was watching a bead of wax slide down the little that remained of the candle, he heard the fireplace in the sitting room flare. He looked up with a frown. There was no one to call him. He'd seen and spoken to no one in the last two months since his trial. He'd hidden himself away in the shadow of Spinner's End and the world had let him.

He left his bedroom and walked down the short hall, turning left into the sitting room. His fireplace was burning green, but there was no face in the coals. He crouched down, wincing absently at the cracking of his knees.

"Yes?" he said.

"Snape," a quiet, yet well-known voice choked out and he blinked in surprise.

"Potter?" A hint of annoyance rose up in him. What right did Potter have to disturb his despair after leaving his trial without a word or even a look. "Why on earth are you calling me?"

There wasn't an answer immediately, making his annoyance grow. He shoved his head into the fire so he could at least see Potter while he shouted, only to remain silent himself upon what he found. Potter was collapsed on the floor in front of the fire and tears visibly running down his still far too thin face. Then, the young man held up an arm and Severus' eyes grew wide at the dark red blood flowing freely down the arm, dripping off the elbow.

"I need help," Potter whispered.

The fog Severus had been existing in seemed to lift, then, and he instantly moved. He stepped through the fire, exiting into the Weasleys' sitting room. Potter had moved aside just enough to avoid being stepped on, but was still sat on the floor, arms sitting uselessly and bloody in his lap as he cried silently. Severus crouched next to him, silently summoning a few small towels. He spread one under Potter's arms across his lap and, using his wand, he gently washed away as much of the blood as possible before wrapping both arms with the other towels. He cleaned the small puddles of blood that had ended up on the floor and took the knife that had been dropped, erasing the evidence of what had happened. Turning to the nearby coffee table, he quickly wrote a short note on a spare piece of parchment he found, explaining Potter had gone to Grimmauld Place for the evening as he was considering beginning to renovate it.

Then, he helped Potter to his feet, pulling the young man to his side, and brought them through the Floo to Spinner's End. He guided Potter down the hall and into his bedroom, silently encouraging the Gryffindor to lay down. He sat on the edge of the bed and summoned his own first aid materials and potions, settling them on the rickety side table. He carefully unwrapped one of the towels to get a better look at the obviously self-inflicted injuries. Four long, deep cuts parallel to each other, wrapping around the wrist. Blood was still steadily leaving them, falling onto the towel still underneath the arm.

He pulled his wand and ran it along each cut, watching them close to a superficial level. It was still very clear what they were and could open at any time. They would scar and he frowned at the idea of Potter having yet more scars. He grabbed a jar of dittany and Murtlap paste, rubbing it into each wound to help with the pain as they healed before repeating the process with the other arm. Once he treated, he grabbed the roll of white bandages from the table and carefully wrapped them around the young man's wrists, securing them with white tape.

"I killed them all."

Severus looked up at Potter, the Gryffindor having not said a thing during the entire process. He was staring at the ceiling, tears still leaking steadily from the corner of his eyes. Staring at the young man, Severus could see that Potter looked even worse than he had at the Ministry two months earlier. He was gaunt now and looked as though he were just praying for death.

Severus frowned to himself at the familiar feeling. Unwilling to explore his own despair, he focused on Potter's.

"Maybe you did or maybe they would have died even if they had never even known of your existence," Severus said quietly, slowly cleaning up his supplies. "Suppose we'll just never know."

"They fought for me. They died for me."

I was supposed to die for you.

"They fought for our world, like you. They died to protect our world, like you," Severus countered gently, looking at the man that refused to look away from the ceiling. This was the man that had died for all of them, yet, apparently, the world hadn't considered just what that would do to Potter. He was guilty of it as well, having never considered the toll it would all take on the boy, for that's all he had been before…a boy.

"But I came back," Potter said, his voice broken.

"We do not all get that choice," Severus said, almost in a whisper. So many had died, yet, somehow, he had lived, likely the least deserving of all of them.

"We should," Potter whispered, a single tear running down his cheek as he closed his eyes.

Severus sighed. "Perhaps."

October 1998

"There is dirt in these," Severus said, cleaning out the new cuts and gently wiping away the blood covering the rest of the arms.

"I had to do it outside," Potter said quietly and Severus glanced at him, taking in how the man was curled up in the small wingback just as Severus had found him.

Severus sighed, winding the bandages around the thin arm. "Perhaps you should stay here at Grimmauld Place. The Weasleys will no longer pose a risk and I can easily get to you."

It had only been a month since that first call from Potter, but they had been common since, at least three times a week, always after Potter was mutilated and bloody and sobbing. It seemed the mere idea of calling for help never occurred to Potter until well after the act. This time, Potter had done a brief call through the Floo only to close it before Severus could even find out where he was calling from. The panic of not knowing where Potter was, but knowing he was injured and bleeding and hurting had been overwhelming. It was only his luck that Potter truly had few places he could have been.

He didn't know if he was helping the young man or not. To him, it seemed Potter was getting worse given he was cutting so often and not calling for help. Yet, Potter did keep calling, so, perhaps he was providing Potter with something.

"I'm bothering you," Potter said and Severus glanced at him again, seeing the furrowed eyebrows.

"No, you are not," Severus said, "but, if I am to help you, I have to be able to find you."

"You can't help me," Potter said, sounding defeated.

Severus frowned, finishing the bandaging and watching Potter tuck his arms against his chest. "Should I leave?"

Potter's dull green eyes flickered to him and how he wished they would sparkle like they used to, whether with happiness or rage, he didn't care. He just hated seeing them this way.

"No," Potter breathed. "I don't want to die alone."

"You are not going to die," Severus said. "Not this time."

"You can't help me," Potter repeated.

"I can until you give up," Severus said and Potter just stared at him blankly, obviously thinking he had already given up, but Severus knew better. Potter may be a shell, but shells could be filled.

November 1998

Severus walked into the bedroom with the tray, sliding it onto the side table and sitting in the chair that was permanently next to the bed at this point. Harry was curled into a tight ball under the threadbare blanket, back to Severus. It was how he always found Harry when he came into the bedroom. It was also the only place he could find Harry. Ever since the man had moved into Grimmauld Place, he'd given one bedroom a base level of cleaning and resided in it since. Nothing Severus did could make Harry leave the bed, let alone the room.

He reached out and put his palm lightly on the spiny back, hating that he could feel each bone even through the thick jumper. Harry shifted and rolled over, gazing up at Severus with disinterested eyes.

"Lunch time," Severus said, gesturing to the tray.

"I'm not hungry," Harry said, making a move to roll back over.

"You must eat," Severus said, trying not to show his concern over just how thin Harry was becoming.

"I can't," Harry whispered.

"There is something I would like to discuss with you, but I need you to try and eat something," Severus said.

Harry sighed and carefully pushed himself up to sit, leaning against his pillows and the headboard. It didn't escape Severus' notice that Harry quickly pulled his sleeve down when it rolled up just slightly and revealed the edge of the bandages there. Even Severus, the one who had put the bandages there, was not allowed to see them in Harry's shame. Severus set the tray onto Harry's lap, holding it until he was sure Harry had it balanced, and then sat back in his chair, crossing his legs and watching the man pick at the miniscule meal.

"I have been thinking that we should do some more cleaning around here," Severus said as Harry broke off a tiny piece of the Yorkshire pudding and chewed it slowly.

"I'm fine with how it is," Harry said monotonously.

"Perhaps you are, but I would prefer to have a clean bedroom," Severus said and Harry looked at him with a frown.

"Bedroom?" Harry repeated.

Severus inclined his head. "I would much rather a bedroom than the sitting room."

Harry's frown deepened. "I don't understand."

"I am suggesting I move in," Severus said and Harry's eyes widened.

"But…what about your home?" Harry asked.

"Sold," Severus said, "and it was not much of a home."

"But…your life," Harry said. "You can't give it all up because of me. Too many people have already done that." His gaze dropped to his lunch.

Severus sighed. "There is little to give up. I must be here for you."

Harry shook his head. "No. No, you can't."

"I already have."

"No!" Harry yelled and pushed the tray off his lap, sending it and the food clattering across the floor. "No, you have to live! You have to live!"

Severus calmly moved to the edge of the bed and pulled Harry's hands from where they were ripping at his hair, the last resort to hurt himself when he couldn't cut. He held Harry's hands and pulled the young man against him in a hug, ignoring the way Harry weakly hit his sides in a pitiful effort to be released.

"You have to live," Harry sobbed into his chest.

"So do you," Severus said, holding Harry tight and resting his cheek on the man's head as Harry just cried.

December 1998
New Year's Eve

Severus was in the library, staring at the grandfather clock as it approached midnight. Ten minutes and a new year would begin. All that had happened that year would be left behind or so it was supposed to be. That's how new years were meant to work. Yet, for those few left, the year would never be forgotten. It had broken them, broken the world in a way that may never be fixed. The changing of a number in the year didn't take that away, didn't bring about the healing they all so desperately needed.

It was a nice thought, though, that a piece of metal or plastic touching the number twelve could bring about such extraordinary change.

He sipped his wine and watched the hand move one minute closer, indulging for a moment in the idea that, perhaps, once that stick touched twelve, everything would be better. He took another sip only to drop the glass carelessly on a nearby table when he heard a glass shatter from Harry's room. He hurried out of the library and down the hall to Harry's room, pushing open the door he'd charmed so it could never be locked. It was allowed to close, though; Harry still deserved privacy.

Inside, he found Harry sobbing as he used a chunk of glass to slice into his arm, blood pouring out and onto the bed beneath him. He'd already managed to make five long, deep cuts and was working on the sixth when Severus rushed over. This wasn't new or unexpected for the time. It had been a rough week with Christmas and now New Years', severe cuttings occurring every day as well as screaming fits whenever Severus tried to help or stay close. Each time, Severus had conceded and left, but only to the library so he could still hear anything that happened in Harry's room.

"I'm sorry," Harry sobbed as Severus carefully pried the piece of glass from Harry's bloody fingers. "I'm sorry."

Severus hushed him gently, cleaning away the blood and healing the cuts. He opened the drawer on the side table to retrieve the bandages he kept there.

"I…I don't want there to be a new year," Harry choked out. "I…I can't leave them behind. I can't be the one that goes on."

"You are not leaving them behind," Severus said softly. "You carry them with you every minute of every day."

"But they should be here," Harry said, squeezing his eyes shut as he cried. "They should be here. They should get this, not me. I can't go, I can't do it."

"Yes, they should be here, but they are not," Severus said. "You can do it, you can face the new year because they would want you to."

Harry shook his head, tears running in rivers down his cheeks. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

"You're not alone," Severus said.

"I want to be with them," Harry said, opening his watery eyes that gazed at him with sheer pain, making Severus' heart ache.

"I know," Severus said, holding Harry's hands, "but you can't, not yet."

Harry whimpered, trembling as he cried and clutched Severus' hands.

"Come, settle over here for a little while," Severus said, gently pulling on Harry's hands to pull him from the bed and over to the small armchair they had settled in the corner. "I must change your bedding."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

"Do not apologize," Severus said. "Just rest. It's just another day, as is tomorrow."

Harry curled into the chair, and Severus turned to remove the bloody blanket and sheets from the bed.

March 1999

"Why do you keep helping me?"

Severus looked up from his book, a random pull from Grimmauld's library, at Harry's quiet question. He'd thought the man asleep after a sleepless night filled with nightmares and desperate attempts to find something, anything to carve himself with. Severus wasn't completely sure what had brought on such a night—not that there always had to be a reason, some days or nights were simply just bad—but he had a feeling it was due to March first being Ronald Weasley's birthday. Harry had received an invitation to attend the small celebration happening at the Burrow, but he'd declined, instead remaining buried under his new blanket—courtesy of Severus—for the entire day instead.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?" Severus asked, closing his book on his finger as he looked at Harry just gazing blankly at the ceiling.

"If you just let me die, you wouldn't be trapped here," Harry said. "You've been stuck with me for too long."

"I was unaware I was trapped here," Severus said lightly.

"Aren't you?" Harry said. "You're supposed to be free, yet you're stuck with me just like you were with them."

"I am freer now than before you asked for my help," Severus said and Harry turned his head on his pillow to look at him. "I am not 'stuck with you' because I have always chosen to help you. I will always help you."

"Why?"

"Because I never got help myself."

Harry's eyebrows pulled together.

"Do you enjoy music?" Severus asked and Harry's frown deepened. "Perhaps we should get a record player. Music can do wonders for the soul."

Harry's head rolled so he was gazing back up at the ceiling. "I'm not sure how much soul is left."

Severus opened his book and continued reading. "Far more than you think."

May 1999

Severus grabbed the throw blanket from the sofa and walked back to the kitchen where he'd left Harry. The young man had crossed his arms on the table and dropped his head on them, staring at nothing as he likely ran over every single detail from this day one year ago. It had been a hard day for the man and he was sure it was going to be an even harder night. He hoped to take advantage of having Harry actually out of bed and downstairs to give them both at least a few minutes of peace before the horrors of the night took them again.

"Come on," Severus said, and Harry rolled his head so his chin was on his arms and he was able to see Severus.

"I just want to go to bed," Harry said.

"I know, but just a few more minutes," Severus said, both of them ignoring the fact that Harry always wanted to go to bed.

Harry sighed and pushed himself up, the simple action seeming to take any energy he had left. He rounded the table, accepting Severus' hand on his back that guided him down the hall and to the back door that led to the magical yard that shouldn't exist behind a London townhouse. It was dark, well past sunset. Severus stepped them onto the grass just far enough that they could look up into the charmed sky where they could see all the stars and the half-moon.

"What are we doing out here?" Harry asked.

Even though it was May, not at all cold, and Harry was in a heavy jumper, Severus still opened the blanket he'd brought and draped it over Harry's shoulders. The young man was easily chilled due to his malnourishment.

"We are doing something different," Severus said, wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulders and pulling him close as the young man held the blanket closed around himself. "We are relaxing."

"I can relax in bed," Harry argued.

"I think we can agree that there are very few places in which you truly relax," Severus said.

"I try," Harry said quietly, sounding ashamed.

"I know you do." Severus tugged him closer. "Look up at the stars," he whispered, doing so as Harry did.

They stood in silence, just gazing up at the sparkling stars.

"I used to love being outside," Harry said and Severus gave the slightest of upturned lips above him when he felt Harry lean back against him a little heavier.

"Perhaps it is something we can endeavour to do more," Severus said, glad for the insight into things to try and get Harry interested in again.

Harry just shrugged in his arms.

"What do you see?" Severus asked quietly.

"Everyone that's gone," Harry said and Severus leaned his cheek against the crown of Harry's head. "One year later."

November 1999

"Severus."

Severus looked up from where he was stoking the fire and sighed at the sight. Harry was standing in the library doorway, face covered in tears and arms covered in blood. He gestured for Harry to sit on the sofa and summoned everything he needed.

"There's something wrong with me," Harry said brokenly.

"No, there's not," Severus said, having repeated the sentiment dozens of times in the last year. "You are ill."

"Not this," Harry said, shaking his head.

Severus glanced at him curiously as he healed the cuts, leaving behind three more scars to be added to the dozens already there.

"Ginny," Harry said, dropping his head and Severus sighed, cursing the girl in his head. Harry had taken several steps backwards in terms of his cutting severity in the last few days since going to the Burrow where he'd finally told the Weasley girl they wouldn't be getting back together.

"There is nothing wrong with changing your mind," Severus said. "You've grown up. We change as we grow."

"I'm wrong," Harry repeated.

Severus finished bandaging and looked at Harry. "Why do you think you are wrong?"

"I…I think I'm…" Harry trailed off, his face twisting in apparent pain. "I'm…gay," he finished in a hush.

"And?" Severus said, raising an eyebrow when Harry looked at him, aghast.

"It…it's wrong!" Harry said. "It's…abnormal."

"Are you suggesting there is something wrong with me?" Severus said and Harry stared at him, puzzling out what Severus meant.

"You…you're…"

Severus nodded.

Harry dropped his eyes to his bandages, clearly conflicted.

"Harry," Severus said and Harry looked at him again. "You are who you are, and who you are is who you are meant to be. There is not a single thing wrong with you."

Harry chewed his lip and nodded, but Severus could tell he wasn't convinced. He just sighed as Harry laid on the sofa and draped the throw blanket over him.

December 1999
Christmas

Severus' forehead was crinkled as he sat on the bed and took in what currently existed of Harry Potter. He was thin and pale and fragile and broken. It was hard to imagine this was the Harry Potter he'd dealt with for six years and had confronted him so ferociously in the Great Hall upon the eve of battle. Yet, he did see that Harry Potter deep inside; he did exist, but was hidden. He'd seen a little bit on the one-year anniversary when they'd star-gazed. He saw a little bit sometimes when he spoke of random things to the young man. He saw a little bit when he put on a record to play soft, quiet music throughout the house.

However, he also saw that little bit get buried deeper and deeper with every setback, such as today. A disastrous Christmas, to say the least, and he cursed Ronald Weasley. Arriving home, Harry had torn away from him in a pained, desperate haze and run into the kitchen where he grabbed the first blade he found and dug it into his wrist. It was hardly a cut and more of a thoughtless gouge, pain needing to be inflicted in the quickest way possible. He'd gotten the knife away and pulled Harry to him, holding tight until the young man collapsed against him. Unconscious, he'd carried Harry up to his bedroom and treated him.

The progress was small, but Severus did see it. More hours could pass before Harry cut. More triggers were needed for a full breakdown. He no longer confined himself to his bedroom, though he still remained indoors. Severus was sure now, however, that Harry would likely not leave Grimmauld Place anytime soon.

Severus sighed and reached out, brushing back Harry's lengthy hair. He needed a haircut. Despair filled the young face even in sleep and it pained Severus that Harry never escaped all that tormented him. Harry deserved so much more than he was giving himself. He lightly stroked Harry's cheek, taking the time while Harry was unaware to really observe in a way that had nothing to do with safety and healing. Though not at his best, Harry had a beauty about him that he knew the man didn't see. Harry was remarkable in all the ways he believed he was a failure and Severus quirked a small smile at the young man he was determined to heal.

Harry shifted then, finally waking, and Severus pulled his hand away, but remained on the bed. He waited as Harry blinked, looked around, and frowned. Hazy memory then, it appeared, though was not unexpected. Harry finally looked at him questioningly.

"How are you feeling?"

He knew the moment Harry remembered what had happened when the Gryffindor's face crumpled.

"He hates me," Harry muttered. "Why did you stop me?"

"I promised to help you until you gave up," Severus said.

"I do, I give up," Harry said brokenly. "I give up."

"I don't believe you do," Severus said and Harry began to cry quietly. "Tell me something."

Harry sniffed and looked at him through tears.

"What is something you miss the most, from before?" Severus asked and waited while Harry thought. He wasn't sure if he would receive an answer as Harry struggled to think of anything he used to enjoy as though he had been this despondent shell for his entire life. He gave Harry time, though, waiting patiently.

"Classes," Harry eventually said. "Potions."

Severus couldn't help the way his eyebrow jumped. "Potions," he repeated, stunned.

"I knew what to expect," Harry said quietly.

"And what was that?" Severus asked curiously.

"To be hated and fail," Harry said and Severus felt his heart sink. "There was no expectation there."

It wasn't quite what he had been hoping for, but perhaps he could still work with it.

"Would you like to watch me brew sometimes?" Severus offered.

Harry looked at him as though it were the most wonderful offer he'd ever received. "Can I?"

Severus gave a small smile, realizing this was the most positive emotion he'd seen in Harry all year. "Perhaps you could even help."

July 2000

"I told you, I'm not doing anything for my birthday," Harry said as Severus led him downstairs.

"I am aware and I have made no plans beyond the usual," Severus said.

"Then where are we going?" Harry asked, tugging on his jumper sleeves automatically.

"Nowhere, but we are adding something new to our days," Severus said, leading him down the hall to the back door.

"You just said you didn't plan anything for my birthday," Harry argued.

"This has nothing to do with your birthday," Severus said, beginning to pull on his shoes as Harry just watched. "This is for your health and happiness."

Harry snorted derisively, making Severus raise an eyebrow. Rolling his eyes, Harry pulled on his trainers. Once ready, Severus opened the door and gestured for Harry to precede him.

"Starting today, we are going to walk around the yard every day," Severus said.

Harry frowned at him. "Why?"

Severus tugged gently on his arm to make Harry begin walking beside him, keeping the pace casual and putting his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Because you are doing better, and could benefit from some exercise and fresh air," Severus said. "Because you told me that you once loved being outside. Because you are allowed to enjoy things."

Glancing sideways at Harry, he saw a frown cross the young man's face as his ill brain tried to dispute Severus' words. The fact that Harry did not argue, but just continued to walk alongside him spoke to the bit of progress Harry had made over the months. It was still the steepest uphill battle they could face, but there was at least a tiny part of Harry willing to consider that he deserved life and happiness, not pain. So, they continued their walk, making two leisurely laps of the yard that ended in Harry holding onto his arm and leaning against his side as they ambled back into the house.

For the first time in nearly two years, Severus could swear he felt a spark of peace and possibly even happiness in Harry.

November 2000

Severus frowned as he stepped into the house and felt another magic signature in the wards. Considering it was there indicated it wasn't a danger, but it was still odd that there was anyone else there. They hadn't had any visitors since February when Ronald had shown up, and he and Severus had fought.

"Harry?" he called, placing the bags he held on the floor. He hadn't been gone long. Harry should technically still be eating or asleep.

"Up here! The bathroom! Hurry!"

At the shouts, Severus dashed up the stairs and into the bathroom. He in the scene in seconds. Blood spattered the floor and was pooling on the floor beside the bathtub. Ronald was knelt on the floor beside the bathtub, hands grasping Harry's wrists. Harry was in the bathtub, head lolled backwards, one arm hanging over the edge of the tub and the other painting the inside red, and he was paler than Severus had ever seen him. Cursing, he hurried over and pulled his wand. He pulled Ronald's hand away from one of Harry's arms, finding three long, vertical cuts running the length of his forearm. It made his heart stutter. Harry had never cut this way before, always horizontally along the curve of his wrist. He pushed it aside for now and ran his wand along the cuts, watching them struggle to close. He repeated the process with Harry's other arm and then carefully pulled the young man out of the bathtub, laying him on the floor. He applied the dittany and Murtlap paste, wrapped the arms in bandages, and fed Harry a couple of potions.

He let out a quiet breath as he realized Harry was out of danger and grabbed a clean towel from nearby, wetting it with his wand. He carefully wiped away the blood from Harry, the floor, and himself before handing it to Ronald. He gave the boy a cursory look as he picked up Harry and brought him to his bedroom. As he settled Harry into his bed, he spotted the open photo album on the floor with a blanket and a broken glass. He realized then what had happened. The photo album had fallen open and Harry had seen the pictures of his friends. He sighed, turning his attention back to Harry, tucking the thick blankets around the young man.

"Wha—"

He turned to see Ronald in the doorway, eyes wide with fear. He sighed again. "Outside," he said and they stepped back into the hall, Harry's door closing behind them.

He took the time to talk to the young Weasley, explaining everything about what had led to that moment. Ronald seemed terrified. Eventually, he had calmed the boy enough to send him back home and he resettled himself at Harry's bedside. He didn't bother summoning a book or his potions journal, choosing to, instead, watch Harry sleep. This had been close, too close. Harry had been doing better, so it seemed, but now…

He didn't sleep, didn't even drift or doze. He just watched, needing to be sure Harry was still there, that he hadn't failed, that he still had a chance to give Harry life. It was well after the sun had risen and Severus was changing the bandages that Harry finally stirred and woke.

"I hope you realize you very nearly died this time," he said the moment Harry was awake enough to comprehend words. "What happened?" he asked when Harry didn't say anything.

There was still a long pause before he got a reply. "I saw them."

Severus nodded. "I saw the photo album on the floor." He saw the agony that crossed Harry's face. "You know it wasn't your fault. You did not kill any of them."

He wasn't surprised when he didn't get a response.

"Mr. Weasley decided to pay a visit," Severus said and watched Harry turn completely white. "He was the one to find you."

He could see the panic as it took over Harry's mind and body. The man began to tremble, his eyes were wide and filling with tears, and his fingers were spasming on his arms. It took him a moment to realize that Harry was actually trying to dig at his injured arms.

"Harry. Harry, stop," he said, reaching out to grab Harry's hands tightly, preventing him from harming himself further. Harry stared at their joined hands as though he didn't understand what was happening. "This is not a bad thing. He has not told anyone and he will not. He wishes to help you and wants you to get better."

"No one was supposed to know," Harry whispered, pained.

"I know," Severus said gently, sympathetically. He loosened his grip slightly. "There was always the possibility that someone would find out. Perhaps Mr. Weasley can help."

He sighed when Harry just shook his head, still staring at their joined hands. Severus looked at them too. Harry had always accepted his touch over anyone else's over the last two years and it had always warmed something in him. He himself loved feeling the warmth of Harry, loved feeling the proof that Harry was still alive, that this young man he cared for so much still had a chance.

"I don't want him to see me," Harry said. "He's not supposed to know."

"But he does," Severus said firmly, not wanting Harry to indulge in more denial. "He will not come here if you don't wish him to, but he only wishes for you to get better."

"I can't see him," Harry said quietly and Severus could hear the fear, the shame. "I can't see him."

"That's fine," Severus said. "I'll tell him."

"I can't see him," Harry repeated desperately.

Severus squeezed his hands. "I'll tell him."

December 2000

Severus looked at the packages and envelopes sitting on the kitchen table, all presents for Harry that the young man was adamantly refusing to open. He understood. Harry had expressed a desire to completely ignore Christmas that year considering the disasters of the last couple. Harry had told him to burn any gifts that came, but he knew he wouldn't do that. Instead, he would put them away for when Harry was better. He did just that, glancing at the tags and names on each one before banishing them away to a room on the third floor that Harry never went near. It was when he spotted certain writing that he hesitated, eventually walking to the sitting room.

Harry was curled up sideways on the sofa, dressed in a usual heavy jumper and covered in a heavy, knit blanket. He stared blankly into the blazing fire. Severus saw Harry's eyes flicker to him and swore he saw a flash of that curiosity that had once made the green eyes sparkle. It was gone before he could really see it, though, so he couldn't be certain, but he was sure it had been there. He settled into an armchair.

"I'm not opening presents, even if it's just a letter," Harry reminded him.

"You do not have to open it or read it," Severus said. "Perhaps you would like me to read it to you?"

Harry looked at him again. "Why?"

"It is from Mr. Weasley," Severus said and Harry's eyes widened just slightly.

"Ron?" the young man said quietly.

Severus nodded, waiting for Harry's reaction. It had already been a better reaction than he'd expected.

"Alright," Harry said eventually and Severus watched him get more comfortable as he pulled out the letter. He cleared his throat.

"'Hey, Harry. I know it's been a while, well, a long time. I hope you read this, but if not that's okay. I'd understand you not wanting to hear from me. I'm sorry, Harry, about everything. I can't even believe I've acted the way I have, said the things I've said. I know I've always been difficult and sometimes a total prat, but I think this has gone far beyond anything else. I'm also sorry for not seeing how badly you were hurting, for not seeing that you were having a harder time of the final battle, of the war…of all of it. I'm sure Snape's told you that I found you that day in the bathtub. Don't be embarrassed or anything, please. I'm glad I know now. I haven't told anyone and I won't tell anyone, I promise. Just, listen to Snape and get better, yeah? I'll talk to you later, I hope. Bye. Ron'."

He folded the letter back up and placed it in his lap. He looked over at Harry silently, seeing Harry replay the letter's contents in his mind. It upset him to see Harry struggle to accept such words from his best friend. He watched as Harry let his head fall back against the back of the sofa, eyes drifting closed as though he was exhausted.

As Severus stared, he couldn't help but wonder. "Harry, may I ask you something?"

Harry looked at him again and nodded.

"Why did you call me that day? Why didn't you call one of your friends or one of the Weasleys? You could have even called someone at Hogwarts," Severus said, remembering how Harry hadn't even looked at him at the Ministry, yet had chosen him to call for help. "Why me?"

Harry's eyes fell to his blanket-clad legs. "You've always helped me."

"So have your friends," Severus pointed out, feeling his friends had likely done far more helping than he ever had, especially with personal and emotional issues.

"You don't care about me," Harry added.

Severus felt his heart stutter, remaining silent. Harry had no idea how wrong he was, how much Severus did care. He cared more than he ever thought possible.

"I need someone who doesn't care," Harry continued and Severus looked at him, puzzled.

"Why?" he asked.

The sheer pain sitting in the tear-filled green eyes that rose to meet his broke Severus' heart.

"Because I don't care," Harry said quietly.

And what could he possibly say to that?

February 2001

Severus was in the library, rearranging the books on the shelves to accommodate for the selection changes due to his removal of the darker tomes and listening to the music he had playing softly through the house. Sinatra had become a favourite and staple inside Grimmauld Place. He'd gone through a dozen or more records over the couple years, watching Harry's reaction to each one to discover which the young man liked as he would never say what he enjoyed. Anytime Sinatra had been on, however, Severus was sure he'd seen a small flash in the green eyes and the smallest of twitches in the thin, chapped lips. Here and there, he knew he was seeing Harry's body attempt to smile, calling forth the memory of how to do so, and Severus couldn't wait for the moment that he finally got to see Harry's amazing smile once again.

After these last few years, Harry was beginning to heal, in small ways but even small was progress. It seemed the music, their walks, watching him brew, and reading, the newest activity Harry had picked back up, had begun to bring a peace back to Harry. He was eating more and Severus was thrilled when his scans revealed any weight gain. He was able to go a full two days without cutting. The sleepless, nightmare-filled nights were no longer every night. He no longer remained in bed for days or weeks, often joining Severus in the library instead. He argued less when Severus told him he deserved joy, enjoyment, happiness, peace, love…life. Harry was healing and Severus was coming to love the man that was returning to him.

"Severus."

He turned at the quiet voice and found Harry standing in the library doorway. This scene had happened dozens of times before, but not exactly like this. all those other times, Harry had been sobbing and bloody. This time, he was crying and he held a knife, but there was no blood. Harry's fingers were white around the knife and his eyes were desperate.

"I…I want to, I really want to," Harry said, his hand with the knife trembling.

Severus realized immediately what was happening and his heart leapt with hope. Harry wanted to cut, had likely been close, but had come to him instead for help before cutting. He had encouraged Harry to come to him when he felt the urge, but it had never happened until after the harm had been inflicted. Until now…

Severus dropped the books he held onto the empty space on the shelf and moved to sit on the sofa.

"Come sit," he said gently and watched as Harry did though clearly with a lot of effort. He could tell a part of Harry was telling him to run away and hide so he could just cut. The pride he felt when that didn't happen and Harry forced himself to sit next to him on the sofa was overwhelming. "Talk to me."

Harry stared hard at the knife he still clutched, sniffing slightly as he continued crying. Severus just waited, knowing Harry needed time to muster the courage to talk and to organize his likely chaotic thoughts. Harry had explained it once after a bad night that his thoughts get messy and chaotic and loud while he fell to the urge, but, once he cut, it all calmed as though releasing with the blood that flowed from his body. It was what made it so enticing yet terrifying, Harry had said, that it calmed his mind, calmed his mind into nothing.

"Today is when the second task happened," Harry eventually said, still staring at the knife. "It made me think of Cedric and then the graveyard, and then Cho and that she's dead, and then of everyone and that everyone's dead, and that everyone's dead because of me."

"It is not your fault," Severus said, used to repeating it by now. "Everyone made their choices and, unfortunately, tragedy followed many of those choices, but not because of you. It was a war forced on children and tragedy was inevitable."

"They were kids," Harry muttered, running his finger along the knife's blade.

Severus watched the action closely.

"So were you," Severus said quietly.

They fell quiet, Harry staring at the knife and Severus watching, tense. The seconds ticked by, long and slow, as they both waited to see what would happen. Could Harry fight the chaos screaming at him to do this? It felt like an hour had passed, but, in reality, it had only been a couple of minutes when Harry stretched out his hand with the knife towards Severus. Moving slowly, Severus reached out, putting his palm under Harry's hand. It was obviously with great effort yet again that Harry forced his fingers to open and the knife settled into Severus' hand. He grasped it and pulled it away, setting it on the sofa behind him out of Harry's reach. With his other hand, he held Harry's now empty one and felt it tremble as it clutched at him. He shifted on the sofa and pulled Harry to his chest.

"You did so well," Severus murmured, feeling Harry taking shuddering breaths against him. "You're okay. You beat it." He rubbed Harry's back.

"This time," Harry said into his chest.

"One time is all we need right now," Severus said. "One time is one step."

Severus smiled into Harry's hair when the young man nodded against him. He didn't know if Harry actually agreed or if it was an absent response, but it was an acknowledgement nonetheless.

"I think we should celebrate," Severus said quietly. "What would you like to do? Anything you want."

Silence fell again as Harry thought, only very lightly trembling in Severus' arms now. It didn't take as long this time for Harry to respond.

"Can we have chicken tikka masala for dinner?" Harry asked. "It used to be my favourite."

Severus smiled again and, without thinking, pressed a kiss to the top of Harry's hair. "Anything you want."

March 2001

"Ron has responded to your letter," Severus said, walking into the sitting room where Harry was stretched across the sofa, buried under a blanket as he dozed. It had been a restless night again, both of them sitting up all night talking or just existing in silence as Harry fought the urge to cut. They had managed to get through the night without injury, but it had left Harry exhausted and led to him just collapsing on the sofa for the day. Severus approached the sofa and gently encouraged Harry to sit up just enough for him to sit on the sofa, guiding Harry to lay back down on his thigh. He held the letter down to Harry who stared at it with a small frown.

"Can you read it?" Harry asked quietly. "I don't think I can."

"Certainly," Severus said. He tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter, skimming its contents quickly before reading it aloud. With a smile, he let his one hand card through Harry's hair, keeping the young man as calm as possible, and began to read. "'Harry! Of course I like you! I love you actually! You're my brother despite everything that's happened, well, everything that I've done. You know I'm sorry about all that, but I promise to find a way to make it all up to you. And I know Severus likes you too. I know he likes you a lot. He really cares about you and I'm glad he's there with you too. I'll talk to you soon, mate. Bye! Love, Ron'."

"Brother?" Harry whispered and Severus looked down at him.

"That's what he said," Severus said and he handed the letter down, watching Harry's hand slide out from under the blanket to slowly take the letter for himself. The green eyes darted back and forth, reading and rereading the short letter. The lips tried to twitch both upwards into a smile and downwards into a frown, the man's brain obviously finding things in the letter that were incomprehensible in its current state.

Harry eventually sat up and Severus watched curiously, unsure what kind of reaction to expect.

"I'm going to my room for a little while," Harry said and left the sitting room, Severus watching with slight concern.

He grew even more concerned when he didn't hear footsteps on the stairs, but instead the door to the basement that had been converted to his lab. Severus left the sitting room and headed to the lab, finding the door open, and he walked down the stairs. He moved slowly, quietly, not wanting to startle Harry if the young man was indeed down there and doing what Severus was certain he was doing. He stepped into the lab and hurried forward the moment he recognized Harry sitting on the floor with a knife sliding along his skin. He summoned a clean cloth and knelt in front of Harry, easily taking the knife away.

"Why?" Severus asked, immediately going through the healing process.

"I…I don't deserve…" Harry choked. "I…no…no one should love me. They can't."

"Fortunately for you, that is out of your control," Severus said.

"Look at me," Harry said, agonized, and eyes filled with tears. "What is there to love?"

Severus finished bandaging Harry's arm and banished everything, including the offending knife. He lifted a hand and let it rest on Harry's damp cheek, ensuring he had the man's attention.

"Everything," he said softly and held Harry against him as the young man broke down into tears.

September 2001

Severus moved the lamb mince around the pan, letting it render and brown, before adding in the diced carrots, chopped mushrooms, and frozen peas. The Beatles drifted through the house, giving a calm to the atmosphere and filling the silence. He glanced over at the table where Harry was sitting, head in his hand tiredly as he sketched. Art, another past interest revived in Harry's life. It had become a common activity for Harry to pick up during and after a sleepless night or after a severe cutting. Today was in response to another sleepless night. There had been many in the first couple weeks of the month in response to September first being, not only the old return to Hogwarts for a new school year, but also Hermione Granger's birthday. September was typically a difficult month for Harry to get through.

"Would you like more tea?" Severus asked, moving the lamb and vegetable mixture off the heat, and testing the softness of the boiling potatoes.

"Yes, please," Harry said quietly and Severus smiled lightly at the progress they'd made in Harry actually asking for things or accepting offers.

Severus grabbed the kettle and a teabag, bringing them both over to Harry and filling his empty teacup. As he did, he glanced at Harry's sketchbook, finding what seemed to be a table of food.

"It's the Welcoming Feast," Harry said, adding shade to what Severus realized was a treacle tart. "My first one was the most and best food I'd ever had. I didn't get much with the Dursleys. I always loved the feasts."

"Would you ever want to go back for one?" Severus asked, adding Harry's desired amount of milk and sugar to the teacup.

"I don't know," Harry said and Severus recognized the response for what it was: a possibility. Harry hadn't said 'no' which meant there was a part of him that was or would one day consider returning to Hogwarts for a feast.

He smiled again at the young man and ran his fingers through the messy hair before returning to the stove. As he drained the potatoes and began to mash them, he looked over at Harry again, finding the young man had sat back in his chair to sip his tea. He took a moment to observe. Harry had changed a lot since Severus found him in the Weasleys' sitting room. He had gained weight, though he was still well below the weight he should be, but it was harder to feel or see his bones. The dark circles under his eyes weren't as black anymore, typically a lighter purple except after bad episodes. His skin was no longer as leathery and had gained a tiny bit of colour from their daily walks that Severus insisted on no matter the weather. He could manage the smallest of smiles on occasion. His eyes, while still dim and lacking their once glimmering nature, were no longer dead-looking. There was a life there again, a questioning life, but life nonetheless. A remarkable, beautiful young man was emerging and Severus adored him.

As Harry put his tea down and returned to his sketch, Severus turned back to the gravy that he was whisking.

"I used to cook," Harry said and Severus sent him a quick raised eyebrow. "I had to learn at the Dursleys', but I ended up liking it. I used to really like it actually."

"Given you had to return to them each year, I take it you were decent and did not poison them or burn down the house," Severus said and he spotted the tiny smile on the young man's face.

"No, I was pretty good actually," Harry said.

"Would you like to try cooking again?" Severus asked.

Harry hummed. "Maybe."

March 2002

Severus was washing the dishes and putting them away, needing the kitchen clean to start the night's celebratory dinner. Harry had gone an entire week without cutting and they were hosting Ron yet again. He glanced over at Harry as he put the final dish away and began to pull out the food for cooking. It had been months ago that Harry had admitted that he would perhaps like to start cooking again. It hadn't happened despite Severus' offers nearly every day. However, the more he offered, the more he saw a glint in Harry's eye that told him the young man did want to take up the activity again.

"Alright, get up here," he said and Harry's head popped up, a smile spreading across the young man's face as he left the table to join Severus at the counter. "Are you ready? You don't have to cook if you really don't want to."

Harry nodded. "I think I'm ready. Besides, you're here if I have some sort of breakdown."

Severus knew the progress Harry had made, knew how much he'd healed, but he also knew how much healing there was still left to do. He placed a hand on one of Harry's forearms. "Do you think you can do this?"

When Harry took his hand and held it, warmth flowed through him.

"The need is there as it always is, but cooking is not going to push me to mutilate myself," Harry said.

With a smile of his own, Severus squeezed Harry's hand. "Good," he said. "Just don't burn down the house," he added with a smirk.

The laughter that escaped Harry stunned him. There hadn't been even a hint of laughter inside Grimmauld Place for the last four years. Severus couldn't help but stare at Harry as he listened to the music that was the young man's laughter. The pure joy that filled Harry's face made Severus' heart pound hard inside his chest with affection and pride and, if he were honest, love. Amazed and filled with his own joy at this newest step in Harry's healing, Severus began to laugh along with him. The air in Grimmauld seemed to lighten, a light coming in and chasing away some of the shadow that had engulfed the place for so long.

Their laughter eased and they were left staring at each other. As Severus gazed at Harry, he saw what he had been waiting to see for four years: bright, green eyes.

Who had moved first, he couldn't say, but the electricity that coursed through him as their lips touched was shocking. He felt the moment in which Harry began to panic, likely thinking he had done something wrong, but Severus quickly responded to erase the thoughts. The kiss was light, gentle, a questioning sharing of happiness and long-growing feelings. After just a few seconds, they broke apart and gazed at each other.

"No protests?" Harry asked quietly.

Severus raised a hand to stroke Harry's cheek. "Why argue against something I want?"

Harry smiled and they reunited in another kiss.

October 2003

Severus walked out of the en suite bathroom and back into the bedroom. He expected Harry to still be in bed sleeping as it had been a hard night, given the date of Halloween. They had nowhere to be until later when they were going to walk along the Thames. However, entering the bedroom, he found Harry awake and getting dressed and, while that was slightly surprising, it wasn't what stopped him in his tracks. What stopped him was what Harry had chosen to wear.

He was standing in front of the full-length mirror and wearing a T-shirt rather than the jumpers he had lived in for the last four years.

Harry spotted him in the mirror and smiled though Severus could see the hint of hesitancy in the smile.

"It still fits," Harry said, gesturing to the simple grey T-shirt.

"It does," Severus said, walking over to him and coming to stand behind him.

Harry was still thin, but finally closer to the proper weight. The shirt was large on the arms and slightly baggy across the chest. Severus couldn't stop his eyes from falling down to Harry's arms, the scar-covered skin on full display. He brought his eyes back up to Harry, meeting Harry's in the mirror questioning.

"Thought maybe they're not so bad," Harry said quietly, running a finger over some of the scars. Severus could see Harry was still uncomfortable having his scars out, but was proud of his young lover for taking the step to try.

"They're not bad at all," Severus said. "They show your strength and will to live."

Harry leaned back against him and Severus wrapped his arms around the young man. "I love you," Harry whispered.

"And I you," Severus whispered back, kissing his head and reveling in the smile Harry gave him.

December 2003
Christmas Eve

"You are certain about the Burrow tomorrow?" Severus asked, taking a bite of the garlic shrimp alfredo Harry had made for dinner.

Harry nodded. "I'm ready to see them all and have a real Christmas again. Christmas used to be my favourite time of year at Hogwarts."

"Would you like to visit Minerva and see the castle before the decorations are removed?" Severus asked and Harry smiled.

"I'd like that," Harry said.

They fell silent as they continued eating. Watching Harry and taking in the life that had returned to the young man, Severus knew he'd made the right choice. He pulled the box from his pocket and pushed it across the table so it was sitting next to Harry's hand around his glass of water. Harry looked at it and then him curiously, but Severus just waited. Harry picked up the box and flicked it open. Severus would never admit to the anxiety he felt, but it eased quickly when Harry lit up, eyes darting back to him as they sparkled. He watched Harry remove the silver band, put the box down, and slide the ring onto his left hand.

"Yes," Harry whispered, smiling widely and tears in his eyes.

Severus reached out to clasp Harry's hand, heart pounding at the sight of the ring on his love's finger. They squeezed each other's hands and resumed eating.

December 2007

Severus smirked as he grazed Harry's sides, making the young man squirm and laugh at the ticklish feeling. Harry being ticklish was one of his favourite things about his husband. He studiously ignored that Harry was in the middle of preparing a platter of sandwiches for their waiting guest.

"It's going to be your fault if these go all over the floor," Harry said, laughing.

Severus chuckled and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, pressing his cheek to Harry's head. "Why did you have to invite him over? If I recall, this day should be for us."

"Tonight will be for us," Harry told him. "I want him here for a while to celebrate. He was the first."

Severus sighed. "Make it up tonight?"

He looked down at Harry as the younger man turned to look at him. "You know I will."

"I'll hold you to that," Severus said and pressed a kiss to Harry's temple. "Come on then. Let's not keep Ronald waiting any longer."

With a smile from Harry, Severus grabbed the stand with the cake as Harry grabbed the sandwiches and they walked to the sitting room. Upon entering, Ron was sitting on the sofa and eyes on their wedding picture on the mantle. Severus took a moment to admire the photo as well. Black and white, Muggle, distorted by snow…it was perfect. He could still remember every detail of that day, of that moment. Every time he looked at the photo, he was flooded with adoration that only grew when he then got to lay eyes on his beloved husband.

"Lunch is served," Harry said, pulling Severus' attention from the photo. They placed their plates down on the coffee table.

"I should be serving the two of you," Ron said pointedly.

"If we wish to be given food poisoning, we will call on you," Severus drawled, smirking when Harry swatted him on the shoulder. Ron just laughed in response. Severus moved to sit in the nearby armchair.

"So, why am I the only one you invited over?" Ron asked.

"Because you were the first one to accept everything," Harry said and Severus smiled at his husband. "I want to celebrate my two best relationships."

"Hiding something from me, love?" Severus teased, raising an eyebrow. Harry laughed and Ron choked, making Severus chuckle.

"If only I was able to hide anything from you, dear," Harry said, falsely placating.

"It took me a while to accept everything," Ron pointed out. "I nearly didn't. I was nearly too late."

Severus wound his arm around Harry's waist as Harry came to perch on the arm of his chair. He knew what Ron was talking about, remembering all those dark days and nights spent with Harry. He remembered the despair, the heartache, the shadow that concealed the true Harry for all those years. Glancing up at Harry, he was overcome with love for the young man and joy that they had made it through, that Harry had made it through. Ron was right; he was nearly too late. They were all nearly too late. So many times, Harry had almost disappeared, whether to death or the shadow he'd become, but he didn't. He was here with them, with Severus, and in control of the shadows that haunted him.

"Everything good takes a while," Harry said softly and Severus pressed a kiss to his forearm, regardless of the multitude of scars.

"Yeah," Ron said and Severus watched him grab a sandwich. "Everything good takes a while."

Fin