Chapter 16

Recap: Harry has a new guardian but now he has to go to therapy! Severus Snape has arrived at Privet Drive and is taking polyjuice potion to look like Mr. Potter.

NT - NT - NT - NT - NT

Harry looked down. He saw streaks of ash down his arms from the floo.

"Hi, Harry," said the Healer gently, tilting her head down to make eye contact with her client. "Knut for your thoughts?

Harry glanced around the room. A large tapestry covered with massive yellow flowers was draped over the ceiling. The rest of the office had a green, blue, and purple tye-dye motif from the carpet to the walls.

Harry opened his mouth but no sound came out so he closed his mouth again and tried to work past the lump in his throat.

His healer was silent, merely staring benignly at Harry.

Harry squeezed his fists together and made himself steady his breathing before making eye contact with the healer.

"I don't really want to be here," Harry admitted quietly as he absently slid his fingers across the plush tye-dye couch. Harry hoped he wasn't offending the healer.

Healer Tonks gave an exaggerated sigh. "I get that all the time. No one likes me."

Harry raised his eyebrows, hoping that that was a bad joke. Harry wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting the mind healer to look like but it certainly wasn't Healer Tonks. The witch had on a white shirt with Puddlemere United logo, a long navy blue blazer and boot-cut trousers with holes in the knees. She was young, too.

The Healer smiled and turned slightly red. "I'm kidding," she said, "none of the kids I work with come willingly but I've never lost anyone yet."

Harry's cheeks widened into a forced smile.

Harry inhaled quickly through his nose and made himself smile in what he imagined was a terrifying grimace.

"Do you know why I have to come?" he asked.

The corners of Healer Tonks' lips inched up and her eyes were sad. "Yes," she said, absently rubbing her chin with her thumb, "the physical scars have been healed but when you have been through regular trauma it can also create invisible scars…

The witch trailed off. Tonks looked up towards a soft creaking noise above. The light filtered by the tapestry flickered rapidly like strobe lights. The curtains began swaying.

"Harry?" the healer asked quietly. "What's going on for you?"

Harry squeezed his fingers together. "Look. I'm sorry. This is my business. Not yours. I don't want to be here. I don't understand what you want from me."

"This must be scary," she said gently, "but you've made it through worse." The witch's facial expressions hadn't changed despite the accidental magic.

"Y'know," she said, her voice was carefree, "I think I need tea." The witch turned around and poked a kettle with her wand. The kettle immediately whistled then she began to prepare her beverage. "You want some?" she asked as if it was a casual dinner party instead of a therapy session.

Harry shrugged then inclined his head. It was something to do.

The witch handed him a teal mug with diagonal orange and purple stripes. The tea was bright pink and it tasted incredible: sweet but not overly sweet, earthly but not bitter, and just the right temperature.

Harry slowly sipped the hot tea. "This is really good," said Harry, feeling more relaxed and holding up the mug. "Thanks." As Harry drank, the lights stopped flickering quite so ominously; the curtains stilled.

"From what I hear, you were very brave to go to Professor McGonagall. I was a little frightened of her when I was a first-year, if I'm being honest. How did you decide to confide in her?"

"I guess I just took a chance. I didn't have anything to lose."

"I agree," said the witch, leaning forward. "You were able to share very personal information with her and she was able to help you."

"Yeah, I suppose," said Harry.

"Professor McGonagall was not able to help you until you came forward and revealed the injuries nor was Madam Pomfrey able to do her healing until you felt safe enough to be vulnerable with her. It's the same with me. If I am to help you, you will need to take a chance."

The corner of Harry's mouth quirked up and his eyes were bright.

"I know you grew up with muggles, Harry. Did any of your friends or family work with a therapist?

Harry lifted his eyebrows and glanced up, the answers were probably there.

He thought back to the last time he'd even heard the word and landed on a memory.

"Um, well, when I was little one of the teachers called in Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. She said that I was having trouble making friends," at this Harry rolled his eyes. "Anyway, this teacher wanted the Dursley's to get me a therapist to help me "get me out of my shell.""

Tonks nodded.

"So, did they follow her advice and find you someone to talk to?"

Harry laughed, "what do you think?"

Tonks smiled. She had a nice smile, Harry thought. "I take it they did not approve of talk therapy,"

Harry shook his head, grinning, "definitely not," he said firmly.

"And what do you think, Harry?"

"I guess I could be okay with anything that they think of as "abnormal."

"I'm super pleased to hear that, Harry. You just mentioned that you don't really want to be here but I'm happy to hear that you have a pretty open-mind to all this," she said, lifting her hands to gesture to her office as if to explain what "all this" was.

"Harry, this isn't a criticism but I assume that you weren't intentionally messing with the lights. Why do you think your magic is affecting them like this?"

Harry gulped, then forced himself to breathe.

"Harry," said Tonks, working to reassure her patient. "Take all the time you need."

Harry took a few deep breaths, then spoke.

"It's just hard ma'am."

When Harry didn't elaborate, she nodded and urged the boy to go on.

"It's embarrassing," Harry muttered.

"Tell me a little more," said Healer Tonks, squeezing her hands together.

Harry hugged himself as if hiding his chest would make him feel less vulnerable.

There was silence for a while then the witch spoke once again, "tell you what, if you could be doing anything right now, what would it be?"

Harry thought. He thought about having his own bedroom far away from the Dursleys. He thought about the cabinets of snacks that Remus had prepared just for him. He thought about Ron and Hermione. He didn't know if he could ask for that yet - to see them. He didn't want to inconvenience Remus after everything they had already done for him. Harry remembered his nimbus and his very first practice with Oliver Wood. His captain had thrown golf ball after golf ball for him and Harry had managed to catch all of them. It felt so freeing just to be good at something.

"I would like to fly," Harry said quietly.

Harry told Tonks about how McGonagall had chosen him to be Gryfindor seeker even though he had technically disobeyed Madam Hooch.

Tonks had roared with laughter and started slapping her knee so violently that Harry pushed further back in his seat to avoid getting hit.

"How about, we talk and then I promise you'll get a chance to go flying."

Harry nodded and smiled sheepishly. That sounded okay to him.

SS - SS - SS

Severus opened one door and found a large bedroom with a king-sized bed and a horrible beige-pink bedspread. In the corner of the room was a formal-looking light oak desk that corresponded to the dreadful colorscheme. Severus made easy work of locating Vernon's information: all Vernon's clients, passed deals, and information about the man's boss. It was child's play compared to his spying ten years ago.

As Severus had hoped, there was a small planner, with a shiny plastic cover. In a hideous green and mustard yellow was a logo that said Grunnings Drill Company, 0% nonsense and 100% drills since 1978.

Severus leafed through the book and committed to memory all of the dates of Vernon Dursley's upcoming company meetings.

Now the fun would begin. Severus' eyebrows had jutted up and he showed the smallest sliver of a smile.

A/N - Thanks for reading! I'm wrapping up this story so I'm looking for a new project. If there are any hurt/comfort or other similar stories you want to see please let me know by leaving a review or DM-ing me! Thanks!