Okay guys, this is it, the final chapter of this story.

I had wanted to give so much more detail, and follow these characters for longer, but I'm accepting my limits and ending the story here. Perhaps one day I'll be able to publish a sequel or some one shots with my ideas for what happened next.

Trigger warnings: pretty much the general ones for this story. This specifically has mentions of self harm, suicidal ideation, and death by completed suicide (not a current character! In the past/author created character).

I hope you enjoy. It's not as edited as I would like. But I wanted to get it posted tonight. At some point in the near future I am planning to upload this story to AO3 and edit chapters for continuity and improve the writing as I do so. I'm under the same username there if you would like to follow me!

Severus' house was small and dusty. Draco was trying not to let his disgust over the filth and poverty that seemed to permeate the place show, but he doubted it had escaped his godfather's notice. He wandered around the small sitting room, letting his fingers leave dusty trails on the spines of the books on the shelf he was inspecting. After spending several hours at the muggle hospital waiting for them to declare Harry sane enough to be released back to society, they had made their way home. It was late enough in the afternoon that Harry had been able to convince Snape to let them reschedule their appointments with Lou for the following day. Now Snape had disappeared upstairs with Harry to place some hefty monitoring charms on their room so that he could take a nap. Draco cringed at the thought of the conversation that was likely to take place once Snape had him alone.

He hadn't been lying when he'd told Harry that he hadn't asked about his parents. He didn't want to know. It's not like it matters, wherever they are they certainly aren't here. And any chance of them convincing the ministry to give me back to them is gone now. His inner tirade stopped when a book caught his eye.

It was on a smaller bookshelf, tucked into the corner of the room where it would be easily overlooked. Draco had expected to find some fantastic potions texts, perhaps even some literature on dark arts, but instead it was filled with yellowed pages and paperback novels. Plain covers and simplistic art that screamed muggle, but in a more refined way that Draco would have thought. He'd only recognized a handful of the titles, authors significant enough that even pureblood wizards were expected to be at least somewhat knowledgeable of their works. William Shakespeare, Jane Austin, Charles Dickens. Draco hadn't actually read any of them, though he could probably fake his way through a conversation if he felt like trying.

The book that had stopped him was a stumpy paperback, the spine an odd shade of yellow that he couldn't say for sure was from age. The book had been split in two, each half wrapped in clear cellophane to keep it together. When he pulled the first half off the shelf it laid in his hand with a warm, pleasing weight. Thumbing through the pages produced a musty smell that made Draco want to curl up by a fire and never look up. The pages were as worn as the spine, some torn on the edges, or creased from dogearing. The cover had an image of a man in a suit, holding a woman in a large frilly ball gown of sorts in his arms. There was a building in the distance, and storm clouds rolling in. The title, in bold somewhat inelegant type, stated "GONE WITH THE WIND" by a woman named Margaret Mitchell. A smaller font at the top claimed it as "the great American novel". Why would Snape even keep something like this? It's falling apart! It can't possibly be valuable. Draco carefully thumbed to the first page, what could possibly be so important about an old muggle book from the states?. He told himself firmly that he was only reading it as a way to snoop on his nominal guardian. He was halfway through the second chapter and nearly jumped out of his skin when Severus came downstairs calling his name.

Severus regarded his young charge carefully. So much had happened in the last few weeks. He was Draco's legal guardian, something he hadn't even dared to hope for in the past. And with the events of the last few days, it was likely that Draco would stay under his care until he became of age. But due to circumstances beyond his control, and his success in convincing Dumbledore that the prophecy that had gripped the war thus far was rubbish, and that it was to their advantage that Voledmort thought that only Harry could kill him, Snape hadn't been much of a guardian thus far.

He had kept up with him, through Remus mostly. But Draco had been in such a fragile place, Severus had been in no position to help him. Of course now, that would all change.

"Harry is sleeping, I imagine he will be out for the night." He said as he walked into his living room and found Draco curled up in a chair completely absorbed in a small book. Severus had expected any number of books in the room to peak his godson's interest, and had removed the most dangerous ones before the boys had arrived last night. So he was surprised, to say the least, when he reached the chair and saw what the boy was reading. Schooling his face, he neutrally commented "An excellent choice," before continuing on to sit on the sofa opposite the chair.

"Draco.."

"I don't care."

Snape looked up, raising an eyebrow, which was question enough to prompt Draco to continue.

"I don't care where they are. I don't even care if they're dead or alive." His voice was harsh and ragged from emotion. "Clearly they don't care about me."

Severus swallowed, carefully occluding his emotions, now was not the time to fall apart. "Draco," he started again more gently. But what could he say? He would not lie and tell him that his parents did care. Not only would it not help, but Draco would call his bluff immediately. There was nothing he could say to make things better, they could only face the horrible truth, and work through it together.

"If you are sure you don't want to know, I won't force you to hear it," He said carefully. "But We need to discuss how it impacts you, and I must warn you that there will be publicity, I think it would be best to go back to school prepared for what you might hear."

Draco looked out the window, then down in his lap. Severus tried to give him the privacy he needed. Eventually he spoke again. "They're gone, aren't they?" His voice was impossibly small.

Severus sighed, and then nodded. He decided then and there that the only thing he could offer Draco was the truth, no matter how hurtful it may be. "Your father was taken into custody a few days before the final raid. It was by using a order member poly-juiced to appear as him that we were able to infiltrate Malfoy Manor and gain the upper hand."

Draco's eyes closed, but a solitary tear slipped down his cheek anyway. "And my mother?" He asked so quietly that Snape would not have known what he had said if he hadn't already predicted what his next question would be.

"She is currently unaccounted for. The working theory is that she recognized that her husband had been replaced by a fake, and fled the country before the raid happened."

Draco hung his head, and they sat in silence for a long time. The sun set in the window, and dusk took over the room. Severus was just about to move to turn on the muggle lights when Draco's voice broke through the shadows. "I always thought," he said, sounding so much younger than he was. "I thought… that if she could be safe from him that she would come back for me… that she would choose me."

Severus's heart broke, more than he had thought possible. He had nothing to offer this child, no way to ease the hurt of rejection from one's own mother. But he supposed, he knew from his own hurt held between the very walls they sat in, that hurt. And he supposed that was something.

"I'm sorry Draco," Snape didn't say anymore just then, but in his mind he added "I will choose, you Draco. From this day forward I will always choose you."

Sirius sat in a plain, rustic looking office, waiting for the intake counselor to come and speak with him. Lucy sat to his right, and as promised was staying with him until he was officially admitted. Remus had offered of course, but one of many difficult decisions that Sirius had made today was to decline that help.

Remus had called Lucy, who agreed to come as soon as she could. Sirius had sat with her, at the bare wooden table in the kitchen, nursing a cuppa. For a long time neither had spoken at all. But eventually he found the words to explain himself as best he could.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," then ruefully he added "I suppose I do… but I don't know what to do about it. I have spent my whole life trying not to become my parents. But somehow, I have anyway. Not in the way I had worried about, but like them all the same. I'm angry, and selfish. I don't take responsibility for myself, and I seem to self-destruct if I'm left to my own devices for too long. Really the only time in my life I've felt like I was stable enough to function was when James was alive. Even then, it wasn't great… but he helped me, cared for me… looking back he probably took more responsibility for me than he should have. I suppose he needed something to save. After he couldn't save Harold." He looked up, almost surprised to see that the therapist was still there. "Has anyone told you about Harold? I don't know if we've even told Harry now that I think about it." He took a sip of his tea, and then closed his eyes. Somehow that made the talking easier. "Harold was James' younger brother. He was a squib. His parents were wonderful and they always loved him just the same, but… It's hard to live in a family where you don't belong." He let the words hang for a moment, trying to remember if he was talking about himself or the Potters. "He killed himself on September first, after they dropped James off at the train for his first year of Hogwarts."

He opened his eyes and saw Lucy give him a compassionate, but calculating look. "And you two met that day, right?" She prompted after a moment. He gave a curt nod. When he didn't continue his story she spoke again. "Did the self harm start when you got out of prison?"

Sirius swallowed thickly, he had known she was going to ask, but merlin it was hard to talk about so openly. He simply nodded.

"But you struggled before, even in school I'm guessing?"

Again he nodded, when she didn't speak again he knew she wanted more from him, needed more, if she was going to help him. "It started when I was nine. Right around the time I realized how much I wanted to be different from my parents. They discovered my new habit the following summer, and that instigated a period of several years where my mother had me committed to St. Mungo's psych ward against my will. I think the first time she thought she would 'scare me straight'. But after I was sorted into Gryfendor it became a campaign to discredit me. She told me flat out that she was laying the groundwork to have me committed forever once I came of age." He took a shuddering breath before continuing. "At first it was just self harm. The summer before first year I was admitted for a suicide attempt that she had fabricated. Over the next few years it was like all the things she made up became fate. By the time I escaped their house and went to live with the Potters I was too far gone for them to really help me, though they tried."

Lucy had listened, she had asked thoughtful questions, and eventually they had reached the conversation he had most dreaded. "So last night…" She said cautiously "Had you been having thoughts of harming yourself, before you started drinking?"

He nodded miserably, not quite trusting his voice.

"How long have you been having those thoughts?"

He shrugged my whole life? "It's been really bad since Christmas" was all he managed to say.

Lucy offered a sad smile. "And now? This morning?"

Sirius closed his eyes and nodded again, a few stray tears escaping down his cheeks.

"I'm guessing you don't want to go to st mungos…" she said carefully.

He barked a laugh, but it sounded forced and sharp. "Not particularly," then more softly "but I told Remus I would, if you said that I should."

Lucy regarded him for a long moment without saying anything. "I understand your resistance to going there, with your history. I do feel that it's worth mentioning that mental health treatment has come a long way in the past decade, in both the magical and muggle world. I don't think I can recommend that you remain in the community right now…"

Sirius gulped, but nodded. "I don't feel particularly safe by myself, if that's what you mean. I know I can't stay here, Remus needs to help Harry… and I think maybe I need to figure it out on my own this time."

Lucy offered a sad smile. "You don't have to do it on your own, Sirius. But I think it's fair to say that you and Remus have become codependent. And I think you would benefit from some time away from each other. With people who can keep you safe while helping you heal yourself."

Sirius slumped. "So, the psych ward?"

Lucy smiled and shook her head. "Not st mungos at least, I think I have a better option."

And that was how they had landed here. A magical trauma treatment center in rural Canada. Lucy told him it was the forefront of mental health research and treatment in the magical world. He would be admitted first to their "ward" which was most similar to a traditional psychiatric inpatient hospital setting. But slowly, over what would likely be the next few months of his life, he would progress through their program and move to having less and less support and structure.

As he filled out the intake form he couldn't help feeling some trepidation. He would spend at least the next two months without access to his wand or the outside world. But they wouldn't take him unless he agreed to their treatment plan willingly. It was the scariest choice he had ever made in his life. But it felt good too.

Remus has not been pleased when he first saw Harry's cast. His thoughts must have shown on his face because the boy immediately started to tear up, quickly insisting that it was not because of what had happened with Sirius, and begging Remus not to keep him from his godfather.

Remus' heart sunk when he heard Harry say that. He honestly wasn't sure how to respond at first. He led Harry to the sofa in Snape's living room, thankful that they had been given some privacy for this conversation.

"Harry," he said gently. And when Harry wouldn't look up at him he sighed, and gently pulled the boy's chin towards him. "First things first, nothing that happened with Sirius last night was your fault. I promise you. Sirius asked me to tell you that himself."

Harry pulled away again. "Why isn't he here? Is he… is he still mad?"

Remus sighed again "Harry, he was never mad at you, not really. You have to understand…. Sirius has been struggling for a long time. Even before he went to Azkaban he had his demons. He's not well Harry, and that is not your fault, nor is it your responsibility to fix."

"But he's helped fix me, isn't that what family does? We can help him Remus I know we can!"

He gently shook his head "it's not the same Harry, he's an adult. And more than that, people have been saving Sirius his entire life. And just like we've told you, at some point You have to choose to save yourself. Sirius has reached that point, I can't help him anymore, and it's not healthy for him or for us to try right now."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, "so where is he?"

"Lucy helped us to find a place in a treatment facility for him. She says it's the best one in the world, it's where he needs to be right now."

Harry stared off for a long time without saying anything. Remus could see that he was still struggling with what had happened and feeling guilty. Probably even feeling mad at Remus for how he had chosen to handle it. That was something Remus was just going to have to accept for now. One day, maybe Harry would understand his decision. And hopefully, one day, Sirius would be able to talk to Harry about all of this and help him come to terms with it. For now, Remus knew he needed to focus on Harry, and , as Lou had reminded him, on himself too.

"So if your arm isn't because of what happened last night, care to fill me in on what happened?"

Harry felt the blush creeping up his cheeks. He had known that he would have to talk about it eventually. And had even talked with Lucy earlier today about the whole thing. He knew from his talk with her that he needed to start trusting Remus with the whole truth. "Yeah, erm, I got a letter…. It was from my cousin. I still don't know how he got it to me, it came by owl and everything." Harry gulped, You can do this… Remus cares about you, and he deserves to know the truth. Wait, what did Lucy tell me? Oh right, that I deserve the truth too. I can't live my whole life feeling like I'm hiding something.

So Harry finally spoke the truth, the whole truth. The one that had been weighing on him since those early days in Grimmauld place last summer.

It hadn't been just Harry who had been hurt at number 4 privet drive. Harry still wasn't sure why he had lied in the first place. He tried to tell himself it was to protect his cousin, but he knew that wasn't the full truth. If he had wanted to protect Dudley he would have told someone sooner. Perhaps that was it, he was ashamed. It was bad enough to have let someone do something so terrible to him (and yes, he knew that he hadn't 'let' Uncle Vernon do it… but it felt that way sometimes). But to know that he had known someone else was suffering, and still hadn't been brave enough to speak up, that secret had nearly killed him.

Dudley's letter had begun with an apology, apologizing for what his dad had done to Harry. Then Dudley had admitted that he knew it wasn't his fault, but just like Harry, knowing wasn't the same as believing.

Once Harry had calmed down enough to read the whole letter, he had learned that after the trial, Dudley had finally found the courage to tell his mum the truth. That his father had abused him too. And Aunt Petunia, to her credit, had believed him. She had gotten him into therapy, and they had moved to a new town, where they lived in a small council flat. Dudley assured Harry that his mum hadn't changed that much. But they were happy, and Dudley was safe.

Remus and Harry returned to Grimmauld place just long enough to pack up. They decided to take advantage of the extra weeks of Christmas break and go on holiday. They had found a windy beachside muggle town and rented a small cottage just outside the village. Without the threat of Voldemort hanging over them, Harry had enjoyed more freedom than he had had in his entire life.

By the time February 1st came around, Harry and Draco were both healthy enough to return to school. Harry returned as a day student, and came home to His and Remus' cottage by the sea each night. He continued to see Lucy, and to be followed by the eating disorder center.

By the end of the summer term, things were settling down from the fall out of the war. And Harry finally felt like a normal teenager, or almost at least. Two days before his 16th birthday, Tom Riddle, who Harry had been shocked to learn had been taken alive, was sentenced to receive the dementors kiss. It took a lot of arguing with both Remus and Lucy, and even some intervention from Sirius (who was still in the treatment center but got regular visits), but Harry convinced them to let him visit Tom before he was kissed.

When he came face to face with him, with the man who had single handedly ruined his life, Harry just felt sad. Due to the spells containing him, Riddle could not speak, but Harry knew he had been recognized, and had been told that the man could hear him.

"You wasted your life Tom, you wasted it. You had a rough childhood, but you know what, a lot of us did. And over and over again, you chose death and hate. But tomorrow, you'll be gone. And as for me, I'm going to choose to live.