Archive of Our Own

It's been building up.

At first, it was the small things, the details. Easily overlooked gestures; the way Harry's throat constricted, the occasional squeeze in his chest. His skin prickled with unease when he walked down the corridors, ears twitching at loud sounds.

He barely paid it any mind, no wonder; given how many matters were already occupying his capacity. The oh-so-famous nickname "Boy Who Lived" took a drastic turn, changing to the "Boy Who Lies." The Wizarding world was quick to switch up, branding their former celebrated hero a villain.

Daily Prophet, Ministry, Fudge.

Hogwarts, classmates, friends.

Everybody jumped at the chance to stomp on Harry and his credibility with raw hunger, turning their backs on him. Whispers, glances, stares - that was all he was worth receiving.

Then, it progressed.

Harry was on the edge of his seat, jittery, restless. He could vividly feel the heat within him rise, experiencing headaches and fatigue as if someone was pressing their fingers into his eyeballs, probing how much Harry could last.

Umbridge, detentions, blood quill.

Schoolwork piled up, making his nights shorter, but the nightmares seemed to lengthen. Solitude, loneliness. Besides Hermione and Ron, who were busy with their prefect duties on top of homework, Harry only talked to Neville and Ginny.

It got worse.

Hot coals on the back of his neck, pressing, sizzling, frying his tender flesh. His chest ripped open, raw, exposed, vulnerable. Something pulled at his emotions as if they were just loose threads on Dudley's cast-offs. It pulled and pulled, taking away joy, sadness, love, until only anger remained.

Dumbledore, Sirius, Snape.

One was ignoring him, not sparing him as much as a glance; the other was actively blaming him for not being a carbon copy of his father ("It's all Snivellus's fault, he's ruined you!"). And Severus? Busy—Voldemort, Order matters, teaching—all wrestling for the professor's attention.

Harry stood little chance. He tried at the very beginning of the school year and visited Severus after curfew. The man looked less than thrilled to have a teenager nest on his sofa, clutching a mug of hot chocolate.

They talked little. Harry could see Severus was exhausted. The word "selfish" echoed at the back of his mind during their short meeting, guilt nibbling at him. He bid goodnight to his guardian and dared to initiate a brief hug, a rare display of affection between them, before he headed to the dorm. The physical contact surprised Snape; Harry could tell by the way the man's body stiffened. But Harry had to be greedy; it was a goodbye in more than one sense. He did not stray back into the dungeons again.

Finally, boiling point.

It was bound to happen; there was only as much Harry was capable of withstanding. The all-consuming rage clogged up his veins, shredding his already ripped chest. Something vile settled around his heart, black and heavy. It fed off the anger, growing and swallowing what came its way.

He snapped at everything, at everyone. Neville and Ginny no longer kept him company. Hermione chastised him once before he told her off. He and Ron fought. The seat next to him became empty as Harry dined at the Great Hall, the bench across from him too.

The climax happened at Potions. Because, of course, it had to be Potions.

It could have been the overstimulation, the fumes, or because he had been paired up with Goyle. Severus was particularly malicious that day, keeping up their pretence of sworn enemies a tad too well. His eyes burned holes into Harry, filled with animosity that certainly felt real.

Insults, glares, snickers.

Goyle sabotaged their potion, throwing the ingredients in the wrong order. It was inevitable and none at all surprising when the liquid screeched like a dying bird and exploded. Pure reflex made Harry throw up a shield, escaping the ruined Invigoration Draught. Goyle wasn't so lucky, landing himself a visit to the hospital wing for burns on his hands.

Severus seethed.

The expression on the man's face was pure loathing as he whipped around just to see the cauldron explode. The last time Harry saw him like this was years ago when he first came to Hogwarts, years before the two of them became family.

Not even a flicker of worry flashed in Severus's eyes. He didn't check for injuries, didn't send Harry to Pomfrey like he did with Goyle. He just yelled.

"Arrogant! Privileged! Reckless! Stupid!” 

The berating flowed out of the professor's mouth in one steady stream. It fed Harry's rage and sated the endless starvation within him.

Liar, burden, unworthy, his mind supplied as his guardian's seemingly ceaseless monologue ended.

"...one thing right! If this is how you intend to perform at your O.W.L. examination, don't even bother attending!"

Harry'd had enough. He wanted to shout, to destroy, to ruin.

"Fine, I won't!" He rose to the remark, screaming back at Severus with a blaze that scorched his throat. "It's not like you ever taught me anything! You're more of a walking dictionary of insults than a Potions Master! Screw you!"

Harry looked straight at those black pupils. Hatred, resentment, fury - all suddenly wiped clean in a mask of stillness. Severus began to occlude, his face turning blank.

Unworthy.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter," a nasal voice, bare of any emotion, stated. "And detention with Filch for the foreseeable future for endangering other students with your recklessness. Moreover, since you've learned as little as you claim, you're dismissed."

Harry merely blinked, his breath stuck somewhere between his lungs and mouth. The whole class was watching the spectacle, but Harry only saw Severus.

He saw the moment he lost him.

"Leave."

Snape's hiss was echoing in his ears long after he stormed out of the classroom. One word, yet it held so much meaning. It cut deep.

Leave... what? It was too vague, making Harry read between the lines. Was it just a command to leave the room? Really?

No.

Harry stopped coming over to Severus and the man didn't reach out once. And then he witnessed the way Severus looked at him. He wanted Harry gone. He wanted him to leave not just his classroom, but his life. He wanted Harry to leave him alone.

Like everybody else.

Only anger refused to abandon him, his last loyal companion. It kept him up all night, causing him to toss in bed. Hot coals on his neck, nails digging into his eyes, lungs full of fog.

Harry didn't delude himself that it was fine. Nothing was fine, not since the graveyard. No, scratch that. Nothing was ever really fine. Not since he was born.

Unwanted. Undesired. Unworthy.

The next days were hell. Harry was like a boat with a hole; he kept sinking, down and down, sinking into the lake of rage until he could not breathe anymore. And a helping hand didn't come.

The whispers in Harry's mind got louder, more tempting, almost comforting. It couldn't compare to Snape's cosy sofa or his bed at Spinner's End, but it was all Harry got. It was the only comfort he deserved. Voldemort promised him to belong, offered him company, loyalty. Harry's anger urged him to give in.

Nagini, Ministry, Mr Weasley.

Harry woke up gasping with his stomach begging to be emptied. Nausea washed over him, the aftertaste of blood and skin still on his tongue. Sheer willpower kept him from vomiting.

Dumbledore, he had to get to Dumbledore.

I might have killed Ron's dad.

Harry's legs gave out as soon as he tried to stand; the stone ground crashed against his knees, and he knocked over his nightstand.

Commotion. His dormmates waking up. Somebody casting Lumos.

It was a pathetic sight, surely. Harry splayed on the floor, shivering, sweating, unable to get up. But his clouded mind couldn't muster an ounce of care.

"Harry! Are you alright?" Ron was next to him in a heartbeat, a heavy hand settling on Harry's shoulder. Warm, comforting.

Unworthy.

Harry shook his head. He moved his tongue, but it made the taste of blood more pronounced. Biting his lip yet again saved him from throwing up.

Nagini, Mr Weasley, the dream.

"Harry?" Another voice asked. A familiar voice. Neville.

But he couldn't speak because it was in his mouth, the flesh he tore off Mr Weasley stuck in between his teeth. But he had to tell them, he had to tell somebody.

Who was he going to get? Dumbledore... yes, he needed the headmaster...

"...Snape."

His lips whispered.

He was handed his glasses, his sight finally sharp again. Four scowling faces greeted him.

"What?" Ron asked, his voice strained. "What did you say, mate?"

"S-Snape... get Snape," Harry repeated, the tremors intensifying. His lower body was freezing from sitting on the ground, the stones unforgivably cold.

"He's still dreaming," Seamus muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Wake up, Harry, it's just a nightmare. Don't let that greasy git get to you!" Ron shook his shoulder roughly, making Harry's pounding head spin.

Do they not understand me? He wondered hazily, trying to think how else he should address the Potions Master for his friends to follow. 'Dad' didn't seem appropriate for some reason.

"Sev-Severus... please," he begged, giving Ron a desperate look. But seeing the red hair brought back his vision.

"Ron, Ministry... your dad's hurt. Tell Dumbledore," he managed to choke out, swallowing dryly a few times. His stomach recoiled from the memories of being Nagini. "Hurry."

Fortunately, Ron didn't ask questions. His face just paled, expression turning troubled as he dashed off, whispering Dumbledore to himself.

"Do you know where you are, Harry?" Neville asked him, obviously convinced that he was still asleep.

He managed a nod. Despite actively attempting to take control of his limbs and speech, Harry's body refused to listen.

"Get Severus..." he urged again.

It was all he could focus on. The black robes, gentle touch, safety. The branch he stood on snapped, and Harry was falling, about to hit the ground. He needed Severus to catch him. His only lifeline.

To his immense relief, Neville hastily left to retrieve the man. The absolute fear he wore on his face as he exited the room told Harry as much.

Harry's shoulders sagged with the weight of the world. He leaned his back against the frame of the bed to save himself from toppling over. Dean and Seamus kept him company but were tactful enough not to speak or ask anything.

He closed his eyes and waited. Waited for his lifeline. Waited to be caught.

'Leave.'

The last word Severus said to him emerged in Harry's consciousness. In his distress, he forgot about the incident, but the memories were crashing back.

'Leave' me alone. Burden.

He clutched his fists, nails digging half-moon shapes into tender skin. How could he have been so foolish? He asked for Severus, but the man wasn't coming. He wouldn't come after what happened.

'Leave' my life! You're unworthy to be close to me.

His lifeline was gone. He was going to hit the ground; nobody was there to catch him.

Alone. Unwanted. Liar.

There wasn't enough oxygen in his lungs.

Alone. Alone.

Weeks' worth of rage turned to pain. Blinding, slicing pain. It cut everything that stood in its way; Harry's hopes, dreams, wishes.

Nobody was coming.

I killed Ron's dad. I'm evil. Murderer. Cedric. Kill the spare. Pain. Pain.

'I can make it better... you don't have to be alone.'

A hiss reverberated in his skull. Harry's body jerked violently, eyes scanning the dorm room. Apart from Dean and Seamus, there was only darkness.

'Come on, Harry. My side will treat you well. Nobody will look down on you.'

Harry couldn't breathe. He heard choked gasps in the distance, but it was nothing compared to Voldemort's voice in his head. So loud, so vile, and it wouldn't stop. Dean's face was suddenly in his field of vision, the boy opening his mouth as if he was talking, but no sound reached him.

And there was the pain, nothing but agony squashing his chest; he couldn't think, so painful, so alone, and please make it stop, somebody, Severus-

The door banged open, bringing Harry back to reality.

"Calm down, Harry-" Seamus was talking to him in a hushed voice but was cut off by the arrival of people.

For one fraction of a second, Harry hoped it was Severus. He lifted his head, forced his eyes to focus, expecting the black robes to greet him.

Instead, he spotted McGonagall's green attire with Ron's red hair at her heels. More commotion, hands pulling him to his feet, voices he barely registered.

There was no Severus.

No Severus.

Ron's dad was safe. The rest of the Weasley family flooed into St. Mungo's shortly after he was found. Harry didn't have the stomach to look at either of them, guilt eating him alive. After all, it was him as Nagini who almost killed Mr Weasley.

Ron almost lost his father.

Harry barely prevented his best friend from suffering the same fate he did. And because Harry had lost his father, twice, he was terrified of causing such loss. He wouldn't wish the feeling even upon his worst enemy; the hollowness in his soul was indescribable.

Harry descended the stairs from Dumbledore's office once he relayed his dream and was dismissed for the night. The headmaster didn't even look at him, but it wasn't surprising anymore. It didn't hurt Harry like it used to. He was just numb.

He couldn't go back to the dorm; the idea of his friends showering him with questions made him shudder. Hermione must have had her hands full with all the chaos, even more with Ron gone. Harry pitied her, but not enough to climb up the suffocating common room and help.

The castle was quiet, dark, and cold. He didn't have his slippers on—McGonagall ushered him to Dumbledore's office in haste that rivalled a Firebolt. It didn't matter; he couldn't feel his feet anyway.

Severus was gone. He didn't bother to show up; Dumbledore didn't mention him, didn't call for him either. The last time Harry saw him was during that fated potions lesson.

Numbness. Despair. Loneliness.

It was better this way, Harry thought as he sat down on the ground in one of the corridors. He was somewhere on the second floor, knees pulled up to his chest, his back against a wall.

He dared not to imagine what would follow. Annulment of the adoption, ministry, signing paperwork, return to the Dursleys—

No. Don't think about it.

Harry stopped himself. He hadn't seen his relatives in three years. Three summers he spent at Spinner's End, three summers he called Severus his family. It seemed like a distant past, unreachable, forever lost.

It was better this way because Harry had always known, deep down, that he wasn't worthy of Severus's affection. He didn't deserve it; feeling like a burden in the shadows of his parents' sacrifice. The act of love that saved his life also robbed them of theirs. How could he ask for more when love had killed his family? How could he ask for a father, a third parent, when he already received so much as a mere baby?

Greedy. Broken. Freak.

It made him sick. He closed his eyes, leaned his forehead onto his knees, dove deeper into the numbness in his heart.

It was better this way.

Harry felt time passing as his body grew stiff from the cold. The sensation spread from his legs to his shoulders, reaching the tips of his fingers. He knew he was nearing the moment when he had to get up and return, but every additional second spent on the floor felt like a reprieve.

Sooner or later, somebody was bound to stumble upon him—whether it was Filch, one of the professors, or a ghost, someone would find him before the night was over. Just as Harry made peace with the idea of returning to the Tower, he heard a pair of steps in the distance getting closer.

Two sets of steps.

He quickly massaged his frozen thighs, willing himself to stand up. Though his joints and muscles protested, Harry's heart started to beat faster at the prospect of getting caught. But despite his rising panic and desire to avoid an encounter, he was quickly reached. Just as he put his foot forward, a voice boomed through the narrow corridor.

"Potter!"

Harry whipped around. It couldn't be.

Severus was advancing towards him like a black cloud, long strides making his cloak billow in the signature movement.

It wasn't just Harry's limbs that were frozen now, his blood likewise stopped circulating, heart ceasing all activity

It couldn't be.

But it clearly could, because Severus was just few feet away from him now. Their eyes met.

"Professor," Harry croaked, his voice as cold as his insides. Since Snape had reverted to using titles, halting the use of their sentimental names, Harry was sure to return the favour.

"Why are you not in your dorm?" The man asked, his tone carrying the usual condescending tune. "After tonight, I thought you realized how imperative it was for us to know about your whereabouts! Are you truly as imbecilic as you so often pretend to be?!"

Somehow, those black eyes, that unreadable expression and Snape's scolding voice were making Harry more nauseous than the vision about Nagini.

Pain turned to rage. Reprimands? That's all Severus had for him? It was like the Potions class all over again, not an ounce of care in his soul.

"Yeah?" Harry had to challenge back, acting tougher than he felt. "Well, what about your whereabouts, sir?"

Snape didn't show up when Harry needed him the most a few hours ago, who was he to berate him now? How dared he?

"Since you've washed your hands off me, I don't see how it's any of your business what I do or where I am! Getting to me through petty insults is the last thing you can do. Though, I'll have you know that throwing me out of your life was already more hurtful than anything else you could have said so it will be hard to outdo yourself!"

"Potter-"

Harry saw Snape wanted to say something, lips parted open, chest full of air. But he didn't let him, not yet. The anger was crawling out of him like roaches, tickling his vocal cords. This had to be settled, now.

"Yes, I know I'm still legally adopted by you, but it won't be long until we annul it, so there's no need for you to behave like a guardian anymore, Professor. I'll stop regarding you as a father, so let's cease this charade."

To Harry, it was obvious what Snape wanted to say; exploit the legal ties that still bound them together to gain an upper hand. Harry wouldn't let him. It would hurt too much, to have the last remains of their relationship used against him.

But instead of hatred, there was just bewilderment on Snape's face. His eyes were wide and confused, eyebrows almost touching his hairline. Harry didn't stop his speech to ponder on the expression.

"Potter, what-" the man hissed again, reaching to grab Harry's arm. Harry jerked away from the touch, backing several steps from him.

"I know you don't want me anymore, and I get it, but my night has been bloody terrible as it is, so can we just skip to where I get yet another detention and lose points and be on my merry way?" He finished talking, finally running out of steam.

He wanted to give the man a piece of his mind, but as cowardly as it was, he wasn't ready to hear his response. The bridge they've built between them over the last three years burned down to ash. Harry watched it crumble as every cell in his body was set ablaze. He never realized it was so fragile, but he should have known better. Life taught him as much.

"I'll come to clean your chambers of my things in the morning..." He added as an afterthought, his voice no longer loud.

This time, Severus interrupted him.

"I'm pleased to inform you that Mr Longbottom is gracing us with his presence," he growled nasally.

Harry blinked. All wind was suddenly taken from his sails, making him pause in his tracks.

"Err... What?"

Instead of answering, Snape stood aside. A stunned Neville was lingering a few feet away, jittering anxiously. When their eyes met, he spoke hastily.

"Hi H-Harry, I went to get Prof-Professor Snape like you asked me to but I couldn't find him-"

"I wasn't in the vacancy when Mr Longbottom sought me out," Snape drawled, cutting the stuttering explanation.

Harry immediately knew what it meant. Voldemort. He must have been summoned. Which brought back ministry, Mr Weasley, the vision. Did  Snape have anything to do with the incident?

"I came across him on my way back, as he was mindlessly searching the castle, looking for me."

Guilt encompassed Harry's senses. He glanced at Neville and saw a terrified boy in his pyjamas and fluffy slippers. Snape had always frightened Neville, and yet, the boy didn't hesitate (much) to fetch him for Harry. He even went to such lengths to scout the castle in case Snape was on duty.

"How-" Harry wanted to ask, but Snape's lifted palm silenced him.

"Be quiet," the man ordered, sounding exhausted as he pitched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "You've said more than enough just now, Harry."

The use of his name was so casual, blending in with the rest of the words like it belonged.

"Let's take this conversation elsewhere," Severus decided and started marching towards stairs that led to the dungeons. "You too, Mr Longbottom," he called without turning around when neither Harry nor Neville moved.

Harry gifted the other boy an apologetic glance, but didn't dare to open his mouth in fear of aggravating Severus - something he no longer wanted to do. Not when they were back on 'Harry' basis.

A tiny part of Harry asked if they'd ever stopped. He suddenly wasn't so sure as he banished the thought altogether.

He never thought he'd find himself in Severus's quarters sitting next to Neville. And yet.

Both were covered in blankets, each holding a steaming mug of tea; apple-cinnamon flavoured. Harry's favorite. Neville looked like he was ready to bolt. He flinched and murmured a startled 'Thank you, sir,'  when Severus handed him his cup. Harry's heart ached at the sight of his classmate being so jumpy.

He worried his lower lip between his front teeth as Severus sat across from them in his preferred armchair, a familiar frown skewing his eyebrows. His eyes met Harry's for a split second, making Harry bite down on his skin so hard the cinnamon taste mixed with copper.

Then, Severus turned his attention to Neville.

"Mr Longbottom."

It sounded like he was about to reprimand the boy for a failed potion.

"You've been subjected to witness and hear certain things earlier," the Professor continued in that detached, yet dangerous voice. Neville squirmed on the sofa, clutching the mug in his hands tighter.

"Mr Potter and I are indeed in a relation, but this must remain unknown to everybody," Severus turned to whisper threateningly.

Harry's palms balled into fists as he set his mug aside. Back at surnames again? He thought angrily. It was becoming increasingly hard to read the man. Not that Harry could ever disclose what Severus was thinking, but this was beyond any measure.

"So I'll make myself clear," the man continued, glaring daggers at Neville. "If you perhaps decide to inform someone of what you know, if you disclose it by mistake, if your mind is invaded and somebody finds out... you will suffer in a way you never thought possible, leaving you to wish for death. Am. I. Understood?"

By the end of the speech, Neville's body was shaking while he nodded his head vigorously.

Harry snapped again, red overcoming his brain.

"Will you cut it?" He growled, deciding to take his friend's side. Even when Snape's piercing eyes shifted to him, he didn't back down.

Neville was one of the few people who didn't think him a liar. One who didn't whisper under his breath. He checked on him, was fair to him, he went to find Snape for him despite the teacher being his boggart. Harry realized that Neville was feeling the same way he felt when he encountered Dementors. And Neville did it willingly that evening, just for him.

"Neville was just trying to help! He didn't ask to be dragged into this, you can't blame him for what he overheard. Moreover, what does it matter?!" Harry continued, rage causing his voice to gain decibels rapidly.

"What does it matter?" Severus echoed dangerously. "If Longbottom isn't to blame as you so vehemently claim, then you certainly are! If you kept our affairs in check, we wouldn't be here in the first place!"

"Given how short-lived our affairs are and the fact that we're going to annul the adoption soon, there's no need for you to treat Neville like a criminal! He doesn't deserve it. He's my friend, someone who was there for me, so the least you can do is to treat him with basic human decency!" Harry shouted. "Or is threatening and insulting truly all you can do, Professor?!"

Snape was quick to rise to his ruse.

"Ah? Is that so?" He drawled, a terrifying smirk curving the corners of his mouth. "I'm as close to treating Longbottom with basic human decency as you are to me. And since we're at the topic of discussing each other's behaviour, it's worth pointing out your attitude as well. For the past couple of weeks, all you've shown me was disrespect! You either snap or mop around, constantly wasting away! Is that all you can do, Potter?"

Harry felt his expression fall at that. His chest began to throb dully. But Snape was not done.

"What was that about annulling the adoption? You've accused me twice of abandoning you just in the past half an hour. May I remind you who ceased all his visits to my chambers? As you are already making the decisions for both of us, I don't see why I should bother anymore!"

Snape was on his feet, and so was Harry. They glared at each other, ragged breathing sounding in the space.

"That's right, you don't!" Harry whipped back. "You don't bother, you don't care, and I'm aware of how selfish I've been, but when I stopped coming over, you didn't reach out! And then you told me to leave your life! I'm sick and tired of being unwanted, it's all I've ever known! I thought it would be different with you, but you were too eager to give up on me as well!"

Harry yelled and yelled. It was like watching a mirror break. He saw his life shatter in front of him into a million pieces, knowing it was beyond repair.

"Join me, Harry..." yet again that disgusting sound torturing his eardrums.

"It felt unreal to finally belong, to have somebody... to have a parent, but you do not share the sentiments. If you did, why didn't you notice? You accuse me of wasting away and mopping around, alright! Did you try to look below the surface? I'm all alone, and you cut me out like the rest of the school! I'm lonely, and when I called for you this evening, you weren't there! And Vold- You-Know-Who keeps whispering in my mind, luring me to his side, and if I'm being honest, I've started considering it. And then the vision happened and I was the snake, you know? Nagini, I was Nagini and I attacked Mr Weasley... I almost killed Ron's dad! I almost... And- and I know how terrible it is to lose a father, given I lost mine twice, and I almost made Ron experience it too! What kind of friend does that? I'm becoming evil, and everybody cast me aside, and-and it's so damn depressing that I'm unworthy of your love... a-and... haaa..."

By the time Harry realized there was no air in the room, he was kneeling on the floor, clutching the fabric of his pyjama tightly. His muscles stopped working. He couldn't remember how to breathe. His mouth opened and closed like that of a dying fish.

Second panic attack in the last couple of hours, and way worse than when he was back at his dorm.

This was it. He lost everything, there was no coming back from this one. Harry was going to suffocate and die. A fittingly pathetic end for a fallen hero of the wizarding world. He would pass away and his problems would cease, it was better that way, it was—

"Harry, you're safe."

Foreign hands on his shoulders.

Soothing voice ringing in his ears.

Severus's concerned face coming to his field of vision.

"Focus on me, yes... Just look at me."

Harry tried, but his sight blurred occasionally and he had to blink a lot.

"Good... you're with me and you're safe," Severus repeated.

He grasped one of Harry's hands and rested it palm up against his chest.

"Can you feel it? Breathe with me," Severus instructed him gently.

Loud and quick heartbeat was pounding in Harry's ears but somehow Severus's soft voice managed to pierce through it. He felt the man's chest rise and fall against his touch, heat burning his skin despite the layers Severus wore. Harry drank all of it like a thirsty plant after a drought.

Bit by bit, his strained muscles relaxed, his lungs remembered how to breathe again, but it was a slow, deliberate process. Severus walked him through it with patience and tenderness, nudging Harry in the right direction, soothing him. "That's it, Harry," he encouraged. "Follow my rhythm, slowly. Just like that... focus... I'm here. You're safe."

It was a balm on Harry's soul, picking up the pieces of the broken mirror within him and glueing him whole again. Something he deemed impossible minutes ago.

"Dad..."

The word escaped his throat in an inaudible whisper as soon as Harry was well enough to speak. Or attempt it, anyway.

"Shh... yes, it's me. I'm not going anywhere," he hummed, and then Harry was drawn close. Face in Severus's robes, warmth on his cold skin, the scent of home filling his nose. He didn't hesitate to cling to it, to lose himself in it, throwing his hands around Severus in raw desperation.

His lifeline was back. Harry's branch snapped, and he fell, but Severus caught him. He wasn't alone.

"You silly child," Severus chided him. Long fingers slipped into Harry's hair and patted him in a steadily rhythmic motion. The other arm was on his back, rubbing slowly.

They stayed like that for eternity. Neither felt the need to speak, Harry was too busy soaking up the love he'd been missing for the last couple of tough weeks. He never wanted to let go of those black robes.

"Mr Longbot- " Severus opened his mouth at last, but then he cut himself off. He cleared his throat, a little hesitant before speaking again. "Neville."

Harry felt the vibrations of the man's chest against his face as Severus spoke. He completely forgot his friend was still there, sitting on the sofa behind Harry's back and having a front seat to the whole spectacle. A blush of embarrassment crept up his neck. Suddenly, there was more than one reason to never leave Severus's embrace.

"Yes, sir?" Neville replied, his tone oddly void of fear. What was present was pure bewilderment, and Harry became convinced his friend's mouth must have been gaping not long ago.

"I'd like to ask you to retreat for the night. I'm also appealing to you to not speak of anything you heard or saw in the last hour. Should you have any questions, kindly ask them discreetly, addressing Harry or me in private. Goodnight."

Harry had never heard Severus speak so civilly to any student, let alone Neville himself. His voice was measured but not emotionless or cold. It held sparkles of a genuine plea as if Severus was making a request instead of commanding the boy around. He even called him by his given name!

There was a murmur of "Of course, sir. Goodnight," shuffling of clothes, and finally, the door to Severus's chambers clicking shut.

Harry pushed back slightly while still keeping his arms loosely around Severus's torso, looking him in the eye. Severus stared back with a fatigued but worried expression.

"Why did you do that?" Harry asked, vocal cords hoarse.

"I believed we were past the point of requiring his presence. I'd have sent him away sooner but... my attention was fully occupied," Severus replied thoughtfully, careful to choose his words.

Harry shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Why did you call him Neville and were so... You know, human?"

There was a mild worry bubbling under the surface. Harry hated the thought, but he wasn't certain Severus didn't have interior motives with his friend. He would not be pleased to find Neville being made into a potion ingredient later.

Severus sighed and briefly closed his eyes.

"I was showing him basic human decency," he quoted Harry's earlier remark. "In hopes you'd give me the same courtesy."

Harry swallowed dryly, gaze drifting away from the man's face. He suddenly felt guilty.

"I'm sorry about that," he mumbled, fidgeting slightly.

"Hold your apologies until you know what you're apologizing for," Severus said, his hands ceasing contact with Harry. Harry did the same and retreated his touch, albeit very reluctantly.

They moved from the floor to the sofa, Severus draping a blanket around Harry and casting a warming charm on his forgotten mug of tea.

"I added a bit of calming draught," he remarked as he shoved the now steaming tea into Harry's rigid hands. "In an effort to prevent what has just transpired."

Harry blushed and took a large sip from his previously untouched beverage. He felt like the biggest fool in the world, acting like a five-year-old the whole evening, getting swayed by his emotions. But part of him still thought his behaviour was warranted.

Severus probably sensed his inner turmoil, because he briefly touched Harry's shoulder, earning his attention.

"You must be tired from everything that has happened, but there are things I wish to address immediately before sending you off to bed," the man said quietly, and Harry noticed how pale and hollow his face looked. Severus was exhausted himself. "It will make our sleep peaceful," he added.

Harry snorted into his cup. 'Peaceful sleep' did not exist in his dictionary anymore.

Severus yet again quickly caught on. "We'll discuss your sleeping habits tomorrow, worry not," he warned sternly.

"But now, I want to talk about... your feelings of negligence from my side. When has this started?"

Harry didn't expect such a complicated question right off the bat. Stalling for time, he sipped his tea and forced his mind to work again.

"The last time I was here," he replied simply, remembering how burdensome he felt when he visited Severus's chambers at the beginning of the semester.

Severus nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Was there a trigger? Something I've done?"

Another complicated question.

"I just noticed you weren't thrilled with my presence. I mean, you were snap-ish and irritated," he mumbled into the mug. "I decided to give you space since you looked like you needed it, being busy with Order and all."

Brief silence.

"I see. And when I didn't attempt to reestablish our contact, it just cemented your belief."

A quiet nod from Harry. At least Severus was quick to make the correct conclusion.

"Why... why didn't you?" Harry dared to ask.

He spent weeks racking his brain and agonizing for Severus to show him he cared. He waited for him to reach out, whether through a letter or direct approach after class... anything would do the trick.

"Will you believe me if I say it's for the same reason you stopped coming over? I wanted to grant you some distance, Harry. Considering everything that has happened..." Severus trailed off. Harry could feel him shift his weight on the sofa as if he was nervous. But Severus was never nervous.

"Really? Right now is the time I need you the most," he was speaking before he could ponder on it. "With everything that happened last year, and with what's happening now, I was hoping at least you wouldn't avoid me. Nobody believes me when I say Volde- You-Know-Who is back even though it's the truth and it's my fault-"

"It is not your fault," Severus interrupted firmly, turning his head to look at Harry who was now curled in a small ball on the sofa, looking more like a small, scared child.

"My reasoning behind thinking you needed space was of a much more innocent nature. There are things you don't discuss with me, Harry," Severus continued, not allowing any more self-deprecating talk. "Your godfather, for instance. Your friendships. Miss Chang. I don't pry, hoping you will open up if you need to. That does not mean I don't care, I do, but... you're a maturing boy. I want you to have freedom. I know little about how to cater to your emotional needs sometimes, but I try to remind myself how secretive I was at your age, and how much I longed for privacy. Other students do not have their parents here as professors, which allows more leeway. I simply didn't want to deprive you of that, I didn't want to make you feel as if I was monitoring your every step."

Harry listened mutely, mulling over Severus's words. It made sense when he put it that way - or it would make sense if Harry was a normal fifteen-year-old boy. Though, he wasn't.

"But I've never had this, you know?" He croaked back, unable to put a stopper on his continuously changing emotions. Swaying like a branch in a strong wind, Harry's insides trembled with sadness, grief, confusion and anger. A leaf of guilt began to grow on him too, which he stubbornly ignored.

"I finally have a parent, something I've always dreamed about, but your actions do not match your words. It's like I'm grasping for something just out of reach, only to find it slipping away each time. Having a father who does not show he cares is even worse than not having one at all, as I came to realize. Because at least then, there's clarity, an understanding of what's missing and why."

Severus listened without interruption, although his expression suggested he had to hold back a great deal. When Harry was done speaking, he was quick to use the opportunity of silence.

"That's precisely why I've been cautious with you, Harry. Because you've never had this. Consider where you've come from—the life you had before you found your way to me. You only knew nagging and ordering around, house chores and no bedroom. You were a small boy, yet so aged with neglect and hardship. Your shoulders were carrying a heavy load, I couldn't risk adding to that burden by being overbearing. And even now, as you've grown, as our relationship has evolved, I still can't afford to be. Because every word I say, every action I take, has the power to either lift you up or weigh you down further. And I've made it my solemn duty to ensure it's the former, not the latter. I want to give you the care and attention you deserve, but I fear suffocating you in the process."

Harry's frown deepened.

"Of course, you can be overbearing! I want you to," he snapped, the words escaping his lips with a heated intensity.

"Really?" Severus challenged with an undertone of firmness. "It seems you have forgotten the many occasions when I attempted to broach sensitive topics with you, only to be met with resistance. Mr Diggory's tragic demise, the depth of neglect you've suffered from your relatives... I tried to solve what you didn't want me to, and was met with walls so high I couldn't scale them."

Harry saw it wise to clamp his mouth shut momentarily, he briefly ran out of arguments. Severus had peeled back layers of his defences, exposing him to his own shortcomings.

"I did notice your deteriorating state. You stopped being responsive when I repeatedly insulted you during class. I watched you drag your feet from one place to another in the corridors, alone. You stopped eating properly, you isolated yourself. I watched it all and waited for you to come to me. But you didn't."

It wasn't an accusation, yet Harry took it as one. Everything below his feet was crumbling, his judgment of the last few weeks proving to be completely wrong.

"Because I thought I couldn't!"

Tension hung in the air. The cracking of the nearby fireplace was but a distant sound, not soothing the fragile peace in Harry's soul anymore. He no longer knew what to think or feel. His chest was a jumbled mess. Guilt. Remorse. Regret.

However, the impending argument didn't break out. Severus, unlike Harry, had a steel grip on his feelings.

"I am aware of that now. But until several minutes ago, I was clueless about all this, Harry. Please, try to understand me as well. My impression was wrong, but my objective was simple; to help you, even if it meant distancing myself. I'm sorry I misjudged the situation so severely."

Severus never apologized so openly before. They usually made silent truces or slept on their arguments, and Harry was the one saying sorry after.

"Then, today happened. Imagine my surprise; after no communication between us, you suddenly mention the annulment of the adoption. Your look was one of full resentment when you said it, and I couldn't understand why."

There was hurt in his voice. Plain and vulnerable. It slapped Harry like no hand ever could. The man went on.

"You've been my family for three years. It was perhaps naive to think that was enough time to convince you about the permanence of our arrangement.  We've had disagreements before, we had heated debates and screaming matches. We've said things we regret to each other, but you've never so blatantly pushed me away. Miscommunication is one thing, but I never told you to 'leave my life' as you put it earlier. I would never say that."

It was strange. Listening to the man speak caused Harry's heart to ache more than anything in the past months. He was under the impression that he was the one hurt by Severus, not the other way around. No. What hurt Harry was the uncontrollable anger within him, his quickness to jump to conclusions, to assume and deduce. And consequently, it also wounded Severus. His guardian. His father.

The fog inside's Harry chest started to lift, hot coals on his neck eased, fingers poking his eyes pulled away.

"But you threw me out," Harry dared to mumble, his last weak struggle to defend his thought processes. Even to his ears, it sounded strangled. A lie. Liar.

An exhale sounded from Harry's right. He seldom heard the man sigh, as it was a sign he was bothered. Or disturbed. Or frustrated. And that night, Severus was sighing a lot.

He didn't dare to look at him. Harry just stared at the fireplace, hypnotized by the flickering flame.

"Is this about Potions?" Severus asked and continued after receiving a weak nod. "Yes, I threw you out, because I had to. You snapped at me in a way I could not tolerate with an audience present. I hoped you'd clear your head with the time I provided and calm down. Nevertheless, I did not tell you anything of the sort to leave my life."

Harry gave him a nod. He didn't know what to say anymore. Just a couple of hours ago, he was convinced all their ties were inevitably severed. Yet, Severus was there with him, his thigh subtly touching his leg, radiating closeness. His father was right there, hurt and confused, fighting for their bond Harry so hastily deemed broken.

Idiot. I'm such an idiot.

"It is no lie that when it comes to expressing myself, I lack severely," Severus admitted into the prolonged silence. Harry was just relieved he didn't have to be the talkative one - he's already said too much. And felt every bit ashamed for it.

"I never expected to be a parent. I did not become a teacher out of my own free will, I did not enjoy children's company. It was part of a bigger plan. As everything in my life. I'm a mere pawn, for the Headmaster and the Dark Lord. My true purpose has been to protect you since that fateful day, as I've told you already."

"And now?" Harry asked, his voice very small. So young. So scared.

A hand rested on his back, drawing circles.

"Just because I never expected it doesn't mean it's something I had not wanted. I just... did not deem myself worthy or capable of ever loving someone after your mother's death. I was wrong."

Harry found himself holding his breath, afraid to move, afraid to break the moment. The hand on his back stilled momentarily.

"My desire to protect you is still there, the strongest that's ever been. It does not hang on a promise, it's built on a foundation of love. I care for you, Harry, even when I don't say it much. My primal instinct is to shield you from the world and its dangers. Daily, I fight the urge to pack our bags and leave somewhere far away. You make me feel a whole spectrum of emotions I thought were lost on me. Worry, fear, compassion, love. I want to see you happy, I want to see you thrive, and I wish to give you everything you were deprived of. Somehow, I'm failing at it abysmally."

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Harry saw the fireplace blur into a palette of red and brown colors, felt the tears freely flowing down his cheeks. He still didn't dare to breathe, not until his lungs forced him to. But as he opened his mouth, a sob inevitably escaped his throat, putting a stop to Severus's speech. Countless more followed. He couldn't stop.

"Dad, I'm so s-sorry, so sorry...I-I'm sorry...you are doing well, so well, it's me, I'm failing at being a good son..." he choked out.

I'm so stupid. Stupid. Foolish. Idiot. He cursed at himself hatefully, but the anger pulling him to the ground was dissipating. He had been so wrong. Wrong to push Severus away, to distance himself from the one person who had offered him unwavering support and love. Wrong to doubt Severus's intentions, to question the sincerity of his actions. Wrong to allow his own fears and insecurities to cloud his judgment, to dictate his actions and reactions.

And perhaps most painfully, wrong to make assumptions about Severus. He realized now how little faith he had placed in his father, how quick he had been to doubt and mistrust. How easily Harry cast himself away.

That vile, ugly thing around his heart turned into warmth, warmth that couldn't be touched. His father didn't waver despite Harry's misguided actions and hurtful words. Severus did not deem him unworthy of his love.

It made Harry sob harder.

Severus gently nudged him closer, until he was sitting in his lap, cradled like a small child.

"Shh... you're none of that, Harry. You're not failing at anything, just being my son is enough," Severus whispered into his hair. "I'll never wash my hands off you; I swear it. You're mine."

Harry could only repeat "Dad" endlessly in between his whimpers, trying to make up for all those times he had no one to say it to. He felt a little ashamed for acting so vulnerably, but he needed it so much. He wasn't only fifteen at that moment, he was also five; watching Petunia cuddle Dudley and yearning for the same, he was also eighth; witnessing his cousin fall off a bike and be carried by Vernon inside the house, he was also ten; locked in a cupboard, whispering a birthday song.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours; until Severus moved them from the sitting room to his bedroom. Harry wasn't sure how it happened, but he was sure his feet did not touch the ground.

Soft mattress, silk sheets, familiar presence that never left him. Harry's limp body relaxed under the comfort, his eyes slowly dried up from the tranquillity of the room. In the dim glow of the bedroom, Harry could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, every muscle in his body aching with weariness. He knew he should return to his dorm, should leave Severus to rest undisturbed, but the thought of leaving his father's side was unbearable.

"I have to go back," he rasped out once he was able to speak again.

Severus's response was immediate, firm. "Since you're currently lying in my bed, I thought it was obvious that you have to sleep. You are staying for the remaining four hours of the night."

Harry earned himself another deep sigh from his guardian, an umpteenth of that evening. Then, there was a gentle pressure on his shoulder, urging him to succumb to the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him.

"We both ought to state our intentions clearly from now on. I'm not sure I can handle another misunderstanding of this magnitude," Severus murmured with eyes shut. "I want you to rest here, now. I'll explain your absence to anyone relevant in the morning," he closed the subject.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, sniffling, his voice thick with emotion. Severus shoved a handkerchief into his face without a comment, a silent gesture of understanding and acceptance.

"There's one more thing that worries me," the man lying next to him said into the calming stillness of Severus's bedroom. Harry immediately tensed up as he wiped his nose and cheeks.

"You've mentioned something about being evil and the Dark Lord luring you to his side... as well as the vision you had tonight, about Nagini," he went on, poking into yet another topic Harry longed to fend off.

"Yes...?" he mumbled cautiously into the pillow, his words muffled by the soft fabric. He couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the direction the conversation was headed.

"I won't elaborate on how this could be directly linked to your mood swings, that is an affair for tomorrow," Severus reassured him. "I just want you to know this. You didn't cause the attack on Mr Weasley, you're not a bad friend to Ronald, and you're certainly not evil, Harry. I have seen you at your best. You're brave, loyal, and you've got a heart big enough to forgive and move on. You're a good person to whom bad things have happened."

A hand brought him closer, holding him protectively. "I will do my best to help you overcome the darkness, and I'll never give up on you," Severus whispered with a touch of unspoken promise. 

"We have a more in-depth conversation ahead of us in a few hours. There is also the urgency to restart our Occlumency lessons immediately..."

Harry let out a groan against the man's chest.

Severus continued, undeterred by Harry's protest. "...but we will discuss it later. For now, sleep," he declared with finality. With a wave of his hand, the candles in the room went out, enveloping them in comforting blackness.

"I'm so not looking forward to tomorrow," Harry murmured, already feeling the impending wave of emotions once he fully soaked up the events of the day.

"Do not let it concern you now, Harry. We'll face it later, together. Do you need a potion for sleep?" Severus asked tentatively. "Or more Calming Draught?"

"No, I'm fine." Your presence is more than enough.

"Alright then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Dad."

Harry finally allowed his eyelids to fall close. It was so peaceful. So quiet. So warm.

"Will you stay with me...?" his last shreds of consciousness asked.

"Always," Severus replied, but Harry was already asleep.

Neville's boggart changed in his fifth year.