Over the next two weeks, Harry learnt what rest actually meant. He wasn’t anyone’s house-elf, his scar didn’t hurt and he wasn’t busy thinking about having to kill Voldemort. He still wasn’t ready to receive visitors, but that would come, he was sure.

Harry spent most of the days talking to a guy called Mikas, a psychologist. It had been weird at the beginning, but after a while Harry enjoyed the feeling that someone was actually listening to him. Without assuming, without interrupting, but simply validating what he had said. Every day he felt a bit better and truly felt that he was finally on the mend.

He understood that he was not responsible for anyone's death. And he was able to talk about Sirius again. It was difficult, because he had never before allowed himself to grieve. But it was even more difficult not to talk about him. Not speaking of a deceased loved one was like denying that they ever existed.

Snape, however, had unfortunaly decided that his idea of recovery was to become the same angry and bitter man that he had been before Nagini bit him. Maybe a little less bitter. A little less angry. But still, it was sad to watch. Harry had hoped that Snape would also let the past be the past and start to look forward to life, but instead the Potions Master had decided to spend hours every day on rebuilding his occlumency shields and tucking everything away that threatened to eat him up. His “therapy” sessions were surprisingly short and the staff were increasingly impatient with him.

Harry wondered how long they would keep him him here, until one day, two weeks after Vernon had attacked him, he was taken by surprise.

Coming in the room after a bland hospital lunch, he saw Snape sitting cross-legged on his bed. Next to him was an almost empty bottle of wine that McGonnagal had brought him a few days ago when she had told him he was freed of all charges. In front of him was a large file. Harry was taken aback. He recognised that this was Snape’s file; he had seen it every morning. The patients didn’t get access to their files until the day they were released. When he realised what that meant, he was so shocked that he had to sit down.

“They are letting you out?” he demanded, unable to banish the astonishment from his voice.

“Yes,” said Snape simply, after not reacting at first. He was in one of those moods that Harry didn’t like at all. Words took ages to reach him and he was unpredictable.

“I don’t believe it. How can they honestly think that I’m even more messed up than you are?”

“Jealous, Potter? Got that trait from your father.”

“Oh, come on, when will you stop comparing me to my parents? I’m more than my father’s appearance and my mother’s eyes.”

“Correct,” answered Snape sarcastically. “You forgot the scar.”

“Why are you still doing that?” Harry asked in a tone of resignation.

“Are you scared I could start liking you or something?”

Harry saw how Snape clutched the file and his knuckles went white.

“Or do you think that everyone you may get attached to will end up dead? Do you still believe that?”

Harry sighed. “Voldemort is gone. He and his Death Eater pals killed everyone, you did not. You were on the good side. Stop blaming yourself for things you didn’t do. Honestly, it’s ridiculous. You just stay in the past and relive your sandpit arguments over and over again.”

Harry fell silent. He didn’t know what else to say. Snape was back to reading his file. Some pages he just flicked through, others he read a few times. Without looking, he cast a refilling charm to the wine and poured another glass.

Snape’s face was bare of any expression, but with every page he got paler. Then he kept going back to the same one to stare at a picture. Finally, he shut the file and glared at Harry.

“Hold on…” Harry’s eyes fell on the file and then back to Snape’s face. “They gave you your file and they let you out today?” Harry looked around the room and saw that everything was packed. It looked empty.

“Is that so difficult to comprehend?”

“It is actually. No one believes that you are any better, am I right?”

“What makes you think that, Potter?”

“What are your plans… for the future I mean?”

“None of your concern.”

“Oh yes, like you loving my mum was none of my concern, either?” Harry felt anger boiling up in him and he didn’t even know why. Harry stood up and towered over Snape.

“You don’t have any plans… And you didn’t even try to cooperate. I thought you were brave…”

“Are you calling me a coward?” He spat the word and Harry remembered how furious Snape had gotten when he was called that.

“What is it about that word that gets you so angry?”

“Shut up! You have no idea-”

“THEN TALK TO ME!”

Snape grimaced and and rested his head on his hand. Harry wasn’t finished.

“You know why you are being discharged? Not because they think you are fit for the world but because THEY HAVE GIVEN YOU UP!”

Finally, Harry had managed to get Snape out his reserve. The former Potions Master smashed his glass against the wall and jumped up.

“Why do YOU care?” he shouted and Harry saw the same pain flicker in his eyes.

Harry raised his hands, hoping for that to have some kind of calming effect.

“I just do. I care. Is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s not hard to believe, no. But it is the wrong thing to do, do you understand that?”

Harry shook his head in confusion. “No I don’t, but I really want to. You just want me to give you up, like everyone else always does.”

“Quit your sentimental blabbering,” he snapped angrily but then sat down and fell silent for a while. Harry knew that something important would follow. He was also sure that he didn’t want to hear it.

“Listen, Potter, and I will only say this once,” Snape started and his body stiffened as he tried to regain some control, “I know what you are doing. You are making an honourable attempt. Gryffindor-worthy. You are the first one who ever did, but even you will not succeed. You are not chosen for everything and I am not the good person you believe me to be.” He took a deep breath.

“You are trying to find a strong and responsible adult, in muggle words, a father figure, who will help you to overcome the true horrors you have experienced since you were fifteen months old. And… do not take this personally, but you see, even now I-“ His voice broke and he had to pause and swallow before he could finished the sentence. “Even now, I am unable to bring myself to speak out your first name. Whatever you are seeking… “ Another pause. “Whoever you are looking for, it cannot be me.”

Snape rose from his bed, put a shrinking charm on his belongings and tucked them in his robe. He left the file.

When he walked past Harry, who was still dumbstruck, he put a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed it. Then he turned around one last time.

“Good luck in becoming an auror.”

Harry pushed away the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Goodbye, Severus,” Harry said quietly and he saw the slightest tremble in the man's scrawny figure.

“You will do well. Don’t go looking for me.”

Those were the last words Harry heard from him for a long time.