The Summer We Went Mental by Whitetail
Summary: Being sent to stay in a psychiatric ward at St. Mungo’s isn’t exactly the most enjoyable way to spend a summer, so naturally, Harry’s pretty angry when he finds out that’s his destination, regardless of whether or not it might be good for him. Facing a full summer of being cut off from the Order’s plans, Harry’s even taken to envying Snape, because at least Snape knows what is going on. But when Harry arrives at St. Mungo’s and discovers that a fire has changed his destination from the teen ward to the adult ward, everything is turned upside down. Enter his roommate - suicidal, depressed, and none other than Severus Snape. They are both willing to bet that their summer will be a total disaster, and maybe it will be, but even the surest of gamblers are not always right.
Categories: Snape Equal Status to Harry > Comrades Snape and Harry Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Dumbledore, Original Character, Remus
Snape Flavour: Snape is Depressed
Genres: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Hospitalization
Takes Place: 6th summer
Warnings: Self-harm, Suicide Themes
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 35 Completed: Yes Word count: 109245 Read: 221822 Published: 14 Feb 2014 Updated: 03 May 2015
September: A Beginning's End by Whitetail

The first full day back had been long. At the start of it, morning had arrived harsh and bright in Harry's dormitory. All day, Ron and Hermione had been wonderful, only speaking of his summer when he brought it up. The others, not so much. The evening now seemed like a dark, denizen of the deep, rearing its ugly head in the form of the crowd in the common room. The muttering and the stares were nearly unbearable, and Harry was frustrated beyond belief that he'd gotten himself into this. So he fled to his dormitory. The summer, so terrible, and yet so wonderful, had faded to nothing but shame.

He didn't want to think this way. He knew that everything that had happened was important, whether it had been easy or not. Harry had learned so much, and he'd built long term relationships he hadn't had before. He now had an ongoing connection with Richard, his healer. He'd found a guardian in Severus, and a friend in Stephen. Even Daisy would probably show up from time to time given her friendship with Severus. Harry's existing friendships with Ron and Hermione had been strengthened too. He'd learned to lean on them, instead of always fending for himself. Overall, he'd gained a lot.

Still, despite all of this, he felt just plain stupid. Right now he felt that if he'd just hidden all his problems, things would be easier. Hogwarts had always been home, but right now, it seemed almost unbearable. It wasn't like anyone was being mean. It was more like he was a zoo animal, being peered at and tiptoed around as though he were prone to biting.

Harry collapsed on his bed, tears prickling at his eyes and anger at himself pressing so hard into his chest that it was getting hard to breath. He recognized the warning signs, and he knew deep down his thoughts were irrational. That he shouldn't feel shame for what happened. So, in a fit of restlessness, he dove for the small suitcase he'd brought from Grimmauld Place and ripped it open, meaning to unpack as a distraction. What he saw, lying folded on his things, made the world grind to a stuttering, blissful halt.

Even though he had not packed it, the denim quilt from Grimmauld Place was pressed neatly in with his things. There was a note, tucked into one of the worn blue jean pockets. He recognized the handwriting, and with shaking hands, he read it.

 

You know where I am if you need me, but I thought this would help on bad days. We are both going to have them. It is what we do with them that matters.

 

Take care,

Severus

 

Harry set the note down on his bed gently, and with the world still silent around him, he lifted the blanket out of the suitcase. Severus must have slipped it in there last night, when he wasn't looking.

 He remembered the way Severus had thrown the quilt at him, so gruff and yet comforting on the day Harry had crept into the sitting room, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his old ways. Severus had hardly spoken, but Harry remembered the way he'd looked. He remembered the understanding. The lack of judgement.

Harry wrapped the frayed quilt around his shaking shoulders, cold water pouring through his limbs, quenching the fire, and erasing the shame. He sunk down in his bed.

"It's what we do with ‘em that matters," he muttered into the quilt, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

It was the lesson some spent their whole lives learning, and even then, some never did. But it was worth it. Harry was sure of that now. Wrapped up in the quilt, remembering all the bad days he and Severus had gotten through, he had a sneaking suspicion that he had unknowingly helped Severus learn this lesson too. In fact, he was sure of it, and Harry smiled in spite of himself.

After all, he'd had crazier ideas, hadn't he?

 

 

***

 

Severus was hard at work the evening after his first classes, restocking his desk drawers with new quills and fresh ink. He rummaged through old papers, cleaning up the mess that he'd let accumulate during the awful days following his release from the hospital wing. He sipped a glass of brandy quietly, a rare treat. The old record player he'd enchanted long ago hummed away, playing familiar muggle tunes he remembered Lily putting on in her bedroom in those old days, back when they were still fourteen and so full of life.

Somehow the songs brought him back to that vigour, and he caught himself smiling as he shuffled through old marked assignments, humming along mindlessly. Then, his hand brushed across something, obviously replaced some time ago, sitting in the wrong drawer of his desk. The silver gleamed, the monogrammed S.S. on the letter opener shining brightly up at him. He glanced down at it, a strange longing crawling over his skin again, like it had at the start of the summer when Dumbledore had found it in his pocket that horrible night.

The song on the record player came to a close, leaving only crackling silence, and then nothing.

With a huff he slammed the drawer, and went over to the crate on his chair to find a new record, fingers shaking. He rubbed his hand along his ribs, closing his eyes.

 

***

 

He arrived at Dumbledore's office at eight-o-clock the same evening, his leather briefcase in one hand and a tired sigh on his lips.

"Enter," Dumbledore said.

Severus took a cautious step into the room. Like an anxious schoolboy he stood shaking at the threshold, staring at Dumbledore behind the desk.

"Come in, my boy, don't be shy," Dumbledore said with a broad smile, warmth in his eyes.

It was the first thing he'd said to Severus as a student, the very first time he'd come by Dumbledore's office with a request. As Severus sunk down into the chair opposite Dumbledore, he thought of that time all those years ago, when he had come to ask if he could be allowed into the advanced potions club, even though he wasn't quite old enough. The answer had been yes. For the longest time it had been the only moment Severus was sure Dumbledore believed in him, before he grew embittered by ignored bullying reports, and unnoticed bruises.

"Here are my plans," Severus said, thrusting a thick folder of files at Dumbledore. "For the Abuse Seminar."

"Ah, excellent," Albus said, peering through his half-moon glasses and flipping through the papers. "We have it scheduled for the staff on September 10th. Did you still want to speak? Joseph, as I am sure he's mentioned, will be doing a segment on the psychology often seen in the abused. While you need not mention your own childhood experiences, I think it would be very helpful to the staff if you would go through the signs most often seen in students here."

"Of course."

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes rather sad. "Thank you, Severus, for suggesting this. We should have been doing this a long time ago. I suppose ... I was behind the times ... too optimistic, before. Abuse is an ugly truth."

Severus nodded, unable to speak.

"How was your first day back?" Albus continued.

"Strange," Severus said, picking at the wood on Dumbledore's desk, something Albus thankfully ignored. "It seems everyone knows what happened this summer. The students were oddly well behaved. I am not sure if I should be offended or grateful for their obedience."

"I suspect they mean well," Albus said quietly. "And Harry?"

"I have only seen him at a distance, since last night. He is coming by for tea tomorrow, but he looks to be doing alright. A little anxious, perhaps. Understandable."

The rest of the visit passed in trivialities. Little was said about the summer, and when Severus stood up to leave, Albus did so as well.

For a second, Severus hesitated, and then he pulled the box out of his briefcase, and set it on the table for Dumbledore. Severus wiped his sweaty hands on his robes.

"What is this?" Albus asked.

"A gift. For you."

Albus looked aghast, but in a good way. He untied the ribbon on top - black, salvaged from a set of quills.

The open box revealed the letter opener, lying still in a nest of fabric. Albus didn't speak, his eyes full of tears. Severus made to step away and leave, but before he knew it Albus had come around the side of his desk, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Before all this, Severus would have resisted. Pushed Albus away, even. But now, he didn't. Instead, Severus wrapped his arms around Albus too, and pressed his eyes into his shoulder, trembling silently.

There were no words to say, but that was alright. The gesture was all they needed.

And maybe that was all Severus had needed in the first place. A reminder that someone was there. That there was still someone who would hold him if he fell, no matter how far, no matter how hard. Maybe that had been all Potter had needed too.

Whatever the answer, Severus really wasn't sure how he'd made it through the summer. How he had ended up with so much after losing everything. But as he crept through the dark Hogwarts halls that night, thinking of lemon drops, and denim quilts, scars, and letter openers, he realized that maybe it was the darkest nights that brought the strongest flame. And yes, there would be days when it was a battle. When nothing seemed to be going right. Severus knew very well there could easily come a time when he dreamt of the tower and wanted more than anything to fall like a shooting star, burn up in the atmosphere - leave nothing behind.

But now, at least, he knew one important thing he hadn't that night. Severus knew now that it was never too late. That no matter how hard it was, there were ways to survive, and that going a little mental wasn't the end of everything. Sometimes, the fall was just a beginning.

The End.
End Notes:
Thank you so much for everyone who has stuck with this (and for those who bother reading my notes, haha). This story was THE hardest for me to keep going with, of all the projects I have done. Almost nothing came easy, even at the start. After all, it sat on my hard drive almost three years before I could get it going. But I am so glad I did. I'm still not sure of the ending, but here it is, and I hope you've enjoyed the ride. This story was for all you readers, truly. For all you reviewers - you are amazing. Fantastic. Stupendous. Also - I suspect I will not be doing any stories for a while. I'm happy to say I have an original book close to being ready to give to beta readers. Whether it goes anywhere or not, it will be taking up a lot of my time. But I always keep a blurb on my bio with my current projects - so if you like my work, check there for news on latest fics. Cheers, all!


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