It took Severus well over fifteen minutes to let Harry go. He had been too close to losing the boy. Now that Harry was past the worst of it, Severus never wanted to let him go.

"Um, sir?" Harry finally said. "You can let me go now." Severus sighed, but complied with Harry's request.

"Harry," he said pointedly.

"I'm not going to kill myself just because you let me go!" Harry whined, sounding guilty. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Severus prompted. Harry didn't answer. "Harry, I'm so, so sorry. Promise me you will never, ever try suicide again." Harry shook his head.

"I won't make a promise I can't keep," Harry rasped. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," Severus whispered. "Please. What promise can you make?"

"I won't kill myself today," Harry promised.

"That's a beginning," Severus approved, but his voice belied how much he wanted a better promise. "Oh, Harry," he sighed. He blamed his exhausted state for the unseemly show of emotions. "Harry, can't you promise me more than that? Can you promise to talk to me next time, before you do it? Even if you can't promise there won't be a next time? Harry, I need your word." Severus gaze searched Harry's face expectantly. He considered using legillimancy but decided against it. He could tell if Harry was lying without it. Harry looked away, and seemed about to be ill.

"I'm sorry," Harry choked out, beginning to cry. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. You've always been good to me, and I don't want to lose that. I am sorry. I won't do it again, I promise. I promise." He threw himself at Severus. Despite having just asked to be released, when Harry launched himself at him, Severus positioned himself on the couch next to his son and comforted him.

"Shh," Severus hushed a sobbing Harry. He rubbed circles on Harry's back. "It's all forgiven. I want you to come talk to me if things start spiraling out of control again, alright?" Harry nodded into Severus' shirt. "Everything will be fine."

"I'm so sorry," Harry sobbed again.

"I forgave you," Severus reminded him.

Severus was careful to not leave Harry alone after that. When he had to step out of the house for something, he either brought Harry along, or placed a monitoring spell on him. If Harry did anything self-destructive, the spell would let him know and he would be back at Spinner's End in a heartbeat. Nothing was going to take his son from him. Nothing. Not even Harry himself.

The days passed pleasantly. Severus and Harry didn't speak of the incident, at least not much. Severus didn't want to remind Harry of it, and Harry didn't volunteer much. Severus was saddened that Harry didn't trust him more. He supposed it was understandable, considering how his previous comment had hurt the boy.

Harry was willing to move his bed frame into Severus' room, though. Like they had in his chambers at Hogwarts, the two beds were close, about a meter apart. Severus supposed they slept peacefully enough, except for the nightmares that occurred, every night. One of them would have a dream, at least, without fail. Severus appreciated having Harry there to offer a friendly hand, he found. It was a blessing.

Mid-July approached.

"Harry," Severus began casually over breakfast. "I was thinking. Your birthday is coming up. What would you like to do to celebrate?"

"My birthday?" Harry asked guardedly. Then he shrugged. "Nothing." Severus snorted.

"Honestly, Harry," he prompted. "You can see I don't have a lot of funds at my disposal, but I want to do something for you. I save money for things like this. You don't have to worry about that."

"I'm not," Harry said. "I just don't want to do anything."

"Why's that?" Severus asked.

"I just don't," Harry snapped defensively. "Leave me alone. Please."

"Harry," Severus said, his voice taking a warning tone. "Last time I did that, it didn't work out so well. You remember, I trust?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled into his food. He seemed to have suddenly lost his appetite. "May I be excused?"

"Yes," Severus agreed, and Harry went to his room. Well, Severus' room, technically. The room with his bed. Severus let him have some space.

Harry sat on his bed, swinging his legs, a deep frown on his face as he thought about what Snape had said. He didn't want to celebrate his birthday, not because he was concerned about Snape's finances, but rather because he remembered how his birthday was observed the year before. He shuddered, thinking about it.

Snape didn't know. He didn't know when Vernon had started in on him, except it had been sometime during the summer. How was he supposed to explain to Snape? Tell the man that he was mental enough for a "happy birthday" to throw him into a flashback?

He'd be turning sixteen in a few days. Most boys didn't have to worry about these sort of things. They had school, yes, but they never had had a crazed murderer after them, and most boys had a good family, from the beginning. Some even had girlfriends. Ron did. Harry idly wondered if he'd ever have a girlfriend.

He wasn't sure he could handle one, honestly. If a simple "Happy birthday, Harry!" threw him into a fit, what would a full on girlfriend do? Harry sighed, wondering why his life had to be so difficult.

After a few minutes, Harry came out of the room and joined Snape in the kitchen.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Snape said softly.

"You didn't," Harry lied. Snape shrugged.

"Why don't you want to celebrate your birthday? I was under the impression that you quite liked festivities." Then it was Harry's turn to shrug.

"Please don't pry," he requested. "Just things."

"Does it have something to do with your relatives?" Yeah.

"I guess so," Harry said smoothly. "They never acknowledged it. I'm not sure I want to change that." Oh, yeah, Vernon acknowledged it. Snape looked at him strangely, like the man knew he was lying. Well, maybe he did. But he didn't say anything. Just grunted and changed the subject.

Later that day, Snape broke a comfortable silence with, "Harry, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Of course," Harry replied sincerely.

"Alright," Snape said, concern furrowing his brow. "Just as long as you know."

Snape didn't bring up birthdays again for a couple days.

Then, the day before the seventh month died, "Harry, I'm not trying to pry. Please, won't you tell me why you don't want to celebrate your birthday?"

"I told you," Harry growled. "I don't want to talk about it!" And with that, Harry stormed out of the living room.

Harry had begun to recede into himself, Severus realized, after the boy had left the room so abruptly. Something was eating at him, and he wouldn't talk about it. There wasn't much Severus could do to help him if Harry wouldn't talk! It was just getting worse, and it had all started when he asked about birthday plans. It wasn't like Harry to be this way. Severus wanted to let it blow over as a teenage phase, but his gut was telling him to pay more attention than that. As the rationalist he was, Severus turned the page of his paper, and dismissed the matter from his mind. Harry knew he could talk to him any time he liked.

Something stirred in Severus' mind as he thought of all the times that Harry could have talked to him about his problems and didn't. What made him think this was any different? Harry might resent him for awhile, but Severus knew he had to demand answers. It had been a month since his suicide attempt, and Severus hadn't seen any more plans of a suicide. Harry's surly attitude might just be strange teenage hormones at work, but then again, maybe not. Not willing to risk it, Severus got up and silently stalked down the hall.

The door to Harry's room was closed. Harry's room, not the room they shared. Severus put his ear to the door. He heard quiet sobbing from inside. Quietly, he knocked.

"Go away!" Harry sobbed.

"Harry, may I come in?" Severus asked, reminded of the last time they had this conversation. Only this time, Severus didn't feel he had wronged Harry in any way, recently at least.

"No, I said go away!" Harry shouted back, his tears evident. It struck Severus as odd. Usually if he asked a second time, Harry gave in.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Severus asked, concern lacing his voice.

"It's fine," Harry lied. "I can work through it on my own."

"You don't have to, you know," Severus replied quietly, but still loudly enough that his voice carried. Harry cried harder. Something struck Severus as wrong. Harry wasn't acting normally, and Severus didn't know what to do about it. It was still Harry's room, yes, but it wasn't where Harry usually retreated. Now, he went to Severus' bedroom. It wasn't like Harry to cry in his room in the middle of the day without seeming provocation. It wasn't like him to deny Severus access to him after multiple attempts. Something wasn't adding up, and Severus didn't like it. He tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. Severus swore.

Now he was really concerned. Harry never locked his door. Ever. He was almost phobic about locks. Severus drew his wand and cast a quick "Alohomora." Afterwards, he was glad he did.

Harry sat on the floor, his back against the wall, sobbing his eyes out. His knees were up close to his chest, and he held a knife in his right hand. As soon as he saw Severus, Harry shot to his feet.

"Don't come near me," Harry warned, though he hadn't stopped crying. He positioned the knife against his heart.

"Harry," Severus said imploringly. Then, "Expelliarmus!" The knife shot out of Harry's hand into Severus'. Harry sank to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he moaned. Severus threw the knife to the other side of the room and knelt by Harry. "I wish I knew how to fix myself. I want to die one minute and then the next I don't. I'm sorry."

"I know you are," Severus murmured, taking Harry by the shoulders, pulling him close. "I think we need to do something about this though. I won't lose you."

"What do you mean? Send me to an asylum where I belong?"

"No!" Severus hissed. "I've been thinking about it for awhile now. This only confirms it. I think you should see a mind healer. This is beyond what I can help you with."

"You want me to see a bloody shrink?" Harry gasped.

"Language," Severus warned halfheartedly. At least Harry could swear. Rumor had it the dead told no tales. He doubted they swore either. "Yes, I think you should."

"I'm fine!" Harry argued.

"You just told me you weren't," Severus pointed out. "You've tried to kill yourself, twice now! How fine is that?" Harry rested his forehead against Severus' shoulder.

"It's not," Harry moaned. "God, I'm just a crackpot."

"No, you're not," Severus assured him, helping him to his feet. "I will see you through this, even if I can't be everything you need. I will not let you die, whether at your own hand or someone else's. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded.

"I've invested too much in you to lose you now." Harry nodded again. Severus began to escort Harry from the room. Harry paused.

"Tonight will be a year ago," he murmured.

"Pardon?" Severus asked. He'd heard, he just didn't understand.

"The first time," Harry clarified, and understanding dawned on Severus. He placed a gentle arm on Harry's shoulders and they walked to the living room, and sat on the couch.

"Is that why you're reluctant to celebrate your birthday?" Severus asked quietly.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, unable to meet his eyes. He looked away, and his breath hitched. Severus held him close.

"You can tell me about it, if you like," Severus offered.

"He told me happy birthday," Harry sobbed, "at the end." For a few minutes, Severus let Harry cry.

"Would it help if you showed me?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Legillimancy," Severus clarified.

"God, no!" Harry spat. "I'm having a hard enough time dealing with Vernon having raped my body. You want to remind me of all those times you raped my mind?" Severus stiffened, paled, and swallowed. He thought about what to say for a moment.

"I'm sorry you thought of it that way," he finally said.

"That's what it was!" Harry sobbed, still letting Severus comfort him. "You forced entrance into my mind. What's the difference?"

"There isn't," Severus whispered, feeling truly dirty. He sighed, "I don't know why you keep me around, sometimes."

"Same reasons you keep me, I suppose," Harry replied.

"It can be a healing experience to show someone the memories," Severus continued, dropping the subject. "It doesn't have to be me; it could be the mind healer. I highly recommend you show someone though."

"If I show you..." Harry began, "...will it hurt?"

"The only reason your Occlumency lessons hurt was because I was being ruthless - as I knew the Dark Lord would be - and you were resisting me, as well you should have. If you wish to show me, I promise on my life that I will be gentle." Harry laughed humorlessly.

"That's what he said, you know."

"Explain," Severus demanded.

"Vernon told me that it wouldn't hurt so much if I wasn't fighting him. He told me he'd be gentle." Severus hissed under his breath.

"Don't compare me to your fat lout of an uncle, or I swear, I'll become a necromancer just so I can kill him myself." Harry laughed darkly.

"I could see you doing that too."

"Because I would."

"I'll show you."

"You don't have to, you know. Especially if that's how you feel about those sorry excuses of lessons. I understand."

"No, it's fine," Harry said, though his voice was stilted. "I trust you. Now."

"Alright," Severus agreed. "What, exactly, will you be showing me?"

"What happened on my birthday last year," Harry said sorrowfully. "After the clock struck midnight."

"Perhaps you should show me what happened before, as well," Severus suggested. "It may present a clearer understanding of the rest of the events." Harry nodded.

"How do we begin?" he asked.

"I would say, sit close to me, but I believe you're already doing that," Severus said. "I need to reach your temples to do this properly." They shifted position so that Harry was between Severus' knees, Harry's back to Severus' chest. Harry let his head loll backward, resting it on Severus' shoulder. It wasn't lost on Severus just how much trust Harry would have to have in him to willing accept such a compromising position. He gently touched Harry's temples and entered his mind.

Harry showed Snape the events that led up to being trapped in Vernon's bedroom. The pizza, the dusting. He showed Snape, in graphic detail, how Vernon had gone about it the first time. He showed Snape that after the climax, Vernon had whispered, "Happy birthday, Harry," and how he had sobbed silently after that.

Harry lay awake for some time after that. Eventually, exhaustion claimed him.

The morning of the thirty-first of July dawned brightly. Vernon shook Harry awake, and forcefully claimed what he desired of the boy.

"I don't want to get rough with you," Vernon warned, when Harry objected. "I want to be gentle."

When the deed was done and Harry felt properly sick, he prepared to slip off the bed, eying the pile of clothes that were still on the floor from the night before. Mentally, he was making relieved plans for a good, long shower, so he could get Vernon's smell off of him, scrub all the reminders away.

"Where are you going?" Vernon asked, grabbing Harry by the wrist. Harry froze, terrified.

"I was going to get dressed, sir, and make your breakfast," Harry almost whimpered, though Vernon's voice hadn't been threatening per se.

"It's your birthday, though, isn't it?" Vernon asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry confirmed.

"Then this is a special day for you, and we should treat it as such," Vernon leered.

"You've never observed my birthday before!" Harry objected desperately. "Can't I just make you breakfast like always, and then go for a walk? Please?" Vernon got up from the bed and stood in front of Harry, taking him by the shoulders, gently.

"You weren't my beautiful slut before," he whispered, kissing Harry's lightning bolt scar.

"And I'm not now!" Harry shouted, backing up. He hit the wall sooner than he had anticipated, and Vernon stepped close to him, blocking his view of the rest of the room

"Aw, come on, Harry," Vernon whined. "It's not that bad. Just don't fight me, okay? I'll be gentle."

"But I don't want to - "

"No, please!" Harry begged immediately. "Don't make me do this, please! I'm just a kid! You're an adult. It's wrong to do this to me!"

"You're fifteen this year, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"In Jewish culture, a boy becomes a man at thirteen, you realize. In the middle ages, boys your age were married, maybe even with children already. You're not a child, Harry."

"I'm not a Jew in the middle ages!" Harry pleaded, but already knew it was useless.

"Let's go downstairs and get some breakfast before we start having more fun," Vernon suggested. Harry ducked to his pile of clothes.

"No, no," Vernon laughed. "It's just you and me in the house, isn't it? What are you suggesting you should cover? I've seen everything already."

"It's my birthday, isn't it? Can't I wear what I want?" Vernon grabbed him by the wrist and Harry dropped the clothes. He looked at them longingly, but followed Vernon downstairs. They made breakfast together in the nude, and Harry ate what would probably have qualified as his best meal at the Dursleys. He felt guilty that his food should come at such a price. Harry just picked at his food, not really wanting to put anything into his soiled mouth. He felt impatient with himself for not taking advantage of being fed for the first time in his life.

"Eat, Harry," Vernon instructed as he scrutinized Harry. Harry shrugged, but still picked at his food, feeling very self-conscious, sitting naked in the kitchen. Vernon, sitting at the end of the table and Harry sitting to his right, reached out and grabbed Harry by the neck, just below the base of his skull. Harry stiffened, memories of the many other times Vernon had grabbed him like that flooding back.

"I told you to eat," Vernon growled threateningly. "You'll need the strength for later this morning and afternoon, trust me." Then, loosening his grip, "I've told you; I want to be gentle. It's your birthday. Let me be gentle." Harry brought the fork to his mouth and ate. There were bigger things to argue about than the food.

Later, Vernon shooed him back to the bedroom. Harry argued the whole way there.  Vernon forced him to the bed, and proceded to violate him again.  Harry felt humiliated as he, the Boy-Who-Lived, the savior of the wizarding world, was, once again, twice in twenty-four hours, overpowered by a mere Muggle.  Time seemed to slow, but Harry was grateful when that round of torture was finally over.

"It's not about the sex," Harry sobbed "It's about the power you wield over me. That's what you really get off on. The power. Not the sex. The power."