Later that week, Harry was back at Sylvia's for another session. Things had been quiet between him and Snape. They hadn't spoken of the session at all. Snape didn't ask, and Harry didn't volunteer anything. But, three days later, at the same time, they were in the waiting room of the therapy clinic.

"Harry?"

Harry's head shot up and he met Sylvia's eyes for a moment. He really liked it that she came out to call him herself and not some person bringing him to her. It gave him the illusion that she cared. It was probably meant to do that. He rose and followed Sylvia into the back, but not without a quick glance at Snape. Snape nodded at him and went back to his reading.

When Sylvia and Harry got to her office, Harry sat down on her couch again, like he did before. Almost immediately, she threw the putty at him. He was ready this time, and caught it easily.

"How have things been since the last time I saw you?" she asked.

"Fine, I guess," Harry shrugged, beginning to play with the putty, not making eye contact.

"How are things with Snape?" Sylvia asked. "Any better?"

"They're okay, I suppose," Harry said. "Nothing much changed. We didn't talk about the comment after what you saw. Do you think he forgave me?"

"I think he forgave you the moment you made the comment," Sylvia said. "I think it's himself he won't forgive."

"So I just made his life harder, again," Harry concluded, putting his elbow on the arm of the couch and bracing his cheekbone against his fist as he turned the putty over in his hand.

"You've also made his life better," Sylvia reminded him. "Everyone is human, and we all make each others' lives harder, but we should also try to make their lives better. And we know we're going about it right when we make their lives more better than more harder, if you'll pardon the pathetic grammar."

"So...do you think I've done that?"

"Absolutely. Snape is much better man because of you. Don't even dare to think that he would be better off without you, because he wouldn't be. If anything, you're the therapy he's never gotten for himself. He can see that you need it, even if he's never gotten it."

"You think he needs therapy too?" Harry chuckled. "I don't think he would appreciate you saying such things."

"I really don't care what he would appreciate," Sylvia dismissed. "But we're not here to discuss his state. We're here to discuss you. When Snape is ready, he'll come see me himself. I believe we were talking about your relatives last time. You said that Snape had discovered the abuse, and a blood adoption was performed to maintain the wards. What did you think about that at the time?"

"It was terrible, and wonderful," Harry admitted candidly. "I was terrified, because this is Severus Snape we're talking about, and I thought he hated me, and I did hate him, but I was relieved in a way too, because I knew I didn't have to go back to the Dursleys."

"Did you think living with Snape would be an improvement on your previous accommodations?"

"Yes," Harry answered immediately. "And, well, no," he amended. "Better in some ways, I thought. I hoped. I thought he'd beat me."

"But he never did?"

"No," Harry said emphatically. "He's never raised his hand to me, ever."

"But your relatives did?" Harry nodded, momentarily unable to answer. He was wearing a t-shirt, and in a moment of naked frankness, he pulled his shirt up and turned his back so she could see. He didn't hear a gasp. She didn't immediately start apologizing, or offering him pity. He wasn't even sure she had seen, because it was so quiet. He pulled his shirt back down and turned back to her. She had an impassive look on her face, much likes Snape's own when he was trying to reign in some remark or emotion.

"I see," she said, stiffly Harry thought. "It was your uncle?"

"Yeah," Harry said, wincing.

"I assume Snape has seen the thoroughness of your relatives?"

"Yeah," Harry repeated. "The first night, I stayed out past curfew, and I thought he'd beat me, so I gave him my belt and told him I was ready. He was confused."

"I can imagine," she said. "Was it only your uncle who beat you?"

"Uh-huh," Harry replied. "Aunt Petunia never touched me. Dudley would hit me, but I could usually get away from him."

"You're a very strong young man," Sylvia commented. "To have made it this far already is a great accomplishment, and I want you to understand that."

"What do you mean?"

"You've suffered more than most, just from the things you've already said, and you're still here. That's something." Harry shrugged.

"Just help me become stronger, please," he whispered. "I need to be stronger, or I'm going to fall apart."

"What's bothering you?" she murmured. Harry just shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry." I'm sorry.

"It's okay," Sylvia said softly. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Harry repeated. He began to rock back and forth, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry." He didn't know why he kept repeating it, but it was true. He was sorry. He was sorry for the beatings and everything that went along with them, but he was sorry, too, for the repeated rape at Vernon's hands, and then he was sorry for having pushed Snape away and exposing himself again, and he was sorry for trying to kill himself, and lastly he was sorry that he couldn't talk about it. He was sorry for everything. "I'm sorry."

Softly, Sylvia rose and sat on the couch next to Harry. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, as he buried his face in his hands. He turned away from her, ashamed of his weaknesses.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she murmured softly.

"It's just - maybe - " Harry sobbed, "if I had done something differently - perhaps - things would have happened differently."

"Yes, perhaps if Snape hadn't seen anything that concerned him, you would still be with your relatives."

"Oh, God," Harry gasped, and turned towards her. She held him close.

"Don't worry about what might have been," Sylvia advised. "There's always a better way things could have gone, and always a worse way. If you were to worry about all the possibilities, then you're wasting what life you have now. Worry about the moment, not about what could have been." Harry nodded, but didn't look up from where she still had her arms around him protectively.

"Would you like to tell me why Snape brought you here?"

"No, no, please, no," Harry panicked. His head shot up and he broke their contact. Sylvia sat on the couch next to him, but respected his non-verbal request for personal space.

"It's alright; you don't have to," Sylvia soothed. "You seem to be dangerously close to it, though. Shall a hazard a guess?" Harry didn't reply. He didn't move. He was absolutely still, hoping that she would be wrong, yet wondering if she somehow knew. "You always get more anxious whenever you talk about your uncle. In fact, you don't call him 'uncle' at all. You just call him Vernon. I noticed that last time. You called your aunt by her title, but not your uncle. Combined with your nerves when we speak of him, I suspect he is at the crux of why you're here. Am I wrong?"

"No," Harry admitted guardedly. "Please, I want you to make me better, but I just can't say it."

"It's like drawing out poison, or cauterizing a wound. It must get worse before it gets better. You have to face whatever it is. You have to face it, name it, and then, you can become better. Ultimately, you will have to make yourself better. I'm just here to help you do that. But at the end of the day, it all comes down to you. I believe in you, Harry. You're very strong, and you can come back from anything that's bothering you. It's called resilience, and you have lots of that. Needing help isn't a sign of weakness; it's a sign of strength when you know that you need it."

"Couldn't I just show you too, at some point, like with Snape?"

"No," Sylvia said, and her words made no room for argument. "First of all, I am no legilimens, but even if I were, it isn't going to help you get over it. You must face it the same way every human being, whether wizard or Muggle, must face it, and that is to talk about it."

"But Snape - "

"Snape is not a shrink," Sylvia said, cutting Harry off. "Yes, yes, I know that's what a lot of people, probably Snape among them, call psychotherapists, and that's fine. Snape has done a wonderful job, please don't misunderstand me. Bringing you this far is an enormous feat on his part. He clearly possesses a lot of understanding on the matter, even if he has almost no training. But just like I would never tell him how to brew potions, he shouldn't tell me how to counsel people. It's not his job, and he doesn't understand it like I do. You must talk about it, and I won't let you do anything less than that. Nothing less than that will help you."

"How do you know?" Harry challenged.

"Has showing Snape helped you?"

"No," Harry admitted.

"Then showing me would be no different. It would revisit your pain without actually curing it. Imagine an infected cut. Would you just keep picking at it, opening it and making it bigger and bigger, allowing more bacteria to enter it? Or should you put some salve and disinfectant on it, then later, a bandage? After some time, the wound will heal."

"It will leave a scar."

"Yes, and over time, the scar will fade. And there are things you can do to make the scar less. Perhaps it will always be there, but at least it won't become a systemic infection. You will have averted the worst of the effects."

"Do I have a systemic infection?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yes," Sylvia said. "And before you can get better, I need to give you some major antibiotics. It will kill the majority of the infection in your system. I have to apply alcohol to your still open and bleeding wound, wherever that may be, sew it closed, and put a bandage over it. With enough time, the bacteria will die, and the wound will close. It needs to be given time and the proper care. Without it, the infection will kill you. That doesn't make you weak. Surviving it this long makes you strong. But even the most skilled doctor in the world can't save a patient who won't accept treatment. Will you let me begin care?" Harry nodded, his face somber. "Then, whenever you are ready to take your medicine, let me know. Once we being treatment, there's no turning back."

"I'm scared," Harry admitted, sounding like a pathetic three year old getting a shot.

"That's okay," Sylvia said. "Don't be someone who has come this far, only to turn back now and refuse the one thing that will save your life. It may hurt, and it may hurt terribly, but in the end, it will make you feel much better. Disinfectant never feels good, but it sure feels a whole hell of a lot better than the infection continuing." Harry nodded once.

"Would it be alright for me to write a few things out before our next session, and read from those notes when I get stuck?"

"Yes, I think that is a marvellous idea," Sylvia said. "Don't push yourself, though. If writing out your notes gets to be too much, you can set it aside. We can do this slowly."

"No, I think pushing on ahead might be the best thing," Harry replied, sucking in his breath. "It's not like time is going to stop for me, is it?"

"It won't," Sylvia agreed, "but pushing too hard, too fast, can be worse. You can set yourself back further. How long has it been since you tried to kill yourself?"

"How do you - " Harry cut himself off.

"You mentioned that Snape saved you from yourself, twice, I believe," Sylvia reminded him. "That sounded like a euphemism for a suicide attempt. Or two of them. Which, I would hazard a guess, is the thing that finally convinced someone like Severus Snape to bring you here. Am I wrong?"

"No," Harry said. "You're spot on."

"So, how long?"

"Like a week?" Harry guessed. "I don't remember exactly. We made the first appointment right after, and you were quick about scheduling."

"Severus mentioned it was urgent," Sylvia shrugged. "He was quite concerned about you."

"Figures," Harry drawled. "I hate getting special treatment for my name."

"It wasn't because of who you are," Sylvia smiled. "I try to accommodate all my patients."

"You know...there's something I've been wondering about," Harry continued. "Confidential?"

"Absolutely."

"Snape doesn't have a lot of money, and, um," Harry stalled. "I was wondering if we could make an arrangement that he doesn't have to pay for this? Because he shouldn't have to be spending his money on me and I have enough gold that I can afford it so..." Sylvia laughed.

"No one is paying for anything," Sylvia started to explain.

"Oh, you mean like universal healthcare coverage?" Harry sighed, looking relieved.

"Unfortunately, the wizarding world isn't as progressive as all that," Sylvia continued. "But Professor Snape is calling in a favor I owe him."

"A favor?" Harry questioned.

"Yes," Sylvia confirmed. "When I was a student of his, I needed to score well on my N.E.W.T Potions test to become a therapist. I need to know how to assign potions to people, if that becomes necessary. While I was always an acceptable student in his class, I was never anything special, but I needed an Exceeds Expectations. After plucking up the necessary courage, I approached him with a truly Slytherin proposition - if he would help me outside of class in preparation for test, I would owe him a favor."

"Wasn't that a little dangerous?" Harry asked. "What if he asked you to do something for the Death Eaters or something?"

"I was asking a professional favor of him," Sylvia explained. "I would return a professional favor. So what if he asked me to counsel a Death Eater? It's happened before, and it may happen again. They're people too, you know. I don't think he ever expected to need my favor, but even if you can't see why you'd need it at the time, collecting favors is a particularly fun pastime for Slytherins."

"You didn't even know his was in the Order then. Hell, he might not have been."

"He wasn't," Sylvia said. "He got his teaching position after turning spy, though. And I trusted Professor Dumbledore to have protected the right man. If he said Snape was a spy, then he was. There was some danger in my offer, but it has turned out alright, hasn't it? Don't worry about cost, Harry. I'm not charging Snape anything for these visits, nor will I."

"I'm sure he doesn't like having to call in his favor," Harry replied.

"I don't think it matters too much to him," Sylvia continued. "As I mentioned before, he never expected to need it."

"What if he intended to use it for himself someday?"

"Harry," Sylvia said, in a matter-of-fact voice. "I don't see anything wrong in Professor Snape seeking my abilities, but it is entirely possible that he would feel very ill-at-ease with a former student. And not just any former student, but one with whom he worked very closely for a year. I doubt he ever intended to use it for himself, even though I happen to agree with you, that he does need help."

"How do you know he needs help?"

"A sixth sense," Sylvia explained. "I've known since he began tutoring me. There's something off about him. I don't know what, but I would imagine that being a key chess piece between two grand masters probably takes its toll."

"Probably," Harry conceded dryly.

"But now that I've answered your questions," Sylvia continued, "I'd like it if you could answer mine." Harry gulped. "It's not appropriate for you to be paying for your own medical bills, even if I were charging for my services."

"But like I said - " Harry began.

"Yes, yes," Sylvia cut him off. "I know. You already said that Snape doesn't have a lot of money. He has enough to see to your needs, though, or he wouldn't have been approved to adopt you."

"Oh, I know he can afford it," Harry said. "But he should be spending his money on something for himself, not me."

"Don't you think Professor Snape is old enough to spend his money how he pleases?" Sylvia asked, her eyes twinkling much like a certain old man Harry knew.

"Yes, but - " Harry sighed.

"Severus is not like your relatives. I'm sure you know that?"

"Yes, of course," Harry said, sounding a bit affronted.

"Then don't expect him to use his finances like your relatives."

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Harry asked.

"Of course."

"How did you get along with Snape as a student?"

"Well enough," Sylvia hedged. "He tolerated me for a year outside of the classroom, so I don't suppose he hated me too much, though he was always good for snide remarks and intimidation, even then." Harry smiled a bit. "So, I think you should try to write out some of your thoughts regarding what we should talk about at our next meeting, alright?"

"Yes," Harry gulped. "I'll try."

"Remember to not push yourself. That won't help anyone. And talk to Snape about it, if it doesn't stress you out too much. He will listen to you. He won't let you suffer alone."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked.

"Have you seen the way he looks at you?" Sylvia laughed. "A mother bear couldn't be more protective of her offspring."

"But being protective isn't the same as..." Harry drifted off.

"As being caring?" Sylvia supplied. "It's not. But he cared for you when you cried last time, didn't he? He did it in front of me. If he can be that demonstrative in front of me, how much more caring must he be when you're alone? Harry, Snape will listen to anything you want to tell him while you're preparing your notes."

"I don't want to make him angry," Harry said.

"Angry? Not at you."

"No, not at me," Harry agreed. "But he sometimes gets very angry when I show him things."

"At your uncle," Sylvia concluded.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "I don't want to make him angry."

"He can deal with his anger," Sylvia assessed. "He's been dealing with it since he was a student himself. He cares about you more than the anger can stifle. I wouldn't worry about it too much. Lean on him when you need to. He will be there for you."

"Yeah," Harry said. "He will be."