What Remains by Lyzasnape
Summary: Harry Potter has spent the last year hunting down the horcrux with his two best friends and new adoptive parent, Severus Snape. After Voldemort's defeat during the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry must deal with what remains after a short life filled with trauma. Although he is no longer alone, Harry finds moving forward to be nearly impossible and finally accepts help in the most unexpected of muggle places.

(Set in the same universe as "Not All Who Wander are Lost")
Categories: Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Ginny, Hermione, Teddy
Snape Flavour: Snape Comforts, Snape is Kind, Snape is Loving
Genres: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: 8 - Post Hogwarts (young adult Harry)
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Rape, Self-harm, Suicide Themes
Challenges: None
Series: Not All Who Wander are Lost
Chapters: 9 Completed: No Word count: 15366 Read: 32720 Published: 08 May 2015 Updated: 21 Mar 2018
Breakthrough by Lyzasnape
Author's Notes:
Hey guys, I'm back from hiatus. Please drop me a comment to let me know you're still reading. This chapter features another intense exercise sometimes used in group therapy. It is emotionally charged, so please avoid if you cannot handle triggering statements concerning abuse.

Also, two curse words used (F-word/ S-word).

The next week found Harry being exceptionally quiet. Between his off and on nightmares, his father’s strange behavior, telling his friends about his past, and planning on somehow telling his girlfriend, Harry was spent. He did tell Sarah about his success in opening up first thing Monday morning, to which she praised him and ruffled his already crazy hair.

 

His silence, it would appear, couldn’t last.

 

“This next exercise is a bit of a doozy,” Sara said, addressing the room. “We are going to have one brave soul participate with us in this exercise, and the rest of us will help them along in facing the lies that they are allowing themselves to believe about themselves, modeling our own self-talk. Are there any volunteers?”

 

Harry slouched down further in his seat, fully aware that although therapeutic, the exercises usually done during this block of time in treatment are anything but fun. Looking around, Harry inwardly smirked as the rest of his peers seemed to be doing the same thing.

 

“…maybe somebody we haven’t heard from much this week? How about...,” Sarah continued to look around the room, before her eyes landed on Harry. “Harry, you’ve been making great progress and have been rather quiet this week. Come on over.”

 

Harry considered disagreeing. This won’t end well. But…you were Gryffindor for a reason. You’ve faced worse. Buck up, Potter. Taking a deep breath, Harry stood up.

 

“Okay, somebody help me move this chair to the middle of the room.”

 

Harry watched as one of the guys slid the chair up to where Sarah was indicating and the class spread out in their chairs around it. On second thought…

 

As if sensing he was on the verge of backing out, Sarah came next to him and guided him towards the chair, moving to stand in the corner near the board when he was seated.

 

“Thank you, Harry, for stepping up,” She praised, smiling at him.

 

Blushing nervously, Harry merely nodded, prompting her to continue.

“In our lives, we are told countless amounts of things about ourselves, both directly and indirectly. We are told these things by our families, our peers, our actions, and our self-talk. Strangely enough, the negative things appear to stick around more often and easily than the positive and affect the way that we view ourselves and relate to the world around us. If you are told something enough, you eventually believe it.” Looking around and receiving several nods and knowing looks, Sarah continued. “Today, I am going to ask you to evaluate and challenge those beliefs. Now that you have all been here for about a month and worked through quite a number of things together, I am going to go around the room and ask you each to share one item or more that has contributed the most to these negative and sabotaging beliefs. Who would like to go first?”

  The room was silent, before Warren raised his hand.

 

“Yes, Warren.”

 

“Well,” Warren hesitated, glancing up at Sarah and quickly scanning the room. “You all know that I am in the military and was active duty.” Several people nodded, before he continued. “You all know that I was in combat as well. I can’t sugar coat it. I killed people. So, coming back here and being a civilian,” he gestured to himself, his hands sweeping his attire, gray sweat pants, black plain t-shirt and navy athletic shoes. “It doesn’t all fit together. I can’t help looking around every now and then and thinking, what are you doing here…in this grocery store…pushing a shopping cart with the same hands that once held a military-grade weapon that ended another man’s life. You’re not normal. You’re a…killer.”

 

Harry swallowed, empathizing with the man, before breaking the silence.

 

 “You’re not, you know,” he said, speaking out before realizing he was going to.

 

Warren laughed dryly, self-depracation apparent.

 

“No, really,” Harry persisted. “It’s war. I’ve been in it. It’s chaos, and noise, and adrenaline. You’re just trying to survive and doing what you’ve been put there to do. The fact that you feel regret for these people that were trying to kill you. These people that you were trained to be ready to enter combat with if necessary. That’s you. That’s who you are too. That’s the biggest part of you, the part that’s the most human and that you should focus on. We do what we can. And the rest…” Harry paused. “The rest we live with. The events may have changed you, but they don’t define you. You’re still Warren…the goofy guy that tries to help us and calls us out when we have pity parties.”

 

The group laughed and Warren shook his head smiling, wiping his eye with his hand. “Thanks, man,” he said chucking.

 

Harry nodded with a crooked smile.

 

“See,” Sarah said, breaking through the mood and quiet murmuring. “Sometimes, it takes other people to break us from the lies that we have allowed ourselves to believe over time. They can see things differently than we can. I’m sure Harry,” she began, addressing him. “You have no doubt felt the same way as Warren and believed the same thing about yourself. Probably recently.”

 

Harry looked at her, sobering. “Yeah…” He replied.

 

“But calling yourself a killer and being weighed down by all of that guilt…it doesn’t make sense for Warren, does it?”

 

“No,” Harry replied immediately.

 

“It doesn’t make sense for you, Harry, either, does it?”

 

Harry paused.

 

“No,” Warren replied, voice sure and loud. Harry turned towards him, looking into his eyes and seeing a certainty there that gave him strength. Biting his lower lip and feeling naked, Harry turned back to Sarah.

 

“No,” he replied quietly, not quite ready to reply as emphatically. It’s a start.

 

“And that,” Sarah stated,” is what today is about. “Time to begin.”

 ____________________________________________________________ 

“Harry, I want you to think of five  things that you have been told about yourself that continue to shape who you see yourself as today,” Sarah prompted.

 

Harry swallowed, insides feeling like mush and butterflies. Killer, freak, dirty, unlovable, burden, shame, shame, shame. You like it. You’re not enough. You’re nothing. The boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs with nobody and no one, good for nothing but se…”

 

He thought about it for several minutes, staring at the ground before looking back up at her. “Okay,” he said.

 

“What are they?” She asked patiently.

 

Harry squirmed in his chair.

 

“You can do this,” she encouraged. “Name the event.”

 

“The war too, I guess,” he said, quietly, nodding towards Warren who nodded as well.

 

“And the message?” Sarah asked.

 

“The same. Killer. It being my fault for people dying.”

 

“Okay,” Sarah continued, grabbing a marker and writing on the board.

 

IT’S YOUR FAULT.

KILLER.

 

“Is that all,” she prompted, knowing that it wasn’t.

 

Harry took a deep breath and looked at his dark blue jeans, playing with a frayed piece on his thigh. “The abuse, I suppose,” he responded, feeling as if she were pulling his heart out of his mouth. “All of it.” His peers looked at him, some only for a second, knowing it was difficult for him.

 

“Okay…” she encouraged. “Okay, good. Now what are some messages that you got from that or some things that you were told directly?”

 

“That I was unlovable,” he began. “Am unlovable. That I’m a freak. That I…” he paused, hearing the man’s voice in his ear. Almost still feeling his warm breath hitting his sweaty hair. “That I liked it,” he finished, feeling like vomiting.

 

“Harry?” Sarah said, voice filled with concern. “Look at me, please.”

 

Harry continued to stare at his thighs, breathing quickly, before jerking to rub his ear and hair. He was close to bolting.

 

“Harry.” Sarah tried again, loudly and firmly. Harry’s head jerked up towards her. “Stay with us okay?”

 

Harry nodded, realizing that there was now more on the board.

 

IT’S YOUR FAULT

KILLER

YOU ARE UNLOVABLE

FREAK

YOU LIKED IT

 

Harry quickly tuned his head, unable to face the last one.

 

“Are you okay to continue?” Sarah asked.

 

Harry looked up at her and nodded.

 

“Okay. I want you,” she said, pointing to Kaitlyn, “to take the first statement. “You,” she indicated, continuing, “the second. You, two the third. You the fourth, and you two the fifth. You all going to say these things at the same time to Harry until I tell you to stop. Harry, ready?”

 

Harry looked to her, trying to remain calm and appear collected. “Mhm,” he replied, not trusting his voice. Oh bloody fuck.

 

“Go,” Sarah instructed.

 

They began, and the room was filled with a chorus of voices spouting Harry’s deepest shames. They were being said fairly quietly, but to Harry, they were shouting.

 

“KILLER, FREAK, YOUR FAULT, UNLOVABLE, YOU LIKED IT. YOU LIKED IT. YOU LIKED IT.”

 

The last one stood out among the rest, violently, and in his mind he saw his uncle’s large, red face saying the same. He shook his head to clear it, closing his eyes as it continued, his hand going into his hair. It continued on for what was only a minute but felt like several, and he yanked at his hair, trying to remain in the present.

 

“Stop,” Sarah instructed and it became silent. “Harry, open your eyes, and look around the room.”

 

Harry opened his eyes, letting go of his hair, and a tear escaped.

 

“Take a deep breath, Harry.” Sarah instructed. “Good, now another.” Harry followed her instructions and felt the fuzziness in his head die down. He couldn’t keep eye contact, so he stared back down at his jeans. “Now, I want each of you to speak up and say how you feel about Harry and the belief that you were assigned,” Sarah said to the group.

 

Harry looked up in disbelief, feeling a tendril of betrayal in his gut. How could she ask them to say that? They’re going to say I’m…

 

“Harry?” One of the group member’s began, pulling his attention away from his thoughts. He glanced up at her surprised. She was one of the younger members, a couple years older than himself, and rarely spoke. Kailey, he thought her name was. He stared at her, transfixed, causing her to blush. “You…none of that is true. I’ve only known you for a little while, but you’re kind, and gentle…”

 

“No more of a killer than I am, and it’s not your fault that people died. It’s war.” Warren finished from next to her.

 

She looked at him gratefully.

 

“And you’re not a freak, young man,” said an elderly gentleman next to them, the oldest in the group often disagreeable or napping. “You’re a healthy and normal young man who has had awful things happen to him, similarly to the lot of us. I don't know exactly what hapened to you, but calling yourself a freak..or someone calling you that. That's bullshit. If we aren’t freaks, then you aren’t either." He looked at Harry with stern compassion, and Harry felt his insides warm, not expecting such emotion from the man.

 

“There’s no way in hell you’re unlovable, kid,” said a man who reminded Harry of Sirius, about the age that he would have been. “If my son grows up to be like you, I’ll be proud and have had done something right. It is amazing that you came out such an incredibly special young man."

 

Harry blinked stupidly, staring at him, overwhelmed by everyone’s words.

 

“You didn’t like it Harry,” Sarah finished.

 

Harry looked towards her, anxiety hitting him once again and stomach dropping.

 

“You were a child. You had no family to confide in. No choice in the matter. You were taken advantage of in an awful way. Even if your body reacted, you are not at fault. You are not dirty or tainted and you are not a product of what was done to you. You are an amazing boy who had no say in the matter. That shame in guilt is not yours, Harry.” Murmurs of agreement broke out throughout the room. “Okay?” Sarah finished, waiting for a response.

 

Harry looked around the room and gained stregth from those that looked back at him, earnest eyes, full of conviction. Glancing up at Sarah and seeing the fire in her eyes, he replied simply.

 

“Okay.”

To be continued...
End Notes:
I didn't abandon this, I just lost motivation for a long time. What do you think?


This story archived at http://www.potionsandsnitches.org/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=3219