Harry hardly blinked, staring straight ahead as injuries were treated. He barely noticed when the glass shard was pulled from his side. He took potions without question or protest. He didn’t say a word to anyone. His eyes never looked at any of the others around him. He couldn’t form a single thought past Ron. His throat was so tight, his eyes wouldn’t stop burning, and his chest felt like it would explode.

He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Ron couldn’t be dead. Ron was all he had, Ron and Hermione. They were the only family he had, the closest he would ever get to the family he so desperately wanted. Ron couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t lose his best friend. It was Ron; Ron was always there for him, was supposed to be by his side forever.

He was far too distracted by thoughts of Ron that he didn’t even notice when he was led out of the Hospital Wing and into the dungeons. He was brought into all-too-familiar rooms but he had no reaction. He sat rigidly in the same chair, staring blankly into the same flames. They provided no warmth, no solace, no comfort. The professor shifted and spoke.

“Talk to me.”

A single tear rolled down Harry’s cheek.

“He’s dead.”

More tears fell. He didn’t think he would have been able to say it out loud so soon, didn’t think he’d be able to admit it. It hurt so much more than he ever thought possible to admit it. He’d never been in so much pain before and he’d had his fair share of pain. Ron was dead, he was gone. A sob bubbled up in his throat and he tried to suppress it, but it was impossible. He quickly dissolved into tears again, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them.

He was alone again. Ron was gone and he was alone. He was always left alone. How could he have lost his best friend? The year was already so terrible, Ron was the one thing helping him get through it all. How was he supposed to do it now, on his own? He couldn’t do it alone; he didn’t want to do it alone.

He jumped when a hand landed gently on his arms wrapped around his legs. He raised his head just enough to peek over his knees at Snape who was crouched in front of him. He searched the man’s black eyes but they were completely unreadable. Maybe not completely for there was something familiar in the eyes but he couldn’t identify it. Whatever it was helped ease his despair minutely and he once again found himself embracing his horrid Potions professor. This time it was less tense despite their usually violent relationship and was not as anguished as it had been in Hogsmeade. Harry’s arms wrapped around the professor’s neck while the man’s arms came around his midsection.

In the moment, as they held each other through Harry’s grief, they knew something between them and in their relationship, had shifted and changed.

After quite some time, the two finally parted. Harry dropped his arms in his lap and lowered his eyes in embarrassment and in an attempt to stop his still steadily flowing tears. Snape’s arms had also pulled back but his hands were still resting on Harry’s knees.

“You’ll get through this, Potter,” Snape said quietly.

Harry sniffed, wringing his hands together. “How? Ron-Ron’s…I can’t, not without him.”

“You can,” Snape said firmly.

“But he’s…”

“I know and you mourn and grieve as long as you need to, but do not give up on your own life in that grief. It is cliché but it is wise to consider that Mr. Weasley would wish you to continue on and be happy,” Snape said. “He will help you through this.”

“He can’t,” Harry said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he looked down at his lap again.

“One does not have to be a ghost to still be with us after death.”

Harry looked up at him again, his eyes full of tears and his face of grief.

“I…will also help if I can,” Snape added, gaining a shocked look from the boy. “I know what it is to lose someone you love.”

Some more tears fell and Harry bit his lip against the pain and as he considered his next question. It would be completely unorthodox and totally bizarre given their history. But he couldn’t face, well, any of it. He wanted a night to cope on his own without the heavy weight of the empty dorm bed.

“Can-can I stay here tonight?” Harry asked quietly, almost mumbling. He refused to look at his professor, terrified of the anger and rejection that would be before him.

Snape’s eyebrows flew up at the question but it was his only response to the boy’s unexpected request. It was completely out of the blue and even a little inappropriate seeing as they were student and teacher. He should really refuse and send the boy back to the Tower. Plus, did he really want Harry Potter infesting his quarters all night where he could cause only Merlin knew what kind of trouble and damage? He paused his thoughts and gazed at the boy in front of him.

The child was folded almost completely in half in the chair, an effort to hide himself away and block out the world. His face was red and puffy and surely permanently stained with tears at this point. He was biting his lip hard as he continued to sniff and his hands spun together in his grief and anxiety. The boy looked absolutely destroyed and sending him back to the Tower where he would have to face the other Gryffindors and Weasley’s bed would not help.

“It’s okay, sir, I’m sorry,” Harry started, assuming his request was being refused.

“You may stay the night,” Snape said and Harry’s head flew up to look at him with wide eyes. “You can sleep on the sofa, if that will suffice.”

“Th-that’s fine, Professor,” Harry said, startled he was being allowed to stay. “Th-thank you.”

Snape inclined his head. “The Tower may not be best for you tonight. The situation will be discussed further tomorrow.”

Harry nodded, not really caring. He wasn’t even thinking about tomorrow. He foresaw nothing but a bed—or, in this case, a sofa—in his immediate future. Everything else would just have to wait.

“I will prepare the sofa then,” Snape said and he stood, finally removing his hands from Harry’s knees. Harry frowned to himself as he found himself missing the contact instantly.

He pressed his cheek to his knee as he watched the professor put bedding on the sofa. The day and emotions were really beginning to catch up to him, and he was beginning to feel physically and mentally exhausted. It was getting difficult to focus and keep his eyes open.

“Here you are, Potter,” Snape said, stepping to the side of the most comfortable looking sofa Harry had ever seen. Granted, he was sure a tree trunk and a rock for a pillow would look comfortable at the moment as well.

“It looks great, Professor,” Harry said sincerely. “Thank you again.”

“If you feel ready for bed?”

“Beyond,” Harry said. 

“Then I, too, am off. You are aware of where everything is and, should you need anything, you can come to me,” Snape said. “I will do my best to reign in my temper.”

Harry’s mouth twitched into a near smile. “You’re not so bad anymore.”

Snape’s lips also twitched, but nothing more. He just cleared his throat. “Time for bed. I will see you in the morning, Potter.”

“Good night, Professor,” Harry said softly as Snape headed to the bedroom. He waited until Snape’s bedroom door closed before he moved over to the made-up sofa. He kicked off his shoes but kept everything else on, including his sweater, having been brought new clothes while he was in the Hospital Wing. As he pulled his legs onto the sofa and pulled the puffy comforter over him, he realized Snape had left the fire lit. He was grateful for it. Despite his clothes, the blanket, and the fire, he remained chilled and it was not going away. He could not seem to make any warmth enter his body. While the fire wasn’t providing him warmth in his current state, it was still a calming presence and a comfort. He took off his glasses and stared blurrily into the flames, allowing his mind to fill with memories of Ron in a bid to push aside the image of his friend’s body. The memories ran like a movie and eventually coaxed him into sleep.

Harry looked around, spotting the familiar oak tree that sat on the Hogwarts grounds, the one they always sat under. It was out of place here in the otherwise completely open meadow. It wasn’t peaceful though. Clouds were hanging in the sky, casting dark shadows over the large area. While unnaturally dark, there was something else off about the entire situation but he couldn’t think of what it was.

“Harry!”

Harry spun around at his name, at the extremely familiar voice. He would know that voice anywhere and he knew it was impossible for him to be hearing it now. He stared at the tree with wide eyes. His voice caught in his throat and his eyes burned when Ron stepped around the tree, smiling gently and his red hair blowing in the chilly wind.

“Come sit, Harry.”

“This isn’t real,” Harry muttered.

Ron shrugged a shoulder, inclined his head, and crossed his arms. “Real is relative when it comes to magic.”

Harry took a few steps closer to his friend and the tree. “What does that mean? You mean you’re—you’re not…”

Ron’s eyes grew sad. “No, I’m dead. That can’t be changed. I am so sorry, Harry.”

Tears filled Harry’s eyes and he looked at his feet.

“Sit,” Ron said quietly.

Harry looked back at him, tears streaming down his face. He stared at his best friend for a long while before he finally rushed forward and pulled Ron into a tight hug. He hadn’t actually expected to be able to touch Ron so it was overwhelming when Ron was solid and returned the embrace. He clutched onto Ron for dear life, holding so tightly and he never wanted to let go. Maybe they could just stay where they were forever. It wasn’t as though he had much to go back to.

When thunder rumbled, Harry wasn’t aware but Ron was.

“Can we sit now?” Ron said. “We’ll be safe from the rain under the tree.”

Harry finally pulled away and nodded slightly. Ron pulled him over to the tree and they made themselves comfortable like they always did at Hogwarts.

“So what is all of this?”

“I’m here to help you,” Ron said, looking up at the dark sky as the rain began to fall. “You haven’t accepted my death yet and there’s a lot coming. Basically, I’m here to make you happy again.”

“I’m not sure I was ever happy,” Harry muttered. “And how can I ever accept that you’re gone? You’re not supposed to be dead. You’re supposed to be with me but now I’m alone.”

“Not as alone as you think you are,” Ron said. “Accept the others as they come. They’ll all help you in so many ways. And I will always be with you, even once these meetings end.”

“End?” Harry looked at him startled. He didn’t want the meetings to end. That would mean he’d never see Ron again. That couldn’t happen.

“We won’t be able to do this forever,” Ron said. “Like I said, this is only until you’re happy.”

“I won’t be without you.”

“We’ll see.”

They fell silent and sat watching the storm continue to grow.

Harry’s eyes opened slowly, taking in the extinguished fire that had been roaring some hours before. He was still comfortably ensconced in the thick blanket the professor had given him. He felt so warm and comfortable and safe. He didn’t want to leave the sofa, regardless of the fact that it was still Snape’s quarters. It was as though nothing could reach him there and he didn’t want to leave that. He didn’t want to face the day, the first full day he would have to get through without Ron. He couldn’t do it, not yet.

He continued to stare at the smoldering embers, wishing he could just leave everything behind for a while. He didn’t want to see everyone, see their sadness or anger. He didn’t want to see the pity or blame. He just wanted to figure out how to cope on his own.

“Good morning, Mr. Potter.”

Harry peeked over the blanket and the back of the sofa to see Snape had emerged from the bedroom. It was surreal to see Snape in anything other than his strict black teaching robes, but he was standing there in blue cotton pants and was tying a dark green robe shut. It was strange but oddly comforting to know there was truly an actual person under the harsh teacher disguise. Not that he didn’t already know that. He had been spending every week with the man for the last two months and things had changed. He was pretty sure the hatred between them was gone. Ron had been right. He and Snape were learning to at least tolerate each other.

He bit his lip as he thought of how the professor had treated him the previous night. He would never get to tell Ron how…kind and even caring Snape had been since Ron’s death. Ron had been so supportive of him and Snape getting along and now he’d never get to see it.

“Sleep well?” Snape said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts.

“Under the circumstances,” Harry said with a nod.

“Good,” Snape said. “Would you care for some breakfast?”

Harry’s expression was full of surprise. He was sure the professor was acting oddly kind out of pity but Snape also didn’t seem like the type that would have pity for anyone. So, what exactly was going on? As he continued to think it over, he nodded to the professor.

“Yes, sir.”

Snape inclined his head. “Come along to the kitchen.”

Harry stood slowly, but eventually followed the professor into the kitchen. Snape motioned for him to sit and they both did so. After a few seconds, food appeared on the table the same way it did in the Great Hall. Harry looked at the options, feeling hungrier than he thought he would. He made himself wait, though, until the professor had filled his own plate, ensuring he did not forget such an important rule.

Snape, however, noticed the action and frowned. Deciding to test before speaking, he acted as though he had chosen all he wanted. After a few seconds the child finally began to fill his plate. Casually, Snape reached out and grabbed the bowl of fruit. As he expected, Potter instantly stopped serving himself until well after he had replaced the fruit bowl.

“Habit of yours?” he said casually as he began to eat.

The boy looked up at him, startled. “I-I don’t— “

“Calm down, Potter, I was simply inquiring,” Snape said and Harry blushed back down at his plate.

Harry poked at his food, wondering if he should say anything. Eventually he shrugged a shoulder and said, “Just something my relatives taught me. My uncle thought it respectful that I wait for them to serve themselves first.”

“I see,” Snape said, taking a bite of his breakfast. “Does your uncle have many rules?”

“A few,” Harry said vaguely.

Snape hummed and they continued to eat in a strangely comfortable silence. They had both finished eating by the time Snape spoke again.

“You do not have to concern yourself with going to the Tower or anywhere else for the next two days. I have already contacted the headmaster and Professor McGonagall and have informed them of your whereabouts and need for time. They completely understand but you are to discuss it with them if you feel you need more time away from the Tower or classes.”

“Oh, uh, thank you, sir,” Harry said, not expecting such a thing to be done for him, especially by Snape. “I was hoping I could stay away from the Tower for a little longer and everyone else. I can’t face anyone, not yet, not even Hermione.”

“Which is completely understandable and acceptable,” Snape said, bringing their dishes to the sink. “This is an extremely traumatic situation for you.”

Harry’s eyes burned as the image of Ron’s body entered his mind once again.

“You are welcome to stay here if you wish or you can find somewhere else you would like to stay.”

Harry sniffed and fought to keep his tears at bay. “I-I’d like to stay. Thank you, sir.”

Snape nodded his head. “You may summon a house elf to retrieve anything from the Tower and you may read anything from the bookshelf in the sitting room.”

Harry nodded, trying but failing to smile. “Thank you.”

“I will be in my study, the door next to my bedroom, if you need anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that Snape left the kitchen for his study and Harry returned to the sitting room after getting himself a glass of water.