"You can't possibly expect me to stay here with him!" Draco shouted angrily, "A Malfoy and the golden boy?"

"I'm sorry Draco, but this is our only option." Narcissa said quietly, "I know it's not ideal, but it's for your own protection....and whether you like it or not, it's a good opportunity to prove to Dumbledore that you've removed yourself from the dark side. Professor Snape's home is under the fidelus and has many safeguards that will keep you out of harms way until things die down."

Draco nodded numbly, resting his head on his mother's shoulder as she gave him a tight hug, "This is a very mature decision you are making, you have made me proud."

"Thank you Mother." Draco murmured, inhaling his mother's perfume, tears prickling in his eyes. He wasn't one to openly weep, nor was he one to become homesick, but he knew this was the last time he'd see his mother for a long time and they weren't parting on the same terms they would during a school year.

Giving her son's hand a tight squeeze, Narcissa turned from Draco to the Floo, calling out "Malfoy Manor" before stepping into the green flames, leaving the blonde in the hands of his godfather.

Draco looked up at Severus Snape, a frown on his pale face, "You don't expect us, Potter and I, to be...friends....or anything, do you?"

"Of course not Draco, I'm not a fool. I do, however, expect the two of you to try to coexist as peacefully as possible for the next 2 months, until we return to school. I have laid out rules for Harry already, and I will go over them with you tonight at dinner. In the meantime, why don't you go upstairs and unpack and maybe take your broom out on the grounds? Harry is already upstairs and I doubt he'll be going outside today, so it will give you a bit of peace while you adjust."

"Where's my room?"

"Second floor, third door on the left." Severus replied, his hand on Draco's shoulder, "You're doing a good thing."

Draco gave a slight smile and a weak nod before moving towards the stairs. Things had been a blur since the summer began, he had been preparing to join Voldemort's ranks at the end of term and had spent the first few days of holidays preparing for his encounter with the Dark Lord. It was no secret that he'd be one of the youngest new recruits and he had been fully prepared to do whatever was asked of him...until the idiot LeStrange let it slip that he would be ordered to murder the headmaster. It wasn't that he was particularly loyal to the old man, but just the thought of murdering him turned his stomach.

Dumbledore was a famous wizard, not to mention a powerful one, and he had been a constant figure in his life for years now. It was one thing to dislike the headmaster, but another to attempt to kill him, or even to wish him dead. After Bellatrix had left, Draco had confessed to his mother that he didn't think he had it in him to commit such a vicious act.

He had expected her to be furious, or at least to give him a peptalk on why it was important to the cause, but she had surprised him by bursting into sobs and showering him with praise and affirmation. Just a few days later he had been hauled off to Snape's house, knowing that one, he didn't fully have the other man's trust, and two, there was a price on his head from Voldemort's followers. He had decided that while spending a summer with his potions professor/godfather and Harry-bloody-Potter wasn't the best way to enjoy his time away from school, it was certainly better than death.

That was, until he opened the door to his bedroom.

His jaw fell as he entered the room, the left side a beautiful brilliant shade of Slytherin green, the right with Gryffindor red. And laying on top of the red bedding laid none other than Harry Potter, resting on his stomach while he lazily flipped through a book.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Harry didn't look up, which tore Draco's emotions between relief at not having to interact with his arch enemy and annoyance at being ignored.

Draco tossed his book bag on the green bed, noticing his trunk had already been placed at the foot of the bed. He tore off his travelling cloak and tossed it onto the bed as well before picking up his broom. "Don't touch my stuff."

The blonde warned, shooting an icy glare at the other boy, frowning when his attempt to rile Potter was ignored, "What, are you deaf?"

Harry looked up at Draco for a moment, then back down at his book, silently turning the page. With an indignant huff, Draco turned and went downstairs, more than just a little curious as to what was going on with his--he shuddered at the word--roommate.

~~

Severus sat in the library, a glass of fire whiskey in hand, as he watched Draco fly through the courtyard. Satisfied that the boy would be out of trouble for the time being, he turned his attention back to the Daily Prophet. He read the first sentence a dozen times before giving up, tossing the paper onto the table and standing. It was time to check on Harry.

If the child had been even half as unpleased by the orders from the headmaster that they would be spending the summer together, he hadn't shown it in the least. As a matter of fact, the boy had yet to show much of any emotion over the time they had spent together, something quiet uncharacteristic for the normally outspoken boy-who-lived-to-annoy. At first, Severus was relieved not to have to deal with teenage tantrums, but the silent treatment was getting old very quickly and he couldn't help but be concerned for the boy.

It was no secret that Potter wore his heart on his sleeve, usually it took a brief look at the child's stance and face to read his emotions, but since the end of term Harry had been quite withdrawn and unwilling to even subconsciously share any inkling of what was happening in his mind.

Severus wouldn't admit it, he would probably deny it even if asked, but he was concerned about Harry's mental state. Headmaster Dumbledore had not mentioned his exact reasoning for placing Harry in his custody, but the request had come on the heels of a major outburst that had taken place in Dumbledore's office, so Severus had reasoned that the headmaster was worried about Potter's emotional state. That, combined with Potter's uncharacteristic behavior was enough to drive the potions professor into a state of concern.

He lightly knocked on the bedroom door, frowning when Harry didn't even move from his position on the bed. He wasn't surprised, Harry rarely left his room, but it wasn't like him to spend the summer with his nose in a book--surely if it was, his grades would be higher.

"Potter."

A few moments passed before Harry made eye-contact, his dull emerald gaze travelling to Snape's face, "Yes sir?"

"Have you eaten today?"

"No sir."

Snape had expected to see at least a trace of guilt over skipping not only the current day's meals, but most meals, or even perhaps anger at being treated like a child. To hear absolutely no emotion from the boy was disheartening.

Harry's gaze dropped back down to the book laying open on his crimson bedding, and Severus sighed, "Do grace us with your presence at dinner tonight."

"Yes sir."

"If you would like to fly for a bit, I'm sure Draco wouldn't mind the company."

"No sir." Came the response Severus had expected. He was torn between relief and worry. On one hand, he wished Harry would show some sort of enthusiasm, on the other, he knew Draco would have a fit if his new roommate joined him outdoors.

Severus paused in the doorway, hoping on some level that the boy would stop him, but when Harry continued to stare at his book Severus turned to leave. This entire situation was a bit too unsettling for him. Students staying with him over the summer, concern for a Potter. He resisted the urge to pinch himself and see if he was dreaming.

He settled back into a black leather chair in the library, picking up the glass of alcohol and paper once more. He decided he wasn't going to think about Potter or Draco any longer and would enjoy the silence, because he had a feeling that once the two boys actually started spending time together, silence would be hard to come by. It was no secret that the two were bitter rivals, and he could only imagine the sparks that would fly once the two of them started cohabitating.

~~

Harry stared at the book in his hands, reading the same lines for the eighth time.

It may be he shall take my hand

And lead me into his dark land

And close my eyes and quench my breath—

It may be I shall pass him still

I have a rendezvous with Death

(I Have a Rendezvous with Death - Alan Seeger)

More than anything, he wanted to let his eyes drift close and enjoy a peaceful slumber. He knew that wouldn't happen, though. He hadn't been able to sleep for more than an hour at a time since the night at the Department of Mysteries. He wanted to throw the book aside and sob into his blankets until his eyes were swollen shut and his throat ached. He knew that wouldn't happen either. He didn't deserve to sleep. He didn't deserve to cry. He didn't deserve to live. He had acted without thinking things through, he had ignored Hermione's warnings that Voldemort was possibly using their link to plant false information. He had gotten his godfather killed and nearly gotten his friends killed as well. And now, he'd have to become a murderer in order for all of this pain and suffering to end. There wasn't time waste flying his broom, writing to his friends, enjoying his summer. Every day that he remained under Snape's care, another innocent family was being tortured or murdered. Dying because of him. Because he wasn't ready to fight Voldemort yet.

So instead of obsessing over his godfather's death, he had pushed those feelings deep down inside and was focusing on preparing for the upcoming battle. He knew it was only a matter of time before he and Voldemort came head to head, and he knew that when it happened, he would be the victorious one. He spent his days reading the many books Snape kept stored in their library, novels written by wizards and muggles alike, transfiguration and charms texts, texts on magical creatures. He was trying not only to stay out of trouble but to experience as much as he could before meeting Voldemort, just in case he didn't make it. At night, he would sneak into the library and study defense books, as well as some dark arts books, taking notes and memorizing all he could. He slept only when he could no longer fight his burning eyes and aching head, and he ate only when Snape noticed he wasn't. He didn't have time to stop, he had to cram as much information into his head as possible.

Satisfied that he would be uninterrupted until dinner, he tossed the poetry book aside and lifted his pillow to retrieve his muggle notebook and pen as well as a spell book he had borrowed from Snape's library the previous night. His muscles ached in protest and blood rushed to his head, making him dizzy, as he moved to the desk in the corner of the room, but he forced himself to ignore the discomfort. He had a job to do, and once that job was over he'd finally be left alone to either live or die in peace.

~~~

Harry stood and flushed the toilet, staggering to the sink to rinse the vomit taste from his mouth. He hated when Voldemort got into his head, it always left him feeling weak and ill, as if the content of the visions wasn't enough to do do. He grimaced as another wave of nausea rolled through him and he gripped the sink and bent forward, willing himself not to throw up again and hating himself for falling asleep in the first place. He splashed some water on his face, taking a few deep breaths before opening the door. He nearly fell backwards when he came face to face with Draco Malfoy.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, a apprehensive look on his pale face.

Harry let his gaze fall to the floor, wanting to avoid a fight at all costs. He didn't want to waste time on petty rivalries when he should be focusing on his biggest enemy. "Fine."

"I thought I heard--"

"I'm fine." Harry repeated a bit more forcefully, flopping back down on his crimson bed.

Draco raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, his eyes following Harry as he flicked open his book and began to read once more. "Is that all you do?"

Harry ignored the question, and was spared another as Snape's voice echoed down the hallway, "Boys, come down here!"

Draco turned and left and Harry tiredly stood, forcing the haziness that the lack of sleep provoked from his head, and followed. When they reached the den, Severus was already seated in an oversized leather chair watching the two boys as they sat on opposite ends of the sofa.

"There are a few rules I would like to establish. Harry and I have already been over them, but it wouldn't hurt for him to be reminded as well." He paused to make sure both boys were paying attention, and once Harry finished looking around and focused, he continued, "First and foremost, there are quite a bit of dark magical objects here, and I do not want either of you looking for, touching or even thinking about going near these objects. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Harry and Draco replied in unison, Draco shooting Harry a nasty look when he realized they had spoken together, although Harry's eyes were resting somewhere to the left of Severus's shoulder. His head throbbed, his scar burning, and he wanted nothing more than to escape back to the confines of his room and study until he passed out from exhaustion.

Severus continued, not noticing the building tension, or perhaps choosing to ignore it. He looked from Harry to Draco, then back to Harry before stating, “Breakfast is at 7:00 sharp, lunch at noon and dinner at six. If you are late, you do not eat. I will not dictate your daily schedule, seeing as how it is the summer holidays, but I do expect you to balance your recreational activities with a fair amount of studying and preparing for next term. I expect you to keep your room tidy, and I intend on holding both of you accountable, so if one of you fails to maintain that requirement, I expect the other to overcompensate. Feel free to manage this however you must, lest both of you receive punishment.”

“Yes sir.” Harry murmured as Draco shot the professor an indignant look.

“Are you kidding me?” Draco shouted, “I will not be responsible for Potter’s mess. What if he decides he won’t do anything at all and I’m left with all of the work?”

“That is between the two of you. I will not spend my summer refereeing petty teenage rivalries. I expect the two of you to try and get along as much as possible. I understand it would be nearly impossible for you to never fight, but I expect that you both treat the other with respect and compassion, even if it is just for the remainder of the summer.”

Harry’s head continued to ache as Severus repeated, for the third time since Harry had arrived, the list of rules and conditions of their stay at his home. He briefly considered asking to be excused back to his bedroom, but decided against it as his imagination vividly flashed through Snape’s likely response, including the well known speech about how he disobeyed rules on a regular basis and was going to get himself and his foolish friends killed one day because of his recklessness and irresponsibility. And truth be told, even if Snape was the nicest man on earth, he wouldn’t want to draw any attention to himself. It was best to stay hidden in the shadows and disappear. After all, there was no way he’d be able to train enough, learn enough magic to defeat Voldemort if he was being watched under the careful eyes of Severus Snape…and he doubted Snape would appreciate him using his dark arts book to practice. And even if he did, he wouldn’t feel comfortable with the harsh professor overseeing his studies and making him more nervous than he already felt.

His scar seared with pain again and he groaned inwardly, trying not to show any signs of weakness externally. He had been working hard on this ever since that night at the Department of Mysteries, he knew eventually everyone would figure out it was his fault that Sirius had died, and he was determined not to let anyone know he was still having horrible visions. Most of all Snape, since Harry himself had been responsible for occulmency classes ending. He couldn’t take it if Snape decided to throw this information back in his face and blame him for his godfather’s death. He blamed himself enough as it was.

He squirmed slightly as he was thrown into a modest house, one that he recognized from photos in his dormitory. He felt sick as he recognized he familiar accent of Seamus Finnegan, and what he could assume was Seamus’s family. No. No. No. No. No. A shot of green light and the hissed words that haunted so many of Harry’s dreams and one by one a family was destroyed.

He gasped as he was jerked back into the present, Snape’s voice penetrating his ears as his heart rapidly fluttered, picturing over and over what just transpired in his mind. Seamus Finnegan was dead. His family, dead. More people he knew and cared for, gone. His stomach churned and he could feel the bile rising in his throat. He swallowed a few times, anxiety and panic rising in his chest as he relieved the last vision once more, and it wasn’t until he noticed both Draco and Snape looking at him that he realized he had dropped his façade of normalcy.

“Are you alright?” Severus asked sharply, noticing the boy’s face rapidly pale as his hands began to shake, “Harry? What’s wrong?”

Harry fully intended to reassure his professor and newly acquired roommate that he was quite fine, but the moment he opened his mouth he knew he was going to be sick. Clamping his hand over his mouth he bolted from the room, barely making it to the restroom in time before bringing up what little was on his stomach, sobs wracking his body as the implications of his vision fully hit him. Seamus was his friend, and though they weren’t as close as he was with Ron or Hermione, he knew their dormitory wouldn’t be the same without him.

Cedric Diggory, Sirius, his parents, Seamus…how many people were going to have to die before he was able to fulfill his destiny and kill that bastard once and for all? How many more people would he lose? How many more innocent lives would be wasted?

He was so wrapped up in his grief that he barely noticed as a cold cloth was pressed against the back of his neck and he was gently brought to his feet. He wasn’t fully aware that he was back into his room until he found himself drinking a vial of liquid, his breath coming in gasps as his sobs subsided. He was embarrassed, not only for puking and sobbing in front of his professor, but for having to be treated like a child and forced into sedation with what he now, as the anxiety subsided, recognized as a calming drought.

Harry was barely aware of the soothing hand rubbing his back as he gave in to exhaustion and fell into a fitful sleep.

~~~

“Come Draco.” Severus said quietly, “He needs rest.”

“What just happened?” Draco asked, curiosity overpowering his dislike for the other boy.

Severus shut the door behind them, leading the blonde back into the den, “I’m not quite sure. I have reason to believe he doesn’t sleep well, maybe the fatigue has caught up with him.”

Draco nodded, his heart racing from the events that had just transpired, although he’d never admit it to anyone. One minute Severus had been telling them about bedtimes, the next Severus had stopped and looked at Harry who was as pale as a corpse. Harry didn’t seem to hear Severus talking to him for a few minutes, then once he seemed to acknowledge their professor, Harry had bolted and was sick. He had never seen someone so rattled before; Harry was incoherent as he sobbed to the point of hyperventilation and once Severus had been able to give him a calming drought, Harry passed out almost immediately.

He had spent the last few years at Hogwarts hearing about the strong and unnaturally resilient Harry Potter, and seeing the sobbing, human, boy in front him was shocking and surreal. This sobbing, emotional mess was the same boy who had defeated Vodemort as a baby, killed a host of Voldemort’s at the age of 11, slayed a Basilisk at the age of 12, faced Voldemort again at the age of 14 and managed to escape certain death, who fought a dragon, who fought Voldemort yet again at 15 and lived to tell the tale. How could someone so strong show such a tremendous act of weakness?

As if Severus had read his thoughts, his professor said quietly, “The boy has lived through things that most grown men couldn’t face and handle. You can’t expect him to be untouched by the losses he has endured, nor the horrors he has faced, despite what you think you know about him.”

Draco was silent, his godfather’s words striking an unfamiliar sensation of compassion for the boy-who-lived. He was so caught up in his thoughts over his rival that he was startled when the floo roared and Albus Dumbledore stepped through.

“Good evening Severus, Draco.”

“G-good evening Professor.” Draco stumbled, glancing over at his professor for a cue to remain or leave.

“How are you this evening? Getting along well in your new home?”

“Yes sir.” Draco said politely, the uneasiness quickly fading as it was replaced by the confidence that was hammered into him at a young age, “Would you care for tea?”

“No, thank you. I’m only here for a short visit.”

“Draco, would you please go upstairs? Try not to disturb Harry.” Severus said quietly, noticing rather quickly that Dumbledore’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Perhaps get started on your summer homework? Dinner will be in an hour.”

Draco nodded, shutting the door to the den behind him. He fully intended on going upstairs until he heard Dumbledore’s voice through the door, “A student has been killed.”

Curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned closer to the door to hear better.

“A student? By the Dark Lord?”

“Death Eaters had been seen in the area of the residence of Seamus Finnegan. It is unclear whether the family was a target or if it was a random attack. Mrs. Finnegan has some ties to the ministry, but Mr. Finnegan is a muggle. Nymphadora was sent to the area for surveillance, but by the time she arrived the Finnegans were dead.”

“I wasn’t aware they were planning an attack.”

Draco could hear the worry in his godfather’s voice and he bit his lip out of concern.

“I fear you may be losing your place, that Voldemort may be growing suspicious of your involvement in the Order.”

“I fear you may be correct. Is there anything else going on that I need to be made informed of?”

“No, I would just like to encourage you and the boys to take extreme caution, if your position as a spy is indeed known, the three of you may have the highest prices on your heads.”

There was a moment of silence before Dumbledore’s voice was heard again, “How is Harry?”

“He isn’t recovering as well as I would have hoped. I am not sure there is anything I can do for him, he may as well have been left with his muggle relatives. He spends most of his time alone, he rarely eats or sleeps, he is still having visions, although I’m quite sure I am the last person he would ever open up to about them. He is currently in bed, he was ill this afternoon…I do believe it is possible that his illness was an after-effect of a vision. He is under the impression that he is able to fool me into thinking everything is fine but he has never been one to sufficiently suppress his emotions. He is sneaking defense and dark arts books from my library…there’s nothing he can access that would be detrimental to him, but it seems he is trying to cram as much knowledge as he can before his next encounter with the Dark Lord. I assume you’ve told him the prophecy?”

“Yes. I am disheartened to hear he isn’t faring better, but I stand by my decision. He is in good hands here, it is obvious just by the way you have paid attention to the child’s needs. His relatives would most definitely not be as obliging.”

“Petunia Dursley isn’t fit to care for a goldfish, much less a child.”

“Indeed. I must be off now, but I will keep you abreast of the situation at hand. Lemon drop?”

“No, thank you.”

Draco jumped as the door swung open, he hadn’t realized the headmaster had left yet, and his guilty eyes met Severus’s furious ones. “Did I not tell you to go to your room?”

“Yes sir.” Draco murmured, looking down, “I’m sorry.”

Severus’s voice rose slightly, his hands clenched at his sides, “Do you honestly think I would have sent you away had you needed to be informed of the conversation the headmaster and I were having?”

“No sir…I just heard him say that a student--”

“Yes!” Severus shouted, “A student was murdered, one of your classmates. After you had eavesdropped on that particular piece of information, did you not find it appropriate to let us continue our conversation in privacy?!”

“No sir, yes sir.” Draco stammered, “It’s just--”

“Just what?” Snape cut in, “Please do inform me, Draco, of the reasons it was necessary to listen in on a private conversation.”

“I said I was sorry!” Draco shouted, “I was curious, I wanted to know what was happening!”

“And you did not think to ask me?”

“Would you have answered?”

“That is neither here nor there. When I tell you to do something, I expect it to be done immediately and without question. While tonight’s conversation was relatively innocent in nature, what if it had been something more serious? What if the knowledge could have made you a target or gotten you killed?”

“I already AM a target!” Draco shouted, “In case you’ve forgotten, I am just as much of a target as you are, as Potter is!”

Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Just go upstairs, I can’t even stand to look at you right now. I cannot believe that in a house with two sixteen year old boys I will still need to resort to silencing charms in order to maintain my privacy.”

Draco turned to leave, but stopped just short of the stairs, “Is it true? Does Harry really read his mind? I’ve heard rumors, but I didn’t know…”

“It’s not really ‘reading his mind’,” Severus said quietly, “But he is able to...witness…certain events through a link that binds them. I do not want you speaking to him of this link and if I find out in any way that you are tormenting him with the knowledge you gained by eavesdropping, the students will find several containers of ‘Bottled Draco’ in my potions lab next term.”

“Dumbledore seemed concerned.”

“The Dark Lord is also able to plant fake visions into Harry’s mind, at least, at one point the had…it led to the mishap at the ministry before term ended. If Harry had been able to distinguish between what was really happening and what the Dark Lord wanted him to believe was happening, things would be much different now.”

“My father would not be in prison.”

“His godfather would not be dead.”

Draco’s jaw fell open, “His godfather?”

“Sirius Black,” Severus spat out, “He was killed by Death Eaters as he tried to save Harry and his friends. Had Harry been able to control the link with the Dark Lord, the mutt’s life would have been spared.”

Neither noticed the pale raven-haired boy sitting at the top of the stairs, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. He rubbed his eyes before whispering, “I’m so sorry Sirius.” The rest of the conversation between Snape and Malfoy was lost as he wrapped his arms around his knees, trying in vain to stop his emotions from bubbling up to the surface again.

~~~

Dinner was painfully silent.

Severus didn’t fail to notice that while Draco quietly ate his portions and made only the bare minimum amount of small talk, Harry pushed food around on his plate and refused to lift his eyes from the sleek table.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, he made another attempt to get the boys talking, “How are you coming on summer studies?”

“I’ve started on my potions assignment, I have about half a foot done already, and I’ve read the required part of the transfiguration text.” Draco responded, pausing mid-sentence to take a sip of his juice, “I honestly don’t see the point though, it’s not as if anyone knows what they’ll be taking next term until the OWL results come in.”

Severus swallowed a bite of his roast before speaking, “I’m sure you’ll find that most sixth year students take the same core classes as before--charms, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts. As for the other classes you may not continue with, it never hurts to broaden your knowledge. Harry, how are you coming with your studies?”

“I’m finished.” Harry said quietly, pushing his potatoes from one side of his plate to the other, “I’ve finished my essays and I’ve begun to read most of the sixth year texts.” He neglected to mention that he had already read through them once already and was beginning his second time.

“If you would like, I can take a look at your essays and show you where you need to make alterations.” Severus offered, “It’s nice to see you taking your schoolwork so seriously.”

“Bound to happen eventually.” Harry murmured, now pushing his peas around, “May I be excused?”

“You’ve hardly touched your meal. Are you still feeling unwell?”

Harry’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his earlier actions and he forced a bite of potatoes into this mouth, barely able to swallow past the lump in his throat. He couldn’t get the look of fear on Seamus’s face out of his mind. He took a sip of his juice before raising his eyes to meet his professor’s in a questioning gaze.

“One bite of food isn’t enough to sustain a growing teenager, especially since you haven’t bothered to eat all day. If you are unwell, you may go up to your room to rest and I will bring you a nutrient potion. If not, I would suggest eating instead of playing with your food like an impetulent child.”

Harry flinched at his professor’s cold tone and debated over whether or not he should take Snape up on his offer of retreat. He was fairly certain that Snape didn’t know he wasn’t ill, so it wouldn’t seem odd, but at the same time he didn’t want either Draco or Snape to think he was a weakling who wasn’t able to eat a meal without theatrics.

He took another bite and tried not to gag on it, barely successful, and pushed his plate away, “I’m going to lie down.”

~~~

Harry hadn’t been upstairs for maybe two minutes when Severus walked into the boys’ bedroom, a frown on his face as he sat next to Harry, who had his face buried in his pillow.

“Would you like to talk about whatever is bothering you?” he asked awkwardly, feeling as uncomfortable as humanly possible as he waited for the boy to answer, “I know we aren’t friendly by any means, but whatever it is, I promise I will be honest with you.”

Harry shook his head, “I just want to be alone.”

“You’ve been alone for weeks now, Harry.” Severus replied, “I’ve given you space, I’ve left you alone, I’ve done everything I can think of to try and help you, but I don’t know what else to do…I’m new to this situation, having someone in your home to care for is much, much different than being a head of house. I need you to tell me how I can help you.”

“No one can help me.” Harry murmured, “I’m beyond help.”

“That’s not true.” Severus replied quietly, the last bit of his usual malice fading from his tone, “I know you may feel that way right now, but you are definitely not beyond help.”

“I feel bad.”

“What is it? Your head--your scar? Your stomach?” Severus asked, worry creeping into his voice. He had assumed Harry’s illness earlier that afternoon was Voldemort related, but perhaps he was wrong. It was difficult enough to be a caregiver for a careless teen, it would be much harder to care for a sick teen.

Harry mumbled a response into his pillow, too low for Severus to hear. His hand on Harry’s back--oh, it pained him to put his hands on the son of his bitter rival--he spoke softly, “Come again?”

“Not like that.” Harry whispered, turning his head to the side, away from Severus, “Well, my head does hurt, but it’s been hurting for weeks. I feel like I’m a bad person.”

Once the words were spoken, the air in the room seemed to grow thicker. Severus felt the boy’s back begin to shake as he started to cry, and he himself felt like crying out of frustration. He was in over his head, he had no idea how to help this child. If he had the answers to depression, he never would have joined Voldemort’s ranks when he was not much older than Harry.

Awkwardly, Severus rubbed Harry’s back in soft circles, “You most certainly are not a bad person. Careless at times, reckless? Yes, you are those. Brave to the point of being foolish? Perhaps. But you are not a bad person.”

“It’s my fault.” Harry choked out before burying his face in his pillow once more.

Severus grabbed Harry’s shoulder, rolling him over against the boy’s protests, “What is your fault?”

“Everything. Cedric….Sirius….Seamus…it’s all because of me.”

Severus felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him and he grabbed both of Harry’s shoulders, shaking him several times, “No! No, Harry! You foolish child!”

Harry just started to cry harder, on the verge of hyperventilation for the second time that day, struggling to free himself from Severus’s firm grip.

“You can’t possibly believe that, did you turn your wand on them? Did you set up elaborate schemes to lure them into a trap?”

“I may as well have!” Harry cried out, jerking his arm away from his professor, “I…he….I…”

Severus pulled Harry into a tight embrace, more to restrain the boy than to provide comfort, although it only took a few minutes before Harry began to calm. His heart raced as he tried to think of what he could possibly tell this child to pull him from the sea of grief and guilt that he was drowning in. He had no idea that the child had blamed himself for Cedric’s death, he was starting to wonder now if anyone had even bothered to talk to Harry about the loss of his schoolmate. He had figured Harry felt some sort of guilt for Sirius, it would be nearly impossible for him not to, given the circumstances.

At least one positive thing came from this, Harry would now have to acknowledge he was still receiving visions from the Dark Lord and they could resume their occulmency lessons, despite how poorly the effort ended. Right now, for the boy’s sanity, it was much more important to try and block out the Dark Lord rather than fuel a petty rivalry from many years ago.

Harry’s tears slowed and he pulled away from his professor, rubbing his eyes, “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

“It is my fault. At the end of the Tournament, I we reached the cup together. Cedric urged me to take it, I suggested we take it together. The cup was a portkey, it brought us to the graveyard where he was killed. If I hadn’t insisted we both share the glory, he would still be alive.”

“Did you know the cup was a portkey? Did you intentionally try to place Mr. Diggory in harm’s way?”

“No. But--”

“No buts, you are not to blame. Cedric was in the wrong place at the wrong time, as are many of those who suffer at the hands of the Dark Lord. Many, many innocent people have died similarly, getting in the way of his mission.”

Harry shook his head, “You just don’t understand.”

“I understand completely,” Severus said gently, “Have you ever known me to lie to you?”

“No.”

“Then believe me when I tell you it wasn’t your fault. If it were, I would not hesitate in telling you so.”

“Sirius’s death was completely my fault.” Harry said quietly, his eyes brimming with tears once more, “I may as well have turned my wand on him.”

Severus sighed, knowing there was absolutely nothing he would be able to truthfully tell the child without reaffirming his beliefs. It wasn’t that Severus felt he was guilty, the only person guilty of murder that night was Bellatrix Lestrange, but it was no secret that there was no love lost between himself and Sirius Black, and he couldn’t think of a single reassuring word to say about the deceased man.

Sighing, he gave Harry a soft smile, “He died happy. He had said numerous times during Order meetings that he’d die to protect you…he was aching to get out of the house, he died doing something he loved. He died a happy man, Harry.”

“I killed him.”

Severus could see the tears welling up in Harry’s eyes once more, and his mind worked quickly to come up with something reassuring to tell the boy. Even though Severus had spent the last 5 years chipping away at Harry’s over-inflated ego and found himself quite amused by riling the boy up, he now wanted nothing more than to take some of the child’s pain away.

“You did nothing of the sort. I should have known you were up to you foolish antics when you mentioned him in Umbridge’s office, I should have intervened at that point, but I chose to fire call headquarters instead.”

“Hermione warned me that I have a ’saving people thing’ and that I was overreacting. I should have listened to her. She knows everything.” Harry sniffed, staring up at the ceiling, “I tried to check, that stupid elf said he was gone, I should have tried harder…”

“Nonsense. You thought you had proof he was in danger. It was foolish of you to act on that danger, but after 5 years of such behavior it should have been expected of you. No one blames you, not at all. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

Harry shook his head, rolling away from Severus, “I want to be alone, please.”

“As you wish.” Severus replied, trying to conceal the sadness of his tone of voice. He had never felt so utterly useless around a student before. “May I ask you to reconsider dinner?”

“Not hungry.” Harry muttered.

With a heavy sigh, Severus stood and exited the room, opening the door to find Draco on the other side.

As the door shut behind him, Draco’s gaze turned accusatory, “What the hell was that?”