When Harry unlocked the front door and moved into the entryway, the first thing he noticed was that the tiny house was silent and cold. Dust covered everything in a thick, cement-colored layer, and as Harry walked slowly from room to room his shoes kicked up clouds of dirt, turning the normally white trainers to a dull brownish grey. Outside the house, an early spring thunderstorm raged. Rain beat an angry tattoo on the roof and frequent flashes of lightning lit the dim interior. The harsh boom of the thunder followed closely after, alerting Harry that the storm was moving in at a rapid pace.

It was the anniversary of her death and he did not want to be here. There were far too many memories that haunted each of the rooms and today they were hitting him full force.

The sitting room was where she would sometimes spend the evenings mending his favorite shirts, the ones he just couldn't bear the thought of getting rid of. She had extra buttons in a jar sitting on the side table next to the sofa. She would curl up into the corner of the sofa with her feet tucked under her and chatter about her day. Sometimes it was about something interesting that had happened at work, occasionally she would have taken the day off to visit her mother or spend an afternoon shopping and having lunch with Ginny and Luna.

Harry would sit at the other end of the sofa with his feet nudging her legs and listen to her with an amused smile. He loved the sound of her voice, how her face would scrunch up with concentration, or the way she tried to tame her hair with a braid, but it would start coming loose and bits would stick out in every direction.

The kitchen was where she would stand at the cooker with a wooden spoon in her hand and dance barefoot while she made dinner. Sometimes Harry would sneak up behind her to snake his arms around her waist and rest his chin on her shoulder, just so that he could dance with her. She would sing some nameless tune and he would sway back and forth with her, his lips against her neck as she tried not to giggle while she sang.

In a few weeks, the back garden, which was right now drowning in rain and mud, would start to bloom with all of her flowers. She had loved wildflowers and daisies. She had tried to grow roses a few times, but had decided that they were too stuffy for her back garden and had eventually dug them up and given them to Ginny and Neville for their front lawn.

Harry wandered down the hall, poking his head into the loo. The pale green tiles needed scrubbing and a bottle of shampoo had somehow got knocked over and dribbled all over the shower floor. The showerhead, which had dripped for so many years until Harry had finally called a plumber to fix it, pointed at the angle she had always preferred. He sat on the closed toilet seat for a moment, letting his memories skim over the mornings when he had shaved while she showered. With a sigh he got back to his feet.

He made it to the bedroom, but stopped with his hand just an inch from the knob. He felt tears threatening and, after a moment, he dropped his hand down. The memories of that room would be too overwhelming. The bedroom would have to wait.

He walked back into the sitting room and lowered himself to the sofa, burying his head in his hands. Why was he here? Why had he thought this was a good idea? She had been dead for five years and it was still too soon, the memories too much to bear.

A noise from the entry alerted him and he raised his head to see Severus step into the room. He stopped at the entry, crossed his arms over his chest and gazed impassively at Harry. "I surmised you would be here today."

"I can't do it, Severus," he said in a pained whisper. "It's too soon."

Severus didn't move. "It's been five years, Harry. You need to make a decision."

"I miss her so much. Being here just makes it worse."

"Will you at least have Draco send over a couple of house elves to clean?" Severus finally walked over to stand next to where Harry was seated.

Harry nodded, his head still bowed. "I'll ask him tonight."

"Does he know you're here?"

"No," Harry muttered. "I couldn't find the words to tell him."

"You know he'll understand," Severus said. "She was your wife for nearly twenty years."

Harry finally looked up. "Sit down, Severus, stop hovering over me."

"I am not going to sit on that filthy sofa."

"Cleaning charm," Harry said with a small, sad smile and pulled out his wand. A moment later, the sofa was dust free.

Severus perched on the edge of the sofa. "Harry, you can't keep going on like this. You've been pretending for five years now that you're over her death. You're hurting yourself, Draco and to some extent your friends by not trying to deal with it."

"This from the man who has mourned the loss of my mother for more than forty years." Harry murmured.

Severus scowled. "I can leave if you're just going to be cruel."

"No," Harry put a hand on Severus's arm. "I'm sorry. I know you're only trying to help."

They were silent for a few minutes until suddenly Harry began to talk. "She used to sit over there in the evenings and I'd sit here, and we'd talk about our day."

Severus nodded, acknowledging that he was listening, but not interrupting. Harry was glad for that, because suddenly he needed to tell her stories, tell about the love and the memories.

He told Severus about dancing in the kitchen and the back garden with its flowers. He talked about fixing a leak in the roof with her standing at the base of the ladder, not saying anything, just watching out for him.

"She would sit on a chair in the middle of the lawn when I would mow and smirk at me. I'm fairly certain that Draco taught her how to do that. Before we became friends with him, I had never seen her smirk. When I got to the section of grass that she was sitting in, I'd levitate the chair with her in it to a finished section of lawn and she would pick it up and move it to a part of the lawn I hadn't mowed yet." Harry smiled at the memory. "I used to get so annoyed with her and she'd just laugh."

The stories went on for hours. Each room had so many memories, most of which were happy. A few were sad or angry, but Harry told them all. He walked once more from room to room, his shoulders hunched and his muscles tight across his back. Finally, he stood once again at the bedroom door, his hand hovering just above the knob. With a rush of courage, he grasped the knob and threw the door open, stepping inside.

The double bed was neatly made, the once colourful quilt that had been a wedding gift from her mother was pulled up over the pillows. Harry stood next to the bed, his hand stroking the dusty quilt. "This was her side of the bed. She used to steal my old shirts and wear them to sleep in. She told me they were the most comfortable things to wear, but I think she did it because she knew I thought it was sexy. I loved seeing her in my shirts, how the tails would hang down to her knees, but the sides would rise up and hint at hidden things. I knew that all I had to do was reach out and…" his voice trailed off.

Harry moved over the dresser. The top of it was covered with scattered hair combs and barrettes. "She used to love the hair things that had the jewels in them. She rarely wore any makeup, but she loved to dress up her hair." Harry laughed suddenly. "Which is funny because her hair was almost as unmanageable as mine is."

He turned to look at Severus, one of her combs clenched in his fist. "Why," he asked in a broken voice. "Why her?"

Severus looked uncomfortable, but moved to take Harry's hand. "I don't know," he said sadly. He plucked the comb out of Harry's hand and returned it to the dresser. Harry lowered his head to Severus's shoulder, still clutching his hand and finally gave into the tears.

"Lily liked the pretty hair things also," Severus said unexpectedly, his voice soft. "One day she came into Charms class with this thing in her hair that had feathers on it. I thought your father would burst he was trying so hard not to laugh."

Harry realised through the tears that they were rocking back and forth very slightly, as if Severus were comforting a child. "She had this one band in second year that she used when she braided her hair. It had all these beads attached to it," Severus continued. "She told me that it weighed a ton, but she liked it too much to stop wearing it."

Harry felt the grief and heartache inside him ease just a little bit.  "Do you miss her still?" he whispered.

"Every day," Severus said, his voice gruff with emotion. "Every moment."

"How do you live with that?" Harry's voice was small and frightened.

"You've done part of it already," Severus replied. "You've found someone else to love, you're building a new life. The pain will ease with more time."

Harry nodded and took a step back. He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his face with it. "Thank you," he said seriously. "I think I can do this now."

Severus nodded. "Call me when you're ready to pack up her belongings."

Harry smiled and it felt…better, easier. He followed Severus out of the bedroom, then out of the house. The thunderstorm had passed and a light rain was falling. He pulled his cloak tighter around him as he locked the front door and set the wards. He knew he would be back soon. It was time.