Harry doesn’t quite remember how it started. Sometimes he tries to dig through his memories to recognize how they got to this point, but he struggles to remember a time when it wasn’t happening. It was just a part of his life that he was a willing participant of on some days and crying himself to sleep at night about it on others.

Everything seems so fuzzy sometimes, like he can't tell the difference between fiction and reality, nor can he distinguish the daydreams from the nightmares.

It’s like one day he was perfectly fine, and the next he just… snapped.

***

“Professor Potter?” came a timid voice from the middle of the room while the rest of the class filed out. Harry glanced up from the assigned essays from his desk, noting that the girl speaking had not returned hers yet. He went over to the third year Hufflepuff, smiling kindly.

“Yes, Miss Awlyn? Did you need some help with the assignment?”

The girl looked confused for a moment before she flushed, turning to dig the parchment out of her bag and handing it to Harry. “N-no sir, I did it. I just…” she glanced at the open doors. “Are you busy right now?”

Harry followed her gaze and flicked his wand to softly close the doors before sitting down on the stool next to her. “Last class of the day for both of us, so I’m not busy,” he said.

“I know,” she smiled shyly. “That’s why I thought now would be a good time…”

“A good time for what, Amelia?” Harry asked kindly. Harry hadn’t been the DADA teacher for very long, it was February of his first year, but he had really enjoyed it so far. Harry didn’t play favorites but if he did, well… Amelia would definitely be one of them. She was a promising student and seemed to like Harry as a professor, not because he was famous, but simply because Harry was (or so he hoped) a good teacher.

All that to say; though Amelia was a Hufflepuff, she was not usually so reserved. She had a very outgoing personality and to have her be so quiet now told Harry that something must be bothering her.

“Well,” she said, scratching at her wrists under the sleeves of her robes. “I don’t really know how to say it, or if I even should, or why it would matter to you in the least, but I just- feel like I should, like I need to… but it might be silly…”

“It’s not silly if it’s bothering you,” Harry assured. “And I’m here to listen. Trust me, I’ve heard it all.”

Amelia huffed. “Well then, have you heard of brothers m-messing around with their sisters?”

Yes, actually, Harry was rather familiar with that one.

***

Harry stares out of the car window at the houses as they pass by, thinking about how many people there are in the world and how many lives are being lived and yet the only one he ever thinks about is his own and occasionally the people around him. But yet, there are countless houses they drive by every day and yet it’s nowhere near a fraction of the world population and the simple fact is that Harry’s existence is so horrifically insignificant, and at the end of the day, in the grand scheme of things, his trials mean absolutely nothing and he knows this and yet, and yet…

Something so stupid and deluded feels like it will be the thing that breaks him, the thing that ends the world when in reality it’s just his own little world and the lack of him in it would affect absolutely no one.

***

Harry’s palms were sweaty and his face felt hot as he made his way to the headmaster’s office. He felt like a first year on his way to the Potion’s classroom again, though he hadn’t really been afraid of Snape in years. Even before the man had nearly bled to death in front of him in the Shrieking Shack and shared his memories and the truth of his alliance with Harry, he had seen far too many things at that point for Snape’s dour personality to be considered something he feared anymore.

He wasn’t nervous about seeing Snape, not really. He’d be nervous seeing anybody just now, even his own reflection. He’d used up all his brevity on Amelia today, he didn’t have any left for the general public. And now he had to report what the girl had told him about her home life because that’s what responsible teachers did. Nevermind that that never did anything for him, he now had to do it for someone else.

“I’m here to see Headmaster Snape,” Harry told the gargoyle shakily. One of the good things that had come from Dumbledore’s departure at least was the removal of the password for the headmaster’s office. It had always seemed a bit ridiculous to Harry that one couldn’t even request to see the headmaster without obtaining the password. Apparently he wasn’t alone in this thought.

The gargoyle stood aside to reveal the staircase, so Snape must’ve been in a good mood today. Or maybe he was just treating him with professional courtesy these days. It wasn’t as though Snape had had much desire to speak to Harry since that fateful night in the Shrieking Shack. Harry wasn’t sure if he preferred this distance over the previous animosity. He was a bit surprised his DADA job application hadn’t been thrown out the window, but then again, it might have been the only one.

Snape eyed Harry warily as he stepped into the office. The man looked tired, but most people did these days. Even nearly five years removed from the end of the war, the scars still remained, emotional and physcial. Case in point, the large scar from the snake bite Harry knew was hidden underneath the man’s turtleneck.

“Have a seat,” Snape said, waving unenthusiastically to one in front of his desk. At least that touch of Dumbledore still remained, as he’d always had very comfortable chairs to scold you in as opposed to the high backed torture chairs in Snape’s old office in the dungeons.

Harry sat, just barely resisting the urge to do so on top of his sweaty palms. He was twenty-two years old and he could conduct himself as an adult. He was a professor at this school. He was so far removed from the past now that it didn’t even matter anymore. He was here for Amelia, and it didn’t matter what sort of memories it brought up for Harry. It didn’t matter one bit.

“Did you wish to speak to me about something?” Snape asked, his focus taken away from Harry and to the parchments on his desk. Harry was glad for it, as this would be easier to get out with the man’s attention elsewhere.

“Yes, Headmaster,” Harry said professionally. He almost found it funny, then, how Snape and he could share the history that they did and still just sit here like cordial diplomats, as though Snape had never berated Harry almost daily for six years. As though Snape had never been best friends with Harry’s mother.

Harry cleared his throat, folding his hands together in his lap, hoping to hide how horrendously uncomfortable he felt and knowing that he was failing miserably.

“Well, Potter?” Snape questioned, just one shade shy of snide, and it made Harry feel better knowing he wasn’t the only one struggling to keep in character for this role of amiable co-workers. Black eyes peered up at him for just a second before flicking back down.

“Yes,” Harry said again, nodding ridiculously. “Uh, well, see the thing is,” I’d like to be anywhere but here “I needed to tell you, a student approached me today with some, er, implications, well, implications isn’t exactly the right word, I guess-”

“What was the problem, Potter?”

“She told me that her brother was molesting her, sir.” Rip it off like a Band-Aid. Snape would know what a Band-Aid was because he was raised in a muggle neighborhood with Harry’s muggleborn mother, and Amelia would also know because she was also a muggleborn and Hogwarts, just as it was for Harry, was her escape from-

Snape’s quil snapped. Harry flinched.

***

“I don’t want to”, Harry cries. “Please, Dudley, please, I don’t… I don’t want to do it, please.”

***

“Are you quite alright, Professor Potter?” Snape asked evenly.

“Yes,” Harry lied. “I’m fine.”

“I realize that this subject makes you uncomfortable,” Snape said, adjusting his collar, “as it does most people. However, do realize that Amelia Awlyn is not the first case of sexual abuse Hogwarts has seen, and she more than likely will not be the last. These are the sort of things one must grow used to taking care of as a teacher in this school, in any school. While we are unable to prevent these things from happening, the important thing is that we are doing all we can to help now.”

Harry wondered where all this help was when he was attending Hogwarts.

Snape glanced at Harry and sniffed. “You did the right thing in coming to me.”

Harry tried to alter his memory and imagine what it would sound like to hear those words in Dumbledore’s voice.

***

“I’ll tell your parents,” Harry says. It’s an empty threat, one that never, ever plays out, and he’s terrified of the day that Dudley realizes that Harry will never be brave enough to tell. But for now, it works, and Dudley leaves him be.

Harry wonders why he fights so hard sometimes and simply gives in other times. Does that mean he wants it? Does that make it his fault?

He never tells. He simply can’t get the words out.

***

Snape knocked on the door. Harry wondered if he’d be able to, given the need. It didn’t matter because Snape took control and it made things easier for Harry.

Harry went through the motions. Follow Snape through the door. Close the door behind him. Follow Snape who followed Amelia’s parents into the living room. Sit next to Snape on the couch across from Amelia’s parents. Take tea when it is offered. Let it sit and get cold on the coffee table.

Smile.

***

“This guy was coming onto this girl really strong, like it was awful… so I punched him. I mean, you don’t treat chicks like that,” Dudley says, boasting about proving himself to be a gentleman or something. Harry wonders what’s going on in Dudley’s head and if what he’s done to his cousin is given even just a fleeting thought when these situations arise.

Because every time Harry hears about these things, he feels sick. When the news reports on rapists and sexual assault allegations, he feels as if every eye is turned onto him even when he has never told anyone, never!

He wonders if he should, but the words get muddled in his mind before they can even consider getting choked in his throat.

***

“She told you what?”

“Did you know?” Snape asked seriously.

Harry stared at the floral wallpaper. It reminded him faintly of the walls of the hallway at Privet Drive and it made him feel itchy underneath his skin.

“Of course we didn’t know, you nutjob! I don’t know how you people go about it in that magic world of yours, but we certainly-”

“I had to ask,” Snape said smoothly. “You’d be surprised at the sort of things that go on behind closed doors.”

Harry doubted that he would.

“What- what do we do now?” Mr. Awlyn asked frantically. “How could this have happened-”

“I would seriously consider separating the children long term-”

“You mean take one of them out of our home? But they’re our children, we can’t possibly-”

“She said he’s not doing it anymore, right? So it can’t really be that desperate?”

“Does it matter?” Harry asked, speaking up for the first time. “It obviously bothers her otherwise she wouldn’t have told me and asked me to do something about it.”

“Just, look- You’re that Harold Pothead guy, right?”

“I wish I was a pothead rather than a Potter, I’d probably be a much happier person,” Harry said seriously.

“Professor Potter,” Snape drawled warningly.

“Amelia told us, you- you defeated that Voldemort guy, right? Surely, going through something like that is so much more-”

“I’m just going to stop you there before my head spontaneously combusts. I don’t- I don’t even know how to respond to that? That’s literally the most horrible thing I have ever heard come out of a parent’s mouth and let me tell you; I have heard some things-”

“Potter-”

“I’m just saying! You cannot seriously think that something like this is anywhere near of significant as-”

“I can, in fact, tell you from personal experience that I have a lot less nightmares about Lord Voldemort than other things that have occurred in my life.”

“You don’t have children, do you, Professor Potter?” Mrs. Awlyn asked quietly. “How can you possibly understand the situation we’re in-”

“No, ma’am, I do not have children,” Harry said coolly. “That doesn’t make me any less capable of human emotion, and I can certainly sympathize with you. But I sympathize a hell of a lot more with your thirteen year old daughter who hasn’t done anything wrong-”

***

“I gave Dudley mine,” Harry says quietly. “I was just hoping, maybe- you could take me to the store to get another? I’ll pay for it, I just-”

Uncle Vernon rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t have given yours to Dudley if it meant so much to you.”

Harry wants to bawl his eyes out, scream that he didn’t have a choice, he had been blackmailed. He had lost so much more than just some stupid comic book he’d traded so that Dudley would keep quiet about the freaky things that made his aunt and uncle so upset. He had sold himself like some sort of… like a whore.

Those are the things he can’t bear to speak. He can’t say that something is going on, because deep down he knows that it’s his fault. It wasn’t as though Dudley was holding a gun to his head. On some level, Harry must want this.

And so it continues.

***

“Go back to Hogwarts. I will deal with you later,” Snape told him quietly in the hallway.

“Yeah, because I’m the one being unreasonable here,” Harry said snidely.

“You are- too close to the situation.”

“Who’s going to advocate for Amelia, then? You can’t seriously think that this is acceptable-”

“I will deal with it, Potter. You have had far more time to process this than Mr. and Mrs. Awlyn, they just need a moment without someone screaming at them-”

“I have, like, two hours on them and it never once occurred to me to blame the victim-”

“I’m sure,” said Snape. “Just- please. I promise I will not allow Miss Awlyn to return to an abusive situation. Go back to Hogwarts, Harry.”

Harry stared at the wall, swallowing. “Alright,” he said, finally admitting defeat. “I’ll go.”

***

If it isn’t a big deal why does it haunt me in the middle of the night!? If it doesn’t matter, why does it feel like it does! Why does it feel like it’s weighing me down and destroying my soul??

Harry’s force grip on his pen his so harsh he rips the paper of his journal, because yes, he has a fucking diary like a fucking girl, and he doesn’t care, doesn’t care, doesn’t care.

I can hear him snoring in the room next to me and it makes me SICK, I hate him, I hate him, I HATE HIM.

And nothing matters but yet everything matters, he can’t handle anything, he overreacts to everything. Pretty much anything will push him to burst into tears and he has no idea why he’s an emotional disaster, he just is. Sleepless nights and endless pain, willing to do anything just in order to feel something.

Maybe that’s why he thinks that running a blade across his skin might help. It doesn’t, not really, but he keeps trying it anyway.

***

Harry had a lot of books. It made him feel smart. He was going to read them, one day. Reorganizing the bookshelf was enough to occupy his mind for now.

Home was always an abstract theory and Harry had never felt more at home than at Hogwarts. He could feel just as confined in his office as he had in his cupboard at the Dursleys.

Snape came into his office and Harry immediately felt as defensive as he had when Dudley had crept into his cupboard at night.

“I’d apologize for my conduct but I’m not sorry and I hate to lie,” Harry said, facing his bookshelf because he refused to face Snape, lest his anger turned to tears. So what if he got fired? It was always only just a matter of time, Snape hated him. So what if this was the same Snape who had hired Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. It didn’t mean he’d changed his opinions of them any.

“I’d hazard a guess that you’re actually quite proficient at lying,” Snape said. Harry could sense him taking a seat in front of his desk, making himself comfortable in Harry’s safe place. It made him angry.

“Well you’ve made a lot of guesses about me, Headmaster, and it’s safe to assume that most of those were incorrect assessments.”

“You are very emotional.”

“Yes, well, I easily could’ve been sorted into Hufflepuff.”

“You easily could’ve been sorted into Slytherin,” said Snape. “And I know that for a fact. I’ve always wondered why that would be a suitable placement, but now I think I know.”

Harry smiled bitterly down at the cover of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. “You know everything, don’t you?”

“Clearly not. I think I’ve learned more about you today than I have in the past twelve years.”

And it was horrifying, wasn’t it? That the man had known him for over a decade, had known of him for over two, since before he was even born, and he didn’t even know him at all. Harry knew more about Severus Snape than he knew about Harry Potter, the most famous wizard in the world. And yet nobody knew anything about him. Not really.

Except now Snape knew, because it’s always fucking Snape who saw every horrible thing about him, every single square foot and terrible detail of his shriveling soul. He was the one who had always known that Harry wasn’t worth anything at all.

“Have you come here to shame me, Professor?” Harry asked snidely. “Because you’re a bit late to the party.”

“Because you have plenty of that for yourself?”

“I have nothing to be ashamed of,” Harry hissed.

“I agree, said Snape. “But do you?”

***

Dudley showed him how to hump his pillow and Harry used to think that he had done him a favor.

It’s supposed to feel good, but the sickness climbs up his throat and the shame threatens to overtake him and he doesn’t know why he keeps doing it.

The guilt claws at his insides, he can’t breathe… This is such a dirty thing to do, and he hates it when Dudley does it to him and he’s not even sure why because he knows that he likes the feeling, the friction of their underwear rubbing against each other as Dudley pins him down by his wrist, back against the carpet, and grinds. Their uncle is just in the next room, but Harry doesn’t call out for his help because he simply can not handle the embarrassment, the shame, the admittance that he even knows that sex exists. His aunt and uncle have never mentioned the matter to him, so obviously he shouldn’t know about it at this age. He shouldn’t be a dirty little boy like this. It’s his and Dudley’s secret and he can’t talk about it with others, he’s not supposed to, he only talks to Dudley about it because he brings it up and they both know about it and who else can he talk to? They look at dirty magazines together that bring no arousal to Harry but Dudley seems absolutely fantasized…

Sometimes Harry thinks that maybe yeah, it wasn’t a big deal at all. It’s just a thing that kids do and he’s overreacting, but then he remembers the feel of the carpet burning against his back as Dudley straddles him and lifts his shirt and sucks on his skin and the feeling of a blade digging into his thighs as he waits for the next attack because surely it just can’t be over just like that.

***

“You took the conversation with the Awlyns very personally.”

“I care a great deal about my students' well-being. I know you can’t relate, but…”

“You’ve been taking your anger out on someone else who is unrelated to-”

“That is a very bold statement coming from you, Professor.”

“That is precisely why I can tell you from firsthand experience that turning your pain outward does not help.” Snape’s eyes flashed. “Nor does turning it inward.”

***

Sometimes, and he is ashamed to admit it, Harry skips meals just to see if they’ll notice.

He knows that it makes him something of an attention whore, but he just can’t seem to help himself. He likes to see how far he can go with as few calories as he allows himself. He enjoys the feeling of being lightheaded and weak, like maybe if he can appear half as broken on the outside as he feels on the inside, someone will realize, someone will rescue him and make all the pain go away.

Sometimes, Harry skips meals just to see if they’ll notice.

They never do, and Harry hates himself more than anyone that has ever existed.

***

“So, just to be clear, your cousin molested you throughout your childhood, you did eventually inform your guardians of this and they did absolutely nothing?”

***

“He was old enough to know what he was doing-”

“And you should be old enough to know not to get involved in all of this business!”

Harry sits there in silent disbelief. Could the two really be compared? How is his being a wizard, something that he can’t even help if he wanted to, even come close to being considered a crime like, like…

He knew that they didn’t care. Not really. But until this very moment, it has never occurred to him just how much they truly do not give a shit.

***

“I think abuse is a really strong word for the situation at hand. And I know, I know, everyone who’s abused says that but like, it’s… I mean they care about me and they don’t try to hurt me. It’s just, like, we… We have a moral disagreement? I know that logically they- they’re right, but I… I just can’t let it go. I mean I can, it’s over and done with and I could probably forget all about it if I tried, but I don’t want to. I shouldn’t have to. It’s like there’s just, like, this big injustice and I don’t want to ignore it.”

“Just because they don’t actively try to hurt you doesn’t mean that they don’t hurt you,” Snape said snidely. “I tried to hurt you and you don’t seem to suffer panic attacks from it, do you?”

“Maybe the occasional nightmare,” Harry mumbled, as a joke. It didn’t land.

***

Harry knows that while he may not be his aunt and uncle’s biological child, they still took him in. They still take care of him. Dudley gets into a lot of trouble, at school, at home, anywhere he goes, really. Harry knows that he is the good child.

But that doesn’t mean that he is the most loved child.

The way they look at their son will never compare to the way they look at Harry. No matter how much they do for him, there’s always the underlying knowledge that Harry was not planned, Harry had not been asked for, Harry was left abandoned on the doorstep, Harry is a guest. Harry’s good behavior means that he is to be held up on a pedestal and should he fall, the skinned knee is on him.

Aunt Petunia has never let him eat in his room when he was sick. Uncle Vernon has never offered to take Harry to the movies on his birthday. Dudley has been given countless second chances, so many mistakes have been simply forgotten...

Harry is jealous.

He wonders if there’s something wrong with them or if there’s just something wrong with him.

No matter how many times they remind him of all the things they’ve done for him, he will never be their child. It is crystal clear whom they value above all else.

***

“I don’t need a home intervention, Snape.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I am twenty-two years old-”

Snape snorted. “Yes, you are twenty-two. You speak as though that’s some astronomical age in which trauma stops being relevant. There is no statute of limitations on pain.”

Harry shrugged, not knowing what to say to that.

“A students' well-being doesn’t stop being my responsibility to me the day they graduate. I truly have no qualms about making a home visit if that’s what you need to heal. You were my student and I missed this. It’s not something I feel can or should be taken lightly.”

“That’s really nice,” Harry said quietly. “But I’ve already had a home visit from the headmaster. And he didn’t do anything but make them resent me more because I told someone outside the home and ruined our picture perfect family image.”

“Albus knew about this.” It wasn’t a question.

Harry was running out of books to sort through. “The previous administration wasn’t quite as… accommodating, as you. It hardly mattered what happened to me in the past, as long as it didn’t happen to someone else in the future.”

The pain of those soft spoken words laced in kindness to his thirteen year old self still stung Harry’s skin more than any Cruciatus curse he’d ever experienced.

There was a long moment of silence. “I suppose he would be upset that I just broke up a family,” Snape said after a moment. “After all, families love one another and any issues they have can and should be worked out in private.”

The sarcasm in his voice was bitter and Harry found he could relate to it. And there was so much peace there, knowing, if not in so many words, that Snape understood. That Snape didn’t agree with Dumbledore. That what happened to Harry was wrong and it was valid for him to feel wronged by it.

***

He can not get the words to exit his mouth, even as Aunt Petunia runs his fingers through his hair. He simply can not cry any more. He had always been the biggest cry baby, but he can no longer get moisture to escape his eyes.

“What’s going on, Harry? You can tell me anything, you know.”

The words sound beautiful in his head, but Harry knows he’ll never hear them. It’s nothing more than a fantasy. The only thing that’s real is the painful lack of tears. He’ll never feel Aunt Petunia’s fingers running through his hair. He’ll only feel the bitter disappointment as he watches Dudley receive everything he’s ever wanted, and the heavy feel of a body hovering over him as Dudley takes anything he wants.

***

“Miss Awlyn’s brother will be going to summer camp this year until a more permanent solution can be decided. Miss Awlyn herself will be going to therapy, both with her parents and by herself.”

“Good,” Harry sniffed. “Seems like they could use it more than her.”

“Yes, because therapy wouldn’t help her at all.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Would the Dursleys benefit from family therapy?”

The use of their actual name startled Harry into dropping a book on the floor. He picked it up, wiping invisible smudges off the cover. “I don’t know why you keep circling back to them.”

“I feel their involvement is fairly relevant to this conversation.”

“It’s been more than a decade since it mattered.”

“I highly doubt that. I’d argue that it has affected you nearly every day through these last few years.”

“Maybe I’m more resilient than you think.”

“I think you’re more resilient than you think. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t bother you, and it’s not a weakness to ask for help.”

“I’m-” a knock came at the door, cutting off whatever Harry thought to say. It was a welcome distraction. “Come- come in.”

Amelia Awlyn entered the room, and Harry gave up the pretense of sorting his books in something of an alphabetical order and went over to his desk. “Miss Awlyn, uh, come in, sit down.”

Amelia gave a sideways glance at Snape but sat in the chair next to him nonetheless. “Headmaster Snape, Professor Potter,” she greeted cheerfully.

Snape nodded and Harry gave her a strained smile. “What’s- what’s up?” he asked awkwardly.

“Um, I was just wondering, have you graded the assignments from this afternoon yet? Because I was thinking, my mind was on other things and I think I probably messed up a lot and I would like to correct it, if it’s not too late.”

It was definitely too late as the assignment was due that afternoon and Amelia had been the last to turn hers in, but Harry had never been the most strict teacher. “I- Yes, the essays have definitely been at the front of my mind these past few hours, but I haven’t gotten to grading them just yet, uh-” he looked around his desk before remembering they were still on the desk in his classroom and summoning them. Amelia’s was on the top of the stack and he handed it to her, grimacing at the handwriting of the parchment under hers. That would be fun to try to comprehend.

Amelia smiled. “Thank you! When- uh, how long can I have to rewrite it?”

“I’m sure it’s fine as it is, Miss Awlyn, but just- Get it back to me whenever, anytime is fine.”

Amelia looked surprised and Snape raised his eyebrows. Harry ignored them both, pretending to actually care about the essays in his hands.

“Well, alright, I’ll- I’ll be sure to get it back to you on Monday, or over the weekend if I see you, I’m sure it won’t take me long.”

Harry nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Great!” She went to the door, but hesitated before leaving.

“Um, Professor Potter?”

“Mhmm?”

“Thanks for today. What we talked about after class, I mean. It helped. You’re really good at talking to people.”

A painful sort of laugh exited Harry’s throat. “Oh, erm… Thank you, Amelia. I can’t say I’ve heard that one before…”

Amelia grinned. “Well, you are. See you later!” she said before bolting out the room. He hadn’t even had room to ask her if she was okay. Harry blew out a heavy breath.

“Have you been holding that in this entire time?”

“No,” Harry said indignantly, though he found that his breaths came a little easier now that the girl was gone.

“Do you really think it’s appropriate to neglect due dates on assignments?”

“Do you really think I have any intention of grading these anytime in the near future?” Harry asked, tossing the essays on his desk before flopping down in his chair and rubbing his temples.

Snape studied him closely. “You should leave the castle for a few days.”

“Am I being banished for emotional instability?”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Not many people would be allowed here if that were the standard. No, I simply believe that you would benefit from the weekend off.” He stood. “It’s up to you. It’s not against the law to take a break.”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe I will,” Harry said, staring down at the mess of parchment on his desk. He could spend the weekend at Grimmauld Place in Sirius’ old room, wallowing in self pity. It sounded very tempting just then.

“Try not to stay in one place for too long,” Snape said as he made to leave. “It’s not good for blood circulation.”

***

Sometimes, Harry is a screamer.

“Boys!” Aunt Petunia snaps. “Stop fighting.”

“Dudley won’t stop-”

“And you are always crying wolf, boy!” Uncle Vernon shouts. “You don’t scream like that unless someone is trying to kill you, alright?”

No, he wasn’t trying to kill me, Harry thinks. Just trying to molest me, but what the fuck does that matter? It never fucking matters how much he hurts me, as long as I’m still alive by the end of it.

***

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and Harry was spending it staring at the door of 4 Privet Drive. What he was doing here, he had no clue. The urge for closure had crept up on him again so he’d come here in a fruitless effort to obtain it.

He felt so childish, all of a sudden. Twenty-two and still groveling in the pain of something that had last happened to him over ten years ago. They hadn’t cared when he was thirteen or sixteen, so why would they now that he was a grown adult still seeking validation for his efforts like a toddler?

He hadn’t spoken to the Dursleys since they’d said goodbye that fateful July he’d turned seventeen. He still thought about them every day and wondered if they did the same.

If nothing else was achieved from this visit then at least maybe the memory of him being here again could haunt them for a couple of days. He knocked on the door. It opened far quicker than he’d expected, revealing a flustered looking Aunt Petunia.

“Er- Hi.”

“Oh Dear God, what have I done to deserve this?” Aunt Petunia asked, seemingly to the sky.

“Well, geez, nice to see you, too.”

Aunt Petunia opened the door wider to reveal Uncle Vernon and another man in the foyer. The man had his back to Harry but Harry recognized him immediately.

“What are you doing here?” Harry demanded.

“I could ask you the same,” Snape said, turning to face him, dour expression and all.

“Me?” Harry sputtered. “It’s my- I- I live- ed here.”

“I don’t know what either one of you is doing here!” Uncle Vernon barked. “You don’t live here anymore, boy, we haven’t heard a peep out of you in five years and it’s been down right peaceful, it has!”

“Oh, my, please don’t get emotional over me, Uncle Vernon. I have missed you so much too,” Harry cooed. “I’ve got to say, TV really doesn’t give family reunions justice.”

“Harry, surely you can understand, this is quite a surprise,” Aunt Petunia said placatingly. “It’s been so long and we’ve just- we’ve been concerned, is all.”

“Really?” Harry deadpanned. “Because it’s not like I haven’t written letters or anything.”

“You know we can’t fool with those blasted owls,” Uncle Vernon grouched.

“And you’ve taken up a problem with telephones as well? Because I’ve gotten the dial tone after hello an awful lot,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. Snape, what are you doing here? I’m pretty sure I told you not to come here.”

“You often mistake what is best for you,” Snape sniffed. “I wanted to make sure things were taken care of properly.”

“You told him,” Aunt Petunia hissed in his ear. “About, about-”

“About what, Aunt Petunia?” Harry asked loudly. “Since I’m the only one who can put a word to it, I think I should be allowed to tell anyone I want about it.”

“It’s a private family matter,” she murmured. “Harry, it’s simply not appropriate…”

Anger rolled through Harry in hot waves and he pressed his nails into his arms trying to calm himself, but it did not work. “Why the fuck is it inappropriate for me to talk about it but it’s not a problem when it happens? Explain it to me, please, because I’d really like to understand. Is it because Dudley’s life is more important than mine? Is it because it doesn’t matter what the fuck he does, as long as the person he did it to keeps his mouth shut because then it doesn’t have to affect him and his future at all, right?”

“It’s not like that-”

“It is exactly fucking like that. Don’t tell me how to feel about it, I’m tired of censoring my emotions to please you two when you can’t even give me the courtesy of a single phone call!”

“Listen here boy, you know how we feel about the stuff you’re involved in-”

“And you know how I feel about Dudley. That doesn’t change the way you feel about him, so just because you have a problem with, God forbid, magic existing, doesn’t mean that I should have to rearrange my life just so you’ll speak to me.”

“Mum? Dad? What’s going on-” Dudley’s voice came from above, and Harry looked up to see him standing on the stairs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes at one thirty in the afternoon. They made eye contact, and Dudley smiled at him. He bounded down the stairs and came to Harry, throwing his arms around him in a familiar but unwelcomed embrace. He was too close, too close, and Harry was suffocating. He pushed his cousin away from him.

“I think- I think I need to go now,” Harry said faintly but firmly, wiping invisible grime off his clothes.

“What? But you’ve only just gotten here, I haven’t seen you in ages-”

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” Harry said. “Lovely to see you all, really, great conversation.” He glanced at Snape, the man’s calm facade only serving to further piss him off. “So, yeah, bye.”

Harry left Privet Drive.

***

“Why do you hate me so much?” Dudley asks.

Harry frowns as he stares down at the words in his book. He hasn’t meant to make it so glaringly obvious, really. He’s tried to be okay with everything… But every time Dudley throws an arm over his shoulder and tries to pull him into a hug, Harry feels sick. He can’t prevent himself from attempting to pull away. And when Dudley only keeps his hold, Harry feels as though he might suffocate in his panic.

Snide remarks and quips are too fresh on the tip of his tongue not to be released. It’s as though he simply has to let the world know just how much he despises his cousin, otherwise, he might burst.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have noticed and haven’t appreciated it, of course, but it wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary. Dudley and Harry have never been best friends, they’ve had quite violent physical fights since they were little kids. Harry rarely ever won and his aunt and uncle never did much to stop the fighting besides telling them to stop. Because doing so clearly worked…

He didn’t realize that Dudley had noticed a change, though. He was awfully slow at times and Harry had thought he was being subtle. If they were going to be blunt with one another now…

Harry looks up from his book to his cousin. He’s standing in the kitchen, going through the cabinets. Their guardians aren’t home at the present moment and Dudley is taking the opportunity to pig out. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

Dudley shrugs. “I know we haven’t always gotten along, but you’ve been super aggressive lately.”

“Maybe I’m just a little upset over what you did to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Harry’s mouth feels dry as he manages to croak, “Don’t tell me you don’t remember what you used to do to me. The- the sex.” The word feels dirty on his tongue and he spits it out of his mouth.

Dudley is quiet for a moment before he snorts. “Are you being for real? You’re mad about that? It wasn’t even a big deal!”

“People go to jail for that kind of shit, Dudley. I think that it’s a big deal.”

“We were kids,” Dudley argues, growing angry. “It literally doesn’t matter, it wasn’t even actual sex so it’s not like I popped your cherry or something.”

And Harry knows that, really. Sort of. He knows that Dudley and he are the same age, it’s not as if an adult had molested him. Dudley really hadn’t even molested him. Children… touched each other. It’s perfectly innocent.

But then Harry thinks about all the times he said no and Dudley hadn’t listened, how he would pressure him into things that Harry didn’t want to do, how he would pin him down and-

Harry bolts up from his chair and rushes to the bathroom, puking into the toilet and digging his nails into his skin so hard that he bleeds.

***

Harry apparated to the Burrow.

“Harry!” Ginny greeted him enthusiastically. “It’s so good to see you, how have you been?”

Harry put his arms around her, reveling in the feel of a welcomed hug. “I’ve- I’ve been okay. I’ve missed you, all of you. But Hogwarts, it’s great. I- I feel like I really belong.”

Ginny pulled away, smiling at him sadly. “I’ll bet. I’m really happy for you.”

Harry smiled back. “How has the Quidditch season been going? I mean, I know you’re on top right now, but do you think you’ll make it to the World Cup?”

“Of course we will,” Ginny said confidently. “Come on, Mum will want to see you.”

Harry followed her into the house. He hadn’t been around much since he and Ginny had sort of broken up. It wasn’t that they stopped loving each other. Harry was fairly certain if he ever married anyone it would be Ginny. But the timing wasn’t right just then. They were in two different places.

Harry sometimes wondered if he was asexual because he was asexual or because Dudley had ruined the idea of sex for him.

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed upon seeing him. She set her knitting needles down and came over to throw her arms around him. Another welcome hug. “It’s been too long, sweetheart.”

“I know,” said Harry. “I’ve been busy.”

“We were hoping to see you at Christmas,” Mrs. Weasley said, patting his cheeks. “You’ll join us for Easter, won’t you?”

“I’ll try,” Harry said, and found that he actually meant it this time.

“Everyone else is out, I’m afraid. I swear, it seems everyone works at the ministry these days! Arthur, Percy, Ron and Hermione, and on a Sunday, nonetheless! I’m certainly glad that you didn’t go down that road, dear. How is Hogwarts?”

“I really enjoy it,” Harry said genuinely. “Being able to teach it- it’s amazing. The students are great. But Gryfindor is the worst behaved group, to be honest.”

Mrs. Weasley laughed. “Imagine raising seven of them!” Her eyes turned sad, most likely recalling that one of the seven was gone now. “Well, I’m going to fetch some biscuits, make yourself comfortable!”

Ginny flopped down on the sofa and patted the spot next to her, grinning. “Mum’s been on a tirade all day about no one being around here anymore. It kind of feels weird that I’m the only one,” she laughed.

“Well, the Harpies don’t play on Sunday,” Harry said.

“Keep up with me, do you?” Ginny smirked.

“I can’t help that they keep the same schedule as my favorite team,” Harry shrugged.

“Oh? And what’s that? Couldn’t be the Holyhead Harpies, could it?”

Harry was saved from having to respond by Mrs. Weasley coming back into the room with the biscuits. Unfortunately, she came with company.

“Look who else has come to visit!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, coming back into the room with Snape in tow. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Do you make a habit of following me everywhere I go? I’m starting to think you might have a crush on me, Headmaster.”

Snape gave him a blank look.

“Aw, but being your fangirl is my thing,” Ginny said, trying to lighten the mood. “You can’t have replaced me, Professor Potter?”

Harry flushed. “Of course not.”

“I’ve not come to steal your swain, Miss Weasley,” Snape said, clearly uncomfortable. “I simply wish to speak to Potter outside for a moment, if he’s amendable?”

“So diplomatic,” Harry murmured to Ginny, but stood to follow Snape who had already exited the room. They went outside where the sun was still shining brightly. It was an insult to Harry’s inner turmoil.

“What do you want now?” Harry sighed. He had seen more of Snape this one weekend than the past five years.

“Are you alright?”

Harry blinked at Snape. “What?”

“Are. You. All. Right?” Snape gritted out.

“I’m brilliant,” Harry responded flatly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m not sure if you realize, but that was a rather explosive debacle in your relatives home. I assumed you’d be waiting outside but you were nowhere to be found. I went to Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts before realizing you might be here, thank Merlin.”

“You were… looking for me?”

“I do believe I’ve just said that, yes.”

“Oh,” said Harry. “I didn’t expect you to…”

“You wouldn’t.”

“No,” Harry agreed. “I wouldn’t.” He stared out at the field surrounding the Burrow, struggling for words. “I’m… fine. I guess. I mean. That went as well as expected. I don’t even know why I went there today. I guess I was just hoping for something I’ll never get. Some gratification or like, just an apology would be nice. That sounds really snobby, though.”

“It really doesn’t, given the context.”

“Yeah, well. I hate the context. It makes me feel like I’m broken and what’s left of me is shriveling into dust and it’s not a great feeling.”

“I would assume not.”

“I don’t know why you’re being so- understanding, and stuff. It’s out of character and annoying and weird and I don’t like it because it goes against the laws of nature but at the same time it’s nice and it annoys me that it doesn’t actually bother me and it annoys me that you make good points and it makes me feel ridiculous for arguing with you because you’ve yet to say anything I really disagree with or haven’t thought or wanted deep down. Like, I actually want to acknowledge what happened without feeling like I’m crazy and have someone remind me of that, and I think I probably actually want the therapy, too.”

“Then you’ll have it,” Snape said simply.

“Good,” Harry nodded. “Because I deserve it, you know? I do. Maybe I’m being unreasonable and ridiculous but it doesn’t change how I feel and I shouldn’t have to pretend I feel different just because it upsets other people, that’s not my problem.”

“You’re right,” Snape said.

“And no, I’m not really alright, because I feel bad, I feel really bad. Someone wants to make amends with me, the only person in my fucked up family who can stand the sight of me and I just- he makes my skin crawl and I should get over it but I can’t and I don’t know if that makes me wrong or right but I just, I can’t let it go, it’s just not right, it’s- And I’m jealous, I’m jealous of a thirteen year old girl because you’re actually doing something about it for her and it’s not eleven years too late, like what’s she’s going through is so awful and horrible and yet I’m jealous of her.”

“I understand,” Snape said.

“And you know what’s really funny, like totally hilarious? I hate muggles. Absolutely despise them. Kind of hard to rage against Voldemort when I actually agree with him.”

“I highly doubt that you actually agree with the slaughtering of muggles and muggleborns alike,” Snape deadpanned.

“Well, no,” Harry admitted. “But I’ve never met a decent muggle, never, they’re the worst and I can’t stand them.”

“If you say so.”

Harry took a deep breath, clenching his fists. “Alright. Okay. Good. I’d like to go back home now, that seems like a good idea.”

Snape looked confused. “To Grimmauld Place, I presume?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I mean Hogwarts. It’s Hogwarts.”

Snape nodded. “I can understand that, too.”

And Harry believed him. He wasn’t sure if he believed that closure existed or if there was any point to any of this, but he knew that what he was feeling was real and for the first time in his life someone who knew about it didn’t shame him for it, didn’t make him feel crazy for it, actually seemed to agree with him about it.

He realized that it was Snape who had been providing, in his own weird little way, the validation that Harry had been seeking from the Dursleys and Dumbledore for the past decade. It didn’t feel quite as pathetic as it sounded in his head. Maybe it was desperate and needy to want it so bad, but at this moment it felt nothing less than right and natural.

It felt like Harry was twenty-two and wasn’t that far removed from his childhood trauma, but he thought that he might not be so far away from healing from it, either. He doubted that it would ever be something that just ceased to exist in his mind, but maybe one day it wouldn’t be at the forefront of it quite so often. Maybe it would always hold relevance, but maybe that was okay.