Harry poked at his eggs, eating a small bite every few seconds, as his head lay tiredly in his hand. He was exhausted, his nights filled with nightmares and his days filled with absurdly busy classes. His Quidditch practice had also grown in intensity with the first match scheduled for next Saturday. His evenings were filled with detention, Occlumency, and studying or playing chess with Malfoy, though they now also spent time planning their new study group-Duelling Club idea. Most of his free study periods were taken up by training with Alexei which he had begun to fail miserably at, just like Occlumency, since last Thursday’s Occlumency lesson and fight with Sirius. He’d been distracted and ill since, and he knew, not only was it affecting his work, but also people were noticing something was wrong. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Alexei or Snape really started pushing for answers.

He dropped his fork for a moment to rub his eyes under his glasses. When he opened them, he’d been joined by Ron and Hermione, making him sigh. It had been a couple of weeks since their fight in the library and his declaration that Malfoy was his friend. The blonde hadn’t said anything about it, but had seemed to relax a bit more, as though comforted by the declaration of friendship. He had said it in the moment, out of frustration, but he quickly realized he’d meant it. He did think of Malfoy as a friend. He enjoyed spending time with the Slytherin and it felt like they grew closer every time they hung out. It was such that he’d considered actually telling the other boy about everything bothering him, a part of him wanting to confide in someone, but not knowing how.

He picked his fork back up and took a bite of his eggs, looking at Ron and Hermione pointedly.

“We need to talk, mate,” Ron said and Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“About what?” Harry said guardedly.

“About all your secrets, Harry, and why you won’t talk to us anymore,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to talk to people that don’t trust a thing I say and keep prying into my life,” Harry snapped.

“It’s like we don’t even know you, mate,” Ron said and Harry winced at the jolt of pain in his chest with the near repetition of Sirius’ comment.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Harry said, using the pain to fuel his anger to hide just how unstable he felt.

“Come on, Harry,” Ron said with an annoyed eye roll. “You’ve been like a completely different person this summer and since we’ve been back at school.”

“I’ve told you—”

“What Ron’s trying to say is that you seem… distant,” Hermione said. “You obviously went through something, but you’re not letting us in anymore, and we just want to help.”

“I told you what happened,” Harry said, feeling himself growing tense.

“You did,” Hermione agreed, “but we can tell you’re not telling us everything. We’re worried.”

“About what exactly?”

“That someone’s done something to you,” Ron jumped in almost angrily. “Someone’s hurt you, I can tell, and you’re afraid to tell us.”

“What?” Harry said, looking at them with huge eyes. “No one’s done anything to me.”

Hermione reached across the table to rest a hand on his. “Harry, you can tell us. It’s all just very strange, your magic and the men and you defending Malfoy. You seem so angry and sad.”

Harry pulled away from her, and tried to push away the thoughts of Cedric and the Dursleys that were threatening to drown him.

“There’s just some things I don’t want to talk about,” Harry said tightly.

“But you’ll talk to Malfoy,” Ron sneered.

Harry glared at him. “What about it? Why is it such a problem?”

“The fact that you don’t see the problem is what has us so concerned about you!” Ron said. “You have always agreed with us about Malfoy and Slytherin!”

“Harry, just think about what Malfoy’s done to us, to you, the last four years,” Hermione said placatingly. “It’s strange, you have to admit.”

Harry sat back, shoving his breakfast away, and clenched his hands as the feeling of being cornered and trapped bubbled up inside. His magic pulsed in response, creating a pressure in his chest and a heat in his entire body. He fought to keep it controlled. He couldn’t take their pushing, their anger. He knew he had to talk about everything, but he couldn’t with them, not like this.

“I told you,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice even. “We spent the summer together. We…we kind of got to know each other. Things changed.”

“Right, this secret summer of yours,” Ron said. “We hardly heard from you and now you won’t tell us anything. You end up in a safe house, then your relatives die but you don’t seem to care, then you have this weird magic, and you became buddies with Malfoy behind our backs.”

“I couldn’t say anything,” Harry said. “Dumbledore said I couldn’t and it’s not like you’re any better. You spent your summer with Sirius and a secret organization, but you didn’t say anything either. The secrets are not just on me!”

“Of course not, Harry, but, you have to admit, your secrets are a bit bigger than ours,” Hermione said.

“You need to tell us what the hell is going on with you,” Ron said firmly and Harry glared again.

“Why?”

“So we can help you,” Hermione said.

“I don’t need help!” Harry said.

“Of course you do!” Ron said. “Friends with Malfoy and a vampire and an immortal? Using magic no one’s ever even heard of? Keeping things from us? You clearly need help!”

“Just talk to us,” Hermione pleaded.

“I can’t!” Harry yelled. “You won’t understand!”

“We will if you would just tell us what’s going on,” Ron said.

Harry slammed his hands on the table, making plates and forks rattle, and he ignored the pain it caused in his carved hand. Ron and Hermione jumped, Hermione looking at him in shock and Ron with anger.

“You can’t understand! You will never understand!” Harry yelled. “You will never understand the nightmares and the visions! You will never understand seeing a friend die and a monster come back to life because of you! You will never understand spending your life being hurt by people that were supposed to take care of you because you deserved it all along! You will never understand having no one! You will never understand finding people that do understand and could care only to be told you can’t and shouldn’t want them! You will never understand finding out your entire life has been controlled! You will never understand anything!”

“Harry…” Hermione whispered.

Harry looked away from them, down at his hands where his Elemental Magic was sparking and twisting through his fingers. He realized he was shaking and shoved away from the table, snatching up his bag and running from the Great Hall. He hurried up through the castle, not stopping for anything or anyone until he reached the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. He paced almost aggressively until the door appeared and pulled it open as hard as possible, dashing inside. He dropped his bag and stormed over to the right-hand archway, stepping through to the replica of Prince Manor’s grounds.

Still shaking and his hands still tingling with his magic, Harry gazed around. He could picture where the manor should be and felt a deep longing to truly be there once again.

“Harry?”

He looked over his shoulder at Alexei who was slowly approaching him, a look of concern on his face. Harry dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to sob at all the thoughts and memories and emotions flooding through him.

“What’s happened, rebenok?”

“They don’t understand,” Harry whispered.

“Understand what?” Alexei asked.

“Anything,” Harry said, unable to hold back and choking on a sob.

A hand landed on his shoulder and tugged gently. Harry just allowed himself to be pulled against Alexei, grasping at the vampire’s shirt as he buried himself in the waistcoat. Alexei’s arms came around him, holding him close, just waiting as Harry cried. Harry couldn’t stop the comments running through his head, the horrible things he’d heard from the Dursleys, from Dumbledore, from Snape, from Malfoy, from Sirius, from his friends…everyone telling him who he was, what he was.

Orphan…freak…disappointment…murderer…waste…target…danger…liar…traitor…burden…

Weak…stupid…controlled…unwanted…hated…dispensible…alone…unloved…worthless…

“Harry,” Alexei murmured.

Harry pulled away then, swiping at the tears on his face. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t apologize, rebenok,” Alexei said. “This is more than a fight with your friends and you know that. You need to talk about everything you’re keeping inside.”

Harry stepped away, shaking his head. “I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about. It’s not important, any of it.”

He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Alexei or himself.

“Credit me with more intelligence than that,” Alexei said chidingly. “I only know a fraction of what you have been through, but none of it is something anyone can handle on their own.”

“Well, I have!” Harry snapped. “Easy to deal with when it’s all been your fault and you deserve it.”

“Harry, that’s not true,” Alexei said.

“Just leave it alone,” Harry said. “Are we training or not?”

He heard Alexei sigh.

“Come on,” Alexei said. “We’ll keep practicing your combined shields and offensive attacks.”

Harry gave a single short nod and followed Alexei back to the main training area. The tension between them was palpable, the silence as they trained deafening, and Harry’s distraction evident. They had moved on from common element creation and control, Harry quickly becoming proficient, and had moved onto skill-based use for offensive and defensive means. It had been about a week now of Harry using one element to shield himself while using another to try and incapacitate Alexei. It was far more difficult than anything else they’d done and now, between today’s rough start and his distraction, Harry’s ability to do anything was pitiful. His wall of water was thin, letting every single one of Alexei’s attacks through, while his fire attacks were weak and off the mark.

When Alexei extinguished his fireball and broke through his water shield with vines that tripped him, something seemed to snap in the vampire.

“Enough of this!” Alexei shouted.

Harry pushed himself up as the vampire stormed over to him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, enough apologies,” Alexei said, crouching in front of him. “You know what the problem is, why you’re struggling with your magic. You need to talk to someone about what you’re going through.”

“I’m not going through anything,” Harry said defensively. “What’s happened, happened.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Alexei said. “Your friends may not understand, but we do; me, Leif, Severus, Draco.”

“What could you possibly understand?” Harry sneered.

“Your survivor’s guilt will kill you if you let it,” Alexei said and Harry looked at him sharply. “Yes, people you love have died and you didn’t, but that does not make it your fault.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “How do you—”

“It’s easy to tell what is likely bothering you based on what I know you’ve gone through,” Alexei said and, with a sigh, the vampire sat beside Harry, facing the opposite direction so they could still be face to face. “I was fourteen when my entire family was killed and I was the only one to survive. Grigori could have saved any of us, but he chose me. He never told me why.”

Harry looked at Alexei when the vampire fell quiet, eyes moving away from Harry.

“I didn’t understand. I still don’t in many ways,” Alexei said. “I will never know why I lived and they didn’t, but, what I do know, is that it has nothing to do with deserving. It is just the way things went. Perhaps Severus is the reason, or Leif, or you. Whatever the reason, I lived and no amount of guilt or blame will bring my family back. No amount of guilt or blame undoes anything that’s happened. All you can do is take what’s happened to you and grow…learn.”

“Learn what?”

“Who you are,” Alexei said. “What you want.”

Harry shook his head and dropped his eyes to the floor. “I’m no one and I don’t deserve anything.”

A hand shot out and cool fingers tugged his chin until he was forced to meet Alexei’s blue eyes. “Both of those things are patently untrue and I can find plenty of people who would agree with me. I have done terrible things to many people using my guilt as an excuse, but do you think I am undeserving?”

“No,” Harry said, “but, Dumbledore, he’s controlled everything. He left me with the Dursleys, let all these things happen, took away S…this summer.”

“You told Dumbledore you would no longer be controlled by him, so why are you letting him keep you from what you want?” Alexei said, releasing Harry’s chin. “Why are you letting anyone tell you what you can or cannot have?”

“Because what I want doesn’t want me,” Harry admitted. “Because what I want means I have to choose and no matter what I choose, I lose something and I’m alone. I’m always alone.”

“If someone makes you choose, then they don’t truly care,” Alexei said. “You are not responsible for everyone else and their beliefs, only your own.”

Harry looked back at the floor between his feet. “What did you do? After your family and Grigori?”

“Many horrible things,” Alexei said. “I thought, if others hurt, maybe I wouldn’t so much. When it became clear that wasn’t happening, I isolated myself, wallowed in my grief and guilt.”

“How did you stop?” Harry asked.

Alexei’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I made a friend.”

“Leif?” Harry ventured and Alexei nodded. “What did he do?”

“He listened and accepted,” Alexei said. “He understood.”

Harry chewed his lip, but turned to look at Alexei again when the vampire touched his shoulder. He nearly teared up at the compassion and affection in Alexei’s face.

“I do not know everything that is troubling you, but keeping it to yourself is hurting you,” Alexei said. “I know it’s the only way you know, but there is another. You must talk to someone. If your friends do not understand, find someone who does and who can give you what you need. If they are truly your friends, they will come to understand, but, until then, find someone who can understand now because you cannot keep going like this. I don’t want to see you destroy yourself, rebenok. I have seen far too many I care for do the same thing and lose themselves.”

Harry gazed into the blue eyes before looking away, taking a deep breath. He stared across the room at his reflection in the wall of mirrors. There were so many things inside him, hurting him. He didn’t know how to deal with it all, but maybe Alexei could help with just one.

“I had to compete in the Triwizard Tournament last year,” Harry said, feeling far away as he remembered. “The cup in the Third Task was a Portkey. Cedric, the other Hogwarts champion, and I grabbed it together. It took us to a graveyard and he was killed. I convinced him to take the cup with me and the entire trap was for me and I was too weak, too scared. I let him die. He died when it should have been me. Cedric died and Voldemort came back because of me. I can’t stop dreaming about it. I just keep seeing Cedric die and I can never save him. I always just let him die.”

A tear slipped out the corner of his eye, but he just let it fall. Silence sat over them for a few moments. Pain was pulsing in his chest as he allowed himself to think and talk about Cedric and that night, but there was an underlying feeling of something else, he just wasn’t sure what it was. He wouldn’t know. He’d never talked before, to anyone; he’d never been allowed. Merlin knew what happened every time he opened his mouth at the Dursleys’. Then, he was Harry Potter…Harry Potter didn’t have problems, he solved them. He didn’t need help, he gave help. He didn’t need anyone, didn’t have a hard life. He was the Boy Who Lived with the perfect parents willing to die for him and with the amazing power that took down a dark lord.

How was he supposed to know what he needed when he’d never been allowed to need anything?

“I was supposed to die with my family,” Alexei said after a long silence. Harry turned to him, but the vampire was the one looking away this time, staring at the door to the room. “I wish I had argued with Grigori, fought more for him to save others or leave me behind to die with them. I blamed him for a long time. How could I not? I blamed him and I blamed myself, but, eventually, I realized it never would have mattered. Even if I had fought with Grigori more, it wouldn’t have changed anything. Grigori never would have changed what he did, the choices he made, and something tells me nothing would have changed Cedric’s choices either.”

The blue eyes met his again and held. He found he couldn’t help but listen. Odd considering every other attempt to even think about Cedric the last three months had caused breakdowns and shutdowns.

“Just as he never would have been able to change the choices you made had he tried to talk you out of taking the cup,” Alexei continued. “You both made a choice and, unfortunately, you experienced something truly awful. You were not weak, you were surviving. You could never have saved him, rebenok, because he wasn’t yours to save, just like me and my family. It happened because things like this happen and nothing can be done. It is grief you should feel, not guilt. Guilt takes away from the loss and stops you from healing. That is something I believe we can all tell you.”

Harry moved to rest his chin on his arms on his knees. “I don’t think I know how to grieve. I’ve only ever lost my parents, but I don’t remember them and I wasn’t allowed to talk about them. No one else gets it, what it’s like to lose someone or watch someone die.”

“Most don’t,” Alexei agreed, “but you do know some that get it. You just have to be willing to speak to them, to talk about everything, regardless of what others tell you.”

“I’m not allowed,” Harry muttered, thinking of Dumbledore and Sirius and Ron and Hermione.

“Harry, you get to choose who you want in your life, who you want to trust,” Alexei said. “Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for how you feel, not even yourself.”

Alexei’s hand reached out again, but came to rest on the side of Harry’s head, the thumb brushing his temple. Harry smiled at the touch and at the vampire’s own smile, and Harry realized what that underlying feeling was.

Affectionate, compassionate understanding.

As much as his conversation with Alexei did help, it still only helped so much with one very large hurt amongst a mountain of hurts. Thus, that evening’s Occlumency was, once again, not going well. He and Snape were sitting in Harry’s head, Snape poking holes in his firewall while Harry chased the man around trying to fix the holes. The only problem was, Snape was right—of course he bloody was—and his wall would never be strong until he tore down the mountain Alexei had nudged. The only problem with that, however, was that he wasn’t sure he was ready to face that landslide, especially not without rescue. The moment with Alexei had been a moment of weakness, not because he was ready or strong enough to face everything.

He wasn’t ready to be that weak, there wasn’t enough security for that. The risk of being hurt or abandoned for such weakness was far too high.

So, for now, this was the best he could do and Snape would just have to accept it, work with it.

If only that was how Snape did anything.

Harry groaned and grabbed his head, hunching over in his chair as Snape tore from his mind. The man wasn’t exactly gentle at any time, but he was definitely getting more aggressive. Clearly Harry’s current ‘best’ wasn’t enough for him.

“Merlin, Potter, you’d think this was your first time attempting this,” Snape said, sounding frustrated.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just got a lot going on,” Harry said, cracking an eye at the professor while he massaged his temples.

“You know perfectly well what the problem is and how to fix it,” Snape said.

“Don’t even go there,” Harry said with a scowl. “I’ve already had my friends and Alexei all over me today about talking.”

“At least I am not the only one you choose to ignore then,” Snape said sardonically.

“Everyone wants me to talk, but no one’s bothered to consider who the hell am I supposed to talk to?” Harry said. “Everyone I would consider talking to is part of the bloody problem!”

“Have you considered that talking to those you have a problem with might solve those problems, you idiotic child?” Snape said.

“I doubt it,” Harry said, ignoring the small voice that sounded annoyingly like Alexei that was telling him Snape had a solid point. “Forget it. Let’s go again.”

“Oh, have you suddenly created an impenetrable barrier that’s been lacking for the past hour?” Snape sneered.

“Probably not, but who cares?” Harry said. “Practice diversion.”

“Use your whirlpool then,” Snape said, “and a deal will be made.”

“Okay?” Harry said hesitantly.

“Any memories I see, you talk about,” Snape said.

“What is this, emotional blackmail?” Harry said, affronted.

“I am not below it,” Snape said, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Harry glared. “Shouldn’t surprise me, great bastard that you are.”

“Yet you haven’t walked out in adamant refusal,” Snape said.

Harry’s glare deepened while Snape’s eyebrow became challenging. “I hate Slytherins with a quickly growing passion,” he said and huffed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Harry was sure he did not like the smirk that appeared on the professor’s face, but resigned himself to his fate. At least the man was still allowing him a moment to prepare. He wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to the deal, it was only making him nervous which would make him fail even more spectacularly. He groaned quietly to himself as he set up his firewall and chucked his memories into his whirlpool before meeting Snape’s eyes and nodding stiffly.

He didn’t know what he expected when they entered his mind. They faced his wall of fire for a few seconds longer than the past hour, surprisingly, but he was still unable to keep Snape out. So, through the fire they went and were faced with the whirlpool filled with his memories, other memories and thoughts floating around freely. Trying the whirlpool from before had been Snape’s suggestion and, besides Harry’s debilitating distraction, it had been fairly successful. Harry could almost swear Snape had shown some pride in Harry’s whirlpool.

Harry focused on the swirling water, pushing his Water Magic at it to make it spin faster. Despite his focus and power, Harry was still too worried about what Snape would find which prevented him from being able to keep Snape away. He didn’t want to talk about anything, still too raw from the rest of his emotional day. Yet, there was that voice that sounded like Alexei again telling him it was time to talk. Naturally, because he didn’t want Snape to see what was haunting him, that’s all the man found, pulling several memories from the whirlpool. It was like he grabbed at everything bothering Harry, like he knew exactly what to go for, and Harry found he could do nothing. It had all been there for too long, unacknowledged, just building with every new thing.

So, he watched, frozen and unable to do anything, just like in the memories, like he’d done his whole life.

He watched and waited and broke a little bit more.

Beatings by Vernon…locked in the cupboard…starving…the nightmares…that last night in Privet Drive…the dangers from each year at Hogwarts…the graveyard…Cedric…the visions…the prophecy…Dumbledore’s betrayal…Snape’s rejection…Sirius’ disgust…Ron and Hermione’s anger…

And, of course, the core of it all…the abject fear and loneliness.

It must have been obvious that Harry wasn’t going to be able to fight back as Snape pulled out of his mind on his own and with an excess of gentleness. Harry was left hunched over in the chair, hands clenched in his hair as he sobbed. He pulled harshly at his hair and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make the memories—the pain—stop. The flinch he responded with to the hand that touched his shoulder was violent and rocked his body.

“Potter—”

Harry tore away from the hand that reached for him again and the voice, leaping to his feet and knocking the chair to the floor. His hands slipped from his hair and held in front of him as though warding off a threat. He kept his eyes shut tight.

“Potter—”

“No!” Harry yelled. “I don’t care about the deal!”

“Potter, listen to me—”

“No!” Harry yelled again, finally opening his eyes and looking blurrily at Snape. “Why? Why would I listen or talk? It doesn’t matter what I say! It doesn’t make anything better! It doesn’t change anything! It never does! It doesn’t matter! I don’t matter!”

“You matter—”

“No, I don’t! I never have! If I meant anything to anyone, none of it would have happened, but it did!” Harry shouted, tears pouring down his face. “It did happen and no one cared because I don’t matter!”

“You matter, child, just listen.”

“Then why? Why did you do it? Why did you let it happen?” Harry said, his voice breaking. “Why did you leave us behind?”

“Because you matter.”

Harry’s legs crumpled under him at the weight of his pain and the professor’s words and the piling emotions of the day. He didn’t crash to the floor, though, as hands gently grasped his arms and lowered him to the stone. Snape released him, allowing him to fold over, palms on the floor as sobs continued to wrack his body. A hand once again landed on his shoulder, high enough that it also cupped the side of his neck. He didn’t raise his head, but the near-affectionate gesture did catch his attention.

“I know listening to me is not something you are particularly fond of doing,” Harry let out a wet, weak laugh, “but I must insist you listen just this once.”

Harry forced himself to raise his head and look at the professor knelt on the floor in front of him. The hand remained warm and steady on the side of his neck while black eyes held his through his tears.

“You are a child the world has failed repeatedly and you have no idea the depth of my regret for being a part of that,” Snape said. “However, regardless of all your despicable relatives have likely told you, you matter and to a great many people. You seem to have an uncanny ability to insert yourself in one’s life and make it impossible to want it any other way, or have I been imagining the friendship that seems to have developed between you and Mr. Malfoy?”

Harry gave a tiny head shake.

“Which should be more than enough proof, but I will continue regardless,” Snape said. “I apologize for all the distress I have caused you. I have recently been informed that I am a coward and it would seem my irritating friends are irritatingly correct.”

Harry laughed weakly again.

“There is much to be said about the prophecy, but it will have to wait,” Snape said. “I must protect you and Mr. Malfoy, and my position makes that infinitely more difficult. How could I claim to want to keep you safe if I put you in danger to satisfy my own selfish wants?”

Harry swallowed thickly, his tears finally slowing just slightly.

“I did not wish to distance you so severely, but I truly believed it was best, not because you didn’t matter, but because you did,” Snape said. “I was just too much of a coward to see it. A fatal flaw of mine, unfortunately.”

“So…” Harry said, forcing his voice to work, “this summer…”

“There is much we need to discuss, but this summer was not a lie or pretend,” Snape said. “Inexplicably, in seven weeks, you and Mr. Malfoy made a difference.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut and he dropped his head again as he began to sag. The emotional adrenaline was quickly disappearing, leaving him an exhausted, emotional wreck instead. His magic hadn’t reacted outwardly to his breakdown, but it had internally apparently as, while he calmed down, he felt Snape’s magic wrap around his, soothing it.

“I take it you have not been sleeping?” Snape said and Harry shook his head, too drained to even consider lying. “Very well. Up, Potter.”

The hand left his neck and Harry looked up as Snape stood. The man held out a hand which Harry just stared at for several seconds before finally reaching out and taking it. He was pulled to his feet and Harry assumed he would be directed back to Gryffindor Tower. He was, therefore, surprised when Snape turned him around and guided him to a section of blank wall in the back-left corner of the office. He watched the man put his hand to a seemingly random brick, only for the wall to swing in like a door, revealing a tunnel.

Snape motioned for him to follow and he did, gazing around the stone tunnel. It was only a minute or two later that Snape was pushing through another stone wall and Harry was stepping into what he could only assume were Snape’s personal rooms.

They had come through the wall just behind a desk covered with books, parchments, and scrolls. To his left was a closed door that he assumed was the bedroom. To his right, on the other side of the desk were two more closed doors. The doors and desk were on a raised part of the floor. Beyond in front of him was an inset sitting area with chairs and sofas and a coffee table around a large fireplace. Behind the area on the right side of the room was one more door which seemed to lead to a kitchen and dining area.

“Come on, Potter.”

Harry was pulled from his perusal, finding Snape had moved to the sitting area and was standing by the sofa. Harry gave him a curious look, confused.

“You need to sleep and it is too close to curfew to send you to your tower as Umbridge is patrolling,” Snape said and looked pointedly at the sofa. “So, come and sleep.”

Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable, feeling like that burden once again. “It…it’s okay, Professor. I can go back to the Tower. I’m sorry for—”

“Do not apologize, just come and lay down,” Snape interrupted.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, but he slowly approached. When he didn’t immediately sit, Snape gave him a gentle push. When he didn’t lay down, the man huffed and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Are you being purposely difficult?” Snape said.

“Well, you said you just wanted me to listen to you the once, so I’ve assumed I can ignore you the rest of the time now,” Harry said, his lips twitching at his own joke.

Snape’s lips also twitched before he rolled his eyes. “Brat. Lay down already.”

Feeling slightly more comfortable, Harry did so, stretching across the sofa. It was extremely comfortable and seemed to amplify his tiredness as his head dropped on a throw pillow and his eyelids drooped. He fought to keep them open and to protest when his shoes and glasses were removed, but it was fruitless. A light throw blanket fell over him.

“Just sleep, Potter,” Snape said quietly. “Everything will still be there tomorrow.”

“Will you?” Harry managed to mumble.

There was a pause.

“Yes, I will be as well,” Snape said. “Sleep now, child.”

Harry nodded into the pillow and allowed himself to listen, drifting off into the first real sleep he’d had in weeks.