Biting his lower lip between his teeth, Severus gave a tight nod, turned his face away from the other man, and surreptitiously wiped his sleeve over his cheeks. As ever, the tears surprised him. He could count on one hand and still have a few fingers left, the number of times he'd actually cried in his forty-eight years of life. But it didn't seem he could get through a single session with this man without being left a sobbing wreck. It was embarrassing. He'd always thought he was made of stronger stuff than this. Though, Penbroke didn't seem to find his breakdowns the least bit embarrassing, thank Merlin. It was hard enough discussing some of these issues without having to worry about what someone else was thinking about him.
"I think we're done for tonight," Penbroke said. He always seemed to know when Severus had reached his limits.
Severus gave another nod. Once he'd assured himself that his cheeks were dry, he turned back to Penbroke.
"I know it probably doesn't feel like it from where you're sitting, Severus, but you really are making incredible progress."
"You call this progress?" Severus couldn't quite cover his incredulity.
"Well, you don't seem to be burying your feelings so deeply these days. You do seem to be much more in touch with them," Penbroke pointed out.
"If I were any more in touch with them, I would be a sobbing wreck all day, every day," Severus responded in his normal urbane tone, which seemed to tickle his analyst as much as it did Harry, were Penbroke's laughter any indication.
"Not all day, every day," Penbroke countered. "From what you told me, Friday night did have its high points."
Reminded of that victory, Severus felt a small smile touch his lips. "I suppose I should thank you for that."
Penbroke's laughter filled the room again. "Doesn't seem like I had anything to do with it."
"Perhaps not, but . . . when I first came here, I didn't think this would be of any use. I don't understand how it works, when I end up in tears most days, but . . . somehow, it is making a difference," Severus said.
"You've had a difficult life," Penbroke said. "I think you learned to survive by refusing to acknowledge the pain, but that didn't make it go away. Tears are the body's way of releasing that pain."
"I do seem to have an inordinate amount of them, don't I?" Severus tried to joke.
"Not in light of some of the things you've experienced."
Severus nodded. "Perhaps. I should return to the school. We've run over our time again."
"It's no matter," Penbroke dismissed his concern. "You don't think I have anyone coming in later than this, do you? To be honest, you're my only wizard patient at the moment."
"I am?"
Penbroke gave a snort. "Most wizards don't have your courage. They want a spell or a potion to cure what ails them, even if what ails them is their mind."
"A potion would be convenient, wouldn't it?" Severus asked, intrigued by the idea.
"Are you planning on putting me out of business here?" Penbroke laughed. "Go on. Go home to Harry before you come up with an idea to make me redundant."
"Somehow, I can't see that happening. At least, not while I still require daily sessions."
Chuckling, Penbroke rose to his feet. "Good night, Severus. I'll see you tomorrow."
With a polite 'good night' Severus apparated to Hogwarts' gates.
Although the sun had set some time ago, the air was still warm. His robes felt very heavy as he followed the path up to the castle. Reminding himself that it was nearly June, Severus made his way across the shadowy grounds. He appreciated the time it took to reach the castle doors; it was usually sufficient to collect himself enough to hide whatever ghosts his session with Penbroke had raised.
His Slytherins seemed to have some way of sensing when he was in the halls, for, even though he knew for a fact that the majority of the upper class students were never in their common room before curfew, he never caught them in the corridors. The portraits were the only things that tried to make conversation with him tonight as he hurried back to his rooms, and he'd had decades of experience at ignoring them.
The wall sconces were lit and Harry was sitting there before a roaring fire waiting for him, just as usual. Even so, the second he stepped into the room, Severus couldn't help but sense that something was off. When he returned home at night, he usually found Harry grading papers, reading, or sometimes napping on the couch. Harry was just sitting there on the end of the sofa, staring into the hearth with an empty expression on his face. Harry didn't even turn to greet him when he entered.
"Hello," Severus said, wondering what he'd interrupted.
Harry finally turned to look at him. There was something strange in his eyes that Severus couldn't place as he said, "Hello."
"Are you all right?" Severus questioned, not understanding the tension he could feel growing in the room.
"Fine," Harry answered in a clipped tone that sounded anything but fine. "What could be wrong?"
"Harry?" Severus questioned.
"How did detentions go tonight?" Harry asked, an unfamiliar hardness tightening his features.
The tension that always gripped him whenever Harry asked that particular question settled over him as Severus gave his customary reply of, "Much the same as usual."
"Really?" Harry's voice practically dripped sarcasm. "The strangest thing happened on my way down here tonight. I passed Maggie Adair on the stairs. She said that you'd excused the students from detention last month. You can imagine how surprised I was, since that's where you've been claiming to have spent your evenings. And, before you even suggest it, I checked both the Potions classroom and lab. You weren't there."
Thinking fast, because he could feel Harry's anger building in the room as a physical, magical presence, Severus softly admitted, "No, I wasn't."
"Would you mind telling me where you were, then?" For all that the man seemed a breath away from exploding, Harry's words were softly voiced, which made them all the more chilling.
The wall sconces and hearth fire were beginning to flicker as Harry's magic moved restlessly through the room.
Taking a deep breath, Severus came clean with, "I was seeing John Penbroke."
"You're seeing another man?"
Severus couldn't understand the despair and anger that seemed to colour Harry's question. He'd known that Harry wouldn't be happy that he'd kept the fact that he'd sought treatment a secret, but he couldn't quite correlate the degree of distress Harry seemed to be experiencing with the wrong he'd committed. The man looked like his world was falling apart around him. Completely confused about what was going on, Severus hesitantly asked, "I realize that you must be disappointed in me. I should have been honest with you from the start."
"How long?" Harry seemed to force the words out.
"What?"
"How long have you been seeing him?" Harry snapped.
Holding that furious gaze, Severus softly confessed, "A month."
"A month!" The emphasis Harry put on that word was totally lost on him. "You haven't been able to let me touch you for forever, but you've been seeing another man for a month?"
At first, Harry's words were a complete non sequitur. But then the meaning of Harry's anger finally became clear and Severus' brain seemed to give an almost audible click as he figured out what was going on. Harry seriously thought he was having an affair with another man? Nearly shocked beyond words by what Harry was suggesting, Severus quickly stated, "Not romantically."
"What?" Harry demanded, as if he hadn't understood.
"I have been seeing John Penbroke in his professional capacity as an analyst for the last month," Severus explained. He wasn't sure that he'd even be believed. He knew that deception only bred distrust and he hadn't been particularly honest with Harry.
"You . . . ." Harry searched his face and then gave an oddly inflected, "Oh."
Harry's expression was an endearing mix of relief and embarrassment.
Severus' own mind still reeling from the misunderstanding, he hesitantly asked, "You seriously believed that I was sexually involved with someone else?"
Harry now appeared totally embarrassed. "It didn't make any sense. I mean, I know you. I know that even if you were completely healed again, you wouldn't just . . . but I couldn't figure out why else you would have lied about where you were. I'm sorry I doubted you." After a pause, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"
With a weary sigh, Severus sank down onto the couch beside Harry.
"Because I'm an idiot?" Severus suggested, and then confessed in a more serious tone, "I . . . was ashamed. Apparently, I am extremely . . . damaged." It was the only word he could offer that was both honest and something he would be able to voice. "I've had daily sessions for nearly a month now. As I understand it, that is somewhat unusual."
"After what you went through in January -" Harry began.
"What Burke did to me was horrific, but it isn't the source of most of my problems," Severus corrected, realizing that it was time to stop dissembling with this man who had given him back his soul and sanity.
"It isn't?" Harry hesitantly repeated.
"Well, obviously, it's the cause of the sexual problems I've been experiencing lately, but . . . you, of all people, know that I have never been what anyone would call normal." Severus was trying to remain his normal, unaffected self, but despite his best efforts at control, he found himself wrapping his arms around his chest.
"Who is?" Harry countered, the gentleness that was the earmark of his character back. To Severus' shock, Harry reached out to lay a hand on his arm. "You suit me fine."
Warmed by those words more than he could credit, Severus held those concerned eyes and said, "And, yet, I hurt you on a regular basis."
"What are you talking about?" The confusion in Harry's attitude was reassuring. Perhaps he hadn't mucked things up as horribly as he'd feared.
"You are the one person in this world who has ever truly . . . loved me," Severus forced himself to answer. "You have lavished affection and kindness on me -"
"It hasn't been exactly a one way deal," Harry interrupted. "You've done the same for me."
That Harry believed those words was obvious. Humbled, Severus softly offered, "I have tried. I am . . . relieved that I haven't failed you entirely. It has often felt that way."
"What are you talking about?" Harry questioned, moving closer. His hand didn't leave Severus' arm. "You've never failed me once."
"I beg to differ. Every time you have told me that you love me, I have been unable to offer you similar assurances. Even though you are the saving grace of my life, I haven't once told you that I love you."
"That's not true," Harry denied, his fingers tightening around Severus' wrist. "You did tell me."
Thrown, because Severus could see Harry wasn't lying, despite his own certainty to the contrary, he hesitantly asked, "When? Every memory I have of you offering me that gift, shows that I failed to reciprocate. I have given you so little assurance of my . . . feelings for you that you seriously believed I was cheating on you."
"That was me, not you," Harry protested. "It was my insecurity. I knew you wouldn't, and I should have had faith in you. But, all that aside, you did tell me you love me, in circumstances that wouldn't allow any doubt."
"I have no idea what you're referring to. Every time you have said those words, I have acted the coward's part and failed to reciprocate," Severus said. His discussions with Penbroke over the last few weeks had made him recognize how deeply his failure to reciprocate must have hurt Harry.
"You have never acted the coward's part," Harry insisted. "Just because you didn't say something out loud, doesn't mean you didn't tell me with your actions every single day that you loved me. And you did tell me with words. That night on the quidditch pitch in February when you erased my memories, you told me that if there were one thing in this world you loved, it was me."
Once again, Harry seemed to be telling him the truth.
Severus thought back to that awful night. Rack his mind as he would, he had no idea what Harry was talking about. "I . . . my memories of that night are vague. I think I truly was insane."
"Insane or not, you said it, and you meant it," Harry argued.
"And then I erased you memories."
To his complete incomprehension, Harry actually chuckled in response to his reminder. "Yeah, well, I guess that was the insane portion of the proceedings. If it's any comfort to you, I don't think I would have won any stability awards myself that night."
"How can you make light of something like that?" Severus asked.
"It's ancient history now. You said you were sorry. It's over."
"But . . . ."
"There are no 'buts' here, Severus. It's over. Let it go," Harry urged. His hand left Severus' wrist to gently touch his cheek. "And no more kicking yourself over all this other stuff."
"One must take responsibility for one's actions," Severus insisted. He mightn't have a clue how this Muggle therapy was supposed to help him, but that much had become clear very early in his sessions with Penbroke.
Harry reached out to brush the hair back from his face, his expression very soft as he said, "You've had the weight of the world on your shoulders your whole life. You couldn't be more responsible if you tried."
Harry's hands settled on his arms, urging him closer.
