November dawned, and Harry, Remus, and Headmaster Dumbledore all mutually agreed that he could be seeing a therapist to get out all of his issues. It was not snowing yet, but there was plenty of frost on the grounds, which signified that it would likely be a cold winter. It always seemed to snow at Wartsmoth, and, in the days leading up to Christmas break, Harry recalled having snowball fights with Fred and George, Ron's older twin brothers.

The walls in the office Harry sat in were a pleasant apricot with cream accents, and there were plenty of natural flowers and plants throughout the space. He was sitting on the couch, waiting for his first-ever therapy session to begin; Dr. Bones, who told Harry that he could call her Amelia, was saying goodbye to Remus in the waiting room, before she came back into the room with a smile on her face. She was around five foot nine and wore a pleasant and kind expression, looked about thirty, had pale brown hair, engaging brown eyes that reminded Harry of Hermione, and was dressed smartly in black trousers, a white blouse, a charcoal-colored cardigan, and black ankle boots with two-inch heels.

"Would you care for some tea, Harry?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Yes, please, Amelia."

"Splendid; I normally have a cup right about now anyhow," she said, walking over to the small kitchen area in her office, and put the kettle on to boil. "I drink black tea myself, which I have, but I also have Earl Grey, English, Scottish, and Irish Breakfast, along with chamomile, green, jasmine, peppermint, and oolong."

"Black's fine, thank you," Harry told her.

"No problem." As Amelia waited for the tea kettle to go off, she took two mugs out of the pantry, popped a teabag in each, and walked over to the fridge. "I have milk or cream, and sugar, honey, or lemon."

"Milk and sugar, please. Two, if that's all right, for the sugar."

Amelia nodded. "Not a problem at all." She got the milk out of the fridge, turning off the stove once the kettle whistled, and poured the hot water into their mugs. She added milk to each, plus two spoonfuls of sugar to Harry's, and squeezed some lemon into hers. Lifting the cups carefully, she crossed the room and set them onto the walnut table, which separated the couch from a stuffed wingback chair, which Amelia had left her clipboard on. "There you are. I'd wait a couple of minutes; wouldn't want you to burn your tongue."

Harry chuckled at that, and settled back into the couch, content to watch the steam plume over the edge of the cup. "Thank you, Amelia."

"It's no trouble," she assured him with a quick smile, picking up her clipboard and sitting in her chair across from him. "I have, of course, been debriefed by both Headmaster Dumbledore and your guardian, Professor Lupin. But, I'd like to hear from you why, in your own words, you're here today."

Harry swallowed. "My aunt and uncle's trial began a week ago. It's... It's been a big adjustment, going back to school right after everything happened..."

Amelia nodded. "Do you believe they deserve to be on trial for what happened?"

Harry nodded back, his motions emphatic. "Of course. It's bad enough that my cousin Dudley gets to walk free..."

"He's been sent to a reform school, Harry," Amelia informed him gently, and Harry swallowed, well-aware of the information. "Granted, he gets to return to his aunt each evening, but it will go on his record what happened, and he will be re-evaluated to enter society once he reaches the age of eighteen. If it doesn't go well, house arrest until he is twenty-one."

Harry sighed. "I know. But I wish that those medieval boys schools were still commonplace. I want to make sure that Dudley never hurts anyone again."

Amelia lowered her face to her clipboard, nipping at the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from laughing. "So, I take that, even before all of this began, you and your cousin were never the best of friends?"

Harry shook his head. "No, we weren't. You can only blame his upbringing to a point. Sooner or later, Dudley has to be held accountable for all he put me through."

"But you're happy, now?" she asked, and Harry looked up at her. "With school and everything and, of course, you're all right with Professor Lupin being granted guardianship of you."

"Should've happened a long time ago," Harry said bitterly.

Amelia sighed. "I am very sorry that it didn't."

Harry reached out then, taking up his mug of tea, blew on it, and sipped it slowly. "Do you have children, Amelia?"

Amelia nodded. "Yes, I have a daughter called Susan. She's sixteen."

"I know Susan," Harry remarked.

Amelia smiled. "Yes, you attend Wartsmoth together."

Harry considered that for a moment. "What would you do if someone hurt her?"

Amelia tapped her pen against her clipboard. "Well, illogically, I'd want to tear them limb from limb if they ever laid a hand on her. Logically, however, I would testify in court against the perpetrator, in the hopes that my words would sway the jury to give them as long a sentence as possible, to ensure that my daughter felt safe, and so that the person never hurt anyone again as long as they were able to do so."

Harry took another sip of his tea; it eased the constant ache in his throat. "How much of this session can be made public?"

"If you're doing things that are a danger to yourself or others, such as suicidal thoughts or intent to cause harm to other individuals, then I have to report that. There is a possibility that I will be testifying on your behalf for the trial, if they reach out to me to do such a thing. However, the vast majority of what we discuss is strictly confidential."

"I'm gay," Harry whispered, his voice shaking.

Amelia nodded. "That's all right, Harry. This is a safe place. We can discuss it as much or as little as you like."

"I... I know you can't really tell me what your other clients do to find themselves here, but do you talk about sexuality in other sessions?"

"Yes, of course. My main focuses are children, adolescents, and young adults. A great many of them want to discuss it." Amelia hesitated for a moment. "Do you feel negatively because of your sexuality, Harry?"

Harry sighed. "I... My aunt and uncle were against people who were queer," he said softly, and flinched, remembering the bashing they gave to anyone who dared to live a certain way. "If they saw them on the street, they'd yell and scream and call them names..."

"It's absolutely abhorrent that people still feel that way," Amelia said softly. "When my partner, Rosmerta, and I decided to have Susan, we made sure to tell each other every day how much we loved each other, and we did the same once Susan was born. Ever since she was old enough to understand, we told her that some people out there just didn't understand the way we chose to live our lives and, at the end of the day, it wasn't any of their business."

"How did you meet Rosmerta?" Harry asked. "Oh. Sorry. We're supposed to be talking about me, aren't we?"

Amelia smiled at him. "No, that's all right. You can ask me a few questions." She looked out the window for a moment, obviously remembering something. "I was twenty, and had just failed my first exam for my Bachelor's Program," she said softly. "I went into The Three Thistles for a pint, because it was a Friday, and all I wanted to do was to get pissed and go to bed. Rosie owned the place," Amelia said softly. "She ended up spending the entire night talking to me, and I was so smitten that that's when I knew that men didn't stand a chance with me. I went back to The Three Thistles, every Friday, for six weeks, until I finally plucked up the courage to ask her to go to dinner with me. We did, and now we're living together and raising Susan."

"It sucks, that marriage isn't legal for people like us," Harry said quietly. "We deserve the same rights as everyone else."

Amelia nodded. "I couldn't agree more."

Harry sighed, feeling more at ease than he had in a long time. "All right. Sorry for that tangent there... I'm ready to talk some more."

"Very well," Amelia replied, picking up her clipboard again. "Why don't you tell me your first happy memory?"

There was a flash of something in Harry's mind, and he found himself smiling, unknowing how he'd gone on for so long without realizing this memory. "My dad had a pilot's license, and he would go flying on the weekends," he said quietly. "I remember he took me for my birthday. I sat right up in the cockpit, where the co-pilot would fly. He gave me one of those hats, that you see in old-timey war films, the ones with the goggles. He let me drive the plane from the co-pilot's seat..." Harry sighed then, seeing the entire beautiful world from the flight deck, unknowing that it would all come crashing down eventually.

"Do you remember anything about your mother?" she asked.

"Other than her murder?"

Amelia nodded. "Yes."

"She loved baking biscuits, and listening to the radio," Harry said with a smile. "She would just stand in the kitchen, singing The Beatles and dancing around with a rolling pin... Her and Dad's song was I Saw Her Standing There..."

Harry sat in his highchair in the kitchen, clapping his hands, and ignoring the piece of biscuit dough that had been placed in front of him to play with. He giggled as his father came into the kitchen rather dramatically as the song started, and expertly caught the wooden spoon that Lily had thrown to him.

Lily grinned at James, encouraging him as the opening chords of the son beat throughout the kitchen of their little cottage in Somerset. "Go, James!" she cried out.

"Well, she was just seventeen, you know what I mean!" James shouted along with the music, sidling up to Harry, who laughed at his father's antics. "And the way she looked, was way beyond compare!" he went on. "So, how could I dance with another, ooh, when I saw her standing there?" he questioned, before making a grab for Lily's hand, to which she squealed and laughed, her green eyes dancing and her red hair fanning about her face, and twirled her around, holding her against him.

Harry's favorite part was the "ooh" of the song, because James would always throw back his head and howl like a wolf. As he screamed and shouted along, trying to formulate the words of the song, Sirius and Remus came into the room, Peter trailing just behind him, singing backup for James, while James continued singing the main part and twirling Lily around.

"Now, I'll never dance with another," James declared, throwing himself down at Lily's feet, the wooden spoon still in his hand, "oh, since I saw her standing there. Oh, since I saw her standing there. Yeah, well since I saw her standing there," he said, before launching to his feet and dipping Lily, kissing her in front of his son and three best friends.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked then, his senses clearing as he looked at Amelia. "Yeah? Sorry..."

She smiled. "That's all right. Where did you go?"

"Our kitchen, when I was a baby," Harry said softly. "Dad would sing the song to Mum, and always joke that The Beatles wrote it for them, because they were seventeen when they fell in love and got together. Their friends Sirius and Remus were there, plus the guy what gave away their location to Riddle, Peter..."

"I understand that Peter Pettigrew was in hiding until you were thirteen, but then his location was discovered."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. He got arrested for turning in my parents' location, which ended up getting them killed. He's serving a hard twenty-five for conspiracy."

"Did you testify?"

Harry shook his head. "No. They said I was too young. But, I was permitted to read a statement during court before he was sentenced, though. Ron's parents, Molly and Arthur, took me to court to read it. I usually stayed with them for the last two weeks of summer, before school started, and during the Christmas holidays, when my aunt and uncle could 'spare me'," he said, using air quotes.

Amelia inclined her head. "I'm also told that your aunts' and uncle's abuse towards you was not limited to emotional and physical abuse?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, that's true."

"What would happen?"

"My aunt would make me stand naked in front of her, while she hit at me and called me a disgusting little freak," Harry said softly. "My cousin would rape me. And, when my uncle caught him raping me, he did it, too."

"Do you think your aunt and uncle knew about what your cousin was doing?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know if I even want to know the right answer to that question anymore," he confessed, lifting his mug of tea to his lips and sipping it slowly.

. . .

Harry sat at the large table with the starched-white tablecloth, feeling slightly out-of-place that was so obviously fancy. Sandwiched between Ron and Hermione and surrounded by the rest of the Weasleys, Harry was pleased that Remus was among the redheads. They were having an informal Thanksgiving gathering, because the oldest Weasley child, Bill, was visiting from France with his visibly pregnant wife, Fleur, where they worked at BNP Paribas. Others in attendance were Charlie and his boyfriend, Andre Egwu, visiting from Romania; Percy, visiting from London with his blushing bride, Audrey; and Fred, visiting from London with boyfriend Lee Jordan, and George, also visiting from London with his girlfriend Angelina Johnson respectively.

"Dinner ees delicious," Fleur proclaimed in her heavily accented English. "I zhink zee baby likes it, too."

"Careful, Bill," Charlie warned from where he sat across the table, arm slung around Andre, a professional football player, whom he had met while they were both attending Wartsmoth Academy. "She may want another one."

Bill sighed, dragging his hands through his shoulder-length red hair. "Fleur, remind me again why I moved out..."

Andre playfully smacked Charlie on the arm, and was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. "You told me you weren't behind your brother's moving," he scolded mockingly.

Charlie held up his hands in surrender. "Wasn't me."

"It was us," Fred said, and Lee put his face in his hands to stifle his laughter. "Lee and I were just a bit too loud, weren't we?"

"Boys," Molly scolded from across the table.

"Hey, don't count us out—hey!" George cried, rubbing his arm where Angelina had smacked him, before returning to her salad.

"Really boys, enough," Molly warned.

Harry grinned at Ginny from across the table, who was muffling her own laugher, along with Dean, who had his arm around her shoulders. "Don't make them stop, Molly, please," Harry begged, laughing so hard that he was close to tears.

"Yeah, Mum, let us live a little," Ron whined.

"Honestly, Ronald, you're even worse than the twins sometimes," Hermione said, scoffing as she stabbed her shrimp fettuccine.

"Well, Mum, Dad, as you know I've been promoted in parliament, and Audrey's on her way to making partner at the firm," Percy said, attempting to diffuse the tension as he put an arm around his wife's shoulders; they'd gotten married the previous spring, rather early, but were so in love that neither Molly nor Arthur could refuse their blessing.

Harry had never had such a lovely time, although he had to be reminded to eat his porterhouse by Hermione more than once, as Ron was eyeing it from his other side. He cut another piece of it and popped it into his mouth, the juice flowing onto his tongue and immediately calming him down, and took a sip of water. He was so relieved to know just how much Molly and Arthur supported homosexuality, given that two of their seven children were gay, and neither seemed to make any issue of it. Even when Harry had called them after his first therapy session and had come out to them, he could hear Molly's tears of joy on the other side of the phone, along with Arthur's encouragement and vow to support him.

"How's things going with Dr. Bones, mate?" Ron asked, getting tomato sauce all over his face as he rather unbecomingly shoved spaghetti and meatballs into his mouth.

"She's nice," Harry confirmed with a nod, taking a bite of his garlic whipped potatoes, but just moved his green beans around the plate.

"She comes highly recommended, Dr. Bones does, and graduated first in her class at Wartsmoth in 1974, and then from The Queen's Medical Research Institute at the University of Edinburgh in 1984," Hermione said proudly.

"Do you know everything?" Ron demanded.

Hermione's brown eyes flashed for a moment, and her lower lip quivered; she truly hated how much time he was spending with Lavender, and was really only taking some time to see how she felt about Anthony before anything happened... "Her daughter, Susan, attends Wartsmoth with us," she went on. "Perhaps you'd like to sow your seeds with her as well." She stood abruptly from the table then, and dashed off; Harry could see the tears in her eyes as she ran, and knew it was as bad as English class in their first year of secondary school when Hermione had corrected Ron's use of verbs versus adverbs.

"Stay, I'll go," Ginny said to Harry, pecking Dean on the cheek before shooting a scathing look at Ron, and took off after Hermione.

"Don't know why she's acting this way," Ron said with a careless shrug, dipping his garlic bread in a stray amount of tomato sauce and shoving it into his mouth.

Harry gritted his teeth; yes, Ron was his best mate and nothing would change that, but he truly resented how selfish he was being. "Can't you see that you're hurting her?"

"What?" Ron demanded, mouth full. "Not you, too!"

Harry blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Ginny's been talking my ear off for weeks about it," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's bad enough to have my little sister going on, but to have my best mate doing it, too..."

"I can't help who I like," Ron replied.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "And... And you like Lavender?"

Ron laughed. "Don't know," he replied. "But whatever it is that Lav and I have," he went on, and Harry's stomach rolled at the abominable pet name, "there's no stopping it," his best mate declared.

. . .

Harry, Hermione, Luna, Rolf, Neville, and Seamus all stood together in the flurries of snow, on the stands overlooking the schools' football field. They were cheering one of the two opposing teams that Wartsmoth featured—the Warthogs and the Moths—and they were the Warthogs. Ron and Ginny effortlessly kicked the ball to one another, towards the goal of the Warthogs, desperately trying to get it to the goal, which was being blocked by Blaise Zabini, who played for the Moths. On the other side, in the stands for the opposing team, Draco, Pansy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle all shouted for Blaise to block the pass, thus preventing the Warthogs victory.

"I'll never speak to you again if this goes badly," Hermione muttered to Harry.

Harry shook his head at her. "I don't know what you're talking about. I told you as much in the canteen today."

"Ritalin isn't something you can go swapping around!" Hermione hissed. "You could be expelled for that, and Ron suspended for knowingly taking it!"

Dean, who played as goalkeeper for the Warthogs, cheered on his team from where he stood, opposite Blaise, and shouted encouragement at Ginny's quick and effortless footwork. Ginny had been raised by a sport-loving family, with Charlie, Fred, and George, all being members of the Warthog team during their time at Wartsmoth. Charlie had made Captain of the Warthog Team when he was in Year Eleven at Wartsmoth, also playing as Left-Back, and Fred and George had been Center Forward on both accounts. Ron was now the Captain of the Warthog Team, and was playing as Left Midfield, while Ginny was Co-Captain and Right Midfield.

"Nobody's getting expelled or suspended today, 'Mione," Harry told her, rolling his eyes at her theatrics. "You need to just enjoy the game."

"Luna said she saw you," Hermione insisted. "Why would she lie?"

"No idea," Harry replied, looking over to where Rolf was running his hands through Luna's hair, as she giggled at the attention.

"They're highly addictive, Harry," Hermione went on. "I'm surprised that you managed to get medication at all..."

"Hello? Therapy, remember?" Harry said.

Hermione smacked her face into her palm. "Oh, god. Sorry."

It was the final game of first-term, and it was tradition that the winner of the final match would go up against other private schools during second term. The first game was to be against Fettes College, which had opened its doors to girl students thirteen years before; the second game would be against The Edinburgh Academy, while the third would be against Stewart's Melville College. The third game was always a deciding factor in whether or not they would move onto private schools in England. If they lost the third game, they were out of the championships for that year for good; this spoke of bad news to Upper Sixth Form students who were hoping to be scouted on a professional level upon commencement from Wartsmoth.

"Dr. Bones isn't altogether sure what I have yet, but now I'm actually able to focus in class and sleep at night," Harry said firmly. "That's two birds with one stone."

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I know that, Harry. And I'm very glad you're attempting to resolve your issues through therapy."

"Thank you," Harry said with a smile.

"But that doesn't mean you can go off and share your medication with people!"

Harry had played for the Warthogs upon his first year, after the former physical education instructor, Professor Quirrell, had seen how natural he'd been upon the field. He had achieved the rank of Striker almost immediately, with Winger following suit by his third year. In the wake of his godfather Sirius's murder last term, however, Harry had hung up his jersey for good, content to watch the games with Hermione from the sidelines from now on. Professor Slughorn had taken over physical education upon Professor Quirrell's move to Cambridge University after teaching for five years; Professor Slughorn had come out of retirement in the interim, and had retired again by the following year, paving the way for Remus to take over the position, which had been taken over temporarily by Professor Moody during Harry's fourth and fifth years; Harry also knew that Moody wanted some time off from his superior position at Scotland Yard, which he served alongside Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"I didn't give Ron anything, Hermione."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Then, explain to me why he's playing so well."

"He never didn't play well," Harry countered.

"Well, yes, I know that, but..."

Harry leaned forward in the stands, Hermione quieting suddenly, and the pair watched as Ron served the ball to Ginny, who promptly kicked it into the net, narrowly dodging Blaise's attempts to block it. Harry shot to his feet with Hermione, and they embraced one another as the Warthogs and Moths shook hands, giving over victory to the Warthogs. Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Seamus returned to the dorm common area, with Luna and Rolf at their heels, cheering Ron and Ginny for the victory.

"You really shouldn't have done it," Hermione said with a small smile as Neville and Seamus pulled out and put together a stereo with some CD's, Freddie Mercury's voice soon blasting around the room.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Still don't know what you mean."

"Harry, we discussed..." Hermione cut herself off then, as Harry produced his orange plastic bottle of Ritalin, which was missing precisely ten pills, one for each day he'd first received it from Dr. Bones. "You... You've never missed a day. I've seen you every morning in the canteen, taking one with juice or water."

Harry nodded at her, with a smile.

"You never put it in Ron's juice, did you?" she asked, and Harry grinned widely at her. "Ron only thought you did."

Harry nodded in confirmation, before he pocketed the bottle.

It was then that Ron, who had been paraded onto a makeshift platform in the center of the common area, was suddenly yanked down from his perch. The yanker in question was none other than Lavender Brown, and she stared at Ron for a moment, almost as if she was losing her courage. However, she promptly threw her arms around him and kissed him, Ron hesitating for a moment before doing the same to her.

Harry heard the gasp from beside him almost immediately, and turned to see Hermione looking shell-shocked at the unexpected turn of events. She blinked back tears in her beautiful brown eyes before she turned and walked calmly out of the room. Harry met Ginny's eyes for a moment and she nodded, letting him know that it was his turn. Swallowing, Harry left the festivities and went on after Hermione, unknowing what he would find, but even seeing Professor Snape's black eyes temporarily boring into him as he went down the various hallways to find her, afforded him no measure of comfort, only trepidation at what was to come, as well as what he could stand to lose before it was even gained.

. . .

The Christmas holidays had officially arrived, with Remus informing Harry on the day of that he and Dora had been seeing one another. Harry was entirely supportive of it, as he liked Dora, and he had seen the way they looked at each other. A few days after the explosion of Christmas had ended, Harry went north to Devon to see Ron and the rest of the Weasleys; he had communicated to Hermione by phone back at Remus's villa, who had told him in no certain terms would she be going to the Weasley home.

Harry swallowed as he stood before the mirror in Ron's bedroom, trying his best to tuck in his white, button-down shirt. He was due in court that day to testify, and had quested that Molly and Arthur be the ones to take him. Ron was tagging along as well, and Hermione had agreed to hold her tongue for the afternoon, and would be waiting for them there after an over three-hour train trip from Hampstead. Hermes and Jean would be along as well, to keep her company, and had agreed to come to court and support Harry.

Harry, Ron, Molly, and Arthur arrived at the impressive white stone building of the Royal Courts of Justice at ten o'clock in the morning, an hour before Harry was due on the stand. He had been briefed before vacation, and had been given reading material as to the questions he was expected to answer, as well as appropriate answers to those questions. Once inside, they were shown to a room where witnesses and their families were permitted to wait, and Harry was pleased that Hermione, Hermes, and Jean were already there waiting for them.

"Harry!" Hermione cried out, dashing forward; she wore a smart white blouse that day, with a black wool sweater, matching skirt, hose, and black Mary Jane shoes. She wrapped her arms around her best friend, deliberately avoiding Ron's gaze, before pulling back and clutching at his hands. "Are you all right?"

Harry nodded, allowing himself to be led to a chair as Molly and Arthur greeted Hermes and Jean. He took the offered cup of water from Hermione as he sank into the seat, sipping it slowly, suddenly overcome with nerves. "I'm just... I'm worried that the opposing side is going to make me out to be a liar..."

"They will," Ron said, all trace of rudeness or immaturity gone from his tone. "We saw enough crime dramas to know that, Harry."

Harry swallowed another sip of water. "They're going to make me look terrible up there, aren't they, 'Mione?"

Hermione sighed, sitting beside Harry and taking his hand. "They probably will," she told him gently. "But you know as well as I do that they are showing your medical in court right now, as we speak. The one they took before Dora took you from Surrey. Those results can't lie, Harry; the marks on your back, and the other scars that they found... No question. You were brutalized and everyone directly involved must be held accountable."

Harry nodded, wanting desperately to change the subject. "How's your holiday been?" he asked her. "What have you done?"

"We went to Shaftesbury Avenue," Hermione said softly. "Mum, Dad, and I went to the theater, and I invited Tony along."

"Anthony Goldstein?!" Ron demanded.

Hermione shot him a glare before turning back to Harry.

"How was it?" Harry asked.

"We saw Arcadia by Tom Stoppard," Hermione informed him. "It was a positively lovely show, and Tony and I had tea together afterwards." She blushed becomingly then. "He brought me a white rose."

"Just one?" Ron sneered, and it set both Harry and Hermione's teeth on edge. "Any man should bring a woman a full bouquet."

"I wasn't asking you, Ronald," Hermione said, obviously fighting to keep her temper. "As you recall, we're here for Harry. Perhaps we could deal with this animosity at a later, more appropriate, time?"

Ron huffed. "Fine," he muttered, pouring himself a glass of water.

The door of the room opened, and a bailiff stood there. "Mr. Harry Potter?"

Harry rose to his feet, handing his cup to Hermione. "That's me, sir."

"Wonderful," he replied. "You're up next. If you would follow me, Mr. Potter, the rest of you are welcome to go and sit in the gallery."

"Thank you," Molly said, squeezing Harry's hand as he walked by, and Harry took off after the bailiff.

Harry followed the bailiff into another room, where he was told to wait for a moment; he watched as the bailiff walked out into the courtroom, and then motioned for him to follow. Harry obeyed instantly, and moved towards the witness stand, raising his right hand over the bible, and swearing the tell the truth upon the stand.

"Please state your name for the court," said the judge, Cornelius Fudge.

"Harry James Potter," Harry replied clearly.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Judge Fudge said with a nod towards him. "You may begin your questioning now."

The barrister on behalf of the court, Rufus Scrimgeour, was nothing if not professional. He had scraggly-looking dark brown hair, and small, yet engaging eyes. He never sugar-coated anything, and was forthright in his questioning towards Harry. In fact, he seemed to believe Harry, and yet treated him like an adult throughout the proceedings. At the end of his questioning, he apologized to Harry on behalf of the justice system of the United Kingdom, letting him know that he truly did see his side of the story as the truth.

Pius Thicknesse, Vernon and Petunia's solicitor, got to his feet once he was permitted to do so, and stared at Harry with dark, soulless eyes. His long, black hair was tied back respectably in a ponytail down his back, and he ran his hands along his dark, silk suit as a means of establishing power as he approached the stand.

"How long were you in the care of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, Mr. Potter?" he asked, his voice soft, yet deadly.

"I came into their care at fifteen months old, and left it almost a month after my sixteenth birthday, sir," Harry replied. "So, give or take, it was over a decade and a half."

Thicknesse nodded. "And, you claim, that for the first ten years of your living there, that your bedroom was a cupboard under the stairs?"

"I don't claim, sir, for to claim means falsehood," Harry said softly. "I did indeed live in a cupboard under the stairs."

The solicitor looked annoyed, but pressed on. "You also claim that you were only let out of the cupboard to do chores, which included cooking the meals, washing dishes, cleaning the house and bathrooms in various ways, and tending to the garden?"

Harry nodded stiffly. "Yes, that's correct, sir."

"What occasion marked you to be moved into a bedroom?"

"It was my acceptance into Wartsmoth Academy for Gifted Students," Harry said clearly. "My aunt and uncle seemed fearful that people from the courts would be knocking on their doors, demanding to know how I was treated. They moved me to this new room simply out of fear, and it remained my bedroom until I left."

"By 'left', you mean you called 999 on my clients?"

"For just reason, Your Honor!" Scrimgeour said, shooting to his feet. "It's been established in the young man's medical that Mr. Potter sustained lacerations to his back, and was suffering from bruising, fractures, a sprained wrist, and internal bleeding, among other things," the barrister said, and glared at Thicknesse's insinuations.

"That's very true, Scrimgeour," Judge Fudge said, turning his attention to Thicknesse. "We've been over this during the medical, Thicknesse, that Mr. Potter's allegations about his wounds, at this point, are not to be doubted. Please proceed."

"Yes, Your Honor," Thicknesse replied, turning back to Harry. "You called 999 on the thirteenth of August of this year, correct?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Care to elaborate what had happened that day, Mr. Potter?"

Harry straightened slightly, and cleared his throat. "My cousin had come into my bedroom; he knew how to jimmy the lock to get himself in," he said. "He shut the door, crossed the room, not bothering to turn on the light, and climbed into my bed with me. He tore off the old quilt, yanked down my sleep pants and boxers, and proceeded to rape me."

"By 'rape', you mean...?"

"He put himself inside me by force, despite my begging him not to and attempts to push him off and away from me," Harry stated.

"So, you admit you assaulted the son of my clients?"

"Your Honor!" Scrimgeour cried out.

"It is not assault, Thicknesse, if one is acting in self-defense," Fudge stated. "Please, tread lightly now."

"Very well, Your Honor," Thicknesse replied. "What happened next?"

"I continued begging my cousin to stop his attacks, but it did no good. I think it was my screaming or crying that alerted my aunt and uncle, who got into my room. My aunt took my cousin out of there, and they left the house. My uncle came into my room then and took off his belt, hitting me harder than he ever did."

"Where were you hit?"

"Mostly my back, but upon my buttocks as well," Harry said.

"Go on," Thicknesse said.

"He... He became enraged and grabbed me by the hips, before he forcefully put himself inside me," Harry said, his voice shaking slightly. "He... He tore me, far more than my cousin had ever had, and it... It hurt," Harry admitted brokenly, tears streaming down his face. "He still had his belt in one hand, and he hit me with it, drawing blood and pain, while he screamed at me what a filthy freak I was..."

"And what happened then, Mr. Potter?"

"He... He finished," Harry said, swallowing the bile in his throat, "and then he threw me down in a heap, before he stomped out of the room. He took a shower and yelled at me that I'd better be done with my chores before he came back. He left my door unlocked... When I heard him slam the front door, and his car leave, I forced myself to my feet and walked downstairs, to the phone, and called 999."

"Your Honor?" came Scrimgeour's voice.

"Will that be all, Thicknesse?" Judge Fudge asked.

Thicknesse sighed. "Yes," he said at last. "I think I have all that I need."

. . .

Once he was off the stand, with his portion of questioning over, Harry fled from the courtroom, and met the Weasleys and the Granger's outside. They said goodbye to the Granger's, Harry hugging Hermione close, and returned to the Weasleys car. He slid into the back with Ron, and held tightly to his duffel bag, as they drove to Kings Cross.

Harry thanked them for everything, and got onto his assigned train. He stared out the window of his compartment for the entirety of the journey. Remus was in England for a few days, meeting Dora's parents, so Harry was instructed to get a cab back to the villa. He had plenty of pocket money, Remus had seen to that, and also had a credit card attached to the money that his parents had left him upon their deaths.

Harry got off the train and walked to the car park, where several cabs were waiting for hire. He chose one at random, and requested them to take him to Wartsmoth Academy, because he didn't fancy being at the villa on his own, as Remus had taken Valencia with him. Harry kept quiet during the car ride, but tipped the driver generously, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder as he passed through the main gates of the school.

He headed directly to the Warthog common area, dumping his duffel upon his bed, and freshened up with a shower, and a change of clothes. Next, he left the room, wandering for a few moments, before finally breaking into a run. His heart was pounding in his ears as he ran downstairs to the chemistry classroom, and invited himself in, standing in the doorway for a few moments, as he waited for Professor Snape to look up. When he did, he stepped closer, and shut the door behind him, as he went forward.

"Harry?" Severus asked, getting promptly to his feet. "You're not expected back here for nearly a week."

Harry nodded. "I know."

"You testified today, didn't you?"

Harry swallowed. "I did, yes."

"How did it go?"

Harry dragged a hand through his fringe. "Other than their solicitor trying to make me out to be some kind of fraud, it went fine."

Severus sighed. "They're known to do that, unfortunately."

Harry sucked in a breath then, before he went forward all the way, and whispered, "Please, don't push me away this time," before he threw himself into Severus's arms, kissing him as hard as he could.

Severus felt his resolve weakening as Harry pushed himself flush against him, and, finally, the dam broke, and he held Harry against him. "You know just how wrong this is, don't you?" he asked, leaning his head back as Harry trailed kisses along his jaw.

"I don't care," Harry declared.

"This is so wrong," Severus whispered. "I... I've never..."

"Never...?" Harry asked, pulling back, green meeting black.

"Never allowed a student..."

Harry swallowed. "No time like the present," he whispered. "Please..."

Severus tilted his chin up. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "Yes," he said fiercely. "Please. I want this. I want you."

Severus hesitated. "There's a lot at stake here, Harry."

Harry smiled slightly then. "Sounds like a natural part of life to me." He hesitated for a moment then, and sighed. "But... But do you even..."

"What?" Severus asked. "Ask me anything."

"Do you even want me?" Harry whispered, his voice trembling.

Severus sighed. "Against my better judgement, yes. Against everything that I stand for, yes. I can't help how I feel, Harry. Yes, I want you."

The shuddering breath became caught in Harry's lungs at the words then, and he shoved Severus backwards onto his desk, and knelt before him, grabbing ahold of the fly on his trousers, and held it in place, as he unbuttoned the lone button and pulled down the zipper. He could feel Severus breathing heavily above him as he took control, and, painstakingly, he pulled down the trousers and black boxers, inhaling at the sight of Severus's erect member.

"You... You don't have to..." Severus began, as Harry took his thumb and gently rubbed the head, slightly leaking with pre come. "Harry..." He whispered then, and he couldn't deny that the movement had made his toes curl.

"Mmm... Severus," Harry whispered, leaning forward then, and wrapped his lips around his professor's shaft.

Severus groaned at the feeling of the hot and wet chamber that was Harry's mouth, and he gripped the sides of the desk to keep himself from permitting his knees to buckle. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, Harry," he whined.

"Severus," Harry whispered, taking all he could into his mouth, while he gently stroked the last portion of phallus that he was unable to. "Just like that, Severus. Give into me. Let yourself go and just be..."

Severus squirmed around Harry's lips and his grip as he sucked and pumped harder. Of course, he had had his share of lovers, but none of them inexplicably knew what he wanted, without him asking for it beforehand. He hated, hated, that the feeling of Harry's mouth on him was incomparable to all of his past lovers, and didn't know how he would ever be able to give up that sweet little mouth of his...

"Don't... Don't stop," he begged, positively writhing beneath him.

"I won't, don't make me," Harry begged right back, pumping him faster than ever. "Come for me, Severus. Come in my mouth."

Severus let out a low moan then, losing complete control then as his vision went white, and he collapsed upon the top of his desk. He blinked, seeing the ceiling of his classroom a moment later, and Harry was still kneeling before him. Severus pushed himself upwards then, staring down at Harry, tears in both their eyes. Pulling the teen to his feet, he pressed their foreheads together, before Harry pressed closer, and captured his professor's mouth again, and Severus knew just how sinfully delicious it was, tasting himself in Harry's mouth.

"I don't want to stop," Harry whispered, clutching at him.

Severus sighed. "I know."

"But... We have to, don't we?" he whimpered.

Severus sighed, holding Harry close. "Harry..."

"Don't," Harry begged then, tears clouding his vision as he pushed himself away from him. "If you say it, you'll just break my heart. I've broken so much in my life, lost so much... I don't want to know if I've lost you before I've got you yet," he whimpered, before tearing himself away completely and running from the room.

Severus sighed, tangling his fingers into his hair. What had he done? If he didn't stop this nonsense, he would find himself falling for a student. No... No, he couldn't even allow himself to think in those terms. This ended here, now, with a moment of foolishness and a fumble between them, and it could never be repeated again, no matter how much they both wanted it to.