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Harry stood motionless in front of the door that led to Dumbledore’s office and hesitated.
It was already late in the evening and Harry had slipped out of the dormitory, restless and sleepless as Sirius' death had left him since. For a few days he had been considering coming here, although he wasn't sure what to expect from it.
They hadn't spoken to each other since the night they returned from the Ministry, especially as Harry generally avoided the company of other people. Even Ron and Hermione couldn't offer him any comfort and he cut himself off from them.
Harry felt as if something had broken inside him, as if the part of him that meant safety and trust had been ripped from him. He couldn't bear to be around them while he was so miserable that he wanted to scream.
They, too, seemed to avoid him, he imagined, for he felt he was burdening them with his defeatist mood.
Dumbledore would certainly understand him, maybe find the right words, say something that would comfort him. He raised his arm to knock on the door... and lingered.
It was a stupid idea, he thought. Dumbledore had told him everything he knew that night and explained everything he could. It was probably even impolite to visit him at such a late hour, if he was there at all. Of course, Harry snorted at himself, other people were asleep at this time.
He was also tired and exhausted but after he had restlessly tossed and turned in his bed earlier he knew that it was futile.
Clear your mind, Harry, he had told himself. The basics of Occlumency, which he had never seriously attempted to learn.
But his thoughts had immediately returned to Sirius, to his regret and shame at having fallen for Voldemort's ruse, for which he had paid such a high price.
Discouraged he lowered his hand and stared blankly at the floor. It wouldn't change anything.
◊
He was about to head back to the dormitory when the door to the office swung open. Harry, who didn’t expect this, got startled and jumped back a step.
Dumbledore looked equally surprised for a brief moment, but then smiled and said softly, "Good evening, Harry."
"Good evening, Professor," Harry mumbled.
He felt like he had been caught doing something he wished no one had noticed. Briefly he considered whether it would be impolite to simply take his leave as he lacked the strength to find an excuse for his appearance.
However, noticing Harry's discomfort, Dumbledore held the door open invitingly and stepped aside. "Please come in." he urged him.
Peering into the office, Harry noticed that it was already darkened. Presumably Dumbledore was just about to retire for the night's rest.
"Sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to bother you," Harry murmured uneasily, shaking his head and taking another step back.
Even here in the darkness, Harry could feel Dumbledore's gaze resting on him deliberative. Harry avoided his eyes and stared stubbornly through the open door as if trying hard to spot the outlines of the objects there.
"I must insist," Dumbledore said after a short pause. His voice was friendly but firm and Harry knew not to argue as he reluctantly complied.
Dumbledore closed the door behind him and followed Harry into the room. With a flick of his wand, he lit up the office but not as brightly as Harry was used to.
It was quiet and cozy in the dim light. The strange devices on Dumbledore's table, which otherwise always whirred and whiffed softly, lay still and inactive and only the ticking of a wall clock could be heard in the silence.
Through the window one could see the castle grounds and the treetops of the forbidden forest, outlined black under a star-studded sky.
It would have been a lovely view if Harry hadn't been feeling so miserable.
◊
"Please, sit down," Dumbledore gestured and settled himself in his chair behind the desk.
Harry did as he was told, but soon regretted it.
Why couldn't he just have stayed in the dormitory, Harry thought, trying to ignore the piercing gaze of his Headmaster, who was studying him intently over the crescent-shaped glasses.
"How are you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked after a while as Harry made no attempt to talk and continued to stare willfully in every direction that was not Dumbledore's eyes.
For a moment he felt compelled to hurl a defiant "fine" back at Dumbledore, but then he dismissed the thought and yielded for the moment.
"I don't know," Harry replied in a weak voice. "Like-" he struggled for the right words and looked out the window for help, as if the stars had an answer for him that he just needed to spot.
He continued whispering, more to himself, so softly he almost thought it was impossible for Dumbledore to hear it, "Like I've lost a part of me."
Dumbledore didn't answer right away and Harry waited tensely, listening to the clock on the wall that kept counting the seconds, taking him further away from the moment he had last seen Sirius.
"And now you hope to find what you have lost with me?" Dumbledore concluded thoughtfully.
Harry's eyes darted up quickly. The question felt unusually personal and caught him by surprise. He hesitated a moment before answering.
Did he? Was he hoping that Dumbledore would fill the void Sirius' death had left in him? That he would take Sirius' place as a surrogate to ease his grief at losing a family member?
He trusted Dumbledore. It was he who had protected him from Voldemort. It was he who had tried to take the blame for Sirius' death, and it was he who had let Harry rage while - he recalled with a pang of remorse – he was trashing his office.
Dumbledore had not stopped him, had watched him patiently and calmly, as he did now while waiting for Harry's swirling thoughts to settle.
"I don’t know," Harry mumbled, realizing how unconvincing his own words sounded to him.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in astonishment.
"Why did you come to see me tonight?" he urged and Harry got the feeling that Dumbledore wanted Harry to give him an answer he already knew.
"I don't know," Harry repeated now a little irritated.
It wasn't a lie. He didn't know exactly why he had come here or what he wanted to talk about. Maybe he didn't want to talk at all.
But it wasn't quite the truth either. He tried not to think about how lost and heartbroken he had felt earlier while he lay awake with those around him sleeping peacefully, fearing Dumbledore might read it in his mind. How he longed for love and caring, for someone to talk to who understood. Being examined made him uncomfortable and feeling exposed.
Dumbledore was intruding on something he shouldn't know. Harry would be ashamed to reveal those feelings, looking helpless and unlike the brave hero Dumbledore seemed to see in him. But he felt more readable than he had ever been in Occlumency class and could not muster the will or strength to hide from the all-knowing gaze of those blue eyes.
"Maybe, I thought…", but Harry's voice trailed off in mid-sentence. He clenched a fist and stared at the floor.
◊
Dumbledore took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.
"It is no sign of weakness to mourn the loss of those we loved," he continued quietly.
"I know!" Harry blurted out loud. His voice found itself again and he felt anger boiling up inside him. "You have no idea what-"
Dumbledore cut him off, "Yet you cringe and do not allow yourself to grieve."
"I don't cringe", Harry replied loudly, realizing how childish he sounded, but Dumbledore continued undeterred.
"Why are you angry?”
“I'm not-" Harry yelled, but quickly realized his fallacy and forced himself to remain calm.
"What does it matter”, he growled dismissive, jumping up from his chair, turning around and stepping away from Dumbledore towards the window.
He looked over the castle grounds but didn't consciously perceive them. He knew he couldn't justify to lash out at Dumbledore again, but he felt at the mercy of his anger and could do nothing about it.
Dumbledore stood up as well and joined him at the window, where he also let his gaze wander over the quiet castle grounds.
"It can be terrifying to face your fear - in your case, grief.“ Dumbledore said. "You may feel hopeless and alone, but I can assure you that you are not."
Dumbledore smiled at him encouragingly but Harry didn't answer. However, as Dumbledore didn't demand any reply, Harry felt his brief burst of wrath die down, leaving him weak and unresisting.
His clenched fists loosened but he continued to stare blankly out the window.
Sure, he was sad, but what got him was the immense sense of guilt. He couldn't let it go, he felt responsible and didn't think any words could change that.
He, Harry, had gone into the Department of Mysteries and it was only because of him that Sirius had come there. He wanted to tell Sirius how sorry he was, how stupid he'd been, how he regretted not listening to him and for not trying harder in Occlumency class.
He had disappointed everyone. Everyone had told him he had to keep going, that it was the most important thing. Lupin, Hermione, Ron and Dumbledore, too... they were right, but he didn’t care enough.
◊
"It's more than that." Harry replied dejectedly after a while. He found it difficult to talk about it, to admit to himself how much he suffered, and even more so to admit it in front of someone else.
Dumbledore looked at him sympathetically, as if he could empathize with what was going on inside Harry and how much he was toiling himself.
But something else seemed to catch Dumbledores attention, and Harry saw him tilt his head.
Dumbledore stepped closer to him and eyed Harry's hand curiously.
"May I?", Dumbledore asked politely, holding out his palm in anticipation.
Harry didn't mind, yet it felt a little awkward to reach out and have his hand examined.
Dumbledore read the words engraved on the back of his hand, now outlined by pale scars:
I must not tell lies.
A touch of regret crossed Dumbledore's face as he stared wordlessly at the sentence, running his thumb over the letters as if to make sure they were really there or to undo them, to wipe them away.
"I am very sorry, Harry." he said and shook his head woefully.
"It’s nothing." Harry quickly appeased and withdrew his hand.
A pleasant shudder had crept up his arm from the gentle touch and Harry turned away precautionary as his heart beat nervously in his throat. He hadn't wanted to pull his hand away, but he knew that it shouldn't have felt as welcome to him. It confused him and made him upset, not knowing what he wanted and unable to think about what he needed while the memories of the school year came back flooding in on him.
Last summer's dementor attack, his hearing at the Ministry of Magic, the uncertainty of returning to Hogwarts.
Hogwarts had been his home and he had been so relieved to be able to return, but this time everything had felt different. Foreign and cold...
Umbridge who tormented him, the hours with Snape he hated so much. Everything that had made him happy had been taken away from him little by little. Hagrid, Quidditch, ... Sirius...
And Dumbledore wasn’t there. Dumbledore, who he so desperately needed, who didn't even look at him. Dumbledore, who had himself expelled from school for him.
Harrys breath trembled slightly as he inhaled deeply to relieve the pinching tightness in his chest and felt a suspicious burning sensation in his throat.
"I just wish you had been here," Harry slipped out before he could stop himself.
◊
"I am here now," Dumbledore answered gently.
Maybe it was the calm in his voice or the empathy that resonated in his words.
Tears welled up in Harry and the corners of his mouth twitched suspiciously. He craved for compassion, someone to lean on and hold on to.
He didn't look at Dumbledore, didn’t want to know what he thought of it; took a hesitant step towards him, and then the distance between them was closed.
Harry clutched Dumbledores robes and pressed his face to his chest so he wouldn't have to reveal that he was now silently shedding tears.
Dumbledore seemed to pause for a brief moment, but then he wrapped his arms around Harry to spend him the comfort he sorely needed.
Shaking from the effort, Harry tried to stifle any sound that betrayed him and he held on as if he feared being swept away by the tide of grief and guilt that was washing over him, crushing him with all its magnitude and violence.
But Dumbledore was there, unwavering and protective, his arm around Harry and began to stroke his hair, over and over, gentle, comforting, loving.
Soon Harry calmed down a bit. He felt drained and tired, as if he was coming to rest for the first time since the beginning of the year, and inevitably wondered how he had endured the tension for so long.
With his eyes closed and his head resting against Dumbledore, he heard a calm heart beating and felt his chest heave under slow breaths that Harry soon matched his own rhythm to.
A surge of gratitude washed over Harry and hesitantly he glanced up.
Dumbledore looked back at him fondly as his blue eyes caught Harry's and drew him in.
He wasn't thinking anymore, he couldn't. No word in the world could have done justice to expressing how he felt. What he had to say, what he couldn't tell.
Harry lifted his head a little further, his heart pounding in his throat but he barely noticed it.
Dumbledore held his gaze, but when there was barely more than a few inches between them, he closed his eyes and Harry followed along.
It wasn't a kiss, there was nothing romantic about it.
Their lips met, tender and delicate, just barely perceptible.
They remained motionless for a few seconds, embracing the gentle touch, its sensation, the trust, the intimacy.
◊
Then Harry's sanity kicked in and he jumped back, bumping into a shelf on his back.
His eyes widened in dismay and he looked at Dumbledore in bewilderment.
"Professor," he gasped, aghast at himself. "I didn't - I didn't mean to -" he didn't know what to say.
Dumbledore had stayed where he was, still with his eyes closed and smiled.
"I'm very flattered, Harry," he said quietly and opened his eyes.
Harry's heart was racing. What had gotten into him? Ashamed he looked down, unable to justify his behavior.
"There is no shame in showing your love - or perhaps you prefer to call it gratitude - nor to express it in that way," said Dumbledore.
The words passed Harry as if they hadn't been spoken. "I don't know what got into me, I'm sorry," was Harry's weak attempt at apology.
"I had all the skills necessary to stop you if I had any objections," Dumbledore smiled and Harry was almost certain he gave him a small wink.
"You wanted... you... what?" Harry was confused.
"I am content to be loved," Dumbledore stated plainly.
Something in his voice made Harry feel like he had to justify himself.
"Me too, but-" Harry replied quickly, but Dumbledore interrupted him with a wave of his hand and Harry fell silent as he didn't want to allow himself another misstep.
"Maybe you think you don’t deserve affection after what happened in the Department of Mysteries.“ It was not a question but an observation.
"That's not-" Harry interjected but Dumbledore cut him off.
"Do you feel unlovable?"
"No, but-" he quickly answered but Dumbledore raised his hand again to silence Harry.
"No 'buts', Harry," Dumbledore smiled softly.
Harry didn't like being brushed off like that. "But if I hadn't-" he began, louder now and more irritated as Dumbledore didn't let him finish.
"Enough, Harry," he said firmly but Harry couldn't contain himself anymore.
"Now listen to me!" he shouted and clenched his fists again. "It's all my fault. I didn't want to hear it, I didn't understand what's so bad about the visions other than it's uncomfortable to see what Voldemort is doing, and honestly" he paused, debating whether to say it, "after what had happened to Mr. Weasley, I didn't even consider to close my mind. And this door, I wanted it to open all the time. I stood in front of it every night and I wanted to know what's behind it, what's at the end. It was me, I wanted to know. If I hadn't been so stupid, if I hadn't thought I knew everything better, if I hadn't been so stubborn and listened to you, he would still be alive!" Harry blurted out, and this time Dumbledore didn't interrupt him. "I took my friends there, how can I look them in the eye again when I've ignored their advice and their concerns all year?"
Harry was breathing heavily and shaking with exasperation, but Dumbledore didn't answer immediately, politely waiting for him to finish.
„Isn’t it you who does not forgive yourself?" he then asked with a raised eyebrow.
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't find the right words and said nothing. He averted his gaze and looked out the window again at the Forbidden Forest, which lay mystical and silent below them.
Before they made their way to the Ministry of Magic, he and Hermione had been there, followed by Umbridge. How Dumbledore had managed to save Umbridge from the centaurs, it flashed through his mind. But this wasn't the right moment to find out.
"Do you?", Harry asked sorely after a while.
◊
Dumbledore peered at Harry for a moment, then turned and walked back to his desk.
"It's getting late," Dumbledore said, glancing at his clock, ignoring Harry's question.
"Oh," Harry said, feeling dismayed at being dismissed from the conversation so suddenly.
He was aggrieved that Dumbledore didn't elaborate on his justifications, and to him it felt like approval. He wanted Dumbledore to contradict him as he did last time and tell him it wasn't his fault, even if Harry hadn't believed him. Part of him felt like storming out of the office, but another feeling stirred in him that didn't want him to leave in such an unpleasant way.
Confused with himself, he turned to the door, stopped mid-step, looked back at Dumbledore and wanted to say something but did not have the heart to do so. He would never be able to ask, not anymore.
Dumbledore eyed him with amused curiosity and then decided to redeem him from his struggle.
It was just a slight movement as he bent his arms and turned his palms toward Harry in an obliging gesture.
Harry didn't hesitate, but smiled sheepishly at the floor while he walked over to Dumbledore, who welcomed him benevolently in his arms.
He took another deep breath to shake off the tension and shame that would surely catch up with him later, but he didn't want to think about it now as he nuzzled his head against his Headmaster's chest.
A peculiar warmth seemed to emanate from Dumbledore that swept through Harry like a surge of hope, so strong and absorbing that Harry wondered for a moment if Dumbledore might have cast a spell on him.
But one hand was on his back, pulling him closer and the other stroked his untameable hair again so he dismissed the thought.
Sirius had been the first to hug him like that. They never had enough time...
"Professor," Harry muttered under his breath into Dumbledore's chest. He realized how pathetic he sounded, but he wanted to say it because it was important to him, "Not you too."
Dumbledore seemed to understand and hesitated a moment before he spoke, choosing his words carefully.
"I'm always with you, Harry," Dumbledore finally said into the silence.
"Here..." and he playfully tapped Harry on the forehead twice and Harry winced a little as he was not expecting that.
Dumbledore paused and put a finger beneath Harry's chin. It wasn't a demand, rather a question, a possibility.
Heart pounding nervously, Harry lifted his head and closed his eyes precautionary so he wouldn't have to look at Dumbledore. His own behavior shamed him a little and it would take him longer to come to terms with it.
Dumbledore cautiously leaned towards him and stopped, hardly more than a touch away so that Harry could feel his breath waving softly over him.
„And here.“ he breathed just before their lips touched again.
A warm feeling of gratitude and comfort spread in his stomach once more, which seemed to banish the sadness and emptiness of the last few weeks.
The image of a phoenix reborn from its ashes shot through his mind. He thought of Fawkes, of the empowering sound of his singing, of his healing tears, and how every ending meant a new beginning. Dumbledore's Patronus was a phoenix as well, how terribly appropriate it was, he thought.
He thought of his own Patronus, the stag, his parents. Maybe Dumbledore was right. For the first time since he had heard it, he understood why his ability to love might be the one that would save him someday.
He couldn't give himself up. He could not abandon everyone he cared about. He had to move on. For Sirius, who he had lost, for his parents who had died for him, for his friends who stood by him, who stayed with him, even in the face of death.
For Dumbledore, who was there for him. Who had faced Voldemort to protect him, who didn't judge him and who cared enough for him to show him affection.
Comforted by those thoughts, for the first time in weeks, Harry smiled.
Dumbledore, noticing the change in Harry's mood, pulled away and looked at him contentedly.
"I do." he said.