It took exactly 10 minutes before Harry and Draco began to fight.

"Honestly Potter, we learned this in second year! Do you have to work at being this incompetent or does it just come naturally to you?"

"Oh I'm so sorry that during second year everyone thought I was the heir of Slytherin, and I had to open the fucking chamber of secrets and fight a teenage Voldemort! I knew this wasn't going to work."

"You didn't even try!"

"I am trying! I have always tried at potions! If Snape wasn't so fucking obsessed with my dead parents, maybe I'd be better at it! I could do every single thing right and he would still find fault with what I've done, so why bother? Nothing I've ever done has been good enough, so why start now?!"

Standing up, Harry slammed his chair against the table and stormed out of the room, directly to the room of requirement. He needed the half blood prince's book back, everyone else be damned.

It took some time, but he was finally able to find it from where Ginny had hidden it. Promises were broken all the time, and this one was for good cause. Besides, Harry felt like after searching through a bunch of charred remains, he deserved this.

Instead of bringing it back to his room just yet, he decided to pay a visit to McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter. Have you thought about my proposal then?"

"I actually came to talk about something else. Do you have, or know where I could find, anything from my parents? Letters, photographs, homework assignments even. I'm not sure what gets saved, but I'd like something else."

"I'll see what I can find," McGonagall replied softly.

"Is it okay if I leave for a bit? I'll be back before classes tomorrow, I just need some time."

"Of course. Just take care of yourself, and come back tonight."

"Thank you."

Draco meanwhile was frantically searching everywhere for Harry. He realized he had messed up, and spent the whole time cursing himself. Treating Harry like that encouraged him to take care of himself, but he should have realized when it came to academics it would have the opposite effect. For once, he hadn't meant to rile Potter up. It didn't feel as good as it used to. Instead, Draco was overcome with shame and the need to make things right.

When he finally spotted Potter, it was from the window. He watched as Potter walked quickly, head bent low, before getting far enough to apparate. Draco dropped his head against the window and sighed, wondering how he could make this right.

The first thing Harry had done was put on a glamour and get some flowers. Then, he made his way to Godric's Hollow, where he spent hours sitting, talking, and doing some planting. As the sun was setting, Harry brushed his hands on the knees of jeans and made his way through the gate.

Pausing, his eyes fell on the house that held the memory of the events that had changed his life forever. Squaring his shoulders, he walked inside. He had told himself that he would return after that day during seventh year, but he could never build up the nerve. His emotions were all over the place today anyway, so there was no time like the present.

Walking through, he took in the sight of what his parents saw in their final moments. He saw what they had done to try to protect him. The sight of his nursery, so innocent yet so broken from the horrors that had happened there, sent Harry falling to his knees.

Heart wrenching sobs echoed across the room, and Harry cried until he could barely breathe. He hadn't been able to cry after the war, too numb to all that had happened. He had finally broke, and didn't know how he would be able to come back together. Wiping his eyes, he looked for anything that he could take back with him, any remnants from his parents or his short lived time with them.

There was no guilt to be found as he opened drawers and began pulling things out. Why should his trauma continue to be capitalized on? His parents' things turned into relics and artifacts? Didn't Harry deserve to have something of theirs?

Finally, he found a stack of letters his father had written to his mother. They were unbelievably cheesy, he could tell which ones were written before his parents had gotten together, but it was nice to have this small insight into what their lives had been like. Harry carefully tucked the letters into the half blood prince's book, cursing to himself as the book slipped out of his hands.

Groaning, he compiled the letters back into a pile. Picking the book up, he carefully ran his fingers over the pages, straightening them out. As he tucked the letters into the open pages, he paused. His jaw dropped as he noticed that the handwriting in his father's letters matched that of the open page in the book. Quickly flipping through, Harry noticed a change in handwriting at the end of the book.

Collecting what he had found, Harry quickly made his way back to Hogwarts, running to McGonagall's office.

"Mr. Potter, thank you for alerting me of your return, but I assure you it was not this urgent."

"I need to speak with Snape," Harry panted.

"That is a highly unusual request-"

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent."

Tight lipped, McGonagall looked at Snape's portrait.

"Severus?"

"Make it quick, I don't have all day."

"On the contrary, you have all of eternity," McGonagall replied warily, stepping out for a few moments to give Harry some privacy.

"Potter," Snape sneered. "What did I tell you about that book?"

"It's what you didn't tell me that I care about. Why is my father's handwriting in what you claim is your book?"

The anger on Snape's face told Harry all he needed to know.

"Did you steal his book?!"

"I didn't steal anything. You picked up your penchant not only for your father's running mouth, but his ability to constantly misplace things."

"I can't fucking believe this. You were the worst professor imaginable and made so many students' lives a living hell, and you're a fraud?!"

"How dare you-"

"I know some of these spells are yours, I can recognize your handwriting now, and they're dark and evil. You took credit for my father's work all because of this grudge that you've held for years. Every time I think I have some shred of respect for you, it shrivels up and dies."

With that, Harry stormed out of the office, nodding to McGonagall, and wrapped himself up in the cloak before making his way to the kitchens. He ate there, not wanting to head back to the common room yet, knowing there would be questions that he didn't feel like answering.

After eating, he made his way to the library, where he asked for a book on duplication spells. He answered Madame Pince's questioning look by telling her that he simply wanted to duplicate his notes so that he could write on a copy and not damage the original. She sent him away with three books, parchment, a quill, and ink to practice.

Finally, Harry found the perfect spell. Upon leaving the library, he used the cloak to once again enter the room of requirement. This is where Harry began painstakingly creating a new book. He wanted none of Snape's dark spells, only the work that his father had written down.

Once Harry had every single page duplicated and in order, the room provided him with materials to bind them all together into a new notebook. Harry then copied his father's name in his own handwriting onto the front of the book, so it now read "Property of James Potter." Feeling satisfied, Harry returned the half blood prince's book to where it had been placed. He didn't need it anymore now that he had his father's work.

Now, Harry was making his way to the art room. His heart was still heavy, and he needed to do something to attempt to feel better. So many songs were playing through his head, and he was finding it hard to find one that matches how he was feeling exactly.

Strumming aimlessly, Harry finally found one that he thought would suffice. Voice low and broken, he began to sing.

Talk about it, I don't wanna talk about it
Got too many things on my mind
Think about it, I don't wanna think about it
Maybe that's why I'm always high

You always got one, two, three, four, five more things to say
Tellin' me six, seven, eight, nine, ten more things to change
But till that day

Don't mind me, I'm just feelin' kinda broken, kinda broken
If you need me, I'll be here with my emotions, my emotions
You should know I feel some type of way, I don't even know why
I'm just needin' a little space, I'm just needin' a little time
Don't mind me, I'm just feelin' kinda broken
So I'll be here with my emotions

Cry about it, I don't wanna cry about it
But I still can't help it sometimes
Fight about it, I don't wanna fight about it
I'm already screamin' inside

I always got one, two, three, four, five more ways to break
I always got six, seven, eight, nine, ten brand new mistakes
I know I'll make

Don't mind me, I'm just feelin' kinda broken, kinda broken
If you need me, I'll be here with my emotions, my emotions
You should know I feel some type of way, I don't even know why
I'm just needin' a little space, I'm just needin' a little time
Don't mind me, I'm just feelin' kinda broken
So I'll be here with my emotions

I'm doin' my best and I guess that's the best I can do
(Where did I go wrong? Where did I go wrong?)
I'm doin' my best and I guess that's the best I can do
(Where did I go wrong? Where did I go wrong?)
I'm doin' my best and I guess that's the best I can do
(Where did I go wrong? Where did I go wrong?)
I'm doin' my best and I guess that's the best I can do

Don't mind me, I'm just feelin' kinda broken, kinda broken
If you need me, I'll be here with my emotions, my emotions
You should know I feel some type of way, I don't even know why
I'm just needin' a little space, I'm just needin' a little time
Don't mind me, I'm just feelin' kinda broken
So I'll be here with my emotions

When Harry emerged from the room, it was to a bouquet of flowers and some very expensive looking chocolate waiting, seemingly, for him. Face contorted in confusion, he picked up the small card on top of the box.

"I'm sorry," was written in looping handwriting, and a small frown remained on Harry's face as he looked around the room.

Collecting his things, he made his way back to his room, with too many things on his mind. He narrowly avoided Ron and Hermione, and snuck into his room at the end of the hall. Hiding the book, Harry got ready for bed.

After coming back from the bathroom, he saw a piece of parchment had been slid under his door.

"I really am sorry, and I hope we can move past this. Same time tomorrow if you're still interested. If you don't show, I'll know.

Goodnight Scarhead.

— DM"

As Harry climbed into bed, he thought that sounded like a tomorrow problem.

{This chapter's song is Emotions by 5 Seconds of Summer}