Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction in several years. I'm hoping to see this one through to the end, and I'm sure you're hoping the same. Reviews will definitely be encouraging. I'm still working out where I'm going with this story. I originally wanted it to be Harry/Voldemort, but it's looking to be more of a Harry/Draco fic. I have the first chapter halfway written, and it should be up sometime tomorrow.

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Deathly Hollows wouldn't have had an epilogue. :/


"Stay where you are, Harry!"

For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened. Harry could not see why. The hall was quite empty but for themselves, the sobbing Bellatrix still trapped under her statue, and the tiny baby Fawkes croaking feebly on the floor --

And then Harry's scar burst open. He knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance --

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature's began. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape --

And when the creature spoke, it used Harry's mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move…

"Kill me now, Dumbledore…"

Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again…

"If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…"

'Let the pain stop,' thought Harry. 'Let him kill us… End it, Dumbledore… Death is nothing compared to this…'

'And I'll see Sirius again…'

And as Harry's heart filled with emotion, the creatures coils loosened, the pain was gone, Harry was lying facedown on the floor, his glasses gone, shivering as though he lay upon ice not wood…

As Harry's senses returned to him, he noticed two things. First, he was definitely no longer in that hall at the Ministry, and second, he was lying on the floor, next to a rather large, comfortable looking bed. He slowly sat up, rubbing his head, which was pounding. There was a soft knock on the door to his right, before it swung open, revealing a healthy and clean shaven Sirius.

"Hey, Kiddo," He smiled warmly at Harry. "Your mother says it's time to get up. Draco will be here soon… What are you doing on the floor?" A confused look crossed his face.

Harry stared up at Sirius in shock. He was positive that he was dead now. Dumbledore must've listened to Voldemort and put him out of his misery. He'd never seen Sirius looking so well. And what had he said? His mother? He must be in Heaven. Faintly he became aware that Sirius was now kneeling in front of him with a worried expression, calling his name.

"Harry? Harry, are you okay?" He pressed a cool hand against Harry's forehead. "You don't have a fever…." He frowned.

"What…day is it…?" Harry's voice was raspy. He needed to get something to drink soon.

"Thursday." Sirius ruffled his hair and stood up, offering him a hand. "Come on, Lily says you need to eat before Draco gets here."

Harry's mind was reeling. Why did Sirius keep mentioning this Draco? Who was he? If this was truly Heaven, then it definitely wasn't Draco Malfoy. Not that Harry would ever spend time with Malfoy, even in the after life.

He followed Sirius out into a hall and down a flight of stairs, then into the kitchen. Upon looking around, trying to figure out where he was, his breath caught in his throat. Standing over by the stove, hair tied back in a loose bun, reading a book as she scrambled eggs, was Lily Potter nee Evans.

"M-Mum…" His mouth was hanging open in awe and tears began to rise into his eyes.

"Finally decide to get out of bed? You just missed your father. He's left for work already." She turned around to smile at Harry, then frowned, noticing the tears. "Are you alright, dear? What's wrong?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, only to find the room spinning. His head felt like it was bursting open again, and he squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing his scar.

"Harry!" Lily's voice was frantic and she ran forward as Harry fell back, collapsed on the floor yet again.


When Harry's eyes opened again, he found himself back in the chaos of the ministry once again. The hall was beginning to flood with Ministry Officials as they swarmed in from the fireplaces all around. He struggled to sit up, surprised when Dumbledore's hands, weathered with old age, reached out to help him from the floor.

'It was a dream…' He thought sadly, swaying on his feet. 'None of it was real…I'm all alone…' A shuddering sob overtook him, and he fought not to sink back to the floor. Even if only for a few minutes, he'd been so happy. Now, though, he was trapped in a cruel reality, where he had no family left, and was about to be forcefully thrown into the middle of a war that he wanted nothing to do with.

Truly, somebody must hate him.