A/N: Alright, so this is my first multi-chaptered Harry Potter fanfic. Depending on how things go, I may or may not continue it. Should I? You tell me, via reviews.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, nor am I making a profit out of this piece. This is merely to provide myself something to do, and give you enjoyment. As much as I wish these beautiful characters were mine, they belong to Rowling. The plot is mine though.

Warnings: This will lead to a male/male relationship, but I rate it PG13, because nothing really happens. Anyways, if you do not like slash, do not bother reading. Also, implied rape of a minor, child abuse, and suicidal/dark tendencies. It gets lighter, promise. And now, enjoy the first chapter of Escaping Darkness.


Is it an horrific dream?

Am I sinking fast?

Could a person be so mean

As to laugh and laugh?

On my own.

Could you ease my load?

Could you see my Pain?

Could you please explain

The Hurting?

Could you understand a child

When he cries in Pain?

Could you give him all he needs?

Or do you feel the same?

All along

You've been told you're wrong,

When you felt it right,

And you're left to fight

The Hurting.

Get in line with the things you know.

Feel the Pain.

Feel the sorrow.

Touch the hurt and don't let go.

Get in line with the things you know.

Learn to cry,

Like a baby,

Then the hurting won't come back.

~The Hurting by Tears for Fears

The room was devoid of comfort, of anything normally found in a bedroom. The only thing that hinted at the room's purpose was the tiny bed in the corner. Dirty sheets, torn and ragged, covered the flimsy mattress, and the wooden frame was not much better. What little light there was filtering through the thick layer of dirt covering the window revealed a huddled shape, pressed into the farthest corner of the bed.

The young boy sat there, curled up in a fetal position, his hands clenched into tiny fists. His skinny five year-old body shook, from cold, from pain, and from the sobs that wracked his entire person. The trembling grew even worse, as the boy's ears registered a sound he had learned to fear.

Footsteps.

Footsteps on the stairway.

Footsteps stopping in front of his door.

The creaking of the door was ominously loud in the bare room, and the boy let out a whimper. The light spilling into the room from the doorway not only enhanced the bruises and cuts on the child's face and arms, but also the shape of a large, hulking man. Vernon Dursley leered at his nephew, his eyes raking over the boy's body.

"Get up, boy," he growled. His nephew shuddered and shook his head.

"No, please...not tonight, Uncle. Please..."

Vernon ignored the sobbing pleas, crossing the room in a few strides. He grabbed a fistful of the boy's messy black hair, and yanked. As the boy whimpered again in pain, Vernon shoved his face into his. "You will do what I tell you to, when I tell you too," he snarled, before shoving the boy back.

Harry fought to keep the bile from rising in his throat, as his uncle loomed over him.

Vernon began to undo his belt, loving the way his nephew squirmed away from him. "Petunia and Dudley went out to the movies tonight," he explained with a harsh laugh. "You and I are gonna have some fun, boy."

Harry's eyes grew wider, and he shook his head frantically. "No, please! Please, Uncle! I'll be a good boy...I'll be a good boy...just don't do...don't do that..." His frightened sobs became screams, rising in pitch, as the older man drew closer.

Harry's screams faded, however, as his once-brilliant green eyes dulled, and he retreated within himself...deep within his mind...where no one could touch him. No one could hurt him.

All the while, his broken and abused body was used by Vernon, who left him once he had gotten what he had wanted.

•••

"I'm sorry, Father." The small blonde boy stared down at his feet, his pale skin even whiter under the glare of his father. Lucius Malfoy sneered at his son.

"All I asked was one simple thing, yet you couldn't even do that...you're a failure, you are. If only your mother could have borne me another son...one who is less of a disappointment."

Draco's silvery grey eyes were a mixture of fear and hurt, the odd misery swirling in his gaze. "I won't let you down again," he promised, his small voice pleading. "I'll be a good boy. Promise."

Suddenly, a loud smack echoed through the office. The clean, pristine office that looked like it had never been used.

The young boy fell to the ground, holding his cheek in fearful pain. The elder Malfoy towered over his son, his face twisted in rage. "You've said that every single time. And every single time, you fail. It's high time I taught you a lesson. A real lesson."

Draco screamed in terror, as his father leveled his wand at the boy. "I don't want to hear your screams," Lucius snarled. "A Malfoy hides their pain. And hides it well."

The boy clamped his mouth shut, but it promptly opened again in a silent wail, as the Cruciatus Curse was flung at him. Malfoy Sr. laughed coldly, as his son writhed in pain, for all of three minutes, until he ended the spell. With hardly a moment to let the boy breathe, another spell was flung at him.

Draco bit his lip, the blood staining his innocent, finely shaped lips, trying to keep from screaming again, as fire shot through him. Red marks, etched into long furrows in his skin, began to appear through his clothing. Blood pooled around him, as the slash wounds began to deepen and widen.

Finally, the pain became too much, and he was forced to let out a small whimper. This only angered his father further, and Lucius kicked out, catching Draco's ribs.

There was a sharp crack, and Draco curled in on himself, his tiny six year-old body shuddering with the impact. The beating continued, accompanied by Dark spells that brought terrible pain upon the boy. It continued far into the night, when Lucius Malfoy finally stopped the torture.

"We'll see how long it takes to get some sense into you, boy," he spat, aiming one final kick at the terrified and injured boy. With that, he walked off, leaving the boy to heal his own wounds as best as he could with a wand that wasn't his, a wand he didn't even know how to use.

•••

10 years later...

"Harry? Harry, are you listening to me?"

The voice broke through his thoughts. Harry looked up to see the concerned face of Hermione Granger. The young witch huffed with annoyance, more concerned than angry. Harry sighed, and raised his eyebrows. "What?"

Hermione shot him a disapproving look. "I asked you why you haven't eaten anything."

Harry glanced down at his plate. "I have," he said defensively.

"All of two bites!" His friend huffed again, her brow furrowed. "What is it this time?"

Harry shrugged half-heartedly, shooting a glance towards the redheaded gulper next to him. Said gulper, one Ronald Weasley, was, unsurprisingly, gulping down the food as though there would be no more food for a month. As usual. Ron looked up, and caught Harry's look.

"Why does there have to be something wrong? Maybe he's not hungry, right mate?"

Harry shot his friend a grateful look, then turned back to Hermione. Her eyes narrowed, but she dropped the subject, in favor of lecturing the two of them on the upcoming Transfiguration test. According to McGonagall, it would prove vital in maintaining their current grades.

Harry tuned out, opting to simply observe the Great Hall, his thoughts wandering. It would hurt them, he thought sadly, if they only knew. It's not them...but me. They should not have to put up with the pain...

Suddenly, he stood, and pushed his plate away. "I'm not hungry, like Ron said," he said in explanation to Hermione's look. "I'll meet you guys in Potions later. Just need some time to think." Without giving his friends a chance to say anything, Harry had disappeared from the table, his unruly black mop making its way towards the doors.

•••

Draco laughed at their jokes. He smirked when they made fun of Potter. He smiled when Pansy laid a gentle hand upon his arm.

But none of it meant anything anymore.

It was all a front, so that they wouldn't know. They couldn't know his weakness. The Slytherins couldn't find about about his struggle, until it was too late.

So until then, the Slytherin Ice Prince would continue his charade, keeping up the façade that was necessary.

He continued poking at his food, not really eating it. Whenever he did take a bite, for show of course, he tasted nothing. Just like their words really didn't reach him.

When had it all changed? Why did he no longer feel anything? He felt nothing, except for that blessed relief he sought at times, within the cold, sharp edge, tugging at the velvety smoothness of his skin, within the sight of red weeping from his wounds, within the aloneness that was his sanctuary.

Draco sighed, and stood. Pansy looked up at him, her face smiling up at him. He forced himself to smile back at her. "I'll be back. Need to use the loo," he said in explanation, before hurrying off.

Soon.

Within minutes, he could gain that small measure of comfort.

Soon.

•••

He clutched the vial hidden in his robes as if it were a lifeline in the storm that surrounded him. In a way, it was.

Soon, he told himself.

He made his way to the abandoned girls' bathroom. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Harry pushed open the door, glancing around to make sure no one else was around, before disappearing inside.

Myrtle appeared almost instantly. "Hello, Harry," she said with a cheeky grin. "Decided to come visit, have you?"

Harry forced a grin. "Yes, Myrtle. I've come for a long visit today." Myrtle blushed - if it was possible for a ghost to blush - and she giggled, a high-pitched, annoying sound that almost made Harry turn back. But he didn't. He was done running from everything, and running from Myrtle's giggle was not going to be added to that list.

He was done.

Harry smiled again, and pulled out the potion. He uncorked it, and raised it in salute to Myrtle, who looked at it, her dead eyes brightening with understanding. "You can share my u-bend," she said shyly. Harry shrugged, bringing the potion to his lips.

Suddenly, he remembered something, and pulled a note out of his robes, crumpling it in his hand. Goodbye, Ron, Hermione. I'm sorry, he thought, before downing the potion.

Once the flask was empty, he waited. How long would it take?

The creaking of the bathroom door startled him, and he turned to see Draco Malfoy entering the bathroom. The blonde looked up, surprised to see another in the bathroom. Surprised to see Harry. His face contorted in disdain.

"What are you doing here, Potter? Having a little fun with Myrtle here?" Draco smirked. His smirk gave way to confusion, as Potter gave him a small smile.

"You could say that," Harry said, his words beginning to slur. "Just a little fun...only a little fun...I'm tired now...I'd like to sleep...don' wan' no more trouble...don' wan' no mo'..." His eyelids drooped as a funny feeling came over him. His limbs felt like lead, and he just wanted to sleep. Just a nap...just a nap...

"Potter?" Draco snapped suspiciously, eyeing the boy, who was wavering on his feet. When Potter began rambling, his eyes narrowed. Suddenly, Harry pitched forward without warning, and Draco yelled in surprise, "What the- Potter!"

The blonde managed to catch the other before he struck the floor, setting him down almost gently. Draco looked up at Myrtle. "What's going on?"

"Drank something, he did...said he'd like to join me in my u-bend." Myrtle laughed chillingly, happy at the prospect of finally having someone share the bathroom with her. Draco's eyes widened, and he looked down at Potter, who now began to thrash wildly, his skin turning pale.

He dropped down to the boy's side, now thoroughly frightened and confused. Potter was dying in front of him, and he had no idea why. He noticed the empty vial nearby, and the crumpled note in Potter's fist, which he pulled away from the grasping fingers. As Potter's actions became even more erratic, as did his breathing, Draco became frantic.

He stood with jerky movements, and began sprinting, out the door, down the halls, to the Potions classroom. He burst through the door, not bothering to knock. He realized dazedly that class must have just started, because students were still quieting down. The room fell dead silent at the sight of Draco Malfoy standing there, pale as death, shaking violently.

"I assume you have a good reason for being late and interrupting my class, Mr. Malfoy?" Severus glared at his godson, arms crossed.

Draco didn't bother explaining. "Potter," he gasped. "Bathroom...choking...he's convulsing...I can't figure out what's wrong!"

Severus eyed him for a moment, then his brain registered the frantic movements of the younger Malfoy.

"Show me," he commanded. Draco wasted no time in rushing back out the door, barely hearing Severus', "Granger! You're in charge!"

The two Slytherins raced down the hallways, ignoring the stares of students late to class. Finally, just as Draco was explaining, "It's some kind of potion," they reached the bathroom. Draco sprinted through the door, halting as he entered.

Potter lay deathly still in the eerily quiet bathroom. Severus muttered something, and approached with quick steps. The potions master dropped to his knees, and began to wave his wand over the boy, murmuring something under his breath. His eyes darkened as he discovered the source of the problem. Without hesitation, he began to chant a spell, and a green glow began to surrounded Potter. A few moments passed, then the glow turned white, eliciting a sigh of relief from Severus.

He looked up at Draco, who looked ready to pass out at the sight of the still body, and he said soothingly, "Relax. I think Mr. Potter will be quite alright...with a trip to the infirmary of course. You saved his life, Draco. Ten points to Slytherin for your quick thinking."

Draco just sat there for a moment, his eyes fixed on Potter. The boy's skin was tinted blue, and was only just beginning to return to a pasty white. Severus stood, and waved his wand towards Potter, levitating him. The man gave Draco a rare sympathetic look. "It's a strange sight, to see someone dying in front of you, and you know you can do nothing," he said in a low voice. "Not sure why there were those toxins in his body, but we'll get to the bottom of this." He kept his private thoughts to himself - oh yes, he had a pretty good idea, judging by the potency of the potion - but it would not do to let anyone else besides Madame Pomfrey know.

With a final soothing look to the shell-shocked Draco, Snape left the bathroom, the unconscious Potter floating in front of him.

Draco watched them go, then turned to the paper in his hand, ignoring Myrtle's complaints about not having anyone to share her u-bend with. Instead, his mind whirled, as he gripped the letter with whitened fingers.

I can't take it anymore...

I'm tired of the pain, the guilt, the lies...

I'm tired of being the Golden Boy, the Boy-Who-Lived-But-Didn't-Want-To. I'm tired of being the only one who can defeat Voldemort, of being the sacrificial lamb.

Call me selfish, but I just want to be Harry... just once, I want to be myself, without having to feel guilty about so-and-so's family dying, or being tortured. I want to be myself, without the front I must keep up. I want to have friendship, and hatred, just like any other sixth year.

But I've never had that, and I never will.

None of it was real...

It wasn't me.

I know it's selfish. I know that I shouldn't voice my opinions, when there are people out there, dying so that I can have another go at the monster. But I don't care anymore.

All I wanted was to be Harry. But I couldn't. My life would never be normal, not even if I did defeat the snake. I couldn't bear that knowledge.

So I say goodbye.

Goodbye to friends. Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Neville...and all those others.

Goodbye to family. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Dumbledore...

Even goodbye to enemies. Malfoy, Snape, the other Slytherins...Wish our enmity had been real. It would have been interesting.

Goodbye to life.

Harry Potter ~ the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Died-Just-Like-Any-Other-Human-Being