Disclaimer: Alas, 'tis true. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Not I. *dramatic sigh*
Warning: This story contains SLASH…if you don't like it, don't read it.
Spoilers: Includes spoilers from books 1-4, and a wee few spoilers from book 5.
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I feel just like I'm sinking
and I claw for solid ground
I'm pulled down by the undertow
I never thought I could feel so low
oh darkness I feel like letting go
- Sarah McLachlan, Full of Grace
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Chapter 1: The TurningPrivet Drive was dark, lit only by a single flickering street lamp on the corner. The air was still, and an eerie quiet permeated the typically cheery neighborhood. Beneath the street lamp, Harry Potter leaned against the metal pole, his long, gangly legs curled up under him.
He sat, picking absentmindedly at the fraying edge of his worn jeans. Across the street, Harry saw a half-starved stray cat picking through garbage cans. The cat turned and stared at the raven-haired boy, and Harry was startled by how the cat's striking green eyes seemed to bore right through him.
For a moment, Harry maintained eye contact with the creature, not wanting to look away, before the cat finally broke the connection and scampered away.
Sighing, Harry stood up and straightened his oversized gray sweatshirt. I should be getting back, Harry thought to himself.
Not that anyone would even notice he had left. Ever since Harry had returned from Hogwarts, he had been even more invisible to the Dursleys than usual. Dudley was away at a summer boxing camp, and in his absence Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been spending a great deal of time out of the house. Harry suspected that this may have been intentional avoidance of him, but he had no way of knowing for certain since he had no plans to ask them any time soon.
Despite Harry's newly acquired freedom that came from being totally disregarded, he still found the atmosphere at the Dursley's to be oppressive. No matter what Harry did, he was haunted by his own thoughts.
Everything he saw reminded him of Sirius. The day before, he had gone out to collect the newspaper and spotted a Lost Dog poster. The crudely-drawn sketch of the missing animal had looked nothing like Snuffles, but Harry had still instantly thought of Sirius, and had experienced the feeling of being ducked in a bucket of ice water that always accompanied the thoughts. At night, Harry dreamt of his godfather. He woke up screaming, night after night, with visions of the veil taunting him.
And as if to make matters worse, Lord Voldemort was gaining power. Harry's scar burned day and night, resulting in a nearly constant headache. Harry had long given up attempting to eradicate the pain, but rather accepted it as a part of his daily life.
Taking one last look around, Harry headed back toward the house. Staring at his feet he didn't notice the figure that stepped into his path.
"What I'm wondering, is what a child such as yourself is doing out all alone at such a time of night." Startled by the sound of the strange voice piercing the nighttime silence, Harry looked up and caught sight of the intruder.
"Who are you?" Harry's voice nearly shook as he took in the stranger's appearance. The man was tall, nearly a head taller than Harry, which was quite a feat considering his recent growth spurt. He had long dark hair, tied back at the nape of his neck, with a few loose tendrils that framed an all too pale face. The man's black eyes bored into Harry's, causing the younger boy to look away.
"I am the bringer," he spoke softly, drawing Harry closer with the hypnotic power of his words. "I bring you a whole new world, in which night becomes day, and all your old worries will fade into nothingness."
Harry looked up into the man's piercing gaze. He did not realize how close they now were until he felt the other man's hand brush his cheek and twine itself in his hair.
Flinching slightly as the man lightly tugged his hair, he gave the man a bewildered look. "Why?" he questioned. "Why me?"
"Because you are special," the man responded as if the answer were obvious.
Harry shook his head. "I'm not special. I'm nobody."
The stranger smiled softly, but it was not a kind smile. It Harry's blood run cold and filled him with a sense of foreboding.
"You are special," the man insisted. "My dear, emerald-eyed boy, I could sense your power. Your potential."
Harry didn't understand. His potential? What did the man mean? However, he did not get the opportunity to ask any of the countless questions flooding his mind. As he started to speak the stranger leaned in and caught his mouth in a kiss. Harry jumped back in surprise, and attempted to break free, but was stopped by the larger man's firm grip on his lower back. It was not a gentle kiss, but rather one that consumed Harry. The older man bruised Harry's mouth with his own. Harry winced as he felt sharp teeth slice open his bottom lip and flood his mouth with the copper tang of his own blood.
Just when Harry thought that he would suffocate from lack of oxygen, the kiss was broken. The stranger tightened his grip on the Gryffindor and kissed his way down to his neck, where he began to suck on his pulse point while Harry helplessly struggled to regain his breath.
Suddenly, Harry felt something pierce his neck. He gasped, overcome with pain so terrible he was rendered immobile. Though he knew it would probably have been a futile effort, Harry could not seem to make his body cooperate with his brain, which was commanding him to flee. He felt his hands rest on the stranger's shoulders in submission as his blood was slowly drained from his body.
So this is it, Harry thought, weakly. This is how I'm going to die.
But then, the draining feeling stopped and the stranger took a step back. Harry's knees gave out and he would have collapsed to the ground if not for the other man's arm cradling him delicately. His eyes fluttered shut and he was resigning himself to death when he felt something pressed to his lips.
He faintly registered a voice commanding, "Drink, my boy. Drink." As if not of his own will, Harry latched his lips onto the slit wrist held to his mouth. He tasted the rich blood as it dripped onto his tongue and he felt the strength returning to his body. He reached his hands up and grabbed the other man's arm, pressing it harder against his mouth, trying to drain as much blood as possible.
Finally, the stranger roughly wrenched his arm away and laid Harry down on the pavement. Exhausted, Harry allowed his eyes to close and he was lost to the darkness.