A/N: This is the first installment, of the re-writing of "Harry Potter and a new love." I think I kind of like this version, but I need feedback. Also, the second chapter that I'll post in about a day...well I don't know if I like that chapter yet...I mean it's longer than the original...but still. I'll post it soon and let you guys take a look at it. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 1

"Blame"

Harry couldn't believe it. The summer had gone by so fast. At the beginning he knew for sure he wasn't going back to the Dursley's house. He couldn't! They were absolutely awful to him. Although he didn't know where to stay. The answer came to him a few short days after term of last year ended. The order found Sirius' will in the attic. It read:

"To whom it may concern,

To my Godson Harry Potter

I leave my house in its entirety and

What is left in my vault.

Everything I owned is now his."

-Sirius

So Harry moved in to the house straight away. He was glad that he had a new place to live, especially since the order cleaned it the summer before, but it seemed especially empty using it this time around. Nothing, not even the house could fill the void Sirius left when he died. So most of the order that could, moved in.

Harry was grateful to them all but most thankful that the Weasley family left their home for a temporary stay at what was now Harry's manor. Harry of course let it stay base of operations to the order, for he nor Sirius wouldn't have it any other way.

A few nights before term would start for the 6th year in Harry's life. Harry sat awake just thinking. It was Sirius. The same thing kept running through his head.

"It's your own fault he's dead and you know it." Said a nasty little voice inside him. If you hadn't pulled that stupid stunt last year, Sirius would be in this house with you.

The others told him to not blame himself or that it wasn't his fault. Harry knew that those were the lies of the people he loves trying to console him. Insanity swelled at every corner in every memory. Haunted every shadow of the house...every thought in his head.

"Yes. Poor Harry." The voice chided, "Always about you. Always about how you're suffering. Think about Sirius you fool. Think of what you've done to him."

That's exactly what he did. He didn't want to think on it, but the voice was right. However mean and nasty it sounded or was being...the voice was oh so inevitably right.

Harry groaned into his pillow. He didn't need this. Those strained voices that were always telling him that it wasn't his fault. Those voices that were the Order, his family and friends...their words translated into exactly what the voice was saying to him. He didn't need to hear it from them, and he most certainly didn't need to be reminded by himself. He already felt he was going insane. Not with guilt, but with a new kind of emotion that started just before the end of term last year.

Slowly...almost reluctantly, Harry got out of bed and crossed the cold wooden floors to the end of the bed where his trunk sat. He unlocked it carefully, as if it were ancient enough to break, when in truth it was as good as new. He lifted the top and stared down at the contents before him. A few spell books here, a pile of robes there. Then that special something, hidden just beneath. With letting go of a breath he had no recollection of holding, he picked open the fake-bottom of the trunk and pulled out his photo album. The thing that Hagrid had given him the last term of first year. It was filled with pictures from his past, and he had slowly been putting peices of his present in it. Pictures of friends, pictures of teachers and of special visitors, of creatures and various other things he'd deemed fitting to put in it.

In his bed now, Harry curled his feet in together, to add to the warmth they needed. The floor had been cold, and he wasn't wearing any socks. They felt frost-bitten, numb. Harry wished he could feel just like that. Numb. Better to be numb than to feel anything. Unfortunately, he wasn't graced with such power. He wasn't graced with such fortune. He didn't want to turn the last few pages. He knew what he would find after those aging pictures of Sirius he had collected from around the house. Still, not caring about his inner torture, he turned the page.

Emotions flitted across his face. He had to practice at that. He had to practice getting things so that his face didn't show emotion. So that people couldn't use it as his weakness or even exploit it to know what he was feeling. These days, he wasn't sure what he was feeling. He wasn't sure if he liked it, or if it was real. All he knew is that when he stared at this photograph, there was something there other than the usual hatred. That hatred, that had once been so casual, wasn't so clear there anymore when he looked into those cold Malfoy eyes. Oh it was still there, don't get Harry wrong...but lately...suddenly he wasn't quite sure if that was the only thing he felt.

He almost hated the photo. Harry almost took the image to be bad because the moonlight that lit the picture wasn't really enough light, but no that wasn't it. It didn't give Malfoy any justice at all. It made him look...ordinary. Well the picture itself wasn't ordinary. For one Drac--Malfoy was smiling. At the time Harry had disguised himself as Blaise Zabini. He didn't know what had driven him to take this particular photo...but he did. You see something happened that day that made Harry angry. Angry to the point where he'd use the last bit of polyjuice potion he had, just to extract revenge on Malfoy anyway he could.

"Admit it Potter. You fucked up. You went in and killed him. Poor Cedric. Had to see your ugly face the last of his dying moments. Sure you may spread these lies about him being killed by You-Know-Who"

"Shut up." Harry replied quietly.

"But we all know it was you."

"Shut. Up." Harry said a little more sharply.

"You LET him die. Probably stood there laughing in his face as You-Know-Who did it."

"I'm warning you. Shut. Up." Harry wasn't moving from the ground. He'd fallen at the first of Malfoy's insults. He was on all fours, looking down at the dirt and grass that covered the exit to the quiditch pitch. He could feel the anger boil through him, solid almost like steal. All the while, Malfoy just stood above him, taunting him. Right after he'd dealt with the fake moody and everything. Here he was.

"All these people, hell even yourself, think that you are some noble hero. But I know what you are Potter. You're a fake. You're not a savior, a god, or a hero. No you're--"

Malfoy gasped and his eyes went wide, his cheeks puffing out to make him look like a blow fish, as Harry's fist came crashing in his stomach.

Harry stood there shocked for a moment. Not by his actions, but why he wasn't moving as Malfoy regained composure. Malfoy tripped Harry with his long legs. Harry just took it, and fell again on the ground.

"See Potter? If you can't stand up against me, then what makes you think you can save this world?"

Harry didn't respond. Only lay there, unblinking, listening.

In disgust Malfoy threw his foot out and kicked Harry's side. He didn't even flinch. "You're not worth anything Potter. You pile of shit." With one last kick, Malfoy went off to the Castle grounds and re-entered, with the intent of going to his dorm.

Harry didn't move. Couldn't. He had just let Malfoy do that to him. Just let him push him around, kick and degrade him. The sun was going down. Harry just let everything sink in. By the time he had let everything sink in, he felt all sorts of emotion, but clearer than all the rest was: rage.

With fierce and quiet anger, Harry slowly got up off the ground and being seemingly calm on the outside he walked to the castle and into his dorm. Never changing his pace, never once looking anywhere but forward.

Finally after what seemed an eternity, he reached the Gryffindor Tower. After getting the polyjuice potion he had saved, he marched back out of the room without a word to anyone, and went to the dining hall. The Slytherins always stayed later than all the other houses, just to be annoying. Malfoy never did though. It was "beyond a Malfoy to sink so low for something that pitiful".

He stopped in the shadows of a corner after entering the hall. He scanned the table and quickly found none other than Blaise Zabini. Malfoy would trust him, he was sure of it. For a moment, he doubted his actions, but just thinking back to what Malfoy did made him more sure than ever that he wanted to do this. He closed his eyes picturing a strand of hair on Zabini's head and then whispered: "Accio Hair"

He really didn't expect much result, but after a few seconds, Harry heard a slight scream, and knew he had succeeded. He waited and finally after he blinked, he realized that a strand of hair sat neatly in front of him, waiting for him to take it. With a happy smirk, he plucked the hair out of the air, and then headed out of the doors again.

He went into an unused lavatory and did the transformation in a stall. Goodness gracious, it took a second, but once it was complete he had to stop for a second. Ashamed that he would even think of such a thing, Harry slightly undid the top of his pants and stared at Zabini's length. God, the guy has nothing to worry about in that department. Not quite knowing for sure why he had just done that, Harry walked out of the bathroom, pausing only to check his reflection in a nearby mirror.

Once in the corridor to the Slytherin Common room, he stopped, and dumbly remembered that he didn't know the password. He waited, leaning against a wall with one leg propped up, for someone to come and open the damn door. Luckily, when he looked up from his shoelaces, none other than Draco Malfoy stood at the door, about to mutter the password. He smelled vaguley of something Harry couldn't quite place, but at the moment he didn't care.

"Mal-Draco! Hey, dude!" Harry called out, knowing he was on dangerous territory.

"Hello Zabini. What is it I can do for you?" He asked, then smirked.

"Well, nothing really I was just about to head in when you came around."

"Oh good." Draco said, then paused, "Snuffleports Hogwarts."

For a moment, Harry stood there, blankly taking in the password. What the hell kind of password was that? It certainly wouldn't be one someone would guess the Slytherins would use...but..it was just so...childish. He had to fight really hard to contain laughter. This was turning out better than planned.

"Come on, Zabini. Or do you want to stand there looking like an idiot all day? Of course I guess you can't help it."

"Hey!" Harry said indignantly, then remebered that for Draco, this was playful banter.

"Yeah, well if I were you, I wouldn't talk. You think you're so smart, but I think you talk big to make up for smaller things." Harry said, mentioning Malfoy in a way he never thought about.

In a flash Malfoy was up against Harry/Zabini and pinning him against the wall with his body. Harry breathed hard, and arched his neck to give their faces a few more inches clear from eachother.

"And how would you know that Zabini?" Malfoy asked in an implying tone, and his breath that smelled vaguely of mints and vanilla and...nicotine, ghosted over Harry's skin, tickling him.

"I...I...I..." No words could form on Harry's lips as he stared into Grey eyes.

Malfoy backed away and then looked at Harry/Zabini for half a second before busting up laughing, and then smiled a real genuine smile. "God, I really had you there, didn't I?"

Harry was so stunned. Not only by what had just happened, but by the sheer beauty of his smile. It was all he could do, but to just stand there. Suddenly, he took a picture with a flash, and then just like the flash that emitted the camera, Harry was gone.

In the moonlight, Harry just shrugged at the memory. So he took a picture of Malfoy. He could use it for later as dart practice. So he thought Malfoy had some beauty. Almost everyone did. So he never stopped looking at it every night since then...

Sighing, he laid his head back against the bed frame and stared out into the cold night. He hoped, he trully hoped, that everynight would NOT be like tonight. It was futile really...to believe that his nights would change. They did once. From being as happy as they could be, to being as lonely and sleep-depraved as ever. What was it when someone wouldn't go to bed at night...couldn't?

Harry fought hard to remember what it was called. He couldn't. When he closed his eyes, there was nothing but the mental images of at first Sirius, and lately, Malfoy.

"You're so Pathetic. You caused your godfather's death and you can't even think of only him. You have to start thinking about some boy. How dare you--"

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD" Harry screamed to himself and through the photo album carelessly across the room. He'd been in the habit of putting a silencing charm on the room every night along with a locking charm, so he wasn't worried about anyone waking up or coming to check on him.

He quickly regretted chucking the book across the room and now went over to survey the damage. There were a few ripped pages. In the heat of the moment, he almost started to cry, then he felt stupid as he whispered: "Reparo". It was almost as if he forgot he could do magic.

As quietly as ever, Harry restored the book to it's rightful place and then got back into bed, having cold feet again. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. He could pretend, for now, around his friends that everything was alright. That things were going to be ok. But he knew they weren't going to be.

Ron and Hermione were so involved in eachother all the time. Like Harry was never there. Like he didn't matter. It was alright. At first it was annoying. Now, though he had grown to a certain appreciation of that. It gave him the time to think. Time much needed.

These days were getting colder, and he couldn't make sense of his thoughts anymore. He didn't like his life anymore. Not that it was ever something to be admired, but at least before, it was a semblence to happiness. A happy medium with a Status Quo.

Somehow though, he knew he deserved better. He knew he wanted more. He knew that there was something missing from himself, and that there was something he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He didn't quite know what it was yet. Or maybe he did, but it was something that he wasn't quite sure he was ready for. It was coming regardless.

It kind of reminded Harry of the kid-game phrase: "Ready or not, Here I come."

He'd had enough of the worry. Enough of the pain. He dealt with it every waking moment, and even though he hid it well from everyone, he could never hide the feelings from himself. He'd gone into town one day through the floo system, while the rest of the order was away. Cloaked with his father's invisibility cloak, he went into an apothecary and stole about a case-full of sleeping draught. He would take the potion every night, and every morning he'd wake up to a headache. He didn't care though. He'd just take some magical pain-killers and it would immediately take affect on the ache.

Too bad no one ever thought to make Emotional Pain-Killers. You'd think that with all this magic, someone would have. Or would that be considered "dark magic" to those stupid Ministry authorities? Either way, he'd never heard of it, and if he had then you had better bet your life that he would have paid anything to get it.

He creaked open a loose floor board and pulled out the sleeping draught. Replacing the wooden plank he thought "All this hiding. Always so secretive." It was true. The photo Album, the potion...his identity.

Harry snorted and raised the bottle in mock-toast to the air, and then threw it all back. Downed in one gulp, Harry was alseep before he could say "Goodnight."

Groan. Sigh. Those sounds wouldn't be heard as Harry woke from his potion-induced sleep...he forgot to take the Silence charm and locking charm off the room. He really hoped no one had tried to wake him, because that would have been a disaster.

Stopping in the middle of climbing out of bed, Harry realized it was still night time. Quickly, he transfigured the nearest lamp into a clock. The time read to be 11:45 PM.

The potions must not have been as strong as when he first bought them. They would after all start to deteriorate in potentcy after a few weeks. He'd have to look into strenghtening measures later. But for now, he took off the charms and was about to reach for another sleeping draught, when all the sudden he heard talking noises from one of the lower rooms.

He hadn't really expected anyone to stay up this late. He knew that the Weasely's were gone, and Arthur came to check on the house every once in a while. The only other people staying here, were mad-eye and tonks at the moment, as the rest were too busy with important things.

Grabbing his wand, Harry walked out of the room and quietly, as to not wake that damned portrait of Sirius' mother and also to have the element of suprise, he crept down towards the voices.

"...don't know what's wrong. He's gotten distant I think. I'm not sure if it's us...but I'm worried."

"Don't worry Ginny," Hermione's voice clearly soothing a worried Ginny. "He'll be alright. After all his only real link to his parents died, and the guilt he must be laying on himself is too horrible to imagine."

Harry creaked the door open a bit and cracked a slight smile. Although she had just been talking about him, he still appreciated her presence. She had always been there for him. Even in his tightest of spots and problems, she was there to save the day. He relied on her alot. Now, he was hoping that maybe, this time too, she would be the one to help solve his problems.

"I'm so famous. It's hard to keep track these days." Harry stated.

Hermione whipped around fast as a lightning bolt, and ran over to him. Without even batting an eye, Hermione hugged Harry fully and thoroughly.

"Hermione, Ginny, I didn't know either of you were going to be here." He said into the room, now also peering at Ginny's form. Nothing.

"Sorry Harry." Hermione apologized, almost as if on reflex. "We hope you don't mind, but both of us were sent here to keep you company for the next few days as we prepare for the new school year."

"It's alright 'Mione," he said, using her nickname for good measure. "But you're a bit late if you expect to go shopping in Diagon Alley for books and robes. I've already gathered mine."

If Hermione was suspicious of anything, she didn't show it. Practiced Controll. "That's alright. We've already got our things as well."

Harry should have known. He grinned at the familiar antics. This was what he needed. Not confusing, not depressing...familiar, and warm.

"Oh god Hermione." he said, letting the emotions he was feeling over-whelm him. "I'm so glad guys are here."

"Harry..." Hermione said, not knowing really what to say. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Harry sighed, at his sillyness. "You know, I'm really thirsty. You guys wanna come with me to the kitchen?"

"Sure" The girls replied in unison.

Harry replied with a smile. "Good. Come on."

The trio headed down the stairs, only to be stopped by the sound of tired and strained voices coming from the kitchen, drifting to the stairwell.

"...wasn't his fault Kingsley. He didn't know...couldn't possibly have known! He was set up by You-know-who and that's all there is to it. We've been through this before."

"Yes Weasley. I'm just saying, that if he would have maybe stayed cool and alerted members of the Order to check it out, then we wouldn't be having this disscussion and Sirius would be standing here, making low growls and grumbling at the early hour."

Ginny and Hermione stood stock still even as the turned their heads slightly to gauge Harry's reaction. Harry must have been getting better at the whole emotion thing, because not one showed on his face. That was exactly why the girls would never have guessed that a moment later, he would bolt up the stairs and lock the door magically, with all the spells he could think of.

After doing so, Harry threw himself against the door and slid down it, tears gathering around his tired eyes. He couldn't do this...couldn't stay here any longer. Soon, in a daze, he was packing everything he owned into that school trunk and he was just getting done tying it to his broom and putting a feather weight charm on it when Hermione was suddenly at the door.

"Harry. Come on. What is going on?" Hermione tried.

"Go the fuck away."

"Harry--" After a sigh and brief rustle, Hermione had took out her wand and unlocked the door easily. "Harry please--"

"YOU BELIEVE IT TOO! COME ON JUST FUCKING SAY IT! YOU THINK IT WAS MY FAULT SIRIUS DIED!"

"No I--"

"I'M LEAVING. MOVE."

Hermione barely had time to leap out of the way of his struggling, crying form bursting out the door with his broom. She quickly ran to a broom closet, unbeknowest to Harry and watched him closely as he left.

Harry startled Kingsley and Arthur, as he burst down the stairs and through the door, not once stopping his painful stride, not even for the callings of the two men for him to come back.

A/N: Well...what do you think? Like this version better or not? Let me know. I'll be sure to post the next chapter ASAP. Thanks for your support guys.

love you all,

-Dark