A/N: I'd like to take a moment to thank you for stopping by on what is my first submission to the Harry Potter Fanfiction. I've read so many amazing stories here, and I've wanted to take a crack at it for a while. I hope this story lives up to the vision I have for it. I've been writing it like crazy, and I can't wait to get into the deeper parts. It's a long piece of Romance that I've always been interested in, especially for a Zombie Apocolypse type of thing. Once again, thanks! I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I sure as heck enjoy reading/writing about it!

Chapter One: Alone

Harry stretched his limbs on the small cot and reached for his glasses on the nightstand. Slowly, he rose from the warm blankets threatening to pull him back in and blinked bleary eyes at the broken clock on the wall. It was twelve pm, but that couldn't be right.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley would never let him sleep in, not in the whole fourteen years he lived under their roof. In fact, it was rare to get any sleep at all when they had him doing nearly everything around the house that he was capable of doing. He sighed and decided that if this was some sort of new punishment from them, there was no getting around it now.

Harry took his time in getting ready, pulling on a pair of faded black jeans that were nearly too short for him and a plain green t-shirt. He shook the sleep out of his hair and peeked out of his room.

The TV wasn't on downstairs, which meant that Dudley wasn't here. The smell of coffee brewing was in the air, but it was pungent like it had been on for too long. No-one but Harry was home. His heart, which had been pounding since he woke up, had slowed down considerably at this. Maybe they hadn't realized he was sleeping in because they weren't home?

The only question needing to be answered was where they were. As far as Harry knew, the Dursleys didn't go shopping but for late afternoon on the weekends. Both the kitchen and living room were empty.

'Maybe they decided to go out early?' Harry thought to himself.

He shrugged off the strange feeling he had and began to work on his morning chores. The coffee pot was hot as he turned it off and dumped it down the sink. There wasn't much to do around the house. Harry had just finished cleaning it seven hours before his slumber, and it looked as if no one had touched anything aside from a few overturned objects in random places.

He was glad there wasn't any school today, especially since the extra sleep he got was needed. His shoulders didn't feel as stiff, and he'd finally felt rested. Something was niggling at the back of his mind that had him wondering, however, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

It was two pm by the time Harry had the place as spotless as he could get it. The Dursleys were still gone, in fact, it seemed like the whole neighborhood was in a strange standstill. Usually, he could see a nose or two through the blinds of a few houses by now. Any glance he'd taken out the window revealed a ghost town.

He flipped on the television and sat on the couch, Dudley's favorite couch to be specific. It was plush and comfy, it's soft velvet-like material easy to slip lower in. He had never been this relaxed before, and he was going to soak it up as much as possible.

The channels didn't show much, it was still early in the afternoon. Harry nearly gave up looking when the news screen flashed at him with bright, bold letters.

"Government in a scramble as infection rates climb through the roof at alarming speeds. Everyone in the current vicinity of quarantined zones is urged to stay put and wait for further instruction."

Harry raised his brows. "Infection? What infection?"

"Uninfected individuals should stay indoors and take precautions to prevent infected from coming in. Behaviors have shown to be intense aggression, going so far as to attack until subdued. They've been linked to heavy drug-like symptoms, with the ability to withstand extreme amounts of pain without faltering."

"Bloody hell," Harry whispered as he saw various camera angles of bloody bodies lining the streets of downtown. Several of them were still moving as if they were alive through the copious amounts of entrails expelled from their bodies.

He turned off the TV quickly, his heart beating a million miles a second again, though this time in pure fear. Was the newscast real? Was it a possible promotion for a show of some sort? The shots on Surrey were too familiar to put that doubt in his mind, however.

He took a glance out the window, much more mindful this time, but it was still quiet. Maybe the infection hadn't gotten this far yet? The confusion he had was palpable, sweat forming on his brow near the scar Dudley always made fun of him for. Had they left without him?

Suddenly, the night before came back full force. The loud thumps and panicked whispers outside his door had woken him once or twice, but his groggy mind hadn't registered why it was there. A sobbing pushed through the forefront of his mind as the voices of Petunia and Vernon drifted underneath the crack.

"He's not right in the head! He's one of them Petunia, we need to leave!" Vernon's voice was shaky, barely recognizable.

"B-but, our Diddykins," Petunia's shrill whisper broke into more sobs, and Harry remembered shifting to get away from it, deciding he didn't care of hearing more about Dudley and his stupid perfect everything.

The thumps disappeared, and he slipped back into sleep. Harry jumped at the soft sound of the thumping coming back, his heart stopping cold. His eyes raised to the ceiling, where the noise crescendoed. He didn't want to do it, but his mind lacked better judgment at the moment, a morbid curiosity peaking.

There was a low groan as if someone were in pain. The stairs creaked as he trekked closer to the unsettling sounds. The bang on his cousin's door made him jump, nearly sending him back down the flight of stairs. Something told him not to open the door, a distinct voice in his head screaming to RUN.

"Dudley?"

The name was met with a thrashing against the door. Harry held his breath, waiting for the door to break underneath his cousin's massive weight. Then the thrashing stopped, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Splintered wood flew through the hallway in the next second as his fear became a reality. Right there in front of him laid his cousin, broken timber lodged through the side of his head from the door. Harry gave a horrified gasp, drawing the attention of Dudley, who barely resembled anything of his cousin, a greyish tint to his skin, ashen against the river of blood pouring from his eye where the wood was impaled.

"Shite!" Harry screamed, scrambling to get off the floor where Dudley was crawling, trying to grab him.

"Gerroff!" Harry shook the hand that grasped his pant leg off. He didn't waste any time, jumping up to race down the steps. Dudley was right behind him, sliding down the stairs on his stomach with his jaw clamping up and down.

Harry tripped underneath the body, tumbling down the rest of the stairs and landing on top of the other boy. He struggled to stand as hands pulled him, trying to bring him closer. He wasn't the strongest, especially against Dudley, which was proven nearly every day in the past.

Dudley and his friends would chase him, holding him down against their weight and do their worst. He'd come home bloodied some days, at the behest of his aunt and uncle, he'd tell other adults that he'd fallen out of another tree. Now, with his terror in the form of his cousin trying to bite at him, he tore from the grip and grabbed the shard of wood from his eye.

To his disgust, the eye followed the wood, but he paid no mind in bringing the shard back down, stopping his cousin's movements immediately. Harry hurried away from the body, his breath sharp and eyes wild. All at once, the act of what he'd done crashed down, and he retched all over his Aunt Petunia's favorite sham rug.

After the contents of his stomach were expelled, he'd sat back in horror. The news was right. Was he infected? Was he going to become one of those things? He didn't even want to know the answer. All he knew is that he had to clean the blood from his skin and quick.

Harry made quick work of the clothes which were splattered with various pieces of flesh and blood. He left them on the bathroom floor as he stepped into the scalding water of the shower. The excess carnage on his skin fled down the drain, and he stood there, wishing he'd wake up from this nightmare.

Where were his Aunt and Uncle? Surely they wouldn't just leave him here to die, even if they didn't like him all the much and reminded him of it through their lack of love that they instead showed Dudley. Maybe in their rush, they forgot he was there. He didn't try to kid himself on that notion though.

With a new brown long sleeve shirt and a pair of faded jeans, he carefully stepped over the still body at the bottom of the steps. He wasn't sure what to do next. The news told him to stay indoors, but he couldn't wait here, not with the body of Dudley slowly rotting away at the front door.

He needed to run. Anywhere but here.