Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.

Chapter Two

He didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the bed, or the way the room felt horribly small and claustrophobic, or the fact he could hear every creak the house made, but Harry couldn't sleep. He lay uncomfortably in bed, one that was perfectly adequate for a ten year old boy, feeling that he may fall out if he rolled over. His gaze darted over the darkened ceiling, trying to make out the corners of the room, in an effort to convince himself the room wasn't too small for him.

He knew he was being silly. The bed and the room and everything in it was fine. It was only because he had grown up sleeping in a bed four sizes too big and had a room the size of the whole of Godric's Hollow put together, that he was feeling uncomfortable like this. He shifted awkwardly on the bed, carefully manoeuvring himself to lie on his front, the usual position he slept in. He lay with his eyes open, his ears strained to pick up all the strange sounds the house made in the night.

He was glad when the first morning rays flitted into his room, peeking in from the gap in the curtains. He pulled himself up and was already clicking his fingers, for the house elves to appear and take his breakfast menu, before he fully realised it. He cringed as his loud snap rang in the quiet room. He waited, just in case his parents really did had house elves. But no one arrived at his feet, bowing so low, their heads touched the floor. No one arrived to ask what the Dark Prince wanted for his breakfast today. No one disappeared with a pop, wringing their ears with nervousness to get the child's meal exactly as he wanted it.

Harry stayed sitting at the edge of his bed, staring ahead at nothing, just listening to the silence of the sleeping house. He looked to the clock on the wall to see it was five in the morning. His heart lurched. If he was still home, he would be up, starting his training. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. 'Not home, it's not your home. This is your home!' he reminded himself.

He rubbed at his eyes and got up. Barefoot, he padded across to the door and slowly creaked it open. The house was quiet, the rest of it's occupants still asleep. Harry slid out of the room and looked around. He remembered this house, 'no, not this actual house' he corrected himself, the fake one Voldemort had fooled him into believing was Godric's Hollow. From memory, he knew the bathroom was two doors down. He crept quietly to it, to wash up.

It was only when he was standing before the mirror in the bathroom that he realised, he didn't even have a toothbrush here. He had left it in Riddle manor. Everything he had, he had left behind; his clothes, his shoes, his wand, his weapons, his books, the chess set he used to play with Draco, damn, even Draco he had left. He had walked away from it all, in one night; Draco, Lucius, Bella and...Harry paused, his heart skipped a beat at the mere memory of his once father, Lord Voldemort.

Harry closed his eyes and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. What would Voldemort do when he woke up today to see Harry was gone? Around six is when Voldemort usually joined Harry for breakfast every morning. In an hour's time, he would realise Harry had left him.

He looked up at the mirror and brushed aside his hair, to reveal the lighting bolt shaped scar. How mad would Lord Voldemort be? What would he do? Harry roughly pushed his hair so his bangs hid the scar. He wouldn't think about it. Not until he had to think about it. He knew his scar was going to hurt, even though he was far away from Voldemort. He knew the Dark Lord's anger at his disappearance would be of the extent that his scar would act up. But there was nothing he could do about it, so what was the point of worrying?

After washing up the best he could, Harry went back to his room, closing the door firmly behind him. He got changed out of Damien's resized pyjamas. He felt marginally better, being in his own clothes. He opted to sit by the window, to admire what little was there to see. He stared at the frost-covered streets, completely deserted, save for the odd cat wandering around the gardens. Remnants of snow lay, crusted on the sides of pavements.

He watched the birds as they fluttered from tree to tree, twittering and chirping. He rested his head against the glass of the cold window and just sat, staring at nothing, trying his best not to think about anything. He closed his eyes.

That's when he felt his scar begin to prickle. His eyes flew open and his heart gave a little flip as he realised, at this very moment, Voldemort was looking for him in Riddle manor. He sat up, his hand pressed into his scar, the other gripped the window ledge. Slowly the ache started, escalating to a fierce burning. Harry clenched his teeth together, as a groan fought past his lips. His scar used to hurt like this when he was near Voldemort. Harry didn't expect it to hurt this much when he was so far away from him. His eyes shut as he focused on not making a sound, he didn't want to wake up his sleeping parents, or his baby brother. With every passing moment, the pain in his scar got worse, burning hotter and aching so fiercely, it turned his stomach. It was just as well he hadn't ate anything since yesterday. Harry bit his lip, moaning as the pain reached to an unbearable level. His grip on the window ledge was beginning to hurt his hand.

Unable to take it anymore, Harry staggered away from the window, gasping at the blinding pain. He moved towards the bed and fell onto it. His groans were becoming louder as the pain continued to intensify. With his eyes still shut tight, he reached out to feel for his pillow. He grabbed it and bit into it, muffling his cries of agony. He lay still, working his frantic breaths around his groans. The pain never dulled. It didn't go away. It got worse and worse until finally, Harry passed out.

xxx

The knock on the door was what woke Harry up. He jolted upwards, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Wide-eyed, his gaze darted to all corners of the room, before he remembered where he was. He made to sit up when the pain in his scar quickly reminded him why he was sprawled out on the bed, face down, drenched in sweat, with his clothes and shoes on. He winced and moved slowly, his hand came up to touch his forehead. The scar felt hot under his fingers.

The knock sounded again and this time, a soft voice called from behind the door.

"Harry? Are you awake?"

It was Lily.

Harry scrambled to sit up, cursing under his breath.

"Uh, just...just give me a minute!" he called out, getting to his feet and wincing as his scar still throbbed in pain.

He grabbed the bed cover and wiped his sweat soaked face clean, erasing all signs of his agony. He made sure his damp bangs hid his raw looking scar from view before walking to the door. He opened it to find Lily, waiting patiently. She smiled at him, so brightly, it almost made Harry smile.

"Morning." she greeted.

"Yeah, um, morning." Harry replied.

"You got changed," Lily nodded, "look at that, your dad and brother are still snoring in their beds, and here's you, all washed up and dressed."

Harry smiled then and Lily almost stopped breathing at the sight.

"I was up, so I figured I should, get dressed." Harry mumbled, giving a one shouldered shrug.

"Breakfast will be ready soon." Lily said, unnecessarily pointing to the stairs, below which was the kitchen. "I only came to see if you were awake." she smiled at him, again. "You...you want to come downstairs?"

Harry stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He walked alongside Lily, down the stairs and into the hallway.

"How did you sleep?" Lily asked.

"Fine." came his automatic response.

Lily nodded.

"I know it must seem...strange, waking up in a different room."

Harry didn't reply and an awkward silence fell between them.

"I woke up this morning, terrified yesterday was only a dream." Lily confessed in a quiet voice. "That's why I came at your door, I wanted to check you were really here. I didn't want to walk in and find an empty bed." her hand came to wrap softly around his, making the boy look up at her, "I still can't believe you're back."

Harry didn't know what to do or say. He looked away, his hand tensed in hers but she didn't let go.

"Anything particular you'd like for breakfast?" Lily asked, leading the boy towards the first door on the right.

Harry only shook his head, horribly uncomfortable for a reason he couldn't fully understand.

Lily pushed open the door to the kitchen and stepped inside. She only made it past the threshold when she felt a pull at her arm and suddenly, she lost contact with her son's hand. She turned to look at Harry, to see he had come to a stop, standing at the threshold, his eyes wide as he stared at the kitchen.

Lily frowned.

"Harry?" she asked, gently, "what is it?"

Harry shook his head, with great effort.

"Nothing." he managed in a quiet whisper.

He forced himself to walk inside, to cross over the threshold. His hands curled into fists and he cursed inwardly. 'Damn it, Harry! Stop it! It didn't happen here! Stop freaking out!'

He walked past the door and came further into the kitchen. He looked around the room, his stomach turning as everything, every corner, every possible thing, down to the smallest detail, was exactly the same as he remembered it. There was the same wooden table that his parents used to sit at, the same gleaming worktops and cupboards, the same tiled floor and the very same cooker, sitting at the side.

Harry stared at it, his gaze focused on the oven door and slowly, the screams started, echoing in his head. His own screams, pleading, begging his dad for mercy. He could almost smell the horrid stench of his burnt flesh and it made his insides twist and stomach roll. From all the hellish memories he had, this one was his worst and it was slowly coming alive, in front of his eyes.

"Harry? Harry? What...what's wrong?" Lily was beside him, confused at her son's strange reaction. He was just standing there, staring at something, his breathing getting heavier and heavier, the colour draining from his face. "Harry? Harry?"

Suddenly, Harry snapped out of his daze. Fearful eyes met Lily's worried ones. He pulled his arm out of her grip and shook his head, stepping backwards.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, "I can't do this. I'm...I'm sorry."

"Harry?" Lily started but the boy turned and fled from the kitchen. "Harry! Harry!"

She ran after him, in time to see him reach the front door, pull it open and dart outside.

"Harry!"

She raced out the front door and down the icy path, but by the time she got to her front gate, Harry was gone.

xxx

Lily ran down the street, still in her nightdress, but she didn't care. All she could think about was Harry and finding him. She searched the block, ran all the way up to the small park, six streets away, but there was no sign of him. Besides herself with panic, Lily ran back to the house, screaming James' name as soon as she entered.

Her husband came running down the stairs, his hair sticking up at all angles and sleep still lingering in his hazel eyes.

"James! He's gone! Harry's gone!" Lily sobbed.

All traces of sleep vanished from James and he darted down the remaining steps.

"What happened?!" he demanded.

"I don't know!" Lily wept, "He was...we...we were talking and...and he was fine...until we went into the kitchen and he...he just...it was like...like something spooked him...he just...he got scared, James, he got really scared...!" Lily grabbed at James' clothes, hysterical with panic, "...he...he just ran...he said he was sorry...that he couldn't do this and...and he left...he ran and by the time I got to the gate...he was gone...he's gone!"

James grabbed Lily by the shoulders, trying to calm her.

"It's okay, Lily, just...please just...calm down," he urged. "You stay here with Damy, I'll go out and look for him. He can't have gone far."

"I looked!" Lily cried, "I looked for him, he's not here!"

"He's ten," James reminded, "it's not like he can apparate. He'll be around here, somewhere. He just got scared or...or...overwhelmed or...something," his heart clenched at the thought of his son being upset in his own home, with his parents, but he pushed that to the back of his mind. He couldn't think about that right now. "You stay here and remain calm. You don't want Damy seeing you like this."

That did it for Lily. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, spilling more tears down her cheeks, but she was fighting to be calm. James turned and darted upstairs to grab his shoes and cloak. In almost no time, he was racing back downstairs. He opened the door, gave Lily one last encouraging nod and he set off, darting down the street, to look for their son.

Lily turned and ran up the stairs, heading straight to Damien's room. She walked in, grabbed the nightgown hanging behind the door and hurried over to her still sleeping seven year old and knelt next to his bed.

"Damy, Damy, honey wake up." she said, gently shaking him awake.

The child moaned sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.

"Mum?" he murmured.

"Hey, Damy, what do you say, we go to Ron's for breakfast? Would you like that?" Lily asked, as calmly as she could. Her voice still shook but Damien was far too young and sleepy to notice.

He sat up in bed, still rubbing his eyes and yawned.

"Ron's?" he asked.

"Yeah, come on. Let's go, it'll be fun."

Lily picked up the boy, hastily wrapping his still bed-warm body in the nightgown and grabbed his slippers in one hand. She hurried to the floo, awkwardly threw in a fistful of floo powder, and called out to the Burrow.

xxx

Lily met James, four streets down from Godric's Hollow. Their eyes met from adjacent streets and both hurried to cross the road and reach each other.

"Anything?" Lily asked anxiously.

"No," James replied, heavily, his breath misting in he air, "what are you doing here? Where's Damy?"

"I left him with Molly." Lily replied, "I couldn't just sit at home, I had to come out and look for Harry." she explained.

James squinted in the bright morning sunlight, his gaze searching the streets.

"I don't get it," he said, "where could he go?"

"You don't...you don't think he...he wouldn't go..." Lily struggled to voice her fear, but James didn't need to hear her say it, he knew what she was thinking.

"He wouldn't go back to him." James said, with such conviction, it calmed Lily at once. "let's keep looking. He has to be here." James set off down the street, Lily by his side. "If we can't find him, we'll go back and firecall Remus and Sirius, contact Dumbledore," James was fighting to stay positive, to not give in, to have a plan. "It'll be okay, we'll find Harry. We'll find him."

Lily nodded and hurried down the road, her gaze darting every which way.

xxx

It took them more than an hour to finally admit Harry was nowhere to be found and they returned to Godric's Hollow. Both James and Lily walked back in silence, defeated and heart broken, trembling in a mixture of nerves and December's chill. Neither of them had the courage to offer each other support, or even empty promises. They reached the gate and pushed it open.

Sitting on the front steps was the boy they had been desperately searching for. Harry sat in front of the door, with his head bowed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped, looking just as tired and defeated as his parents.

James and Lily stopped in their tracks, blinking in stunned surprise. Harry looked up at them, but he didn't say a word. He dropped his gaze to his own hands, seemingly unable to look them in the eye.

Lily ran and dropped to her knees in front of him. Her arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Oh, thank God!" she whispered into Harry's neck, "thank God, you're okay." she let go and pulled back to stare at him, both hands cupped his cheeks. "Don't ever do that to me again." she said, her voice so broken, the demand sounded like a desperate plea.

Harry only nodded, his eyes downcast, refusing to meet her watery green eyes.

James walked over and was kneeling before him as well. His concerned hazel stare made Harry look up at him.

"You alright, son?" James asked quietly.

Harry nodded and dropped his eyes to the ground again.

James and Lily shared a troubled look.

"You're freezing," Lily said, rubbing her hands up and down Harry's arms, "come on, let's go inside."

Harry closed his eyes, as if steeling himself for something deeply unpleasant, before tiredly getting to his feet. Lily and James led him inside heading for the living room, but Harry stopped in the hallway, refusing to take a further step.

"Harry?" James turned to him, "what's wrong?"

But Harry shook his head.

"Nothing," he spoke to James but still wasn't looking at him. His gaze was fixed on his right shoulder. "I'm just...I'm not hungry." he looked behind him at the stairs, "I'm...I'm going to go to my room."

He turned and started climbing the stairs. Lily made a move towards him, but James held onto her hand, stopping her.

"Go get, Damy," he whispered, "I'll talk to Harry."

"But..."

"It's alright, I got this." James gently nudged her towards the living room, so she could use the floo. "You go and get Damy."

Lily reluctantly moved into the living room and James walked up the stairs. He stood before Harry's closed door and took a moment to calm himself. He knocked, waited a few seconds and opened the door. Harry was sitting on the bed, looking lost and dejected. The sight made James' heart clench painfully. He walked in and came to sit next to him.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" he asked. "Why you ran out?"

Harry shook his head, his eyes closed again and James could see the muscle twitch in his clenched jaw. He reached out, his arm slowly draped around the boy's shoulders but all it did was tense Harry further.

"I understand," James said softly, "taking all this in, coming back, it must be overwhelming." his hand moved over to Harry's back, "It's okay, Harry." He started rubbing soothing circles across his back. "I know what you're going through..."

Harry flinched, jerking away from James' touch.

"No, you don't." he said quietly, a hiss underlining his words.

James went quiet, stunned by his ten year old's sudden coldness. He disregarded it, pushed it away, far back in his mind, to analyse another time.

"You're right, I don't know." he said, "I can only imagine, and that doesn't even come close to what you're going through." he watched as Harry relaxed a little, his shoulders eased as some of the tension ebbed away. "But it will get easier, I promise. It'll all get easier." his hand closed over Harry's. "We're here, your mum and me. We're with you and we'll never leave you alone again. We just have to take it slowly, take it one step at a time, one day at a time."

Harry looked around at him then, his green eyes, so much like Lily's, locked with James.

"I know," he said quietly, "it's just...it...it got a little...too much..."

"I understand," James nodded quickly, "you'll have to forgive us, Harry, if your mum and I come on a little too strong," he smiled wistfully, "getting you back is like having all our dreams and wishes come true. It might make us a little..." he searched for the right word, "...over excited. If you find it too much, just tell us to back off, but please, don't ever run out like that again."

Harry shook his head.

"I won't," he said quietly, "sorry." he added at the end hastily.

James smiled and reached up to run a hand through the boy's messy locks.

"Don't apologise," he said, "you know, when I was your age, I would have a falling out with my parents, I used to hide in this very good spot, round the back of the house. I'll show it to you later. If you need time to yourself, you can go there."

Harry looked up at James, first with surprise and then confusion.

"You...you grew up here?" he asked.

"Yeah, this was my parents' home," James told him happily. "Your grandparents' home." he corrected. "It's been in the Potter family for generations."

Harry looked away again and nodded. James noted he didn't look particularly thrilled at the news. If anything he looked dejected.

The sound of the floo going off downstairs reached the room, before footsteps echoed up the stairs. Sure enough, the door to Harry's room opened and Damien came running inside.

"Dad! Dad! Look what Ron gave me!" he ran over excitedly, waving a blue and gold card in the air.

"A Chocolate Frog card." James faked the enthusiasm, "wow, Damy, that's cool! Who'd you get?"

"Nicky Flames!" the boy announced.

James chuckled. Next to him, Harry turned to look at the young boy with a frown.

"You mean, Nicholas Flamel?" Harry corrected.

Damien looked at the card in his hand and back up at Harry.

"Ron said his name was Nicky."

Harry smiled, his eyes brightening to their usual emerald green. A hint of mischief lit them.

"Then Ron's an idiot."

Damien's mouth dropped open and eyes went wide.

"Uh-oh! You said a bad word." Damien pointed a finger at him.

"No, I didn't." Harry frowned.

"Yes, you did," Damien nodded, "mum says that word is a bad word."

Harry turned his head to look at James, who was smiling widely at the two boys. He winked at Harry.

"I didn't hear you say anything," he whispered, "your mum, though, has much better hearing."

Harry looked like he didn't know how to react but his brother quickly drew his attention.

"Do you have Chocolate Frog cards?"

"Chocolate Frogs?" Harry asked, as if he had never heard of them, "erm, no, I don't."

Damien looked disappointed. He turned and ran out the door. Harry could hear the door to the next room opening and rustling of drawers opening and closing. In no time at all, Damien came running back inside, a pack of cards in his hands. He thrust them into Harry's lap.

"I have lots," he said, "Ron gave me a few and Neville gave me two but I got the rest myself."

Harry looked through the pack of twenty something cards, each depicting a famous witch or wizard.

"That's...cool."

Harry handed the pack back and Damien took it proudly. Something flickered over the young child's face and he fingered the cards thoughtfully. He looked at Harry and back at his cards. He picked one and held it out to him.

"You can have one, if you want."

Harry looked surprised. He eyed the card.

"What for?" he asked.

"You collect them." Damien said, like it was the simplest thing in the world, "everyone collects them."

Harry shook his head.

"I don't want it."

Damien pulled back his hand but he still held the card in one hand, the rest in the other. Harry felt James put a hand on his shoulder.

"I think Damien wants you to start a collection too." he said quietly, smiling.

Harry looked back at the card and then the seven year old boy. He held out his hand.

"Go on then, if it makes you happy." he sighed.

Damien handed him the card with a grin.

"We'll have race, see who gets the most cards!"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Can't I just say you won?"

Damien shook his head.

"That would be cheating."

"How is that cheating?" Harry asked.

"It just is." Damien insisted.

Harry opened his mouth to argue when his door opened again, this time it was Lily, holding a big tray in her hands. She smiled at Harry, her eyes softening as they met his.

"I thought breakfast in bed might be a good idea."

James got up and helped her, taking the weight of the tray from her. He put it on top of the bed and Harry's stomach growled at the sight. There was a stack of toasts, a bowl of scrambled eggs, bacon strips and a jug of orange juice. There were also two bowls of porridge with a dollop of honey in the centre.

Lily came to sit next to Harry, as James picked up Damien and sat him on top of the bed, on the other side of the tray. Lily brushed a hand through Harry's hair.

"I know you said you're not hungry," she started, "but maybe you could have a small bite?"

Harry looked over at the tray and his stomach grumbled loudly.

"I'm sure I can manage that." he smiled.

Lily picked up a plate and filled it with a bit of everything and handed it to Harry. She did the same for Damien. James picked up a plate and filled it for his wife before getting a plate for himself.

Harry had never, in his life, had breakfast in bed. He looked around at the other three, all sitting comfortably on his bed, happily tucking in to their breakfast. Harry found himself mesmerised by the scene. And here he had spent the night, feeling the bed was too small for him to sleep in and now all his family was piled on top, each in one corner, happily having their breakfast.

"I was thinking," Lily started, "we could redecorate your room," her bright eyes met Harry's, "you know, turn it from a spare guest room into your room."

Harry could honestly care less but he swallowed his mouthful of eggs and nodded.

"Fine, yeah."

"You can pick your colours," Lily continued, "Damy did the same, although your dad and I had to interfere, he wanted luminous orange."

Harry smiled.

"Luminous orange, huh?" Harry asked, nodding at Damien, "sounds like fun."

Lily laughed.

"Yes, well, creative rights and everything aside, the room still has to resemble a room, not the core of the sun." she teased.

Damien was happily finishing his bowl of porridge, not a care what the rest were talking about. Harry looked over at him and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

xxx