Chapter Twenty-Five: Harry Potter and the Dark Night of the Soul

Draco must have been waiting up just in case Harry sent a return owl that night, because when Harry sent Pigwidgeon back with a note inquiring:

'Malfoy -

Was that a threat?'

He scarcely had time to finish a second glass of fire whiskey before Pigwidgeon returned, zooming back into the kitchen, hooting happily, with Draco's response scrawled onto Harry's own note.

Harry's fingers trembled with anxious anticipation as he unfolded the spare bit of parchment to feast his hungry eyes on Draco's response, which read as follows:

'Why? You scared, Potter?'

A slow grin spread across Harry's face as he read the words, then he pulled out his quill and wrote back with a flourish:

'You wish.'

And smirking, he sent a rather excited Pigwidgeon off to Malfoy Manor once more before making his way back up to bed, stumbling a little from the two glasses of fire whiskey and something that might be mistaken for lust.

Merlin's balls, Draco's letter had just about driven Harry mad and his body still ached with frustration and longing, but thankfully dawn would soon be breaking.

Maybe he could wake up Dudley...

...or Ron...

"Fuck!" Harry cursed.

What was he doing? Had he lost his bloody mind? He had Dudley now, and he had fought for him - hell, he'd even gone so far as to use the most unforgivable of all the unforgivable curses for him - so why was he messing about and flirting with Ron? And doing...whatever the fuck this was with Malfoy? His father NEVER would have treated his mother like this.

Harry stopped just outside the bedroom door, but instead of going inside to Dudley, he collapsed to the threadbare carpet on the floor and clutched his head in his hands - though this time it wasn't because his scar was hurting.

"What am I doing?" Harry whisper-wailed, pulling on his own hair and looking skyward to the ceiling, where Wizard God and Wizard Jesus lived, if they were anything like their Muggle counterparts.

If there even was such a thing as a Wizard God or Wizard Jesus.

"Oh Wizard God, why am I such a raging douchebag?" Harry wept, not expecting an answer.

But then, to his surprise, he heard a voice slither through the back of his mind as clear as day...

"Becaussssssse...you are...a sssssssnake." The voice of Wizard God hissed.

Harry gasped, his eyes widening and his blood running cold.

No, no, NO! It wasn't Wizard God talking to him, it was the fire whiskey. There wasn't even any such thing as Wizard God - Harry had made that up himself, for Merlin's sake. What would Wizards need a god for anyway?

Harry shook his head. He felt like he was going mad and he wished that there was someone he could talk to, but when you're supposed to be the strong one, the hero, the person everyone else is counting on to fix all the world's problems, who are you supposed to turn to when you need help?

Harry slumped back against the bedroom door, bile and fire whiskey churning in the pit of his stomach as flashes of his behaviour over the last few weeks plagued his mind just as the Muggle Virus plagued all of humanity.

Maybe it was better that his sainted parents had died when he was barely a year old, they didn't have to suffer through living to see what he had become: an angry, selfish, manipulative, scheming, vengeful, narcissistic little shite of a fifteen year old who couldn't be faithful or keep his dick in his trousers and was such a drama queen that he couldn't be content with getting mixed up in a love triangle like normal people - oh no! That wasn't good enough for The Boy Who Lived! He had to create an entire love SQUARE to trap himself in!

Harry thumped the back of his head against the door in an act of frustration and self-flagellation.

"I wish my parents were alive..." He said aloud to no one, roughly wiping away the single tear that dared to fall with the back of his hand and burying his face in his knees.

Just then there was the sound of a door creaking open and Harry's head snapped back up to see a figure slowly backing out of Sirius' bedroom.

Neither man nor boy could disguise the guilty look of someone who had been caught at something they were ashamed of as Lupin turned around and saw Harry sitting there on the floor.

"Harry!" Lupin exclaimed, startled at the sight of the boy. "I was...er...you see, I was just...uh..."

"It's okay, Mooney," Harry said dismissively, interrupting Lupin before he was forced to conjure up a lie. "You don't need to make excuses, and you and Sirius don't need to hide anymore, either - I may be only fifteen years old, but I'm not a child. I'm happy for both of you." He tried to smile at his former professor, but could scarcely manage a miserable half smile before his lips started quivering with emotion and unshed tears. He bit down so hard on his bottom lip to stop himself from crying that his teeth punctured the soft flesh, the blood that spilled forth filling his mouth with the taste of pennies and penance.

But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Lupin went pink in the face with pleasure at Harry's words of approval and he was just stammering out his gratitude when the boy suddenly burst into tears seemingly out of nowhere. "Harry!" Lupin cried, "What's wrong?"

But Harry couldn't even look at the man who had been one of his parents' most bosom of chums, he just buried his face in his hands and started crying even harder.

Lupin crouched down on the floor to get on Harry's level and reached out his hand to the crying boy. "Come on, Harry, there's not a problem in the world that can't be solved with a cup of tea, a bit of chocolate and a chat with the people who love you." Lupin said, pulling a sullen Harry up to his feet.

"Ha," Harry laughed morosely. "People who love me? Nobody loves me...they just love who I'm supposed to be...nobody really even knows me...and maybe it's best that they don't - not even my own parents would have been able to love me if they saw who and what I really am..." Harry spat bitterly as his traitorous lip began trembling again.

Lupin put his arm round Harry, deciding to ignore the smell of fire whiskey on the young boy's breath as he gave him a bit of a loving squeeze.

"Oh Harry, you must know that isn't true..." Lupin said, shaking his head and smiling sympathetically at him. "And you have people right here at Grimmauld Place who love you very much - including me and your godfather - so how about you and I go have a talk and a cup of tea with Sirius and sort this all out?"

But as much as Harry wished that he could allow himself to be lead into Sirius' bedroom to be comforted by his father's childhood friends, he couldn't control the serpent that rose angrily within him, no matter how hard he tried to fight against it.

"NO! YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER!" Harry shouted as he tore himself from Lupin's embrace and ran back downstairs, almost tripping over his own drunken feet as he went.

Not thinking about what he was doing, where he was going or the fact that he was barefoot and wearing nothing but a pair of Dudley's old hand me down pajamas, Harry Potter opened the front door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and went out into the plague stricken world.