A/N - If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading. This story has been in my head forever, so I'm stoked to share it, but I'm also really interested in how you're liking it (or not liking it). This chapter might be one of my favourites; I went down the rabbit-hole on Austrian ski resorts and the Hotel Almhof Schneider is my mental picture for this. Anyhow, comment and follow buttons are at the end, so feel free to say hi :)

Chapter 7

Brady stopped short in the lobby of the hotel. Something unpleasant caught his attention and it was a rare moment that he found himself caught off-guard. Standing at reception was a young woman with artificially red hair who would have been attractive were it not for the fact that she was loudly arguing with the hotel staff. There was no mistaking it – Brady recognized this scene from the south of France this past summer – this was the model that Harry Osborn briefly dated, the one who had recently tried to contact him.

It was fortunate that Harry was out at the moment and was not likely to return for several hours. All the same, the fact that this girl had managed to track him down was no mere coincidence. Brady inconspicuously took a seat in the lobby and feigned interest in some magazines on the coffee table, while listening carefully to what was being said.

She seemed intent on learning whether or not Harry Osborn was staying here, information that the hotel would neither confirm nor deny, no matter how much she threatened. Finally she had to relent and withdraw once the manager gave her the option of either leaving or being removed from the premises. The young woman left in a huff, furiously texting as she went.

Seeing that this was a good moment for a quick conversation with the manager, Brady made his way over to the reception – the manager was very likely to call the personal assistant of one of their best guests and keep him informed. Brady's next task would be to call Harry with the warning that Cynthia was looking for him.

Meanwhile, Zahra and Harry were holed-up in a café – sweaters on, hot drinks in hand, acoustic tracks straight off the vinyl in the background, paper notebooks and digital tablets filling the table. She had schoolwork to do and he had a weekend getaway to plan. Harry's phone vibrated from an incoming phone call and he glanced up at it.

"It's Brady," he announced, and answered it.

Zahra looked up and was surprised to see a worried look come over Harry's face.

"I'll be back," he mouthed and stood up, taking the conversation to the chilly outdoors.

Now she was concerned; most likely it was something having to do with his father. Zahra tried to focus on her assignment, but her concentration kept tracking to Harry's pacing figure outside. Finally, he returned, though with a tension in his features that hadn't been there minutes ago.

"Everything alright?" she ventured.

His eyes barely met hers and he leaned forward to speak in low tones. "There's something you should know: remember that I said I had been dating a model earlier this year?" he paused as Zahra nodded. "Well, I didn't tell you about why I broke up with her – she was totally self-absorbed, getting me into drugs, and obsessively jealous. Things didn't start like that, but they definitely ended that way. I had to leave the country to get away from her; I could see myself slipping into some bad stuff. Anyway, she didn't take it well, and has learned that I'm in Berlin."

"She's looking for you?" Zahra gasped.

"Brady just called to tell me that she was at the hotel trying to find me. I don't know how she's getting this information, maybe there's a paparazzo tailing me, but in any case, it's only a matter of time before she tracks me down."

"You're not going to leave Berlin, are you?" she asked, eyes widening in fear.

"Not at all, but I'm thinking that we should go on that ski trip sooner rather than later. Give things a few days to cool off here; maybe she'll give up and leave town."

"That's alright with me."

"I'm sorry for all this drama – it's my own fault that I'm in this mess."

If only Brady was present to have heard him say that, he thought to himself.

The past week had flown by and the hotel, flight, and train all fell into place – albeit with some of Brady's finessing – and now Harry and Zahra were on their way from the airport to the train that would take them to the foot of the ski hills in Austria. Zahra could barely contain her excitement at actually going on a holiday. It was the first time in what felt like forever. Berlin, with her upsetting family circumstances, the pressures of high school, and the monotony of work, felt far behind.

She glanced over at Harry as they rolled their luggage behind them, and his expression revealed that he felt the same eager anticipation. He caught her looking at him and a grin broke across his face. Harry reached out and took her hand. His own radiated warmth for once; usually his hands were cold. Up ahead, the loyal assistant deftly navigated the way to their train. Though she couldn't see him now, Zahra had snuck a peek at Brady earlier, and even his composed countenance showed that he was pleased with this trip.

As Harry watched her, he realized that he had never had as much joy on a vacation as Zahra was now having; everything was new to her, and she was photographing it all. His mind flashed back to the countless vice-fueled trips he had taken with people he didn't really know or care about – how empty that all seemed now! As long as Zahra was happy, that was all Harry wanted.

The hotel where they were staying was simultaneously elegant and intimate, rustic and contemporary. They had booked one of the largest suites for their stay; with three bedrooms and ample space, Harry felt like he could have moved in permanently. Brady went right to work unpacking, leaving the younger people to explore and make plans.

"What do you think of dining out tonight?" Harry ventured.

"There are so many places nearby, I don't know how we'll visit them all," Zahra said with a laugh, "but we should certainly try! And then hit the slopes tomorrow?"

"And then maybe have dinner in if we're tired?"

"Actually we could ski everyday…"

"Then we'll definitely need to go to the spa…"

"And the restaurant in our hotel – I'm so excited for everything, I almost want to stay forever!"

They grinned at each other. Zahra couldn't help but marvel at how Harry's blue eyes sparkled. It was going to be the best vacation ever.

The getaway was all that they dreamed it to be. The first night they checked out a trendy restaurant just across the river from where they were staying. They spent most of the next day on the ski hills, returning exhausted and would have stayed in their suite all night had they not discovered the cinema in the hotel, and curled up there until Brady came looking for them. The next day, they went to the spa to work on their sore muscles, then back to the ski hills. That evening Harry and Zahra had a lavish dinner in the hotel's restaurant, and eventually called it a night once the wine started taking an effect, with Zahra feeling tipsy and light-headed.

Sometime in the middle of the night, she woke up and went to use the washroom. Yet, on her way back to bed, an unusual sound caught her attention, rousing her from her drowsy state. Zahra crept out of her room, the suite was bathed in a glow from the snow and exterior lighting. Up at the mini-bar, a slightly swaying figure was pouring a drink, the glass of the bottle sparkling when it caught a ray of light. She was confused at the sight at first, and then realized it was Harry. He was drunk, there were no two ways about it. The wine at dinner didn't seem to touch him, but she could see that he was on to something much stronger now. Zahra stifled what was either a gasp or a sob, and tiptoed back to her room, where the emotion broke and she wept quietly in the dark.

Zahra had no first-hand knowledge of alcohol abuse, but the fact that someone she deeply cared about was clearly struggling with this absolutely terrified her. Being lost in thought, she was startled by a soft knock at her door.

"Yes?" she replied, sounding frightened.

She was surprised when Brady entered, with disheveled hair – the first time she had ever seen the assistant with hair that was less than perfect – and wearing a bathrobe.

"I apologize for the disturbance; I was fairly certain that you were awake," he said in a whisper. "You saw Harry drinking, didn't you?"

Her gaze dropped. "Yes."

"I was concerned that he might be having trouble tonight," Brady responded with a tired sigh. "If he has more than a few drinks, sometimes he has trouble stopping at that. He had a little more at dinner than he should have."

"Is it okay that you're telling me this?"

"I'm probably overstepping; however, you should know that alcohol is something he hasn't been able to get control of yet. I know you're alarmed, so I wanted you know that he is working on it, but he does have bad days. And I want you to know what you're getting into with him."

Zahra nodded, taking it all in. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Talk openly and honestly about it. Even if you meet with some resistance at first, he'll come around. Harry has some demons and he doesn't trust me with all of them; he may not trust anyone with them yet, but I think he'll open up to you. Remember though, it's not up to you to fix or save Harry Osborn – only he can do that."

"Alright, I think I understand," she murmured, though she wasn't sure.

The next morning saw Harry with a bleary face, Zahra with puffy eyes, and Brady with a tightly shut jaw. The assistant elected to have breakfast down in the restaurant, leaving the other two to have breakfast alone in the suite. Harry took a gulp of his coffee and smiled weakly at Zahra.

"Harry, I'm worried about something," she started quietly.

He was immediately concerned. "What is it?"

Zahra stammered, "I- I can see that you're hungover…"

"Yeah, I guess I overdid it last night," he replied nonchalantly.

Germany and Austria had legal drinking ages that were considerably lower than the States, but that didn't excuse Harry from drinking himself into a stupor.

"I'm not just talking about dinner – I had a glass and a half of wine and that was more than enough for me – I mean after dinner, late last night, that drinking."

A full moment of silence passed. Unconsciously, Zahra was holding her breath; she could almost feel herself breaking into a nervous sweat.

"You saw me last night?" he finally said, his voice flat.

"Yes…"

Harry put both elbows on the table and buried his face in his palms. "I didn't want you to find out. I wanted to get a handle on it," he murmured, voice muffled.

"I'm not ashamed of you."

He looked up at her. "Maybe you should be though." Harry hadn't told anyone what he was about to tell Zahra. "I was sixteen when I started drinking. On my birthday, I got a bottle of scotch with a card that read 'With compliments, Norman Osborn' – something that my father would have sent to clients, but he sends it to his underage son. In fact, I think he just asked one of his assistants to send it. Perhaps I would have taken up drinking at some point anyways, it could have been inevitable, but that bottle threw me headfirst down that path."

It wasn't as though she had come from a warm household, but Zahra could scarcely imagine a parent handing their only child a bottle of alcohol and then leaving them to their own devices. She understood more clearly than ever before just how cold the relationship was between the Osborns.

Harry rubbed his face in his hands and stood up suddenly, walking to the large window. "I've been to rehab once already, but I didn't take it that seriously." He glanced back at her with a bitter smile. "Trust me, I know I have a problem, but it also feels like the slowest way to destroy myself."

He turned his gaze toward the snow-covered hills outside, and Zahra tried to gather together a collection of words to acknowledge what he had told her. How could words express what she was feeling now, as she imagined herself in his place?

Zahra got up and went over to him, placing a hand on his back; though expecting him to brush her off, she could feel him kind of melt under her touch. Sliding her arms around his waist, she pressed her body against his in a warm embrace, her cheek resting below the nape of his neck. Harry put his hands over her and moved them up to the middle of his chest, and Zahra could feel his fast heartbeat under her palms.

"Do you want to destroy yourself?" Zahra whispered.

"I'm afraid I'm going to self-destruct, I can just feel this darkness consuming me sometimes," Harry muttered, his voice now thick with barely restrained emotion.

"I know, I see it sometimes," she replied quietly.

"When I can't stand it, when I don't want to feel anything, I have a few drinks I can feel it all slip away."

He exhaled slowly, letting relief flood through him. Harry never spoke about those things; he didn't expect other people to understand what he felt, and he didn't trust anyone with something so personal. Yet, only recently he and Zahra said they would be honest and open with each other, so here it was – an unpleasant side. Her compassion and physical reassurance let him know that his secrets were safe with her, that she didn't judge him.

"I don't want you to slip away," he murmured.

Harry and Zahra spent another day out in the slopes, ending it with a horse-drawn sleigh ride back to the hotel and another stellar dinner. Despite the good day, Zahra still woke up in the middle of the night, her heart hammering from an unknown anxiety. She padded out into the main part of the suite and found it silent and still. Perhaps she was still concerned from what had happened last night. She had to be certain though. Zahra crept over to the door to Harry's room and stealthily opened it.

From the darkness she could make out his agitated form twisting in the bed, his voice mumbling unintelligible words – Harry was in the throes of a nightmare. Zahra pulled her robe around herself more closely and went over to his bedside. Her eyes had adjusted to the light from the glow of outside and she could see his face grimacing in anguish, sweat on his forehead. She had to wake him up.

"Harry…Harry…you're alright…Harry…wake up…" Zahra murmured softly, yet insistently.

His blue eyes suddenly flew open and he stared through her, bewildered and afraid.

"It's just me. You're awake now," she took one of his hands in her own and rubbed it briskly.

"Zahra…" Harry gasped and sat up in bed. "I was dreaming, wasn't I?"

"Yes, and it looked like an awful nightmare."

"It was..." He sat up and tried to catch his breath. "I get them sometimes, and then I can't go back to sleep after that."

"And that's when the alcohol comes in?" she asked, sitting down beside him.

"Yeah… I'm scared that it will start again the moment I close my eyes."

"What do you see?"

Harry's gaze met hers. "It's going to sound stupid… monsters and all sorts of horrible nameless things."

"It's not stupid."

Zahra looked down at their intertwined hands, his that were usually cold were warm and sweaty. In fact, his shirt was also soaked in perspiration. It was little wonder that Harry was sliding into alcohol abuse – anything to get relief from the nightmares and the insomnia.

"This is probably a dumb question, but why alcohol? Why not drugs or sleeping pills?"

"It's an honest question, and one I've asked myself," he replied. "My father has been ill as long as I can remember, so he's always been on a lot of meds. I've tried sleeping pills only when I've gotten really desperate, but I've always been terrified of getting addicted to anything. I figured that at least I knew what I was getting into with alcohol, like it was more pure or something. Doesn't make it any better, of course, but thanks for asking."

Harry took a long look at her. He hadn't seen Zahra in her pyjamas ever, and her curly hair was at all angles as it flowed over her shoulders. There was still concern in her face, but not the same anxiety he had seen this morning. He shivered suddenly, and realized the dampness of his shirt was starting to chill him.

"I'm going to put on a fresh shirt, but don't leave yet," he told her.

"Okay…" Zahra turned away, partly to hide her embarrassment and partly not to stare at him.

"Could you please stay for a bit? Just until I'm falling asleep."

Harry got back under the covers and Zahra surprised him by slipping under just the fluffy duvet, a sheet and blanket separating them.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"It's cold, Harry."

He grinned. "Fair enough."

As they lay there staring into each other's eyes, Zahra realized something significant. "Is this how you first saw me? When you were awake in the middle of the night like this?"

"Yes. And you started so early, at least it felt like it to me. Sometimes I would already be awake for a couple hours and then you would start at 5am."

"What made you come looking for me though?"

"I'm not sure, I just knew I had to talk to you. When I saw you crying, I just had to."

"You saw me crying?"

"Even with the distance, I could tell."

Tears now slipped from her eyes when he said that. "I was having a hard time before I met you. I honestly didn't think that there was anyone who really knew me or actually cared."

"That's how I felt too."

Huddled close, they whispered to each other until they both drifted off to sleep – the night owl and the early riser finally balanced.