A/N: Hi! I was talking to my friend, and I was kind of toying with the idea of Harry getting the Horcrux kissed out of him by the Dementors. We went through the series and tried to point out the big things that would change. I thought it was a pretty neat idea, and I couldn't find any fics that had explored it, so I decided to do it myself. Hope you enjoy.

"Expecto patronum!" he gasped.

By the feeble light of his formless Patronus, he saw a Dementor halt, very close to him. It couldn't walk through the cloud of silver mist Harry had conjured. A dead, slimy hand slid out from under the cloak. It made a gesture as though to sweep the Patronus aside.

"No — no —" Harry gasped. "He's innocent... expecto- expecto patronum —"

He could feel them watching him, hear their rattling breath like an evil wind around him. The nearest Dementor seemed to be considering him. Then it raised both its rotting hands — and lowered its hood.

Where there should have been eyes, there was only thin, gray scabbed skin, stretched blankly over empty sockets. But there was a mouth... a gaping, shapeless hole, sucking the air with the sound of a death rattle.

A paralyzing terror filled Harry so that he couldn't move or speak. His patronus flickered and died.

- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Fear was a feeling Harry Potter was more than intimate with. He had been sufficiently afraid and rightly terrified many times in his life. At the end of his first year, as Lord Voldemort ordered Quirrel to, "Kill him!" and how quickly thereafter he had felt his Professor's hand close down on his throat, squeezing at his windpipe. Harry had felt immense fear, as he threw himself, sword in hand, blindly at the mouth of the Basilisk. By some dumb luck he had struck true, it emit a guttural screech, and blood poured down over his arms and middle in hot and sticky droves. Harry had felt fear tonight, as his favorite Professor transformed before his very eyes into a Werewolf, and bore down on him and his friends. He had been afraid. Harry had known fear. Fear was nothing compared to what he felt right now.

Harry's heart felt like ice. His vision was foggy, and he faintly registered the feeling of Hermione's body, which he had been supporting, roll away from him as he fell to his knees. The Dementor closed the gap between them, gliding across the chilled air, and his vision failed him entirely. Harry saw only black now. The Dementor raised its hands to his face, he felt the chilled pointed fingers on his chin tilt his head skyward. The cold was not only in his chest now, it pierced every inch of him, it lived inside of him and he knew that at any second he would feel it, a fate worse than death. The Dementor's kiss.

Though his sight had abandoned him, Harry could still feel the cold, ragged breaths of the Dementor upon his face. And as it's terrible, scabbed mouth inched closer to his, he could feel the breaths become shallow and fast. It was getting excited.

Though Harry was currently operating in some form of semi-consciousness, his instincts still forced his mouth shut. He pressed his lips together so tightly they went white. If Harry Potter was anything, he was defiant. But the Dementor did not kiss his mouth, Harry felt it's breath travel higher on his face, he felt it on his nose, then his forehead, then his-

The Dementor trapped his scabbed mouth over Harry's scar, and as he experienced a pain completely unique, and more intense than any he had felt in his life, Harry blacked out completely.

Harry was on a cold and dirty tiled floor. He had his head tucked between his tiny knees, and his hands in his hair, cowering in the fetal position. The belt hurt, and the bare flesh on his back stung vividly with the memory of its last lashing.

"Freak!"

*Crack*

He could not help the whimper that escaped his lips.

"You're a freak Tom!"

*Crack*

"A no good, freak!"

*Crack*

In his peripheral, he saw the door. The door to his small room, in his small, rundown orphanage. He made to crawl to it.

*Crack*

He stopped crawling.

"Stay still!" The shrill voice cried, "Nobody is coming to get you Tom! You hurt people! You *Crack* Are *Crack* A *Crack*"

"FREAK"

Harry looked longingly toward them. While every other child in the room had solemnly occupied themselves, either working on puzzles that had long since lost too many pieces to be completed, or reading books that had long since lost too many pages to tell a full story, these two were laughing. A boy and a girl, their heads pressed together as they whispered, and giggled. Had their faces been any closer to one another, they would be snogging.

The only thing rarer at this orphanage than laughter, Harry lamented, was parents looking to adopt. After all, who would want a child from a disgusting, broken down home like this? A place that almost seemed to breed disgusting, broken down children. Yet there they were, tucked away in their own corner. Laughing. It made him angry, and when they both glanced his way, and caught his eye, they fell into a fit of hysterics, laughing harder than before. They were laughing at him! Harry squeezed his fist so tight it hurt, and he saw red.

'She's dead,' he thought. His friend. His first and only friend was dead, it's tiny, curled up body rested in his two small hands. A snake, a gorgeous, unassuming little snake; the first and only living thing to ever engage him in conversation willingly, happily, was dead. It's scaled body was cold against his skin, though where before the touch of it's cool body had brought Harry warmth, his blood now too ran cold.

"Tom!" A woman cried from Harry's right- he did not pull his eyes away from the still creature. "You disgusting boy!" She said, and he heard her footsteps click and clack against the tiled floor.

Harry wished he knew how to save it, he didn't want it to be dead. He wanted, with all of his will, for the snake to move again, to speak to him again. He didn't want to be alone again. He felt his fingertips begin to tingle at the thought, a feeling of intense warmth ran down his arms from his chest, and he felt it pool in his palms. The snake twitched, and Harry's eyes widened. It moved! It was alive!

"Euch!" The woman to his right exclaimed, striking the snake out of his hands. It made a fleshy smacking sound as it landed on the tile. It tried to orient itself and slither away, before the caretaker's heel stomped down on its small, scaled head. The blood oozed out from underneath her tacky shoes. 'It's dead,' Harry thought. And Harry decided all in one moment that he hated death.

Harry's surroundings suddenly shifted, and found himself watching them again, that boy and that girl. Harry had only one thought plaguing his mind, his friend was dead. And yet he watched them. All the way across from him, in the far corner of the room where that girl, and that boy, were laughing. He did not want them to laugh anymore.

Harry was surfing through the worst bits of a life he had not lived, gliding from moment to moment of agony, misery, loneliness. Some were vivid, and he was forced to live out these moments in excruciating realism. Tom's pain was his pain. Though, some memories were not so vivid, just flashes of intense emotion or feeling.

Finally, after hours of hurt and anguish, he found himself at the front step of the Potter's.

It was a small, uniform cottage among many other similarly shaped houses lining the street. No one building had any indication of being any more or less special than the next, but Harry knew differently. Wormtail had done well. He knew that upon entering this house, he would taste ultimate victory. He locked his eyes on the wood of the crimson door in front of him.

Harry raised his arm, and as he did, his eyes shifted to his pearl white yew wand. They lingered only for a moment, he flicked his wrist, and with a gigantic CRASH, the front door was blasted from its hinges, sailing into the front room of the Potter's small cottage. He stepped into the room regally, and felt his feet make contact with the spongy carpet. His eyes took in the room. Babies toys littered the floor of the house. A small stuffed lion, a toy broomstick, a plastic donut with distinct teeth indents. They surely belonged to the boy he was prophesized to kill.

Across from him, the front room lead into a small hallway, and on the right hand side of the hallway, a staircase. Down it came rushing a bespectacled man. Fear was he was intimately familiar with, something he had felt sufficiently and rightly at many points in his life. Fear was nothing compared to the emotion Harry read on James Potter's face right now.

"Lily! It's him, take Harry and run!" he cried, pulling his wand from his pocket, and swinging it up with admirable speed. A jet of thick red pulsing light illuminated the hall, and then the front room, as it soared toward Harry. When it reached him, Harry simply batted it away with a lazy swipe of his wand, and it veered past him. He did not spare a glance, as the wall behind him was blown open, glass and debris raining onto the grass outside. A powerful blasting hex; admirable, but it would take more than admirable to beat him.

With speed so quick he could hardly track his own movements, his wand jabbed forward, "Avada Kedavra!" he cast, in a high pitched, chilling voice. The man dove out of the way of the sickly green looking curse, onto the stairs, as it smashed into the wall. Harry felt his lips curl into a smile, as he swiftly crossed the front room, and stepped into the hallway. He could hear the man scrambling to his feet.

As Harry stepped in front of the stairs, he met eyes with James Potter. He had his wand raised, readying another curse. If James Potter was anything, he was defiant.

"Confringo!" The bespectacled man cried. A ball of fire closed the gap between them in less than a second. Harry so quickly drew his wand up in a straight, precise line, and the curse bounced off his shield- flew back at its caster. James Potter's eyes widened, and he buckled his own knees to avoid it, crashing down hard on the stairs beneath him. The curse exploded above his head, Harry could feel the warmth wash over him as the curse burst and left a sizeable hole in the wall. Harry could now hear a baby crying in one of the rooms above him, surely that must be Harry Potter.

James Potter tried to scramble to his feet, but-

"Avada Kedavra"

James Potter was dead.

Harry felt something close to elation, as he took to the stairs. He flicked his wand, and James Potter's body flung sideways into the wall with a sickening crunch. Harry stepped past him, paying him no mind.

He reached the top of the stairs, and was met with another small hallway with three doors. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath through slitted nostrils. He could still hear the cries of the child. His eyes locked on the one of the doors, and with another flick of his wand, it swung open.

Inside the room, a woman. Her eyes were wide like an animal, and her arms were outstretched as she blocked his view of the child within a small blue crib. The baby wailed loudly behind her. He wanted to silence the child's cries. He had no time for this.

"Step aside girl!" Harry demanded. She shared the same expression her husband had just moments ago.

"Please," Lily Potter begged, "Please not Harry, please! Please!" Her fiery hair flowed around her face, as she shook her head. She was crying, and panting hard. Yes, he thought, she reminded him very much of an animal in this moment.

"Lord Voldemort has told you to stand aside!" Harry declared, no patience in his tone.

"I won't! I won't let you have Harry I-" She opened her mouth to say something more.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Lily Potter's body knocked hard against the crib, and fell lifeless to the floor.

The baby cried now harder than it had before, and the sound pierced his ears in a way most aggravating. He tried to fix his features with a scowl, but it quickly fell away. This was the final piece. He stepped toward the crib, and locked eyes with the infant. The child fell silent.

"Harry Potter," said Harry in his high, piercing voice. The only thing standing before him, and his rule. Him and his immortality, his victory. The only thing in his way was this child. Harry's smile widened into some horrific elated grin, he felt his cheeks strain with the effort of it, he flourished his wand, raised it high and-

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

And Harry Potter awoke in the hospital wing.

Chapter One: Blurry

He shot up quickly, gasping for air. There was an intense throbbing pain in his forehead, and a cold sweat coating every inch of his body. He wasn't sure where he was. He looked around manically, trying to take in his surroundings, he was in the hospital wing, at Hogwarts, but everything was blurry! Why was it all-

"Harry!" He heard a concerned whisper from his left. He turned toward it, still breathing unevenly, and watched as a blurry figure shuffled out of their bed and stepped toward him. They grabbed something from the night stand, and apprehensively, they slowly reached out and placed them on his face. They were his glasses. He was Harry Potter and he wore glasses. This obvious fact took a moment to sink in as Hermione's concerned face came into focus.

"Her- Hermione" Harry croaked, in between hard breaths. Seeing her face suddenly set Harry's mind ablaze, and he began to hyperventilate as the nights events seemed to flash before his eyes; Buckbeak and the Whomping Willow and Sirius Black and Professor Lupin and Peter Pettigrew and the Dementors-

Harry was riled from his thoughts when he felt Hermione place her hands on his shoulders.

"Harry," Hermione gently squeezed his shoulders, "Harry please calm down" She plead in a quiet yet desperate voice. "Please, I need you to calm down." He looked into her eyes, which were bristling with tears.

'She looks so afraid,' Harry thought to himself. And so he made his best effort to calm himself for her sake. He closed his eyes, and over the course of a minute or two took several shaky and slow deep breaths. When he had calmed himself completely, Harry looked back up to her and nodded.

"Harry," Hermione's hands fell away from him, she wrung them anxiously around her middle. "Harry they've got Sirius, they-" it was Hermione's turn to collect herself. "They're going to perform the Dementor's kiss."

"No!" Harry cried out suddenly, jumping to his feet. Hermione stumbled back from him. "Hermione we have to-"

Harry was cut short as the large oak doors to the Hospital Wing flew open. Harry and Hermione both turned toward the sound, as Madam Pomfrey walked quickly through the doors with Professor Dumbledore in tow.

"Mr. Potter! Miss Granger!" She called sternly, seeing the two of them standing there. "You two get right back into those beds this instant!" Harry didn't listen. Harry had locked eyes with the Headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry called, "Professor you can't let them do this! Sirius is innocent!"

"Mr. Potter you are to return to your bed at-" Madam Pomfrey stopped suddenly, as Dumbledore's hand fell softly on her shoulder. She turned to him, but he looked past her, at Harry as he spoke.

"Poppy, I'd like you to give me a moment alone with Harry and Miss Granger."

"Professor Dumbledore, these two are seriously ill! They're suffering effects of extreme exposure to Dementors! I must tend to..." her voice fell away as Dumbledore looked down to meet her gaze. While his blue eyes normally twinkled with something almost playful, his light blue irises now danced with something akin to electricity.

"A moment, Poppy." Dumbledore stated calmly. Madam Pomfrey scoffed, as the Headmaster gently removed his hand. She looked back and forth between Harry and Dumbledore.

"Five minutes," she said. She moved past Dumbledore, and went toward the door, pausing in the door way and fixing him a firm glare. "You've got five minutes before I tend to my patients." Dumbledore nodded slightly, with a small smile.

"Thank you Poppy." He said, and the oak doors loudly swung shut. As soon as they did, Harry began to speak rapidly.

"Professor," Harry said, stepping around his bed and striding toward the Headmaster, he heard Hermione following him. "Professor please, Sirius is innocent! It was Pettigrew- Peter Pettigrew, I mean, he was-" Dumbledore held up a hand, and Harry swiftly shut his mouth.

"I believe you." said Dumbledore, and Harry let out a breath, "Miss Granger has told me all about what has happened tonight. Please, Harry, I must ask that you do not interrupt, we've only a moment." Harry held his tongue.

"Yes, sir."

"As it stands," Dumbledore began, pacing back and forth slowly in front of the two of them as he spoke, "The Minister is currently with Professor Snape in the entrance hall awaiting the arrival of the Dementors, and in a few minutes, when they arrive, they shall make their way up the castle to Sirius and administer the kiss." Harry looked ready to interrupt, but Dumbledore pushed on. "Im sorry to say, but this is happening any moment now, this is a certainty. Why, I do believe even if I were to tell Cornelius your story, he'd never believe it. In his eyes, Sirius is a deranged mass murderer, and since his escape, a public smearing of Ministry standards. Sadly, nothing you two say or do will have the ability change that now." Harry visibly deflated. "With another night, we might be able to solve this, to set things right. We simply do not have what we need. And I think..." Dumbledore stopped pacing, seeming to choose his words carefully, "That what we need," he paused, "is more time."

"Madam Pomfrey said she'd return in five short minutes to assess you two, that leaves you a very small window of opportunity indeed."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore raised his hand again and he stopped.

"You've about a three minute window to be through those doors, and back into your beds after I close them. Now, Miss Granger," he fixed her with a hard stare, "You know the laws. You mustn't be seen. Three turns should do it I think," Dumbledore took a heavy breath, "and I implore you, you must not be seen!" Harry looked toward Hermione, who was staring at the Headmaster with wide eyes. She gulped and nodded feverently. He nodded once back at her, and turned from the two of them, striding toward the door. Harry was utterly confused.

"But Professor," Harry began, as Dumbledore opened the doors. He spun on his heel, and poked his head through the doors.

"Black is currently being held in Professor Flitwick's office at the top of the North Tower, fourth window up, second from the left." Dumbledore smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled mischievously in the moonlight. "And I do think that if you two succeed, it's possible more than one innocent life could be spared tonight." Dumbledore finished mysteriously. Harry, completely baffled, swung his body to look toward Hermione, who seemed to understand every word perfectly. Harry swiveled back to Dumbledore who fixed them with a compassionate stare, "Good luck." The doors to the hospital wing closed with an audible click.

Harry spun around once more to face Hermione, a thousand questions at the tip of his tongue, and another one taking their place when he saw her digging down the front of her robes, and pulling out a small, golden hourglass on the end of a long chain. She met Harry's eyes with a determined look.

"There's no time to explain," said Hermione, stepping toward Harry and throwing the chain over his head, around both of their necks. He felt very much like he could be dreaming. "Well I suppose there is time- Oh never mind, I'll explain on the way there." She began to fiddle with the small hourglass. Harry spotted his red headed friend out of the corner of his eye, laying open mouthed and silent on one of the beds. He thought it odd for Ron to not be snoring in his sleep, but Harry was far too concerned with what Hermione was doing for his thoughts to linger.

"On the way where?" Harry asked, befuddled.

"Hagrid's hut," said Hermione, turning the hourglass over in her hand for a third time. Immediately the world began to spin around Harry and Hermione, an incomprehensible blur of colors and sounds. Harry had a feeling like he was flying backwards very fast. There was a faint whirring like an old fan, and the world stopped spinning. He was exactly where he had been before, but now the room was basked in a golden light. Hermione yanked the chain off of him, and deposited it back down the front of her robes.

"Wha-"

"Come on!" Hermione said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the doors of the Hospital Wing.

Harry and Hermione sat side by side, cross legged on a large rock at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The sky was painted with clouds, and only a few strips of blue moonlight pierced through them. They'd be in almost complete darkness, if not for the idle glow of Hermione's wand light, as she held it limply in her lap.

After narrowly escaping being sighted by the Minister of Magic himself, and successfully freeing Buckbeak, they thought it wise to keep watch on the Whomping Willow. Though, Hermione wasn't totally sure what the next step was now. The only sounds of the night were the light breeze, as it ruffled the leaves that capped the trees, and Buckbeak's soft murmuring as he slept a few paces behind them.

'I wonder what he's dreaming about?' Hermione thought, glancing back at the proud creature. The thought was fleeting though, as she turned back to consider Harry. His body was bathed in her wand light, and he stared off toward the Whomping Willow with a blank and vagrant expression.

"Harry" she said. He mustn't have heard her, or was just ignoring her completely. Hermione looked at the Whomping Willow, and back to him. He didn't seem to be watching it, he seemed to be looking a thousand yards past it at something she couldn't see.

"Harry," she said again, a bit louder this time. "Harry!"

"Huh?" Harry said, shaking his head once, and turning to her. "Sorry what?"

Hermione simply stared at him, with that signature calculating look she got on her face when she was trying to crack a particularly difficult problem. He met her eyes and gave her a blank look.

"What, Hermione?" She held his gaze for awhile.

"H...How are you feeling?" She asked lamely. Harry didn't answer right away, instead he opened his mouth, and held it open. It hung that way for a moment, before he shut it with a pop. He turned back toward the Whomping Willow.

"We are going to save him Harry," she emphasized, "I promise," she declared further, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing it softly. He did not look at her. "I mean, we already saved Buckbeak!" She tried, motioning her head toward the sleeping hippogriff. Harry swiveled his head toward him, still seemingly deep in thought.

"Yeah." Harry said softly. He turned back and fixed the Willow with those same one thousand yard eyes.

"That's not all that's on your mind, is it?" Hermione pressed. He still did not look at her.

"No."

Hermione let out a frustrated groan, setting down her wand and hopping down from the rock. She stepped in front of him, and took his hands in hers. He looked down at them, face unchanging.

"Harry look at me."

He did. And on his face she saw him wear an expression she had never seen on him before. His green eyes seemed dull, lacking the life that normally danced across his irises. His mouth was held in a thin line, and his features seemed uncommonly relaxed.

"Please Harry, you're my best friend." Hermione pleaded, "I need you to talk to me." And he finally wore some emotion on his face, looking a bit sheepish.

"I'm sorry I-" Harry began, before falling into silence once more. He turned away from her. She let out another frustrated growl, dropping his hands and raising her own to his face. She took his chin in both hands and went to turn his face toward her.

Her hands had barely grazed his chin when his hands shot up, grabbing her roughly by both wrists. They stayed that way for a moment, both sharing the same shocked expression.

"You're right. I'm sorry." Harry said, and he gently led her hands away from his face.

"S'okay" she said softly, rubbing her wrists. He gently pat the rock next to him.

"Sit back down." She nodded slowly, and then lifted herself back up onto the rock by his side. They sat there for a moment, as Harry searched for the right words.

"Hermione I..." Harry's face scrunched up with the effort of thinking. "Hermione do you know what I hear? When they come for me?"

He finally turned to her of his own volition, and they met one another's eyes. She pursed her lips together, and looked as if she swallowed something disgusting.

"I- I think I do Harry." He smirked, though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"I should have guessed you'd figured it out."

"We can still talk about it if you-"

"No, Hermione." He stopped her. "This is something different. It's more than just that, I mean." He said to her. She knit her eyebrows, and wore a concerned look. "When we were at the lake, and the Dementors were closing in I..." he trailed off again. Hermione gave him time to sort his thoughts.

"They were coming for him, for Sirius. They were coming for us. For you." Hermione listened with rapt attention. "I couldn't stop them." Harry said, now looking down at his hands. "I couldn't stop them and one of them- I think it got me."

"Oh," Hermione said as if speaking to a child, "No Harry, of course they didn't get you!" She shook his leg. "You're safe, you're-"

"No Hermione." Harry stated firmly. "I could feel it's... feel it's hands on my chin, I felt it's breath on my face." Harry raised one hand, and with one finger, touched his forehead tenderly. He winced.

"I think it went for my scar." said Harry. When he looked up at her, Hermione's concern was as plain as day. "And I saw some things." He said, turning away again. He stared off in the same way he had before. A few moments passed, and the silent of the night took them again. Buckbeak fiddled in his sleep, and clicked his beak a few times.

"What did you see Harry?" Hermione asked gently after a short stretch of time. Harry seemed to consider this.

"I don't know." he admitted softly, in a voice barely above a whisper. "I don't remember most of it..."

"It hurt though," he continued, "All of it. It was like a dream, like the worst nightmare I've ever had a thousand times over."

"When I woke up, I wasn't sure who I was, or where I was. I didn't even remember my name was Harry until you said it to me." He didn't dare look at her now. If he did, he thought he might never say this. "I think I saw them die." he said into the night. "Them, Hermione." He said, his breath catching in his throat. Next to him, Hermione was holding hers. "And I saw it, like... like I was him."

"Oh... Oh Harry..." Hermione began, but she was cut short as there was a sudden explosion of noise from in front of them. Both of their heads snapped up. They hadn't even realized their past selves had exited the Whomping Willow. Professor Lupin had completed his transformation, and the noises of he and Sirius battling were destroying the night's silence. "Harry we-"

But Harry was already on his feet, wand in hand. He grabbed her hand with his free one, and tugged her down from the rock.

"Come on!" Harry cried.

A/N: Lemme know what you think! I've already written up the next few chapters, they should all go up today.