Chapter Twelve

Harry tore himself from Draco, feeling as though something inside him were tearing to shreds at the same time. He distracted himself, fiddling with his gun and sword, replacing them both at his side. He couldn't bear to look at Draco, not now. More tears began to spring to his eyes and he had go get away. He strode into his bedroom, almost collapsing to the floor. He flung open the closet door and grabbed the first thing he saw, a long black trench coat.

He didn't know what to do. But he had to leave, he just had to. He couldn't leave Draco again, this time there would be no-

He opened the drawer in the table beside his bed, reaching for the Horn pendant he kept there always. Before his fingers touched the coral surface, he pulled his hand out, clenching his fist. No, he couldn't have anything that reminded him of this. Nothing to make his life more miserable than it already was. He slammed the drawer shut and left the room, pulling the collar of the coat high up on his neck.

He was focused straight ahead. He would not look over when he passed. Please don't, please don't... Harry pleaded silently with himself and with Draco, not to do anything to make him stay. No... Harry almost cried when Draco's hand reached out and grabbed his arm. The contact made Harry stand still. Just be strong, Harry. You can't do this!

Harry mentally steeled himself and turned his head to face Draco, his body still facing to the door. He was determined to leave, even though he could feel the electricity flowing between their bodies just as well as Draco could. He didn't trust his voice, but he had to speak. He had to end it. "Goodbye Draco." His voice cracked. Good, you've said it, now get the hell out of here before- Harry's eyes softened, seeing the pain in Draco's, the pleading for him to stay. "I always loved you." The words slid easily out of his mouth before his brain could stop them. No! Why would you say that! He pushed all emotion to the back of his mind, his eyes icing over. He ripped his arm out of Draco's grip harshly, turning his head away and walking out the door. Nothing could have made him look back. He was leaving for good this time. He had no reason to return.

His dark and gloomy thoughts dictated where he went next. With his mind full of images of cold rain and dark, stormy seas, he apparated into the unknown.

His mind was foggy as he travelled through the blackness, he was obviously moving a very long distance, he'd never been in the process of apparating this long before.

He landed hard, his knees buckling slightly under his exhausted weight. Wherever he was, it wasn't night time, from what he could tell, the sun was still high in the sky, though the thick cover of cloud made it impossible to tell for sure. It wasn't raining, but looked like the skies would open up at any moment.

He was standing on a rocky beach, the harsh, choppy ocean beating hard against the shore, 20 ft from where he stood. He lost himself in the ebb and flow of the water, in the violence of it. Harry chuckled to himself bitterly, he couldn't have subconsciously picked a better place to go, wherever this place was. It matched his mood perfectly.

He flipped his collar up, protecting himself from the bitter wind. Looking around, he found himself to be completely alone, the only indication there was actually life nearby was a lighthouse off in the distance, it's intermittent flashing light almost calling him forwards.

Harry walked for what seemed like hours, stumbling on the outcrops of rocks. The afternoon was starting to turn dark and he could see the lights of a small city off in the distance. He reached the small town just as the last of the light was leaving for the day. He didn't notice much as he wandered through the town. All the buildings looked the same, to him anyway.

The few people wandering around town still looked at him strangely. They were bundled up in warm clothing and rain gear. At least they spoke English, from the little bits of conversations his mind had absorbed as he wandered along.

His coat did nothing to keep out the bitter cold, but being already so numb on the inside, Harry hardly noticed the numbness that was now attacking him from the outside.

All around him stores were closing up shop for the evening. A quick glance at the signs on the doors told him that they closed at 5. He must be farther north for it to be this pitch dark at only 5pm.

He stared blankly at the sidewalk ahead of him and felt his hair quickly become damp as the skies opened up above him, the chilling rain pounding down on him.

Harry pushed his way into a building, it's open light still flickering, threatening to burn out at any second. The half dozen patrons of what Harry quickly recognized as a local bar fell silent as a newcomer entered their sanctuary. Harry absorbed as much information from this room as he could. At least he had figured out where he was, a large red and white maple leaf flag hung proudly above the bar. At least he had stayed in the commonwealth.

The warmth inside this room hit Harry like a sauna, his skin prickling as feeling returned to his fingertips. Never had Harry been so happy to be warm. The occupants of the bar and the bartender stared at him silently for a moment before returning to their previous conversation. Harry strode up to the bar and took a seat on the tattered bar stool. He could feel the sword shift at his side, the silver hilt digging deep into his hip. He ignored it, not wanting to shift it aside, the least amount of attention he drew, the better. He pushed his sopping hair out of his face, the lightning shaped scar on his forehead faintly visible in the dim, flickering light.

He silently observed the bartender for a moment, inspecting the twenty dollar bill the man held in his hands. Harry slipped his hand into his own pocket, conjuring some money of his own. This was how he had survived the many years on his own, being unwilling to go anywhere near his Gringotts account. He was fairly certain that nobody else had ever figured out how to do this, otherwise, the whole world would be billionaires.

"What can I get for you?" The scruffy, middle aged bartender asked him, slinging a slightly damp towel over his shoulder as he placed a clean glass down before Harry. The man was weathered, he looked as if he had worked hard, outdoors for many years. His face was kind though, and Harry felt no ill feelings towards him.

"Whiskey." Harry replied automatically, seemingly having forgotten what had happened the last time he had tried to drink, though the scenario had only played itself out less than twelve hours before. He didn't make eye contact with the bartender.

The man turned and retrieved a bottle from and upper shelf behind him, looking back at Harry warily. He poured a small amount in the glass sitting in front of Harry. "Three dollars." Harry reached into his pocket again, pulling out the twenty dollar bill and sliding it across the bar top. "Just keep 'em coming."

The bartender took the bill, pocketing it. "Sure thing, kid." His gaze lingered on Harry, trying to decipher the strange foreign, dark haired man sitting in his bar.

Harry smirked as he tossed the drink back. He wasn't sure he'd ever been addressed as 'kid' before. He found it almost comical, refreshing even, to not be recognized. The amber liquid burned its path down his throat and into his stomach, speeding up his process of warming up. His gut did not react as it had earlier, and for that he was glad. He pushed his glass forward, indicating he wanted another. The bartender obliged, still unquestioning, though obviously curious. Harry couldn't help but notice that every eye had remained trained on him since he had entered the bar.

He swirled the liquid in his glass, not downing it immediately this time. He felt out of place, not knowing exactly where he was. He could change that. He breathed deeply and stared intently at the back of the bartender's head, now attending to two women who had just entered. Harry pushed his mind outwards, focusing his thoughts towards the bartender. He felt the exact moment that his mind entered the bartender's, it's unfamiliar thought pattern feeling strange and foreign, the same as always.

Harry rummaged through a lot of useless information before he came upon what he was searching for, a location, an address. Prince Rupert, that was the name of the town. A small, extremely remote fishing town located on the West coast of British Columbia, near the Alaskan border. Population: under 15,000. It was perfect.

Harry pulled himself out of the man's thoughts, resuming his inspection of his drink. He drank it down as the bartender came back, motioning for yet another.

"You're gonna wanna pace yourself, kid, the rate you're going." the bartender remarked, hesitant to give him another drink.

Harry's intense stare seemed to easily convince him that he needed another. "Perhaps you can help me." Harry continued to stare. The bartender nodded. "I just got here today and I'm looking for a job and a place to stay. Know of anything?"

The bartender smiled, almost looked amused as he looked at Harry's small body concealed under the large black coat. He turned his attention away from Harry and over to one of the regulars sitting at a table with a few other men. "Hey, Jack, come on over here for a bit."

A large, burly blond man stood from the table, beer in hand, and approached the bar. He couldn't be any older than thirty five. He had obviously just come from work, still wearing his bright yellow rubber overalls. He sat on the stool next to Harry. Harry was sure that this man looked intimidating to most others, but after all the encounters with Voldemort and Death Eaters, he didn't inspire the usual scare factor. "What's up, Sam?" He looked over at Harry. "Who's the new kid?"

"I'm looking for a job and a place to stay." Harry replied bluntly, looking Jack in the eyes. Harry realized he must have let his face relax slightly when Jack didn't seem to take him seriously right away.

Jack smiled obligingly at him. "No offence, kid, but you don't look so healthy. You think you can hack it? It's hard work over here, mostly hauling nets and pots."

Harry cracked a grin, smirking out of the corner of his mouth. He removed his coat, at least he was warm now. He folded it in half and laid it on the stool next to him, resting his forearms on the bar. His shirt was tight, showing off the powerful muscles hidden beneath the surface of his back and arms. Harry could see Jack particularly admiring a long scar that ran along Harry's left bicep. "I had a long day of travelling, I'm tired, that's all." Harry tried to explain the exhaustion that was written all over his face.

Jack pretended to back off a little. "Whoah." He raised his arms in mock surrender. "I take it back." He laughed. "What kind of work are you looking for? I could use a strong guy like you." Jack's face looked hopeful.

"Doesn't make a shit bit of difference to me what the work is." Harry replied, chuckling lightly.

"Now that's the kind of attitude I like!" Jack laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "What's your name, kid? When do you want to start?"

"Name's Damien. Damien Evans. Tomorrow wouldn't be soon enough."

Jack scratched his head. "Well, it's Saturday night," 'Was it?' Harry thought. He hadn't kept track of the days in quite some time, "why don't you show up first thing Monday morning, 8am, down at the docks. It'll give you a day to get some rest, get settled in. Looks like you could use a good night's sleep first. Jetlag?" He ventured a guess.

Harry just nodded in agreement. It wasn't likely he would get a good night's sleep no matter how exhausted or jet lagged he was.

"Now, you're from England, right? Do you have a work visa, or do you-"

Harry absently reached over to his jacket again and hastily conjured all his required paperwork, drivers license, work visa and passport. He flashed them towards Jack. He didn't need to inspect them now.

"Good." Jack smiled. "Saves me the paperwork. Seeing as you're from the UK, at least our weather won't bother you. Rainiest city in Canada, we are here." He laughed. "Shit, you still need a place to stay, don't you. Well, Lorraine usually has a few places for rent, but it's a bit late to see her tonight. I'd stay in the motel tonight and pop by to see her tomorrow. It'll give you a chance to check out the town, too. Not that there's much here of course, nothing like where you're from, probably. You from-"

"London." Harry responded flatly.

"Hoo-wee, definitely nothing like London here." He laughed again. "Been there once. That city is a maze, never got used to all the streets. Grew up here, mind you, so I'm a bit spoiled with two main roads and a wide open ocean before me." He wrote some information down on a piece of paper that Sam the bartender gave him and handed it to Harry. "Do you want to discuss pay at all?"

"No. As long as it'll pay my rent and buy me food, I really don't care about anything else." Really, Harry could conjure all the money he would ever need, but he had to keep up the ruse he had begun, and he wanted to live here on as little magic as possible.

"Good to hear."

Harry stood from the stool and donned his jacket. He turned to leave, nodding slightly at Sam and Jack.

"Need your change?" Sam asked, holding a blue five dollar bill and a few coins out to Harry.

Harry shook his head and kept walking. "Consider it a down payment for tomorrow."

Both men chuckled as Harry walked away, flipping up his collar, preparing himself for the biting cold.

"Hey, Damien." Jack called. Harry turned back around. "You might want to invest in some cold weather clothing. You'll catch your death out here."

Harry almost could not contain his bitter laughter. Wouldn't that just take the cake? Fight with Voldemort for his entire life, almost being killed on numerous occasions, and dying because of the cold weather. He would prefer it that way,. He shook his head and walked out the door into the cold, black night.

Jack turned back to face Sam. "Well, that was... interesting. don't you think? Was it just me, or was that kid a little... strange?"

"Yeah. Something about him just seemed, off, or something." Sam agreed.

"Hell of a frame on him though, you see his arms?"

Sam laughed. "Remind me to never piss him off and I think we'll be fine."

The two men laughed and shared a drink. Harry would be the talk of the bar for a while to come, his strange mannerisms never quite rubbing the city the right way.

Harry found his way easily to the motel, nothing was too far apart in this town, it was a plus. the check-in clerk gave him a strange look when he didn't have a bag or luggage to take to his room, but didn't have the guts to ask Harry about it, he was too intimidated. Harry retreated from the desk the moment he was given his magnetic keycard, not responding to any of the further questions the clerk was still asking him.

Harry needed silence, his frustration level was rising. It had been too long since he had been around people on a regular basis, he would have to get used to human interaction again.

He didn't even turn on the light when he entered the room, the faint light creeping in from the street lights was enough for him to see. He did a quick round of the room, his paranoia about things lying in wait for him still present. He shook his head, trying to remind himself that there was nothing here to get him. Nobody knew where he was. Nobody would ever find him.

He unstrapped the sword and gun from his hip, placing the gun on the night stand beside the bed and propping the sword up on the armchair next to the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. He opened the sliding glass door to the balcony and leaned on the rail, lighting up a cigarette. There was just enough light in the city still that he could see the faint reflections of light glimmering off the surface of the ocean.

He let the cold air envelop him, the coldness on his skin soon matching the coldness he felt on the inside. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighed. Already, he could not get the haunting image of Draco's eyes out of his mind. There was no way he'd be able to sleep tonight without nightmares.

Harry finished his cigarette and combed his hand through his still wet hair. He shut the sliding door behind him on his way back in.

He removed his shirt and pants, stiffening slightly when the shirt stuck to the now healing wound on his side. It had finally begun to scab over, there was no danger of it pulling open anymore. He contemplated getting in the shower, but he simply didn't have the energy. Sliding under the covers of the comfortable bed, Harry pulled the blankets high under his chin, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, trying to keep his warmth close.

He reached up to the hollow on his neck, expecting to find the horn pendant that normally hung there, and was surprised to find his neck bare. He forgot. He had left it behind. Harry closed his eyes and instantly the stormy grey eyes of Draco returned. Harry's eyes snapped open again. How was he ever going to do this?

Harry arose the next morning, his head in a fog. He hadn't slept. He hadn't expected to. He had re-dressed and headed out into the town, wandering absently, becoming familiar with his surroundings. There really wasn't much there, and that calmed him a little. He easily found the address of the woman he was told would rent him a place to stay. He knocked on her door.

He heard bustling footsteps from just inside the door and moments later the door flew open, revealing a slightly plump, worn looking, middle aged woman. She wore a warm, easy smile on her face and ushered him inside. Jack had told her that he was coming.

Harry stepped slowly into her home, his heavy boots sounding loudly on the old wood floors. Her house was filled with the kind of useless knick knacks that only served to make a house more welcoming. He followed her into the kitchen, where there was a nice, hot pot of tea waiting.

"Please, sit." She motioned to a chair by the kitchen table. Harry sat, flapping his coat out behind him and inconspicuously adjusting the invisible sword at his side. He certainly wasn't going to leave that in the motel room. "It's Damien, right?"

"Yes." Harry responded simply, sipping the warm beverage.

"Well, welcome to town Damien. I understand you're looking for a place to stay? What brought you here?" She asked cheerfully, curious for information. Her warm face and cheery manner reminded Harry far too much of Mrs. Weasley. He found it slightly unnerving.

Harry's jaw clenched as he thought of the reasons behind his departure, trying to push those unwanted thoughts to the back of his mind. "My reasons for leaving, are certainly not the concern of anyone here, nor will they ever be for that matter." Harry replied coldly.

"I'm sorry, dear, I didn't mean to pry." Lorraine's face fell and she looked truly apologetic.

Harry's face relaxed and he rubbed his forehead, his scar was tingling slightly, it had been doing so fairly constantly for the last twenty-four hours. He supposed he would have to make an effort to get along with these people, he couldn't see himself leaving here anytime soon. He waved his hand at her, dismissing her apology. "I'm sorry. My leaving London is a touchy subject." Harry put on a fake smile to reassure her. It worked.

She shook her head. "Oh, how silly of me, I never even properly introduced myself. My name's Lorraine Herberts, usually everyone just calls me Lorri." She stuck out her hand and Harry shook it.

During the time their hands were connected, Harry took the opportunity to have a look in her mind, just out of curiosity. She was a genuinely kind person with a sharp wit buried deep down. Harry was sure they would get along.

They soon found a place for Harry to stay. A little detached house on the south side of town. The large front window faced out West, the faint outline of Digby Island visible across the 2km expanse of sea separating them. The rent was good, the house semi-secluded. It was a little run down, but that didn't really matter to Harry. It even came already furnished, though sparsely, saving Harry the trouble of buying furniture he could have easily just conjured.

Lorri had stuck around, trying to help Harry get settled, her mothering tendencies taking over. She seemed to feel that Harry was in need of human contact, and whether he wanted it or not, she was there to provide it. This, surprisingly, didn't make Harry feel uncomfortable, though he did still usher her out as soon as possible.

Once he was alone in the house he unstrapped his weapons, placing them, still concealed, in his bedroom.

Now desperately in need of a shower, he trudged into the bathroom and stripped down. He stood in the shower for nearly an hour, the water becoming cold, the water pounding down hard on his back. He still managed to keep his mind empty.

Something was going to have to change. Harry's mind was too full of unwanted thoughts, there were too many things to dwell on in his solitude.

He shut the shower off forcefully and stepped out, his soaking hair falling down into his eyes. He quickly dried and pulled his clothes back on. He stormed out of the house as soon as he was clothed, walking quickly towards the bar where he had first made himself known the previous night.

His first day of work had been just as he expected. Jack had tested him with menial tasks all day, seeing just what his new guy could do. He had, of course, been extremely surprised with Harry's strength and unbridled work ethic, praising him at every step of the way.

"I might even let you go out on the boat trips if you keep this up, Damien." Jack had joked after the end of a shift as they sat in the bar, sharing a round of drinks.

Harry fell easily into his new routine, working, going to the bar, going home. He spoke to very few people, Lorri and Jack were the exceptions. Harry was sure that his co-workers were decent enough, he just couldn't make himself care enough to try and hold a conversation with them. Their worries were just so mundane. He couldn't help comparing their lives to his own and he found their daily complaints of hardships just too absurd to be worth acknowledging.

His one exception to this group was a kid he worked with the most on a daily basis. His name was Lucas and he was eighteen. Harry had taken to listening into everyone's minds, he told himself only to evaluate their personalities, but really, deep down, because he was paranoid, on the lookout for anything or anyone who might cause him trouble. Lucas' was simple, the thoughts in his head no different from what he said out loud. He was shy and awkward, and in a strange way, reminded Harry of himself when he was younger. He would almost say that he enjoyed Lucas' company.

His normal routine had not been broken either. He still did not sleep. He was still haunted in the night time hours by the nightmares that had plagued him for years. Flashbacks, visions, memories of all kinds, flooded him relentlessly.

Voldemort still searched for him fervently, the violence in the wizarding world growing worse and worse. Many died every day.

Voldemort's resistance to death still perplexed Harry, boiled his rage. He had killed Nagini, the one remaining horcrux! How could he not have died that day? The sword of Gryffindor had pierced Voldemort right through the heart, and yet he still stood, unharmed.

Analysing this was what occupied most of Harry's errant thoughts.

Though these visions were terrifying, haunting and unbearable, they didn't compare to the one thing truly eating away at him.

Those eyes still refused to leave him, staring at him intently every time he closed his eyes, their despair and desperation boring into him. Draco's eyes. Harry had thought this would pass, that they would fade the longer he was away, the more he drank, the harder he worked, the more he tried to find someone who could ease his pain, if only for one night.

It didn't work.

They never left.