***This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.***

Warnings: Mild violence/ Coarse Language (As always, this work is un-beta's, so any and all errors are the fault of the hair-brained author... me!)

Harry awoke to the shooting pain of sunlight piercing his eyelids. He grimaced, raising a hand to shield his eyes, the sudden movement causing him to notice the warm weight on his chest. He looked down to see an arm draped across his bare torso; a thin, freckled arm. He pressed the hand meant for his eyes over his mouth as his eyes followed the pale limb to the mass of comforter next to him; he held his breath as he lifted the edge to glimpse at his bed partner.

"What the fuck!?" he screamed as he scrambled backward, his legs tangling in the sheets in his haste; he reached for his pillow, but it was no use, the fluffy headrest went with him as his bare arse hit the cold floor, hard.

Ginny groaned, her hand sweeping over the empty space next to her. "Harry?" she asked groggily as her head popped up from under the covers. "Babe?"

Harry sat on the floor, staring at the pillow in his hand, trying to recall what had happened the night before. He remembered he had been upset about Draco… he had spent a while brooding by the fire… Ginny had come to talk with him… she had brought him tea…

The tea.

"Get up." he said quietly, but firmly from his place on the floor.

"Mmm… good morning to you too Mr. Grumpy." Ginny smiled as she stretched.

"I said get up." Harry said again as he stood, clutching the pillow to himself.

Ginny looked up at him, her smile disintegrating to a look of confusion as she sat up and wrapped the sheet around herself. "Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry clenched his jaw in an attempt to keep from screaming at her. How could she sit there and ask him that question; did she think he didn't know? "Where are my clothes Ginny?" he asked, his voice cold.

Ginny recoiled as though he had struck her, her eyes widening in fear as she took in the glint in his eyes and the deceptive calm of his voice. She swallowed hard as she pointed to the foot of the bed.

"And yours?" Harry asked in that same detached manner; he watched as she pointed to her side of the bed. "Get them, get dressed, and get out." he said as he walked to the end of the bed and retrieved his denims.

"Harry I… I don't understand…"Ginny stuttered to a halt as Harry looked back at her.

"I'll say it more slowly this time then, shall I; get your clothes… get dressed… and get out." he whispered.

Ginny sat staring at him, her lips trembling as her eyes welled up with tears. "Harry… please…" she whispered slowly, trying to speak around the growing lump in her throat. "I… I won't tell Charlie. I swear, just… just tell me what I did wrong, and…"

"Oh stop playing so fucking innocent!" Harry yelled as every picture frame on his mantle shattered; Ginny whined pitifully as she felt the air in the room shift. "How could you… I don't even know what to say to you!"

"Harry I… I don't… understand." she cried.

Harry looked at her, his anger and disgust evident in his glare. "I'm going to go shower. I think it would be best for both of us if you weren't here when I got out." he whispered. "Now get your clothes, and get out." he said as he turned and headed for the washroom. "And Ginny?" he called as he opened the door, "I don't think I should see you for a few days." he said quietly as he closed the door behind himself.

Ginny sat there, staring at the door he had just gone through, listening as the taps were turned on. She slid slowly from the bed, picking up her clothes and slipping them on as she replayed the night before in her mind.

Harry had been resistant at first, and she knew she had been pretty forward, but she had been willing to take that chance. She loved Harry, she always had, and she knew Harry loved her; he was just confused. She knew she was going to have to push just a little, and she had, and he had responded just like she knew he would. But now… she didn't know what was going on; he was like a totally different person this morning.

She bit her lip, deciding she had cried enough as she walked over to the fireplace. Shards of glass were everywhere; she tip-toed through the mess, brushing a few pieces aside as she reached for one of the mangled frames. There was a muggle photo inside; a picture of Harry and herself together on her birthday two years previous. He had taken her to muggle London for the day, promising to do whatever she wanted. They had spent most of it shopping and eating various unhealthy fried things and had even gone to the cinema; it was the greatest day of her life. She stared at the picture; Harry had his arm slung around her neck, his lips pressed to her cheek as he held the camera out; her eyes were crossed as she stuck out her tongue. They were both smiling.

She jumped as a loud crash sounded from the washroom followed by a string of curses, all muffled through the shower spray; Ginny hissed as she looked down, realizing she had stepped on a rather large piece of glass. "Shit." she whispered as she hobbled over to the sofa and sat down, bringing her leg up to survey the damage.

It was a pretty jagged piece and looked to have sunk about three centimeters into her heel. She sighed, setting her jaw as she wrapped her fingers around the protrusion and pulled it free in one swift motion. "Fuck!" she screamed as she threw the bloody shard across the room. She stood, pain shooting up her leg as she grabbed the picture and limped out the door, slamming it behind herself. She needed to find Ron.

~*~

Harry snapped the door shut and walked to the old pocelain tub, shedding his denims as he went. He turned the tap as hot as he could stand it and stepped inside, pulling the curtain around as he rested his head against the shower stem. The hot water cut through his hair, burning his scalp as he bared the back of his neck and shoulders to the spray. He hadn't realized he was crying until he heard his sobs echoing around the room; he grimaced as he fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

It had been years since he had lost control of his magic like that, and Draco had been the only one to witness it then.

Draco...

He knew Draco should be the least of his concerns at the moment, but he couldn't help it. One of his closest friends, a woman he loved more than he could say, had just drugged him for sex. He refused to think of it as rape... his body had been more than willing, but... He shuddered, choking back another sob; and the only person he wanted to talk to about this, the only person he could talk to about it, the person he neededto talk to the most wasn't speaking to him. Draco didn't even speak to him directly anymore. Outside of a friendly greeting at the breakfast table, or the time they spent training, which was mostly chanting and meditation anyway, he was reduced to sitting through conversations between himself, Hermione and Draco, or himself, the twins and Draco; never just he and Draco alone. How he clung to those brief "hello's" in the morning, those sad smiles that accompanied them, and the look of regret in those beautiful eyes. All because Ron couldn't let it go.

In a way, Harry understood where Ron was coming from. Draco had been more than hurtful toward them all as children, he was brutal; but that was the thing, they were children.

They were twelve years old, at the beginning of second year when Draco had come to him, begging for his forgiveness, for his help. Harry had thought it was a joke at first, but Draco worked hard to prove his sincerity and by the time Christmas hols had come around he and Harry had forged a tentative friendship. Pansy and Blaise followed suite; followed by Theo Nott; though they were the only Slytherins to openly side with Harry and his friends.

By the beginning of third year, word had spread, associations had been made known, and battle lines had been drawn; and when given the ultimatum of death sentence or Death Eater, Draco made his choice and never looked back. He earned not only the respect, but the trust of the side of the Light that day... everyone but Ron, and to some extint, Ginny. Harry wasn't happy about it, but it seemed the only options a Weasley had when it came to showing their dislike for someone was either complete and total dismissal or outright aggression; Ginny chose the former, but Ron...

Harry didn't know what to do with him anymore. They had been best friends once, but their relationship had become strained over the last few years as Harry had gotten closer to Draco. At first he thought it was just jealousy, perhaps even insecuirty; but no matter what excuses he threw Draco's way Harry knew the truth; Ron simply hated him, and there was nothing and no one that would change his mind.

Harry knew now what he should have done. He should have stood up for his friend, for the man he loved; instead he let Draco walk away. He willingly gave up the most meaningful relationship of his life, a relationship that could have grown into something so much more, for the angry and bitter remains of what used to be a friendship with a good man.

That was it really; Ron simply wasn't the man he should have been, and it broke Harry's heart to admit it. He was angry, and vengeful... violent. If Harry was honest with himself he could admit that their friendship was in ruins long before Draco had walked out on him, but he had foolishly tried to salvage it; he had tried to save his friend. But now, he was beginning to realize... some people just couldn't be saved.

Harry shook his head as he ran his fingers through his hair; his scalp was burned and sore. He needed to get up, to get out of the shower and go do whatever it was he was supposed to be doing today... he just wasn't sure how to do that. Was he supposed to just go about his business as usual; to ignore Ginny and pretend she hadn't betrayed his trust, that she hadn't violated him; to sit next to Ron at the breakfast table and pretend they were still innocent pre-teens, unaffected by the the war and the death and the fear and hatred it had spawned inside him; to sit quietly by as Draco pulled further and further away, taking with him every chance either of them had at a life together... he didn't know.

He felt his anger building as the weight of it all seemed to settle in on him for the first time. The enormity of it was almost tangible; he couldn't breath. He tried to remember his mantras for peace, for guidance, for strength; but his mind was blank in the face of his despair and his anger. He felt he was on the edge of something; something dark and deep and heavy. The curtain rippled in the stillness of the room; Harry took a deep breath and the bathtub vibrated for one brief second before it simply fell apart; huge chunks of heavy porcelain crashed against the tiled floor as water continued to stream from the shower head. Harry screamed as he jumped up, his fingers twisting his hair into knots as he let out a string of profanities. He hadn't realized he was moving until his back hit the wall; he slid down it and stayed there.

Author's Note: I know, a lot of angst. But I wouldn't make you all suffer through it if it wasn't absolutely necessary. : ) Anyway, let me know what you think. Chapter five should be up soon! Review, Review, Review... and thanks for reading!

-Peace