As you can see, this fic is rated M, and with good reason, so if this makes you uncomfortable, I don't suggest you continue to read this.

Credit to Batmarcus, who helped with this chapter, who gave me an idea and then was forced to help.

Chapter 2: Blue

Daphne and Harry headed home. He was annoyed with her; she was bothering him and his plans he'd made for that night. Now he had to start all over! He'd wanted to do it before Dumbledore arrived, and now his perfect timing was screwed up!

He was so close, everything had been planned, and now his plans were thrown out the window. Everything has a symbolic meaning, even! He felt like slapping her in the face, but he would never hit a woman.

All the time he'd spent thinking on it… wasted!

A light flickered in his mind. Not… not necessarily. He could go through with it; he just needed to get her to sleep before he carried it out. He would borrow some of Aunt Petunia's sleeping pills (if he used his own sleeping pills, it would make her an accomplice, and he made sure his aunt was clean by flushing her pills down the toilet) and, under the farce of friendship, he'd give her a cup of coffee or tea with the pills dissolved in it. He'd just pour in a lot of sugar to cover the taste. He really hoped she wasn't one of those girls who always obsessed about their weight.

He gave a rueful smile at his thoughts. This was bad. It was awful. Harry wasn't one to give up easily, he was a Gryffindor; they weren't this cowardly. If the hero gave up... the battle was already lost; and not just the battle, but with it the entire war.

But enough was enough.

He knew he was acting differently than he acted normally, but now he could blame it on fatigue and insomnia. It wasn't a complete lie, he was tired and hadn't slept for nearly two nights, but he was not so tired that he would be nice to Greengrass, who was, in fact, a complete stranger to him. They barely spoke at Hogwarts, and he knew only what he heard.

And they both knew that the rumours spread at Hogwarts weren't something to truly listen to: Harry Potter, the new dark wizard and Daphne Greengrass, the Zabini slut.

He was distracted. He imagined this was what Hermione felt like most days, her brain busy with solutions for every problem whilst dealing with him and Ron. He felt pity for her; she usually had to get them out of trouble.

He hadn't heard anything from either of his friends all summer. The only letter he'd received was from Dumbledore. Harry had started to believe that his friends had abandoned him – that was what made it easier to start planning. If he was alone, no one would miss him. His relatives certainly wouldn't… okay, Dudley might feel a bit guilty…

In a gallant gesture he opened the door for Daphne to enter before going in himself; a Gryffindor until the last minute.

Vernon Dursley was home. Harry groaned – it was just what he needed: his walrus of an uncle to poke his overcrowded nostrils into his matters. Daphne heard the groan and turned to look at him, raising a playful eyebrow. He scowled, his already shadowed face withdrawing into darkness even more.

"It's my uncle." Harry explained, gesturing towards the living room. Better face it now than later.

Petunia had already alarmed him to the presence of the girl, it seemed; his face was Harry's favourite shade of red when his uncle spotted them. Harry felt like commenting on it, but the way his uncle's Adam's apple bounced drew his attention away. That thing was huge! Up, down, up, down…

"Boy!" Vernon yelled as it moved up again. Harry didn't feel like being strangled to death at that very moment, so Harry did something that Vernon didn't expect. He drew his eyes away from Vernon's massive Adam's apple and focused on his right eye.

"Boy!" Harry yelled back, shocking his uncle. Harry wanted to laugh at the expression on his uncle's face.

"You know how much money we've invested in you? You're an ungrateful little swine that will end up like his drunk of a father! You've lived under our roof, ate our food, used our electricity, hurt our Dudley…" Vernon went on, only for Harry to cut across him.

"Yada yada, bang bang," Harry screamed, making gun gestures at the last two words, "Congratulations, I win a blow up dart board, Uncle Vernon!"

Harry had no idea what the heck just had happened, but he liked it, and it was funny to boot. He wouldn't have another moment like that again, sadly. He liked having the balls to stand up to his uncle.

Silence reigned victorious in the living room. Uncle Vernon's face wasn't red anymore, and Harry wanted to comment on it, but it was turning a dashing plum that might just become his new favourite colour if things went on this way.

Dudley burst out laughing.

"Harry, that was brilliant!" He whooped, keeping a wary eye on Vernon. Vernon, seeing his son's reaction, relaxed a little bit, seeing as after what had happened at his son's school, Dudley deserved some sort of joy. Why he never came to that conclusion with his nephew, though, was beyond anyone's means of understanding.

Harry stared as his uncle gave no reaction. What was this world coming to? He'd had such a brilliant moment of wit, and now it was to go unpunished? Harry was feeling as if he could and should do anything he wanted to. He felt like he could face Voldemort and trade witty jabs with the lunatic. He felt strong and cocky, ironically, since it was weakness and depression that drove him to this.

"Did I break him?" Harry asked carefully. Vernon promptly ignored him, not surprisingly.

Dudley shook his head, "No, I did. Harry, can I talk to you?" He shot a look at Daphne.

"Alone." He added, emphasising his need to speak where they could not be heard.

Harry was taken aback and completely befuddled. What the heck was going on? He was supposed to act out of character, not the others. First Greengrass appeared, in very little and having been disowned, then Dudley was nice and smart, and now his uncle wasn't attempting to throttle him? He was fully expecting his Aunt Petunia to bring him bacon she'd cooked herself.

Had he stepped into a different dimension where he was evil and Voldemort the good guy? He would be all over that. He had a rather good evil laugh he'd been working on.

"Harry?" Dudley waved his beefy hand in front of Harry's face. Harry then studied his hand; it wasn't as beefy as it had been last time. Actually, Dudley had lost a lot of weight.

Harry really looked at his cousin for the first time. Dudley didn't look like a grunting hog anymore; he looked like a starving buffalo.

Harry liked animal metaphors, all right? He always classified someone according to animals when he met them. Hermione was an owl, Ron a hound, Luna was a sleepy cat, Neville a shy mouse, Ginny was a salamander, Malfoy was an albino peacock (though he thought Moody did a good job of classifying him as a ferret), Mrs Weasley was a large bear and Mr Weasley a little fish (Mrs Weasley would one day gobble her husband up, or that was how Harry had seen it when he was eleven).

"Harry!" Harry jumped at Dudley's yell.

"What?" Harry demanded, seeing Daphne and his uncle ogle him, "Oh, right, talk… let's go!"

Harry strode up the stairs to Dudley's room, hoping Daphne had the brains to follow him and stay as far away from Vernon Dursley as she possibly could.

Two pairs of feet following him up the stairway confirmed his suspicion. He breathed a small sigh of relief.

"I'll go to your room, shall I?" Daphne said kindly and went ahead without waiting for an answer. He watched her go, and blushed when he caught himself looking at her behind.

"And we'll go to my room," Dudley said, gulping before leading the way. Harry frowned, Dudley just gulped. He'd never seen the other boy do that before.

"Okay, I know you're wondering why I'm friendly all of a sudden," Dudley started as soon as his bedroom door was closed, "and it's because I finally realised that how I've been treating you is the same way I've been treated at school. Only I never…" Dudley broke off.

"Dudley, what did they do to you?" Harry asked, a bit on the cautious side.

"They had their filthy hands all over me!" Dudley said, "Harry, you don't know what it's like…"

Harry was appalled. Scared. Disgusted.

"Dudley, what did they do there?" Harry heard himself ask, though he already had a pretty good idea. In contrary to popular belief, Harry wasn't entirely stupid. Why else would he describe the hands as filthy?

Dudley gave a grave smile before lifting an eyebrow, "What do you think?"

Harry blanched and shivered. They'd raped him. That's what Harry thought, it would make perfect sense.

"Dud… Dudley, did they… did they… rape... you?" Harry had difficulty getting the words out, because the idea struck him as impossible. Dudley was intimidating; he knew that too… maybe he'd overplayed his hand?

Dudley nodded his head, "Yeah. One did, and he swore that he'd kill me if anyone found out."

Harry's mouth fell open, "And?"

"Harry, I'm not entirely stupid" Dudley broke out, "I bet that I wasn't the only one he'd done it to, so I took action." He said resolutely.

"Then you are much braver than I thought." Harry said bluntly. Daphne was right when she said he had no tact.

"Wow, thanks Harry," Dudley said sarcastically, "look, I wasn't a very nice person to you all those years, and...well despite all that you saved my life, I want to say thank you and that I'm sorry."

"Dudley – you're not an illiterate buffoon." Harry mused, causing Dudley to roll his eyes.

"I decided to do what I want, all right?" Dudley was getting annoyed, Harry enjoyed this side of Dudley, "This must be very shocking for you, but I have a mind of my own."

Harry laughed. He hadn't laughed a real laugh in quite a while, and it sounded odd in his own ears. Not to mention his laughter turned into a coughing fit.

"I'm sorry; this is such a new side to you. I always thought you were a pig with a wig, but now I see a possible politician." Harry tried to keep a straight face, but failed. Dudley's lips quirked, but he didn't elaborate.

Harry calmed down, enough to let the words Dudley said sink in.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Harry said sincerely, he hadn't had that experience first-hand, but he knew enough to know it was awful

"No-one deserves that."

"Nor does anyone deserve what I've put you through," Dudley persisted, wringing his fingers together tightly, "and I'm sorry." He put a hand forward, as a sign of peace.

"So am I." Harry admitted, taking his cousin's outstretched hand. They shook and shared a bitter smile before Harry excused himself.

…

That wasn't all that had happened to Dudley though, and while he knew it wasn't normal for someone to share what had happened to him as if it was simple gossip, he didn't exactly care. He wanted others to know that bullying was real and scary, worse than anything he had ever done to Harry. He felt that maybe he deserved it, because he had been doing it for years to his cousin, a kind of twisted karma if you will.

He had been one of the big guys on campus and everyone was terrified of him. That was why, when he found himself a victim of rape, he lost all status. He learned that teenagers were cruel beasts, because they pushed him around, forgetting that he was a boxing champion and twice their size.

Soon all that changed. Dudley fell into a deep depression. He refused to eat, refused to go to boxing practice. His friends stared to worry about him. Yes, he had those, three named Peter, Ivan and Marcus; they were concerned about him because Dudley never gave up. If he was one thing, it was stupidly stubborn.

Peter was his roommate in the hostel. He noticed the lost weight first, and then he saw marks on Dudley's arm. He didn't talk to Dudley about it, but he didn't exactly know what to do either, so he spoke with the other two – and the decision was unanimous: intervention.

That night he came across a bloody Dudley, his breathing shallow, a note taped to the bedpost. He acted quickly. And Dudley got to know what true friendship felt like.

Dudley smiled a bit. When he got back to school in the new year, he'd be at the top of his game and back to being the champion boxer. He would make a case against his attacker and force the others to admit what he'd done to them. He would be in shape instead of overweight – he took the diet his teachers had put him on the previous year seriously this time. He wouldn't let anyone walk over him again.

Because sometimes life decides to knock you down, but it's in order to make you a better man.

. . .

Harry shook his head. Unbelievable! Bloody unbelievable! That just showed you, no one was safe. And Dudley could use sarcasm effectively, meaning he was far more developed as a person than Harry had ever thought. He was no Snape of course, that expertise could only come from years of experience. Draco would be there in a few years.

Harry ventured to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He'd hidden his 'tools' here, under the basin and out of sight. He drew them out again to make sure no one had touched them – and they were untouched, unseen and unheard of. Two bottles should be enough shouldn't it?

He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing a very pale and sunken face looking back at him. Everyone always told him that he had his mother's eyes, but they seemed to lack a certain spirit. Harry smiled to himself grimly. He stopped, because it looked more like a grimace.

Now he just to get Daphne to fall asleep...

He scurried to his aunt and uncle's room after making sure they were still downstairs, fishing out two sleeping pills before scurrying down to make tea. He didn't know how she took it, so he just put in milk and hoped she'd be sated.

"Boy!" Vernon called him. Harry sighed and hung his head before picking up the tiny cup and sticking his head into the living room on his way to his bedroom.

"My name is Harry," Harry said coldly "What?"

"Don't mouth off to me!" Vernon yelled at him. There was Harry's favourite shade of red again! Harry rolled his eyes again, knowing it would irk his uncle greatly. He was testing his newfound immortality.

"Then don't treat me like an animal," Harry found himself saying. "Treat me like you have never treated me before, with respect, and I'll give you some in return, if you've earned it." Harry had to add the last part; the temptation was just too much.

He was acting a lot more recklessly as of late, and while that might be Gryffindor trait, the things he was saying were more in the line of what a Slytherin would say. The words were cruel and hurtful, but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. It would all be over soon, anyways.

Harry Potter had lost all hope. And that was dangerous.

"This girl…" His uncle started.

"Is my girlfriend from school, yes, and she is not insane, I assure you." Harry said calmly, turning around and heading up the stairs with the tea, ignoring his uncle's calls.

He wondered what Daphne would do when she found him in the morning.

He prodded his bedroom door open with a foot. She was seated on his bed, already out of her day clothes and back in the tight shirt and shorts.

He extended the hand with the cup towards her. She took it, surprised, with a quiet thank you. He didn't see her eyes narrowing.

He turned around briefly and found a matrass, tossing a pillow and blanket on top of it. He wouldn't need it, it was just for show. As soon as she was asleep, he would sneak out. There was no doubt in his mind that she would try to stop him if she knew. She was that way, or that was what he deduced from her actions against her father.

She set her cup down and left for the loo. Harry peeked inside it to see she hadn't taken a sip yet. He groaned, frustrated, she would ruin his plan! He needed to find a way to get her to drink the tea.

"Damn." He muttered to himself, running his hands through his hair, feeling that his hair was in need of a wash.

"Muttering to yourself, Potter?" Daphne asked, back from the loo, though her fingers were shaking the tiniest bit. Harry shook it off, why would she be shaking?

"Yeah." He answered carefully, as if to say 'so?'.

"Going to sleep?" She asked next, and this time he was sure he heard a nervous edge in her voice. He was growing a bit suspicious, but he would shake it off for now, soon it would be over.

"Yeah, in a little while." He said airily.

She yawned and climbed onto his bed, "Well, I'll head on." She curled into a ball, not even bothering to get under the covers.

Harry smiled, maybe he didn't even need her to drink the tea. He knew he should force her to drink it, maybe guilt her into it, but if she was doing it out of her own… she could still ruin his plans.

He waited a half hour, to make sure she was asleep, making sure her breath was low, slow and even and her body made no jerky movements. He always knew people were awake when they shook their feet, it was a dead giveaway.

He stood up and headed for the bathroom. He got the white bag from underneath the basin and returned to his room. He didn't know why he didn't just do it in the bathroom, maybe because he didn't want to be found dead on a toilet? He had some dignity, after all.

The bag was full of different kinds of sleeping pills. He'd been buying them throughout the summer and hid them from his family. Harry intended to take them all tonight. He didn't even take a glass of water with him to help the process of swallowing.

His thoughts turned dark... but he didn't want to think of any of it. Of Sirius being gone, of the Dark Lord being back, of the horrible nightmares invading his mind night in and night out, convincing him he wasn't fit for the job of saving the wizarding world...

But since when did thoughts ever listen?

He missed his godfather. It was barely about two months, and just thinking of him made Harry's heart ache with a pain he couldn't handle. He had no one to turn to, no one older than him to confide in. Hermione and Ron were great, but Harry needed a fatherly figure. It hurt so much that his parents weren't there with him. He heard his own breath coming out heavily, and hot tears sliding down his cheeks. It was so unfair!

The last night Harry had slept he'd had a dream: a dream that Sirius was waiting for him at Grimmauld Place. Harry had stared at Sirius, then he ran forward and hugged Sirius as tightly as he possibly could; sobbing into the older man's coat, while Fred and George were laughing at him, not understanding why he was crying. But Harry refused to let go.

Sirius had patted his head, gently withdrawing from the tight embrace, and he took Harry's arm and they walked. They somehow ended up in the gardens of Hogwarts, but Harry didn't care, he didn't stop looking at Sirius, his heart banging with joy. The two of them walked around and just talked, talked about nonsense, like Harry's homework, Hermione's stupid presents that was always an attempt to make him study harder or to get organised, or Ron's newest favourite food.

Then Harry woke up. He'd screamed into the darkness of the night, not caring if he woke his relatives up, out of sheer frustration, and tears spilled onto his face continuously, trying to soften the pain of the gaping hole that was new in Harry's chest.

Whose idea was this? Whose fucking screwed up idea was this? He had had Sirius back, even for the tiniest while, but they'd talked, and he'd hugged Sirius, and now Sirius was gone again?

It was sick. Harry was disgusted with sleep after that and decided that the next time he slept, it would be the last time. It was as if he'd lost Sirius again, the pain was new and ten times worse than they had been the first time he lost Sirius, because he'd been given false hope. He wanted nothing more than to join Sirius, because he wouldn't be able to lose him a third time.

And not to mention Voldemort. The wizarding world probably decided Harry was good enough again after a year of calling him a liar and belittling him at every chance they got. He was done. It was bullshit – he wasn't a pawn of them. And Dumbledore could go to hell for all he cared.

He broke the seal on the first bottle, opened it and took out two. He wanted to die in his sleep, after all, not choking on too many pills. He looked at the two tablets in his hand, his hand shaking violently. This was it. He was about to end it. Soon he would be with Sirius again. Maybe even his parents.

He tossed his head back and dropped the tablets onto his tongue, grimacing at the bitterness, and, at the last moment, drank it with Daphne's tea. He swallowed the capsules with difficulty, there was a lump in his throat.

He shook two more tablets onto his shaking hand, but he was tackled to the floor, the pills and the cup went flying. Limbs flailing everywhere, he had no idea what was going on. He looked up, seeing a mass of blonde hair that could only belong to his house guest.

"Get off me!" He growled. She laughed, pinning his arms above his head. What the… he thought she was asleep! How long had she been awake? Had she even been asleep in the first place? Probably not, she must've been suspecting something when he gave her the tea.

"No." She said firmly, leaning down. She was watching him closely, literally. Her eyes blurred in front of him, and he closed his eyes before struggling.

"Yes! Get off!" He yelled. He hoped he wouldn't disturb his relatives, them seeing his position would just top it off.

"I said no, Potter." She said again, leaving no room to argue. He was annoyed with her at this moment.

"Why not?" He moaned, quite childishly.

"I like the way you look in your boxers," She said, winking. Harry flushed, realizing she was dressed in very little, and that made him (and his boxers) suddenly very uncomfortable. He snapped out of his suicidal daze for the moment, feeling arousal course through his veins. He wasn't a rock, and Daphne Greengrass was a very pretty and curvaceous being.

"Daphne, get off." He looked away from her eyes, he wanted to force himself out of this state, force his erection down and go on with his plan.

"Daphne, is it?" She asked, lifting a playful eyebrow. Harry swore to himself, he hadn't even noticed that. Then again, when you just tried to kill yourself and suddenly a girl you never really traded words with was straddling you… all courtesy was gone.

"Yes! That is your name!" He yelled out, his erection wasn't going anywhere and the way she looked at him didn't help matters either.

"You've always called me Greengrass, though."

Harry sighed, feeling defeated. He'd been hoping to end it all tonight, but he hadn't wanted to make a mess of things, that's why he'd chosen the pills. Magic would alert the Ministry (and by extension, Dumbledore).

"I was hoping it would distract you." He lied. It was him that was distracted if anything.

She laughed, moving her hips lower, settling on his groin, "No, Potter."

He couldn't believe it. Moments ago he'd been planning his suicide... Now Daphne Greengrass was straddling him. Not that he didn't like it, but it was rather awkward.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice thick, his eyes clouded, though more in arousal than confusion, though confusion was there too.

"Aren't you enjoying this?" She asked with an innocent smile. Harry wanted to growl and snap at her, but she grinded into his groin again, and a low moan escaped his mouth. She was still about an inch away from his mouth.

"I'm distracting you," Daphne answered, her hot breath playing across his wet lips, "I can't let you kill yourself, Potter, this world needs you."

She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before slapping him over the head with a book, successfully knocking the already sleepy boy out.

. . .

Harry woke up hours later, disoriented, groggy and pissed off. He looked around, seeing he was on his bed, tucked under the covers, whilst someone was sitting near him, casting a shadow over him. A shadow at night time... that was scary.

"Harry?" She asked, concerned, leaning forward, her blonde hair swinging forwards. She looked exhausted and her hair was dishevelled. Harry liked her like this.

"Harry, is it?" He answered, confused. He couldn't remember what had happened, his head hurt too much.

"Yes, and forget the pills, I flushed them all." She said. Then he remembered.

"Daphne?" he asked tentatively.

"Are we going to be doing that permanently from now on?" She was teasing him; she was being nice to him. He didn't deserve that.

"Yes, so, Daphne?" He tried again.

"Yes?" She replied softly, casting her eyes away.

"Why did you do that?" He was referring to her earlier actions. Both stopping him from his suicide and straddling him.

"Hit you with a book? You were being stupid." She answered, and he knew she was playing stupid. Or tactful, rather.

"No, I mean, why'd you… well, make yourself cheap, if I can put it that way?" He was never good at euphemisms, and he always thought to put things bluntly was the best.

"You can, and suicide is the coward's escape, Potter, you are not a coward. I knew if you could just think clearly, or even if you talked to someone, you would leave this stupid idea of yours." She said clearly, crossing her legs and arms crossly. He expression was formed into a frown, her lips into a pout.

"Why do you care?" He whispered. He was close to losing consciousness again, he had about three sleeping pills in, including the tea he'd drunk, and that was probably going to knock him out for a while.

"I'm not saying I do, but the wizarding world needs you, and I'd be daft in letting you kill yourself." She answered. The answer made him angry, it infuriated him, but he wasn't angry enough to throttle her yet.

"So you act like… like a prostitute and straddle me?" He asked, his voice slurring the tiniest bit.

"Potter – let's get one thing straight: This world needs you, and I would do anything to ascertain you don't disappoint them."

A/N: I know it's weird... But I thought I'd dive right into the deep side.