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Darkness Within The Light	By : crimson96 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8759 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Author's Note: Hello again to everyone that stayed with the story through Chapter 1. Here you will see how the events of Chapter 1 connect with this chapter and the whole story. Once more I must give much credit to my beta reader "Eris R. Lebeau for her help and guidance through this chapter. She is one of the best! As always please do feel free to comment on anything within the chapter.

Chapter 2: Not To Punish Yourself

A beautiful brown owl flew above the treetops and then descended to glide between the street lights that bathed the nighttime sky with their luminous glow. The owl flew with accuracy and precision as it neared its destination. Landing perfectly on the window ledge, it in at the occupant of the bed. There, thrashing about, was Harry Potter. The owl hooted feebly, but the call went unanswered, save by the stillness of the night. Sensing a long wait ahead of it, the brown owl found a comfortable position on the ledge and tucked its head under its wing for a well deserved night's rest.

Harry tossed and turned in his four-poster bed. The nightmares of his past haunted him as he slept. He moaned and mumbled in his sleep while trying to stop some invisible force from doing something to his left arm. Suddenly he screamed and jolted upright. Sweat poured down his skin, and his breathing was ragged, as if he had been running for miles. After quickly reaching for his glasses, Harry turned the knob on the oil lamp all the way forward. The wick flared, and the brightly burning light erased the darkness from the room. Harry ripped back his sleeve to look at his left forearm. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as the only thing that he found was his own skin. There was no outline the Dark Mark.

Harry sat back down on the bed resting his head in his hands. His heart was still racing, but it was slowing down with every breath that he took.

"Bad dream, that's all it was, just a bad dream," Harry whispered to himself as he ran his hands through his hair. "Come on, Potter, get a grip on yourself. He's dead, and you know he is. It's all over with."

Ever since the war had ended, and Voldemort had been defeated, these nightmares had been an almost nightly occurrence. Harry sat on the edge of his bed with his eyes closed as he tried to force the images of the nightmare from his mind. Slowly, he opened his eyes and tried to focus on the items that were in his room. Jammed into the corner he saw his trunk with his clothes sprawled across the floor. Then he found the item that would help vanquish the last remnants of the nightmare. Lying across the back of a chair was the red and gold sweater that Mrs. Weasley knitted for him the previous Christmas. His memory drifted to the moment of opening his package and the amusement of everyone in the house as he put on his gift.

Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had offered to let him stay with Ron after the battle of Hogwarts. He didn't regret refusing their offer; intruding on the family's grief would have felt wrong, and it wasn't as if he had no home of his own. Here at Grimmauld Place, he had the solitude he needed. He didn't have to work hard to think of pleasantries or worry that something he said to someone would set off a chain of memories that ended in tragedy. He could not deny the fact that Grimmauld Place contained many painful memories for him as well; but it was home. It was his home. He knew that, right now, he was better off here.

The bedroom door opened and a small bat-like head with a long, crooked nose appeared. Around his neck, the owner of the head wore a golden locket that gleamed in the glow of the moon. "Master Harry screamed, sir?"

"Yes. It's nothing to worry about, Kreacher; just another bad dream. Sorry if I disturbed your sleep."

The old house elf glared long and hard at Harry. "Master Harry must rest peacefully. Kreacher will make master a nice cup of hot tea, and a midnight snack. Kreacher knows how Master Harry enjoys his onion soup."

"No, that really isn't necessary, I'll be al-" However, before Harry could finish this, Kreacher had already left the bedroom, and was walking to the kitchen. He sat on the edge of his bed a moment longer, before noticing the brown owl on his window ledge. The owl uncovered its head and hooted at Harry as he opened the window. The owl glided off of the ledge and landed on the bed.

"Well, who do you belong to?" Harry asked, as he untied the note attached to the owl's leg.

Harry,

I hope this note finds you well. It has been three weeks, and we have not heard from you since. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley want you to know that they offer you their love and support. We all hope you will come to visit us soon. We miss you very much. It doesn't do anyone any good to try to hide from everything, Harry. It is not your fault things turned out the way they did. I'm sure that if the Weasleys could speak to you they would tell you the same. I promised Ron that I would not drone on because I knew that you would feel some guilt over what happened at Hogwarts. This owl is yours. Ron talked me into buying him for you. His name is Ramses. Please write back as soon as you can.

Love,

Hermione

Harry tucked the letter into the breast pocket of his nightshirt and met the bird's wide, yellow eyes. He didn't need an owl, as he didn't plan on writing to anyone. What was there to say? Knowing Hermione, she probably thought Harry needed the bird for company. Perhaps she was right, and he should be happy with his new familiar, but after Hedwig he had never wanted another owl. Ramses cocked his head, twitching one of his ear-like feather tufts, and Harry sighed in resignation.

"Well, Ramses...looks like you have a new home." The owl hooted and flew gracefully around the room before finally settling down on the top of Harry's wardrobe closet. "I'll get you some food and water in the morning, alright?" Ramses hooted once more before placing his head under his wing.

Harry proceeded out onto the stairs and down toward the kitchen. The smell of Kreacher's onion soup began to fill the vast space inside Grimmauld Place. Hermione's letter continued to swirl inside of his mind. It was true that he did not want to be bothered with the outside world. Seven years of being Harry Potter, "The Boy Who Lived"; and Harry Potter, "The Chosen One" had taken its toll. Since defeating Voldemort all Harry longed for was peace and quiet. Yet, since that life-changing night Harry had not been quite the same person. Somehow, he had changed. He could not exactly place his mind on precisely what it was, yet somehow he knew he was different from the Harry Potter of his past.

"Kreacher has prepared Master Harry's favorite, onion soup with steak & kidney pie." The house elf beamed with pleasure as Harry walked into the kitchen. Harry sat down to eat, as Kreacher brought forth the various food platters and bowls of soup. It was delicious. The food was so good that Harry temporarily forgot about the letter and the thoughts that went with it.

"Master has a note in hand," Kreacher observed as he took away the empty bowl of soup from the table.

"What? Oh, yes, Hermione sent it," Harry said as he continued eating.

"Master's friends have written to him after so long. Will Kreacher need to prepare the guest rooms for their arrival, Master Harry?"

"No, that isn't necessary. She hopes that I will visit them while she's staying at the Burrow." Harry scanned the letter once again and shook his head at Hermione's words. It is the same old thing, right Hermione? You'll never change. You mean well, but sometimes you just don't know when to give people their own space. "Bring a bottle of firewhiskey, Kreacher."

"Very well, Master Harry." Kreacher bowed low to the floor and began to turn around when Harry spoke.

"Kreacher, we have a new owl. His name is Ramses. Be sure to take him some food and water."

"Yes, Master Harry." The house elf ambled back to the kitchen to do as his mastered ordered.

Harry sat at the table eating and thinking of the events of the past few months. So much had changed and yet some things had not. Truthfully, Harry was ridden with guilt over the loss of Fred, Remus, Tonks, and the many others who had died just for him to have a chance to defeat Voldemort. It wasn't fair.

Why did so many have to die in order for one to live?

Why did Hermione always have to try to analyze everything about him and his feelings?

That was the main reason why Harry had insisted on being alone at Grimmauld Place. He didn't need the daily talks from Hermione about how he was feeling, or about letting go of his pain.

"I need my pain! I just want these damn nightmares to stop!" Harry said as he threw his firewhiskey to the floor. Kreacher came hurrying into the kitchen at the sound of the goblet hitting the floor and the anger in his master's voice.

"Master is angry with Kreacher?"

"No, I'm fine. Sorry about the mess in there, it's not your fault. I order you not to punish yourself, or to clean it up. I'll deal with it in the morning," Harry said angrily as he stormed back up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Once inside, he slammed the bedroom door and stomped over to the window. He gazed out at the moon, knowing that sleep would not be kind to him tonight. Not for the first time Harry wished that he had died along with Voldemort.
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Darkness Within The Light