A/N: Okay everybody...new story! Really hope you like it! Don't worry, I'm still going to work on my first FF (that will comefirst priority tothis one because I started it before this one - obviously - and I'm almost done with it...almost). So I hope you like it and read my other story!

This has nothing to do with HBP. It's starting off where OTP leaves off. Yes, I've read HBP, but I liked the ending of OTP better for a new story because it leaves me more options. I like the fact that I can do a story that can take place at Hogwarts because in my other story Harry and Ginny were already out of school. Plus, I really wanted to write a a FF like this for a long time and I finally got around to doing so.

Disclaimer: I don't own any HP characters and such. They all belong to JK Rowling. I don't own any of the songs/lyrics. They belong to Keane (which I might add are awesome!).


Chapter One

Part One

Oh simple thing where have you gone

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on

So tell me when you're gonna let me in

I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

-Somewhere Only We Know-

Keane

The sky was dull; no stars that were shimmering, no airplanes flying through, no big, full moon - just black. The street was quiet; no cars speeding down them, no kids fooling around, no stray pets prowling around - just quiet. And inside a plain house on a plain street, there lay a boy, but he was not plain. He was nothing close to plain. And for that he wished never to open his eyes again.

Harry Potter turned lazily onto his side, facing his plain, bare walls. He blinked and let out a long sigh. The summer was three weeks in and he hadn't done anything close to healthy. He had barely gone outside making his skin pale and pasty. He hadn't even gone outside of his room (only for the loo and to eat...rarely) making him skinnier than usual. His clothes hung like a rack onto his malnurished body making him look gastly. But he didn't care. He didn't give a damn about his looks or a damn about his health. All he wanted to do was to rot away in his room. It was his goal. The only goal he had set that he knew he could accomplish. And he would accomplish it if he was forced to stay here at Number Four Privet Drive. It was an easy task. All he had to do was think.

Hedwig flew through the open window, dropping a letter onto his bed. Harry didn't rip it open right away like he used to. Nothing was like it used to be. Now he didn't care what anyone had to say. They all said the same thing anyways. How are you? How's the Muggles treating you? It's not your fault, blah blah blah. We really miss you. Take care of yourself...

So Harry would reply the same to everyones pity letters. I'm fine, don't worry. Yup. Sounded good to him. Short, sweet and to the point. Did they really all expect him to gush his heart out on paper? Did they really expect him to admit his feelings and how horrible he was feeling? I mean, really. He didn't need extra pity and he didn't need advice. He needed what none of them could give him. He needed his mum and dad. He needed Sirius...

Harry felt a wave of grief wash over him just thinking about Sirius. He had numbly went through day after day, praying that he would miraculously get a letter from his Godfather telling him that he was sorry and that he didn't mean to scare him, but Harry knew that would never happen. Sirius was gone and he wasn't coming back. And Harry was taking that hard. After all, it was his fault. No one could tell him any different. Deep down everyone knew that Harry was to blame. If he had just listened to Hermione, if he had just been patient, none of this would have ever happened.

His stupid hero intelect.

Hermione was right, plain and simple. Harry always had to be the hero. He would never admit that, but he knew it in his mind that he couldn't stand the idea of someone else saving what he was supposed to. It was just something that was burned into his mind ever since his first year at Hogwarts. But now, having nothing to live for, Harry didn't give a shit what happened to him. He didn't want to save anyone anymore, he didn't want to save himself. All he wanted to do was nothing. He wanted to be nothing again. He wanted to be plain and boring and a nobody.

Hedwig pecked Harry on the ear, making soft noises when Harry hadn't moved to get his letter.

"Alright, alright," he said defeatedly, sitting up. He picked the letter up heavily and ripped off the top, unfolding the piece of parchment.

Dear Harry,

How's everything going with the Muggles? I'm really sorry that you have to stay with them all summer. It really does suck. I'm bored out of my mind! Fred and George aren't even around for me to be the tester for their products (that's how bored I am!). They're always at the shop. They moved in above it. Mum was in a right state when she found out. Said they were too young. Ah well, more food for me!

Hermione owled me the other day. She's coming to stay with us for the rest of the summer. I had invited her when I found out that her parents were going to be going away on vacation and she couldn't join them because of the start of school. I'm sorry again that you can't come and I know it seems like I'm rubbing it in your face, but I wanted you to know so you wouldn't get upset that we hid it from you. I begged mum a million times to let you come but she just gave me that look and said that Dumbledore "had his reasons." Give me a break...

Ginny's all excited about Hermione coming. She says that it will be nice to have another girl in the house. I told her I didn't think I could handle another one of those. Ginny got all huffy and said that I'm the one that invited her and that if I wasn't such a prat maybe girls would like me. As if she knows what she's talking about... She said she did and that if I understood girls than I would be with Hermione right now. Can you believe that? Me and Hermione? Ha! What a load of rubbish.

Anyways, I just wanted to give you the heads up and I really hope that you're not mad. And by the way, your letters suck. Maybe you should think about getting lessons for writing or something.

Well, talk to you later.

Ron

Harry tossed the letter on his desk and layed back down.

So Hermione was spending the rest of the summer with Ron...

Great. That was great. Fine by him. He didn't need anyone anyways. Not anyone that was living. If Harry tried to talk to Hermione about his situation (the Prophecy, his parents, Sirius) than she would just give him her sympathy and look something up in a book to try and figure out a solution to his 'problems.' As if he could find any of that in a book...

And he couldn't talk to Ron about any of that stuff either. First of all, Ron was a guy. Guys don't talk about their feelings towards one another. It's just not how things work. Plus, Ron would just say that Harry was over-reacting and that Dumbledore would help him out. But Ron didn't understand that Dumbledore couldn't help him out. Not this time. No. Harry had to help himself out. That was just how Harrys fate had to be. Lonely and difficult.

Harry longed to have someone to rely on. Someone that could tell him what to do and how to do it. Maybe if his mum and dad were alive they'd know what to do, maybe even Sirius. But deep down inside, Harry knew that nobody would be able to help him. This was just one of those things that you had to do on your own, that you had to figure out by yourself.

So what was a soon-to-be Sixteen year old to do? Push aside his guilt and depression and figure out a way to defeat the Darkest Wizard of all time or wallow in self-pity, giving in to defeat? The obvious choice to anyone would be the first. But Harry Potter wasn't just anyone. He was the Boy-Who-Lived. And so being that person made him choose the latter. He was so careless and so miserable that he didn't give a shit to what happened to him. What did it matter? Voldemort would win anyways, wouldn't he? Did anyone really have faith in Harry that he could defeat the Dark Lord this young, this naive? It's not like Harry wanted Voldemort to win, it was just that he didn't have enough confidence in himself. Right now Neville looked better suited for the job than he.

Harry reached over to his desk, switching off the lamp that was providing the only source of light. Maybe all he needed was a little sleep. Maybe that's all he really wanted; a break, a pause from his life.


A/N: What'd you think? R&R