Bring Me to Life

Chapter 1: Morning Call

~*~

You're gone away,
I'm left alone,
A part of me is gone,
And I'm not moving on,
So wait for me,
I know the day will come...

I'll meet you there,
No matter where life takes me to,
I'll meet you there,
And even if I need you here,
I'll meet you there.

I wish I could have told you,
The things I kept inside,
But now I guess its just too late.
So many things remind me of you,
I hope that you can hear me,
I miss you.

--Simple Plan

Harry rolled over and groaned as his alarm blared loudly. He hadn't slept well, and he didn't fancy waking up while it was still dark out. Running his fingers through his untidy hair, he stood up and stretched. If only he weren't still having nightmares about that day. The day that had changed his life and, ultimately, determined it at the same time. He never thought about that day and yet-his subconscious seemed to like draggin him through the memories of it every night while he tried to sleep

He yawned and shuffled over to the window, pulling the shades aside just long enough to glance down at the London street below him. It was quiet with the occasional car driving past, and the lights lining the street cast a soft glow that made for mysterious shadows and dark corners.

He turned away and sighed, steeling himself for a new day in which he would inevitably wonder what was happening in the world he had long ago deserted. For Harry had left the wizarding world behind after that day, the day which caused his nightmares, the day which would have caused nightmares even if he hadn't lost everything. Nothing about war was pleasant to remember. In fact, nothing about his past was pleasant to remember. Now, all that mattered to Harry was that he could walk down the street in peace, he could open the paper and not see his face splashed all over it, and he could choose what he wanted instead of having everything chosen for him.

But what was most important was that the Boy Who Lived had died. He had died that day when his world fell around him and there was nothing he could do but watch in hopeless wonder at how in the matter of five minutes, he lost everything. To Harry Potter, there were many things to fight over and against, but only a few worth fighting for. And when those few things were lost, so was Harry Potter, and his will to even bother anymore.

He had fled without goodbye.

The world that had welcomed him so easily as their hero suddenly became the hero's downfall, and the only other valid option besides suicide was a retreat to the world that had once been the only world he knew, the world of Muggles. Muggle London to be precise, and while Harry couldn't admit to being happy, he was certainly better off than he would have been back there. Back there, they probably thought of him as a traitor. He didn't care. Did they even know what he went through for their freedom and in the end, he was the one who suffered? Wasn't ironic that he had to lose everything to give them all something? Whatever it was, it was not fair. He lost his parents. Then he lost his godfather. Then the war came and he went out bravely to fight. It was the logical thing to do, was already cast a hero. But, if that was logical, then so was losing his best friend at the hands of his worst enemy. With Harry, victory was accompanied by death. And if Ron's death wasn't enough, if Harry hadn't already lost half the handful of people who truly cared about him, he had to lose his lover, too.Harry was always fighting his battles for other people. Then it reached the point where there was no one he wanted to fight for anymore.

He stumbled through his dark room and into the bathroom, anger giving him the energy to get moving on what would probably be a dreary day. He flicked the lights on and turned on the shower, undressing quickly and moving to the closet for a towel. He passed the mirror and absentmindedly glanced at himself.

It was too bad the man who looked back out at him appeared lost and detached.

He didn't care. He grabbed for a towel and headed back to the shower.

As the hot water splashed over his body, so did bits of memories from long ago that made his stomach churn: He remembered the day that he, Ron and Hermione had graduated. They were all so excited about joining the magical world as working adult wizards; Ron joking about following in Percy's footsteps and, to his horror, working at the Ministry of Magic; Hermione smiling at the prospect of being Ron's wife and working in her favourite field of magic, Potions. And Harry was excited about being involved in one of the most prestigious professions of the time: magical medicine. He had always had a knack for saving people and could never bear to see someone hurt if he could help them in some way. He had been deemed a first class medi-wizard, ranking high on his M-Newts, the standardized test for determining medical ability. They were similar to the Newts except for the fact that Harry didn't struggle through them like he did the actual Newts.

Harry had been his happiest then, before his life had fallen apart into pieces that were to minute for repair. Unconsiously, Harry picked up his shampoo and began working it through his tangled hair. He was used to the sweet, floral fragrance but today it reminded him painfully of one special day that he had spent with the only person he had ever loved...

//It was unseasonably warm for October, and he was laughing as he chased Harry around the Quidditch pitch, trying to catch him but nevertheless enjoying the feeling of knowing that once he caught him, Harry wouldn't keep on running. The sun was glinting off the blonde's hair, making him look like angel. Harry was caught off guard by the beauty of it and was inevitably caught, giggling as he toppled to the ground.

"I can't believe you're giggling, Potter."

"I can't believe for a second you looked like an angel. " Harry chided. "I must be delusional."

"Suit yourself, but if you're delusional than I must be too."

"Oh really? And why?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"For falling in love with someone who actually *giggles*." Draco leaned down to place a soft kiss on his conquest's lips...//

The only person that Harry would suffer through endless agruments with Hermione and Ron to be with. The only person who told Harry that his hair was cute, not unruly and annoying. The only person who touched Harry's scar and made it feel good. The only person worth going to Double Potions for every other day.

//Draco.//

Harry didn't want to think about the days he had spent with Draco, bu sometimes he couldn't help it. There was always a smell, or a song, or a blonde head that reminded him of his former lover. Usually when the memories came he pushed them away with thoughts of work, or the most recent movie he'd seen, or the latest episode of Friends that had aired.

He blinked and realised that he had probably been standing in the shower with shampoo running down his head for a much longer time than was necessary, and that if he didn't hurry he would be late for work. He rinsed the shampoo and turned to switch the water off. At the same time, he vowed to turn the memories off as well. They were painful and if he wasn't careful, they would scald like boiling water on flesh.

***

Harry headed for his kitchen and made himself a cup if tea. He hoped that the effects of the hot liquid would be calming on his nerves. There had to be a reason why he couldn't stop thinking about...him. As he sat with his hands wrapped around the steaming mug, he let his eyes fall on the calendar below his cupboard. And then, he remembered. It was ten years ago today, and Harry uttered a low moan as the day flooded back to him.

//September 26, 1997, seventh year.

"I love you, Harry."

"Don't be silly, Draco. How on earth could you love me? We have nothing in common except that we hate each other."

"On the contrary, we have nothing in common except that we need each other."

A smile and a gentle touch of the hand.

"I need nothing except my broom and..."

A laugh.

"How interesting Mr. Potter, that you would use that *choice* of words."

"How interesting, Mr. Malfoy, that you think you love me. Like I said, nothing in common..."

"Entirely not true. There's Quidditch, and Potions, and Hogwarts. Of course, we both have wands..."

A giggle. Giggle? Harry knew it couldn't be true.

"But besides, why should we be just like each other anyway? I'd rather have someone who completes me. And to be honest, where all my charming, noble qualities leave off, Potter--"

"I know. Mine begin." And Harry kissed Draco with a passion more intense than the heat of a hot summer's day//

Harry bit back a sob and felt the familiar pain in his chest. The grief of losing his lover. The longing that overcame him every time some meaningless woman kissed him or held his hand. The regret that came from never telling Draco how much he really meant to him. The guilt that always crippled him. The guilt that came from knowing that he hadn't been by Draco's side as his last moments were slipping by.

He had been by Ron's instead.

But not because he was choosing him over Draco. Hermione had sworn to him that Draco was okay, that he had minor injuries and would recover. And up until that point, she had never given him reason to distrust her. But this time, she had been wrong. He had never forgiven her for that. Draco had been dying, and she had lied to him. If she had told him the truth, that Draco was dying, then he probably would have been so torn between Ron and his lover that he might have gone mad right there. But the point was that she had lied, she had never been comfortable with Harry's choice of boyfriend. Whether it extended to envy, or was simply limited to anger Harry had never found out.

Still staring at the calendar, Harry stood up heavily and took a long, deep breath. Nothing was ever enough to make him feel the slightest bit better about that day. There was no one to apologize to, as if that would be enough, and no one who understood. He picked up the empty tea mug and with a sharp cry, threw it at the calendar.

It splintered into pieces and effectively knocked the calendar from the wall. Everything tumbled to the floor in a heap, making Harry grimace at the similarity of that to his own life. With one last glance at his glorious mess, he frowned and walked out of his front door and onto the empty, dull street.

***

Base was not that far from Harry's flat, and he usually enjoyed the walk. Today, however, it was different. He felt as if he didn't belong somehow, as if he were missing something. It was odd that after ten years of despair he would feel different now. There was nothing special about the day except that it was the anniversary...but that didn't really mean anything.

As he walked quietly down Victoria Street he wondered what his life would be like if Draco was still with him. If he still spoke to Hermione, if he still had Remus in his life. He didn't notice as he passed Parliament and Big Ben on his right, and continued shuffling his feet over the bridge lying before him. Wondering about what could have been, what would have been never did him any good and he took a deep breath to try and clear his head. He turned left after passing St. Thomas Hospital, repetition carrying his dull footsteps towards Waterloo while Harry pushed thoughts of Draco away once again that morning.

He came to the door of London Ambulance, where he was employed as a Qualified Ambulance Technician. After all, he knew he belonged in the medical field, whether it was magical medicine or muggle. He saw no reason why he needed to change his career dream once he left the magical world. It was actually the only part of Harry's life that hadn't changed when he left magic behind. Fixing his face into what he hoped wasn't a frown, he swiped his keycard and stepped inside when the door opened with a soft click. He passed the small office on his left and could hear the other technicians talking in the living area, or so they liked to call it. A laugh rang through the hall as Harry continued down to the room at the end.

He stepped into the room, prepared to come up with some story about how he was sick, or mugged, anything to explain his tardiness.

He recognised James sitting on the ratty armchair that they could never part with, and Brian seated on the couch along with Stephanie. They were watching some movie that he remembered as being funny in an insanely stupid way, with some American bloke getting a laugh or two by making faces. James looked up with a smile and nodded in Harry's direction. Harry had liked him since his first day of work. He was in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and a handsome, friendly face that often made Harry feel comfortable when he was around the man. He had always been very easy to get on with and Harry liked talking to him.

" ' Lo, Harry," Brian called, picking up his mug. Brian was younger than Harry by about five years or so, but he was determined and devoted to his job. Harry was friendly with him, but the younger man was never very talkative. Harry thought that he was a little shy, whether from being around older co-workers or just because of his personality, Harry didn't know.

"Hey, guys," Harry replied, "sorry I'm late. There was--"

"No need to worry, it's been a slow morning, being a Sunday and all." Stephanie piped up. Her long blonde hair was in a high ponytail and her blue eyes sparkled when she smiled at Harry. Harry had been friends with Stephanie since she had started working there about two years ago. Sometimes they would go out together to see a movie or have dinner, but it was never more than just a friendship. He preferred men to women, of course, and she knew that. He had told her eventually after some of their more serious conversations about relationships and past loves. He had never told her about Draco, though. That would have led to more prying questions about Harry's past.

"Where are the others?" Harry asked, noticing that half the team was not there. Stupid question, really, since the only place half the team would be at was a call. Their normal method of operation was that the team would divide into groups of four and each group would take turns on a call.

"On a call, down near Leicester Square. Apparently someone thought it would be smart to call a taxicab while standing in the street instead of next to it." James answered with a slight smirk. Sometimes, it was hard not to wonder what people were thinking when they got themselves into dangerous situations. Harry was used to this and waved it off. What he wanted to say had something to do with how broomsticks were so much safer in that manner, but he quickly suppressed that thought and just as quickly, wondered why he suddenly was in tune with his inner wizard.

He took a seat and tried to get more interested in the movie. Instead he found himself fingering his name badge, the only true reminder of his past.

Harry Lupin

After Sirius had died, Remus did everything he could to be there for Harry and eventually, Harry had begun to feel for Remus what he had felt for Sirius. It had turned out that they had one very specific thing in common, that they both had lost a man they loved. It had taken quite a bit of time before Remus had told Harry the truth about he and Sirius. They had been lovers and the combination of being a werewolf and not having Sirius around was what had made Remus so tired in the beginning. Then Sirius had come back and life became so much better.

Then he was gone again, and so soon after gaining his freedom. Harry and Remus had found that they could lean on each other in their times of need, as both lost a man that was very significant in their lives. He hadn't really told anyone, but he blamed himself for Siri's death, and in turn blamed himself for Remus' misery after losing the man that he had only recently reclaimed.

When he left after the battle, he didn't bother thinking back on how Remus would feel because he knew it would be better for Remus. The broken man would never have to look upon the face that had brought him so much sadness. Remus wouldn't have to see the boy who killed his lover, his Padfoot.

He had needed a new name once he left, and he instantly chose Lupin. It was simple, really. It reminded him of someone he cared about, and it punished him every time he saw it or thought it. The idea was kind of morbid, he had to admit that. But every time he looked at his name badge, signed his name, read his name on his mail, he was berated for hurting Remus, and taking his lover away. It was all he could do for Remus.

Harry was jarred out of his thoughts by the radio crackling, and soon the four were all ears. A call was coming through.

"Dispatcher to base, do you copy? We have a report of a male, approximately 27 years of age, name unknown, unresponsive with possible head trauma. Location is Northumberland Ave., Victoria Embankment end. Please respond immediately. Scene is secure."

Harry sighed, and in a heartbeat, the four were up and in gear. The location was not far from where he lived, and in all it was probably about five minutes away from their base. They filed into the garage in silence, each taking in the report and what could have happened. Harry felt his hands tremble a little, that was normal for him whenever they were heading to a call. Not knowing what sort of scene would be awaiting them was always a little scary.

While the ambulance bumped along at a a steady speed, Harry gave a start when he realised that the patient was his age. It always unnerved him to think of someone just as old as he as dying. Even after watching Cedric and Ron, and...and...him die.

Life was never fair.

Upon arrival, Harry and Stephanie readied the stretcher and located the cervical neck braces. Unsure of what size the patient would need, he grabbed a regular and a short. Stephanie stopped and touched his arm.

"Let's be brilliant, love."

"Yes," Harry smiled. She was the same age as he, and it would be difficult for the two of them to lose a patient so close to their age. It was always difficult. It made Harry feel like it could be him on that stretcher, grasping for life like a newborn holding onto his blankie. They wheeled the stretcher toward the side of the road, where Harry could see a heap of clothes and James leaning over said heap. He stood to turn and face Stephanie and Harry, and Harry stumbled and nearly fell at the sight of the patient.

There was a shock of blonde hair.

It reminded him so much of Draco that he lost his breath. And he couldn't seem to remember how to breathe again. It was like drowning in air instead of water. Stephanie grabbed his arm on instinct, an eyed him curiously.

"Harry?" she cried, " are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He knew she was confused, because they had been on many runs together and he had never reacted like this. He took a deep breath finally, and looked at his friend. "Yeah, it was, um...", Harry trailed off. "I'm fine. He just looked- for a second- like someone..."

"Harry," she whispered, now close to his face, "if you need to then go back to the ambulance. This looks like a textbook spinal injury and Brian, James, and I can handle it. If you know him..."

"No, I-I don't know him...I'm fine," Harry managed, and forced a small smile.

But did he know him? He was almost to afraid too take a step closer but he had to, had to do his job. Had to find out. So he followed Stephanie cautiously, careful to remain aware of his surroundings. The lights suddenly seemed too bright, the air seemed too thin. He felt as if he was suffocating again. At last, he was beside the broken man lying on the ground. He could see the small pool of blood growing larger around his head. Could see the dark clots in the blonde hair, marring it.

He could see the face of Draco Malfoy.

Harry took a step back, dazed. This couldn't be happening, it wasn't right. Draco was not here, he had died ten years before. This wasn't real. It was a nightmare, Harry decided, and he just needed to wake up. Why wasn't he waking up?

His stomach turned cold when he saw a piece of paper lying beside this...this man that could not possibly be his former lover. He grew dizzy and threw his right arm out, grabbing on to the nearest streetlamp. He doubled over, sure he was going to be sick. His vision was blurry but in one moment of clarity, Harry's eyes focused on the first words of the letter, and when the realisation hit him that it was a suicide note, he reeled. He was vaguely aware that Stephanie was approaching him but it was too late by the time she arrived at his side.

He vomited and promptly keeled over, consciousness too much for his mind and body to handle.

He hit the street hard.

The letter next to him fluttered slightly.

My dearest HP...

~*~

To Be Continued...