[Sirius has died. Harry is with Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office.]

"I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?"

"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human --"

"THEN -- I -- DON'T -- WANT -- TO -- BE -- HUMAN! [...] I DON'T CARE!" Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE --"

-- Page 824, OotP

Never After
Chapter One -- Escape from England

A deep sigh escaped him as he looked out of the train window. Rain was pattering down and he couldn't help but think it a fitting ending to the year that had just passed. Harry took a deep breath as he started to change for Platform 9 and 3/4; muggle clothes, big, baggy and his cousin Dudley's hand-me-downs.

It was only a few days ago that Sirius had died, and the sable haired so-called Savior of the Light was more than just mourning the death of his godfather. Sirius was like a parent to him -- or, at least, a very rambuncious, living-through-you-vicariously-because-they-won't-let-me-out-of-this-hellhole Uncle. Harry gave a sad, mirthless laugh at that.

Yep, that's Sirius.

He finished changing and lugged his trunk from the overhead compartment. His two best... well, Granger and Weasley, had been honoured Prefects at the beginning of the year. And while on the ride to Hogwarts they'd come back to their usual carriage, this time they had decided to stay with the other Prefects.

A wave of bitterness encompassed him. Ron and Hermione had decided (or declared, as Hermione tended to do) that it was best if they just took a break from each other after the 'incident' at the Ministry. Apparently they thought it was reckless and childish of him to include them on yet another 'adventure' in which they almost died. Again.

Clearly they had forgotten that he wanted them to stay back at the castle; that they had insisted on coming.

"We will arrive at Platform 9 and 3/4 in five minutes," a clear, bell-like female voice stated above his head.

Great, another summer with the Dursley's, Harry thought.

He wasn't generally one to indulge in self-pity, but lately he'd been feeling out of sorts. It had started with Sirius and it was coming to a peak at the beginning of summer, the most dreaded time (perhaps other than every June) of his year, where he'd spend two and a half long months with his less-than-kind relatives. He only hoped that the summer was filled with cool wind to keep him from another heat stroke as he deweeded, mowed, or replanted in the backyard.

It seemed like a bleak ray of hope, but he had to hold on to it. There was nothing else for the emerald eyed teen to grasp at and he was getting desperate.

The Hogwarts Express was finally coming to a stop and he crammed into the walkway with the rest of the Hogwarts student body. It only caused another deep sigh to realize he was about as tall as most fourth years, though he was going on sixteen. He finally managed to wriggle his way out and onto the platform, catching a glimpse of a matronly looking woman with fiery red hair.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry caught her attention with a slight smile. She'd always been good to him, if a little overbearing at times. He was disappointed, but not truly shocked, to see her give a tight smile in return instead of a full set of white teeth and a hug that warmed his soul. She must have heard from Ron. He turned and headed for the gateway between the platform and the muggle world, trying to ignore the ache of abandonment he felt.

A dreamy voice called him back just before he stepped through the wall.

"Harry," Luna said in her breathy way.

"Hello, Luna." He was quite surprised that she was standing there before him, smiling as usual. Shouldn't she be shunning him like the others? Angry at him for risking her and getting his Godfather killed?

"Have a nice summer, Harry," she smiled, a radish earring poking out between her gold locks.

"You too, Luna. And look, I'm really sor --"

"Ask the Blibbering Humdingers if they prefer Dirigible Plums or Aquavirius Maggots." She paused. "I'm thinking it's the Plums."

"Oh, er, sure, Luna. If I run into any, um, Blibbering Humdingers I'll make sure to ask them," he agreed, kind of amused in spite (or maybe because of?) the ridiculousness of his friend.

Friend. Wow, he didn't know how much that was going to relieve him.

"Bye Harry," Luna waved, her trunk rolling after her a lot like a Mary Poppins bag.

"See you, Luna."

He finally managed to exit the platform, uninterrupted. It didn't take long to spot the hulking figure of his Uncle amongst the crowd. The man was like a small, pink whale with a large mustache and easily purpled face. What did surprise the dark haired teen, though, was when he could spot his Aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley with Vernon. They usually didn't accompany him to "Fetch the Freak" (which, in his mind, was akin to "Harry Hunting" though much less painful), so it was odd that they were there. Especially Dudley, as he took after his father (fat and blond), and hated anything that forced him to move.

Well, other than change the channel, but even then he complained.

"Hurry up, boy," his uncle growled at him. The nod he gave went unseen as his family hurried on ahead of him, anxious to get away from where the other freaks were. It didn't take long to find the car and pop his trunk into it, though it was quite heavy, and give the trolley back to the station. Once that was done, he slid into the company car from Grunnings, Hedwig on his lap, and they took off. He passed the time by looking out the window and petting his owl, trying to ignore the punches Dudley was hitting on his arm, until they could get back to Number 4 Privet Drive. His brows furrowed when, instead of heading off for Surrey, they went deeper into the London Metropolis.

Where were they going? As soon as he saw the airport he had a panicked thought:

Surely, surely we aren't going to Marge's?

Marge -- or, Aunt Marge as he was forced to call her (though she wasn't his aunt at all) -- was a terrible woman with many mean dogs, the most notorious being Ripper. She was the same stature as her brother and nephew, even going so far as to have a thinner version of Vernon's mustache, and she often let her dogs bark, bite, and howl Harry up into a tree.

He had hoped not to see her after third year, when in a fit of anger, he turned her into a human balloon. The Ministry of Magic had obliviated her, sure, but he couldn't promise not to do it again.

Just when he was told to grab his trunk and "that ruddy bird" he worked up the courage to ask, exactly, where were they going? Vernon turned that ugly puce colour and his aunt stuck her bony, horse like face into the air at his sheer audacity.

"Not that you should ask such ridiculous questions, boy, but we are headed to the Americas," suddenly, the red vanished and was replaced by a smug satisfaction upon Vernon's face. "I have been recognized by the Head of Grunnings himself and been promoted to Chief Manager of the New Expansion Division to scout out an area that may increase our profits ten-fold." The smugness left his face briefly and Harry was once again faced with a glare that was no match for Snape's or even Voldemort's. "Not that it should mean anything to you, but we'll be gone for the summer and relocated near Seattle, Washington."

He turned to leave Harry staring at his backside blankly. For a moment, the teenager could do nothing but blink owlishly, trying to comprehend exactly what all this meant.

A whole summer outside of England? Away from his frie -- erm, blood wards? But, no, he would be with his aunt, so they would still be in effect. And the Death Eaters would have no idea where he was...

This had the possibility to be a good thing.

No one to remind him of his part in Sirius's death, he wouldn't think about his ex-friends because he could make new ones! It was summer, the Dursely's surely couldn't alienate everyone so quickly, right? Without even realizing it, Harry had followed his family into the terminal and he was now sporting the first signs of a small, unforced smile.

As Vernon showed their passports (when had he gotten those?) and they checked their luggage -- well, Harry did; they had already sent theirs ahead to the house Grunnings rented -- the green eyed teen kept going through the good things about this temporary move and his smile kept getting wider. The shadows of the last few days were wearing off and he knew, just knew, that Sirius would be glad for him to have this chance. He'd be a new person for two and a half months.

Not Harry-the-Freaky-Criminally-Demented-Nephew.

Not Harry-the-Boy-Who-Didn't-Very-Well-Die.

Not Harry-Golden-Boy-of-Gryffindor.

No, just Harry.

"Hi, I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Oh, nice to meet you. What an extraordinarily bland name you have there, Harry..."

He was practically thrumming with excitement. Why couldn't the Dursley's have told him sooner?

- - -

They had left the American terminal after several long hours worth of flights. First it was London to New York, the longest of the flights; then New York to Seattle; a smaller airplane up to a place called Port Angeles and finally the hour drive down to a small town named Forks.

Forks? Really? Well, as strange as it was (though, with Harry's life, one of the more normal things), he wouldn't start complaining.

He did learn, though, that Vernon would primarily be staying in and around the small town of Forks, Was., to get a feel on all the "Community Drilling Needs" and only spending every weekend in Seattle. It was still more than Harry dared to dream.

They were finally driving through what the map proclaimed to be the utensil-deemed town. From what the pale teen could see the entire town was situated on a single highway: indeed, the school was right off the road, as was the grocer, gas station, and police office. It was raining just as it was in England when they'd left, but with his new found appreciation for the move, he didn't see it as a bad sign, just made it that much more like London.

He was ashamed to admit that he was gaping along with Dudley at all the stereotypical American houses that lined the street. They were closer together the further into town they got, but not as crammed as Surrey was. Aunt Petunia was grumbling back at the two teens to quiet down, though it was only her son that was making the loud exclamations; it was a long trip and neither her nor her husband were much in the mood to deal with their son or the freak.

It was a mere five minutes later that they pulled up into the driveway of a nicely sized two-story house. Bigger than Number 4, at least, Harry thought and couldn't wait to see the room he would get. He grabbed Hedwig and put her on top of his trunk as he followed the Dursley's inside. It was a normal house, he thought. There were stairs up, but no cupboard (he thanked Merlin); a spacious kitchen he would more than likely spend most of his time in since from what he could see the backyard was lush but not overgrown. The living room held some came-with-the-house furniture and a t.v. set. It was over all very nice, Harry thought.

"Boy!" Vernon shouted and his nephew jumped, distracted by the house. He was instantly at attention. "Go upstairs and whatever room Dudley doesn't choose you put your rubbish down in. Then get back down here, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go!"

Harry was gone quickly and he lugged his things up the stairs. Dudley was rushing (as much as he could) between the rooms before settling on the one closest to the Master leaving Harry with the one next to the stairs. The dark haired teen pulled his trunk into his new room and just stood stunned for a moment.

It was the size of Dudley's room back in Surrey, with a full bed and duvet set already in place. The walls were plain and there was even a built in shelf. He pulled his things to the end of his bed and poured Hedwig some water before taking a look at the forest outside his window: green, green, more green. He grinned, to him it was a lush, alien world that he would take full advantage of.

"Potter!" His uncle shouted and he cursed as he rushed down the stairs. "Finally! Here," he shoved some strange bills into Harry's hand, "American dollars. Go get us food from that take-out place we passed down the road, and hurry with it you ungrateful brat!"

Harry hurried to do so and stepped out the front door just as his cousin exclaimed, "I want curry!"

As the wizard walked down the road, figuring in his head the American bills couldn't be that different than the pounds he was used to, a car came along side him and the window rolled down. He looked over at the car and it was white with a green stripe on the side, yellow words printed Sheriff. True, it wasn't the blue and yellow check he was used to, but he figured it was much more pleasant to look at.

"Hello, there," the man inside said; he was middle aged with graying black hair and a matching mustache. "Need a lift?"

"Oh, erm, well..." He glanced back at the house that was nearly out of his sight.

"'M not gonna bite ya, kid," the man gruffed out. "I'm the Chief of Police here and I just don't seem to recognize you. Small town like this, that's odd."

"Uh, yes, well, my family just moved you see --"

"Hop in, we can talk on the way."

Harry did as told; he figured that if it were Death Eater's they'd be too proud to imitate a muggle and the car looked official enough, so the man must have actually been a police man. Right? He felt very stupid all of the sudden. Luckily, the man just asked where he was headed and told him he was Charlie Swan, Chief to the good people of Forks.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Well then, Harry, that's some accent you've got there."

True, it wasn't the "Oh, what a bland name, Harry Potter!" but he was happy no less. The two of them talked about the Dursley's, Forks, and in general American customs Harry was more than glad to learn. He didn't need to add Harry-That-English-Freak to his list of names. They finally arrived at the place and he didn't recognize exactly what kind of take-out it served.

"Do you suppose they have curry here?" He asked the officer as he unbuckled.

"Currey?" the man asked, confusion in his voice. "Look, kid, I don't think that's a real popular flavor around here. Panda Kitchen just serves Chinese food."

"Oh, well, okay. Thank you."

And then Charlie was gone.

No curry? How strange.

A/N: This has the possibility to become one of two things: 1) yet another cliche romance between either Harry and Edward or Harry and Jasper or 2) a coming of age story in which Harry learns to cope with growing up in a world filled with war, death, and a humanity that threatens to overwhelm him. At the moment I have no clue which I'd rather write. One the one hand, I'm a hopeless romantic like every other reader of Twilight. But then there's that side that wants to write something a little more meaningful. Either way, I probably won't finish this anyway (just look at every other half written story in my profile if you want proof), but I wanted to get it out there.

I'll be posting a poll on my profile for how the story should end up; I'd really appreciate the feedback in that and reviews which are like crack for authors. So, don't be shy! Read, review, help me plot the end of the world -- I mean story! Yes, story.