CHAPTER ONE

Waking up and desperately trying not to kill your roommates was always fun. He'd missed his night meds but he'd had no clue it would be like this. His head was throbbing, his eyes burned. A beast was in his stomach, clawing his insides to the point where he gasped aloud. Yes, Harry Potter would have preferred to be sleeping. At least when he was asleep he wouldn't be so damn hungry.

Being hungry was one of the not-perks of being Harry Potter. He was a bespectacled boy with wild black hair and green eyes, well they were usually green. Other times they were something inhuman, but that hadn't happened in a long time and he intended it to never happen again. If he was to name his favorite thing about being him, it would have to be the fact that he was a wizard. That was one of the perks of being Harry Potter.

The dormitory room was draped in red in gold. Pure sunlight streamed in through the window that gave a sneak peek of the blue sky outside and surrounding mountain range. It bounced off dust motes floating through the air and glittered off Harry's glasses on his bedside table. He placed a scarred hand on his glasses and shoved them on his face. Bad vision was another not-perk of being Harry Potter.

He could smell the stink of chicken in the room. Last night's supper still lingered on his roommates' breath. Ron had probably skipped brushing his teeth and Harry knew for a fact that Neville only used poorly preformed hygiene charms to keep his somewhat clean. On top of the chicken smell –nauseating- was the smell of humans. Their bodies stank of their humanity deliciously- disgusting, it was disgusting. Harry mentally berated himself. Friends, not food.

It was slightly disorienting to suddenly find oneself craving human flesh. Harry didn't remember a time when he hadn't. The disease had struck him at a young age when a Death Eater released to try and kill him. Most wizards lost their mind when infected, Harry envied them. Instead he got to enjoy the slow burn. Sometimes it really bothered him, slowly losing his humanity. Sometimes he didn't feel anything at all. Other than the hunger that is. He was always hungry.

The thought of breakfast brought him no joy. His medication was out so why would it? The only breakfast he desired was wearing Hogwarts robes and definitely out of bounds. No eating people, was rule number one. The idea of devouring his friends in a bout of insanity made him sick, or maybe that was just the hunger pains. He usually couldn't tell the difference. That was the slow burn, slowly blurring the lines until SNAP! And then they would kill him as he knew they'd been waiting for, for years.

The castle was just coming awake when he arrived in the Great Hall. Sleepy students were sitting at the house tables bathed in sunlight, chatting idly about Quidditch and schoolwork. Up at the staff table he could see Dumbledore watching him. The old man was always watching with those piercing blue eyes. Today he was wearing salmon pink robes. Brilliant, another thing to remind him of flesh.

The sea of flesh slowly filled up. More faces, more names he'd forgotten. One face in particular stood out; Draco Malfoy. The pale boy with platinum hair and silver coins for eyes. He looked rather downtrodden today. Harry felt a smug grin come to his lips, it served the prat right. Draco Malfoy was his sworn enemy and not someone he'd mind eating. He bet he would taste sour, like lemons. A bitter taste for a bitter boy. Once again he had to stop his train of thought. Friends –well not in this case, but he knew what he meant-, not food.

Hermione and Ron joined him at the Gryffindor table. Hermione Granger had very bushy brown hair –although she could make it sleek when she wanted- and keen brown eyes. He knew she was smarter than him but that long since had stopped mattering to him. Ron on the other hand was fireworks where she the comforting glow of a candle to read by. Ron had hair that glowed like fire in the morning sun and blue eyes that were chips of the sky. They were Harry's best friends and his strongest anchors to his humanity.

"Harry you don't look very good," Hermione said anxiously, touching his forehead and jerking back in surprise, "You have a fever! I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey's I'm sure she can-"

"I'm fine," Harry interrupted wearily, "Really Hermione. My medication ran out and I haven't been supplied a new brew yet."

She launched into a tirade of hot abuse against Snape for keeping Harry waiting, while he just listened, giving a 'Mmhm' and 'Yeah' at appropriate moments. His head hurt and he just wished he could go somewhere very dark and quiet with no humans. It wasn't an option, but he still wished it was. Maybe he should look in to having a nice cave constructed, one with a bed and carpet.

"You look like death, mate," Ron said quietly when Hermione had paused for a breath.

"Of course he does!" Hermione said angrily, "His medication is what keeps him alive! I'll be appealing directly to McGonagall! I can't believe they'd let Snape make such a blunder. This isn't even the first time!"

Hermione and Ron were under the impression Harry was chronically sick. It was true, but a half-truth and half a half-truth at that. They didn't know he dreamt of eating them, that their blood would taste as sweet as honey to him, that their flesh was the perfect meat to sate his hungers. They didn't know his medication was the only thing keeping his hunger under control and slowly the process of mental deterioration. It didn't keep him alive; it just kept him from dying. There were many things they didn't know and Harry wasn't going to be the one to tell them.

"You're not eating," Hermione finally said into the silence, "Aren't you hungry?"

"No," The lie tasted sour on his tongue.

"Eat some toast at least," Hermione wheedled, peering at his face, "Harry you really do look sick, maybe-"

"I'm fine, Hermione!" Harry said loudly, but all the same buttered himself some toast.

It tasted like ashes in his mouth. Everything tasted like ashes. He could touch it, smell it, dream of the taste, but the second it touched his tongue it tasted of something burnt. Another not-perk of being Harry Potter was the fact that he was in fact a human volcano. His stomach was always filled with magma and anything that touched his tongue became ashes. The Boy Who Lived was the Living Volcano. He almost laughed at his own joke. Almost.

Everything was going well until lunch. He could smell them a mile away as he rushed through the empty corridors, but of course, like an idiot, he had assumed they weren't coming for him. There were many angry people in Hogwarts; it was just a scent that came along with their humanity. If he had known what these angry people were after, he probably would have stayed with Snape.

"Oi! Potter!"

He turned to see a group of Slytherins. They were seventh year judging by their figure but their faces didn't spark any memories for him. It wasn't like he spent his time memorizing Slytherins' faces. These faces looked angry though, and he could feel his body tense. So that was the hatred he had scented, and of course it had come for him. Idiot! Who else was roaming these deserted halls than him? Snape had been so kind as to hold him back after class, the git.

"What do you want?" He asked, annoyed.

"What do you want?" One of the Slytherins mimicked in a high pitched voice. The others broke into laughter and Harry felt himself flush. Today was not the day to pick a fight with him.

"Budge off or I'll jinx you," He said, reaching for his wand.

In a split second jets of colored lights were flying towards him along with a chorus of shouts. He was quick however and his hasty shield charm deflected most of the curses. The air rippled as the force of the jinxes that hadn't gotten through raced towards him. It felt like a dull punch to his chest but was still enough to wind him. He staggered and his head throbbed.

He sent a blasting charm at them and ran, swearing under his breath. Their footsteps echoed loudly behind him on the stone floor as they gave chase. Jets of light kept bouncing off of the walls around him with pops and crackles, but he ignored them and ran faster. Occasionally he'd send jinxes over his shoulder and once, judging by the yell and thud, he'd actually hit one of the targets who had been too slow to deflect it.

His breath was coming in ragged pants when he finally reached the stairs leading out of the dungeons. His body felt like spaghetti, his limbs felt loose and weak. He swore loudly as he began to run up the stairs; it was because he hadn't taken his fucking medication! Suddenly the world blurred as his head gave a nasty throb and he felt a blinding pain in his kneecaps. Sounds rushed back as the world swam back into focus and he heard whoops of laughter behind him. Groaning in pain, he pulled himself off of the stone steps and tried to continue on.

A hand closed around his foot and he cried out in pain as his –probably fractured- kneecap screamed. He twisted around and shot a jinx directly into the dumb Slytherin's face. The Slytherin let go in shock and went tumbling down the stairs. Harry was about to continue running when he smelled it.

Everything seemed to slow down while speeding up. The coppery scent violated his nostrils in the most seductive of ways and he greedily filed his lungs with the scent. He could hear his heartbeat speed up and it thundered in his ears as he turned around. Blood. Its glistening crimson drops were sprayed across the stone. The Slytherin had cut his arm open on a sharp step. Harry felt his foot touch the next step down. The blood was so red and it smelled delicious.

Everything seemed to have taken on a shimmering quality. Lights were too bright and the yelling Slytherins seemed to echo from a great distance away. Harry's heartbeat thudded like a drum as he took another step forward. He could already taste it on his tongue; he licked his sharpened teeth in anticipation. Saliva had begun to flow like it hadn't in years and he had to swallow back a mouthful. One taste. He took another step forward.

The bell rang and it all came crashing down. Reality flooded back like a punch to the gut and he nearly doubled over. He could hear the panicked cries as the Slytherins tried to awaken their friend; he could feel the muggy air against his skin. What was he doing? It took him a couple seconds to remember who he was. His heart skipped a beat in fear as he realized what he'd been about to do. Monster!

Harry turned and ran. Every step caused him to gasp in pain, his knees fucking hurt. He slammed into something solid and he heard a familiar voice swear. Panic filled him like white hot fire and he tried to move but his legs were too slow. Malfoy grabbed his arm and spun him around, his mouth opened in a snarl, but then he froze. Harry knew why.

He could see himself reflected in Malfoy's coin-like eyes. His face was paler than usual and drawn in fear, but the real attractions were his eyes. They looked as though someone had spilled ink into them and then painted his irises a bone white. Red rimmed them angrily like he had been crying. Demonic eyes. Harry watched Malfoy's expression turn horrified and his grip slackened. Taking his chance, Harry shoved off Malfoy and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

A/N Drop me a review and tell me what you think! I'm very glad you've read my story this far and I hope you'll stay with me.