Lost

Disclaimer: We claim no rights to the characters of Harry Potter or the Twilight series. No profit is being made from the circulation of this fictional work and characters still belong to their respective writers.

Warnings: AU, Harry Potter/Twilight Crossover, violence, adult situations, M/M Slash.

Pairing: Edward Cullen/Harry Potter

Summary: After defeating Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter is left with no recollection of his accomplishments and life—and magic. In hopes of protecting him from the magical world, Professor McGonagall sends him to a remote location, Forks, Washington. Little does anyone know how Edward Cullen will take Harry's arrival. The pair are instantly drawn to each other, but Harry's new simple life can't last. The magical world won't wait for him for long, but where does his old professor, Severus Snape, fit into all of this?

Prologue: Running Blind

Harry, what are you doing?

His legs were too tired to keep moving, but he knew if he stopped running he was resigned to death. It was better to try, to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He couldn't imagine how things had turned out like this. His memories, those that had come back, were a blur, completely unhelpful. How could he defend himself when he couldn't remember his greatest power?

Harry was a disappointment. He was weak. Edward and Jacob and the other Cullens both would suffer for his shortcomings now. All he could do was run through the trees. His glasses slipped down his nose and he pushed them back up. He couldn't see very well in the forest even with them. The underbrush was thick, a testament to the heavy rain in this region of the world, and the trees grew in every direction, not simply straight towards the sky, but leaning over each other, reaching everywhere.

Perhaps it wasn't worth running anymore. He could hear Severus' voice in his head, a distant memory he couldn't quite connect to his world.

Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily—weak people, in other words—they stand no chance against his powers!

Who had he been and who had he fought in the past? His life in Forks was proof that whatever he had done before, he had never been strong enough to fight for anything.

He hit the break in the trees and came to the clearing where he and Edward had laid side by side in the grass, their gazes uncomplicated, the outside world forgotten. It was here that Harry could forget about his doubts and his questions about the life he couldn't remember in England, where Edward could be a boy and not a demon trapped forever at seventeen. His tired legs couldn't carry him any further and he collapsed onto his knees. How fitting that his body would lead him here, of all places, to die.

It was too dark in the meadow for him to see, but Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. They were out there, lurking beyond the treeline, playing with him. A trail of blood ran down his cheek and he tried to wipe it away with the back of his hand but it was too thick and full of life. It smeared across his pale skin. He had failed them, his old friends back at home and his new friends here in Forks. He had brought them nothing but trouble.

But another voice navigated through the haze of his memories and made itself know. He didn't know if he could heed it, but it made him look up as they approached and face them with eyes open.

We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on.