The story starts with a 25 year old Harry. This first chapter is just a little bit of background but the second chapter should really kick the story off. All reviews will be welcome. Don't be shy, I'm pretty thick skinned.


"Miss White, would you mind giving me a hand back here please?"  the young chemist called. "Sure thing." At 25 years old the young chemist was not what you would call a striking man. He wasn't unattractive, but then he didn't really stand out either. This is something he was very grateful for. With untidy dark brown hair and a lean and muscular build, he could have been anyone. One thing that was striking about this young man were his eyes, which were the deepest emerald green you'll ever see and became lighter or darker depending on his mood. Not many people knew that he had a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead either because he kept his untidy hair long enough to hide his scar.

Peculiar things seemed to happen when he was around though. For instance, it seemed to his young assistant that the various items he would need to mix a particular medication had just suddenly arrived to rest on his work bench from their various places around the room when she had turned her back. She could have sworn that they hadn't been there just a few seconds ago. She could also have sworn that she heard him mutter something like "flaxxino", or "have a go", but again, she couldn't really be sure. She decided right then that she needed a coffee. A strong one. "Why did he call me over when he didn't really need me?! Typical bloody male!"

This young chemist really is an extraordinary young man though. You see, he is Harry Potter, and anyone who's anyone knows the history of Harry Potter. Though Harry wished they didn't, because he felt like a specimen in a museum the way people talked about him and stared at him, particularly at the scar on his forehead. 

Harry did not understand how important he was to the wizarding world until the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts, after the death of Sirius Black, his godfather. A prophecy had all those who had ever heard it that this young boy was the only one in the world who could kill Voldemort, the darkest of dark wizards. Harry was destined to either kill Voldemort, or be killed by him.

He was forbidden to return to his aunt and uncle after his fifth year, and was instead given over to intense and severe training for his upcoming battle. Harry thought this was all more than a little unfair. He didn't want to the saviour of the wizarding world. In fact, in his opinion, the wizarding world couldn't  have picked a more inappropriate hero.

Harry was enormously clumsy (kept dropping his bloody wand and Ron kept tripping over it!) and very shortsighted. He didn't want to even think about what would happen if his glasses were knocked off during the battle. Half his luck though. He didn't think he was overly furnished in the brain department (good thing he was friends with Hermione then). He did, however, concede that he had enormous power. He also added that it wasn't much good if he couldn't use it properly. Hence the training.

He spent three years doing nothing but training. He did physical training to develop his body. He studied until he thought his eyes would fall out of his head. He studied hexes, curses, defences, history, etc.  Toward the end of his training period, he understood so much about the origins and derivatives of certain spells that he even developed a few interesting hexes of his own. He studied various fighting styles. He studied wizard's dueling, muggle's dueling, street fighting, martial arts. To add to this, he was trained to use different types of weapons. After all, a wizard isn't much good if he drops his wand now is he. His weapon of choice was a small 0.45 revolver, though he was a damn good shot with a sniper's rifle. Perhaps one of the most important lessons he learned was to utilise his magic and focus his will without a wand.

Apparently a wand was used to focus the will of the wizard. This means that a wizard should be able to focus his will without his wand, though all wizards have admitted that this is very difficult and few can actually do it. Harry indeed mastered this form of wizardry. He found that he preferred to rely on his wand for certain things, such as using simple hexes like the full body bind, or the jelly legs. He preferred not to rely on his wand to do certain other things, such as summoning objects (or people – an interesting experiment during his training that led to many laps around the acreage as punishment!) and doing such mundane things as heating his blankets at night.

Harry was a dangerous young man when he completed his training at the hands of the Ministry Aurors (only those that could be trusted by Dumbledore of course – after all, there was a war on and not many people's loyalty could be assured) and the various muggle military and weapons specialists that were brought in for just this purpose. His reflexes were lightning fast and his power and agility were incredible. Unfortunately, in a certain way, this just made Harry feel even worse about himself. He could never blend in as young Mr Potter. He was, after all, the boy-who-lived. Now, he was, quite possibly, the most powerful wizard alive. His power had always been superior to even Dumbledore's, as he was not only born a powerful wizard but Voldemort had also transferred some of his power to Harry in his first attempt to kill him as a fifteen month old baby. Now that he had such a high level of control over his power, he was…amazing. And, destined to be isolated from everybody else for the rest of his life. His greatest wish of all was just to be normal. You know, the average Joe that no one would look twice at.

The war had been continuing in his absence and many losses had been accounted for on both sides. A final showdown was scheduled. Voldemort arranged for Professor Snape to kidnap Harry and bring him to the Dark Lord so that he could be killed once and for all. Voldemort's plan, however, crumbled. Professor Snape, the spy among spies, had informed Dumbledore of the plan immediately and arrangements were made for a showdown of enormous magnitude to follow. As Harry was taken to Voldemort, the members of the Order apparated to his hideout and busied themselves by killing the Dark Lord's Death Eaters and followers, which left Harry free to deal with Voldemort. And he did. Spectacularly. The final battle between himself and Voldemort was horrific. It was bloody and violent. It seemed that Harry might have lost at one point though. You see, despite how powerful Harry had become, and how well trained he was, he was still a young man and still felt a dreadful guilt and sense of shame when he had to kill people. He had killed though, numerous times – Death Eaters and spies. But killing people was something that he felt that he would never get used to, nor did he really want to.  Voldemort and Harry faced each other, exhausted, bloody and both knew that the first one to make a mistake at that point would die. As it turned out, Voldemort's biggest mistake was to insult Harry's parents.

"Potter, did you know that I took you parents before I killed them? Yes Potter. I raped their young and beautiful bodies and broke them before I killed them!"

Harry saw red and killed Voldemort with a spell he had developed himself. A combination of the Avada Kedavra and a spell which ate through a person from the inside out. Voldemort's end had been violent and brutal. But the war was over. Harry was taken to St Mungo's to recover and that is the last that anyone from the wizarding world ever saw of him. One minute he was there and when the nurse returned he had gone. Disappeared.

Albus Dumbledore was notified immediately. Minerva would tell others that he couldn't speak for fully ten minutes and after that, for the next few hours the only words he could be heard to say were "Oh Harry, I am so sorry."

No one from the wizarding world knew that Harry had fled to begin a new life in muggle London. He had awoken in St Mungo's and had healed himself as much as he could (which wasn't much, but it was enough) and then had left the world he had come to both love and hate. He had been planning an escape for quite some time and had already emptied "Harry Potter's" account and had opened another account in "Jason Green's" name. Unbeknownst to anyone, he had spent some time in muggle England and had legally changed his name to Jason Green in a small and out of the way registry.  It was a simple matter then to use a concealment charm to alter his appearance and walk into Gringotts and withdraw sufficient money from his account to convert into muggle money and walk out of the wizarding world without any intention of returning.


Harry turned the key in the door to his flat and entered his home.

"Jason, I'm in the kitchen."

"Mmm, it smells great," he replied, encircling his arms around his partner and placing small kisses along the side of his neck. Harry rested his head on his lover's shoulder and watched as he added the finishing touches to the dinner he was preparing for the both of them. It was the simple things like this that made him the happiest and the feeling of contentment tugged sharply on his heart strings.

"You, on the other hand, smell like a sweaty man that's spent all day in a pharmacy! Go and have a shower!" Greg cried, pushing Harry away from him and in the direction of the bathroom.

Laughing, Harry yelled out, "Close, I'm a man that's spent all day in a pharmacy and then spent an hour in the gym afterwards, but 10 points for being close. You could join me if you like," Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"As tempting as that is, I think I'll stay with the dinner. We may never end up eating dinner if I hop in there with you."

"How do you know I didn't just want you to wash my back?"

"You told me that your arms have been broken and dislocated so many times that you don't need anyone to wash your back because you have freaky arms that can twist themselves in bizarre angles. Try another excuse, I've heard that one before."

"Can't say I didn't offer!"

"Idiot!" Greg muttered to himself. "But you're my idiot, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Dinner was cosy and intimate. Harry was a very private man and treasured the time he could spend alone with his lover and partner. Harry was an excellent cook but he didn't cook very often. He had had enough of cooking when he lived with the Dursleys. Greg, on the other hand loved to cook. He was a chef in a very posh restaurant in London. In fact, that was where they had first met. Seven years ago, Harry had been a week in muggle London and had just moved into his flat. He decided to treat himself to a nice lunch at Chateaux, which was rumoured to be expensive, serve good food, have excellent service and afford people lots of privacy while they were eating.

Most of Harry's life had been spent in the limelight up until that point and he had developed a small case of social phobia. It was unobtrusive as far as it went though. He didn't like spending time with large crowds of people but rarely had panic attacks over it unless he felt truly smothered.

The meal that Harry enjoyed had been so good that he went to compliment the chef personally. A close friendship had developed at that point and the two had quickly become lovers and partners. As such, Greg considered it an insult if Harry didn't let him cook for the both of them each evening.

"I have a surprise for you. Actually, it's as much for me as it is for you, but it was done more for you than for me. At least I think so…"

"Greg, I have absolutely no idea what you said after 'I have a surprise for you' but carry on, I'm sure I'll catch up soon enough." Harry loved Greg's round about way of talking when he was excited. Usually he had to wait until Greg was done and ask some pretty specific questions to catch up. It was hilarious.

"So I went ahead and booked us a hotel for two days. Isn't that great?!"

The sides of Harry's mouth twitched as he fought to suppress the laughter that he could feel building up inside his chest. It was the 'let's throw Harry a crumb and see how long it takes for him to catch up' game that they routinely played. "Greg, it's fantastic, but when did you plan the holiday for?"

"Didn't I tell you?"

"No – no you didn't."

"This weekend. We've been talking about it for ages."

"Actually this is the first I've heard of it so you must have been talking about it for ages with yourself."

"Oh. You are free this weekend, aren't you?"

"Of course, and even if I weren't I'd make myself available just for you."

Greg flushed and smiled, feeling the stirrings of love pulling at his heart. Jason was perfect for him. Light hearted and good humoured enough to deal with his eccentricities but passionate and intense in the love he felt for him. "You know, I might just have to take you up on that later."

"I certainly hope so. So you didn't tell me where this hotel is."

Shaking himself out of his idle fantasies about what he planned on doing to Jason later that evening, Greg replied, "The Highlands in Scotland".

"You'll have to be a little more specific than that, babe. Scotland is a big place."

"I've got a map, I'll show you later. How about you do the dishes this evening and then we can have an early night. Or not so early really, I'm going to have a shower and then I have some rather interesting plans for you this evening Mr. Green…"

All plans were for naught though. By the time Greg finished his shower Harry was asleep on his side on their bed. Arms and legs spread out in all directions as if he had literally dropped down on his side and fallen asleep when he hit the bed.  "Poor little lamb. I'll let you off this evening, but don't think you'll get off so lightly next time." Greg placed a sweet kiss on Harry's temple and then climbed onto their bed. Harry didn't even stir as he climbed onto the bed and spooned up behind him, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist and nuzzling into Harry's neck, placing small kisses onto the back of his neck before falling asleep himself.

Meanwhile, Harry was in hell. All around him people were flinging hexes. There was blood, so much blood and the moans of the injured and dying was more than he could bear. Everything was tinged red. His scar was bleeding right into his eyes but he couldn't afford to take his eyes off the evil wizard before him.

"Potter, did you know that I took you parents before I killed them? Yes Potter. I raped their young and beautiful bodies and broke them before I killed them!"


"Jason!  Jason, snap out of it. Wake up. C'mon. Wake up."  Greg was shaking Harry as hard as he could. "Not again," he thought. How is it that one person can have so many nightmares? What has he seen? And more silently, he thought to himself, Why can't he tell me about it? Pushing these thoughts to the back of his head, he hurried to their bathroom to fill a jug with cold water. He returned to their room and poured the cold water over Harry, who woke up spluttering and choking. Greg had long since learned that this was the only way to wake him up when he was taken by one of his nightmares. Jason would never talk to him about it, and Greg would never push him. The nightmare seemed so horrific that Greg considered it couldn't be easy to talk about or relive. If he wanted to talk, he'd be there to listen. If not, he'd still be there to support and comfort him.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…" cried Harry as he wrapped his arms about himself and cried, rocking himself back and forth on the bed. Greg put the jug down and leaped up on to the bed to sit behind Harry and cradle him from behind.

"Sshhh. It's o.k. I've got you baby and I'm not letting go." Harry continued to cry. His body was racked with sobs. Greg rocked Harry until he finished crying and fell into an exhausted sleep. "What have you seen, lover? What could be so bad? I won't let them get you baby. Don't you worry."


It was only 5:30am when Harry woke up with a corker of a headache. A pressure headache. He was sitting up in bed and his lover was holding him from behind.  "My hero," he murmured. "Always saving me from myself." Harry shifted himself in Greg's arms which caused Greg to stir. He placed a long and lingering kiss on Greg's lips. "Morning sunshine." Greg opened his eyes and blinked groggily. Man. His back ached and so did his neck. He would never complain though. He'd endure all of this and more for the man who was in his arms. "Hey sexy," he whispered to Harry.

"Thank you, love. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You can't help it. People don't just ask for nightmares you know. Here, you go." He reached over to the bedside table and handed Harry two Panadeine tablets along with a glass of water.

Harry swallowed the tablets and the water and settled back in Greg's arms. "I love you so much. What would I do without you?"

"Just sleep, tired one. I'll be here when you wake up."


"Jason, I'm just going to duck out and get some milk. I'll be back in about ten minutes."

"Hmmmm..." Harry replied sleepily.

It was a little while later when Harry was awoken by banging on the door of the flat. "Greg, is someone at the door?...Greg…."

Is he still out?   Harry thought to himself.

Harry quickly pulled on a dressing gown and went to open the door. He was greeted by two somber looking policeman who flashed their identity badges before him.

"Excuse me sir, does Mr. Jason Green live here?"

Oh, dear God! screamed his head. A feeling of dread had settled into the pit of his stomach, but outwardly he looked at the two officers and replied, "I'm Jason Green. Can I help you?"

"May we come in?"