Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. Therefore, I am sadly bereft of ownership of the Harry Potter universe. Please don't sue!

I have always liked the dark. The dark meant safe. It meant I was in my cupboard, and no-one ever hurt me when I was in there. Uncle Vernon didn't fit, nor Dudley for that matter, and Aunt Petunia would never lower herself to that. I felt secure there in a way that I never did anywhere else. Maybe, given my past, I should be claustrophobic. But I only am when I am locked in places, no matter how big or small. Otherwise, the dark takes over and I feel secure. In control. Invincible.

It is, perhaps, ironic that the Boy Who Lived, the icon of the Light, should find such comfort in darkness. But I do, nevertheless.

My love of the dark is, in part, why I am sitting under the quidditch stands at 2 in the morning, pressing a tissue against my once again injured limb, shivering.

You would never expect there to be so much light in a building at night. But there is. Torches on the corridor walls, lights from teachers' quarters, Filch's glowing lantern as he makes his rounds. The glow that the ghosts give off, nightlights, common room fires. The only other places that are as dark as my current position are broom cupboards, positioned around the castle. And they are too risky, too often checked by night patrol duty teachers or Filch, or invaded by groping couples. No, here is best. Even if I do have goosepimples, and my old scars stand out on my skin, looking like something out of a science fiction film.

This, sitting here, has become part of my daily routine. Which, in all, goes something like this; wake up at 5am, wash, dress, apply glamour, go to kitchen to collect breakfast from house elves, go for run, dispose of breakfast in the process, greet Ron and Hermione, go to lessons, grab some lunch from the Great Hall and dispose of it on the way to the Library, do homework in the Library, go to lessons, go to dinner and get the third degree from Hermione for not eating enough, protest that I have eaten plenty throughout the day and am not hungry, wash, dress, ostensibly go to bed, get up once the other guys in the dorm start snoring, walk to quidditch ground, run, sit under stands, go back to bed at about 2.30am, sleep, have nightmares, etc.

I really haven't got the energy to walk back right now. I'm freezing, and exhausted, and starving. And I deserve it all. I almost wish I could just stay here, and die from the cold. But, I really must go back. I sigh, and force myself to get up. I drag myself from under the stands, and start to trudge back to the castle.

Which is when everything goes wrong.

A/N: I knoww, it probably doesn't really make a lot of sense yet. And I know it's too short. But I really wanted to end it there. And I promise that all will be revealed shortly :D
R&R please