A/N: This is my new story. It's a bit darker and more adult that my other one. I wanted to write stories that anyone can read, HPWCHB is a story for younger readers and those who like adventure and lighters stories. This one is darker and directed to those who prefer romance and angst.

Please enjoy,

Lino Snape

There was darkness inside of him, emptiness, and it threatened to consume him. He didn't know what to do about it. He wasn't even sure what he felt about it. He just knew it was there. It started during the summer, on the night of his 17th birthday. The day itself had been alright. Harry had gotten cards from Remus and Hagrid, his usual package from Mrs. Weasley, and a bit of parchment that read, 'you've lived another year, Hurrah.' from Draco Malfoy. He had Draco had come to a truce at the end of the last year, and by truce they meant 'no more hexing where teachers can see because I hate having detention with you Potter!' It had become a bit of a grudging mutual amity that was dotted with jinxes and sarcastic comments. It was better than nothing, which is what he got from both Ron and Hermione.

Harry was woken up by a strange feeling in his body. It was as if all his nerve endings had dulled and couldn't feel anything anymore. Worse than being painful, it was nothing. He felt nothing. Looking at the clock on his bedside table, Harry saw it was 1 in the morning. He got off of his bed and went into the bathroom next door. Closing the door and turning on the light next to the mirror, he turned the left knob and put his hand under the water until it was the right temperature. He stood there for almost five minutes before remembering he couldn't feel much of anything, even if he could feel the strange, temperatureless feeling of water running over his hand. He was astonished by it. He knew the water was boiling hot because he could see the steam rising from it. He watched it is as it cascaded over his hand, not burning him or even feeling warm at all.

He cupped both hands under the running faucet and splashed water over his face but stopped, the water draining from between limp hands as he looked at his reflection. Harry looked the same as always, messy dark hair, his scar and his bright green eyes, but there was still something off about his reflection. He tilted his head from left to right, trying to see what was different when something glinted back at him. Shocked, Harry stilled. It was his eyes. While they were still bright green, behind them was a glinting silver which gave his eyes a metallic sheen. Equally as shocking as this was to Harry was the fact that when he had left his room he had forgotten to put on his glasses yet he could see perfectly .He was also taller. Much taller than his normal 5'8 inches. He stood there, staring at himself, confused. What was going on? Suddenly feeling extremely fearful, Harry scrambled back to his room and shut the door behind him as if something malevolent was following him. Leaning against the door and breathing hard, Harry tried to calm himself down and think rationally. Maybe this was nothing at all. Maybe it was a side effect of being an adult wizard. His of-age friends hadn't mentioned anything like this, but then again, he hadn't asked either, had he? It was no wonder why, he thought bitterly, any relief from his previous thought draining as he remembered that he hadn't heard from his 'friends' all summer. He had sent out many letters with Hedwig who would always come back with them unopened. He had sent a letter to Dumbledore as well at the beginning of the summer, worried his friends might be in danger, and Dumbledore had replied that they were both well and spending time with their families. This had hurt Harry deeply and he had refused to think about it until then. Now, it just made Harry angry. Harry was used to neglect, but not from people who had pretended to care about him. He felt betrayed and hopeless. In that moment, that hopelessness turned into a black void that seemed to steal any emotions other than indifference from him. He felt like a bottomless pit of nothingness.

Harry straightened from his slump against the door and lay down on his bed again, looking blankly at the ceiling over his head. Harry didn't fall asleep, but saw that it was starting to get light outside. It was almost 7 in the morning. He should get up and start getting breakfast ready. Since Uncle Vernon and Dudley were away visiting Aunt Marge, Harry had been left at home with Aunt Petunia. She wasn't as strict as Vernon was about when breakfast should be ready, so Harry was allowed to sleep in until 7 before having to get up rather than waking up at 5. Slowly, Harry rose from his bed and slid his feet into his thread-bare, hand-me-down slippers and opened his bedroom door. Making his way down the stairs, Harry went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and got to work collecting the things he would need to start making breakfast. About half an hour later, Harry had just finished frying the bacon and was taking the biscuits out of the oven when he heard someone else enter the room. Knowing it was Aunt Petunia, Harry made no move to do anything that continue what he was doing, taking the biscuits off the tray and putting them in a plate and placing it on the table. With his back still to her, Harry went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice, placed it on the table and sat down. Aunt Petunia made no move to do the same. In fact, she hadn't moved at all since she had entered the kitchen. Upon seeing her nephew, she had had the strangest sensation, as if she was falling asleep and everything that was happening at the moment was a dream. It had the same hazy, unrealistic texture that dreams often had, so she was inclined to believe it was one. She was also feeling incredibly warm. After putting food on both of their plates, Harry looked up at his aunt and stared at what he saw. She was standing there, her jaw slack, her eyes glazed over and a light flush on her cheeks. Her blank stare fell on Harry and she moved towards him very slowly, almost as if she were gliding towards him. Harry saw this and started eating. He stopped when instead of going to her seat, Aunt Petunia stopped in front of him.

"Breakfast, Aunt Petunia?" he asked coolly. Her eyes never left his as she reached out a hand to caress his cheek gently. Harry felt a shiver go down his spine. He could actually feel her hand, her warmth. What was this? Involuntarily, he leaned into her touch and found himself purring. It felt so good. The feeling of emptiness was starting to ease up a little bit. He turned his chair so he was facing her and let her continue caressing his face, running her hands through his hair. He wanted more. His body was aching for more. His body wanted the emptiness to disappear. As if she had read this thoughts, she got closer to Harry until she was straddling his lap. Harry could feel her body heat through their clothes and the emptiness went away a little more. He wanted her closer, he wanted more warmth. He pulled her flush against himself and his purring got louder. She reached in between their bodies, pressing her hand against his chest and moved it lower and lower until she got the waistband of Harry's boxers. He hadn't bothered to change after getting out of bed to make breakfast. Harry gasped quietly as she grasped his flaccid member and started stroking. This was much better, this was what he wanted. He felt warmer and the emptiness went a little further away. When Harry was hard and dripping and panting, Petunia got up off of his lap. This was a strange dream she was having and she wasn't sure why she couldn't wake up. She might as well see where it was going to go.

She unbuttoned the white blouse she was wearing and unhooked her bra, letting her breasts fall free. They were plump and round, her nipples hard and begging for a touch. Harry obliged. Rising from his seat, he pushed Petunia down until she was lying on the ground, the flush in her face more pronounced as she let out a wanton moan when Harry palmed her left breast. He lowered his head and suckled on the other until Aunt Petunia was writhing on the ground, moaning and mewling. Reaching between her legs with his free hand, Harry tore off her underwear and without ceremony entered her with a deep purr. The emptiness was nearly gone, he could barely feel it. Just a bit more. He thrust wildly into her, harder and harder, she arched her back and cried out at some of his harder thrusts but felt nothing but pleasure. The faster and harder Harry thrust, the more the emptiness faded. He was almost there. As Petunia clenched her thighs in the beginning of her climax, Harry thrust into her a few more times before emptying himself inside of her. As he did, he expected the emptiness to leave completely. It didn't. It came back with a vengeance. Harry felt even more desolate and hollow than he had before. He came with a high pitched keening sound that sounded like every sorrowful sound ever heard mixed together as one.

Aunt Petunia woke up in her bed. She sat up rapidly, remembering the dream she had had. It was a deeply disturbing dream. She had dreamt she had had wild, animalistic sex with her nephew. Disgusted with herself, Petunia went downstairs to make herself a cup of tea. The lazy boy probably hadn't made breakfast yet, she thought sourly as she entered the kitchen. What she found there astonished her.

Lying on the floor was something leathery, black and pulsating. Wings, she realized. Something was curled up in two large, black, bat-like wings in the middle of her kitchen. The wings were covered in blood and what looked like torn skin, as was her kitchen. Looking around she saw scraps of her favorite white blouse and one of her pairs of panties hanging off of the faucet in the sink. So it wasn't a dream, she thought, her whole face turning red and her eyes widening in disbelief. Then what—

At this moment the wings unfurled, revealing the half-naked body lying, shivering on the floor. Suddenly his head turned and his metallic green eyes pierced Aunt Petunia's soul. She fell to her knees because they could no longer support her as she looked into the face of something from her nightmares. Its body was the size of a man's, roughly six feet tall. It had two large wings that hung from its back like a long cloak rather than folding in closer to its body and was riddled with holes. Its chest was bare and muscular, flexing threateningly at her. Its forearms and calves were covered with black fur and its hands and feet were talons with sharp claws. Its face was that of her nephew, but with higher, sharper cheekbones, fangs that protruded from under its upper lip and a cruel glint in its eyes that was only superseded by the emptiness behind them. It got up on all fours and arched its back, it's long tail lashing from side to side and the hairs that went down its spine rising and forming a crest that stopped only at the nape of Harry's hair.

Harry, felt numb again. He couldn't feel the cold linoleum that he was lying on. He couldn't feel the sun's warmth as the light rotated and fell on him as time passed. Unexpectedly, he felt a sharp pain in his back that contrasted nicely with the numbness he felt everywhere else. He watched the graceful arcs of blood as something tore out of him. He felt an itching starting in his arms and lifted one to his face. His hand was covered in fur and his fingernails were turning to claws. His arm fell limply to the floor as Harry realized he didn't care anymore, he couldn't care anymore. He couldn't move any part of his body as things broke and fixed themselves. Instinctually, Harry wrapped his wings around himself so he wouldn't see or hear anything either.

Harry's body stopped shifting things and moving them around. He unfurled the wings from around himself and saw his Aunt standing there and watched as she fell to her knees. As she grew more and more pale, Harry could feel himself slowly regaining a little bit of will to live. He could keep going. He had to keep going. He had to find the something that would take the void away. He turned away from his aunt, his mind no longer on her, so he didn't notice when she tumbled to the ground, her eyes wide open, her skin as pale as paper and her lungs no longer breathing. He rose completely and went into the living room. There was only one place he could go now and maybe he would find answers there as well.

Harry stepped out of the fire to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Remus, who had been reading the newspaper in front of the fire started and grabbed his wand when the fire turned green, pointing it at the intruder. There were only two places that had floo access to Grimmauld Place. Seeing what was in front of his eyes and believing it were two different things entirely. No, he thought, it can't be.

"Harry?" he asked incredulously, lowering his wand slowly, for there indeed stood Harry Potter though he didn't look like himself at all. Remus had only seen this once before, but it was impossible—

"Sirius, what have you done?"

Harry had been surprised to see Remus there in front of the fire. Usually the other man was in the library or in his room. Harry had bared his fangs in a knee-jerk reaction to the wand being pointed at him and Remus had growled at him thought it seemed the man didn't know he had, because he stood there looking as surprised as ever.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, and then blinked. His voice was deep and seductive and dripped sensuality. Remus seemed immune to it though, because he looked at Harry thoughtfully before gesturing at the other chair in front of the fire. They both sat, Harry gingerly, afraid he might hurt his wings, and Remus, flopping down tiredly, looking old beyond his years as he looked at his best friend's son.

"Oh, Harry. I don't know where to start." He sighed wearily. He stared into the fire for a few minutes. It had gone back from green to red and gold. Harry was sitting, waiting, and losing his patience.

"How about you start at the beginning?" Harry growled. Remus' eyes flashed gold for a second and he sat up straight and looked at Harry sternly.

"Harry…" Harry got up and started pacing, his wings dragging behind him like a cloak that was too long.

"No! I'm tired of this. Why does everything like this have to happen to me? What am I? What have I done?" Harry was babbling in his agitation. Remus rose and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, stopping him. Harry snarled and snapped at it, Remus growled viciously and snapped back at Harry. The two of them stood there a foot apart, growling fiercely at each other. Remus regained himself first. Seeing Remus back down made Harry stop growling as well. As he realized what he had been doing, Harry threw himself into his chair and put his face in his hands, releasing a wail of despair. Remus sat stiffly.

"Well I suppose we could start there. We're both extremely dark creatures. I'm a werewolf and you are an Incubus." Harry raised his head at this.

"An Incubus? You mean that vampire that sleeps with women? How did I become one? Why did I become one? What am I going to do now?"

"An Incubus isn't a vampire. It's actually a storm god from ancient times. It puts people into a trance and has sex with them, trying to fill the void. Since the victims often wake up, muggles who have been…taken…by Incubi believe that they were seduced in their sleep. They often times feel drained as well because the incubus often takes some soul energy from the person. Muggles thought the drained feeling came from being drained of blood. That is where the vampire theory came from. As to how you became one, Harry. Well, you were cursed."

"Cursed?" Harry exclaimed loudly. "Cursed by who? Why?" Remus rubbed his forehead.

"I believe you were cursed by Sirius," Seeing Harry's stunned face, he continued, "but not on purpose! Do not misunderstand! Sirius was the one who was cursed, initially. He too was an Incubus. I believe that when he died and left you everything…he left you the curse as well, not knowing this would happen."

"Sirius…was like me?" Remus nodded. "But…he seemed so…"

"Happy?" Remus supplied. Harry thought about the word for a minute than nodded.

"Yeah, happy. All I feel is empty and hollow all the time." Remus looked at Harry knowingly and sadly, nodding.

"You will be like that until you can find the person who makes you whole, your soul mate."

"So Sirius had a soul mate? Who was it?" Harry pondered out loud, looking at the carpet. After a few moments of silence, he looked up to see Remus staring into the fire. His eyes were filled with unshed tears that reflected the flames that danced in the hearth. Harry understood.

"It was you, wasn't it?" It was more a statement that a question. Remus nodded solemnly.

"An Incubus satisfies its need for sustenance by taking part of the soul of a human being through one of the most soulful acts they can perform; making love. When you find the person who makes you whole, you no longer have to do that because your soul will feed off of theirs and theirs off of yours indefinitely." Harry pondered this thoroughly before asking suspiciously,

"What kind of person, exactly?" He knew that it wasn't going to be easy, after all, he was Harry fucking Potter. Remus nodded at Harry's astute question.

"They will also have to be a dark creature, for only a dark creature will be able to give their soul wholly unto you." Harry sighed as if he had known all along how it was going to be for him.

"How do I know that they're my soul mate?"

"It'll be someone you have known most of your life, someone you feel strongly for. This person won't suddenly become your soul mate, they already are. So don't worry. You'll both figure it out eventually." Harry rolled his eyes bitterly. He was going to die before he found his soul mate, if that was the case.

"I suppose you're going to want to stop looking like," here he gestured to Harry in general, "this, yes?" Harry snorted.

"That would be nice." He said dryly. Remus gave him a tired smile and taught him the strong glamour Sirius had used. When Harry had it down and could do it to himself, he turned to Remus again.

"If I can do this to myself, can't my soul mate as well? How will I know that they're a dark creature?"

"Dark creatures see each other as they really are. Looking at you, I can see through your glamour. I'm not as powerful a dark creature so I don't wear one, but look hard enough and you'll see me for what I am as well." He looked Harry in the eye and Harry looked back. For a moment all he saw was the same old Remus Lupin he had always known, but then his vision shifted. Instead of his kind, brown eyes, Remus had the wild, proud golden eyes of a wolf. Fangs were only just poking out from under his top lip and his fingernails had lengthened into claws. The minute he saw it, he couldn't unsee it.

"This is the way I really am, Harry. Just as this is the way you really are. Normal people and Wizards can't see it but we can see each other. It's an advantage we have over them. Harry noticed in Remus's eyes the same metallic sheen he had seen in his own eyes. That must be what makes us able to see it, he guessed.

Remus had decided that it was for the best that Harry stay with him at Grimmauld Place. They took the floo back to Number 4 Privet Drive to gather Harry's things. As they walked from the living room to the kitchen, Remus stood there, unmoving, unable to process what he was seeing. Sprawled on the floor was Harry's Aunt Petunia, barely breathing and surrounded by walls covered in sticky blood. When Harry caught sight of this, he went pale.

"D-did I do this?" he whispered fearfully. Remus didn't answer and went over to her and felt for her pulse.

"She's still alive, but barely. Harry, help me take her to the sofa." Together the two of them carried her to the sofa and lay her down. Remus checked over her then stopped when he saw the inside of her wrist, eyes widening is shock.

"Harry…" Harry peered over the werewolf's shoulder. On the inside of her wrist where a Dark Mark would be was a thin, dark line that made the shape of a lightning bolt…just like the one on Harry's forehead.

"Harry…you almost sucked the soul right out of her…and this mark…how?" Harry shrugged hopelessly. He knew nothing about this! Then realized what else Remus had just said.

"I-I sucked the soul out of…" rather than finishing his sentence, Harry turned his head to the other side of the couch and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor. He had had sex with his aunt?

"How—why can't I remember?" Harry mumbled, still feeling ill. He dry heaved a few times before his stomach calmed down. Remus was looking at him with an indescribable emotion on his face. Harry wanted to throw up again.

"When did you first start feeling…different?"

"The night of my birthday. I woke up after midnight and I felt strange…" Remus's eyes widened and he looked away, tending to Petunia.

"I see." After that there was no conversation. Harry had never hated himself more that he did right now. He had slept with his aunt and nearly killed her too and give her a mark she would probably have to live with for the rest of her life. He honestly wanted nothing to do with himself. These emotions were neatly swept into the void and the boundaries of the emptiness grew larger. Remus cleared his throat and Harry looked up, his face blank. Remus looked into the boy's eyes and felt like he was falling into the abyss. Harry was an extremely powerful incubus. Even during his first feeding, he had nearly drained an entire soul!

"Harry. Listen to me Harry. This is not your fault. If anything it is the fault of those who treat you badly or hurt you. The more negative feelings towards themselves an incubus has, the more powerful they are. People have been treating you badly your whole life, trampling on your self-esteem and making you feel like less than nothing. It's those feelings of nothingness that increase the void, the feeling that you are empty. The more and more the void increases, the harder it will be on your soul mate. If your need to feed on the souls of people is too much, you might do to your soul mate what you've done to your aunt."

Harry nodded slowly, taking the information and storing it for future use, still not looking Remus in the eye. He still felt disgusted with himself. Would his soul mate even want to have anything to do with him if they knew? Harry felt his head snap to the side and turned to look at Remus who was glaring at him and baring his teeth, Harry hissed in response. He hadn't felt any pain, but why would he hit him?

"I can tell by your facial expression you were thinking self-depreciating thoughts. Snap out of it!" Harry recoiled and wrapped his tail around one of his thighs at the tone of the werewolf's voice.

"Sorry." He said dully. He looked at the mark on his aunt's wrist. "What does that mean?" Remus was trying another spell on her, to increase her heart rate when he answered.

"It means that she belongs to you, body and soul. Some incubi don't bother finding their soul mate, instead they collect people and mark them. The mark makes the people follow the incubi wherever he goes, unconsciously. It happens to mostly powerful incubi who need more than one person to sustain them." Harry sincerely hoped this didn't happen to him. He only wanted his soul mate and no other person if this was what happened to them.

"How do I get rid of it." He asked. Remus looked surprised.

"Why would you want to? You might need it. Your soul mate might not be powerful enough to sustain you."

"Then I'll find other people after we've determined that. How do I get rid of it?" Harry insisted. Remus sighed. Harry was so stubborn.

"The only way to get rid of the mark on her arm is to either claim another, or have a soul mate that is just as strong as you." Harry nodded thinking about this.

"Just one, right?" he asked, confirming. Remus nodded.

"So far you seem to only need one. If you needed more, you would hardly be sitting here talking to me, you would have found another." He stood up from where he had been kneeling next to Petunia's head.

"I've done all I can for her. Thank god you didn't suck all of it out. Her soul will recover in a few days. She'll seem unlike herself for a while, but she'll be alive." Harry sighed. That was all he could ask for.

"This sucking out of people's souls…it, well, it reminds me bit of Dementors." Harry said while getting his trunk out from the cupboard under the stairs that had once been his room.

"Incubi are the distant cousins of Dementors. They both have the same origins, but they evolved differently." Remus grabbed on end of the trunk when Harry had dragged it back into the living room and grabbed a handful of the floo powder that was hidden behind a picture of a large pink boy with blond hair. They both stood in the green flames and called out, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"