Harry remembers growing up with the Dursley's. he remembers the physical abuse, the scars that faded over time, the ones that never really managed to fade completely, physical and otherwise, inflicted on him or his aunt. But most of all, above the harsh words about his dead parents. Above the ache to be loved and needed. He remembered the rejection. The hypercriticism. The looks of complete and utter disgust. And the repetative cooking of large quantities of food. Never to be consumed by him.

As a boy, he ate whatever was left over form what HE had cooked for THEM. It was always enough to keep him alive. Never very well nourished or entirely strong, but alive none-the-less.

He remembered the first time he went to the Weasley's and was stuffed full of all kinds of foods he didn't really want to eat, remembering the way Dudley would look with food on his face, in his face. Butter and meat everywhere. He remembered having to lie there in bed night after night. Unhappy with himself, and unable to punish himself with the stabbing hungry feeling that was once so easily attainable.

At first, it was a set of crunches. An upset stomach at lunch preceded by it being 'too early' in the morning to eat anything like bacon. Then into his 2nd year it turned into extra quiditch practice. Sit ups and jumping jacks for the sake of his seeking abilities. He was ok with mainting. As long as he didn't gain.

Then, into his 6th year, there was one particular day after a game between Slytherin and Gryffindor. One terribly fateful game. Harry had hung around and waited for the crowd to die out. All the people had left except for a few players here and there getting some extra practice in after an already very difficult game. To Harry it was a bit more than just practice. It was the tea with sugar and milk from earlier that morning. The orange. The piece of toast with margarine on it. The imperfection. Melting off of him with every drop of sweat and every pump of his heart and every ragged breath. He wanted to be muscular, fit, lean

As he ran his 5th lap around the field, a streak of white and green zipped past him, pressure being applied to his shoulder as he tumbled to the ground. A wicked snicker quickly followed by it.

He looked up to see the lithe, pale, blonde hovering over him. Quiditch robes open and cackling at the boy on the ground. He ran his eyes down his face, sharp and defined. Down his neck, which jutted out for his Adam's Apple and sunk back in to meet at a spoon shape in between his collar bones which he traced with his eyes all the way to the tops of the pale boys shoulders where they connected. His sternum was visible, and his ribs had that muscled-over look to them. They dipped in ever so slightly to show his flat abdomin. Not muscular, or defined like Harry's. But smooth, and flat, and everything was so sharp and aerodynamic. He was beautiful.

After that quiditch practice, he stopped Draco in the lockers and shoved him into it as hard as he could. The boy had begun putting his robes back on and it made him angry.

He was mad that he had seen the boy eating that same day and that he wasn't buldging everywhere. He wasn't like Harry.

"Don't be sore just because I got one up on you while you were running." Malfoy sneered.

Harry reached out and fisted Draco's robes. The blonde looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow, grabbing one of Harry's hands and opening his mouth to say something as Harry ripped the clothes open, roughly jerking them off of Draco's shoulders and staring at the shocked blonde.

"What in God's name do you think you're DOING?" he asked indignantly as he bent over to pick up his robes, abruptly stopped by rough hands shoving his shoulders back and slamming his head into a metal locker. He grunted as Harry's mouth smashed into his and he knew his lips would be bruised the next day, he could've sworn he tasted blood as Harry placed such strong suction over his slightly opened mouth.

Draco dug his nails into Harry's biceps and opened his mouth wide for Harry.

He moved to slip his hands under Harry's shirt, which earned him getting his wrists pinned above his head and Harry growled,

"Don't touch me" into his mouth. Harry licked along Draco's collar bone and the blonde moaned and jumped to wrap his legs around Harry's hips, his entire weight being held up between their bodies.

"Like I'd want to" he said with a scoff.

Harry looked at him darkly before shoving his hand down the front of Draco's quiditch pants.