AN: You'll notice that I almost never work exclusively on one fic, and this is because I get random ideas and plot bunnies and need to write them down ASAP or they disappear. Sorry!

Note: This fic contains a bit of abuse, both verbal and physical (mostly verbal and pertaining to homosexuality). It is not explicit, but if this triggers you, please don't read.

-o0o-

Harry couldn't understand it. One moment he'd been enjoying a snog with Ginny, the first real kiss they'd shared after the Battle, and the next he was pushing her away, an uncomfortable squirming in his stomach.

'Harry?' She said, her hair mussed prettily and her cheeks flushed as she lay underneath him on the lounge.

'It's nothing. C'mere.' He dipped close to her once more, the gentle press of mouths quickly becoming harder and more frenzied, roiling stomach ignored and hands wandering and until they brushed against the seam of his jeans and—

'No!' Harry cried, breaking the kiss and rolling off the seat and onto the floor in a heap. It was worse than before; he'd felt absolutely sickened as Ginny's hand had brushed his crotch. What was wrong with him?

'What is wrong with you, Harry?' Ginny demanded, looking hurt and angry.

'I don't know. I –' he stopped, realising how it might sound if he told her that when she touched him it made him feel sick to the stomach. 'I just guess I'm not in the mood, or something,' he said lamely.

Ginny stood from the lounge, looking fierce, and Harry followed.

'You're never "in the mood", Harry. These past few weeks have been nothing but you not being in the mood.'

'There was no time!' Harry protested. 'I've been going to funerals and trials every day! When would I have had time for this?' He gestured between them sharply.

'Oh, I dunno, maybe when you came home and your girlfriend needed you. But no, they obviously needed you more than I did.'

'I was exhausted! Do you think I liked going to those things and could just come home and just – just forget about it like a bad day at work or something? Could you have just forgotten about Fred like that?' Harry asked incredulously. Ginny clenched her fists, her hair shifting with wild magic.

'I would have come to you if you hadn't been so fucking busy making sure everyone else was okay!' She shouted, her voice wet. 'And you would have noticed that if you'd actually been here to support me.'

'I couldn't have just left. It was the right thing to do!' Which was apparently the wrong thing to say, if Ginny's flaring nostrils were anything to go by.

'You self-righteous bastard! You're too busy playing the hero to realise when your own family needs you!'

'What should I have done, then? If I hadn't gone to the trials, Draco and Narcissa would have been thrown in Azkaban without a fair trial!'

'So Draco is more important than me, then, is he?'

'That's not what I said at all!'

'You didn't even deny it!' A distinctly nasty gleam entered Ginny's eyes as she stalked closer to him. 'You know what? Maybe he is. Every time I tried to talk to you or even mentioned sex, you rejected me. Is that why you pushed me away just now?'

'What? No!' Harry spluttered. 'This isn't about Draco!'

'No, I think it is,' she said, invading his personal space. 'Because if I do this—' She made a grab for his crotch and he jumped back, pushing her hand away as his stomach clenched.

'What the fuck was that? What boyfriend doesn't want to have sex with their girlfriend?' Ginny demanded.

'I don't want to right now!'

'You never want to! You know what, Potter? I think you're gay,' she said, jabbing him in the chest.

A picture frame that was hanging on the wall abruptly shattered, glass tinkling to the floor. 'The only thing worse than you, boy, is gays. They're disgusting little freaks.' 'If I find out you kissed another boy again it'll be no food for a month! Go to your cupboard, you filthy creature!' 'Shirt-lifter, shirt-lifter! Harry is a shirt-lifter!' Fury burned through Harry's veins, and he could feel his control on his magic slipping.

'Get out,' Harry growled, voice dangerously low.

'What, can't handle the truth? Poor little Pot—' her head snapped to the side with a cry as a wild tendril of his magic slapped her across the face.

'I said, get out!'

With tears in her eyes and betrayal shining on her face, she disappeared with a loud crack. Harry couldn't care less, folding in on himself and letting his destructive magic run wild as the Dursley's hateful comments and his own self-loathing consumed him.

-o0o-

AN: Thoughts? Drop me a comment ;)

Note: I do not share or endorse the opinion of the Dursley's in this story. Those are awful things to say. If anyone says anything like that to you or anyone around you, please stand up to them or tell someone else and find help. Nobody needs or deserves that kind of hurtful negativity in their life.