-1"Your off in the head Potter!"

"Its just sick and wrong!"

"Your disgusting!"

These are the words that rang through Harry's dreams every night. No matter how had he tried to avoid thinking about it during the day, he couldn't escape once the night came. Every night the same dream would come, no, it was more of a nightmare. An awful nightmare that he couldn't get away from. Harry would see the same scene over and over and over, waking covered in a cold sweat and on the verge of tears. Three months, three months and he still couldn't forget that afternoon. The afternoon Dudley found his diary.

FLASHBACK

Harry was on his knees, dirt covering his face, clothes and everywhere else for that matter. Just one of the things on his Uncles long list of chores was to re-plant all of the flower beds in the back yard. Harry had learnt many years ago to not argue with his chores, no matter how unfair or impossible they were. It would only resulting a beating or a lack of food. Besides, Harry was glad for his chores lately. It kept his mind off of everything. Off one thing in particular. He knew it was wrong to even think about it in the first place, the feelings should never of started, but they had. How he missed being able to see them, their faces, their lips…No! Don't think about it.

Harry mentally shook himself. He found himself in this situation at least five times a day, letting his mind wonder to where it shouldn't go. "No, don't think about, just finish the garden." Harry told himself.

Many more minutes passed, with Harry digging and scraping at the flower beds, hoping his Uncle would be satisfied. He had missed dinner yesterday due to the car not being to his liking, how was Harry supposed to know he used the wrong wax on it. its not like it even looked different because of it. That didn't matter to his Uncle though, what he said goes, so Harry was punished. He used was to that by now so no longer let it bother him. Ever since he was little Harry would be blamed for every little mistake or accident that happened. This used to anger Harry, especially when half the time it was Dudley sabotaging him, but years of not being able to change it taught him to lie low.

As if on queue, a thudding of steps could be heard coming down the garden path. Harry braced himself, and sure enough the shouting came.

"Is this a joke Boy!"

Harry had no clue what he meant, he rarely did.

"Answer me Boy!"

"I don't know what you mean Uncle" Harry replied flatly.

"This!" Vernon yelled, waving an over sized finger at the flower beds.

"It's a flowerbed." Harry mocked.

He knew it was a mistake immediately. Vernon's face flushed to the most vibrant shade of red imaginable. The vein on the side of his neck seemed to quiver, this only happened when he was extremely angry. "Great" though Harry "No food again." hiding his bitterness, he tried to keep his face as passive as he could.

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT ATTIUDUDE BOY! YOU UNGRATEFUL SHIT!"

A hand came swiftly across Harry's left cheek, the brutal smack resounding through the garden. Knocked clean on the hard ground, Harry's hand flew straight to his face. Something warm and wet was trickling down the side. Sure enough, Vernon has his rings on. Harry had a suspicion that he only wore them for these moments.

"GIVE ME THAT SORT OF MOUTH AGAIN AND I WONT BE SO GENTLE!"

Harry bit his lip to keep back a retort. Back chatting wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Bedroom. Now. Not a word!" Said Vernon, attempting to level his voice. A feat that was near impossible when his freak of a nephew was around. Harry didn't need telling twice and left without backward glance. He never did find out what he done wrong with the flower beds. Not that he cared in the slightest, as long as he wasn't expected to do them again.

Harry was careful to tread quietly up the stairs, the last thing he needed was to be accused of stomping too loud. Harry approached his bedroom with low spirits, planning on a well earned rest. His room was small, no surprise there, the Dursley's never gave him anything worth while. It contained the bare minimal, a desk and chair, a wardrobe and a rather old looking bed. It Didn't matter though, he wouldn't be here much longer. Harry turned seventeen in a few weeks, no longer would he have to return to this pitiful excuse for a home.

This happy thought stayed with Harry as he entered his room, distracting him so much he didn't see the large boy sitting on his bed. (although it would have been hard to tell it was a person, the 'thing' on the bed resembled a pig more).

"Your disgusting!"

Harry shot round, wand out pointing directly at the intruders face, ready to curse it in one swift move. Harry sighed out loud, it was just his idiot of a cousin. Dudley Dursley. Dudley's words weren't the only shocking thing about this situation. Harry couldn't remember the last time he was In his room. In fact, he didn't think Dudley had ever been in his bedroom. His entire family tended to avoid anywhere that would remind them of Harry's freakishness, and since Harry's room contained various spell books, a cauldron and an owl (currently out hunting, probably some poor mouse), his room certainly fitted.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I said your disgusting!" Dudley spat, distaste filling his voice.

"What are-" Harry froze mid-sentence. Oh God. Clasped firmly in one of Dudley's saucer sized hands was Harry's diary. The diary was a project set by Trelawney, Hoping that writing down their feelings and thoughts would encourage her class to open their inner eye more. The task wasn't the problem. Knowing no one would see it Harry had written things in it, things no one should ever read. If Dudley had read it!

"You-you didn't read it. Did you-you?" Harry's voice trembled as he spoke.

"Yes I did!"

Oh no, oh god, this cant be happening. Harry's mind was in overdrive. How much had he read? After all this time of keeping it a secret, of hiding and denying it was even true, his secret was out. Harry had tried to forget about it, ever since he came home from the summer he had tried, but he couldn't. He didn't know when he started to have these feelings, more likely it started around the end of the third year. He Didn't know it then, he was still only a kid, but know he knew. He was in love. With every fibre of his being he was in love. Nothing was more important than that, but no. he shouldn't. it was wrong to feel this way. Harry had realised that pretty soon on as well. Having these sort of feelings and desires wasn't normal (but when had he, the Boy Who Lived, ever been normal).

" How could you like-like-like them!" stuttered out Dudley.

Harry wasn't just in love with one person, he loved two.

" There men! Their not even your age!"

Harry wasn't in love with a girl, he was in love with men.

" Your off you head Potter!"

That was it. Harry was done for. Dudley's reaction was exactly how he imagined his own friends to react. Yes, Harry Potter was gay and had been for a very long time. He couldn't only imagine the thrill The Prophet would get from that. 'Boy Who Lived Lives For Boys!' Harry had no problem with is sexuality. Being gay was nothing to be ashamed of. Harry had realised this truth after his episode with Cho Chang, the girl just did nothing for him. She was beautiful, intelligent, funny, but it just didn't feel right.

Shaking on the spot, Harry tried to force out words. He had to shut his cousin up now, but no words would come. All his breath had left him. He stood in silence, dumbstruck, until Dudley made a big mistake.

" They must be right pervs, weirdos too if their like you!"

Harry's hand was at his throat in a matter of seconds, his thumb stopping his precious air. He squeezed causing his cousin to gag and splutter.

" DON'T EVER CALL THEM THAT! YOU DON'T KNOW THEM, YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" came his roaring voice.

A small whimper escaped Dudley's mouth. Harry looked into his eyes, he knew he would not be telling. The fear there was proof enough. Harry released his grip. A thud signalled his cousin's contact with the floor. At a speed he wouldn't of thought Dudley could move at, he ran from the room. Harry knew he heard one last whisper as he exited the room.

" It's just sick and wrong."

END FLASHBACK

Harry couldn't forget that afternoon.

Climbing into bed that night, the words rang through the air. He knew Dudley was only trying to wind him up, that he didn't know what he was talking about, but that still didn't extinguish his guilt.

Harry knew It would never be.

They could never love him.

Yet his heart still ached for them.

Moony and Padfoot would always be what he wanted.

Maybe, someday, it'll work.