Harry Potter: The Sassy, Gay Soon-to-be Wizard!

Rated T

Disclaimer: I don't own HP. That's all JKR's. The idea of "Sassy Gay Friend: Harry" is not mine either. The orange-scarfed Potter belongs to SideshowScarlet. I am just using these basics to make my own fic up. Hope Y'all enjoyz!

What would happen if Aunt and Uncle despised Harry more than ever, but Dudley, fat-boy wonder, formed a friendship with his cousin? Chaos! This is the first little story of Harry, Dudley Dursley's SGF!

Chapter 1: Of Sausages and Scarves

Harry Potter was not very normal. First, he had no parents and was living at the home of his aunt and uncle. At that Dursley home, he would clean and cook while living in a stuffy little cupboard under the stairs. Well, actually, this cupboard was stuffy and little on the outside, but inside, it was a teenage paradise. The clever kid had managed to sneak a whole long floor-to-celing bookshelf, a desk, a sewing machine, art supplies, a king-size bed, a putting green, a 32-inch plasma 3D television, and a pool and much more into this tiny room of his. It seemed as if, though, the cupboard was much, much bigger than his cousin's bedroom (that measured in at around 15 feet by 18 feet.) Dudley Dursley was actually somewhat glad for his cousin. After being abused and neglected, the preteen had created himself a huge living space that was definitely larger than the stairway. Harry had told his cousin he had no idea how the room possibly got this way, but when it did, he decided he had to convert it into a heavenly suite.

Not only was Harry living in a secretive mansion, he was also gay. He was rather sassy, too. Dudley, who he had recently bonded with Harry, had nicknamed him "my sassy gay friend," to which Harry would reply, "You stupid bitch!" Like a cherry on top of the whipped cream, Harry was obssesed with sausage. Whether it be Italian or Polish, the boy with cook it for his caretakers and then savor it, sucking, biting and licking the entire piece.

Eight year old Harry Potter rubbed his eyes as he woke up on a sunny June morning. The calender next to the adorable window informed him that it was Saturday. Saturday was his favorite day. Hopefully, nothing could ruin his mood. Harry flipped on the HDTV to morning news and hopped in the pool for a quick swim. After listening to the crazy tales from distant America and caught up on what his celeb friends did that night, he got dressed. The young man slipped into skinny jeans and a tight dress shirt that he had decorated with rainbow, glittery stripes. He opened all his windows. Some looked outside while some others looked into the hallway. They were not seen at all from the exterior. The window sills held little pots of roses, daisies, pansies and of course, petunias. He scrambled to his minibar, scrambled through many bottles of MiO and found plain, bottled water to feed the plants. Harry continued to sprinkle them all before cleaning up and going on his way. "C'mon, Tangy," he gestured to his favorite orange scarf. He ran his skinny, white fingers over the neon sparkles. Tangy was flung over his neck and he strolled out to the kitchen.

"Morning, boy," barked Uncle Vernon. "I see you're still wearing that horridly gay orange scarf." Harry was used to it and only winced once. His uncle's mean comments against his precious accesory angered him sometimes. "It's just my personality, sir." He answered politely. "I am the way I am and Tangy helps me express myself." When he had finished his mini speech, his Aunt Petunia grabbed his collar. "Fry these, now," she demanded, handing him a pack of sausages. "All of them please," Dudley reminded as he stumbled in. Then to balance out the universe, the fat child pushed Harry over. "You stupid bitch!" Harry hollered, a bit too loudly. This was the first time that the Dursley parents actually heard this comment.

Immediately, Uncle Vernon pulled Harry up and slapped his face. Harry just took a deep breath, knowing more was to come. He ended up getting punched all over his arms, but between us and Harry, it did not hurt for the puffy sleeves protected him. "Don't," started Uncle Vernon, "Ever call my son a stupid bitch again or I will lock you in that cupboard for two weeks!" Dudley winked at his cousin who was being sprayed spit at by his furious uncle. "Now make my breakfast," he warned quietly. And he let go of Harry.

Harry threw sausages into the pan and sprinkled them with spices. The smell was making Dudley's mouth water, so he shouted, "Hurry up, Harry!" When he carried them to the sink to pour them out, he got a nasty oil stain on Tangy. He screamed in a high-pitched way. "Tangy!" He yelped, "I need help! I have to do something. I can't just rub I have to blot!" Then without thinking, he attempted to lick the grease off the scarf. All he ended up with was a bad burn on his tongue and a mouthful of gold sparkles. Uncle Vernon snickered behind. "It's about time that ugly scarf was trashed," he whispered to his wife.

After standing there, facing out the window and having a silent temper tantrum, Harry served his family the sausages. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon whispered small comments of how the sauasage was only alright and that Harry could do better. Dudders, on the other hand, was happily slurping up every bite. For the first time, Harry just touched his sausage with his fork and poked it and rolled it. Finally, he had an outburst. "STUPID PIECE OF PORK," he shouted. "I AM GONNA KILL YOU ONCE AGAIN FOR DIRTYING TANGY AND YOU WILL BE SORRY THAT YOU AREN'T STILL AN ALIVE PIGGY!" Dudley looked scared at his cousin's random yelling. Harry was weird and he was definitely sassy, but never had he screamed at sausage. He watched in awe as Harry rapidly bit into the sausage. The enraged boy was packing it into his mouth and mashing it up.

Watching his nephew's disgusting eating habits got Vernon mad. "That's it," he said. "You know what? I'm putting you in that cupboard and locking you up!" Harry wiped his face and ran into his room. Uncle Vernon raced to his jacket and fidgeted for his keys. When he found them, he made sure that every padlock on the child's door was securly locked.

Harry paced around his home, holding Tangy in his hands and huffing in exasperation. He rounded the giant room millions of times, trying to think of how to clean his friend. That was the only thing missing in his cupboard: laundry detergent. There was no way in the bloody hell he could sneak detergent there. Aunt Petunia didn't realize the other things, but she'd definitely know if her laundry soap was gone. After his legs got tired, Harry slumped to his memory foam matress and plopped down in deppression. He fell asleep.

About two hours later, their was a knocking at Harry's door as if someone was trying to ram it down. Harry relutantly opened it to reveal Dudley. The big boy was hiding something behind his back that he placed on the minibar. "So, where are your parents?" Harry asked. "Erands," Dudley answered. He then sat with his skinny cousin on the green carpet. "Well," sighed Harry, handing over Tangy. "He's done with. Ruined. Never to be worn again. If I patch him up, it'll look even more ridiculous than a grease stain." Dudley pat his cousin's knee. "Why don't you make it MiO?" Asked Dudley. "It's just a simple FPS." Dudley flipped open the fruit punch and made his cousin a juice. "Yum," he said sarcastically, rejecting the red drink. Dudley put it away. "BTW, it's FTS, you idiot," Harry added.

Dudley finally roamed to the snack bar and grabbed the Tide-To-Go he had been hiding. "Here, Harry," he said, uncapping the pen. The two rubbed the stain until it disappeared, remaining as orange as ever. Harry smiled, "Thanks, Dudley." His cousin laughed back, "What are friends for?" Harry made a face. "Friends? We aren't friends," he sneered. Dudley frowned, "You stupid bitch!" He screamed. Harry touched his cousin's fist and pulled him into a hug. "Dud, we're not friends. We're brothers."