Disclaimer: characters don't belong to me, though don't I wish.

I still can't believe this is happening to me. I never did anything to deserve this. Ever. I'm a good kid, the kind that helps old ladies and gets good grades and graduates high school to get a good job. I shouldn't be here. I don't belong in a place like this. I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for fucking Dudley and his damn Tigers. It had all started about six months ago, when I had had to go live with my mum's sister, Petunia Dursley. I can still remember my first day there…

The boy got out of the back seat of the car cautiously. He still couldn't believe his parents were dead. They had been so young, so happy. He had just seen them the day before, smiling and telling him good-bye. They had been on their way to France for James Potter's tour kickoff. Lilly and James Potter had died tragically, but no one seemed to be able to tell him what had happened. All they ever told him was that there was an accident, and that his parents were now dead. He was alone.

He stood now on the front stoop of his only remaining relative. Petunia Dursley was his mum's sister, but they had never gotten along much. When Lilly had married James, the son of a successful businessman and the lead singer of the unknown garage band 'The Marauders', Petunia and her new husband, Vernon Dursley, had completely cut ties with them. Now, Harry was standing on their doorstep, waiting for one of them to answer the door.

He still didn't understand why he had to live with these strangers when Remus Lupin, his father's band mate and best friend, had offered to take him in. He would have rather of lived with him than these people.

When the door finally opened, a very large boy with thin blonde hair stood there, glaring nastily down at Harry. He was dressed in large, ill fitting jeans with large chains hanging from them and what looked like the hilt of a knife sticking out of his pocket. On his large black hooded sweat shirt there was a picture of a tiger with the words 'Live Hard; Die Great' written under it. He also had a black bandana tied around his head tilted at a slight angle and half way covered by a black beanie. All in all he looked very intimidating and Harry almost turned around and started running after the retreating taxi he had come in.

Swallowing nervously, Harry stuck out his hand and said quickly, "Hi, I'm Harry Potter, the boy who the lawyer talked to your mum about."

The boy standing in the doorway didn't change his facial expression at all. He looked down at Harry's hand and then back up at the boy in front of him. Sweeping his eyes over Harry's fitted, stylish designer jeans, his casual button down shirt that had the sleeves rolled up half way to his elbow, his clear skin and his styled yet messy hair, the boy snorted and spit into Harry's hand instead of shaking it. "Fuckin' faggot," he muttered, turning back into the house and slamming the door behind him.

That day had been utter hell for Harry, who had never been treated in such a way before. Moments after the boy had disappeared, the door had opened once again to reveal another very large man and a skinny, horse-faced woman. They had been glaring down at him in quite the same way the boy had, and Harry was hesitant to speak.

After a long moment of silence, the woman finally spoke. "What the hell do you want? Whatever it is you're selling, we don't want any, so get lost."

"Umm…I'm not selling anything, ma'am. My name is Harry Potter, and you spoke to my parents' lawyer yesterday about me. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something, but I was told you were expecting me."

"Watch that cheek, boy, or I'll knock it out of you," the large man standing beside the horse-faced woman growled menacingly. Harry's eyes widened imperceptibly as his heart rate sped up slightly. What kind of home had those damn lawyers landed him in? No one had ever threatened to hit him before, and he wasn't exactly sure how to respond to the man whom he guessed was his uncle.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get in here before someone sees you just standing there." Walking back into the house, the man and woman left the door open for him to enter, not even offering to help Harry with all of his luggage.

Struggling under the weight of his many bags, Harry followed his aunt and uncle into the main room, putting his stuff down and waiting for them to tell him what to do next. When no instructions were forthcoming, he decided to take his chances with asking. "Er, sir, where am I to put my bags?" he asked timidly, not wanting the brute to threaten to knock the cheek out of him again.

Looking over at the well-dressed boy standing in his family room, Vernon Dursley narrowed his eyes in contempt and ordered him to follow him. He took the boy he and his wife had been saddled with up the stairs to the bedroom that was filled with old and broken toys from Dudley's (their son) childhood. "You can stay in this room. Just don't touch anything. Dinner is at 4 o'clock. Can you cook?" Harry shook his head, having never have had to cook a meal in his life. "Well, you'll have to learn. As long as you're staying under this roof you will earn your keep."

"But, sir, isn't the lawyer paying you and your family to take care of me?" Harry asked, his feelings of anger at being referred to as just a freeloading burden momentarily overshadowing his fear of the man standing before him.

Vernon backhanded the boy standing before him with enough force the knock over a tree and Harry fell back onto the bed, his hand instinctively moving up to his stinging cheek. "I thought I told you to watch the cheek, boy!" Vernon bellowed, his face going a wonky puce color. "I will not be back talked in my own home, especially by some uppity little brat who seems to think they're better than us." Walking out of the door, Vernon slammed it behind him, and Harry heard him thundering down the stairs, still yelling about ungrateful little brats.

Leaning back unto the bed, Harry rubbed his cheek. He could feel it starting to bruise already, and his eyes started to tear up. What did I do to deserve this? he asked silently to whatever god was up in heaven. Is it because I'm gay? Is that it? Are you punishing me because of that? Did you take my fucking parents away and then stick me here with these awful people because of that? Tell me, damn it!

Not really expecting an answer, he curled up onto the bed and sobbed to himself quietly, not wanting to incur the wrath of the Dursleys anymore than he had already. After about thirty minutes of crying and cursing everyone from his parents to the lawyers to God for making him end up in the hell he was in now, Harry finally fell asleep, his out look on the future not looking all that bright.

A/N: This was written for a challenge. If you liked it, leave a review. Please and thank you. Also posted at adultfan. for the chapters rated NC17. Won't go over R here.