Gathering

Warnings Strongly Apply: slashish, rapeish (somewhere in between) language… maybe, just generally not for children, or those that can't tolerate those kinds of things. They can just turn off the internet and climb back under their rocks for all I care.

A/N: I had every intention of updating Once Again… but it's written on a different computer, sooo, rather then ignore the call to write, I decided to update the unreviewed story…

xXx

Everything seemed to slow down as Piers' face got closer and closer to his, but still in denial, Harry didn't move, he simply couldn't concede that a boy was about to kiss him. It seemed to take an eternity before their lips connected. Shocked, Harry pushed him away with all his force and spluttering, made a break for the door. Piers grabbed him before he could turn the knob and slammed his body against the wooden doorframe. Some of Dudley's old toys fell from a shelf across the room and clunked onto the floor. It could have been because of the impact of his body into the door, but in Harry's mind a switch seemed to flick and all it said was 'no more chances, if you use magic, they will expel you'. With this thought, even through all of his sheer panic, something inside of him seemed to shut his magic off. And he was powerless again.

Harry hit Piers with every physical weapon he had, which didn't amount to much considering the way Piers' body dwarfed his. His attempts to make noise were cut off by the foul mouth covering his, completely alien to the warmth, strawberry-ness and sheer femineity of what he had experienced with Cho previously. He had tried to save his towel from falling to the floor but the lips on his were just so wrong, he couldn't help but devote all his spare hands to the task of removing them. Harry went for the eyes, as if Piers was a dragon and they, his only weakness. But this was not school, there were no dragons and certainly no broomsticks – this was real and he was trapped.

Angrily, Piers swatted his hands away. In retribution he managed to grab both Harry's wrists in one hand and wrenched them well above his head, holding them there so that even attempts to move the rest of his body would cause the stretched limbs more discomfort. Harry of course, ignored this and continued to throw his body into trying to keep a less than intimate distance between himself and the Hungarian rhinoceros that had him trapped against his own bedroom door.

He may have been shocked, but he wasn't scared, wasn't embarrassed he wasn't even angry. He was feeling something though, and by-gods he felt alive again. It was fairly indescribable, more thought then actual feeling. A desire to fight for survival, reminiscent of his days before magic, when he only had himself to rely on and he lived his life purely on the will to be alive. It didn't matter to him in that moment, if he was going to get beaten up, the blood was flowing in his veins once more and he was determined to fight.

He twisted his back around to try and stop Piers' wandering other hand from gaining any private contact, this only caused him to chuckle though and wedge their bodies more firmly together, giving Harry no penchant to move. Harry reused to be beaten and brought his foot down hard on the cool wood floor several times, eventually making contact with Piers' unclad foot. He gave a grunt and slammed his knee into Harry's thigh, trying to reprimand him and keep him still.

Harry gasped at the momentary numbing pain in his leg, and stumbled as much as one who is pinned to a wall could at the blow. He didn't even notice that Piers' hands had found their target and were pulling with matriculate expertise, not until Piers started to flatten their bodies together and grind his hips into Harry's.

Then Harry realised. Then Harry started to fight in sheer unadulterated panic, still it got him nowhere, panic only served to shut off any intelligent senses other than 'flail madly' and that was helping him none.

'Wrong, wrong, wrong' was all his mind screamed at him, 'Sirius wouldn't be able to look at me, Dumbledore will disown me. I'll disgust them all. Everyone's going to hate me again.' Sometime during this helpless, self pitying rant a strange feeling, sort of like butterflies, except inexplicably better had begun to build up in the bottom of his stomach and he began to think that maybe it wasn't so wrong, that it wasn't like he was going to tell anyone and so no one would even know anyway. Really it wasn't like he planned to do it again and once couldn't really hurt and he needed to move his hips as well, plus he had an unexplainable desire to mouth something… it may as well be Piers' mouth…

Harry let go of everything for the first time in his life, he didn't think he'd ever felt this carefree, certainly not since his first year in the wizarding world, that was for sure. He wondered if this was what he had been supposed to do in occulmency, he didn't think so though because his mind wasn't exactly 'clear', it was just utterly and tenaciously focused on getting one thing… and he didn't even know what, but instinct told him if he sucked hard enough at Piers' skin and moved his hips to grind against anything solid, that his butterflies would build up… and he guessed maybe that's what he wanted. The fact that his brain couldn't focus on anything except accumulating butterflies led him to think that was probably a good assumption.

He had no idea how or when they ended up on the lumpy bed. When Piers moved so that Harry couldn't mouth anything he was slightly put out, but then a wetness enveloped him and he was mouthing thin air without really being able to place what he had wanted anyway. He was bucking madly and Piers had to put a hand over his mouth to stop him yelling out, then all of a sudden it was as if the butterflies had exploded out and he was left nearly blissfully unconscious with his eyes rolled almost into the back of his head, breathing as if he had run from the dungeons to the Astronomy Tower.

Piers didn't remove his hand though, and Harry who felt as if he was coming back through a pleasant haze briefly wondered why, seeing as he was done making noise. Then he paused longer to wonder why Piers would be interested in doing something so selflessly pleasurable for him, he wasn't quite coherent enough to really philosophise it yet though. So it was that a half aware Harry looked quizzically down towards the overloaded barrel of one Piers Polkiss, wondering exactly what he wanted him to do with it.

Apparently Piers had plans for it all along and the pleasant haze Harry had been slowly descending through turned into a thick sludge that he was madly trying to beat away to identify the source of his brain's question – 'Why. Is. My. Arse. On. Fire?

However it took even less time before he began questioning what problem he had ever had with fire… and really he liked fire, wanted to light more fire, build fire like butterflies – that seemed like a good idea, he started to buck madly again until he managed to buck himself onto a white light and he hit it so hard his ears were ringing and his muscles were quivering and for all the world he might have been senseless. Piers wasn't even half done with him though, he hit that blinding light twice again in the whole process before he gruntingly found his own release and removed himself from Harry, who was a quivering, goofy-smiling, mass of jelly on the bed. He was barely even cognent as Piers got dressed and patted him condescendingly on the cheek with a "good boy" before he walked out into the hallway as if nothing had happened.

To Harry it seemed like a long time before his heart stopped racing and his breathing returned to normal, probably it was only a few minutes before he started to reacquaint himself with the dangers of fire and all of his prior protests sprang to mind once more. He was gripped by a panic possibly worse then he had felt before as he came back into the realisation of exactly what he had let happen.

His mind raced, 'what have I done? What have I done? How am I going to explain this? I'm not going to; I won't tell them no one ever has to know… But they will know. Dumbledore will take one look at me and he'll be able to tell and the Weasley's… crap the Weasleys' won't ever want to be near me again'.

Basically, Harry's hyperventilating; panicking mind brought itself to the conclusion that what he had done was a betrayal worse then spying for Voldemort and absolutely everyone was going to find out about it as soon as Dumbledore saw him.

So he wouldn't see Dumbledore. He was going to be killed by Voldemort eventually anyway, so he might as well just get it over with and hope for some good faith on Voldemort's part to destroy the evidence, and then no one would ever find out what he did, and they could all just remember him as he'd been – brave and noble… At least, that was what he'd always been to them.

He moved methodically as he prepared to leave, though he didn't know it, he was in shock, yet currently he remained emotionless as he got up and went to the bathroom. He was still naked but he didn't even notice while he picked the bleach out from under the sink counter and proceeded back to his room. He poured it over the blood stain on the bed and rubbed it in with his hands until the stain was no longer visible and there was nothing left on the bed that could identify what had taken place. He stripped the mattress before flipping it over and leaving it bare. He knew the harsh bleach would probably eat it away, but there would be nobody to care after today he told himself before he picked up the sheets and went to the bathroom once again.

His hands were stinging painfully by the time he had dropped the sheets into the laundry basket and stepped into the shower for the second time that day. Things were starting to catch up to him at this stage and he shook as he scrubbed his skin raw. He waited, scrubbing in the shower until he was sure his sore behind had stopped bleeding, he still had bruises though in hard to explain places and could only pray that Voldemort would honour his last request.

Harry stepped out of the shower smelling like lavender and roses, towelling himself quickly he returned to his room and dressed in his best Dursley clothes. He shut his window as a way of releasing Hedwig who had been out since sometime the previous day, neither of them, he thought to himself as he made his way out of the house, would ever need to be entering that room again.

A/N: Another chapter... hope y'all liked.

Now I know at least 5 of you probably aren't stupid enough to need this, but still you'll be the ones that understand why I'm saying this then. There's a little called characterization, which basically means that just because I choose to try and display a possible angle of cannonistic Harry Potter having a bad reaction to a gay relationship and not saying "why yes Piers, let us play naked bang-bang and be joyous", does not mean that I myself am homophobic.

ok? farham?

Next chapter, Voldemort laughs in his face... but then what?

Katty xx