A/N:Here's the unbeta'd first chapter, I'll go through and edit it later 'kay. Enjoy!

Chapter One:

Home Sweet Home

As the car pulled up to number four Private Drive, Harry couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips. 'Home sweet home.' He bitterly thought as his uncle opened the garage doors. 'It wouldn't do for the neighbors to see the freak.'

Seeing as the Order had thought that it would be a good idea to, talk to his uncle; subtly threatening him should he harm Harry during his stay with them. Since then Vernon's face had gone from the light flush of pink from embarrassment to the burgundy red of rage, and was steadily getting darker. Harry knew that as soon as they got behind closed doors that Vernon would take his ire, his furious anger at being threatened by freaks, and in public, out on him.

Harry kept a close eye on his Uncle's hands as the engine was turned off; slowly they returned their white-knuckled grip to the steering wheel. However the only thing that surprised him was the simple fact that both his Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley were also closely watching Vernon. Harry was unsure of what to make of this fact, maybe Vernon had taken his anger out on his loving family when Harry was no longer there to beat on this year?

Either way Harry pushed it to the back of his mind. He had other things to worry over currently and didn't have the time to ponder over this new development. He would think it over later, when he had less, pressing, matters to hold his attention.

"Boy, you are to grab your freaky things and go straight to your room. You are to stay there and not make a single sound until I come for you. I don't want to hear a single peep coming from your room, is that clear boy?" Though Vernon's voice didn't give away the ire he clearly felt, the trembling finger pointed in Harry's direction did. So Harry simply nodded, not willing to speak out and further enrage his ticking time bomb of an Uncle.

Vernon's beady little eyes glared cruelly at Harry. As if he was just wishing that Harry would be stupid enough to ignore his Uncle's very clear warning.

Satisfied, and disappointed, that the boy knew his place, Vernon unbuckled his seatbelt and rocked his considerable girth out of his newly bought company car.

"Don't think that you'll be getting away with what those freaks said," Vernon said cruelly, smirking evilly as he starred into his nephews expressionless face. "No one tells Vernon Dursely what to do in his own home. No one."

Later that night, as Harry lay unmoving on his cot in the smallest bedroom at number four private drive, he couldn't help but think over his past years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He didn't like what he noticed. Every year, every single year at Hogwarts his life has been either directly or indirectly endangered; sometimes both and some years more than others. It almost seems as if they were tests. Tests to test his magical strength, his luck, and to test his mettle. Tests that all seem to orchestrated by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

In first year there was the Troll, Fluffy the Cerberus locked up on the third floor corridor (seriously, locked up? Three first years could get past that door with a hasty alohamora spell), and a 'suspicious monster' killing the local unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. Then there was the dentition located in the aforementioned forbidden forest, at night. The fact that the groundskeeper, who was unable to cast magic, was able to 'win' and then attempt to raise the Dragon hatchling Norberta, a Norwegian Ridgeback, in a wooden hut on the school campus without being caught by any one other than four first year students.

Later in that first year there was the Philosopher's stone, an object of great power and wealth, a temptation even grown men have fallen prey to. Hidden in a school filled with impressionable, untrained, and ever curious children. The mirror or Erised, an enchanted mirror that shows your hearts desire; and last, but not least, Quirellmort.

How could Albus Dumbledore, the so called 'greatest headmaster to date', be unable to notice the parasitic possession of Defense Professor Quirell. Especially since said parasitic spirit was Dark Lord Voldemort, Dumbledore's greatest foe… or at least since Grindelwald. Ignoring the fact that Dumbledore had been 'unable' to acknowledge the fact that the defense professor was indeed possessed, not simply 'worried over Vampires finding him'. But the protections to protect the stone from falling into the clutches was easily fought through by three first year students new to magic. Two of whom were completely new to magic while the other was simply uninterested in learning.

Second year began with Dobby trying to 'save' him, and in the process put his life in further danger, then there was the misuse of magic letter the Ministry of Magic sent him and his relatives. The Weasley's taking their father flying Ford Angela's to break him out of his relatives house. The entrance to platform 9 ¾ had been closed forcing both Ron and Harry to drive the illegally enchanted Ford Angela's to Hogwarts, accidentally crashing it into the Whomping Willow. Not an experience that Harry would wish to experience.

Those this years Defense Professor, one Gildory Lockhart, wasn't possessed by a parasitic spirit, which was a small step up, he was a fraud. Looking back onto second year Harry was very surprised that it didn't turn out worse than it did.

The whole heir of Slytherin thing was exactly dangerous as it could've been, Harry admitted now that he was lucky that people hadn't thrown hexes and curses at him. Though the school turning on him again was annoying it wasn't actually as harmful as it could've become. Though Harry did have to question his sanity when he looked back on his choices that year. Seriously, what was he thinking going into the forbidden forest at night into the lair of Giant Arachnids who didn't think twice about trying to eat them?

Though they did learn that the monster in Slytherin's lair was a Basilisk, a legendary creature hatched from a snakes egg that had been sat on by a toad. The legendary king of serpents whose gaze killed any who looked directly into its eye, petrifying those lucky enough to only be caught by its reflection. And stupid Harry he fought the monster, taking a fang in the arm before destroying Tom Riddles diary, his living memory before it could fully kill Ginny. Before it could steal the unfortunate first years soul.

Again it cam down to the fact that Dumbledore was, unaware, of the partial possession of a person under his protection. Letting a dark artifact capable of leeching off of another's soul and magic in order to bring is living memory of a sixteen year old Lord Voldemort to life.

Third year was calmer considering that the infamous Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban in order to kill him. Though the defense professor was certainly more knowledgeable, and wasn't out to actively ruin and/or destroy him. However it turned out he was a werewolf, which explained Snape's active…. dislike… of the shy professor, and the poor professor ended up trying to accidentally kill him when he forgot to take the wolvesbane potion. Though he couldn't exactly be to harsh on the professor about that. He thought that Sirius black had gotten them… And through his indirect actions the life debt between James Potter and Severus Snape was voided.

Turned out that Sirius was innocent, in fact he never got a trial, and that Scabber's was actually Peter Pettigrew the real betrayer of the Potters. Pettigrew was an animagus, a wizard capable of turning into an animal that best represents them. In Peters case an ugly, lazy rat.

Third year was defiantly his easiest, even with the Dementer's trying to suck out his soul at every point that they could. It actually had the least life threatening occurrences in all his schooling and not once did Voldemort show himself.

Between Fourth and Fifth year Harry was unsure of which one was the worse. Both years he had seen death. After being illegally entered into the Tri-wizard tournament and forced to compete of forfeit his magic, the school turned on him… Again. And this time Ron, his first and best friend had turned with them. Had thought that he want to enter a tournament that had previously stopped because of the high mortality rate of past tournaments.

Harry still was unsure of how he could've forgiven the prick, he didn't even apologize!

Though Professor 'Moody' was the one of the best defense professors he ever had it didn't escape his notice that Moody was in fact Bartemius Crouch Jr. A Death Eater.

A Death Eater who had turned the Tournament trophy into a portkey that dent him, and Diggory, into a graveyard. It was there that Harry had seen, and known, his first witness of death. While he had seen his mother die before him Harry was to young to really understand what it meant. This time he had no such luck. Pettigrew killed Diggory on Voldemort's orders before he had tied Harry to the tombstone.

The ritual that followed still haunted his memories. The helpless feeling of being unable to stop the Dark Lord from coming back to life. Harry knew that he was extremely lucky to survive everything thing that happened in that graveyard and directly afterwards. The dual, escaping with Diggory's body, 'Moody'… He was very lucky.

Fifth year had just gotten over, though it seemed like it happened a life time ago, Umbridge, Occulmency, Blood Quills, the entire Wizarding world thinking him insane… The Department of Mysteries, Sirius…

Harry bit back the wave of sorrow, the grief and anger he felt. If he just knew the reason why he had to learn occulmency, that their were actual consequences not just them making him do something… He would have taken it more seriously. He would understand the need to protect his mind. But they didn't, they didn't explain, they didn't explain ANYTHING to him. They just expected him to know, to listen to them….

Harry closed his eyes. He was tired, tired of living up to everyone's expectations. Tired of being the Gryffindor golden boy, tired of being the boy-who-lived. He wanted to be Harry, just Harry. Would he even know how to take his masks off? Would he even be allowed to take his masks off? Or would they just say that he was going dark? Harry sighed.

"Tch. Its not like their opinion actually matters to me." His voice barely audible as his thoughts drifted. Looking out the little window of his room, Harry starred at the full moon. Mesmerized by its haunting beauty.

'I wonder if I'll dream of him again?' His last thought before he drifted between sleep and wakefulness. As his thoughts drifted aimlessly before gradually slipping off into dreams.

As Harry opened his eyes the familiar sight of the strange forest greeting him. Harry sighed in pleasure as the forest came to life, the song of the night life prevailed, it twisted and glided past him. Wrapping him in the comforted knowledge that no one shall harm him while he was here. And he took to the comfort greedily, gratefully as he did every time he dreamed of this place.

Harry wondered when he would show up. His mystery man, for there was no doubt in his mind that the stranger who calmed him, who claimed him night after night was a man. As if his thought had summoned him Harry felt strong arms wrap possessively around his slim waist, molding himself to Harry. Harry sighed, content. He could stay here for hours simply basking in his mates aura. The comfort of being wanted and loved for himself, not for a title, for wealth or prestige. But for Harry. Just Harry.

Harry could still remember how he found out he was gay, how he had questioned his sexuality after the disaster with Cho. How everyone had assumed he would go out with Ginny, who he felt nothing more than brotherly affection for. As he questioned himself he had noticed how his eyes had strayed. How they only ever looked over the fairer sex in curiosity. While his eyes always seemed to focus more on his own gender, slowly gazing over them as if committing their forms to memory. How his blood always seemed to boil over another male rather than a woman. Though none of this actually seemed to sink into his mind until the time he had caught himself checking out Malfoy's ass that time at the quidditch pitch…

Harry couldn't help but relax completely under his mates attention. He bared his neck in submission allowing his mate to do as he wished to Harry. He would not mind in the least.

Gasping as his mate bit into his neck, claiming him, even if it was only for the night. Even if it was only in a dream. Harry surrendered, and as thought seemed to leave him, he couldn't help but wish that this was real, not just a dream.

Harry should have known to be careful of what one wishes, for they might come true. Though not in the way he would've wished.