Yo! This is the first yaoi/slash fic I ever began writing, but I didn't get very far before deciding to post it. Please forgive any oocness-that's something I'm fixing in time as I get used to the characters and plot. Timeline here is the summer after fifth year and before sixth year, just before HP turns sixteen.
A warning here. There will be mentions of abuse. I've never suffered from abuse this bad, so this is just my imagination at work here. POVs switch around a bit, but should be obvious and clear. Hopefully.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters...
Harry knew he was a rare sort of teenager. Unlike most students, he had to admit he honestly couldn't wait until the summer break came to an end so he could finally return to school. Yes, that truly was a unique opinion for someone his age to have.
Harry couldn't help it though. Living with the Dursleys was exhausting, and that was putting it extremely mildly. They were loud, they were obnoxious, they were rude, and they were terribly abusive towards him.
Ever since he'd started school as a little boy, Harry could remember telling a total of three adults about the way the Dursleys treated him. Unfortunately for him, things hadn't gone well any of those three times.
He'd told his teacher when he was six, and said teacher assumed he was lying because, as it turned out, she was friends with Aunt Petunia. He'd been locked in his cupboard for the entirety of the Easter break as punishment for tattling.
He'd mentioned it to the librarian at the local library when he'd been eight, and the librarian had actually come to call at the Dursleys to check on him. Except she'd told the Dursleys what he'd said. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon managed to play it off as his imagination going wild, even though Harry knew they didn't even believe in imaginations, and satisfied, the librarian had gone on her way, missing the horrible beating Harry received right after she left.
And when he was eleven, Harry told Dumbledore, the Headmaster of his new magical school. Dumbledore listened to him in silence, and then told him to stop exaggerating and to be grateful for the care the Dursleys were so graciously providing him with.
Harry hadn't bothered telling any other adult after hearing that. There was no point. It seemed like they either wouldn't believe him, or would actively make things worse for him. It was better to just keep it to himself, he decided. But he wasn't going to be dealing with this for much longer.
He only needed to spend three months in total with the Dursleys now. Less than that actually, since July was nearing an end, so it was more like two and a quarter months. Once he got through August, he would go back to Hogwarts and then next summer he would only need to be with the Dursleys until his birthday at the end of July. Then he would finally be of age and be able to leave for good.
Harry could hardly wait for that, but wait was exactly what he had to do. And while he waited, he...did his many chores.
Harry sighed inwardly as his uncle dragged him out of his cupboard before thrusting a stupidly long list of chores at him and stomping out of the house as he left for work, shouting out his love for his wife while he left.
Once the door fell shut behind his uncle, Harry rolled his eyes and then looked at the list, even though he knew he didn't really need to. The list was pretty much the same every day. This was their way of keeping him busy, since he wasn't allowed to leave the property thanks to Voldemort and his stupid Death Eaters.
Wincing as he stretched, Harry shoved the list in the pocket of his oversized jeans and got to work, wondering why the Order of the Phoenix was filled with so many morons.
The Order had thought it was a brilliant idea to threaten the Dursleys when the summer break had started, warning them not to mistreat Harry because they'd be watching.
The problem with that was that they weren't watching and the Dursleys knew it. They also hadn't been particularly pleased to be threatened by a bunch of freaks. Said freaks had also let slip that Harry's ex-convict of a godfather was also dead, ridding Harry of the one and only bit of ammo he had against his relatives. Yeah, that didn't help matters either. Like, at all.
The last three weeks had been brutal for Harry, but he was doing his best to hang in there. While things were worse this summer, none of what was happening was anything he wasn't already used to.
Mid afternoon, Harry finally finished with his indoor chores and headed out to the front yard to start on what he had to do there. The sun was hot, but he was glad to be outside. Dudley was playing one of his tapes very loudly upstairs, and Aunt Petunia was gossiping about something or another in the sitting room, and the noise was starting to make his head hurt. The fresh air would probably help him, even with the heat.
Deciding to start with mowing the lawn, Harry pulled out the new mower (new because Mr Number One had recently bought a new one and the Dursleys wanted to prove they were better or something-who knew people even competed having better lawn mowers) and started it up.
Two minutes later, Aunt Petunia appeared at the open sitting room window, the phone held to her ear as she poked her head outside and tried to get a look over the fence leading to the house next door without pulling at the phone's cord too much.
"Oh, you're right, Sue. The new neighbours are moving in. ...Yes, we absolutely must pay them a visit before that harlot Mar-"
Turning his head so his aunt wouldn't see him, Harry rolled his eyes. He would never understand his aunt's weird rivalry with Mrs Number Three across the street. Not that she was any better or anything. Frankly, they all sucked.
In any case, it looked like Number Two, next door, was finally getting some new occupants.
Harry wasn't sure why, but no one ever seemed to stay in that house for very long, which was pretty weird seeing as Privet Drive was a place people tended to stay in for life. Everyone else had been here for at least ten years, and in most cases, over twenty. Number Two was the only exception to that, with occupants typically moving out only a year after they'd moved in.
Maybe the house was haunted or something? Harry couldn't help but compare it to the Defence Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. No professor managed to last more than one year with that job, and it was rumoured Voldemort had cursed the position. Maybe he'd cursed this house too, Harry thought with a snicker of amusement.
Harry glanced at the house over the fence. He didn't see anyone, and found himself wondering how his aunt and Mrs Number Six even knew someone had moved in. There was no van or truck or cars in sight either. Weird. Maybe they were channelling the evil spirits living in the house. Aunt Petunia did have a weird box hidden under her bed. Maybe it was an ouija board.
But if someone really had moved in, Harry knew it wasn't going to be long before they were invited over for dinner. A dinner that he was no doubt going to spend all day making and his aunt was going to take full credit for. ...Bitch.
Harry went on with the mowing before he could be scolded for slacking off, and grimaced at the way his shirt was starting to stick to him. The sun was blazing down and the heat was kind of beginning to get unbearable. To counter that, he shrugged out of his over large grey tee-shirt and draped it over the fence before continuing with his chores.
He was covered in cuts and bruises and scars, he knew, but he didn't care if anyone saw them. Most in Privet Drive already had, and seeing as nothing had ever happened, he knew no one really cared. It wasn't even surprising. As far as all the neighbours knew, he attended St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, and wasn't it only natural for him to get injured there? He was nothing but a delinquent, after all.
Idiots.
Still, it was kind of funny how people in the wizarding world were ignorant of all of this. They had no clue about the life he lived and the scars he wore. And the few who did know didn't seem to care. Harry knew there were people in his life who would definitely care, but due to past experience, he couldn't really bring himself to tell anyone. Besides, he wasn't going to put up with this for much longer. One week of July, four weeks of August, and then four weeks of next July, and then he would finally be mercifully free. He could be patient. He could do this. He could.
So focused on his thoughts and chores, Harry didn't notice the narrowed red eyes that were following his every move.
Tom Riddle had plans. Many plans. Good plans too, if one were to ask him for his ever so humble opinion. One of those plans was to get closer to his arch nemesis, Harry Potter.
He'd known Potter's address for quite a while now, though he'd never really been able to do anything with the knowledge. The property was warded against him, so he couldn't even step a single foot onto it. He was a genius, yes, but not a miracle worker. Not that he even believed miracles existed.
More recently, he'd come to the realization that the wards keeping him off Potter's property didn't actually exist anymore. Well, no, that wasn't quite true. The wards were still there, but he now had Potter's blood running through his veins. That meant he was automatically keyed into those wards, and that in turn meant they were no longer a viable defence against him.
Initially, Tom's plans were to simply break into the house and murder all its occupants. It was not only the easiest plan, but the most fun too. He wasn't stupid enough to just go waltzing in though.
Polyjuicing as some random boring looking Muggle, he'd gone to do some surveillance, just to make sure things would go well when he did decide to waltz in.
It seemed the wards meant to keep him out weren't the only spells in place around Number Four Privet Drive, and those other spells were interesting, to say the least.
He needed time to dissect this. He needed to be close to the property too. So he took advantage of the house next door being empty and with the use of a few handy spells, 'bought' it and moved right in, making himself at home. Temporarily, of course. He preferred Riddle Manor, but this suited his needs well enough for now.
There were too many Muggles out and about during the day, so he decided he would act at night, when they all slept. They wouldn't notice him in the darkness. He also wasn't sure whether the idiotic Order was around or not, and he had no desire to be found by them just yet. Later, perhaps, if he decided he was bored enough.
Intending on spending the day sleeping, Tom went to close the curtains, only to spot Potter out in the yard, mowing the lawn. His shirt was off, likely due to the sickening heat, but the injuries and scars were...surprising.
Eyes narrowing, Tom watched Potter work in the yard for some time. Yes, this was strange and surprising, and adding what he was seeing with some of the spells he was now guessing were placed on the property, made things all the more confusing.
He had to learn more.
That's it for now. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!