This, of course, never did.
And then he would start going out, and getting in late. That's when Uncle Vernon took up his new hobby--beating him for disrupting his sleep.
This was just a joke to Harry as, he knew by many sleepless nights, his Uncle slept like a log. Nothing but perhaps his own snoring could've woken him up.
"Boy, what have I told you?" Vernon spat, emphasising every word with disgust towards his nephew.
"That...that it's disrespectful and selfish of me to come in at such a late hour when people are sleeping," Harry recited; he dared not look up.
"And yet here you bloody well are," his uncle snarled.
His breath smelled of liquor; he'd been drinking again.
Harry saw a knife out of the corner of his eye. He was, for once in his life, afraid of his uncle.
And then blood.
And then pain.
----
Dear Ron,
Please come get me. Things are bad here...you don't know how much it would help if I could stay with you and your family.
Please write back,
Harry.
----
Harry sat on the floor of his room. The razorblade dropped from his
numb fingers, and he closed his eyes, letting the blood flow make him
light-headed.
His head hit the wall, and he heard a voice, seemingly distant, say his name.
----
When Harry woke up, there was a thick bandage around his wrist. His
eyes were sore, the lids heavy, making it hard to concentrate on his
surrounding environment. Clearly, though, he had left Privet Drive.
"Harry"
Harry fumbled for his glasses as a red mop of hair attached to seventeen-years-worth of freckles came bounding towards him.
"What?" Harry said, taking in the room around him. It was Ron's room at The Burrow. "How did I get here"
"I came and picked you up, of course," Ron Weasley said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I got your letter, and, well, I was really worried, so I took the car--with Mum's permission this time--and went to get you. But..."
Both Ron and Harry glanced at the bandage, soaked through with blood.
"Why did you do it, Harry?" Ron asked, clearly not sure how to go about asking this.
Harry's head remained tipped forward so he didn't have to look at Ron. He didn't speak.
"Come on..." The red-head leaned in, running his fingers through his friend's hair. "You can tell me"
"Ron...just...not right now," Harry murmured. "I'll tell you later...just not now"
Ron kissed his forehead. They'd shared many kisses--some passionate, some gentle, some rough.
They did it for fun and for exploration of their sexuality--nothing else.
Harry closed his eyes and let Ron press his lips to his. They were soft lips, but rather clumsy ones. Harry didn't seem to mind as he held the back of Ron's head and slid his tongue through his slightly parted lips.
Ron slid his hand down Harry's chest, stopping at the waistband of his trousers, where he knew Harry would stop him anyways.
Harry shakily pulled away, shaking his head.
He might no have given into sex so easily, but halfway across England, someone else was.
----
Draco Malfoy shoved Blaise Zabini against the wall, roughly forcing his tongue against his to the sound of a moan.
Draco's hands moved expertly down to Blaise's zipper, pulling it down as he allowed the slightly younger boy to toy with his arousal.
"Mmmm...Blaise, let's not get ourselves all excited now, hmm?" the blonde purred as his member began to ache.
"Draco, have your way with me any way you want," Blaise whispered"
Draco unzipped his own pants, and pushed Blaise onto the bed. The boy has his knees bent, legs spread, and Draco slid right in.
The blonde slid in and out easily, allowing the boy underneath to clutch onto him. The moaning bugged him, but no matter. He was getting what he wanted.
The bed started to shake, the headboards creaking slightly and Draco pumped Blaise for all he was worth.
"Fuck, Draco," Blaise sighed, his whole body shaking.
Blaise came, biting his lip to keep from screaming.
Draco pounded inside of him one last time.
"Uhn..." he groaned. "Harry"
Draco slowed their pace as he leaned down and kissed Blaise whose eyes were wide in a way he wouldn't normally have kissed him.
"What the--? You just called out 'Harry'!" Blaise said huffily, pushing Draco off of him. "My name is NOT Harry"
Draco blinked.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said nervously, pulling
up his pants. "Of course your name is Blaise. How could I not know the
name of my best friend, the person I've been sleeping with"
Blaise stood up and stared blankly at the blonde, who was now smoking a cigarette.
"You fantasise about HIM instead of me," he said. "Youm DREAM about HIM instead of me, you THINK about him when you're with me, you wish I was him! You love him"
Draco looked away, letting out the smoke he'd just dragged in.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "Love who, exactly, Blaise, who do I love"
Blaise sighed.
"Harry Potter"
Draco scoffed.
"That's where you're wrong"
He took a deep drag of his cigarette.
"Malfoys don't love."