Disclaimer: I own nothing…..except, apparently, my own perverted thoughts…..

Warning: It's rated M for a reason…..not everything is as it appears….

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"Shut up!" Harry laughed, the bottle of firewhiskey in his hands teetering dangerously to the point of almost spilling. His eyes were glowing with the partial inebriation that had crept in after a few drinks. The fire in the grate was beginning to die down but the couch he was on was warm and comfortable.

"Shut up!" He repeated, "That…that was a strategical maneuver, very complex. It worked just the way I had planned." He smiled before taking another sip from the bottle and passed it to his only companion. His companion had mirth glimmering in his blue eyes as he accepted the drink, although Harry was holding it a good foot to the left of the boy. He brushed a brown lock of hair out of his face before taking a sip.

"Oh so singing and dancing the macarena into the microphone during the quidditch match was secretly and brainwashing tool to distract us?" Terry Boot, Ravenclaw quidditch captain replied. He took the bottle from Harry and polished it off before opening another one.

"It worked, didn't it? I caught the snitch!" Harry proclaimed, drunkenly standing up and attempting to bow. He wound up tripping but luckily landed back on the couch in an undignified heap, had he fallen the other way he would have struck his head on the coffee table. He straightened himself back into a sitting position.

"I hardly think that falling off the bleachers and onto your broom was part of some amazing strategy that helped you find the snitch. You just happened to notice it while plummeting to the earth on your broom!" Terry rebutted. The two sixth years were quiet for a moment. Harry couldn't think of anything to say, however. Harry looked around the Room of Requirement, still pondering its abilities. It seemed that it wouldn't shift into anything while you were in it and if you wanted something you had to clarify that you wanted it before you entered the room. The two boys were sure to make sure there was plenty of alcohol in the room. Harry suddenly thought of his friends back in the common room. Did they even notice he wasn't at the party in celebration of a Gryffindor win?

"D'you reckon the party in my common room is over yet?" Harry finally asked, stealing the firewhiskey while Terry was looking into the fire. The game had really been a brilliant match. Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw was usually pretty good. It was like Slytherin versus Gryffindor only with less cheating and death attempts. However this match proved to be more entertaining than the others. Harry and Terry had run into each other in the library the previous night and began good-natured arguments about the others flying skills.

"You know, I've always wondered, back in third year, if the dementors hadn't come along who would have won the Hufflepuff game." Terry asked.

"Pfft. Me, of course!" Harry replied. Terry laughed.

"Really? You think a lot of yourself don't you?" He asked jokingly. Harry shook his head.

"Not really. I'm actually really unconfident most of the time. But quidditch…quidditch is one thing I will always be sure of" Harry said. Terry quirked an eyebrow.

"Sure enough to…have a little wager?" He asked. Harry smirked and leaned in.

"I'm listening." He said, smiling.

"I bet that tomorrow, I will kick your sorry behind! And if I do, you have to do whatever I want after the game." he said. Harry merely rolled his eyes.

"Seriously? All I have to do is beat you? At least make it difficult. I could beat you at quidditch if I was….stark raving drunk!"

"Ok then." Terry said.

"What?" Harry asked, unsure of what just happened.

"You will get 'stark raving drunk' tomorrow before the game. And then we'll see how great you really are!" Terry suggested. Harry leaned back before offering his hand to Terry.

"Deal"

They had met in the room of requirement before the game, as Terry wanted to get Harry good and drunk so that Harry couldn't cheat. They had both gone and walked to the quidditch pitch after promising to meet back in the room after the match.

Wouldn't you know that Harry was a very fun drunk. Most of the game had been spent laughing at Harry's antics. He would fly around like crazy, doing tricks and spins for the laughing audience. The Macarena incident had only been one of many. He had actually begun the game by asking Madame Hooch if the game could be played "Sky-clad". Upon the negative reply he turned to his team for the pep talk.

"Alright team. As your captain and, sub sequentially, "Sex God of the Universe", I tell you now that our team will go Long, Hard, and Deep. Now, let's charge into battle, naked like the Celts!"

He had also attempted to communicate with his team using only Madonna lyrics…suffice it to say, nobody had understood what he meant. The things Harry did with the goal posts….two words: Pole Dancing. Terry was unsure as to whether anybody knew he was drunk. Harry was a fun kid who liked to have a good time (particularly now that Voldemort was gone.)

Terry came out of his reverie as he realized that he had not responded to Harry's question yet. He looked at his watch.

"I'd say that the party has about another hour to go yet." Terry told him. The other boy nodded his head. Harry seemed to be hypnotized by the fire that was now dying in the place. He watched as he took another long sip from the whiskey bottle. Harry had great alcohol tolerance. After the match that afternoon, Terry told Harry to meet him in the Room of Requirement at 7:00. It was not midnight and they had only begun drinking at around ten because Harry didn't want to drink while still drunk from the game. Once he had sobered up again they began to drink.

And they'd been at it for hours, talking about everything and nothing, from serious relationships to what they thought the new flavor of Bertie Botts every flavor beans might be. They were both wearing simple outfits, generically the same: sweatpants and t-shirts. Suddenly Harry cocked his head a bit and turned to look at Terry

"Why did you decide to make that bet with me?" Harry asked. He realized that he hadn't asked why at the time. But now, he wanted to know what Terry had had up his sleeve at the suggestion of the bet. Terry shifted a bit, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"What…" Harry murmered "Thought that if I was incapacitated then you could beat me?" Harry's words were slurring a bit. He out of the two of them was the most drunk of them both, even after the original inebriation had worn off. In fact, Terry seemed to not be very drunk at all.

"No…." Terry murmered. Harry smirked.

"Of course….you couldn't beat me at all, proven so today!" Harry laughed. Terry glared jokingly at Harry. But Harry found himself shuddering anyway. It seemed behind the fake glare there laid a real one. Terry pushed Harry's shoulder. Harry retaliated and soon they were wrestling on the couch. They both laughed as they rolled onto the floor. They continued fighting for dominance on the floor. Terry, however, was the stronger of the two and eventually was on top of Harry, his weight holding him down. There was also the fact that Harry was a fair bit more drunk than Terry.

They lay on the floor in that position for a few moments, catching their breath. The room was quiet but for the light gasps of the boys.

"Pin" Terry, all but whispered. They his face took on something different altogether. Harry looked at him curiously, not being able to place what was on Terry's mind. All that he knew was that they were still on the floor and Terry was still straddling him. Harry shifted a bit uncomfortably as it didn't seem that Terry would be getting off anytime soon.

"Oi…"Harry said "Terry…um...you can get off of me now." Harry's face was red, whether from being out of breath, drunk, or blushing was unknown. Terry didn't move. He leaned forward a little bit until their mouths were almost touching. Harry felt Terry's breath ghosting over his lips, enticing him.

Harry had never kissed a boy before. He had barely kissed any girls. Here was an opportunity presenting itself. Everyone experiments, right? Of course, Harry knew he was straight. He liked women very much. But he was allowed one experimental kiss. It would mean nothing. One little kiss couldn't hurt could it?

Yes, it could.

But when Terry closed the distance between them, Harry didn't pull away. He was frozen for a few moments before returning the kiss, tentatively. He found Terry's lips very soft and welcoming and soon Harry found himself closing his eyes and opening his mouth. The hot mouths tangled together and neither boy knew whose tongue was whose. Harry's mind was a jumble, all he could think of was the lips pressed into his.

Several heavy minutes later they broke apart.

"Wow…" Harry murmered, his lips swollen and eyes still closed. Terry's forehead was pressed against Harry's

"Yeah" Terry whispered, equally blown away "I've been waiting for a long time to do that." Harry opened his eyes at that.

"What?" Harry asked. Harry and Terry barely knew each other. They had only begun talking recently and had never really "hung out" as friends before that night. Terry's eyes opened too, his blue eyes gazing into Harry's.

"Yeah…I've wanted to kiss you for a long time. I've been watching you, wanting you…now I can have you." He whispered, a strange look having come into his eyes. Harry found himself pondering that phrase worriedly in his head. Terry wanted to "Have" him? What did that mean? How long had he been watching Harry. A small feeling of dread crept into his heart.

"No…Terry, I'm sorry. Look it was just a kiss, I...it didn't mean anything." Harry said "I like you as a friend but I don't like blokes that way…I think I've had a little too much whiskey." Harry was embarrassed as his voice came out in merely a whisper.

"Actually, I think you've had just enough." Terry said, leaning in and kissing Harry again. Harry's eyes widened as his mouth was assaulted yet again. He tore his face away, breaking the kiss.

"Stop, okay I think it's time to get up." Harry said, his words still slurring just a touch but this statement was a bit more forceful than previously. When Terry didn't budge, Harry tried to move on his own. "Seriously, please get off of me." Terry shook his head. The look in his eyes made Harry's heart thud loudly as he realized that he may have gotten into something he can't get out of again.

"Not now, not when I've got you where I want you. We both know you're too drunk to stand, let alone walk away." He said in a voice that scared Harry "Now I will get what I want." He ran his hand up Harry's side. Harry gulped and began to struggle.

"Terry, you're scaring me now" Harry said, frantically "Get off!"

"Not a chance in Hell" The bigger boy whispered before crushing Harry's lips with his own. He pulled his hands up and used them to press Harry's shoulders into the floor. Harry made a small whimpering sound and pushed his fists into Terry's chest. He began pounding on the boy on top of him, his cries muffled by the mouth on top of his own. Terry stopped holding his weight up and let his chest down on top of Harry's, effectively trapping his hands there. With Harry's hands unable to fight against him, He removed his from Harry's shoulders and began to roam Harry's body.

Harry was panicked, kicking his legs, trapped between Terry's own. Harry jarred his head trying to get his mouth off of Terry's. In the process Harry bit his teeth down and was lucky enough to bite Terry's lower lip. Terry leaned up and glared at Harry. He smacked Harry across the face. It hurt but now Harry's hands were free. He began to pound Terry's chest again, as hard as he could in his drunken state.

From deep within the recesses of Harry's body he found a second wind and thrust his body up and successfully threw the brown haired boy off of him. Harry stood and attempted to run, in what direction he didn't care, he just wanted to put space between him and the crazed quidditch player. Terry, being the sober one, quickly caught up to Harry before he could so much as take a few steps. He grabbed Harry around his waist and Harry felt his stomach churn as he felt hardness pressed against his bottom.

Harry twisted from side to side and slammed his fists into his attackers clasped hands. The hands were so tightly clenched that Harry was sure that it would bruise. Seeing that the grip was not going to be broken and Terry was now kissing Harry's neck, Harry tried another approach. He kicked his feet into the air, throwing his weight around. Finally, success! They fell sideways into the small table that was in the room, breaking it into splinters. They lay on their sides in the mess and Harry immediately began to try and crawl away. On his hands and knees he teetered from side to side as the door seemed to stay the same distance away and was moving from side to side. Harry felt his body slam into the ground and vaguely wondered if he had fallen. A quick tug on his ankle told him that he had been grabbed by Terry. He was dragged backwards, tears falling from his eyes as he clawed helplessly at the carpet, getting rug burns on his hands. His ankle was released but seconds later Harry felt hands on his hips. He was being pulled by his pants towards Terry. To his horror, he found his pants were sliding off. Suddenly, Harry got an idea. He began wriggling his legs, trying to get the pants off. Harry felt his pants slide off and Harry had nothing restraining him and he ran to the door in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. In any other situation he would have found this comical. He had just reached the door when a large weight slammed against, pressing him against the door.

Harry's cheek was sure to bruise and it felt like one of his ribs would follow suit.

He felt the now familiar presence of Terry as his hands roamed and groped, leaving flaming heat in their wake. Harry's tears fell even harder now. Terry's hands reached around to the front of Harry's body. Harry felt his hands on his chest and jolted in shock when the front was ripped open leaving his chest bare.

"I love you" Terry whispered to the object of his obsession before flipping him around so that they were face to face once more.

"Please….don't do this…I won't tell anyone…I swear…." Harry pleaded, his voice shaking and tears clouding his vision, Harry realizing then that his glasses had been knocked off sometime during the fight. Terry leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Harry's lips before putting his mouth next to Harry's ear.

"I want to hear you scream"

Harry stopped breathing. He didn't feel anything as Terry ripped him from the door and threw him to the ground. Harry didn't even attempt to stand. Terry shouted at him and kicked him in his side several times, one actually hitting his face. Bruised and bloody, he felt Terry turn him over and pull him up by his hair. He was thrown onto the couch that, while earlier warmed his body, now felt cold and hard. Now, lying on the couch in boxers with bruises and blood marring the visible skin on his chest and one of his eyes swollen shut with blood from some unknown wound on his forehead, he watched Terry approach. He was still murmuring promises of silence and pleas for release. But when Terry climbed onto the couch it was like his mind could no longer process thought. Hands were pressing him down on his back, his legs were pulled apart and then it was like he was being ripped in half and he was on fire. He was sure he screamed as his voice felt hoarse later, but he remembered nothing but the blue eyes that bore into his and refused to look away, and the moans of the boy above him….moaning his name.

And then Terry gave one final thrust, crying Harry's name loudly. He kissed Harry's lips, whispering 'I love you' one final time before straightening himself and exiting the room.

Harry didn't know how long he laid there, shaking, staring straight at the ceiling. He vaguely remembered pathetically pulling his boxers up before he fell off the couch, causing a blanket to flutter down on top of him. He lay there, sprawled on his stomach, bleeding from several wounds, his boxers stained with blood and semen. Harry fell into the darkness with the morbid thought that nobody knew where he was, who he was with, and probably wouldn't miss him until he didn't show up for classes on Monday. The fire in the grate finally went out, leaving Harry shivering under the thin blanket.

Sunday night

Hermione Granger was not impressed. Harry had yet to return to Gryffindor Tower and it was Sunday night, well over 24 hours after the game. They had classes the next day and Hermione assumed that he had gone off to celebrate with some girl. Finally she climbed off of the couch and, dragging Ron with her, began to scour the castle for Harry.

After several hours of fruitless search Hermione stopped. Mentally smacking herself she headed off in the direction of the room of requirement. She walked past it, thinking of looking for Harry. The door appeared and she and Ron stepped through. Ron smirked as Hermione rolled her eyes. The room was empty, save for a couch, a broken table and Harry lying under a blanket on the floor, surrounded by whiskey bottles. All they could see was an arm sticking out from under the blanket, but Harry's glasses were on the floor.

"Harry should know better than to drink alone, especially when nobody knows where he is!" Hermione scolded no one in particular. They walked over to Harry and removed the blanket, eliciting a shocked gasp out of the two friends. There lay Harry, in boxers and a ripped shirt, covered with bruises, cuts, and blood. It was enough to make anyone sick. They watched in horror for a few moments and were highly relieved when they saw he was taking shallow breaths, but noticed that it was very laboured and Harry was shivering uncontrollably. Ron turned and ran out of the room.

"Professor Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey!" He shouted "Bloody Hell, Professor Snape! Anyone! Help!"

Harry found himself waking from his slumber in the hospital wing. It was deadly quiet. Harry sat up and looked around. He hadn't been there in a while but the room seemed ridiculously white, more so than usual. The sheets and blanket felt stiff and starchy as he shoved them aside. He took a tentative step, waiting for Madame Pomfrey to come and shout at him to get back in bed. When no shout came he paused curiously.

"Hello?" He called out. No one responded He saw his glasses on the bedside table and put them on. This was odd….Madame Pomfrey was always bustling around. Harry walked around a bit looking for anyone. He turned his head around a corner but there was still nobody in sight and judging by the complete silence around him it seemed like there was nobody in the whole school. He turned back to his bed and saw that there was a single card standing on his bed table. That hadn't been there when he woke up. He stepped over cautiously and picked it up. The whole card was white. There was no writing on the front or the back. Harry opened it up and inside there were three words written that made Harry's blood run cold.

'I love you'

Harry glanced around frantically, as if Terry were hiding behind him somewhere. He spun around several times, even going so far as to fall to the ground and check under the beds. Relieved to see that he was nowhere in sight, Harry put the card in the drawer, successfully hiding it from view. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned around to find Terry's face merely inches from his own with a twisted look on his face. He screamed, backing up against the bedside table, calling for help from anyone.

"He's here! Help me, please, anyone!"

Madame Pomfrey called to Ron to help her hold Harry down on the bed. He had awoken from a nightmare screaming and flailing.

"He's here! He's here, help me please!"

Hermione felt tears streaming down at her face as they attempted to soothe Harry, telling him that he was not here, nobody would hurt him. Hermione sobbed in frustration and anger at the person who had done this to Harry. This was the third time Harry had had a haunting nightmare about the man who had hurt him. It seemed that Harry saw him everywhere in his dreams. Even for the brief time he had been awake and coherent to speak to them, he kept glancing around as if the man would jump out from behind a curtain. Hermione was furious, helping find the man in anyway they would let her. This man owed everyone in here a debt of sorts. He had scarred Harry for life….he would be always paranoid, never able to shake the feeling of someone following him.

He would never be the same.

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I told you not everything was as it seemed! I got ideas for the quidditch game from a list 'Things Harry Potter is no longer allowed to do' by Violet Black. The end of the fic was inspired by the end of the movie 'When a Stranger Calls'

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