The next few weeks of summer flew by for Harry. Which was surprising considering where he was living. After Harry's parents were killed, he was placed with his mothers sister, Petunia and her own family which consisted of her husband, Vernon Dursley and their son, Dudley. Harry's earlier years with his aunt and uncle were less than satisfactory. He was subjected to hard labor and brutal verbal abuse. But, alas, when Harry turned eleven their worse fear became an abrupt reality. Harry started at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Dursley's fear of magic kept them from toeing any lines in fear of having any one from Harry's 'world' to answer to. This kept Harry content but it didn't help with the monotony of the white-bread, middle class, cookie cutter housing development he was forced to spend his summers out when school was out of session.
"Wha choo doin'?" Dudley questioned with his pink cheeks filled to their maximum capacity with food as Harry strolled by the living room. The question made Harry jump considering he didn't notice his obese cousin lounging on the couch. Since the start of the summer holidays, Dudley seemed to make an it his obsession to break the world record of sitting in one place for the longest period in time. His chosen perch was the living room couch, in front of his gaming consoles. After numerous, teary attempts, Harry's aunt finally gave in to the fact that her son was destined to spend the remainder of his life single, overweight, and with his mouth a permanent vacuum .
"What's it to you?" Harry mumbled back, gazing at the television and becoming transfixed on the first person shooter Dudley was playing. Harry hated to admit his cousin was actually really good.
"Nuttin, just bored," Dudley drawled "Piers found a giiirlfriiiend and now pussy is controlling his life."
Harry sniggered at the way Dudley pronounced 'girlfriend'. He understood the frustration of losing his guy friends to the fairer sex. It would seem as if girls were toxic drugs in which men have yet to become immune to. Except if you were Harry Potter. Harry became aware of the fact that he was, in fact, immune to intoxicating and delicate beauty in which, were women. This nagging awareness resulted in awkward situations where Harry was forced to play the part of a hormonal teenage boy and partake in perverted conversations with other boys his age. It didn't take long for Harry to master the art of verbal and demonstrative perversion. He became so good with this role, he almost started believing he was actually sexually attracted to women. Almost.
"Well, why don't you try picking up a girl for yourself?" Harry almost doubled over with his own comment. He knew damn well that his cousin had about as much chance with a woman as a one eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater. And that's surely a sight to see.
"Pfft," Dudley commented, "I refuse to become a mindless drooling drone for some bitch. Pussy can't be that great, can it?"
Harry was startled. His cousin actually thinks he's had sex with a girl? "um...," He stammered "yeah, it was fantastic...really...warm." Harry could have slapped himself. Warm? "I mean...it was great. A hundred times better than masturbating." Now Harry was just going by what Dean told him in their fourth year.
Dudley looked thoughtful for a moment than turned back to his game, probably more out of habit than disinterest. This pause in the conversation gave Harry a chance to make an exit out of the living room and into the kitchen. Without putting any thought into the sandwich he started making, his thoughts drifted back to the conversation he just had. Harry knew that not being interested in girls was a bad thing. What would Ron say? He knew his bossy friend Hermione would start analyzing him from the moment he told her until she could scientifically figure him out like he was some specimen. Harry cleared his thoughts and shoved the mayonnaise back into the fridge and took his meal up into his room. He had more important things to worry about. Like being murdered, or worse, having one of his friends murdered.
Harry had trouble sleeping that night. It was his last night with the Dursleys before he'd be reunited with his friends at the Burrow. Not only was Ron his best friend and closest thing he's ever had to a brother, but his own relatives became the closest thing to a family that Harry's ever had. Ron's mother, Molly, fretted over him like he was her own offspring. Harry didn't mind, it was nice having a comforting mother-figure to embrace and constantly agitate him over whether or not he's been eating enough. And ever since the death of his godfather, three years ago, Ron's father became a strong uncle figure, always willing to give Harry fatherly advice. Harry agreed with his thoughts about being incredibly lucky and thanked his lucky stars. Not only was adolescence tough, but being a wizard (famous, at that) with a mass murderer after you could definitely bring some extra stress into anyones life.