"We're almost there!" shouted the obnoxious younger boy in front of me, his voice piping high-pitched above the dull din of the bus.

I glanced up from my game and looked out the window. It was starting to get dark outside, and I couldn't really see much except the hazy outlines of trees. "It looks like we're in the middle of nowhere," I said to Ron, who just grunted - he couldn't hear me over his music.

Sirius disentangled himself from a shadowy lump in the corner that I thought might be James. "Yep," he said, yawning loudly. "Good ol' Bedlam."

I glanced askance at him and James sat up, too. "If you fucking call this place good ol' again, I'm gonna tell your fucking shrink that you're a gay bastard," James boy threatened.

A flush started on my neck but I just couldn't stop looking as Sirius pushed his face into James's and - oh, gosh - started making sucking noises. I knew gay kids, sure, and I sure as hell wasn't in a position to look down on LGBT teens, but... but making out on the bus? Just right out in public like that? Like everyone was just going to be okay with it? It kind of stung - it was as if they didn't even care. Hadn't they ever had a Dudley in their life?

Sirius pulled back, and in the semi-darkness I swore I saw that lip ring flash again. "Go ahead," he said, mocking. "Imma tell y'mama."

"We're almost there!" sang the kid in front of me. "This summer's gonna be awesome!"

Awesome? At a freak camp? I shook my attention away from Sirius and James and nudged Ron. "We're almost there," I told him. The dread from earlier started up in my throat, and I tried to swallow it. I wasn't a wimp. And it couldn't be that bad.

Ron heaved himself up straighter in his seat, shaking his red hair out of his face. "It's about time," he grumbled, popping out his earbuds. "Honestly, my parents could have just signed me up for community service or something."

Mentally, I thanked him for agreeing that this whole camp thing was awful, but his comment kind of pissed me off. Not at him, at my aunt and uncle. Because I hadn't done anything to deserve community service, much less a fuckin' therapy camp, and now I was stuck here with all these delinquent kids. And I wasn't even a bad kid. In fact, by the average person's standards, I was a good kid. I played basketball, stayed out of the way, and did most of my homework. What more did they want?

Except I knew exactly what they wanted. They'd planned it all out after Dudley was born. And I'd screwed up the family.

I buried those thoughts. It was just two months, and Ron would be here. It would be weird to admit it out loud, but I needed Ron. After middle school and... and everything that had happened in middle school, Ron had saved me. Which sounded girly, so I buried that thought too.

I heaved my backpack up into my lap as the bus started to slow down. "Are we there?" I asked, leaning forward. "I don't see anything."

Sirius laughed, kissing James noisily again, and half-stood in his seat. "Bedlam's a dump, mate," he said. "Basic'lly a bunch o' ol' warehouses wi' cots. An' a coupla dudes wi' nowhere ta go so they volunteer here fo' the summer."

"Sirius's exaggerating," chirped the kid in front of us. "Bedlam's great! And the counselors are really nice, and the cabins are huge, and the food's great!"

"Yeah, if y'all like prison food," said Sirius, grinning at me the way a wolf looks at a sheep.

I swallowed.

All the boys left the bus single-file, and I couldn't help feeling like I was going to jail. A big, stone building loomed ahead of us, and that was all I could see. Prison. A tall man in a suit was waiting for us, and even he looked like a prison guard.

"Welcome to Bedlam Boys' Camp," he said, hands behind his back, feet spread wide apart, eyes fixed on some point over our heads. "As you enter the main building, please remain silent and respectful. You will be assigned a cabin where you will sleep for the duration of your stay. Afterwards, you will report back to the main building for dinner, when the rules will be read. Strict adherence to the rules is compulsory."

Ron leaned in and hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "What's 'compulsory'?"

"It means you have to do it," I whispered back, as soft as I could.

"T'means if ya cross ol' Fudge, ya get in some deep shit," whispered Sirius, not so softly.

"You over there!" snapped Fudge, without looking at any of us. "SIlence is compulsory!"

I decided I was not a fan of Sirius.

"Follow me," said Fudge in a clipped voice, and he turned on his heel and strutted back towards the prison building. The line of boys trailed after him, but I lagged behind, trying to delay this camp thing as long as possible. I was sort of afraid that if I entered the building, they'd never let me leave.

"C'mon, mate," said Sirius, ignoring the "compulsory" rules, and patted me on the head as I passed.

I gritted my teeth and hitched my backpack higher on my back. I hated being short. And I hated the way that people treated me because I was short. "Everything okay down there, sport?" people would say. Fucking bastards.

The inside of the building was big, empty, and sectioned off by those partition boards that didn't even reach halfway to the ceiling. Which was to be expected, I guess, because the ceiling was one of those huge warehouse ceilings that was about two stories high. A fan whirred between the pipes that ran across it. "Not the cozy kind of camp, then," Ron commented.

I swallowed. "Yeah. You can say that again."

"That again," said Ron, all cheeky, and I slugged his shoulder again.

Sirius turned around. "We're delinquen's, ' didja expect, a five-star 'otel?"

I gritted my teeth. We were not all delinquents. Some of us were normal, teenage boys with a few family (and personal) issues, thank you very much, Mr. Lip-Piercing. And this was supposed to be a therapy place, not a prison.

A spindly little guy, probably a college student, checked off names. "Harry Potter?" he called, frowning at the page. "Harry...Potter."

"That's me," I mumbled to Sirius and James, pushing my way past them.

"Nice name," said the counselor in a clipped voice, but I could've sworn he gave me a small smile as he looked back down at the paper. "Cabin 6. Last one."

I wasn't sure exactly what that meant, so I just gripped my backpack and asked, "Um...so, um, do I just go there?"

"Go meet your counselor by the door," said the man, pointing to another door without looking up. "James Evans?"

James ended up joining me next to several other boys and a tall man with a crew cut holding a sign with a 6 on it. The dark-haired boy nodded briefly at me, still messing with his handheld video game.

Sirius came up behind James and slid his hands into the redhead's pockets. "Guess we get ta be tagether again...all summer long," he said with another wicked grin.

"Fuck you," muttered James, squirming away.

Were they dating? I couldn't tell. Maybe they were just...kissy. And gay.

I glanced back at the table and my heart sunk - Ron was already walking towards a different group. He gave me a thumbs-up, but I couldn't shake the fact that they were separating us - and how was that supposed to help me therapize? Or whatever? How was that supposed to help me feel better, if they were abandoning me with strangers?

"Alright, soldiers, let's move!" barked the man with the 6 sign. "Single file, straight down the path! Last building!"

I filed out of the warehouse behind James, who hunched when he went through the door, even though it was nowhere near too small for him. He was probably six four or six five, so I guessed it was just a habit. I wished I had to hunch to go through doors. I wished Ron was coming with us.

The sky was a dark blue painted with the outlines of black trees that surrounded us. So we were in a forest of some sort. Far from civilization. Which meant far from cops. And we were living in cabins with potential sociopaths? How was this supposed to be therapy? It felt more like a death threat.

After too many silent footsteps through the dark, silent night, we reached the end of the path. The counselor marched to the front of the line and unlocked the door to the - well - the cabin, I guessed. But it looked more like an old storage building. Same stone or mortar or whatever, like the warehouse, just smaller. Hopefully that would protect us from the wild animals in the woods. Dammit, I am such a wuss.

The cabin wasn't as big on the inside as it looked on the outside. Just a plain room, with a few couches, a tan carpet, and some shelves with board games. No TV, I noticed. They must have donethat on purpose. For the first time I wondered if they had cell phone reception, and my stomach tightened. I had to be able to call home if I needed anything.

"This is the recreational room," barked the counselor. "That's the bunk room," he pointed to a door, "that's my room," he pointed to a door with a padlock, "and those are the showers. Everyone clear?"

The showers. I swallowed. I'd tried to tell my parents that I'd never survive in communal showers, but they'd assured me that everything would be nice and private, with doors and curtains and everything. I sure hoped they were right. My mom didn't have a great history of being right.

"Now I'm going to give out your bunk assignments. Listen sharp!" he slammed open the heavy metal door to the bunk room and waved his arm impatiently.

The boys all hurried in and stood crowded among rows of bunks. The counselor matched in and shut the door with a loud clank. Everything went black, and I got this prickly, sweaty feeling like the counselor was about to attack us.

Then he flicked a switch and a single lightbulb sputtered to life over our heads. It didn't do much except throw creepy shadows into the corner - yes, I am such a sissy - but it was better than nothing.

"What if the light goes out?" asked the little kid from on the bus, sounding nervous.

"Then you come to get me and I screw in a new lightbulb," barked the counselor. "Alright, bed assignments. Bunk 1A, Colin Creevey."

The little kid glanced around, not so excited anymore. He didn't seem to know where he was going, so the counselor shoved him towards the first row of bunks.

I watched the bunks get assigned boy by boy. Sirius stuck out his tongue when James got paired with a boy named Percy, and slowly the numbers dwindled. Finally, the counselor announced, "Harry Potter, Bunk 7A," and jabbed his thumb at a bunk right in the shadowy corner next to a cracked window. I swallowed hard. How bad can it be?

Shit, that was becoming my motto...

I crossed the room to my bunk as the counselor called, "Tom Riddle, Bunk 7B."

My bunkmate. I turned around, praying it wouldn't be some giant, terrifying hulk, but the boy stepping carefully over to the corner was probably the smallest kid there, even shorter than Colin. He glanced up at me with shy, long-lashed eyes, and I almost stopped breathing.

My bunkmate was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who supported last chapter! PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU WANT A CONTINUATION. I won't update this story unless you guys want me to :)

Again, ages and relationships are variable and not linked to the books. Which reminds me, disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books, they belong to the most wonderful person on this planet (aka Ms. Rowling).

There will be some HarryxTom stuffs but in the end this story will be HarryxDraco. Thanks again!