When Harry woke, it was with a false sense of security, one usually only generated by him falling asleep at Hogwarts or at the Burrow.

Staring up at the powder blue ceiling that belonged to neither Hogwarts or the Burrow, listening to the quiet breathing of the four other teenagers sleeping in the beds opposite his, he realised something simple.

He hated that feeling, he hated how fake it was.

He wasn't in Hogwarts, and he wasn't in the Burrow. He was somewhere else, surrounded by people he didn't know, people who were apparently his brothers and sisters. He hated how he'd been swarmed yesterday when Dumbledore had portkeyed them to a quiet hill with an archway with 'Camp Half-Blood' carved on it. He hated how his 'siblings' had just taken it for granted that he was 'one of them', that his old life didn't matter any more, that his mother (who wasn't his mother) was nothing more than a stand-in for a Goddess that Harry didn't believe in.

Lily Potter had sacrificed herself so that he could life… Aphrodite had abandoned him for fifteen long years.

Five guesses who the 'Mother of the Year' award went to.

Letting out a slow sigh as movement made him glance over, Harry made sure his 'half-brothers' were still sleeping before he quietly kicked his blankets back and slipped out of bed. Quickly opening his trunk and grabbing the first shirt he saw, he couldn't help but let out a low growl as it shimmered for a moment and the simple polo-shirt changed into an elegant black tunic. After the next three shirts turned into the exact same thing, Harry gave up and changed out of his pyjamas and into the black tunic and the 'skinny jeans' (which, to put it bluntly, felt like they were crushing his man-parts) that his 'mother' apparently insisted he wore.

Pulling on his quidditch boots which Aphrodite must have approved of (part of him feared this was only because quidditch boots were thigh-high), Harry snatched up his wand and the holster Professor Dumbledore had given him before returning to the school, attaching them to his forearm beneath his sleeve.

Looking up at the ceiling, which oh Merlin sparkled, Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrows and hiss out a sarcastic "Am I pretty?"

Unfortunately for him the response was a cloud of red smoke that engulfed him, reminiscent of yesterday when Aphrodite had claimed him, Harry unable to stop the high-pitched whimper that escaped his lips when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. "Make up? Really?" he whined, shooting the ceiling a lost look, "I take it back. Please?"

Letting out a sigh of relief when the red smoke returned to remove all but the lipstick on his lips (which was strawberry flavoured for some reason), Harry made a run for the door, slipping out of the bedroom he shared with his male siblings and freezing at the sight of the half-dozen pyjamaed girls (and the pyjamaed form of Mitchell, his other brother) who were all splayed about the cushions gathered in front of the fireplace in what Harry imagined was the typical 'sleepover position'. Swallowing nervously as he managed to shut the door silently, he tried to sneak past them all towards the door to the outside, and to freedom.

Fingers curling around the door handle, he couldn't help but curse under his breath as he heard a sleepy "Harry? Where're you going?" cutting through the otherwise silent room.

Glancing over his shoulder at his waking siblings, Harry decided to just risk it, throwing the door open and breaking into a run across the gardens between the cabins. If there was only one thing he knew about his 'family' after half a day of being forced to listen to gossip about fashion and 'babes', was that they would never risk chasing after him and being seen by others in their pjs.

Merlin… this place was going to drive him crazy. Even if Harry were a demigod, then why couldn't he be the son of a God or Goddess that was… cooler? He'd seen some of the sons of Apollo; God of the Son at the archery range during his tour yesterday, and then there were the children of Ares; God of War, who were rather intimidating with their heavily armoured forms and their huge weapons. But no… he had to be the Son of Aphrodite? And er, no offence to any homosexuals out there, but the other five Sons – his brothers – all seemed rather faggy. Half-way through introducing himself, Mitchell had broken down into a complete panic because his nail polish had smudged. Two more of his brothers had been fiddling with their hair, another had been reading something called a 'Vogue', and his final brother had been writing love poems.

And Harry, with his quidditch and his fashion sense so disturbed that it made Voldemort's black robes look stylish, didn't fit in with them one bit.

Sliding into cover behind the cabin he was certain belonged to the children of Hermes, Harry peered back towards his own cabin and sighed in relief when he only saw the door slamming shut. Shaking off what Hermione referred to lovingly as his 'Harry-Angst', he pushed away from the cabin and started sneaking across the garden, knowing from yesterday's tour that the mess hall was on the opposite side of the cabins to where he was.

However, as Harry's luck would have it, he'd barely passed Apollo's golden cabin before he was being surrounded by grinning demigods. The looks on their faces, and the way they all deferred to the big guy leading them instantly reminding him of Dudley and his little 'gang', causing him to bite back a groan of annoyance as he realised he'd never really be free of people who thought themselves superior to him for some reason or another.

"Well, looky here boys," the guy leading what were obviously the children of Ares, "The new guy's saved us the trouble of hunting us down. How nice of him".

"Yeah, well I don't like to be difficult," Harry countered automatically, his fingers twitching with the urge to draw his wand even as he scouted out the area around him in case he had to run.

"I bet you don't," the leader agreed smugly, "Talk about easy".

Wait what? Harry's eyes narrowed as the demigods laughed. Did that guy just call him easy? Oh he was so going down first.

"I bet you talk about easy a lot," Harry's mouth countered before he could stop it, "You seem the type to talk about himself".

The children of Ares froze, a couple of them looking impressed as they glanced between Harry and their glaring leader. "What did you just say?" the older teen growled out

"I said, 'You're easy'," Harry repeated, "Well actually I just paraphrased myself," he corrected as his inner-Hermione pointed out the difference. "I guess I should have said it simpler though, since apparently your reading level is also set to 'easy'".

Dammit! Shut up Harry!

Drawing his bronze sword, the leader stepped forward with an ugly look on his face, "We were going to introduce you to the Camp toilets," he snarled out "But now I'm just going to hurt you".

As the leader lunged for him Harry felt years of quidditch-honed reflexes kicking in instantly, guiding him out of the way of the demigod's swing, and then letting his bitterness at being called 'easy' step him back in to drive his fist into the boy's crooked nose. Still moving on some kind of instinct, Harry lashed out with his foot and drove his hardened quidditch boots into the demigod's elbow, a yell of pain filling the air as the bronze sword fell straight into Harry's waiting hand.

"You know that saying," Harry began as the leading Son of Ares fell to his knees before him, "'I'm a lover, not a fighter'? Yeah, that doesn't apply to me so much," he confessed as he pulled the sword back and drove its hilt into the demigod's face, making him drop limply to the grass.

"So," he asked as he stepped over the unconscious demigod, shifting his grip on the bronze sword to make it more comfortable, "Who's next?"

Apparently they all were…

Jumping back to avoid them all, Harry almost tripped over their fallen leader, bringing his new sword up as if by instinct to block the closest demigod, causing the sound of metal striking metal to cut through the quiet morning air. Moving lightly to the side and slashing back at the demigod, Harry tried his best to ignore his guilt as he opened up a gash on the boy's face, the injury thankfully only looking superficial as he sunk his foot into the boy's stomach to knock him away. Blocking another attack, Harry found himself thanking whichever God was listening that his usual magical fighting abilities somehow managed to translate across to physical combat without any issues.

Resisting the urge to pull his wand and add magic to the mix (since some part of him wanting to take them down in a fair fight, magic being 'cheating'), Harry just kept backing away from the flowers and bushes and onto one of the basketball courts, knowing that having more stable footing would help keep him standing for even longer. Ducking a swing that had definitely been aimed for his neck, Harry lashed out and drove his booted foot into the boy's manhood, refusing to feel any guilt about that at all when the other had just tried to kill him.

"Cheat!"

"There are," Harry paused to block and stab at a female child of Ares, "Six of you, and one of me! All's fair in love and war!"

Huh… where were all these lover/fighter comments coming from? Although… all's fair in love and war? He liked the sound of that.

"And," he continued as swapped the sword to his other hand so he could draw his wand with his dominant one, "This is war".

Raising his wand to point it at the daughter of Ares with the spear, Harry flicked his wand and watched ropes exploded from its tip to wrap around the girl's arms and legs, dropping her to the floor as Harry knocked the guy's sword to the side with the flat of his blade before promptly stunning him.

Turning to face the final standing demigod, Harry raised both his wand and the sword expectantly, his eyebrow shooting up as he watched the boy backing away nervously. Faking a charge, he watched in amusement as the teenager tripped over his own feet in an effort to get away, looking around the five fallen groaning demigods as a slow grin formed on his face.

Oh yeah… he was awesome.

Returning his wand to its holster, Harry stabbed the sword into the ground near its owner and glanced around, freezing as he realised that perhaps half of the camp were gathered around the doors of their cabins staring at him. Flinching as someone started clapping suddenly, Harry jumped as Mitchell appeared beside him out of nowhere, their eldest sister Silena popping up as well to pull Harry into a hug and lift him into the air with an excited squeal as an applause echoed between the cabins.

As he was finally set down, the rest of Aphrodite cabin swarming around him, all of them talking excitedly, Harry glanced down at his tunic when it was plucked on. Mouth falling open as he saw the large gash cut across the chest of his tunic, revealing his bare chest beneath it, Harry couldn't help but feel a little angry as he let out a growl.

"Dammit! This was my favourite tunic!"

Lover and a Fighter

Okay, so this is two in one night, so I'm pretty pleased with myself. This is inspired by the 'I'm a Lover' challenge that was inspired by this idea, which was inspired by the prompt of the previous chapter... yeah, my head hurst just thinking about it.

Anyway, the idea of this challenge was to have a Harry who is the Son of Aphrodite, who isn't a - excuse my language - queer little fuck... Harry is going to be badass, end of story.

I don't own Harry Potter or Percy Jackson