Hey all, this is the one that I was asked to do by someone whose name I have forgotten. They were on Ffnet though… Oh t was Afraidofreality! Anyway, it’s only going to be five chapters long, and I have 3 more of Wolf to go, so once they are all done, I’ll get to work on Hush Little Baby which is the Harry/Lucius one I have been dying to do….

Providing Eirecom agree. (see end note).

Disclaimer: Well, J.K owns it all and I am merely playing with her creations. I have no rights, and I admit it, so don’t sue me.

Summary: The Dursley’s abuse worsens. The 7th years are forced to spend their school year at Smelting for a special Muggle Studies course. When Dudley tells everyone about Harry’s home life, will he be able to handle it, considering his crush now thinks he’s a freak? No Voldemort.

Rating: R/NC-17 eventually. SLASH!!

A/N: I will do Hush Little Baby (which is the H/L one) when Wolf is finished. But I planned this out at about 5 chapters, so it shouldn’t take me too long.

XXX

Words: 5,954

Chapter 1

Murphy’s Law

Harry James Potter lived at number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, and had since he was fifteen-months-old. His parents had died protecting young Harry from a very bad man named Lord Voldemort. Harry, like his parents and their killer, was capable of performing magic. Born a Wizard and raised a Muggle, Harry Potter was very familiar with the term ‘Murphy’s Law’. Usually, when bad things occurred, they happened all at once to one person. And because of some twist of Fate, where Harry was the only person ever to survive the deadliest Curse ever invented, Murphy’s Law could be found in the dictionary beside a picture of Harry Potter.

His family were Muggles, and he had always thought he was one of them – except a little bit freakish. His Father had been a Pureblood Wizard, and a very rich one at that. Unfortunately, Voldemort killed all of his Father’s family so he had no choice but to live with his Mother’s family.

Aunt Petunia hated magic, and Uncle Vernon feared it. Dudley Dursley – his whale sized Cousin – just plain hated him. Not that Harry was overly fond of Dudley either, but still. All through his childhood, the Dursley family tried their very best to make Harry wish he had died along side his parents. Harry, at times, sincerely wished he had as well. Anything would be better than living at number 4, Privet Drive after all.

Not to mention school! Dudley made very sure that Harry had no friends. Not a single person would speak to Harry or look at him throughout his entire Primary school experience. Although that got a little better when Dudley went off to Smeltings and Harry went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had friends at least. Good friends, loyal friends, who loved him and begged right along side him for Dumbledore to let him stay anywhere other than number 4, Privet Drive.

Even after Voldemort was defeated at the end of Harry’s sixth year, Albus Dumbledore – Headmaster and busy-body – still insisted it wasn’t safe to leave the Wards around his Aunt’s home. Surprisingly, Draco Malfoy, the Son of who everyone assumed to be Voldemort’s greatest supporter, Lucius, had turned the tide. Everyone had been on tether hooks, just waiting for the gathering Death Eaters who were already spread out through the grounds of Hogwarts to storm the castle. Instead, of opening the doors like he was meant to, Draco ran straight to Dumbledore. And he handed over the very last Horcrux. Harry Potter defeated the evilest Dark Lord of their time.

Lucius Malfoy had stood by the younger blond’s side – after being released from Azkaban Prison – and smiled proudly when the Minister of Magic decided that Draco should be given an Order of Merlin, Second Class. Of course, Malfoy was annoyed that Harry got a First Class award; but Draco got to stay for the celebration, Harry was sent back to his Uncle’s.

With Voldemort gone, the Dursley’s didn’t see a point in having to put up with the freak, and Harry had to agree with them, but Dumbledore insisted. And while they had been neglectful before, they were never particularly abusive: until now. Apparently, they had done their duty by keeping the boy alive until he could kill Voldemort. Since the Wizarding World had given him back, he was obviously theirs to do with as they wished.

And both Dudley and Vernon had many nasty ideas in mind for the boy neither liked in the slightest.

Vernon Dursley was a large man, dwarfed only in size by his obese Son. He had a straggly brown moustache and thinning brown hair. His face turned the most peculiar shade of purple when he was angry. And right at that moment, he was so angry; the purple of his face had almost turned to black.

Dudley Dursley had been described as big boned by his family many times, but truthfully, he was just fat. He wasn’t a nice boy. He was spoilt, and ugly, cruel, selfish and a bully. But he still had more friends than Harry did – people who were just like Dudley, just as horrid and hated by the majority. At that moment, Dudley had thought it would be a great idea to invite his friend Piers Polkiss over. The two boys were in Dudley’s second bedroom – which was the room Harry slept in – standing over the boy who looked sparse seconds away from death.

Vernon was angry, because he hadn’t been invited to the party.

Usually, Harry was a very good-looking young man, although he wouldn’t believe that if you told him so. He had shaggy black hair that always hung in his face, but fortunately covered the lightening bolt scar on his forehead, given to him by Voldemort. He was short, and thin, but he was tanned and toned due to all the housework he did at number 4, Privet Drive.

At the moment, he looked like death warmed over. One of his stunning green eyes was swollen shut. The other peered at Vernon groggily through the broken lenses of his out-dated glasses. His lip was split and dribbling blood down his chin. The rest of his face was a mixture of purple, yellow and green bruises. The rest of his was just as bad. His left arm was broken at the wrist and elbow and hung limply by his side. His right leg was almost completely covered in multi-coloured bruises. And he was sure he had a cracked rib, or two.

“Out, now,” Vernon ordered, his voice trembling in anger. The two bullies scampered from the room in fear. Harry tried to roll out of the way, but he couldn’t move, it just hurt too much. He cried out as Vernon’s fist connected with his nose. “You bloody freak!”

What have I done now? Harry thought with a mental groan of pain.

It had never been like this. Even though Harry didn’t know it, they knew he was a Wizard, and they feared that someone would have been watching them. They had never dared hurt the boy. Not like this: they had starved him before, and locked him up inside of his room, and hit him over the head with saucepans and dishes, he’d even been slapped across the face once or twice; but nothing like this before.

Tentatively, Harry lifted a hand to touch his now broken nose, and winced. “I’ve had enough of you, boy. Always making trouble, causing us trouble. We were kind to you, we took you in when your freak parents blew themselves up! You’ve killed that freak! They don’t want you anymore, boy. We have never wanted you. No one wants you, you freak! You should have died with your parents!”

Unable to control himself anymore Harry sniffled and shouted back, “I know! I wish I had!”

Rather than be pleased that Harry had agreed with him, Vernon’s face turned a darker shade of purple as his foot slammed against Harry’s ribs. “Ignorant, wilful boy, how dare you mock me! Do you think I’m stupid? I know how you work, boy. You’re just waiting for them to come and save you, but they won’t. They don’t want you.”

My friends want me, they do, he thought to himself, desperately.

As if Vernon was reading his mind, he suddenly sneered unpleasantly. “Even if a few of them want you, boy, they won’t when I’m done with you.” Harry frowned in confusion. He could hide cuts and bruises; he could heal broken bones in time. There was nothing Vernon could do that would make Ron and Hermione hate him. Nothing!

Vernon kicked Harry onto his stomach, and while the boy was lost in thought, quickly used his belt to tie Harry’s arms to the metal headboard of the bed. When Vernon ripped Harry’s trousers off him, the boy shivered from the cold; and finally came back to reality.

“What are you doing? Stop it! STOP IT!” Harry struggled, but his hands were tied too tightly, and Vernon was sitting across his legs. He began to cry, “Please stop it.” His entire body ached from Dudley’s beating. Harry was, truthfully, rather innocent for a celebrity. He knew how men had sex, in theory, considering he was gay, himself. He also knew there was a word for when you were made to have sex when you didn’t want to: rape. And despite his innocence, Harry knew just what Vernon planned to do to him… take his virginity.

But what Harry couldn’t understand was how that would matter to his friends? He’d still be Harry, and he wouldn’t need to tell anyone. And Vernon wouldn’t tell anyone he’d broken the law, so it wouldn’t matter. He could just forget about this. It didn’t happen, it hadn’t happened to him.

With that thought, he felt as if he was floating. He looked down, and below him was Uncle Vernon, rutting, thrusting back and forth against a pale, black haired boy who looked suspiciously like Harry. Harry frowned, something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. His arse hurt, a lot, but why would it? Vernon wasn’t touching him, was he? Harry shivered at the thought. Maybe it was him and he was disassociating? Maybe he was going insane?

Maybe Vernon would kill him when he’s done.

He opened his eyes wide, in pain and shock, as something wet flooded his insides and Vernon gave a loud grunt. Harry sobbed against the threadbare pillow on his bed. It hadn’t happened to him, it hadn’t, it couldn’t have. He was a hero, a saviour. He killed Voldemort… he killed! It was a punishment, it must be, he hadn’t done anything else wrong. Did that mean Vernon was right to rape him? Was it his fault?

Vernon got up, and without a word to his nephew, left the room. The moment he was gone, Harry realized he was untied. He moved his hands and began to rub at the backs of his thighs and his arms, legs, stomach, and buttock. He was so dirty, he felt so dirty. He could still feel hands all over him, touching him, groping him, wanting him to be soiled.

He shuddered, and overcome with the desire to empty his stomach, he ran to the window, as quickly as his aching anus would allow, and heaved out of the window. He staggered back to his bed, and took one look at the bloodied and come stained sheets and decided to sleep on the floor.

He was wrong earlier, he knew. So very wrong. He was so dirty now; of course his friends would know what had happened. The moment he opened his mouth everything would just come spilling out to Hermione, and she would be horrified and pity him. The second Ron looked at him, he’d know. He’d see how filthy Harry was, how disgusting, and weak and vile Harry was, and he’d be sick at the sight. And then Ron would hate him.

Harry trembled and tried to get to sleep. He shivered with the cold, in only his t-shirt, but his arse hurt too much for him to try and put more trousers on, and he refused to touch that blanket.

He determined not to speak to anyone, no one could know. The longer he could keep quiet, the better chance he had of not spilling his guts to Hermione at the first chance. With that in mind, Harry slept. And when he woke up, his first words were “do it again, and I will tell,” to Vernon Dursley who trembled and kept far away from his nephew after that.

XXX

Wiltshire was a nice enough place to live. It was tranquil and scenic, with lots of places to play as a child, and hunt as an adult. Draco Malfoy, though, was bored stiff. His Mother had disappeared to the Ministry for some reason or another and his Father was visiting an old friend, Severus Snape. Snape was Draco’s Godfather and he taught at Hogwarts, where Draco went to school. He figured his Father was at the school then, since he’d never heard of Snape living anywhere else. Draco supposed he must have a house of his own, and just didn’t like it. But whatever the reason, he was devoid of amusement as his home was empty.

With a sigh, he considered writing a letter to someone he rather wanted to get to know. But he knew it wouldn’t even be read if they knew it was from him. Maybe he could write it anonymously?

With a grin, he walked towards his desk and grabbed a clean sheet of parchment and a quill. He dipped his quill in ink and wrote.

Dear Harry Potter,

No I am not an annoying fan girl, nor will I turn into a stalker. I actually go to school with you. But we aren’t friends, so excuse me if I do not give you my real name. Oh and no, this isn’t a trick, or a plot to avenge Lord Voldemort, either.

Anyway, I thought this would be a great idea, and now that I have started I’m not quite sure what to write. I could start about myself I suppose?

My mother is out at the moment and my father is visiting a friend, so I’m alone and bored. My father is rich, but he got into some trouble a while back, but it’s all sorted out now. My mother is very beautiful, but I can’t remember if you’ve ever met her or not. Well, I know about your family, but what about those Muggles you live with? What are they like? I don’t particularly like Muggles all that much, myself, but I suppose it’s a matter of opinion. What’s yours?

Oh, my father is home, I suppose I better go.

I hope you write back to me, but I understand if you don’t. Oh, I bet you can’t guess who I am? I’m not a Gryffindor, and I’m in NEWT year, but I won’t tell you whether it’s sixth or seventh. That would make it too easy.

Your Secret Friend – I hope.

“Hello Draco,” Lucius said from behind him. The younger blond smiled at his father and watched as the man untied the ribbon that held his long hair back from his face. “What are you doing?”

“Writing a letter to Harry Potter. If he can guess who I am, we’re going to be friends.” Lucius Malfoy merely rolled his eyes. He had long ago gotten used to his son waxing poetic about Potter. It wasn’t hard to guess that Draco had just been jealous because Potter wouldn’t be his friend. Now that Draco was older, Lucius suspected there were more than just friendly feelings present.

“Why are you home so soon?”

“Severus was called to a staff meeting. The old man gets loonier every day. Last week, Severus said he was summoned along with all the other staff just so the Headmaster could remind them that there would be first years that year.” Lucius sneered. “There are always first years!”

Draco snorted, slightly amused, and rolled up the parchment before handing it to the large eagle owl that was perched in the box seat on his window. “Take this to Harry Potter. I’m sorry, Eros, I don’t know his address.” Eros nipped at Draco’s finger before it’s beak clutched the letter and he swept off the box seat and out of the open window.

“Do you think he will write back?”

Draco smiled sadly, “no, I don’t. But I hope so.”

XXX

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore smiled genially at the gathered staff members. “Hello all, today I have very important news. Considering the hatred of Muggles that surrounds us in the aftermath of Voldemort’s downfall, I thought it would be prudent if Muggle Studies was made mandatory. We Wizards hate which we do not know, so if we know Muggles, we will be less likely to attack them.”

There was a small applause as some people began to nod and agree.

“Also, there is a man I know, Mr. Hayward, who himself has magical parents but is a Squib. He lives and teaches in the Muggle world. My proposal is that, rather than teach our students about Muggles in a classroom, we send them to a Muggle school to learn about these people, themselves.”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Minerva McGonagall said.

Podmona Sprout clapped her hands and nodded happily.

Severus Snape sneered unpleasantly. “Severus, you will be accompanying the seventh year students. I have already arranged everything with Mr. Hayward. I have taken the liberty of renting a block of apartments. As there will be no one living there but us, the students are free to perform magic as long as you, Severus, are present. They will be living in groups, mixed houses. They will be informed, as will yourselves, at the Welcoming Feast.”

Severus didn’t complain, but he did make a mental note to ask Draco whom he would like to live with for however many months this scheme of the Headmaster’s lasted.

“You may all go.” Albus smiled and stood, holding the door open as all the other teachers filed past. “My poor Harry,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry, but it was the only school available.”

When Severus arrived at Malfoy Manor, in Wiltshire, he immediately asked whom the blond would like to room with.

“Harry Potter if possible.” Severus’ eyebrows hit his hairline, but he didn’t make a sound. Instead he promised to inform the Headmaster and left in search of Lucius.

XXX

Harry woke up trembling. He had the awful feeling something was wrong. He was cold and sore, and he felt wrong. Like something unpleasant had happened to him, because of him, or something unpleasant had been watching him sleep.

He successfully blocked out the memories of last night as he stiffly redressed and headed downstairs. His heart almost beat out of his chest as he caught sight of Vernon. His uncle sneered unpleasantly at him and stabbed his toast with a knife. Harry made a sound, deep in his throat, which sounded like a growl.

“Do it again, and I will tell,” he threatened before grabbing a piece of bread and leaving the room. He made it to his bedroom before he fell to the floor and curled into a shaking ball. He sobbed and tried so hard to forget, but he couldn’t forget how dirty he was. Vernon was still on his; Harry could feel him, smell him, he felt like he was being pinned to the mattress again. His wrists throbbed as if they were still tied up, and unable to hold it back, Harry screamed!

He screamed and screamed, and cried, until his voice was hoarse and his eyes refused to water anymore. And no one dared disturb him. Minutes later he felt, rather than heard, something flutter to the ground beside him. When he looked up, his eyes were red rimmed and puffy. He ran his hands over his eyes and sniffled, before picking up the letter off the ground.

The eagle owl stared balefully at him as he read and when he was finished, he gave a hysterical giggle. “My friends won’t write to me, but a stranger will?” He turned to face the owl and frowned, “I’ll write back later ok? I’ll use my own owl.” The eagle owl tilted its head to one side and took off out of the bedroom door. Harry’s mouth dropped open. The bird had flown through the house?

Just as he thought that Vernon came running into his room, “what the bloody hell do you think you are playing at, freak?” He roared and Harry flinched back. His fist shot out, and connected with Harry’s jaw. With a gasp, Harry fell back. He lay stunned on the floor as Vernon muttered something about a punishment. When he felt his uncle’s weight on his thighs, for the second time in so many hours, he panicked. He was already so dirty; he couldn’t be filthy again so soon.

As before when he was angry or scared, he released a burst of accidental magic, which flung Vernon Dursley clear across the room and out through the still open door. As Harry was so scared, it also set off the Wards.

Harry lay trembling for ten minutes until he felt something poke him in the side. He screamed and jumped up, curling into a ball to protect himself from attack.

“Relax ‘Arry, it’s only me,” came a voice very familiar to Harry. The brunette looked up and smiled at Hagrid. The giants pink umbrella was still outstretched. “I weren’t sure if ya was awake, or not.” He shrugged apologetically. “Come on, ‘e’ll ‘ave to take tha bus.”

“Can we go to The Leaky Cauldron?” Hagrid shook his head. “Please?”

“You’re ‘urt, ‘Arry. Madame Pomfrey will ‘ave ta look at ya.” Hagrid took Harry by the arm and led him from the room and down the stairs.

“I’m not. Not really.” He lied. “Honest, I just feel playing around.” Hagrid looked at him dubiously. “Obliviate!” He shouted, instantly feeling guilty. “I fell playing around. You’re meant to take me to The Leaky Cauldron.”

“’lright, ‘Arry. Off we go, then.” Hagrid stuck out his wand arm, when they arrived on the street. A large purple bus came speeding towards them. Harry instinctively took a step backwards. They stepped on board, after paying. When they arrived at the Wizarding Pub, Harry waved goodbye to Hagrid and ran for the barman.

“Thom, can I have a room?” Thom opened his mouth. “Don’t say my name!” Harry hissed. Thom dutifully handed over a key, and Harry ran from the room, trying not to let his bruises be seen by anyone. If he could hide out here until he healed, he would be fine. No one would have to know how weak he was. He could hide the – rape – he could convince himself it never happened. And if he believed that, everyone else would as well. He just had to heal himself. Before Dumbledore came looking for him; assuming the man cared anymore.

With that in mind, he threw himself down on the rented bed and closed his eyes, determining to sleep for a while. He woke the next morning, more tired than he had been before he went to sleep. He couldn’t remember what he dreamt about but he knew it had been bad. He could remember hands, all over his body, and the sickening feeling of being torn in two. He shuddered and climbed out of the bed.

He stepped into the shower, adjusting the water until it was a hot as it could go. He stayed there for half an hour, rubbing himself raw all over, except for his arse. He tried to pretend that if he didn’t clean off the blood and come himself, then those substances weren’t even there. Nothing had happened. He did spread his cheeks open, and hold them like that while the water poured over the abused hole; but he didn’t touch himself.

His skin was red and sore looking when he finally dried himself off. He dressed quickly and left the Leaky Cauldron. He needed to go shopping for some potions, he decided. First, he headed to Thom and asked him if he could open the barrier between the Muggle and the Wizarding Worlds.

“You’re seventeen now, you can do it all on your own,” Thom said with a bright smile, as though waving your wand at a brick wall was a stunning achievement. Harry swallowed heavily.

“I forgot.” He muttered as he slowly made his way outside. He faced the wall, and after taping certain bricks, it opened wide to let him pass. He struggled to fight down the bile rising in his throat. He was seventeen, he could do magic. His uncle had raped him, and he could have used magic to stop him? He had forgotten. Harry let out a small, low sob, low enough for it not to have been heard by anyone else in Diagon Alley. He figured that the question was settled. If he could forget he could do magic, he could forget that his uncle had done That to him as well.

He headed towards Gringotts first, then to the Apocrathy. When he was stocked up on various healing potions and salves, he decided to treat himself. He hadn’t got a schoolbook list yet, so he figured someone from the order had picked up his supplies for him. Really, they hadn’t, he should have gotten a revised list informing him to bring Muggle clothing and supplies for the start of the year, instead. But he didn’t have that either.

As he was walking into Quality Quidditch Supplies he frowned as he heard a voice he recognized. Ronald Weasley walked passed him, without noticing him, with Hermione Granger at his side. “It’s a shame Harry couldn’t come.”

Hermione frowned, “I told you Ron, Dumbledore said he’s safe. And anyway, Harry hasn’t written back to us all summer. He obviously needed some time alone.”

“What if he didn’t get the letters? It happened before.”

“Are you insinuating the Dobby is stealing Harry’s letters again?” Hermione asked incredulously.

”Dumbledore might be!” Hermione gasped. “Hear me out, ok? He really wanted Harry at the Dursley’s this summer. And I know he said he was planning something at Hogwarts and couldn’t afford students around, but why couldn’t Harry stay with us?”

“Headmaster Dumbledore is looking out for Harry. And surely, it can’t be that bad.”

“Want to bet?” Ron muttered and walked on quicker, signalling the end to the conversation. Hermione rolled her eyes, telling herself that Harry was fine and safe, and sped up to catch up with Ron.

Harry frowned; someone was taking his letters? With a sigh, he carried on walking, pausing in front of a sign claiming that “the Sandstorm is even faster than the Firebolt!”. He smiled sadly, remembering his own Firebolt, and the man who bought it for him. Sirius had died two years ago, and Harry still missed him as much as ever. He picked up a leaflet from the shelf beside the sign and made his way to the counter.

He nodded at the clerk, and handed over the leaflet. “A sandstorm?” The sales attendant asked incredulously. “Are you sure? They are very expensive.” He put the leaflet on the counter and pushed it back towards Harry. Harry nodded and pushed the leaflet across the counter. “Ok, that’s 5280 Galleons then please?” Harry handed the clerk a cheque book, which automatically wrote itself the minute the clerk touched it. “Thank you sir, here is your Sandstorm.” Harry took the broom with a smile, and not bothering to shrink it, nodded goodbye and walked away from the counter.

Standing behind him was Draco Malfoy and his father Lucius. “Father, I insist! See, that boy has one, why can’t I? There is no way you can allow some plebeian to show us up!” Draco sneered in Harry’s direction, not recognizing him yet. Harry hadn’t even noticed Draco yet.

He did recognize the voice briefly, and only looked up from the floor in time to stop himself knocking the blond over. “Sorry,” he muttered and tried to edge around Draco.

“Hello Potter,” Draco said, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

Harry flinched when Draco held a hand out. “Sorry,” he muttered and almost ran from the shop. Draco and Lucius exchanged confused glances. Even though Harry had refused his hand – and letter – again, Draco was determined to try again.

“So, father, can I have a Sandstorm? Harry has one!” He whined.

Harry ran the whole way back to the Leaky Cauldron, and straight up to his room. He was trembling by the time he threw himself onto the bed. He couldn’t get the image of Draco out of his mind. The blond was gorgeous. His hair was longer than at the end of last year, and it hung over one side of his face, in a side fringe, the end just brushing his lip. His eyes had seemed to look right into Harry’s soul, and he was so scared Draco could see how dirty he was.

He closed his eyes, but all he could see was Draco. Draco touching him and kissing him. He had to bite his lip to stop himself screaming, when Draco’s face morphed into Vernon’s. He shouldn’t be thinking about anyone like that. He was dirty now, ruined, he didn’t deserve anyone. And Draco wouldn’t want him anyway. He had to shower again, he decided. In the shower, he briefly attempted to touch himself while thinking about Draco, but again, he suddenly saw Vernon Dursley: touching him, hurting him, raping him— no that didn’t happen! It didn’t! He was supposed to forget about that!

He needed to forget.

He staggered out of the bathroom, still wet and threw himself, naked, onto the bed. With a sob, he fell into a restless sleep. Waking to find his face wet with tears.

When he had wiped the wetness from his cheeks, he finally penned a reply to his Secret Friend. The way Harry figured it was that even if it was a plot to extract revenge on him for beating Voldemort, at least they had taken the time to write to him over the summer. Unlike certain friends of his, who blindly listened to Dumbledore.

XXX

The last month of the summer passed by quickly, and before Harry knew it he was aboard the Hogwarts Express. He had been both parts relieved and disappointed when no one came to the Leaky Cauldron to find out why he hadn’t gone onto Hogwarts with Hagrid. But since it meant he had a month to perfect his responses to the usual questions he was asked, he didn’t mind so much.

He made sure to avoid everyone he knew on the train; instead he shared a compartment with Blaise Zabini. He was a Slytherin, but he stuck to himself, and was nice enough to Harry.

When he sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, no body really noticed him because he didn’t walk in with Ron and Hermione. Instead, those two came in seconds later looking very worried. They quickly spotted him and ran to his side. Harry was rather proud of himself. When Hermione hugged him, he didn’t even flinch. In his mind though, he could feel hands all over him once again, and he cursed Hermione for making him remember when he was so close to forgetting.

“Hey Harry.” Hermione whispered, out of breath. “We were so worried.”

“How you been mate?” Ron added.

“The sorting has started Ron,” Harry said and looked away from them.

The red headed teenager shot his girlfriend a worried look, but didn’t say anything else to Harry. When the sorting has finished, Dumbledore stood up and smiled genially at the crowd. “In recognition of the atrocities committed by Lord Voldemort against Muggles and Muggleborns, I am making Muggle Studies mandatory for all years. As the Seventh Years currently house Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort, as well as the students who were more than others affected by Voldemort’s reign of terror, I felt they deserved a special treat.

“As of tomorrow, all seventh years will be staying in rented apartments under the supervision of Professor Snape for five months. While Professor Snape is within the apartment building, you are free to use magic in the Muggle world. At other times, you will be expected to live like a Muggle. The rooms will be split between threes and fours, and members will be mixed from the different houses.

“As there is only one teacher currently teaching seventh years who knows about magic, we are restricted to one school. So I advise the current seventh years to behave, or next years seventh years will have to forfeit their turn. Mr Hayward is a Squib, born to Magical parents, and is very happy to help us in this great adventure. I hope you treat him well.” Dumbledore looked over at the Slytherins, who sneered at the thought of living in the Muggle world.

“First I will tell you your groups. I hope that you all behave. If I hear anything back from Professor Snape about bullying or the exclusion of a member of your new dorm I will be severely displeased. A percentage of your NEWT grade rests on this project, so take it seriously. Now, the groups…” He began to ramble on and on, and Harry didn’t bother listening until his name was mentions. “Harry Potter, Gryffindor. Blaise Zabini, Slytherin. And because we have an odd number, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin.”

Harry’s head snapped up and his eyes met Draco’s first across the hall. The blond smiled at him, but Harry flinched away again. He didn’t think he could bear to share a living space with Draco for five months. Not when he was having wet dreams about the blond, which almost certainly turned into nightmare memories of his rape. But at least it wouldn’t be too bad with Blaise, he figured. The Italian had been nice enough to him on the Hogwarts Express. Harry nodded at Zabini, and turned to half listen as Dumbledore continued to talk.

“Now, four students have volunteered to help you all settle in. Mr Hayward will explain more about the project when you meet him. All I will say is, I am very pleased to announce that the current Seventh Years of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will spend the next five months at the Muggle school, Smeltings.”

Everyone in the Hall burst into applause except Harry. Harry could barely keep himself from bolting from his seat and leaving Hogwarts. If he could floo to the Leaky Cauldron, he could hide out there for five months. He could come back later, and finish the year then maybe.

“Marie Rosemary, Hannah Nanny, Piers Polkiss and Dudley Dursley were pleased to volunteer their services and help you all grow accustomed to Smeltings School.” Harry swallowed. It felt like he was breathing in sandbags with every mouthful of air. He was choking; he couldn’t breath. The room was suddenly too hot. Far, far too hot. Five months living with Draco. Five months at the same school as Dudley. Five long months with Dudley as his ‘helper’… Dudley who was so close to his father, Vernon. Harry sobbed.

With a choked scream, he jumped off the bench and sped from the room. Everyone in the Hall watched in shock, but no one made any move to stop him. With a light grin, although his eyes swam with worry, Draco turned to Theodore Nott and hissed, loud enough for the rest of the Hall to hear, “Potter seems excited. I bet he can’t wait to visit his filthy Muggle family.” He sneered in Hermione’s direction.

XXX

Snape found Harry the next morning, trying to get through the tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack. He snarled at the brunette as he dragged him back to the castle and ordered him to gather his things. Snape sat next to him in the carriages to Hogsmeade Station and practically threw the boy onto the Hogwarts Express.

“You are going, Potter,” he snarled. “Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you can get out of things you don’t like, boy.” Harry flinched at the word, and subserviently found himself an empty carriage and settled down for the dreaded ride and journey ahead.

Five bloody, horrendous and long months ahead of him to go.

XXX

Ok. A while ago, Eirecom (my internet provider) made a really big mistake with my connection and charged me an extra 200+ euro. Even though their technician admits it’s their fault, the billing department still insists my mum should pay. And she refuses. So, she’ll ring them tomorrow and see what’s going on, but they are threatening to cut off my Internet. If they do, I won’t be updating, and I thought I should let you know.

If they don’t, you’ll know. I’ll try and get another chapter of this, and Wolf up as soon as possible. Two weeks till my exams…. Scary!