Attack

Harry was making dinner. He thought that this single act of normality would help to get his head in order; he had hoped that the familiar movements of chopping and slicing would give his mind time to think some things through. When he says some things, he means one thing. One thing being Dean. Dean who had protected him, held him, kissed him, made love to-

Harry stopped that train of thought from going any further. Even though Dean had asked him to go back to America with them and had promised that he would always be protected, he couldn't allow that old fairytale idea take over him. That idea of the handsome Prince Charming coming to rescue the pitiful Damsel in distress from the clutches of the evil wizard. Mainly because he was no damsel in distress and for another Dean was hardly a Prince Charming, but he was attractive and he could do things with his tongue that-

Nope. Not thinking about Deans talented lips, hands...He rested his head against the glass window of the cupboard in front of him in a fruitless attempt to prevent the headache from manifesting, even though he was already beginning to feel the slight pulsing at his temple. Yet he was still nowhere near figuring out his feelings for his boyfriend. Harry loved him. He really did or else he wouldn't have stayed so long and after each time he got...angry...He would hold Harry and love him and tell him that it would never happen again.

He couldn't help but wonder if that was what Dean meant by 'he wasn't going to stop' because so far Harry had received countless promises of no more violence and no more drinking but they never seemed to be followed through. Harry's fist tightened around the large knife and in frustration he raised it slowly, bringing it down onto the wooden board in a sharp stabbing motion. The tip of the blade was embedded in the wood. Harry looked down at it in wonder while letting go of the blade to see if it would stay up. It did. Anchored in place by the weight of the board and the perfect balance of the blade.

Maybe this knife was exactly like his relationship. He had strong enough feelings to anchor himself in one place while being unwilling to move like the knife. Yet his relationship was held in the balance of love and anger, Harry reasoned with himself that one more act of either then the blade would fall. It just depended on which side it fell on. Harry took the handle in his hand and pulled the blade free from the solid wooden chopping board. Or maybe his decision will be based on Dean. So maybe with his knife Dean could be gravity...pushing on all sides of him trying to get him to move and fall free of the anchor.

Or maybe he was looking into this way too much and the knife is just a knife in a chopping board.

Harry's thought process trailed off as the front door to the flat was thrown open, the force of it caused the handle to rebound off the wall, probably marking the white wallpaper, before finally being slammed shut. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, collecting himself before the kitchen door could also be thrown open and his one moment of peace and privacy interrupted. As expected the door was opened, with no less force then the previous one, allowing a broad figure to enter the room. He dropped his Quidditch bag on to the tiled floor and splashed mud everywhere. To be completely honest, Harry had no idea how a bag could become so muddy and it wasn't like it was from any part of his uniform that was seeping through the material because they never even touch the ground, especially not when it's been raining. For a sports team Harry had to admit they were pretty prissy about their appearance.

"What? No, hi honey how was work? Go put your feet up?" He asked as a slight shadow crossed his face when he realised that Harry had no intention of greeting him like a proper boyfriend should.

"Sorry, why don't you go sit down. I'm just making dinner." Harry said as he picked up the bag and placed it in front of the washer so he could wash them while the veg was boiling.

"I'll just sit in here. No kiss?" He asked, grabbing Harry's wrist and dragging him closer with as much force as he would use on a bludger.

"Yeah, course." Harry leaned up, tilting his head back. He had been so indulged with Deans soft lips and spine tingling kisses that he had almost forgot what his usual kisses felt like. With a tongue forced through his lips and his breathing cut off until he was seeing black spots, a forceful hand on the back of his neck demanding him closer and one on his lower back so he couldn't pull away. Teeth were nibbling at the sides of his mouth slightly harshly than normal and Harry could tell that he was pissed.

It wasn't what a kiss was supposed to feel like, Harry finally realised. Before Dean he had only ever been kissed by one person and said person was now trying to initiate some kind of sexual fondling in the middle of Harry's kitchen. This wasn't a proper kiss at all. Dean's kisses were gentle and not harsh, giving and not taking, they made him feel special and maybe even loved. Harry couldn't take it, he pulled away from those demanding hands which had now reached his arse and were roughly kneading the muscles there. It was slightly painful, as he was still recovering from the after effects of his one night with Dean, even if it had been a few nights ago. Harry would never admit this to Dean's face but he was definitely larger than the average male.

"Baby, we were only just getting started." He tried to pull Harry back but the Gryffindor stepped out of the way.

"I-I have to finish dinner and you'll need your kit for tomorrow."

"Dinner can wait and my kit can be scourgified." Hands were on Harry's wrists pulling him forward.

"You know I prefer to wash things, and I know how hungry you get so it's better if we eat earlier rather than later."

"Come on Harry! You've been pushing me away for the last few days. What is with you?"

"I just don't feel up to it at the moment." Harry admitted while wincing at what his reaction was going to be. He was probably jumping to conclusions right now, maybe even-

"You're sleeping with someone else." It was a low, quiet statement. Harry held his breath, he had heard of the calm before the storm.

"No, no of course I haven't." Harry lied, trying to get him to back off long enough to calm down.

"Yes you are." The short sentence erupted from his mouth in a low growl that seemed like it was coming from an animal rather than a human. Harry backed against the worktop as he took a step towards the Gryffindor, who wasn't feeling very Gryffindor like at this moment in time.

"No." Harry's responses seemed weak even to his own ears. Weak and pitiful.

"Don't lie to me Harry. You know I don't like being lied to."

"I-I'm not lying."

Weak.

"Harry!" The growl grew stronger as his anger rose.

"I promise."

Pitiful.

He was a goddamn Gryffindor. He had defeated Voldemort more than once, more than twice if you counted his school years. He was powerful. He was an Auror. So why the hell couldn't he stand up for himself? He had enough power to knock his supposed 'boyfriend' off his feet with a simple flick of his wand. Harry dropped the knife as he was forced to lean further backwards away from the angry Beater who was coming towards him.

"You're a Goddamn liar Harry."

"Shut up." Harry spat out. He had done it! He had stood up for himself! Finally said something against-

"What did you just say?" Was the yell that interrupted Harry's internal congratulations.

"I said, shut up." The Gryffindor repeated it in a calm and collected voice that betrayed none of his internal fighting. One half was having a party at his newly found courage; the other was stood wide-eyed in shock thinking ... 'Oh shit'.

"Shut up?"

"Yeah. Shut up. I've had enough of you. I've had enough of your drinking, your beating and your sleeping around - oh yeah I know about all the girls and guys you've been with. Did you think I was an idiot?"

"You can't break up with me." The growl had almost disappeared but his face had changed from an angry red to one of embarrassment. He had obviously never been the dumpee before but Harry couldn't care less. He may be in love with the man but he couldn't live like this any longer.

"I can and I am. I'm Harry Potter, I'm the saviour. Do you know what will happen to you if it ever gets out what you've been doing to me?"

"I've never done anything you haven't deserved, you're a selfish bastard."

"I'm Selfish!" Harry questioned and explained at the same time, "Everything I've done for this relationship has been for you. The only thing I've done without thinking of you is sleeping with-"

"So did cheat!"

"Yes. I slept with someone else. He was brilliant! He showed me what I've been missing, and trust me, it's nothing you could give."

"You selfish little shit!" He lunged.

There was nowhere for Harry to go, he was already fully pressed against the worktop and moving to either side would probably get him in an even worse position. Large hands grabbed his smaller body and threw him down onto the floor, the movement caused Harry's arm to sweep against the chopping board, dragging everything down with him. Harry made to catch himself with his arms to prevent his head from cracking against the hard floor but his palms slid on the dirty floor, sending him crashing face first into black and white tiles. Harry turned awkwardly to look up at the dark shadow looming over him.

Harry was once against powerless and helpless. He hadn't counted on how inferior his physical strength was in comparison even though it should have been the first thing he had thought of. Constant Vigilance. What would Moody say?

Harry tried to propel himself backwards as the menacing figure took a step forward and leaned over the Gryffindor with a downright scary grin stretching across his lips. This is point where Harry wished he had thought to carry his wand around everywhere; it was currently sitting on the bedside cabinet where he had left it the previous night before going to bed.

"You think I can't give you what you need?" A single hand reached down and ripped open the front of Harry's shirt, scattering buttons across the kitchen floor. All Harry could do is whimper as he felt the shirt fall open with encouragement from the hands that had ripped it open.

"Don't." Harry cried as cold fingers touched his skin, "Please don't."

"I'm giving you what you want Harry. That's what you asked for right?" Harry shook his head and closed his eyes, wishing he was somewhere far away from this place and this man. Tears fell from his eyes as he heard the unmistakable sound of a belt being opened and jeans being unzipped.

"Look at me!" He exclaimed as he took Harry's wrists in a bruising grip to pry them away from his face, "Look at what you're making me do."

"I haven't made you do anything! Let me go! Please let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone. Please...Please."

"Now Harry, why would I do that? How can I be sure that you'd keep your promise?"

"I will. You know I will."

"Nah. I think I like it this way more." Harry turned his head to the side as he felt the familiar weight of a person straddling his waist; he assumed it was to keep him in place. He felt the tears make their way down his face and land on the tiled floor; he didn't want to give his future rapist the pleasure of seeing him cry.

It was as Harry's belt was being forcibly removed when he noticed it. An innocent looking kitchen knife, laying amongst the mess of vegetables that Harry had knocked to the floor. He reached out for it. Slowly. His fingers creeping along the floor. It was a good job his hands had been released, Harry thought as his fingers closed over the black handle. He needed the right moment, the exact second that would give him the upper hand.

Hands tugged his button open impatiently.

One.

A head bent down to see what his hands were doing.

Two.

A huff of impatience.

Three...

Harry's hand shot forward, the knife handle clutched tightly in his fingers as the stainless steel blade embedded into his attackers upper arm.
A scream of pain followed by knuckles meeting Harry's face, splitting the skin and causing blood to trail down his temple. Harry's eyes fluttered closed for a second because of the pain thumping through his head. He was so wrapped up in the sudden flare of pain that he wasn't paying attention to what his would-be rapist was doing. This is also why he didn't notice the knife coming down towards his leg until it hit.

Harry thanked his job and his school years for the danger that he put himself in over and over again which had caused almost his entire upper leg to be numbed years ago. He could feel the pain but if his nerves had been completely intact the pain would have been worse. Much worse. Harry kicked out with his one good leg and, somehow, managed to catch the bloody arm which was reaching out to him. Another scream echoed throughout the flat. The distraction was enough for Harry to stand up and rush to his room, while limping, and grab his forgotten wand while his leg throbbed and bled all over the carpets.

One moment of calm. One deep breath. He disapparated.

The one thought in his mind?

Dean.

A/N - Wow! I never expected such a positive response to any of my stories before! I'm so glad you guys liked it! So just because you all seemed to enjoy it so much I thought I'd give you more. I hope you like this one as much.

Thanks for reading and reviewing I really appreciate it :D

x E.V.S x