He was used to it, the whispers. He was used to the stares and the gapes, and let's not even mention the marriage proposals that he gets. On a daily basis. He was used to the fact that his private life would never be just that. If he were to grow a horn on his forehead, the world would know, if he shat rainbows and pissed glitter, the world would know. That was just his fate, his kinda luck. He hated it, but he was used to it. Every day there would be a new rumor, and so, new whispers. He had learned to tune them out, but every man has a breaking point, and that's what made men dangerous. If you have nothing to live for, what have you got to lose?
Harry entered the great hall to enjoy a breakfast of epic proportions, because he had been up since four am that morning, running and exercising. His usual routine. Harry liked routine now, because up until this point, his life had been laid out for him, and it had been done by others. Others who didn't actually 'know' the savior. Like how he had to have a scar on his forehead. How he had to be raised like a pig for slaughter, walk into the forbidden forest to his death, just to save those who had ridiculed him, but also those who worshipped him. He hated every damn moment of it.
And because of the stupid rumors, he made a promise to himself to never read the Daily Prophet. He had friends who loved the gossip and the actual news with facts, if there was any, but he was not one of them. Best leave that to people like Hermoine. And he knew she kept up to date with the news, just so that she could curb the rumors and placate Harry, and even prepare him on what to expect. But nothing, absolutely nothing could prepare him for what he was about to see.
Earlier in the week, it had been reported that he had gone to France and was purchasing a house with his lover, a young lady called Isabelle, and there were photos to prove it, only to be retracted the next day, stating that she was his estate agent, and he had gone to view a house that his mother had left to him in his second inheritance. After that, there was a rumor of him owning a huge cattle ranch in Texas in a place called the USA, only to find out that he went travelling for a while, and had worked on the ranch, because he didn't want to sit still, before his return to Hogwarts. And then if that wasn't enough, there was a rumor that he was going to get married, because lo and behold, he had attended a Ministry function with a lady friend, and when she had dropped something, he got down on one knee to help her find it. The media thought he was proposing, and everyone was in a frenzy. So, if it hasn't been mentioned before, he fucking hated it.
A Ravenclaw student in sixth year stood up and asked him in a rush "Is it true Harry? What the papers are saying".
"Is what true?", he asked back. The whole hall had gone silent, and everyone's eyes were focused on him. Now Harry was still the shy humble man that he had always been, but there were changes. Because of his daily routine, he had a growth spurt that left people speechless. He had biceps, his skin was tanned, he had tattoos on his arms and most of his chest, he wore an earring in his left ear, and his glasses had been replaced with extensive optic nerve surgery to repair the damage to his eyes, done by the first killing curse. He oozed sex appeal, because if his features weren't enough, his voice was gravelly, husky, and dripping with sex every time he opened his fucking mouth.
He was wearing a very tight pair of shorts, with a white T Shirt that defined every one of his chest muscles. His pectorals, his abs, his V line, his shoulders, every damn thing. And the shorts. Well the shorts defined his manhood. Loud and proud, and Harry was oblivious.
"Is there a god that hasn't blessed you yet?", shouted another Ravenclaw student, this time a male. Harry gulped and turned to look at the young male. He couldn't remember his name, and frowned, asking what the hell are you talking about? The male student replied that he should take a look at the paper.
