Secrets (A Harry Potter Fanfiction)

Chapter 1

The worst thing of Harry Potter's life was being gay. He'd wish that he was just going through a phase. At fourteen years old, that seemed to be the thing, right? Going through phases to play out what you are going to be like all through your adult life. What your interest, hobbies, friends, or career will be. But in this case, it wasn't that simple. Ever since his third year ended, Harry had been having out of place, and slightly erotic dreams about his friend and fellow Gryffindor, Dean Thomas. But at first, Harry played it off as him just missing the school, but when it kept happening with different people in his life, Harry knew that he was in some big trouble.

In the beginning of July, only a few weeks left of summer, he sent Hedwig to deliver a message to Hermione asking about these things. She had taken a little longer than normal, most likely using the literary resources she so often liked to resort to, to try and figure out Harry's predicament.

It wasn't until another week rolled by, that Harry finally got a reply, but he was too afraid to open it, weary of the truths that surely lay inside. And the beatings were getting stronger. For some reason, Vernon Dursley enjoyed the pain of young Harry. But, Harry knew deep down that he deserved all of it. He had gotten into the routine of wake up, get lashed by the belt, make breakfast, eat the scraps, get beaten again, make lunch, get a break from a beating, then make dinner, getting beaten again. He knew that this was because Vernon was afraid of him and his magic.

During the middle of the next week, Harry finally opened the reply from Hermione as he sat at the kitchen table. Leaning forward in his chair slightly, Harry was trying to avoid staining the kitchen chair in his blood, the same blood that was spilt mere minutes ago by none other, than his uncle.

Harry was not allowed to be up in his room alone, not after the miraculous escape in his second year. Unless he was going to sleep. Then, he would be woken up every morning at precisely four a.m. sharp when his Uncle Vernon needed to get up to head to his job. From then until the time he was sent to bed, Harry would either spend his time sitting at the kitchen table, making supervised meals, or being taken to the cupboard under the stairs for his beatings.

Harry actually wasn't sure what made the beatings start randomly after eleven years. Though, he had many theories, there was one that made the most amount of sense. Vernon was punishing him for leaving with Hagrid to Hogwarts, and leaving them stranded on an island, in a dark, saltwater-stained shack.

But, when he walked behind Harry, while the poor boy was reading the mail he had received from one of his closest friends, he happened to look over his nephew's shoulder for the first word his eyes locked onto the one word that probably ruined Harry's life forever.

'Gay'

From that moment on, Harry received more and more beatings. It was as if his uncle wanted everyone a school to know what kind of monstrosity his nephew actually was. Harry, being of a mere age of fourteen, knew that being a homosexual was extremely frowned upon in the Muggle world. Although he didn't know why. And that innocence was one of the worst things about being a child.

But for all the crap he has been forced to endure, and his seemingly annual meetings with Voldemort, it seemed as if mother nature was just being cruel.

Today was a gloom, rainy day in Surrey and in the house of Number four, Privet Drive, a chain of events is about to happen that will change the life of each and every person who lives there. And then some.

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Harry knew that he deserved this. Agony, humiliation, lassitude, and the feeling of being sempiternally violated. Yes, he was just raped by his uncle and the neighbor down the street, one of Vernon's life-long friends. He was laying, naked in the middle of the bedroom covered in large amounts of his own blood, sweat, saliva, tears, and other bodily fluids that were not necessarily his own.