Prologue

Harry James Potter, a ten year old boy that was an orphan and who lived with his wizard-hating relatives, sat alone in his cupboard staring emotionlessly at the ceiling above him. He never minded the small cobwebs, or the small spiders that decided to take residence in his small bedroom. Harry liked the company and would sometimes whisper secrets to them; he could not be too loud as Uncle Vernon always hated of being reminded that he even had a freak for a nephew. The boy knew sure damn well what would happen to him if he ever so much disturb his 'family'. He learned at a very early age that to survive, he had to keep his mouth shut and do as he was told. Sometimes, though, he would slip up and would then get a beating of his life to remind him why he needed to do as he was told.

Harry was contemplating at this very moment on how to leave this disgusting place that he lived in most of his life and escape to find a better life; if there was a better life. Stomach growling from being refused food for the last two days, encouraged him to go forth with his plans. After several days of countless planning, he had it down to a tee. The plan was flawless, but just in case, he had a back up plan that was as equally flawless. He would wait for 5 minuets before midnight to act out on his plan. The plan would need 5 minuets and after those 5 minuets, he would be 11 years old and he would not spend one more birthday at this horrible place. So, it took a while before the plan could get started as he had a few hours left; his Aunt, Uncle and cousin sat in the family room, right outside the cupboard, watching some game show on the television.

Bored out of his mind, he started to contemplate on what he would if the plan worked. I mean, where would he go? How would he survive? Those questions, though frightened him, never deterred him of his plan; he wasn't going to stop them now. It was at 10:30 pm that his relatives turned off the TV and headed for bed. The pounding foot steps of my Uncle's and Cousin's feet, made me cringe. The black haired boy never saw people so large in his life; so disgustingly fat and vile. He cringed harder when he heard his Aunt's, usually shrill voice; speak to his cousin as if the eleven year old was just a mere toddler. What made it sicker was that only 20 minuets later, the sounds of a bed creaking and moans, coming from his Aunt and Uncle's room, filled the house.

Now Harry looked down at the wrist watch he stole from Dudley, which read: 11:54 pm. Everything was on schedule. His Aunt and Uncle had given it a rest and loud snore echoed through the house. Harry snickered; the clueless idiots will never know he left till it was too late. He grabbed the small bag, that he earlier placed many essentials to survive at least two days into, and slowly opened the cupboard door and sneaked out. He carefully went around any creaking floorboards and finally he made it to the front door. He unlocked it quietly and opened it to reveal sweet freedom that Harry had so longed for his whole life. With one deep breath and all the confidence and courage he had, he stepped out and basked in the moons luminescent glow and the rays from the nearby street lamps.

He closed the door behind him and slowly walked down the three steps the led up to the small porch in front of the house that was way too perfect. The neighborhood, Surrey, made you want to gag; it was essentially the perfect place to live. It was your way too perfect suburbia, with identical houses lined up, nothing was out of place or out of order. It was way too perfect for my tastes really; if I get my own place, the first thing I will do is leave an item of clothing on the floor; an empty soda can will lay around in clear sight and many different and vibrant colors will be painted on the walls. The little thought of rebellion made Harry grin; he couldn't wait to rebel, be different yet still liked.

But please don't get Harry wrong, he didn't crave affection as much as you would think of one who was abused and neglected would. In fact, he kind of wanted independence, figuring that his chance of care, love and attention was ruined by the enormous slobs he unfortunately had to slave over. He didn't let that get him down, though, he held his head high and thought of the new experiences he would gain and maybe one day he would find someone to love that loved him back. He started to whistle a happy tune that he heard before on the TV while he was vacuuming, while walking down the empty street to find his future.

7 years later

In a room, many years after Harry left his relatives, moans and gasps were heard. Sex scented the room, and the atmosphere of pleasure would make anyone stumble if they entered the room. Here he was, in bed with a stranger in the middle of the night in his lofty flat, getting pounded repeatedly. His body was hot and sweaty and adrenaline was at an all time high; all because he was bored earlier and he met this man…Bob; maybe that was his name; in a local bar. That was how it was with him; he didn't get too close to anybody; he didn't trust anyone, so one-night-stands were acceptable.

Harry had quickly found out how hard it was to start a life up and get the life you always wanted. He had no money and no job hired children at the age of 11 years old. He had no where to live as he ran away from the only place he knew and he had no friends to help him. So the first 3-4 years were spent on the streets, just pick pocketing; saving half and spending the other half on food and clothes…the essentials. He lived in an abandoned building that was near a library, so he spent so much time reading, learning anything he could. He was sucker for dark, seductive novels that made him shudder.

He remembered the first time he found out he was gay; he was 12 years old and he met this man, in his early 20's. He remembered this weird feeling in his southern regions and the tightness of his pant. There was a strange sensation when the man smiled at him weirdly, and when he was alone with him. The man suddenly kissed him thoroughly, and Harry was too shocked to respond. But soon, he did and wrapped his small arms around the man's neck and moaned wantonly. That day was the day he lost his virginity, the day the man stole his innocence; was it stealing when you let him have it? Since then, he found himself more attracted to older men then the ones his age; he loved being submissive, being dominant crossed his mind but he was never comfortable with the idea. He figured he was just a very submissive person in bed and he accepted it with no ounce of reluctance.

Finding older men to sleep with was surprisingly easy; he found out from many of his past lovers that he looked like a china doll; porcelain and delicate…so, so innocent. The messy, black hair fell in layers on his head; his skin was snow white which enhanced his full pouty-pink lips and wide, emerald orbs. He was always short; the malnourishment from when he was boy never left him. He wasn't deathly skinny that you could see all his ribs; he was slender and had a healthy glow that surrounded him and though he had a hard life on the streets, he bared no scar, except the lightning-bolt shaped one on his forehead.

Not long after he started sleeping with men, the third one he met liked it rough. The man never prepared him and his entrance tore through Harry; pain shooting up his back; burning. That was when he found that he liked the pain, it aroused him and all he did was beg for more. The next day instead of finding bruises and scratches everywhere; they were all gone; not a scar. That was when he learned the existence of magic. Magic came very easy for him after that; he could mend all his torn clothes so that they were new, he could light up a room with a flick of a wrist and he could change his appearance. Nothing was limited to him, he killed a mouse just to see if he could, but nothing turned him on more than finding he could torture one.

He would torture some poor defenseless animal and get turned on, finding the nearest and most available man to let them fuck him. He would some times even whisper to them to hurt him as much as they wanted. Harry never thought about a real relationship, simply because he never thought he would find an older man, who liked younger men, who liked to inflict pain and torture and would be so totally possessive (like the men in those books he read). Harry was independent, yes, but he wanted someone to lean on, to depend on.

So back to where we started, Harry was shuddering underneath the man who was fucking him without any mercy. There was so much pleasure; so much that he screamed as he came hard. He collapsed and waited for his partner to finish up; cum squirted inside him. The red haired man pulled out of him and laid down for a few minuets, before getting up and getting dressed. He flashed Harry a quick smile before leaving.

'Damn, did that feel good,' Harry thought, panting, 'but not good enough,' never was he satisfied.