Dear reader,

The warning about graphic rape is a serious one. This story is not intended for the faint of heart. There is an edited version on Potions and Snitches. The graphic scenes are taken out, but the subject matter remains the same, that is, mature.

The Triwizard Tournament was over. Cedric was dead. And Harry was back at the Dursleys. Another school year accomplished. Another mission complete. And more people dead. Was this how his life was always going to go? Was he always going to be stuck in this hell hole he called home?

Harry had grown up a lot that year, he knew. You didn't watch a person die, and then get tortured in a graveyard by a madman without growing up some. Harry felt that something had happened that year, and there was no going back. It was like there was a new chapter of his life he was opening. The only part was that Harry didn't think it was going to be any better than the previous one.

In addition to simply feeling more grown up, Harry felt, well, old. Not just older, but old. He was tired of being hunted by Voldemort, and he was tired of having to chose between that or the Dursleys. He felt like he no longer belonged in his almost 15 year old body. Which, he was noticing, was quickly falling into disrepair. He wasn't eating like he should, and he wasn't sleeping well either. Ever since the final event, food had tasted like sawdust, and his sleep was littered with nightmares. At best, Harry could wake himself up from them, and at worst, he was trapped in his own personal hell with Cedric and Voldemort.

But Uncle Vernon - he was being different this year. And Harry wasn't sure why. His uncle was being, well, the best word to describe it, Harry decided, was nice. Uncle Vernon had told Aunt Petunia to "stop whining at Harry" at one point when she was upset about the state of her flowers. He hadn't called him "the boy" or "the freak." He'd called him Harry. And when he had missed a spot of fried-on grease when cleaning the kettles, and Aunt Petunia had aimed a frying pan at his head, Uncle Vernon had given his wife a withering look, usually one only used when Harry was being particularly inept, and told her that with actions like that, Harry would surely end up in the hospital with a bashed in skull.

"And would you care to explain that one to the nurses?" he had said.

And finally, when Harry had misread the recipe for supper, ("See, Snape?" he thought. "Potions isn't the only thing I misread directions on!"), and the dinner turned out particularly salty, and at Dudley's suggestion, Aunt Petunia had told him rather forcefully that he was only getting bread and water for supper that night, Uncle Vernon had once again come to his aid.

"Mistakes can happen to anyone, dear," he said. And he'd gotten his supper, much to Aunt Petunia and Dudley's frustration. Harry just wasn't sure what to make of the whole situation. Since when did Uncle Vernon ever help him? It was just too weird for words. And he'd been home a couple of weeks already. Any novelty of having him back and good resolves to treat him better should have worn off by then, Harry thought. It just didn't make sense.

But maybe it had something to do with some other odd things Harry had noticed. It didn't take him two hours to notice that something was wrong between Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. They never spoke to each other without snapping and using subtle (or sometimes not so subtle) insults. Even Dudley tried to keep his piggish head down when Uncle Vernon got home from work. So maybe he was the lucky victim of fate. Maybe Uncle Vernon figured that being nice to him would annoy his wife no end. Well, it was the first time that fate had smiled upon him, he figured. Unless you considered mysteriously surviving a killing curse thrown at you from a madman the effect of fate's smile. Harry personally thought that that incident had been caused by a grimace, because if fate had been kind, Voldemort would never have wanted to hunt him down.

Well, whatever the problem between his aunt and uncle was, it was serious enough that Aunt Petunia didn't want to be under the same roof with Uncle Vernon over the weekend. Come Friday, immediately after supper, every week without fail, she and Dudley would go to the other side of London to visit her cousin for the weekend, not returning till Monday at lunch time. Harry and Uncle Vernon never interacted much, even though Harry was beginning to think that they might be on better terms, and so he usually spent his weekends wandering in the park nearby, doing chores, or trying to find some sign of Voldemort in the Muggle news. Whatever Uncle Vernon did was his own business, Harry figured. They really only exchanged a few words at meals, and those were short and curt. Both seemed happy enough to ignore each other.

Well, at least that was what Harry thought. And Harry was happy enough to ignore Uncle Vernon. But, as Harry was soon to find out, Uncle Vernon was not happy to leave him alone.

The weekend was going pretty normally, with Harry having wandered in the park most of Saturday, coming back to fix meals, and then going to sleep. After showering the next morning, Harry walked down to the local Anglican church, and heard Mass. He'd picked up an interest in it when Remus Lupin had mentioned that his mother and father had been with the Church of England. Harry felt a certain connection to them through it. It was the church he had been baptized into. It was his godfather's church too. And now it was the church he attended. It wasn't like the Dursleys had ever bothered with religious education, though they too claimed to be Anglican. Harry personally thought it was more for show than for belief though.

He came home, and continued on in a normal Sunday routine, changing into a hoodie and jeans, fixing Uncle Vernon's brunch, and when he saw the thunderstorm outside, he spent the day reading in his room. Harry was frustrated with the weather, and with every crash of thunder, his annoyance increased. He wanted to be outside, burning off pent up energy. It made him feel less stressed, what with Voldemort and the Dursleys. Even though they weren't being horrible to him this summer, it was still stressful waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop.

Harry came downstairs and started to take out pans to cook supper. He tried to keep it quiet, but apparently it was still enough that Uncle Vernon heard, and came into the kitchen.

"Sorry," Harry hastily apologized.

"Don't bother with that," Uncle Vernon said with a casual wave of his hand.

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"I'm ordering pizza," Uncle Vernon said, picking up the phone. Harry just blinked.

"Alright," he said after a moment, still not sure what to make of the situation. He finished the call and hung up the phone.

"You really shouldn't have to do all the work around here," Uncle Vernon said. "'All work and no play makes Johnny a dull boy.'"

"Yes, sir." Generally, agreeing with whatever Uncle Vernon said was a wise thing, even if he had no idea what (or more accurately, why) Uncle Vernon was saying this.

"And you won't have any dishes to do after," Uncle Vernon continued, and he pulled out paper plates. Harry just nodded mutely. Yes, it was a small thing, a very small thing, to not have to cook supper, and to not have to do the dishes, but to Harry, coming from his uncle, it was major. His uncle was buying him pizza, and then saving him the problem (small though it was) of dishes. Harry's head was spinning with the thought of it all.

"Why, sir?" Harry finally asked.

"I want you to do some cleaning upstairs," his uncle replied. Ah, so there it was. Well, still, Harry was going to appreciate the pizza. And so the pizza arrived, and they ate in silence. After clearing away the paper plates and plastic silverware to the rubbish bin, Harry grabbed the dust rag, and bounded up the stairs. He certainly didn't mind cleaning a bit after having had as good a meal as that. He began to hum softly as he went into his uncle's bedroom and move the things on the top of the dresser so that he could dust under them.

He was happy. He was actually genuinely happy. And he was at the Dursleys. Harry was just astonished by everything. He couldn't help but feel slightly guilty though that he was happy and Cedric was dead. Well, that ended that momentary burst of happiness, Harry thought glumly. So lost in his own thoughts was he, that Harry didn't even here his uncle come into the room and close and lock the door. Harry turned to dust the headboard, and caught sight of his uncle. Harry jumped in surprise.

"Sorry," Harry said, figuring that he must have done something wrong if his uncle was watching him clean.

"You're doing just fine," Uncle Vernon said, with a small smile creeping onto his features.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said. Uncle Vernon walked over closer to Harry. He stepped so close that Harry started to retreat, until he was in the corner. The way his uncle was looking at him - it just wasn't natural, Harry suddenly thought. Uncle Vernon's gaze bored into his soul. His uncle had never looked at him that way before. Seen through him as though he wasn't there? Yes, of course, all the time, but not like this! Harry's eyes were locked on his uncle's face, and suddenly, he felt very afraid. He dropped the dusting rag in his fear, though he didn't notice.

Uncle Vernon stepped close, and Harry felt his legs begin to sink as he slid down the wall, still wedged in the corner. He kept watching his uncle. Uncle Vernon laboriously knelt down in front of Harry, who had curled into a ball on the floor. Uncle Vernon reached out with one hand and ran his hand through Harry's black mop of hair. Harry shuddered at the touch.

Harry valued his purity - something he had picked up from his church - but that didn't mean his was ignorant. He lived in a dorm full of boys, after all, for nine months out of the year, most of whom couldn't have cared less about things like purity. He felt his stomach clench as he tried not to think about where this seemed to be going. It just couldn't be happening. He had been so happy just a few moments ago.

His uncle's hand came down over his ear, caressing as it went, and finally cupping Harry's jaw. Harry's skin crawled, but he didn't have anywhere to go. He was trapped. And he knew he'd walked right into it. He reached up and took Harry's glasses off, tossing them to the nightstand. Harry wished he was blinder than he really was. Even with myopic sight, he could see his uncle's face clearly. Abruptly, Uncle Vernon's hand left his jaw, and he began to lightly brush his fingers over Harry's forehead, with an emphasis, Harry noticed, on his lightning scar. The fingers wandered against his eyelashes, causing him to close his eyes in response. Then he felt Uncle Vernon's fingertips cross his eyelids, brush the side of his nose, and trace the outline of his mouth.

Harry wanted to vomit, he was so repulsed by the situation. He opened his eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what was going to happen, but instinct told him to look. His uncle's fingertips slipped down to his throat, and caressed his Adam's apple. Harry's breath caught, and he noticed his heart rate had quickened.

Suddenly, Uncle Vernon backed away, and pulled at Harry's feet, causing his knees to come away from his chest. Harry was still in such shock that it didn't even occur to him to try to curl away again. Uncle Vernon quickly untied Harry's trainers, and pulled them off, along with the socks. Then, spreading his legs, his uncle scooted close again. But this time, his uncle reached for the hem of the hoodie, and stuck his hands under. Almost tickling Harry, his uncle ran his hands over Harry's rib cage, feeling each individual bone. He brought his hands up to Harry's throat, and pushed the shirt over Harry's head, gently pulling Harry's arms out as well.

Harry's mind was turning over and over, as his uncle continued his sick plan. His uncle. No, Harry couldn't face thinking of him as his uncle. Vernon. Just Vernon. It was easier if he didn't think of it as someone who was related to him. Didn't that actually make this incest? Harry thought. He tasted the bitter taste of fear in the back of his throat.

Vernon tossed the hoodie aside carelessly, and ran his eyes greedily over Harry's thin torso. He sucked in his breath in anticipation. Leaning forward, he touched Harry's shoulder, and brushed his fingers over Harry's clavicle, and down his sternum. He brought his other hand to the base of Harry's sternum, and forcefully pushed his fingers against the lowest ribs as his fingers found his way around Harry's middle. Vernon brought his hands up and the heels of his hands began to massage Harry's breasts. Harry gasped at the unexpected pressure.

"You like it?" Vernon whispered, smiling at him.

"No, sir," Harry managed to say, as Vernon's hands continued to work on him. "Please don't do this, sir. Please don't!"

"Just relax, Harry," Vernon said. "You'll enjoy it. Just give yourself over to it." Harry swallowed hard. He closed his eyes, resigned, and leaned his head against the wall with a dull thud. Harry felt Vernon's hands creep down over his ribs again, and they began to poke and prod at his stomach. Vernon brought his thumb over Harry's navel and began to press lightly.

"Why?" Harry asked quietly, his eyes still closed. Vernon leaned close, and put his mouth to Harry's ear. His hot breath tickled Harry's auricle.

"Does there have to be a reason, Harry?" he whispered.

"Why now?" Harry tried again, his voice weak.

"Because I want to see what it's like," Vernon replied. Harry cracked an eye open, questioning. "The things they sell at the adult shops, Harry," Vernon continued breathlessly, trying to explain. "I want to see if it's like everything they've promised."

"Pornography?" Harry questioned. "You're into pornography?"

"Adult entertainment," Vernon corrected. "Yes."

"When?"

"Ever since - well, ever since Petunia found 'a better man.' She stopped having sex with me, Harry. She has a lover, and I don't have anyone. I need something, can't you see? And at the adult shops, they have these films with boys your age, and they promise so much. I need to see if it's true."

"No, no," Harry protested weakly. "Please, don't. Can't you find a prostitute somewhere?"

"But a teenage prostitute?" Vernon said. "A young virgin?" Harry felt his breath hitch, as he knew he was doomed to whatever abuse Vernon wished to inflict on him. He was smaller in every way than the man that knelt over him. There was no way he could hope to escape. "For free?" Harry went silent, and shut his eyes again.

But he opened them wide when he felt Vernon's hands work their way down his abdomen, to the button of his trousers at his waist. For a moment, Vernon's hand reverently rested on the button. Then, almost ceremoniously, Vernon unbuttoned it, and undid the zipper in one fluid motion. Vernon's breathing began coming in ragged gasps, as he yanked Harry's trousers out from under him, and completely off, leaving him in a pair of over sized briefs. In order to jerk Harry's trousers off, Vernon had had to back off from his prey. He ran his eyes over Harry's legs. Vernon ran his hands over Harry's calf muscles, making Harry shudder, and then he began to work his way up past the back of Harry's knees. Bringing his hands around to the inside of Harry's thighs, just above the kneecap, Vernon pushed Harry's legs apart. Harry tried to offer some physical resistance, but it seemed like his body just wouldn't respond like he was commanding it.

Vernon began to feel the inside of Harry's thighs, but his eyes were not on his hands. He traced the edges of Harry's pants. Then he grabbed them on the outside near the bottom, and began to slowly pull. When the top of Harry's hips were revealed, Vernon paused. He reached out and ran his fingers over the bones. Vernon glanced at Harry's horrified face.

"Just give in," Vernon whispered seductively. He pulled at Harry's pants a little more, and a little more, until finally he couldn't stand it anymore and in one clean motion, Harry was stark naked in front of him. Harry put his hands over his face, trying to hide the shame he felt. He wanted to curl up, but Vernon was holding his ankles in place and he couldn't move.

Suddenly, the weight lifted from him. Harry brought his hands down to see what was happened. Vernon was stripping as fast as he could, and Harry covered his face again. Vernon's large hands reached under Harry's arms and brought him to his feet, with Harry still refusing to look upon his abuser.

"Take your hands away," Vernon ordered curtly. Harry complied, clasping his hands behind his back, and looked at the floor. "Look at me," Vernon said. So Harry looked up at his face. "Look at me," Vernon said again in a deathly whisper. He reached out and cupped the back of Harry's head, causing him to see the very thing he didn't want to. Harry trembled.

"Please, please, no," he begged, even though he knew it was useless. Vernon was hard with arousal, and he pressed on Harry's shoulders, causing Harry to fall to his knees. Vernon ran his fingers through Harry's hair, getting a good grip at the roots, as Harry looked at Vernon with unseeing eyes.

"Sheath your teeth," he ordered.

"What?" Harry asked, unsure what Vernon meant.

"Like this," Vernon said, and demonstrated how Harry should curl his lips around his teeth. "Or you'll scratch me." Harry made a face at Vernon, which indicated his desire to do just that. "Trust me, you won't want to try," Vernon continued, as he shook Harry's head, demonstrating to Harry the helplessness of his position. "Open up." Harry shook his head. "I said, open up!" Vernon shook Harry by the roots of his hair until he teeth rattled. He yanked on the thick hair. Harry let out a small cry of pain. Vernon took his opportunity and stuck himself into Harry's mouth.

Vernon pulled Harry close, and forced himself down the boy's throat, despite his gagging. Vernon moaned in pleasure.

"Suck, Harry, suck!" he breathlessly instructed, as he clamped his hand down forcefully into Harry's scalp, an unsaid warning. So Harry tried to comply. It brought more groans of pleasure from Vernon. An indistinct amount of time later, Vernon pushed his hips forward, and came into Harry's mouth. Immediately, Harry tried to back away and spit the semen out. Vernon let Harry back away, but he held Harry's mouth closed.

"Swallow it," he instructed. Finally Harry couldn't suppress the reaction anymore and he did. Vernon let go. Harry gasped, and watched Vernon's face, with large scared eyes. "Get up," Vernon said. Harry stumbled to his feet, shaking in fear. Quicker than Harry thought was possible, Vernon rushed on him, grabbed him by the shoulders, and slammed him on his back onto the bed. He brought Harry's legs onto the bed after him, and pressed his hips against Harry's. He laced his fingers with Harry's and placed them on either side of Harry's head. Vernon leaned forward, pressing his chest against Harry's.

Harry could feel the Vernon's feverish body against his own, pinning him so that could hardly move at all. Tears began to leak out of his eyes, as the initial shock of the situation began to leave. Vernon leaned close and ran his tongue experimentally over Harry's lips. Harry wordlessly whined a plea to stop, refusing to open his mouth.

"Relax, Harry," Vernon whispered, his lips just centimeters from Harry's. "It will be pleasurable, I promise. Just relax and enjoy it." Vernon pressed his open mouth against Harry's, and he worked Harry's mouth open with his lips and tongue. He ran his tongue around Harry's open mouth, over his teeth, against his cheeks, and ultimately engaging Harry's tongue. Vernon moaned into Harry's mouth, and Harry realized what an odd sensation, having someone else make noise into your mouth. Vernon changed the position of his head as he tried to get a better angle into Harry's mouth. Finally, Vernon's tongue receded from Harry's mouth.

"Did you enjoy it?" Vernon asked quietly.

"No, sir," Harry whispered. Tears continued to leak from his eyes. "Please." Harry knew Vernon knew what he was asking for, even if he didn't specify this time. Without releasing Harry's hands, Vernon wiped his tears away. He'd walked into this, Harry knew. Vernon had set a trap for him, and he hadn't seen it until it was too late. If only he had seen it sooner. If only he had seen, he wouldn't be here now, under Vernon's body, being violated.

Vernon let up on Harry, and pulled Harry into a sitting position with the use of their laced fingers. Harry came up like a limp rag doll, as he head lolled back. Vernon swung his leg off Harry. For a moment, Harry's eyes went to the door, but he saw it was locked. There was no way he could run. Even if he could move now, he was still just as trapped as ever.

"Kneel on the bed, Harry," Vernon said. Harry moved until he was in the ordered position, across from Vernon who was also kneeling. Quickly, Vernon dropped both of Harry's hands. He slapped one hand to the base of Harry's skull and brought Harry's lips to his own again. His other hand wandered down Harry's chest, to his stomach, and below.

"Touch me, Harry," Vernon moaned between the forced kissing. Harry tried to shake his head. Vernon's hand squeezed pointedly, making Harry yelp at the unexpected pain. Vernon chuckled.

"You bit me," he said. "Good boy." And he grabbed Harry's lip lightly between his teeth, pulling on it almost playfully. Harry began to squeak in fear as he tried to free his lip from Vernon's teeth. But at another sharp squeeze on Vernon's part, Harry remembered the order he had been given. Hesitantly, he moved his hand to Vernon's lower region.

Barely had Harry made contact, when Vernon let out a groan, releasing Harry's now bleeding lip.

"Oh, Harry," Vernon said, leaning against him for support, "Harry, Harry!" Harry pulled his hand away, eager to stop. "Don't stop!" Vernon brought Harry back into another passionate kiss.

Suddenly, Vernon broke the contact, and pushed Harry face down into the pillow, exposing Harry's backside. Vernon took his index finger and inserted it. He began to move it around, preparing Harry, who was biting the pillow, trying to repress screams.

"Oh, Harry," Vernon said in a bored tone, "be sensible. You can enjoy it." He inserted his middle, and finally his ring finger, as Harry continued to scream into the pillow. Once all was ready, Vernon, who was ready again, pushed himself into Harry. He was sure to do it slowly, savoring every moment. Once he was in, he began to thrust and pull. Finally, he hit Harry's prostate, and Harry arched his back suddenly, releasing the pillow, and began to gasp and moan.

"You're enjoying it?" Vernon said, leaning close to Harry's ear, but not easing up one bit. Suddenly, Harry was horrified to realize that at some level, he was enjoying it. Harry became acutely aware that his own body was acting independently of his will. Vernon's hand crept under him, and felt when he didn't answer. "So you are enjoying it, my little whore," he whispered into Harry's ear. Lightly, he laid a kiss on his auricle. "You're hard," he observed. "Very hard."

"Please leave me alone!" Harry whimpered, conflicted between a desire to resist and another to simply give up and enjoy it as Vernon had suggested. He felt ashamed that he couldn't control his body. He felt betrayed when he came into Vernon's hand. Vernon chuckled. He let go of Harry, and began to run his hands up and down Harry's back. He moaned with each rhythmic thrust, and finally, as he was preparing to come himself, he bit down into Harry's shoulder. Harry screamed, both out of pain and pleasure, because Vernon had made sure that his final thrust was extremely well aimed.

Once the final crescendo had died, Vernon rolled the two of them on their sides, though he hadn't pulled out of Harry. Vernon wiggled the both of them under a light sheet and blanket. He held Harry close, and ran his finger through Harry's black mop of hair as he laid gentle kisses on Harry's shoulder and neck.

They lay there for time untold, until Harry heard the old grandfather clock downstairs announce the coming of a new day.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Vernon whispered.

Harry began to cry softly, his tears forming wet patches on the pillow.

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