Why Do You Love Me?

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

Warnings: Same applies. Slightly OOC Dudley.

Response to reviews: Wow, I’m glad that this fic has gotten so much attention. I’m glad everyone likes it, and here are a few people that I’d like to reply to.

cyn -- Thank you for your honest review! I love it when people actually put what they think instead of sugar-coating it. I especially liked the way you critiqued Aunt Petunia. I’m glad that someone did so; it helps me to know how to portray the characters when I know what my readers think.

I understand that Aunt Petunia was acting like she had two different personalities, and I put it in there on purpose, but I wasn’t quite sure how to go from one to the other. There’s this side of Petunia that I believe really cares about Harry, but Vernon holds her back from it. She was accepting of the fact that her husband came home late after a drunken escapade, and even though she kicked him out, it’s his home, and she has a certain loyalty to him that she can’t break, even though she knows what he did was wrong. (Kind of like the loyalty of a DE to Voldemort.)

So she somehow finds a way to bend the blame around and put it all on Harry, as Vernon has taught her to do over the years. And then there’s the fact that she was absolutely jealous of Lily, so she feels a bit of resentment towards Harry because he has some abilities that she was denied. Of course, this is just how I see the characters, and you may see them completely differently. I hope that answers some of your questions. If you review again, just do what you did this time! I love honest reviews, and the opinions of the readers really matter to me. To me, your ramblings weren’t ramblings at all; they’ve helped me even out a few things that I wasn’t sure about, so thanks!

JoeyCat (Joana) -- I’m sorry you were outraged, but at least I know that you’ll be coming back to read more, right? I don’t have any more chapters written, because I honestly hadn’t planned on posting this fic so early. But now that I know the response from everyone, I couldn’t possibly leave you all hanging, so I believe I’ll update at least once a week on this fic. On my other fic, I’ll still update often, but I’m not quite sure how often.

A big thanks to everyone else who has reviewed so far. (hina, thrnbrooke, Banner, Katelynn, Jujube15, animegurl088, kozie, GlenWing, paddy, draco8448, laura lu, greeneyes, cyn, and Joana.)

Chapter Two

Just a Dream


Harry lay there on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. ‘This did not happen. I’m going to open my eyes, and this will all have been a dream. It’s okay,’ Harry breathed deeply as he tried to reassure himself. ‘I’m okay. I just…I just fell out of bed, that’s all. It was just a dream. Just a dream…’

But the pain in his lower half refused to diminish; the ever-present throb and the warmth and stickiness that accompanied it let Harry know that he was bleeding, and Harry knew that the fact that he had been raped would not go away, no matter how much he tried to pretend that it hadn’t happened.

It’s my fault. Harry realized with a shudder as he rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around himself in a painfully tight embrace. He lay on his side, curled up into a ball, and as his thoughts flew through his head, he began to shiver; whether from the cold of the hard, bare floor, or from the guilt and shame that would now accompany him wherever he went, Harry didn’t know. ‘It’s my fault he’s done this, and he’ll do it again. If I had just blocked off all mail, then-’

One of Harry’s inner voices cut in right then, but it was cold and distant, where it had once been constant and reassuring. -You didn’t know she’d send mail the muggle way. You had no way of knowing.-

Harry shook his head almost violently as the first tears began to fall. They were sweltering hot, but they felt cleansing. ‘My fault…my fault…’ Harry’s insistence that it was his fault pushed the reassuring voice deeper into his mind until it stopped trying to comfort him. Then he was left alone with his cold thoughts, being eaten alive by the guilt, and buried beneath the shame. And his tears continued to fall.

…
…
…

The sun was coming up, and Harry still lay on the floor, in the same position he had been in when he had begun to cry, and in the same position he had been in when the tears had finally stopped descending and his face had hardened in resolve.

Hedwig still had not come back, but that was to be expected. She always spent some extra time at the Weasley’s, and she always came back well-nourished, which was more than Harry could say she was when he sent her to them. And besides, it had only been a day. There was nothing to worry about yet…right?

And yet Harry had a gut feeling that everything was not okay; as a matter of fact, the roiling in his stomach and the disgruntling feeling that something terribly, terribly wrong was going on would not remove itself from Harry’s person.

Rolling back onto his back, Harry could hardly even notice the pain that was in his back-side anymore, though to a normal person it would still have been something for them to worry about. But of course, he was Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived to save the Wizarding World. He was not a normal person.

But perhaps the reason he didn’t feel the pain wasn’t because he was the Boy Who Lived; no, it was more likely that Harry had gotten used to the pain in the short amount of time since Vernon Dursley had left his room. As a matter of fact, Harry was feeling rather numb right about now…Of course, he didn’t notice this. He hardly noticed anything, even as the door to his bedroom slowly crept open on its hinges, barely making a noise as Dudley stuck his fat head in to check on Harry, as he had been instructed to by his mother.

“Harry?” Dudley asked softly, a look of worry stretching over his face as he saw the spread-eagled position Harry lay in. “Are…are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, voice dull and void of any emotion. “Yeah, just chipper. Couldn’t be better, really.” Harry’s gaze returned to the ceiling, and Dudley raised both of his thick blonde eyebrows.

“Um…are you sure?”

Harry’s eyes crept towards Dudley slowly, and when their eyes finally met, a chill chased down Dudley’s spine at the look of dismal despair that lay deeply imbedded into Harry’s very soul. His eyes were no longer as bright as they once had been, held barely any fire at all. They had lost their usual luster; they didn’t look human by any means. Rather, they looked like a doll’s eyes; void of any and all emotion that could possibly link him in any way to any type of humanity.

Harry gave a swift nod, inclining his head only once, before he moved his eyes to look back up at the ceiling.

“Uh…are you hungry?” Dudley asked, stalling to see if there was any serious damage to Harry’s being.

Harry shook his head, his gaze never wavering from its position. “Dad…dad’s not here.”

Harry flinched at the mention of the foul creature that still had the gall to call himself father. “I’m not hungry, Dudley.” He snapped.

“You…you sure?”

Harry sighed. “Just go away, okay?”

Dudley looked Harry over worriedly. “Do you…want to leave? You can go to…uh…a friend’s house, if you want.”

Harry finally drew his eyes away from the ceiling to half glare at his cousin, before bitterly asking, “What friends?”

“Uh…you know, the ones from your…school.” Dudley was really starting to regret all the times he had teased and beat on Harry. Harry was proving to be less trusting the further they got into conversation, as though he believed that Dudley was going to jump him at any moment.

“I don’t have friends.” Harry said, lips curling into a sneer.

Dudley’s brow furrowed in thought, and he looked at Harry curiously. “You should at least come down for breakfast. Mum says you haven’t eaten for nearly four days. Besides, today’s your birthday.”

Harry blinked. “And I suppose you’ve made me a cake and all that, and even went out and got me presents, yeah?”

Dudley shook his head. “No. Usually that’s your…er…friends’ job.”

Harry snorted. “I’ve told you,” He said, eyes trailing back to the ceiling. “I’ve got no friends.”

Dudley decided not to push the subject. He wondered what had happened between Harry and his friends to cause him to disown them, but didn’t dare ask. Of course he knew that Harry had been receiving gifts from his friends on his birthdays, but by the time he found the stash, it was time for Harry to go to school, so he never had been able to bust him. And then there was the fact that the goods were hidden in different places every year. Now he regretted ever trying.

“Well,” Dudley said, stepping fully into the room, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. “You’re seventeen now. You’re legally of age. I suppose you’re happy that you can perform magic…er…legally now, yeah?”

Harry sighed. “Not until after I graduate, I can’t.” He said glumly. “That should make you and your sodding family happy, at least. I can’t jinx you quite yet without getting my wand broken.”

Dudley blinked. He was, of course, still frightened of Harry, but after being rescued from the Dementor that he hadn’t even been able to see that night two years ago, his respect for his cousin had grown immensely. And he had matured since then. “I…uh…sorry. That you still can’t do magic, I mean. But…this is your last year at that school, right?”

Harry nodded, his movement barely noticeable.

“Dudley! Breakfast!” Petunia called from the bottom of the stairs, and Dudley jumped in surprise.

“Uh…you sure you’re not hungry?”

Harry nodded again, and Dudley sighed before turning and leaving the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

As Dudley trod down the stairs, he couldn’t help but feeling sorry for the broken boy that lay up in his room, still and staring at nothingness. He wondered what could possibly be going through Harry’s mind at a time like this. He wondered if Harry blamed himself, and he wondered if everything he had learned about rape victims were true. He certainly hoped not.

Petunia greeted her son like she did every day. She patted his hair down, kissed his cheek softly, and led him into the kitchen, talking about the weather and the school supplies that they still needed to buy. She noticed that her son was unusually withdrawn today, but overlooked it as a lack of sleep. Harry had been awfully noisy the prior night, it was no wonder her precious little Dudders was out of it.

Smiling warmly at her son, she placed a heaping bowl of porridge in front of him. Usually when Dudley noticed he was having porridge for breakfast, he put up a fight, but today, he just glanced at it, asked his mother to pass the sugar, and began to eat. Petunia was worried.

Meanwhile, Harry had yet to move from the floor. A loud tapping at his window brought him out of his musings of suicide for the time being, and he glanced up in time to see Hedwig soar into his room. “Hedwig!” Harry exclaimed, sitting up and ignoring his body’s protests.

A short letter was tied to Hedwig’s leg, and Harry eyed it hopefully. Hedwig held her leg out for him, and Harry quickly untied the note. Reaching into his pocket for the owl treats he normally kept there, he sighed when he realized that he had none left; they had al fallen out of his pockets the day his uncle had beat the living daylights out of him in the kitchen. They were probably long gone now.

He shook his head sadly at Hedwig, and she nipped at his finger understandingly before hopping up to the window ledge and flying out again. Harry sighed as he unfolded the note.

He couldn’t believe what it said.

Very funny, Harry. If you hadn’t shown up for the party, I probably would have believed you, too. Did you write this before you went, because you didn’t plan on going? Well, anyways, happy birthday. We already gave you your presents, so I don’t see reason to give you anything else. Anyways, how has your summer been? (Seriously! Don’t play pranks on us like that, do you know how worried we could have been if you hadn’t shown up?) Sorry we didn’t get to talk much, but you know how things are in relationships. Ron’s a beast, I swear. I’m glad you can come to the burrow tomorrow, we all look forward to seeing you. We have a lot of things to tell you! Did you know, Fred and George plan on opening a second shop over in Hogsmeade! Isn’t that great? We can go and visit them and everything! I think they’re putting someone else in charge of their other shop in Diagon Alley, though. They can’t be two places at once. Maybe we can talk them into working separately. I don’t know. Well, Arthur will be by at seven to pick you up, so be ready! And don’t forget your trunk, you probably won’t be going back for it.

Hermione

Harry gaped down at the letter. ‘How could she not believe me?’ He thought. ‘I’m not the kind of person to pull that kind of prank! Ugh! Maybe when she sees me tomorrow, she’ll have to believe me.’ Even though the thought wasn’t quite as comforting as Harry would have liked it to be, he sighed and stood, deciding to go down to breakfast and break the good news to his ‘family.’

“You’re what?! You didn’t even ask permission!”

“I’m legally of age! I don’t have to.”

“So long as you’re living under this roof, boy, you will ask permission before going anywhere!” Harry glared heatedly at his aunt, challenging her to do something about it. Relenting, his aunt glared back at him.

“But thank god we’ll never have to see your ugly face again.” With a smug smile, she walked over to the stove and made up a plate for Harry. (Which was much smaller than Dudley’s. But of course, that’s how things always went. Harry didn’t know why he expected for it to be any different.)

When they were finished eating, Harry sat back and sighed, looking up at the ceiling, which appeared blurry before his eyes, because his nose was still throbbing and the swelling probably wouldn’t be down for at least another few days. “You!” His aunt shrieked, and Harry jumped in surprise.

“Go up to your room! Vernon will be bringing your Aunt Marge home in a couple of hours, and we do not wish to see you at all. We expect you to leave quietly tomorrow, and in the mean-time, we do not wish to know that you are here, understood? And you tell those…people…of yours that they are to pick you up the normal way! I will not have my living room blown to bits like the last time!”

Harry nodded and left the room, collapsing on his bed as soon as the door to his own room was securely shut behind him. His face buried in his hands, he sighed and rubbed his eyes warily. ‘Soon,’ He thought to himself reassuringly. ‘I’ll be leaving soon. He won’t try anything if Marge is here. I have nothing to worry about.’

Harry had no clue just how wrong he was.

…
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…

It was late into the night, and Harry was sure that everyone was asleep. He had heard his uncle and Aunt Marge coming home at least four hours ago, and had even heard his uncle tromp up to bed, so he was pretty sure that at least he was asleep.

When Hedwig had flown back into his room, he had sent her off immediately with a letter to Hermione, asking her to have Arthur pick him up in a car, perhaps a flying one, that way his home wouldn’t be blown up again. Hedwig had come back just an hour ago, and was perched contentedly in her cage, eyes closed, on top of Harry’s now-packed trunk, awaiting the next day when they would both be whisked away.

Harry was lying on his back in his bed, staring, once again, at the ceiling, mulling over thoughts that he wasn’t sure were even his own. He didn’t hear the door to his bedroom opening, or the soft click of the lock when someone locked it from the inside.

“What’s this I hear about you leaving tomorrow, huh boy?” The voice was soft and deadly, and the eyes of the person the voice belonged to glinted with a barely suppressed furry.

Harry blinked up at his looming uncle like a dear caught in the headlights. His mouth was glued shut and had suddenly gone very dry, and his limbs started shaking of their own accord. He was completely and utterly scared.

“Are you too good for this family, then? Is that it? We don’t deserve you? Well, I’ll tell you something,” Vernon climbed slowly, predatorily onto Harry’s small twin bed. “You are nothing but a selfish, disgusting freak! You will never amount to anything. Nothing! You hear me?” The words were whispered, but they had the same amount of force as if they had been screamed at the top of Vernon Dursley’s lungs.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat and his heart started pounding harder in his fear. “Turn over, boy. You have a lesson to learn.”

Harry shook his head violently, trying to crawl away from his uncle but having little luck. Vernon grasped Harry’s ankle and yanked, flipping Harry over onto his stomach harshly, knocking the air out of Harry.

“Do not disobey me, boy. You will only make it worse.”

“No, stop it! Quit!” Harry yelled, and Vernon shot him a murderous look.

“Shut up!” He whispered viciously, landing a hard punch to Harry’s shoulder. Harry groaned in pain as his whole right limb went numb. “You will not yell in this house, especially when everyone is asleep! Use your inside voice, or suffer the consequences.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Only a dream, this is only a dream.’ The thought repeated itself in his mind as yet again his pants were ripped brutally from his being and tossed aside, the shreds no longer wearable. ‘Only a dream, this is only a dream.’ The thought continued again as his shirt was also ripped from his body and tossed into a heap on top of his pants. He was now left only in his underwear.

‘Only a dream, this is only a dream.’ He could hear the clinking of a belt as it was undone and the sound of it being pulled from the loops of his uncle’s pants. Seconds later, he could feel the leather of the belt whipping forcefully against his back, leaving large welts. He could feel some start bleeding, and tears formed in his eyes as he realized that Vernon was yanking his own pants down.

They began streaming as Vernon entered him brutally from behind. The fact that there was no lubrication only served to make the pain that much worse, and Harry cried out before he could stop himself. The sharp whack of the belt on his back immediately cut off the noise. “Shut up,” His uncle grunted as he pulled out swiftly, only to push viciously back into Harry’s abused body.

“Please stop,” Harry whispered, though he knew it was useless. “Please.”

The cruel laughter that met his ears caused him to flinch as he was thrust into again, more violent than the last. Vernon was coming closer to the edge. Harry groaned in pain and wished desperately for his uncle to finish and just leave him alone.

“Oh, you like that, do you freak? Does it turn you on? I knew you were a queer.” His voice was filled with malice as he thrust once more into Harry’s prone body. When Vernon came, he violently slammed Harry’s head against the wall, effectively knocking him unconscious. One word seemed to echo in Harry’s mind, even though he wasn’t conscious to hear it. ‘Freak!’

…
…
…

Vernon grunted as he yanked his pants up and put the belt back through the loops. He glared hatefully down at Harry before walking to the door. One hate-filled glance later, the light was flicked off, and the door was quietly shut, leaving Harry to bleed alone on his bed.

Vernon sighed in pleasure as he lowered himself into the bed he shared with Petunia. “Did you have a nice shower, dear?” She asked, turning around to embrace him.

“Quite.” Vernon said with a small smile directed towards his wife. “And what made it all the better was the fact that that wretched boy will be leaving once and for all tomorrow.” He trailed his hand slowly down Petunia’s spine and smiled seductively at her. “Actually, the thought of him leaving makes me quite randy. Think we could have a go?”

Petunia smiled at him and moved quickly to straddle him.

…
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…

Dudley glared at the wall to his room, where he could hear his parents doing the nasty in the room right next to his. It was times like this he wished that he could be magic, that way he could make them either stop or he could put up a silencing charm so that he wouldn’t have to hear them in action.

He sighed when the pounding on the wall finally died down, and closed his eyes when he heard his father say good night to his mother. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning, though, and Dudley knew that it was useless to try to go to sleep. Standing and stretching, he glanced at his clock once more before quietly sneaking down the stairs and to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, he pulled out various items of food and trudged quietly back up to his room. Once he was at his bedroom door, he had to face the fact that it was closed, and it would take quite some effort to open it without causing any ruckus or dropping any of his food. Sighing, he put down a couple of plates, and just as he was turning the knob of his own door, he could hear the door across from his own creaking slowly open.

Curiously, Dudley peeked into Harry’s room. The sight that greeted him was not a pleasant one. Harry was on his knees, face buried in the pillow. He was completely naked and bleeding profusely from many open gashes on his back. His position looked very uncomfortable, but what drew Dudley’s eyes was the large puddle of blood that was pooling on the otherwise white pillow that his head rested on.