Nightmares of a Hero, Tears of the Foe

Title: Nightmares of a Hero, Tears of the foe

Author: Shinigami Liliz Black

Summary: Harry is having nightmares, the war is just beginning and mysteries lash out. Will Harry be able to love someone after his nightmares? Read it and find for yourself! Slash! Rape!

Rating: NC-17 (sometimes R)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are created and owned by JK Rowling, and various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warning: slash! Rape and abuse!

Pairings: Harry/Lucius, Others.

Category: Angst/Romance.

Status: BETAED by Felicia, thank you!

Notes: I suck at titles! I must thank Furor Scribiendi for writing all those Lucius/Harry stories! Brunette in my place means someone of tanned skin and dark hair. So I’m going to call Harry brunette. Story is almost PWP (Plot what Plots) Ideas are random. Be gentle its UNBETAED!


Chapter One: The tears of a Hero

He yawned as the sun blaze down on Privet Drive through his window. He stretched his hands towards the night table, eyes half opened reaching for his glasses. After placing them on, the swirling room came into focus as he stared at the ceiling.

For the past sixteen years of his life, hd bed been living in Privet Drive with his blasted uncle. Life was living hell; until Hagrid, the big, nice giant, came and handed him his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts. Since then, Harry had attended the magical school and learned the / his parents did at his age.

Harry Potter swung his legs of the bed and walked out of his room while scratching his stomach. He untapped the toilet as his shoulder relaxed after feeling his urge of peeing , and he adjusted his boxers. He looked at the reflection in the mirror. Harry had become a handsome young man. His hair was messy black, completely untangled reaching his neck. Hermione had been bothering him to cut his hair, but he simply refused. His skin was tanned from spending hours under the sun while doing chores around the garden. Two dark emerald eyes stared back at him, shinning with mischievousness as he fingered the lighting bolt scar in his forehead: The souvenir of his parent’s death.

He brushed his teeth, and sighed as he left the bathroom. Not only did he lose his parents, but this year, his godfather and only remaining relative , Sirius Black, died while attempting to stop his cousin Bellatrix from blasting Harry to hell.

After his fifth year at Hogwarts, things had changed; especially in his uncle’s house. Dudley had lost weight and he was now into kick-boxing, often using Hars a s a punching bag. Luckily, his Quidditch practice had trained him to endure pain and taught his muscles to resist the blow, though the next day a blue bruise would come out .

Uncle Vernon was more aggressive than ever. Especially now that Harry was sixteen years old. Once, he remembered, he had been punched by a very angry Vernon when he accidentally dropped one of Petunia’s best Chinese tea cup sets while he was cleaning them. That incident left a long painful bruise on his jaw; and days with out chewing hard foods.

He entered his room and opened his wardrobe, looking for some old jeans to wear since Petunia seems to fill his day with chores. His friends rarely wrote to him, since Ron and Hermione were with Ginny and the Grangers over in the U.S., and thier letters arrived later than expected.

“Harry Potter!!” his aunt Petunia yelled downstairs making him frown. ‘So much for a peaceful morning.’

He threw on oversize t-shirt of his cousin’s, and headed down stairs toward his screaming aunt.

“You were supposed to make breakfast!” she shrilled.

Harry murmured something like, ‘worse than a banshee’, and retrieved a frying pan from the cupboard that used to be his room. He watched how Petunia hugged her son as he stared in delight at the brand new model computer. Of course; it was Dudley’s birthday.

“Since you’re now seventeen years old and you’ll soon have a license I decide it is time you have your own car,” Vernon announced, retrieving a key from his pocket.

Dudley screamed like a girl who saw her favorite actor wink at He He snatched the keys from his father’s hand and ran outside, followed by his mother. Vernon clucked

Harry couldn’t help but snort as he flipped the pancakes in the frying pan. Vernon shot him a glare and smirked. He didn’t like that smirk.

“Watch it Potter,” he whispered, approaching Harry. Harry found himself rolling his eyes at the big wide man.

“I didn’t say a thing,” Harry said, retrieving the pancake from the frying pan and walking to the refrigerator to get the bacon. He was about to open the icebox when somebody turned him and slammed him against the refrigerator. A hand gripped his neck.

Vernon was inches away from the brunette’s face. He saw those dark emeralds widening in fear. Vernon felt his lips turning into a smirk and ran his hand around the waistband of Harry’s jeans, teasing.

Harry’s breath was stuck in his throat as Vernon slipped his hand inside.

“Dad! Dad!” Dudley yelled excited.

Vernon withdrew his hand and stared at the terrified brunette. “You’re lucky.”

“Coming Dudley,” he called.

Harry stood for several seconds looking straight ahead, breathing heavily.

Did Uncle Vernon just try to seduce him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Harry sat on his bed looking at his owl’s empty cage. Hedwig was gone for two days, delivering a letter to Ron and Hermione.

“I bet she will come home tired and hungry, after all that flying.”

He was clad only in his boxers and the glittering moonlight washed his chest and shoulder with white light. He clucked at the full moon, remembering his father’s friend Remus Lupin; who was surely turning into a wolf at the moment. He removed his glasses and closed the curtains over the window.

He cuddled into his bed and was about to drift off to sleep with a soft click prompted him to turn around. A big hand shoved him into the floor and stuffed a scarf into his mouth. Through the peeking moonlight, he saw Uncle Vernon smirking down at him.

Hastily, he was slammed onto his stomach; boxers removed and legs spread wide. He heard the whispering of a zipper and felt his eyes widen in fear at what was about to come.

He heard the man sneer evilly as he slammed inside the boy, making Harry’s eyes water, his scream muffled with the scarf. The movement continued. Withdraw, slam, withdraw, slam…each thrust harder than the one before.

Tears streamed from his green eyes as the man took hold of his groin, teasing him.

“I am in command,” he sneered, and slammed into the smaller form, making Harry scream at every thrust.

He was being raped.

Soon his uncle climaxed inside him; then he withdrew and zipped his pants. Harry felt is ass throb, unable to move as he felt his blood dripping on the floor.

“This was just the beginning boy,” Vernon said, reng tng the scarf as left the room.

Harry couldn’t stop his tears. He felt so dirty. He cuddled around his own blood and seed and drift off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He felt the sun burning down his face and naked body. Stirring, he sat up and winced as his ass burned from last night.

Last Night…

As soon his mind recalled what happened, his stomach flipped and, grabbing his boxers, he dashed to the bathroom and threw up. His eyes watered as he noticed the dried blood on his thighs.

Why everything happen to him?

The doorbell rang. “BOY, GET IT!” Petunia yelled.

“The brat is still sleeping,” Vernon said. Petunia frowned and walked to the door and opened it abruptly.

In the doorstep stood a woman, with messy black hair reaching her shoulders. Bright hazel eyes shined and her lips turned into a smile. Her skin was tanner than usual, as if she had spent most of her time in the sun. She wore black kaki pants reaching her knees, with a tight blue t-shirt spelling in bright yellow Got Butterbeer? and black Vanz sport shoes. On top of her clothes was a black cloak reaching to her ankles.

“Hello,” she said in a very unsteady British accent. “Is this Petunia Dursley’s house?”

Petunia raised her eyebrow at the woman smiling at her. “I am she.”

“Oh. Oh!” she exclaimed in an American-Caribbean accent. “I’m so glad I found you!”

“Who ever you are, no thanks.”

“I’m here to pick y ney nephew,” she said hastily before Petunia could close the door.

“How old are you?” Petunia asked.

“Twenty six,” she said and continued, “It was my responsibility to take care of him after his parents died, though he has his godfather, but the Ministry of Magic will not allow a convict to take care of him. I am the most likely to- hey!”

Petunia was trying to close the door but the woman stopped her by pushing on it. Both women struggled.

“Petunia! It’s not my fault you’re a Squib!” she said as the door shut forcefully. “Open the god damn door!”

Petunia leaned back on the door, breathing heavily. Twitching her lips she realized something. The woman was asking for Harry. Rapidly, she opened the door and was about to say ‘take him away,’ but the woman was gone, nowhere to be found.

Sighing, she shut the door. ‘Was all that an illusion?’ She thought, but suddenly dismissed the idea with a shrug of her shoulders.

TBC…

Notes: Well? Did ya like it? I never had written something such as rape but be gentle, this is my first shot. Review so I can keep on writing!