Harryrella

A/N: Based around the fairy tale of Cinderella (but my version is funnier) and although there are things like fairy godmothers (oops I mean godfathers), pumpkins and magic, it’s AU. Tom Riddle is part of the Dursley family; I need two ugly brothers after all. This is non canon and should not be taken seriously, so no flaming please. That's what author's notes are for, to tell you important information. All characters are out of character, it's my story and that's final.

I would like to dedicate this first chapter to shadow_samurai, who is not only my beta, but a great person too. Thank you, hon.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books and Warner Brothers, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Harryrella


Early Saturday morning in Privet Drive, Surrey, found the Dursley family sitting around the table eating their breakfast. Mr Dursley was a whale-like man, although he found himself having a lot of sex appeal- after all, his wife was willing to be claimed by him night after night. She, on the other hand, looked like she had missed one hot dinner too many. Horse-like features and a long scraggy neck were made all the more prominent by her constant nosing out of the pristine windows. Petunia Dursley was proud of her family, her loving husband and two wonderful boys. It was hard to believe another youth lived in the house, although he was hardly seen as his quarters were in the cellar. She exhaled a contented sigh as she ate and watched her husband across the table. He sat preening himself, as was customary every morning, while his two (what he thought) handsome sons tucked into their morning fry-up.

“Enjoying your breakfast, lads?” he asked whilst checking himself again in the mirror.

“Nah, eggs are hard and the bacon looks like it’s been run over by a forklift,” his youngest son, Dudley, exclaimed. It didn’t stop the fat slob eating with gusto, though. He knew what was coming next. Looking at his older brother, Tom, Dudley counted from five to one, then…!

“BOY, GET YOUR SCRAWNY ARSE IN HERE RIGHT NOW!” the whale bellowed. Dudley smirked at his father, who was right on cue as usual. The kitchen door opened and a smaller, dark-haired boy with hideous glasses approached the table with a sombre look.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon?” he asked, looking up to find four pairs of eyes trained on him. He wanted to cower and hide from the intense glaring, but he stood tall (well as tall as he could for a scrawny teenager) and stared at the whale and his pack. The whale’s face was now twisted in rage and was turning a sickly puce colour.

“Why is Dudders complaining that his breakfast isn’t up to standard?” he asked. The smaller boy looked perplexed and scratched his head as though it would help him find an answer. He gazed longingly at the food on the table, wishing he could have just a small piece to savour while he did his chores throughout the day.

He knew his family didn’t like him. He wasn’t from their little group, just an orphan dumped on their doorstep when he was one year old by persons unknown, and all because his parents had died in a car crash. It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t ask to be here, and he could have gone to live with the person who left him in his basket instead. But no, Aunt Petunia was his mum’s sister, and because she was family, he was stuck here. He pulled himself out of his reverie and muttered under his breath.

“What was that, boy? I didn’t quite hear you.” The whale was grinning now, enjoying making his irritating nephew squirm.

The boy cleared his throat and with a haughty expression, head held high, he blurted out, “I have no idea why his breakfast isn’t up to standard, there’s no evidence to say likewise. And my name is Harry, thank you very much. Oh and by the way, the bacon kind of fell on the floor when I took it out the pan and I accidentally stood on it. I… erm… I’ll go and finish my chores.” Harry smirked to himself as he left the kitchen, horror-stricken expressions etched on his relatives' faces.

He giggled all the way down to the cellar as he heard his aunt spluttering and yelling for a glass of disinfectant to clean her mouth out, and the look on the whale’s face was priceless. “That boy is a menace! He may be ruddy seventeen, but he’s not too old for a size nine across his arse. If we get sick, I’ll… I’ll… ruddy impudent bugger!”

*************

Harry spent the day doing his usual chores. Scrubbing, polishing, changing beds, breathing, peeing. ‘Yeah, I am allowed those two luxuries, to pee and breathe, although the latter would be better if it ceased to be in this place,’ he muttered. He sat down on the cold stone cellar stair and dropped his head onto his knees. His hands were red and calloused from all the scrubbing, and his legs ached so much from stooping all the time.

“It’s not fair, I have done nothing but slave for this family since I was a toddler, and I get nothing from them, not a single word of thanks, not even a smile or a pat on the back. I wish someone would take me away from all this. Where’s my handsome prince when I need him huh?” 'Woah! Stop there, Harry, rewind a bit. Did I just say handsome prince? Fuck me, I’m a queer. Am I? How the hell do I know? Fuck off, Mr Annoying Voice, and get out my head.’

He took his time to reflect on what he’d just thought. “I think I must be gay, I have to be. Fuck, yeah, it all makes sense now,” Harry muttered to himself. “The way I was oblivious to that bint, Hermione, in my class when she accidentally on purpose shoved her ample cleavage under my nose in chemistry, and… and the way I noticed how nice my friend Ron's hands were. You are supposed to notice tits and girls' hands if you’re not gay. Oh bugger me gently, why is my life so complicated?” Harry sat and pondered a few minutes more until Tom appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Spotty Potty, fetch the mail will you? I don’t want to break a nail.” Harry gave the snobby git the two fingered salute and stomped up the stairs to retrieve the post.

It was a mad scramble for the mail when Harry brought it into the living room, all trying to see if there was at least one thing for either one of them. Vernon groaned out loud at the ruddy pile of junk mail and bills. He didn’t notice the pale green envelope that slipped out of his hand and onto the shag pile rug on which they were all standing. Tom picked it up and furrowed his brow. Dudley tried to peer over his shoulder, but was swatted away. The envelope was snatched from his manicured hand and torn open. If Vernon Dursley hadn’t moved to the comfortable sofa, he would have collapsed onto the rug in an unmanly fashion. Shock was evident on his sweaty face and his jowls quivered uncontrollably.

“Vernon, cupcake, whatever’s the matter?” Petunia said as he thrust the letter into her hand. She paled instantly, and then read it aloud for her sons to hear.

To whom it may concern,
To celebrate the upcoming eighteenth birthday of Prince Draco Malfoy (next in line to the Malfoy throne in Wiltshire,) we would like to cordially invite all single virginal males between seventeen and twenty years old to join in the frivolities, with the hope of the young sire finding his Mr Right. We are aware of the views on homosexuality, but we don’t give a fiddler’s fart as we are royalty. All those interested should attend the main banqueting hall at Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, on Saturday 5th June. Please respond quickly and transport will be provided.
Sincerely,
The Malfoy Royals

“Close your mouths, boys. I don’t want spittle all over my rug,” Petunia chided. “Now we need to get these replies out and get you kitted out in clothes fit for a king, I mean a prince.” Harry took that as his cue to silently slip out of the room and head to the solace of his cold cellar.

***********
He didn’t remember falling asleep, but as the sound of footsteps registered in his brain Harry shot up from his inflatable airbed and started to look busy. He didn’t turn around when the taunting started until he felt a hand slap his head.

“Hey you, arse wipe, I need you to go and get my CDs out of my room and bring them to me, as Tom and I are learning to dance for this party. Should be a grand affair, shame there was no invite for you.” Harry stared dumbfounded at his cousin before he burst into fits of hysterical laughter.

Dudley stood and gawked open-mouthed at the teenager in front of him, wondering why the hell he was laughing. As quick as it started, the laughter stopped. Harry wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes and stalked towards mini-whale.

Poking the chest of Dudley, Harry was quick to retort, “Right, beach ball, let’s get some things straight here. One: I’m not an arse wipe, two: get your own fuckin’ CDs, and three: the invite stated ALL virginal males between seventeen and twenty, so since I fall into that category I am invited. Oh, and one other thing, Duddy-pooh, you’ll need to learn to take it up the arse - after all, Prince Draco is gay.” Harry watched the colour drain from his cousin’s cheeks before he went upstairs to prepare the evening meal.

Dudley thought he was going to be sick. “Take it up the arse? Does he mean… bloody hell, he means Prince High and Mighty will have to put his… his willy in my arse? Ewww, no way, no fucking way, I’m not a queer. I’ll go to the party, get hammered with drink and eat as much food as I can, then leave before any cock comes near me.” He shook his head, trying to clear it from the sickening thoughts of shagging a bloke or vice versa. “And besides, I’m not gay. I’m trying to get into that Pansy Parkinson’s pants.”

********

Dinner was a sombre affair for Harry. He washed dishes as his dysfunctional family ate the meal he’d prepared - roast beef with lots of gravy and new potatoes - and Harry’s stomach growled loudly as he pictured a steaming plate of the delicious food for himself. An idea struck him, one he didn’t want to pass up.

“Uncle Vernon?” Harry mumbled nervously, fumbling with the threadbare sleeves of his oversized jumper.

The whale stopped mid chew to look at the specky git in front of him who dared to interrupt his meal. “What is it, boy? I’m trying to eat here, spit it out.”

Finding some courage, which was hard for Harry to do, he stared at the floor as he addressed his uncle. “I… erm… um… I was wondering, you know, if I helped Dudley and Tom with preparations for the um… party if I could maybehavesomedinner?” He said the last words quickly, hoping he wasn’t heard and his uncle would just nod, but no such luck.

“SOME DINNER? YOU WANT SOME FUCKIN’ DINNER? WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, OLIVER RUDDY TWIST?” Vernon spat.

“No, sir, Harry ruddy Potter, and I’m hungry and refuse to clean up after you slobs any longer if I don’t get anything in return.” He shifted nervously from foot to foot, hoping his outburst wouldn’t make things worse. He was pleasantly surprised when his uncle whale shovelled more food into his huge mouth and pondered over the request for a minute.

“Alright, but you help them learn to dance-” Harry was about to interrupt and say he couldn’t dance, but he closed his mouth when he saw his uncle’s questioning glare- “Teach them to dance, and everything else they may need to learn, and you can have your reward, understood?” Harry nodded then bit his lip. ‘Let the fun begin,’ he thought silently.

“Fine, but, sir, does that mean I have to shag them too? I assume his Highness will be hoping to bed his future Mr Right that night.” ‘Fuck, I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it,’ he mused as an afterthought.

If the stunned looks were anything to go by, Harry was sure his dinner was going to end up over him. Instead of his meal being thrown in his direction, he was shocked to feel a meaty fist smash into his head. Harry saw stars and swayed on his feet before being pulled rather violently out of the dining room and to his cellar. He wondered how many more shades his uncle’s face could become; it was now a vibrant maroon-like colour due to the anger.

“My sons are not poufs, BOY! What gave you that impression?” Spittle was flying from Vernon’s mouth as he continued his yelling. “You are becoming far too big for your ruddy boots and it’s going to stop!”

Once Harry thought his uncle whale had finished, he slowly said, “Uncle Wh… er Vernon, I don’t know if you read the invitation properly, but it mentioned homosexuality and virginal males. Now I don’t know what planet you’re living on, but here on earth, that means only one thing, hmmm?” Harry raised his brows in a seductive way causing his uncle to mumble something incoherent and stalk towards the stairs.

“You may eat once we’re finished,” he sneered at the brunet before leaving the cellar.

Despite the blow to the head, Harry was in fits of laughter at his quick retorts and the reactions from his family. “Jeez I’m a bloody comedian ha ha ha! Okay, Harry, pull yourself together, this is no time for hilarity. You’re supposed to be upset and fuckin’ hungry.”

*********

The cellar was cold and draughty, but Harry didn’t mind. He had books to read, although he’d read them umpteen times. Now he was bored. He propped himself up on his pillow and let his mind drift back to earlier in the day. He couldn’t just assume he was gay because of one thing he’d said. He tried to think of all the pretty girls in his classes at school.

‘Hermione’s pretty, in her own way. Lovely curly brown hair, chocolate coloured eyes that anyone would melt into and big breasts, breasts, c’mon, BREASTS! Why the fuck is my cock not responding? Bugger!’

He closed his eyes and tried again. ‘Ginny Weasley, Ron’s little sister, feisty little thing she is. Oh yeah, I could give her one.’ Squinting once more to see if there was any sign of his jeans tenting at the front, he sighed in frustration. “Not this time, Harry. Okay, relax, concentrate - now think about what I find attractive, then narrow it down,” he mused.

Closing his eyes, he focused mainly on the things that he liked to look at. ‘Um… inner voice is telling you, Harry, that you don’t know what you like.’ “Shut the fuck up, you fruitcake! I know what I don’t like and that’s tits. Ewww, too squishy and, oh hell this is so hard.” ‘Glad something is, Harry, because there’s not a lot happening in the nether regions, is there?’ He just ignored his inner voice this time and thought about the party. Lots of single males to maybe eye up, and not forgetting Prince Draco. “I wonder what he looks like. I bet he’s hot in bed and… and I wonder if he’s a screamer or a moaner. Oh gods, oh my fuckin god.” Harry felt the slight twitch of his cock, and let his hand travel to his crotch and rub himself through his jeans.

Unfastening his belt and his button fly, Harry touched himself shamelessly until his hard member was pulsing and hot in his hand. “I’m gay,” he moaned as he wrapped his hand around the head and slowly rubbed at the slit. Spreading the pre-come along the shaft, he kept a steady rhythm, thrusting into his hand on each downward stroke. Harry threw back his head and enjoyed the sensations of his first ever wank over a guy. He could feel his climax building and he stroked faster. A vision of what he imagined Draco to look like flashed through his mind, and he came hard and fast into his hand. Harry continued stroking his spent cock until it returned to its usual soft size. He opened his eyes and got up from his bed to find a cloth, and cleaned himself up.

After a quick shower and his belated dinner, Harry returned to his cellar and went to bed. Sleep came easy and as he drifted off, he dreamt of princes, castles, and shagging.

TBC