Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

I Don't Think You're a Waste of Space	By : SparklySprinkles Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Dudley/Harry Views: 10089 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Fictional story based on fictional characters. I own nothing of Harry Potter, and make no money.

Chapter List
- 1-chapter one
- 2-Chapter Two
- 3-Chapter Three
- 4-four
- 5-five
- 6-six
- 7-seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-nine
- 10-ten
- 11-eleven
- 12-twelve
- 13-thirteen
- 14-fourteen
- 15-fifteen
- 16-sixteen
- 17-seventeen
- 18-eighteen
- 19-nineteen
- 20-twenty
- 21-twenny one
- 22-twenny two
- 23-twenty three
- 24-twenty four
- 25-one more to go!
- 26-the end (26)
- 16
- 17
- 18
   He felt much better when he opened his eyes next, which happened to be to the sound of Dudley's feet stepping lightly above him. His head was clear, not hurting at all, and he could move his mouth, could swallow his nothing without it hurting, without it being work. He'd drank a lot of water Out There. It must have been morning, and he'd slept through his aunt's footsteps. That was unusual, but he'd been so tired.
   He didn't think about anything else he'd done in the last few hours. It wasn't worse than anything else he'd done before, and it was over. But his uncle had said he could be back earlier than six days. Not the best, but he wasn't there right then. That would have to be enough. He was still sleeping. Even better. The day was looking up.
   Dudley parked outside his door and sat quietly, linking Harry again to everything else that lived and moved, and Harry took it silently.
   The day passed, and the next. No one came in the room, and Harry's mouth dried up, as he filled his bucket a little more. What he would do when it was full he didn't know, and he didn't really care. If no one besides his uncle would ever be in here again, what did it matter? He even thought about not using it, just messing his bed, but his uncle rarely touched that, and it would only hurt Harry to do so. And, he could always decide to bring Harry back upstairs. He didn't want that. Much as this vault terrified him, being some sort of actual companion to that man was worse.
   In the night, in a dead sleep, out of nowhere, his scar burned, tearing its way through to his brain, and he woke, knowing everything was going to hell in an instant. Had France fallen, then? But that was minor to the immediate threats. He kept his mind to himself, in himself, and heard the bastardization of a man lumber through the home, down the steps to his room, and pause.
   "Bars? What is this, Harry? What have you done to warrant this?" Everything had been going so well. He didn't need this mess added in. He huddled against the far wall, as though any bit of distance he could put in would lessen something. And it did, it was true, but this wasn't enough space for it. He couldn't breathe, and tried to center his brain around the feeling of wood beneath his feet.
   "I know you're in here. How does he get in?" Harry couldn't even shake his head, unseen in here, but he wanted to. "How does he get in there? Harry, answer the question."
   "Yes, Master, portkey," he whispered, fainter than death, but the Dark Lord heard him regardless.
   "Portkey?" He was thinking about this, and Harry could feel him growing angrier by the second. "And where does he keep it? Answer the question."
   "I don't know." That was kind of the point.
   He could feel Riddle's displeasure at having to work this out himself. He wasn't very impressed with Harry's uncle. And portkeys made him angry. Dangerously angry.
   He vacated the man, and Harry heard his uncle drop heavily to the floor and stay there, but he was alive, Harry could feel that. Desperate, he left his own for Riddle's mind, just as the Dark Lord was walking through his fireplace. To here.
   Harry jumped up, tears already forming. And his uncle, unconscious in the hall outside his room. Harry felt him do something Out There, something magic and it flowed, surrounding everything, like barriers. Or wards. And they were layered over each other. Then the sound of metal, frighteningly like chains. Riddle ripped open the bars at Harry's door, and then the door itself, making metal scream and wood groan loudly. He closed it behind him with a wave, somewhat sloppy and backhanded, and wood and metal meshed messily and loudly. Harry covered his ears to it all, and buried his head in his knees.
   "I don't like this, Harry. I feel far too exposed in here." Harry scooted back, feeling pain again, after so long without. "You're rotting in your own filth." And he banished everything from the room, all Harry's filth, and following it was wonderful fresh air from outside. Actual outside. Harry could smell dying grass in there, the fresh chill of autumn, with leaves decaying. And it was lovely, really. Harry heaved it in. He was lifted by air and thrown down on the bed, and scrambled to leave it, but was held in place by invisible bonds, as Riddle pulled his robe open and dropped it, revealing his grotesque pale flesh.
   "A very stupid man, Harry. How can he fail at something so easy? He kept you alive for years, didn't he?" Harry screamed in silence as the beast covered him. Just like old times. And the deep sigh that accompanied it. Harry panted for more air, and screamed as before. His throat was burning as though he was really using it. "He's killing you. I'll have to speak with him. And come more often. It's been a long time, hasn't it? I've been very busy, but that's all over now. And we'll make up for lost time." Hands ran up along his shoulders, like he was being pushed into the bed, but it wasn't necessary. Just more torture. Harry bit the mattress and groaned through it, making no sound.
   "You're very quiet tonight. I'm not sure I enjoy that, but I'll just have to try harder, won't I?"
   The hand lowered, to his arse, and two fingers pushed inside him, like Riddle was in a hurry. Harry arched back, against the other hand on his shoulder, trying to crawl away from it, and he heard his uncle wake with shouts just a few feet away.
   The stupid man would wake them all. He would get his family killed for it. But would he use his keys to apparate in here? It would have solved a couple of Harry's problems if he did. He was tearing into the casing of the mattress, gripping anything that gave his fingers resistance, just to be fighting something, and another finger was added.
   "I have to stretch you well, Harry. Be patient with me. It's just too much when I'm here, in myself. But I probably don't have to tell you that, do I?"
   God, was he going to use his whole hand again? Harry cried, hopeless and screaming in silence. It just made everything louder, his uncle's noises, which were always so loud to him, and the screaming sighs of the monster on top of him.
   Then thunder on the steps overhead, and Dudley was downstairs, too. Shouting over whatever he saw, but it was just background to the shouts of Uncle Vernon, the frantic words that roared through Harry's head. "Just get me out of these! He's murdering him in there!"
   Harry was chewing his bed, fabric between his teeth and some of it getting swallowed as Riddle lowered his body over him and slid his burning cock between his cheeks, and inside, slowly, gingerly, inching his way in dry. He hissed from it a few times, until he was enough in that he could use his other hand to hold Harry. He pressed on, until he was against him. Then, holding his chest, he lifted him and rolled onto his back.
   "You're light as a feather." Harry stopped breathing as his weight was held against Riddle's body. He would die from this. And that seemed like a familiar thought, but he couldn't handle any more than the initial recognition of it. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. His heart stuttered and burned as it pounded, and he felt like it could just stop right there. Everything became black and heavy. There was a mind right there, calling to him, but that was something to avoid. It had danger signs everywhere, even though it seemed like an old friend. Harry heeded the signs and went somewhere else, somewhere darker, much more peaceful from the looks of it, until he was yanked back, like a ball on an elastic string.
   Still held on top, still wanting but unable to scream from the pain, he moved, but it was a tiny thing; muscles failed to pick up their orders. The prick was out of his arse, but he was on fire. Cum was familiarly leaking out and burning everything it touched, and his chest was hot and tight. He was tossed to the side, and hit the floor dully. Then he breathed.
   "I'll give your uncle a talking to, Harry. I can't have him testing your limits. He was simply supposed to keep you alive. You don't mind if I borrow him, do you?"
   Harry didn't move, just breathed. It was amazing to not be touched by him. That had seemed like an eternity, and he knew it wasn't. But wrapped up in it, it had no end. He listened to it clothing itself. Then there was the crashing noise of perhaps an explosion, but Harry couldn't have seen past the bed if he'd even tried to look - which he didn't. Light flooded the room.
   Then the rolling booms of feet on the steps above, and Harry heard Dudley come into his room.
   "He's gone then?" The sound of metal being set down quietly on wood. "Too bad. Harry. You alright?" Harry was touched and he tried to pull away, but his muscles were still liquid, hardly there at all. He was turned over and looked up at Dudley, who was checking his body for damage. But he wouldn't find any. Harry knew that from looking at himself in the past. He would be nearly unmarked from all that. "It's alright, now. Come here." And he picked Harry up, arms about his shoulders, and pulled him in tight. Harry tightened against it, but his muscles couldn't hold that for long, and he limped out over Dudley, taking everything he would be willing to give him. He just wanted to not hurt.
   Dudley sat back against the wall and held him, setting his legs on either side of his own, and stroked his head. Harry hung against him, not really able to do anything else. "He chained Dad up in the hallway when I came down. And look at what he did to Dad's fancy work there." Harry didn't; he couldn't. He was a rag doll, head on Dudley's shoulder, staring at the towel shelf, arms hanging. He flexed his fingers more to show himself that he still could, and felt his nails digging into his palms. Nice to receive some autonomy, however slowly.
   "I'm sorry. I couldn't do anything." He sounded angry. "All I could do was listen, and you weren't making any sounds. It was the scariest thing." Harry agreed. But then he thought back, to when he'd been in Riddle's room. That had been scarier. Here he was, in Dudley's arms, still in their house, relatively safe. It could have been worse - because it had been.
   Harry turned his face into Dudley's neck and brought his arms up to rest behind his head, trying in some small way to hold Dudley back. It was so nice to be safe.
   "It's alright, now. I've got you, Harry." And he just held him, like he did, like he always did, until Harry stopped shaking, stopped hurting, from everywhere except his arse. That was on fire. And it would be until he could clean it out. Or shit it out. But pain that lessened was always something Harry could see his way around.
   Dudley petted his head in the sweetest way, and Harry was leaning into it once he came back to himself enough to notice it, until Dudley was stroking his back. And that was just as nice. Just as ungreedy.
   Then he tilted Harry's head back and looked at him. Smiled all soft, and looked at Harry's lips as he leaned in, and Harry knew what was happening, but he couldn't pull away. Not from Dudley. He would lose everything in an instant if he did. Everything that made his life bearable.
   Dudley kissed him, soft and tentative, like he didn't want to spook him, and Harry appreciated that much, and held still for him. He kissed him again, longer, licked at his lips, still minding his manners about it all, but his hand was holding Harry's head tighter.
   His other hand lowered over Harry's back, to his hips, and pulled him in closer, rose with his own body as he did so, and kissed him some more. Harry tightened his hold on Dudley's shoulder, wondering if he even had the strength to push himself, his whole body, away. He didn't think so. Dudley pulled their bodies closer, pressing Harry's hips to his own, and kissed him again, letting out a tiny moan.
   "Harry, tell me to stop if you want me to." Harry looked at him, knowing he must have heard that wrong. Dudley knew he couldn't speak. He was smiling at him, and Harry widened his eyes, opened his mouth, trying some weak bit of communication. "I'm just messing with you. It's alright." Harry relaxed, and breathed again. He hadn't been sure there.
   His hand was still on Harry's hip, just as sure, as unmoving, but he was moving up to Harry, giving little grinds that let Harry know Dudley was hard. Harry pulled up, searching his cousin's face. "I said it was alright, Harry, right? I won't ever hurt you." That had to be true. Harry planted his hands about Dudley's neck and clung harder, hoping it was. "Just hold still, alright?" His hands went down between them, down his pyjamas and Harry pressed his face into Dudley's neck, wishing he could stop this without losing everything. "I won't pull it out. I promise." Harry held on, keeping his face hidden, panting nervously on his skin.
   Dudley's hand was in his clothes, playing with himself, stroking himself under Harry's arse, then he nestled his fist between Harry's cheeks, making him jump. "Just hold still, Harry. It's alright, I said." His other hand was on Harry's head, still petting. He held his hand in place and thrusted into it, lodged between Harry's cheeks, but through a layer of fabric. Harry dug his fingers into Dudley's shoulders, shaking, but staying still for him.
   "That's real good, Harry. You wanted to be mine, didn't you? Bet you would have been so good for me. Wouldn't you?" He pulled Harry's face out of its hiding place and kissed him, moaning softly as he did. His thrusts came quicker, and his hand started to move again, pumping himself under Harry.
   Harry was terrified, but he knew Dudley wasn't hurting him, and going to great lengths to not do so. He wasn't taking from him, and the New Dudley didn't do that. Harry kissed back, finally, knowing he owed Dudley for everything, and this far in, it would have been wrong for him to deny him.
   Dudley licked at his lips and he opened his mouth as Dudley slipped his tongue inside, ran it along Harry's like an invitation, and Harry sighed as he followed it back to Dudley's mouth. He used his hold about the boy's neck to pull in closer, and Dudley released his head with a low moan as he lowered his hand to Harry's hip and pulled him in for his thrusts, moving him. He was looking right at Harry as he kissed him. It was becoming less terrifying with every moment. The throaty happy sounds he was making went right through Harry, right to his prick, and he just hoped Dudley wouldn't notice in his excitement.
   Dudley's moans increased, along with the urgency of his hold on Harry's arse. His kisses deepened, as he reached for more, until he came, holding Harry's body hard against his own. He leaned his head back and breathed it in, then he smiled at him, like Harry was the finest thing in the world.
   He pulled out his hand and wiped it on his clothes, then wrapped it about Harry's hips and pulled him closer, if that was possible, pressing Harry's dick into his stomach. His smile broadened more. "You want me to give you a bit of the old five knuckle shuffle? Eh, Harry?"
   Harry frowned at him, then jumped in his arms and pushed at him, trying to get away, but Dudley held tighter. "It's alright, Harry. I told you, you're safe with me. If you don't want me to, I won't." Harry looked up at him, and saw he was telling the truth. He really needed to stop doubting Dudley. A hand returned to his head, stroking.
   He just held him, close and still, and Harry went back to clinging to his neck, hid his face in the crook, and tried to relax against him as he softened from his panic. "You need to stop being afraid with me, Harry. I love you. I'll never hurt you, alright?" He'd said he loved him. And Harry had already known, but it was nice to hear. He would have nodded into his neck, but he couldn't, so he gave it a tiny cautious kiss, and Dudley moaned louder for that, as though it had been better than fisting himself against Harry's arse.
   It warmed and thrilled Harry that he could make Dudley so happy with so little, and he gave him more, careful and spreading them about, and Dudley moved his head about to give him more space to work with. It was getting Harry hard again, and he relied on the promises just made that Dudley wouldn't do anything about it.
   Then his uncle came home, loud and angry, raging his way to Harry's room, and Harry jumped off Dudley and threw himself under the bed. What the hell had he been doing? That was his cousin. Why the hell did his brain just turn off sometimes?
   "Jesus, fucking H. Christ! What the fuck, Dad? Goddamn it!" He shuffled over the floor, moving from where he'd been, retrieving something Harry couldn't see, could only hear.
   "What, was I interrupting something?"
   "No, of course not! Fuck!"
   "You may speak, Harry."
   "Thank you, Master. Always grateful for that," he chattered from under the bed.
   "What was he doing to you in here? Tell the truth, boy."
   "Yes, Master. He didn't touch any of the parts you care about." It felt good to speak again. To be heard. "Thank you, Dudley," he said quickly, before he was silenced again.
   "For what? Not touching the parts he cares about? 'Cause that's what it sounds like." He was joking, Harry could hear it.
   "No." But ... kind of, yes. "Thank you for everything. For being nice to me." Harry wasn't joking. He just didn't know if he would lose the ability to speak any moment, and he needed to say that before it happened.
   His uncle thundered, "I was being nice to you!" He was unimpressed with Harry's little words. But who cared? "Come out! Time for you to eat something."
   "Yes, Master." He crawled out, thoroughly deflated, and sat by his uncle's feet.
   "I don't think he can stand, Dad."
   "Well. That's fine, isn't it? Come here, Harry."
   "Yes, Master," but he was already there. His uncle leaned over him and picked him up. The man was terrified and angry and rattled. Harry didn't even wonder what the Dark Lord had said to him. It had nothing to do with him. He was carried to the kitchen, and winced as he was sat naked on a chair. His uncle brought some cereal out, and a bowl, and poured milk on it, then placed it in front of Harry.
   "Eat that."
   "Yes, Master. All of it?" he spooned some of the milk in, feeling like maybe he really wasn't hungry, but would it matter? At least his bucket had been emptied from all that.
   He was allowed to stop halfway through, before he had to eat any of the cereal that had gone soggy by then, and he begged for a shower, knowing it could cost him dearly, but he just needed to clean his burning hole.
   He was helped to that, and Dudley stayed in the dining room, fuming still. His uncle held him under the stream, and Harry broke down and cried as he asked for an empty bottle to hose himself out with. He was shaking already from the effort, and knew anything could get this man hard. His uncle nodded. "I know. I can feel it. Let me help you."
   "Yes, Master." And when the first squirt was shot into him, he went limp, and his uncle caught him, held him and sat on the edge of the tub. He could probably feel it, and might know when it was mostly cleaned out. Harry went limp against him, and waited for it to be over. The man didn't turn all horny, to Harry's shock. Just helped him out with gentle movements and sounds.
   "Easy, boy, it's alright, now. Just relax, it'll go easier."
   "Yes, Master." There were terrifying moments where his uncle thought things, and was amused by them, but Harry shook his head. "I wish you'd just leave me alone in here."
   "I can help you. I know what you need, boy. Come here."
   "Yes, Master," he said, hopelessly, and his uncle held him close, much like Dudley had, as he sat on the edge of the tub and guided himself by touch to Harry's ring.
   "Easy boy. Now I want you to push it back out, alright?"
   He didn't need to, just eased himself and it happened, embarrassing, loud, messy. But why would he feel embarrassment about anything in front of this bloody pig? His uncle had seen worse from him than this. That helped, and he was fine after. His uncle squirted more in him, and rubbed circles in his back soothingly as he did so.
   "You know, Harry, all I'm trying to do is love you."
   "That's not true. You're a pig, and I hate you. And you always hated me."
   "You're right, I didn't like you. And I was maybe even unfair towards you." Big words from this man. "But I was trying to protect you from those ... those people, you know." And he was backtracking just like that. Protecting? Harry said nothing. He'd already made the mistake of responding, he wouldn't do it again. "The point is, we should be able to move past that, don't you think? Here I am, offering you love, and you're pushing it away with both hands. That seem smart to you?" He patted his back. "There's nothing I wouldn't give you if you would just open up to me, be good, act like you want to be good, and you could have anything. Free run of the house, as much as you can eat, I could even take you out sometimes. That sound nice? Wouldn't you like that?"
   He whispered, "no." He'd had enough of this day, and he just wanted his cupboard.
   "I can give you everything, Harry, if you just let me love you." He kissed the top of Harry's head. "If you just wanted me to love you, boy?" He kissed him again, and for a quick second, Harry shut his eyes and breathed deep, and wondered why he would fight all of this so hard. The potion that LeStrange had given him had been the most evil thing, but when it was in him? Working its magic? That hadn't been too bad. It had been wonderful, even. And it could be like that all the time, if Harry just stopped fighting everything.
   Then he thought of Dudley, who'd just held him very close to this, and had actually given him love. The real kind, not what his uncle was struggling through, which was just a fascination with what his prick could fit into. That's all he was to the man, Harry knew. Knew like he knew nothing else. Uncle Vernon had never, and could never love him.
   "Please, can I just go back to the cupboard?" He was beyond exhausted, limp against the man, and just wanted to not be touched. To not have these things said to him. They sounded more evil to him then than ever before, if only because they almost sounded good at times. Tempting. Life could be a lot easier than it was, but it would cost Harry something he couldn't pay. And perhaps it seemed that in the future, he might cave on it all. He could feel the weakness of it inside, and hoped he would do better as he just grew weaker.
   His uncle nodded, like he was willing to back off, and dried Harry off and carried him to his bed. Laid him down, then ordered Harry to stay in the cupboard, but that was all for orders, and he left. He was a mess, his uncle. Terror, worry, anger. Some other things Harry wasn't interested in. He wasn't interested in any of it. He closed his eyes, and listened to Dudley come in and curl up around him.
   "You alright?"
   "Yeah." And he wasn't made to say anything else. He was allowed to sleep.
   He was brought to the table for breakfast, allowed to sit in his own chair, like a big boy, though he winced at the hardness of the wood. His aunt set food down in front of him, saying nothing, and he ate what he could. He was always more tempted by the water, or tea offered at the table, than the food. Hunger was easier to ignore later on than thirst.
   After one shy look at Dudley, he got a warm smile, and he dropped his eyes as quickly, heating over it. Dudley loved him. Like no one ever had before. It was wonderful. More than wonderful. It was everything. He'd always had Dudley as his family, even in moments when it seemed like he didn't, and memories could be rewritten in that warm new light. Harry picked about his plate and did eat, but not much. He wasn't trying to make himself sick.
   "Can I take him out today? For a walk?"
   "I don't like the idea, Dudders. Those things are out there. It's not safe. And I can't trust you not to just scarper off with him, can I?"
   "We'll come right back. I just want to give him some time outside. He gets none, you know."
   "Yes, I know. I'll think about it."
   Harry had kept his head down for all that, not sure if his reaction would affect the outcome or not. He didn't need to give any signs, one way or the other. But he would have loved to be outside for a time, even if it did sound as though they were talking about a dog who needed access to the yard. He really was no more than that, and he just needed to adjust himself to being such, and this would all be a lot less abrasive.
   "Even just the yard?"
   "I said I'll think about it. Why don't we listen to the news anymore?"
   "Because its all shite, isn't it? It's poison. I hate it, and Harry doesn't like it, either."
   "He doesn't?" Harry felt eyes, and hunched his shoulders up. "Well. I guess I can understand." But if he wanted to hear it himself, then he probably couldn't. Harry had never told Dudley that. But it was true. The news had been painful from the beginning, but meeting that woman had done things, and Harry didn't think he'd heard her voice since then. But it was hard to be sure about such things.
   "How can you know that? Did you ask him?"
   Harr looked up then, curious himself.
   "Didn't you see his face when she was talking to him? You were right there, Dad."
   "Yes, of course."
   "No. You didn't. You were just so hard about being on the telly yourself that you didn't give two shits about it."
   "Dudley! What have I told you about cursing at the table?"
   "I'm sorry, Mum. He just makes me so mad. He's so selfish."
   "He is. But this is still my table. So act like it, please."
   "Yes, Mum."
   Uncle Vernon was thoroughly chastised by that, and fell into a sullen silence. Harry kept his face down, very much afraid of dancing in the man's comeuppance. It could all be taken out on him. He moved his eggs around some more, to be moving. It was the opposite of animal intelligence - stationary caught attention here, and moving went under their radar. He even had a trick of wiping the fork into things and bringing it to his mouth as though he were truly eating. That was always a winner. And it had the added benefit of tasting like eating, for when he was just too full to eat, and knew he should be putting things inside.
   Dudley asked again after breakfast if he could take Harry outside, and Uncle Vernon shook his weighty head. "Can't risk it." Harry wasn't disappointed; he hadn't gotten his hopes up in the first place.
   Dudley set him up with trousers and a shirt again, and that made up for everything. Uncle Vernon stayed close for most of the day, living in the hall outside his room, or walking by frequently enough that Dudley was growing angry about it before Aunt Petunia came back down the stairs from her sanctuary to make the evening meal.
    Harry was invited again for dinner, and he knew he was being fed on the Dark Lord's orders, and wondered if he should refuse to eat. But his family would be punished, not him, if he managed the incredibly lengthy challenge of starving himself to death.
   He ate even more that night, and could actually see the absence of it on his plate. He'd done damage there.
   "Can he sleep upstairs tonight?"
   "What do you care where he sleeps?"
   "I meant, can he sleep in my room? Like he did before?"
   "No." That from his aunt, and Harry was thankful. Even though there was no way Uncle Vernon would have said yes.
   "We won't do anything, Mum. I just want to make sure he isn't getting murdered down here, and I'm tired of sleeping in the hall every night. It hurts."
   "Dudders, you're a sweet boy. You really are. But if something is happening, I don't want you anywhere near it." Harry nodded at that, too.
   "I can protect him, Mum." Harry had fifty thing to say to that, but he remembered how angry Dudley had gotten the last time they talked about this, and he didn't want more of that. "Well, we can go to Harry's room for a while, right?"
   "The one down here. Not up there," his uncle said, and Dudley took it. Stood up and looked down at Harry and waited. Harry got up and followed. He looked quickly at Aunt Petunia, and saw her watching, and hurried up after Dudley. He wasn't sure what she thought, but if she'd seen Dudley last night, she would have been screaming at Harry about it.
   They passed the mangled hole in the wall that used to be Harry's doorway, and stepped into his room. And Dudley was on him instantly, pressing him against the wall, kissing his face all over and pulling his hips forward, insistent and grinding. Harry ducked his head under it all, confused and overwhelmed until he talked himself down from that. This was Dudley. Not anyone else. Dudley loved him.
   He raised his head and answered back in little bits, where he could. Dudley's fervour wasn't something he could even hope to match, but he gave what he could.
   "Maybe I'll come down tonight when they're sleeping."
   "I don't think that's a good idea."
   "You will. God, Harry, I'd make it so good for you. You don't even know." He reached down between Harry's legs and stroked him, and Harry jumped, but he kept quiet. If either of the people in the dining room got up, they would have heard. But they were sitting in near silence out there, awkwardly trying to look like something, still.
   "You think it's bad, but if I could just get inside you, you'd love it, I promise you, Harry." He was getting hard in Dudley's hand, under the kisses that just kept coming; it was a tidal wave. An onslaught. "All I want to do is show you. You have to let me show you how much I want you. How much I love you. You want that, tight?" Harry leaned his head back and soaked up the kisses, and they trailed down his neck, everywhere, and he sighed as Dudley stroked him. "I'll come see you tonight?"
   "I don't think you should, Dudley."
   "You will." He smiled, and Harry smiled, shyly, just a little. He didn't want that. It was worse than Uncle Vernon. He wasn't related to him. Dudley was his actual cousin. This wasn't a good idea. Dudley could see his troubles there, all over his face. He was shit at controlling these things. "You'll be fine, Harry. You're safe with me, you know that, right?" Harry nodded. That hadn't been the problem. Not all of it, anyways. There was a list.
   A chair scraped back in the dining room, and Dudley let Harry go. He sank in place, weak and confused, hiding himself in the baggy trousers. Dudley leaned against the wall beside him and sank as well, sitting beside him and bringing his knees up. Probably to hide his own tent. Harry didn't know. Uncle Vernon came to the room and looked down on them. "Minding your manners?"
   "Yes, Master."
   "I didn't mean you, boy. Dudders? Bed time."
   "Hm." But he got up, for once not arguing with his dad, and left. "Night, Harry." Harry squeaked something out, and stayed in place. "Stay in here. No leaving this room for any reason."
   "Yes, Master." That did nothing to ease his fears. He stared at the floor and waited for the house to still. Aunt Petunia went up to bed, and Uncle Vernon followed after a time, after puttering about the kitchen, showering in the bathroom down here. Then he went up, probably to the bedroom he'd given Harry. Harry didn't want to call it his room anymore. Not if it was Uncle Vernon's new bedroom. He could have it.
   Harry felt like pacing, and let it out. He wished he could leave this room, could hide in the living room or something. He really didn't think he wanted what Dudley did. Just the kisses. Those were beyond nice. They were heaven. Why couldn't he just have those, and nothing else? That was greedy, though. Selfish to even think of asking.
   There wasn't even time for everyone to fall asleep, and Harry's scar burst in pain. Then he really wished he could get out. He ran under the bed, for lack of anything else he could do, and waited, shaking. He heard him come down the steps, heard him sigh as he watched him. He could see him, or smell him, or sense him. Harry didn't really know, but he could tell when he was close, surely the other could as well?
   "Harry, come out."
   "Yes, Master." He crawled out, shaking.
   "You're speaking, tonight? And the bars haven't been replaced. Good. I was ready to be angered again, but everything here is better. Did he feed you today?"
   Harry kept his face down, but when he felt there would just be a command to answer, he nodded.
   "Good. I don't mind them putting you through some discomfort, but to this extent? It's a stretch. We don't need to find out what you can survive, do we? Rise up to your knees."
   "Yes, Master." A hand touched him, and he pulled back from it, hissing.
   "I'll have a lot more free time, now. I've been waiting for so long. And now, everything is working out. Finally." He sounded a little angry over that. Then he just looked at him, enjoying the moment. "It's a shame this form is so limiting. I will put more thought into your next master, Harry. I promise that." Harry shook on his knees, knowing that as much as it hurt to be so close to him, it would be agony in moments. Was Uncle Vernon on borrowed time? "I may even let you weigh in on it. We'll see if you make good suggestions or not. Go out in the hall. I'm tired of stooping here."
   "Yes, Master."
   "Such a tiny place to call home." Harry said nothing, just stood in the hallway, staring at the floor, waiting for everything to become hell.
   "Hands and knees, boy, and take off that shirt."
   "Yes, Master." He lowered, trying to tell himself that the sooner it began, the sooner it was over. And this would give him more time with the bond's requirements. But those were weak thoughts with little compensation. He dropped the shirt to the floor and waited.
   Riddle lowered behind him, groaning slightly with his form, and ran his hands along him, making Harry flinch away from it. "Is this how you want it, Harry?"
   "Just get it over with already."
   Riddle laughed. "Always in a hurry. And we get so little time together." He leaned in close and brought his claws about him, holding him in place. Harry pulled away, knowing how foolish it was, but unable to do anything else. It was pull away or scream, and that wouldn't have been smart.
   "Do not pull away, Harry."
   "Yes, Master," he panted, already at his limit, and knowing that wasn't true, either. He could take more, because he would be. His trousers were lowered with the tiniest of suggestions; they had been held up by nothing before. An arm braced his shoulders against the beast behind, and a hand roamed over his arse, skimming lightly. "So much better in this form, Harry. Even if it is limited. I can think like this." Riddle rubbed his face over Harry's shoulders as he inserted fingers, and Harry bit his lip to keep quiet. If he shouted his family would come down. His actual family, not the weak flesh sack behind him; people who were hopefully sleeping up there.
   "You're trying to be agreeable? Have you been receiving training here? Is that what the bars were about? You, learning your place? He couldn't be that good, could he?" Maybe he was. Harry had learned a lot about his place here. His place in this life. Another finger was worked into him, and he shook, but kept quiet as he was stretched. It didn't take long. Not really. It just always seemed like eons when it was happening.
   The fingers were pulled out, and Riddle replaced them with his, or with Uncle Vernon's dick, slow and careful, and Harry backed himself on him, nearly screaming, and Riddle hissed and backed up, trying to avoid it. "You stop that!"
   "Yes, Master," he panted, nearly frantic, but needing this over. Riddle was the quickest lay, once he got inside. And Harry just needed that to happen. He chewed his lip bloody, and kept quiet.
   Hands ran over his hips, and Riddle stayed close to still as he adjusted himself to this, then he slowly started moving, hands a little tighter on Harry as though he didn't trust the strength of the bond with the command he'd given.
   Then he wrapped his hateful arms about him and forced them down on the floor, moving against him, writhing in his throes, rubbing his face over everything under him, and Harry couldn't breathe, again. His uncle was a heavy man, and Riddle was leaning everything into him. He scratched at the floor, trying to infuse his pain into something that wasn't himself, and wished he could get some of it into his mouth so he could bite it. His lip was a bloody mess.
   Riddle came, straining his body against him, pulsing and hissing and moaning from his blend of pain and pleasure that this always was for him, and pulled out quick with another hiss. Harry clutched at the floor and waited. That was all he could do then, wait for when he might be able to breathe again, and take the tiniest gulps of air he could until then.
   The weight moved, heaved, and it was lifted off him. Harry hid his face, but took some deep careful breaths. It was nice to get air again. He breathed, until arms wrapped around his chest. He tried to get away and heard Dudley say "it's alright." He stopped fighting back, as much as he'd been able, and went with the arms. They would take him home. He couldn't stop shaking even though the pain was leaving as it always did. No matter, the muscles remembered what had happened to them, and were almost liquid.
   Harry was aware of being lifted onto his bed, and curled up tight. Dudley left, and Harry was sorry to hear it, and anxiously listened to him in the kitchen. Then he came back with a glass of water, and helped Harry suck some back with his arm around his shoulders to hold him up. It was more than Harry could handle, and he put his cheek back on the mattress.
   He felt Dudley curl up behind him, felt an arm slip under his head and plant its hand over his chest, as the other hand rested on his hip. Harry sighed heavily and accepted the warmth and affection, even leaned back for more, and Dudley just tightened his wonderful hold.
   "It should have been me." He'd said that before, and Harry wasn't sure if it was true, but he nodded anyways, just a tiny thing lest it cause his cousin to loosen his hold, and was rocked into his hazy fog. He just needed to pass out. Face it all in the morning, when it could all be distant enough that he wouldn't have to. Dudley answered his prayer and stayed still and quiet, like he did, and Harry was allowed to stare blankly at the wall until his struggling heart beat returned to normal, and he could form a thought.
   But by then he didn't need to anymore. He was being rocked to sleep, like a cared for babe, and haze was coming in to surround him. Blessed oblivion. It could have been his favourite thing. He recognized it as it took over, and welcomed the weight of it, the heaviness of not thinking, and his body became numb with it.
   His last thought was for the rocking. That wasn't something familiar enough for this level of comfort, and he came to enough to realize it was Dudley, grinding against him, rock hard but in his trousers still, from the feel. Harry woke fully and pulled away from him before he could think better. Dudley's hand on his chest held him, but the hand on his hip let him buck away, then pulled him back in for the next easy rocking.
   "It's alright Harry. You need to keep quiet, ok? Just keep quiet or you'll wake him." The hand on his hip stroked softly, still holding, and Harry looked back. Dudley leaned in and kissed his neck, close to the little kisses Harry had stupidly given him the night before. And they felt lovely. He could see why Dudley had moved in for them so much. The hand on his hip left and fumbled with pyjamas behind him, and he lurched forward again.
   "Dudley?" But what could he do about it? Dudley was still stroking his chest, still kissing and soft and kind behind him, like Harry was something precious, and Harry hated himself, but he didn't want to give that up for anything. Didn't want to change Dudley into something harsher, which he could do if he did the wrong thing.
   "Shh, Harry. You gotta keep quiet. Alright?"
   Dudley's prick bounced up and hit Harry's cheek, and he flinched forward from it. "Please!"
   "Harry." He brought his hand from Harry's chest up to his mouth, covering it. "You need to keep quiet, or we'll get in trouble. Alright?" Harry gripped his cousin's arm, and was right back in the pit of controlling his breathing. "I won't put it in, k? I just need to touch you. Just a little." His hand was back on Harry's hip, guiding it so he could nestle himself between Harry's cheeks. Harry shot forward again, and Dudley let him, then pulled him back in for more, easily sliding along Harry's already wet crack.
   He went back to kissing his neck, making slightly wet trails as he made a path to his ear. That was nice. Harry wrapped himself about it, until he was calmer, and Dudley just kissed him more as he slid up and down his crack, letting out little moans. Harry's mouth was released, and Dudley covered it with his own, cradling Harry's head in his arm. Harry quickly kissed back, looking Dudley in the eye for his intent. He really just wanted to hear him say again that he wouldn't hurt him. Stupid that he should need to hear it over and over, but whatever. He did.
   Dudley caught on Harry's rim and his grip tightened with intent. Harry looked up at him, hoping he would stop, but Dudley was frowning with concentration. Harry moved his hips away from him, just to be safe, but Dudley followed him, pressing on.
   "Dudley, please, -" and his hand cut him off again, covering his mouth.
   "It's alright Harry. I won't hurt you. I'm just putting it in a little." His hip followed Harry's down to the mattress and held him still there, putting some weight into it as he held his mouth. "Just a little bit, Harry? It'll get good when I'm in." He pushed in, just like he said, just the head, and Harry made some noise through his nose.
   "Harry. Be quiet. Please. You'll wake him up. He's just out there in the hall." He pulled out with a heavy sigh and pushed in again, just a little. "Perfect, Harry. Just be good." He pulled out again, then in, again just a little, though why that would make a difference Harry didn't know. It was still happening. He gripped Dudley's arm and tried to stay quiet.
   Dudley kissed the back of Harry's neck, tonguing and sucking at bits. He kissed his way to Harry's ear, then back, as he fucked himself inside gradually, deeper every time, until he had his hips tight against Harry's arse, and held still there, pulse beating quickly against Harry's innards. "God, Harry. Perfect. Like I knew you would be, though. I've wanted this for so long. For years." He moved, grinding himself against Harry slowly, with small movements. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"
   Harry shook his head in Dudley's hand, still clutching, wide eyed. It didn't hurt, and Dudley was kissing him again.
   "Good. I told you I wouldn't. Didn't I?" Harry nodded. "I said it would be alright?" and Harry nodded again. Dudley pulled back, holding him tight as he did, until they were both on their sides again. He kissed Harry's face and released his mouth. Harry was panting, and Dudley tilted his head back, and Harry jumped for his face, kissing at him, begging for some more of the reassurance Dudley would give him.
   And he did, parting Harry's lips with his own, and Harry licked at his tongue eagerly when Dudley gave it to him. He was still clinging to Dudley's arm, shaking. Dudley moaned quietly as he pulled out slowly, then back in, long full strokes that dragged at his walls. The hand on his hip guided him, pushed him forwards then pulled him back for it, and Dudley kissed him again, this time back at Harry's neck, with his little angel kisses, and his sweet moans quiet against Harry's flesh.
   "Where is it, Harry?" He shifted about in his slow thrusts, like he was looking for something, and Harry understood, but couldn't imagine why Dudley would. But what could he need to understand when Dudley was sucking at his neck like that? And then Dudley found it, ground the head of his cock against it, and Harry choked out some clumsy noise over Dudley's face. "Harry." Harry nodded quickly. He would be quiet.
   Dudley's hand moved forward, wrapping itself about Harry's prick, and Harry grabbed his arm, still tying to be quiet. He looked back at him, trying to pull away. "Harry. Just be good." Then he ground against that spot again, and Harry shot forward into his hand, making more noise. Dudley's hand came back to his mouth, "I told you to be quiet, Harry." He clamped it tight and pounded into him, blinding him, and Harry couldn't help but ride into Dudley's hand every time. He gripped Dudley's wrists, both of them, and moved with the thrusts, meeting them as much as he could, working his arse along Dudley's length frantically. Every move was heaven. He curled his body about the fist holding his cock, needing whatever Dudley would give him. All he had to do was except it. And it was happening.
   Dudley stroked him in time with his thrusts, hitting deep every time he reached the base of Harry's cock, and nearly pulling out by the time he cupped his palm over the head of it, tight fist twisting expertly for every pull and stroke. And Harry was working his body blindly between the two points, knowing that, and the mouth kissing his neck his shoulders, his chin. Dudley was raining down on him more than he could take, and it was pure love.
   Everything built and tightened, and he came, moaning through his nose until Dudley clamped his hand over that, too. But Harry didn't care. He didn't need to breathe to cum. Dudley kept pumping him until he was done, making his body jerk away from him, further onto his cock and then he eased up, letting Harry breathe again, and releasing his prick. Every bone in his body eased, and Harry sagged in exhaustion.
   Dudley still kissed at his neck, giving Harry a cloud to ride down from it on, and he soaked it all up. Everything Dudley gave him was only ever love. Then Dudley lifted his hand, the one that had just jerked him off, over them, and behind, and he followed it with his eyes to Dudley's mouth, where he was smiling, looking right back at Harry and licking it clean. Like a cat licking up cream. It made his dick twitch, though that was all it could do.
   Dudley pulled out, and Harry felt empty, as he was pulled to his back. Dudley got between his legs and Harry made more room for him as Dudley shoved back inside, lowering his face to Harry's as he did, demanding more deep kisses. Harry answered every one, following with his face and raising his arse to help Dudley out. He rested his legs behind Dudley's back and crooked them together to keep them still.
   Dudley pounded him then, earnestly trying to get somewhere, and Harry answered every thrust as much as he could. He reached up and grabbed Dudley's face and held on so his mouth wouldn't leave.
   "You want me, Harry?" He nodded to the nearly silent question. He did. "You want to take it, don't you?" He nodded again, still sucking at Dudley's tongue. He spoke so quiet, right into Harry's eager mouth, but Harry could make out every word, and ate it up. "I knew you would. I just had to get inside. Then you would take it all, right?" Harry nodded again. "Oh my god, Harry." He pulled out again, and Harry held his face, but it was pulled away, and Dudley rocked Harry back onto his side, quickly getting himself in him again, and kept up the pace he had before, until he blew, gripping so hard Harry almost cried out.
   Dudley held him, and stayed inside, stayed still as his breathing calmed. "God, Harry. Forever." Harry nodded, and Dudley laughed as quietly as he'd spoken. "Is that all you can do?" Harry nodded again, and they both chuckled quietly. "You don't understand. And I need to tell you this before I can't. Before I scare myself from saying it. It was that dementor. It showed me every horrible thing I've ever done to you. And how you just quietly loved me anyways, the whole time. And it messed me up. For months. I couldn't think about anything else, but what a worthless piece of shit I am." He stilled and perhaps fell into that. Harry stayed quiet, not knowing what he could say. There wasn't much he could have offered, really.
   Dudley moved again after a time, hands again coming to life over Harry. "And I knew that I could never do anything about it. Stupid little cups of tea left at your door? I knew it would all look like traps or tricks or shit. But I couldn't do nothing. I knew I would never have a chance. Because of how I treated you."
   His arms tightened, wrapping around him, holding him in love, and he ground his softened prick inside, like he was trying to get up a second wind. "And I have you now." Harry nodded, though that wasn't entirely true. But it could be for just the moment.
   "I watched so much porn, thinking about you. I even." He laughed, breath rolling over Harry's neck. "I even read books for you, to know how to do it all right." Harry moved. "Parts of books, anyways. You know." He didn't. Did one need to read about sex to be able to do it?
   Although, if Harry was comparing. And he wasn't. But if he was, then Dudley had done worlds better than his father. Vernon, Harry was beginning to suspect, could have been the lousiest lay in the country. Selfish, quick, needy. And self hating, perhaps. Harry was still on the fence about that. Not that he thought about it.
   "Then they came and said they had you, and you needed to be a slave for Dad. And I thought this was my chance. I could fix everything. But they didn't listen." He was getting a little louder, and quieted down again. "They never listened to me, and Dad just stood in my way." Harry couldn't believe any of this. It was sick, really, but whatever. He'd just done something far more sick. And he'd loved it.
   Dudley fell quiet again, for a longer time. But he still held him tight and Harry loved him even more for that. In the silence his muscles all turned to liquid gratitude, and he went limp in the warm arms, knowing comfort for the first time in weeks, knowing love for the first time since he'd come to this home as an infant.
   And there it was. The single most beautiful moment of his life, and Dudley had given it to him. It was sweeter even that the first golden snitch he'd caught, it was sweeter than anything, and tainted heavily with shame, but Harry pushed that away for then. He could bring it all back when he was alone again, but right then, he was held, warm, loved, encased in Dudley's body and held. He fought off sleep as long as he could, just to let it all last longer, but sleep came, with Dudley's arm as a pillow, and his body as a blanket. Sleep had to come, Harry had never been so "tucked in" before in his life. Not that he could recall, anyways.
   He woke when Uncle Vernon groaned loudly in the hall, coming to. Dudley extracted his prick from the sticky mess and pulled up his pyjama bottoms, but stayed where he was. Harry gripped him tight and stayed still, waiting for whatever it would be. Uncle Vernon got up with another groan, and stumbled to Harry's room, stood there looking. Both of them were pretending to be asleep.
   "I know you're awake."
   Harry curled in tighter, and clutched so hard Dudley actually tried to pull his arm back, and Harry just dug his fingers in more. "It happened again, didn't it?"
   "I don't know what you're even talking about."
   "Harry, tell me. Did it happen again?"
   "Yes, Master. Yes. It did."
   "Did it ... Do you need a shower?"
   "No." Just Dudley. He didn't need to explain anything to him, not in Dudley's arms, of how it only burned like that afterwards when it was Riddle's actual body. But right then he was in heaven.
   "Dudders. Bed."
   "Please!" He heard himself and made his voice quieter. "Let him stay, please." He was gripping him again, and Dudley was holding him tighter, like he knew Harry needed that. He lifted the hand under Harry and stroked his head. And he could feel his uncle grow angry. And other things, but he didn't care about those. He only needed to know when the man was angry or horny. Nothing else mattered. He was a cardboard cutout, with two essential colours.
   Uncle Vernon left then, and took his anger upstairs. Harry eased his grip, but didn't release the arm, just held it, and Dudley stroked him for a long time. Until he pressed himself against him and hummed, and Harry wasn't sure how to feel about it. "You can tell if he's sleeping, right?"
   "Yeah. He isn't."
   "Too bad. What else can you tell about him?"
   "He's angry." And sad. Stupid git.
   "Stupid fucker. I should have been railing you this whole time. Ever since you got back. What a waste of time." He held him tight and ground himself against him, but stayed in his clothes. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to reach behind and pull them down or pull away, so he opted with staying put.
   "I'll fix this, Harry. Whatever it takes. And it'll just be you and me and Mum. If she's nice. I'll make her be nice to you." Harry smiled at that. Dudley make his mum be nice to someone? That sounded like Old Dudley and New Dudley coming together, and what a formidable beast that would be.
    When Aunt Petunia rose Dudley left him, but it didn't feel as hollow as Harry thought it would. Dudley's cum in his ass was with him, and Harry felt that was love as much as anything the other had done for him, and told himself that Dudley hadn't really left him.
   Then the events of the night returned in all their horror, but what Dudley and he had done came back like balm, surprising Harry. He'd expected shame and regret, but it was only gratitude he felt looking back at it. Dudley had given him something to erase everything that went before, and even if it didn't, didn't even come close, it was still something Harry could cling to. And he did.
   He was invited again for breakfast, but it was a different thing suddenly. He needed to keep his face down, instead of just wanting to. And he heated over the stupidest things, with no control over it. He very much didn't look at Dudley, but knew the other was watching him. And that heated him again. And it was all just lovely; Harry didn't question or scrutinize it. It was a little bit of sunshine for him, and he took it, knowing it would be crazy to not accept.
   Dudley again tried for outside time, but Uncle Vernon was particularly surly that morning. Then Dudley started to give his dad shit for not clothing Harry. Never doing anything for him, and Harry was hunching again from it all. Why couldn't Dudley just let things be, and work with that?
   "What the hell do you think we've been doing for him, nothing? He's only alive because we agreed to keep him. Again."
   "You're wrong!" Harry started at the vehemence and anger from Dudley. "He's keeping us alive! How stupid are you? You think we're alive because they like us? They don't like any of us, and they're always saying they want to kill us all! And they will if we're not useful to them!" Harry couldn't believe Dudley's powers of deduction here. It was more than he normally let on he was capable of. "All you are to them is a big stupid animal that can hurt Harry. That's all!" His uncle sputtered over this, not arguing, and Harry had to suspect it was because he knew what Dudley was saying was true. Because if he thought any differently, there was no way Dudley would have convinced him otherwise.
   "Dudders!" Aunt Petunia broke in. "That can't be true. Peop - muggles can't mean nothing to them!" But it was said too nervously to be taken as her Truth. She knew. And Harry had to admit that he hadn't thought of it this way before, himself. After everything, he was the one keeping his family alive. And Dudley was the one to know it. Was that why he was so nice to him? No, Harry quickly pushed that ugly thought away and found something to convince it to stay in the corner: Dudley knew they were wanted to torment Harry - and he wasn't.
   And he could.
   Harry wrapped himself in that, needing it more than he needed air. Dudley cared about him, like no one ever had. Had held him like no one ever had.
   They stole quick little moments in the day to snog, mostly in Harry's room, while Dudley's parents lived their pointless lives as well as they knew how in the rest of the house. Harry ate it up until he was wishing he had ways of getting Dudley alone as well. But he was a nothing, and he could only wait for it to be given out to him.
   And again, after dinner, where he had again been allowed to sit and eat, Dudley asked if they could go to Harry's room for a bit.
   "Yeah. The one down here, though."
   "Yeah, we know. Bloody toss pot."
   Uncle Vernon took that on the chin, simmering to himself as Harry followed Dudley to his room. He was backed up to his wall, and wrapped his arms happily around him, but he quietly interrupted before Dudley's lips could find their way home. "You shouldn't make him angry like that, Dudley. He could get mean."
   "Mean?" Dudley stared at him, and it dawned on him what Harry meant. "Oh. You mean to you. Right. Sorry, Harry. He just has me so angry. All the time. More anger than I know what to do with."
   Harry pressed his lips to Dudley's, and everything melted away. Hands made their appearance, tracked their trails, and Harry melted for them, eager for everything Dudley could give him in a quick minute. When Dudley cupped him through his trousers Harry pressed himself forward for him, and Dudley bit him lightly in approval, right under his ear. Harry humped his hand and leaned forward when Dudley slipped his hand down the back, giving him more room, then rode his arse back for the finger that was looking around.
   And it all crashed in a heartbeat when Harry's scar split open. Again. He hissed, pulled away, and Dudley just tightened everything, misinterpreting.
   "Dudley," he gritted out, "get your mum upstairs!"
   "What?"
   "Now!"
   From the kitchen his aunt said, "Vernon?" She sounded worried.
   Dudley stared at him, not doing anything. "He's here. In your father. Please, just get your mum upstairs and stay there." It was earlier every day. Harry held his head and hoped Dudley would do it, but he didn't seem to be doing anything. "Dudley!" He shouted, and groaned for it. "Get your mum upstairs, now!"
   "Dudley?" Aunt Petunia came to the room, shaking. "Come with me, please." Dudley stared at her, too. What was wrong with him?
   "Harry." A vicious whisper from the dining room. Harry tried to think. It was so hard when his head pounded like this. But he left them, made his shaky way to the table, where his uncle was standing, smiling. "Good boy, Harry."
   "I wish you would come when they're sleeping, at least."
   "I'm making the most of my free time. I don't know how long it will last. Should my life be regulated by muggles and their sleep schedule?" He laughed his empty husk of a laugh. "Do you hear yourself sometimes?"
   Dudley came into the kitchen, shouting, and Aunt Petunia behind him, and Harry turned and screamed, "Dudley! He'll kill you. Dead. Just get upstairs, please. God, just do it."
   Riddle spoke through his uncle to Dudley, "and you think you could have been his master? Look at you, throwing a tantrum like a child."
   "I'm not a child, you fucking prick! Just get out!"
   "Dudley! Get out! Upstairs."
   Dudley finally looked at him, finally seemed to hear him. "Right, Harry. Upstairs. God, I'm bloody useless sometimes, aren't I?" He nodded, and turned to his mum. "Come on." He looked back at Harry, sending him something, but Harry couldn't interpret Dudley's looks. He could only nod and refrain from saying something stupid like see you in a bit. Aunt Petunia took his hand and they were gone. Harry heaved in relief at that, and he was pulled in by hands that burned.
   "I'm not ready to take you home, or I would. But that boy is almost annoying, Harry. Does he mean anything to you?" It was a bone chilling question. Could have been if he means something to you, I'll not hurt him, but infinitely more likely, can I see you cry by killing something?
   Harry didn't answer, and the creature stood up, pulling him in for one of his embraces, ran his hands along Harry's back, then backed him down the hallway. He turned at Harry's hole in the wall, and backed him in there. Harry was shaking, but he had to take his tiny victories. His family was safe. For the immediate future. He was pushed so he landed back on his little bed and steps rumbled overhead, shattering Harry's fragile peace. Dudley had changed his mind?
   Harry pulled away and looked around his uncle's hips at Dudley, who was pointing a gun. And he stopped thinking. Riddle turned, and the noise was deafening. It was the last thing Harry would ever hear, he knew, as everything else was a scream that resonated perfectly with the pounding of his head. Those two were made for each other.
   Then his chest exploded with the pain, through his uncle's body to him. But it wasn't the worst thing in the world. It would offer some peace. Poor Dudley. Harry should have told him more about the bond, but he wouldn't have to think about that anymore. Just some blinding pain and then nothing. He could deal with that.
   He opened his eyes, because he couldn't hear anything, and Dudley was over him, shouting from the feel of it. Spittle raining down. Harry tried to give him a smile, so Dudley would know not to blame himself. He hoped he pulled it off. But he was certain he'd failed at that, too, so he said it, "thank you Dudley." The boy heard that, even though Harry couldn't. The gunshot had deafened him. But he didn't need ears where he was going.
   Then he felt the last heartbeat of his uncle. Or rather, the moment after it stopped, dead silence and then pain exploded everywhere, even as he felt every command the man had ever given him melt away into nothing. It was Freedom. It was outside. And he got to feel it in his last moments. Another perfect moment, thanks again, to Dudley. He closed his eyes and welcomed the inferno, more than ready.

A/N jeeze. Sorry for the delay here, but Snape just won't do what I want him to. Stubborn fucker. So much just got deleted, and I'm starting fresh. It's going forward. Really.
- 16
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I Don't Think You're a Waste of Space