Who I Am

Chapter 11

Holding Out for a Hero

BAM. "HARRY!" Vernon's scream echoed through the house. His voice alone was enough to make me quake with fear, he needn't scream.

"Yes sir?" I looked over my shoulder to see him.

"Bedroom!"

I got up and began toward my bedroom as a punishment for who-knows-what.

"No!" I looked back at him. "MY bedroom!"

Oh hell no. . . My fear became visible now. I shook my head at him rapidly. "Wh-why?" I choked back a sob.

Vernon grabbed my arms and pushed me into the room, slamming the door behind him. My step-father then pulled me close enough to whisper in my ear: "By yourself, huh?"

He knew? How could he possibly know?

I pushed away and tried to make a break for it. He grabbed me with one arm and threw me against the foot of the bed. I yelped as he hit me on the head with a statue he had sitting on the vanity. The now broken statue left me dazed enough not to put up a fight anymore.

It became evident to me by the next day that sex was turning into a punishment for me; it wasn't just for Vernon's pleasure anymore. He had picked up on my sobs of anguish each time he did me, he knew I hated it, hated him. Now he used it to his advantage.

I turned over so I wasn't facing Vernon and wrapped the blanket around myself. I let the silent tears flow from my face and soak in the sheets around me. I could feel the bruises rising on my pale skin. This wasn't fare. . . Nothing was fare.

- - -

"Harry! What happened to your face?" Ron reached out and touched the bandage on my forehead.

"What do you think happened?" I growled.

"Oh Harry. . . I'm so sorry," he said as he continued to stroke my bandage absent mindedly.

"Have you got a plan yet?"

"Just that you aren't going back to that house again."

"I have to pack, though!"

"I know that," he waved me off. "It will be fine. We'll go when he's not there."

". . . He's not there now," I arched an eyebrow.

"Are you actually suggesting that we skip? You?"

"Duh. This is enough of a reason to, isn't it?"

"I know, it's just. . . You?"

I laughed. "I can be as much of a rebel as you, Ronald Weasley."

"I have never been more attracted to you."

"HA! You admit it!"

Ron stood and took one of my hands. I nearly froze and began to blush at the touch of his rough hands on mine. Whoa. What was I now, a giddy little schoolgirl? Well. . . That's almost true. Okay, maybe it's completely true, but. . .

"We'll talk more about this at your place, what do you say?"

I beamed. Ron was truly my hero.

- - -

I opened the front door of my house and held it open for Ron. "I just need a few things. It won't take long." I stopped for a moment and smiled. "And I guess this is as good time as any to thank you. You've helped me in more ways than you know."

"Really?" Ron smiled back. "How's—?"

That's when I heard the garage door open and panicked. I looked away from Ron and listened, praying with all my might that it wasn't Vernon.

"Dad?"

I rubbed my temples and sighed. The human migraine had come back. . .

"He's at work! It's Wednesday for Christ sake!" I shouted.

Dudley appeared at my door just as Ron disappeared. "I was just checking. What are you doing here, Fag?"

"Having a tea party." I rolled my eyes and opened another drawer to begin packing.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"No, I'm just giving all my worldly possessions to the needy."

"That's so funny I forgot to laugh."

"Yes, I am leaving and I'm not coming back." The anger was rising again. I was becoming very impatient with the man.

"Dad kicked you out, eh?"

"No, I'm leaving by my own free will."

"It's about time you left. Why you were around this long, I'll never know. . ."

I stopped packing for a moment and chuckled. "You want to know why? I'll tell you why!" I stood up in front of Dudley, looking him in the eyes. "Because I'm so damn good in bed, that's why. Your father thought I was a good lay, so he kept me around." I smiled up at him as his face grew red. "That's right, Dudley. Your father's just like me."

"You liar!" Dudley just watched me, dumbfounded. The look on his face made me laugh out loud.

"Dudley at a loss for words! A Polaroid moment!"

I saw his fist come toward my face and cringed, ready for the blow. However, the blow never landed. I opened my eyes to see that Ron had caught Dudley's fist just before it could collide with my face.

"That your Prince Charming?" asked Dudley.

"Whose business is that?" answered Ron, continuing to glare at my step-brother.

Dudley pulled away from the red-head's grip and began storming out.

"I'm not giving you queers long to get out!" his voice echoed through the house.

"It won't take long!" I shouted back. "I can hardly wait!"

"Neither can I!"

"Who's he?" Ron said in my ear.

"My step-brother, Dudley." I closed the door behind Dudley and went back to packing. "He hates me worse than anyone, and I hate him equally as much." While laying out a shirt and carefully folding it, Ron came up behind me. One hand rested on my shoulder while the other snaked its way around my waist. I closed my eyes and leaned into him. The hand that had been on my shoulder traveled down my arm and took my hand.

"What was it we were talking about before being so rudely interrupted?" asked Ron gently into my ear.

I thought for a moment I may swoon or tremble from the contact. "Well, we . . . were thanking each other. . ."

"Yes! I was beginning to ask how I'd helped you so much."

"Y-you helped me come out and be myself. I-I was n-never able to just be myself. . ." I paused to laugh here. "Listen to me stutter! How embarrassing." I pulled my head back to look up at my best friend. "Well, I didn't have the courage to be myself before I met you. Now I do. Thank you." I hesitantly took his hand. To my surprise, he didn't pull away. "I may not have you physically, like I want, but. . . You still gave me a gift. I don't know how to thank you."

I felt his strong arms tighten. "May I make a suggestion?"

Before he could make that suggestion I heard the backdoor open.

"HARRY!" Vernon's voice roared through the house.

"Oh hell. . ."

"That's Vernon, isn't it?"

"Yes, but what is he doing here? He should be at work!"

"Lunch break?"

Vernon's footsteps echoed through the hall that led to my room. Each step made me shake with fear. He must have seen Ron's car. What would he do to him? To me?

"Dad?" For once I was happy to hear Dudley's voice. Maybe he could stall—"Is it true? Are you gay?"

I heard no verbal response from Vernon, only a gunshot. A body fell.

I froze in my movements of packing and turned to Ron. "Hide!"

"No," Ron said coldly.

"Why not? He may kill you! He already killed his own son! I don't want to loose you!" I ran forward and grabbed the front of his shirt. My body quaked with fear.

The door to my room opened. Vernon's dark figure stood with a handgun in his right hand. "I knew it. You were planning on leaving me, weren't you, Harry-boy?"

A/N: Why, you ask? BECAUSE I CAN! The next chappy will be a bit more dramatic than the story has been so far. Just because. It may be a little corny, but I don't really care. . .