'Merlin! Is my clock slow or something?'

A very excited Harry Potter was staring desperately at his old alarm clock. One of Dudley's broken ones (and by broken, I mean that the power went out one night and the time got screwed up). The red numbers told Harry it was only 9:30, his sixteenth birthday was only 2 hours 29 minutes and 46 seconds away. Not like he was counting or anything. No, of course not.

Normally he wouldn't be this excited about his birthday. But this year would be different. This year, Lucius Malfoy was going to take him away from the Dursleys. Harry wasn't sure if he was staying at Malfoy Manor or not, but he didn't care.

It wasn't as if he didn't trust Lucius. He trusted the Malfoy, his wife, and surprisingly enough, his son whole-heartedly they were like an even closer knit surrogate family to him (hell, draco refused to call him anything but his brother). Granted, it was more than a shock to see three of Voldemort's most loyal servants fighting to take the life of their precious master. He and Draco grew close over the summer months. Probably closer than the Golden Trio. Hey, it wasn't Harry's fault that Draco was able to weasel out Harry's secrets that not even Ron or Hermione knew about. So it wasn't too surprising when Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy put living with them on the table. Harry was set on moving with the Malfoys. He was ecstatic actually. It would be like having a family, and having never had a proper one, Harry was more than ready to experience it. But he was more than relieved that he would no longer remain in the Dursley house-hold.

And the reason was drunk (again) and stormed into his room. A drunken Vernon Dursley was not a force to toy with.

"Oi, b-boy! On your knees" Vernon hissed. His breath was putrid, it smelled of strong alcohol and fish. Oh, today must have been a good day at the office.

It was always like this. For the past 7 years of Harry's muggle uncle would barge into his room (or cupboard in some cases) drunk and frustrated. And all of that frustration went into the process of breaking Harry time and time again.

Today was no different.

"I said ON YOUR KNEES BOY!" Vernon marched (more like waddled) over to where Harry laid on the on his bed and grabbed a fist-full of hair, forcing Harry out of bed and onto the floor. His knees hit the floor so hard that Harry knew that getting up after would most likely be impossible without a large amount of pain.

Harry tried to squirm away from his fat uncle. But that only accomplished getting a beefy hand slapping him in the face. The man dropped his pants and made Harry undress himself. When harry was naked, Vernon ran his fat hands all over his slim hips. Then he grasped Harry's hips and turned him around and forced him to the ground. Harry decided he was going to block it out. All of the pain. The humiliation. The feeling of being nothing but a dirty object. Everything.

Harry thought of what life would be like living with the Malfoys. How he and Draco would be able to play Quidditch during the summer like real brothers would. How, he'd have a home and a family to go home to during the holidays. It was rather amusing that he defeated the darkest wizard of all time but he could fight off his bloody muggle uncle.

Then…he screamed and the world and all his thoughts went black.

When Harry awoke, he was in more pain then he could ever had remembered. Even worse than the first time his uncle assaulted him. His backside felt like it was torn apart. He was drenched in sweat, blood, and cum. Most of it was his, save for the later, no cum came from him, Harry wouldn't allow the sick bastard that satisfaction.

A strange grunting noise from his bedside seemed to distract him from the pain momentarily. He didn't dare look though. It was fairly obvious what-no-who it was.

Vernon was probably redressing. Harry wanted so much to kill the bastard at the moment. But he didn't have the strength.

Finally, the noises stopped, and Harry felt eyes drilling through his head. "By the way boy. Happy fucking birthday." And with the sound of loud footsteps, he was gone.

Harry was too shocked to do anything. Not because his uncle who hated his guts actually wished him a happy birthday (as rude as it may have come out) but because it was his birthday. 'No, it couldn't be!' Harry gathered all the strength he could muster, and flipped himself over so he was facing the clock.

2:02 AM

It was indeed Harry's birthday, he was sixteen.

For one brief moment, Harry was pleased with himself. Then all of the past four and a half hours (what he remembered at least) came crashing down on him like an Atom Bomb. The pain. The humiliation. The anger. The disgust. The pain. The blood. The filth. Did he mention the pain? Harry laid there on his bed, broken, bleeding, and crying for the better part of two hours. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't bloody take it! He was the Damned Boy-who-lived, the boy-who-defeated-Voldemort! And he couldn't fight off a ruddy muggle! Of course not. Because to fight down a muggle so large required magic which he was still not allowed to do outside school.

To make things worse, he was alone. Completely alone. His Aunt or Cousin paid no never mind to him. After all, why should a freak like him bother such normal people with minute problems like rape? Plus they wouldn't believe that NORMAL Vernon Dursley would do that to his freakish nephew. And then there were his friends. Sure he trusted Ron and Hermione completely, but Harry couldn't-WOULDN'T-tell them about this. Only Draco knew about this and even though the blond wanted to help, Harry was reluctant to accept it. And then there was his parents…oh GOD his parents. Two people he'd known for a mere year. They'd be tossing in their graves if they saw the state their only son was in!

Oh how good it would feel to be in his parents arms and actually remember it.

And then….

He cracked.

Harry jumped out of bed with such a desire to see his parents that everything he felt was forgotten. He threw on the first pair of clothes he touched and ran straight down the stairs. Harry went straight for the cupboard under the stairs, pulled out his school trunk and sprinted out the door.

All Harry wanted was his parents to hold him. Merlin how he wanted it!

Then, just like that, a white, warm light surrounded Harry, and he felt a really hard tugging sensation at his navel.

'God's I hate portkeys!'