Title: Nowhere To Go

Author: Roslyn Drycof

Chapter: One: The Pretty-Boy-Who-Was-A-Weakling

Rating: R (because of mature themes)

Warnings: non-graphic child abuse, non-graphic rape; future themes of cutting, thoughts of suicide, slash

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Summary: What if you were trapped in a situation from which there was no escape? Both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are imprisoned by memories of pain they can't run from. Can they help each other find peace? HPDM. Non-graphic child abuse. Slash.

Disclaimer: The usual disclaimer which says I don't own Harry Potter in any way possible in this dimension (or in any dimension, for that matter)

He was coming. His heavy footsteps approached the cupboard under the stairs, a raspy chuckle of anticipation sounding in the quiet of the night. It was one of those nights.

Harry Potter huddled in his "room", his heart pounding and his thin frame trembling. He clenched his teeth tightly, trying to keep himself from crying out in fear. Uncle Vernon liked his cries.

The door to the cupboard slammed open and Harry vainly tried to suppress a flinch. His uncle loomed in the opening, a leer twisting his bloated face. "Boy, get out here."

Swallowing harshly, the raven-haired boy obeyed. It was always better if he obeyed. Otherwise. . .Vernon liked to get violent. "Spiced things up," he said.

Vernon's heavy paw of a hand clamped down on Harry's shoulder, forcefully propelling him towards the small bedroom off to the side of the den. It had been built right before Harry came back from sixth year, built just for one purpose. For Vernon's secret "fun".

The sixteen year old wizard was thrown onto the bed that took up half the small room, his face being buried into the pillow as his uncle held him down. Bruises that were slow to fade protested at the whale-like weight of Vernon, but Harry managed to suppress a moan of pain. Just barely.

He screwed his eyes shut, trying not to think of what was happening. Trying to block out uncle Vernon's sounds of excitement, the meaty hands ripping at his threadbare clothes, the caresses that were anything but gentle or exciting.

"You're so pretty, Boy. . ." his uncle's voice moaned, a hand roaming where it shouldn't.

A few tears trickled out and were absorped by the pillow as Harry felt a burning pain. Why me? Why does this have to happen to me?! It hurts so much. . .

Minutes later, he was freed from Vernon's weight as the large man re-buttoned his pants and left the room with a whispered, "Till next time, Boy."

Left alone, Harry curled up into a ball and began sobbing. He hurt so much, inside and out. Why did his uncle do this to him? And why can't I resist? Fight back?

He remembered the first times, when he did try to fight. But Vernon stole his wand and hid it so Harry was helpless. Without his wand, he was back to being the weakling, the scrawny litle boy in the cupboard under the stairs. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived? Yeah, right. More like Harry Potter, the Pretty-Boy-Who-Was-A-Weakling.

And it was true. How could a 5'8", 130 lb. sixteen year old boy fight a grown man who weighed over 200 lbs.? It was impossible without magic. Not that he'd be able to use his wand if he even had it, being an underage wizard and all. Hadn't he almost gotten in deep shit over using magic a few summers ago?

Because of that stupid rule, here he was. Forced to submit to Vernon Dursley's disgusting advances without any hope of escape. At least he was being allowed to back to school in the fall, under the condition that no one find out. Apparently, Vernon had stumbled across a hit man who specialized in wizard assassinations. And since Harry didn't particularly want to die, he knew he wouldn't tell.

Yeah, he was going to face off against Voldemort again. But he knew how to handle that particular menace. A muggle hit man whom he'd never met before? Too unpredictable, too dangerous.

So he'd go back to school and keep his abuse a secret. That was fine with him. He didn't particularly relish confessing something so humiliating and painful. It hurt too much, was still too fresh. And they wouldn't understand. No one understood anything about him. Not even Ron and Hermione, although they came close.

He was alone, with nowhere to go. . .nowhere to be safe. And until the fall term started, he was all uncle Vernon's. . .

A month later. . .

Harry arrived at the train station at the beginning of the fall term with his uncle walking behind him, a sweaty hand on his shoulder. He felt nauseous with Vernon so close to him. The big man had been following him closely ever since they left the house.

They suddenly stopped in the main lobby of the train station. "Now Boy, you'll remember your little promise?"

Trying hard not to gag as he looked into his uncle's squinty eyes that burned full of lust, Harry nodded. "I remember, uncle Vernon."

"Good, good. Now off to school."

Harry nodded again and headed towards Platform Nine and Three Quarters. His steps were fast and getting faster, until he was practically running towards the brick entrance to the train.

He wasn't watching where he was going and suddenly crashed into someone, knocking them both to the ground. The other person's elbow was shoved into his side as they fell and Harry cried out in pain as it hit a particularly large bruise given to him the night before. Through his pain, he faintly heard the other person cry out in exactly the same way.

Rolling over to lay on his back, catching his breathing, he saw who he'd knocked over. It was Draco Malfoy. He expected the blond to immediately start berating and insulting him. But Malfoy had his eyes shut and a hand clutched to his stomach. His breathing was shallow and his lithe frame, skinnier than it had been at the end of last term, was trembling.

Harry stared at his rival, his eyes wide, until a sharp voice made him look away. Lucius Malfoy stood there, a black scowl on his aristocratic face. "You bloody idiot of a boy! I can't take you anywhere, you clumsy fool! Letting Potter knock you over, how stupid is that?!"

Shock filled the raven-haired teen as he realized that Lucius wasn't yelling at him, but at his own son. He turned his gaze back to Draco Malfoy's and gasped at what he saw. Fear shone in the other boy's eyes.

"So sorry, Father. How stupid of me," Draco muttered, looking down at the ground.

Contempt filled the senior Malfoy's silvery eyes and he stalked over to his son. With a harsh movement, he jerked the teen up until Draco was standing.

To any onlookers, it seemed as if Lucius was simply helping his son to his feet, albeit a little roughly. But Harry knew different. He saw Lucius's hand snake across his son's neck in a hidden caress, saw Draco flinch at the touch. And he wanted to gag.

Horrible memories filled him, memories as fresh as the last night. Memories of meaty hands running through his black hair. Memories of thick fingers trailing down his chest. Memories. . .

"Harry!" A cheery voice called out and a slim hand was clapped on his shoulder.

He tried to keep from flinching, but failed. It was only Ron, his best friend, but he couldn't help from shieing away from his friendly touch.

Thankfully, Ron's attention was suddenly riveted on the Malfoy's, or else he would've noticed his friend's withdrawal.

"Malfoy," he spat.

Lucius sneered, withdrawing his hand from his son's neck. "Oh look, a Weasley. This train station is simply becoming a dump. Good thing this is your last year, Draco, or else I'd be finding different transportation for you next year."

In the past, Draco would've made some ugly comment of agreement, further designed to insult Weasley. But today, he stayed silent and tense.

And normally, Harry would've had some comeback aimed at the senior Malfoy concerning his Death Eater activities or his prison stay, however short that had been. But today, he simply pulled Ron away.

Ron didn't want to go and was a bright red of anger, but Harry managed to get him safely away. Still, his curses were quite vocal and the emerald-eyed teen was sure the Malfoys could definitely hear them. "Rotten, ugly bastards! They have no right to treat my family like that! We don't have money, but at least we're not Death Eater scum who bow to a monster who belongs in Hell!"

Harry didn't listen to his friend's ranting, instead concentrating on what he'd seen. Something was wrong with Draco Malfoy. When did he start acting like that? And why was Lucius' hand caressing his neck? Was he being abused? No. . .Harry was just being sensitive because of his own situation. Right?

"Harry? Harry?" A feminine voice interrupted his disturbing thoughts.

He turned startled eyes to his other best friend. Hermione stood in front of him, a concerned look on his face. "Harry, are you all right? You look dreadful, as if you haven't eaten at all this summer!"

A weak smile was forced onto his features and he mumbled, "Dudley was on a diet again and you know how they make me eat less than him."

Ron growled in anger. "Those bastards! They have no right to treat you like that!"

"Harry, you have to tell Dumbledore. They disregarded the threats made by the aurors a couple of summers ago."

Almost instantly, his eyes were blazing with anger. Their emerald fire burned brightly, as if they were otherworldly. "No! No one is allowed to know! And besides, I didn't care that I didn't eat a lot. I wasn't all that hungry anyway."

His best friends clearly didn't believe him, but knew not to go against his wishes. If he didn't want anyone to know, then no one would know. And it was as if he was being abused or anything wretched like that. They let the subject go, turning instead to the topic of the upcoming school year.

The black-haired wizard was relieved his friends were willing to let his lack of food go. No one could know of any bad treatment by the Dursley's. If they did and Vernon found out, the muggle hit man would be dispatched to get rid of him. And as much as he hated his life, he didn't want to die just yet.

He tuned out his friends' chatter as they found a compartment on the train and settled in for the long ride to Hogwarts. Staring out the window, he let his mind wander. Thoughts of the scene on the platform assaulted him, memories of how terrified Draco Malfoy looked of his father haunted him. . .

Why did he look so scared?

Hell is for children,

Can you deny it?

We bleed for you,

We cry and scream for you,

Knowing all we have

Is ourselves and no one else.

You don't care, you never did.

And that's okay because

Hell is for children

A/N: This story is full of dark themes, so please don't continue if you are disturbed by this kind of thing. I'm writing this not because I'm some twisted person who likes child abuse, but because the psychological effects are interesting. I'm trying to write this as realistically as possible from what I've read and heard, but please don't yell at me if I do get some things wrong. Oh, and nothing is going to be graphic. That kind of stuff freaks me out, so yeah. No graphic rape scenes. A few snatches of memories here and there will be present in the coming chapters, but that's all.

The poem featured at the end of this chapter is written by me, so don't steal it. (As if anyone would want to since it's not that good)

Oh, and about this shortened chapter length compared to my other stories. Sorry about that, but I needed to shorten chapters for two reasons. 1) So I can update sooner; it takes longer to update when I have a longer chapters. 2) Because moods and viewpoints in the story change quite a bit and it's better if I keep things more simple. . .I hope no one's disappointed about shorter chapters, but I promise that every chapter will have at least five pages. Don't be sad!

I would really appreciate reviews to tell me if I'm doing okay. Constructive critisizm is welcome, as is normal reviews. Please, no flamers. If you don't like my story, then don't read it.

Roslyn Drycof.