Disclaimer: I do not have ownage ok? NO OWNAGE HERE!!!
Authors Note: Well sorry for the crapness of this fic but I wanted to write one about abuse but couldn't decide what would happen in it and who would be abused. It's my first try at an abusive type fic. Constructive criticism welcomed!!!
Chapter oneHarry woke from a sleep he wasn't supposed to have. He lay there in the darkness for a few moments, as the "whoosh" of air that meant his uncle was on the rowing machine droned on. He was glad he was alone, but he knew it wouldn't last. His stomache growled. He'd managed to earn himself a few scraps today, scrubbing the kitchen floor until his fingers were dry and blistered. He wondered if he could take just a few more….what if they'd been careless and left some in the bin? He thought. He rolled out of bed and hauled himself to his feet, letting the dizziness wash over him. He crept out on to the landing. It wasn't late; only 8 or 9 o'clock, but his aunt and cousin were out and Vernon was exercising. He listened. The "whoosh" had stopped. Harry froze, every hair on the back of his neck sticking up. Where was he? He crept to the top of the stairs, peering down into the kitchen. Nothing.
"Looking for someone?" Harry jumped and span around, meeting uncle Vernon's livid face, twisted into a smirk that reminded him horribly of Snape. In a split second Vernon had raised a fist and Harry felt something click as it smashed into his jaw. It sent him spinning, head first down the stairs. He collided with the wall at the end, landing in a crumpled heap. He felt the familiar warmth of blood trickling down his cheek as his uncle walked casually down the stairs. Although his uncle's sudden urge to exercise gave Harry some time alone he was beginning to regret it. His uncle had been strong before, but now all his fat had turned to muscle and each blow was ten times worse than the last. He felt Vernon kicking him in the ribs over and over again, occasionally getting his stomache or face. Wheezing, Harry tried to crawl away into the kitchen, but that just angered Vernon more. He dealt Harry a kick that sent him flying through the doorway into the kitchen and he was on his back now, defenceless. Vernon stormed in, standing over him.
"What are you?" he growled.
"H-Harry, sir," whimpered the boy.
"WRONG!" his uncle lifted his foot and brought it down hard on his face then upon hearing the door open, went to greet his wife and son. Harry rolled over and got to his hands and knees. As quietly as he could, he crept past the trio and up the stairs into his room. He shut the door and slid against it, letting silent sobs rattle through him. His ribs ached and he couldn't breathe for the blood caking his broken nose. He heard aunt Petunia and Dudley in the living room, so where was –
His door slammed open knocking Harry forward to his knees. He was grabbed by his collar and once again was at the mercy of his uncle.
"I'm not through with you yet, boy," he spat. Harry wondered why he wouldn't just leave him alone. His uncle thought he was filth and had to scrub himself clean after every encounter with him. So why me? Why can't they leave me alone?
His uncle dragged him into the bathroom and they stood in front of the mirror.
"Now, what are you?" he whispered so close to Harry's ear he could feel the hot breathe making him shudder.
"Filth. Vermin. The shit on your shoes." Harry choked, staring at his feet.
"I'm sorry?" His uncle jerked his head upward so Harry was looking at someone in the mirror. It took him a moment to realise he was looking at himself. In fact, it was amazing how much he and the Potions Master looked alike. His skin was deathly pale and sallow, much like the potions master's and his hair, now far too long had the same greasiness too. But is that grease? Or blood? He thought. His eyes were darker than normal, and surrounded by dark circles. His scar was strangely faint and his nose was crooked and slightly hooked due to the fact it was broken. He could see his collar bones sticking out too and he wished he wasn't forced to look at this.
"Do I need to say it again? What are you?" Harry looked himself in the eye, putting on a blank face, trying not to show how he was feeling. He was getting pretty good at it.
"I am filth. Vermin. The shit on your shoes." He said through a mouth full of blood.
"Damn right you are! Now boy, you'll be returning to that – that place in five days, if you'll remember," how could he forget? For once he was dreading his return to Hogwarts. He couldn't avoid a corridor jammed full of students just waiting to knock into him. He had a few spells to conceal his cuts and bruises but he knew there would be questions. On the other hand, anywhere was better than here.
"So. What are you going to say to those little freaky friends of yours?" Harry swallowed hard and blinked back hot tears of fury.
"I'm stupid. I don't have the intelligence to breathe and watch where I'm going at the same time. I ran into a door, that's all," it was well rehearsed, anyone would buy it. He hoped.
"That's right. That'll teach your freaky friends from poking their noses in where they don't belong," Vernon grinned.
"They're not freaks." As soon as he had said it, he wished he hadn't. His eyes widened with terror as he clapped his hands to his mouth, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I swear - " uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed.
"Wait here," he snarled. Harry stood, petrified, rooted to the spot. He listened as he heard his uncle in the workshop, apparently looking for something. He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and his uncle re-entered the room, something hidden behind his back. There was a wicked grin on his face as he grabbed Harry's hair with his free hand, twisting his neck upward to look into Vernon's eyes. Harry squealed in pure terror as from behind him Vernon pulled his battery-powered drill. He flicked the switch and the drill bit began rotating fast, sickeningly sharp. Harry watched, helpless, as his uncle brought it slowly in front of Harry's face. He cracked.
"No please sir, I'll do anything!" His uncle's grin spread so wide he was smiling from ear to ear. A smile. Meant to be friendly, but uncle Vernon used it as a knife, twisting it deep into Harry's soul until it drew blood. Thankfully he switched off the drill and let Harry fall to the floor, shaking violently.
"Well you know how much I love to see you beg." Vernon stood in the doorframe before flicking off the light and exiting, the smile never once leaving his face. Harry was shaking, a cold sweat making his clothes cling to him like cobwebs. He hauled himself over the sink and retched, bringing back what small food he had earned. He turned on the tap and washed it away before crawling back to his room.
He didn't know how long he had waited, but it was long enough to be certain all the Dursleys were asleep and he was free to go and clean himself up. He limped to the bathroom and locked the door securely. Flicking on the light, he tried to ignore the mirror and pulled of his jeans and underwear. He peeled off his shirt, wincing as it re opened some of the cuts on his chest. They must have healed over the shirt, fusing it to his skin. He stepped into the shower and let the water wash the blood, and his troubles away. Remembering his Snape like locks, he shampooed twice and added conditioner – he didn't know when his next shower would be. He needed a haircut. Badly. He'd be returning to school as a Snape mini-me if he didn't watch it. Perhaps he could find some scissors at school? If I could just sneak into the Muggle studies room…or Hermione is sure to have a pair…Hermione. How he missed her so. Why had she not written? Or Ron? Heck, he'd even be happy to get a letter from the Potions Master himself! Salty tears mingled with the shower water. Gods, why would no one help him?
He lay on his bed, wide awake, watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Today was the day! Today he would be going back to Hogwarts and away from this hell. His trunk was packed, Hedwig safely in her cage. If only he could do something about these bruises…He had his wand, but was only sixteen so couldn't use magic out of school except in self-defence. He would have to wait until he got on the train. Since it was school property, technically he was doing it in school. But what if somebody sees? Checking the clock (it read 3:40 am) he swung his legs over the side of the bed and put on his glasses. He pulled on some clothes deciding he would never get to sleep now. Not with the nightmares around every corner. Long baggy jeans as not to irritate the cuts on his legs, a shirt much to big for him and a hoodie. Yes that should cover his face nicely. No one need ever know. Did he dare take a shower? As if in answer to his unspoken question, he heard someone on the landing outside his door. He jumped into bed and pulled the covers up over his face, leaving a little gap so he could see the door. Slowly, the doorknob twisted and the door creaked open. His uncle, still in his clothes from the night before crept as silently as he could into the room. Harry could smell the whiskey from here. He was standing at the foot of Harry's bed.
"Awake already are we?" He slurred. Oh gods, he's drunk. Harry thought.
"Eager to leave?" Harry knew it wasn't a question so said nothing as his uncle slid the covers off him. Harry now felt completely vulnerable, like his thin blanket was some sort of brick wall that had just been broken. He felt his uncle turn him onto his back and pin his shoulders down with his knees. He felt his uncle's erection pressing into his stomache. He felt his uncle sliding one hand up Harry's shirt, and another down his waistband. Harry squealed as he felt the cold hands on him and turned away, a hot tear sliding down his cheek. Harry tried to resist but his uncle was too strong. No! he screamed inside his head No! You can't have the only bit of my innocence I have left! You can't have that too! There was a crack like a whip from out in the street. Uncle Vernon froze and sprang of Harry with surprising ease for someone so drunk. Dragging Harry with him he glared at the boy as if he had something to do with it. He punched Harry hard in the face, making his nose sear with pain as he flew across the room and hit the window. Uncle Vernon pinned him there, and with another blow to his cheek, left, slamming the door behind him. Harry thought he could feel someone watching him, but knew he was the only occupant of the room, consoling himself that it was only because you had to feel that way in this house. He had to feel this way, simply so he could be on his guard all the time. He fell back into be, drawing the covers up to his chin. He was trembling as he sobbed uncontrollably, stuffing his fist into his mouth to muffle the sound. He slipped into a fitful sleep, still through all the pain, hoping for the moment he stepped on board that train…
Harry woke up 4 hours later and found a list of chores at the end of his bed for him to complete before he left. Well what did he expect? A day off? Today was just any other day to the Dursleys, except slightly better as they would be rid of him. He crawled out of bed and lugged his heavy trunk and Hedwig to the bottom of the stairs. As he walked past his uncle's room, he noticed the door was ajar. It was dark inside and the smell of drink still hung heavy in the air. Moving his trunk and Hedwig out of the way at the bottom of the stairs, Harry checked his list of thinks to do:
1) Clean Kitchen Cupboards + Floor (Don't touch anything)
2) Put Garbage out for collection (Clean up the any mess)
3) DON'T wake me up! (I'm warning you boy - )
"Boy? Is that you?" Harry flinched at being called that. His uncle had forbidden the use of his given name in the house so he was referred to as "Boy" or "It" or "Brat". Harry wandered miserably into the kitchen where his aunt was holding a mop and bucket for him.
"Be quiet you intolerable filth!" Oh yeah, they called him that too. "Your uncle is still sleeping. I will be taking you to that place today so you had better get those chores done or you won't be going!" she hissed. Thrusting the mop and bucket into his hands she left quietly and began dusting, pausing only to tut disapprovingly at Harry's trunk and Hedwig. He got to work and soon the floor was sparkling. He opened the cupboards about to start on them and the contents spilled to the floor. As if his uncle had been expecting this, there was a dustpan and brush on the table with another note attached:
"Clean it up! And don't touch anything, I'll know if you have." Harry followed the note obediently and once the whole kitchen was finished, he moved on to his next task, well aware of how late it was getting. They would need to leave at ten o'clock so as to be there for eleven and it was already nine thirty. He hurried outside and opened the bin lid. He was just about to lift out the bin bag and its contents when he saw it – a half eaten banana. He plucked it out and crammed the rotting fruit into his mouth. He had never tasted anything so good in his life. With this renewed energy running through him the rubbish was out for the dustmen to collect in no time, despite the fact that the bottoms of the bin bags were slashed and he had to clean that up too. It was ten to ten when he returned to the house. His aunt bustled in and slapped him hard across the cheek. Then, seeing he was still bleeding from his nose and now from his cheek, she tossed a dirt cloth at him;
"Clean yourself up," she spat. "And put your hood up – people can see you." She stormed over in a dainty way to pick up her car keys and she walked out the door. Quickly, Harry wiped the blood from his face and pulled on his hood before dragging his luggage (and Hedwig) out to the car. There was no room in the boot, so he sat with them in the back seat and they drove off, leaving #4 Privet Drive far behind.
It was twenty to eleven when they finally arrived at Kings Cross station. Petunia opened the doors, not moving from the car and threw him out onto the pavement with surprising force, much to the dismay of the onlookers. His suitcase followed and he only just caught Hedwig, before she screeched off back to Privet Drive. Harry got to his feet, wincing and quickly pulling his hood back over his head. Soon he was through the barrier, but instead of feeling welcome as he usually did, he was terrified. There were so many people and so much noise and after 5 weeks of next to solitary confinement and silence he suddenly felt claustrophobic. He hurried on to the train, jumping at anyone who spoke to him. He found an empty compartment at the end of the train and nearly fell inside, pushing his things on the luggage rack. Too soon he heard the door sliding open and he stood up as Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lunar and Neville walked in.
"Harry mate! Great to see you!" Ron embraced him but Harry just stood there stiffly, petrified. There were so many people. He was trapped. His eyes must have show something because Ginny stepped forward and began to look at him questioningly, trying to peer under his hood.
"Harry are you alright?" He nodded a little too quickly and turned to look out the window so they could not see his face. Unconvinced, she stepped back letting Hermione talk.
"Harry me and Ron are going to the prefect's compartment for our orders. I expect Ginny, Lunar and Neville will keep you company." She and Ron left as Ginny, Lunar and Neville sat down. Harry however, remained standing.
"Why don't you sit down Harry? And take that hood down. It's like talking to a dementor!" Neville joked. Harry shook his head silently. He couldn't let them see. Quickly, he got out his wand and robes and ran to the toilet. He locked it, then cast a locking charm on the door before pulling off his clothes. He let out a sigh of relief as he realised he could now finally cover up these bruises. He didn't know any healing spells and they were all too difficult for him to try so instead he used a concealing charm on each of his cuts and bruises. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked almost normal, except for his hair, which was nearly shoulder length. He decided to cast a spell on that too. It would look short and spiky, even though it more resembled Snape's hair. He looked almost normal. Almost. Pulling on his robes he unlocked the door but it still wouldn't budge. The room was closing in on him. He began pummelling the on the door as his breathing became shallow and irregular. He was going to die. He was going to die here alone in this toilet. Suddenly, when he thought all hope was lost, he fell forward and looked up. Draco, looking slightly less butch with the absence of Crabbe and Goyle was standing over him, a puzzled expression on his face.
"Potter what the - " but Harry had scrambled to his feet and was pelting down the corridor to his compartment, suddenly remembering he'd cast a locking charm on the door. He skidded to a halt, just catching his breath before walking into the compartment to sit down next to Ginny. He stowed his old clothes away in his trunk and slumped against the seat, staring at his shoelaces.
"Harry what's wrong?" she placed a hand on his shoulder, making Harry flinch. Even though no one could see his, the bruises and cuts were still there. Luckily, it covered up his broken nose too. She took her hand away, casting him pitying glances. Shrinking into the corner, Harry looked out the window, glad they didn't attempt at any further conversation with him.
Finally they were out in the Hogsmead rain and filing into the Thestral-pulled carriages that would take them to Hogwarts. Harry lost Ginny, Lunar and Neville in the crowd and was strangely thankfully – maybe he could get a carriage to himself and avoid any further questions. He climbed into the last one and dumped Hedwig and his luggage on the seat. As he sat down, he sprang back up to his feet, realising he had sat on someone. He wasn't alone. Turning around, he bit his lip and put on his blank face to mask how terrified he was. It was Malfoy. The blonde haired youth stood up raising his hands, palms outward in an open expression of peace. Harry flinched, thinking Malfoy was about to deal him a blow for being insolent, but then remembered he wasn't at Privet Drive anymore. Somehow he still wasn't calmed.
"Whoa Potter what the fuck is wrong with you?" And Harry was surprised that Malfoy said this not in his usual sneer but in a genuine tone of concern. Malfoy sat down as not to intimidate the shorter boy and Harry followed. Harry eyed Malfoy warily but decided he wasn't being threatening for once. He stared out the window, aware he was being watched but dismissing it.
They arrived at Hogwarts soon, but not soon enough for Harry. He practically flew out of the carriage and sprinted up to the castle as fast as he could. He left his luggage in the entrance hall for it to be taken to Gryffindor tower just as Ron an Hermione joined him.
"Alright Harry?" Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder. Harry winced and stepped forwards with the force but tried to force a smile onto his face, "Right then, let's eat!" Ron and Hermione led the way into the Great Hall and Harry followed, the smile slipping off his now blank face. He shuffled into the hall, the claustrophobia coming back at the sight of all the people and noise. He had to stop himself screaming when Nearly Headless Nick floated through him but couldn't stop himself jumping at least a foot in the air.
"Sorry Harry!" grinned the ghost
"Don't worry," Harry bluffed, "You just made me jump is all," and he forced another painful smile before joining Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor Table. Harry smelt the food and his stomache growled. He piled on copious amounts of food and wolfed it down. He turned, a chicken drumstick hanging from his mouth to see his friends staring at him. Ron, of all people looked disgusted. Hermione on the other hand looked concerned.
"Harry slow down, people would think you hadn't eaten all summer," Harry swallowed and dropped the drumstick. How much did they know? I have to stop eating. He thought. And besides, if I get fat, uncle Vernon might get angry and… Harry had suddenly lost his appetite. Pushing the plate full of food away from him he sank low in his seat, aware of someone watching him. He scanned the crowds fearfully, How many people had noticed? But he couldn't see one single person looking at him. He dragged his eyes up to the staff table and he felt black eyes lock his green ones. Snape was watching him, his eyes narrowed and he was obviously not listening to McGonagall who seemed to be talking to him. He glared at Harry, much resembling the glare of uncle Vernon. Harry flinched as if he had been hit again. He broke eye contact and felt the Potions Master avert his gaze. Harry slumped even lower in his seat, doubling over, his head in his hands. He was glad no one was paying attention to him. He just wanted to go to bed. He wasn't really thinking, but odd random thoughts came into his head every once in a while. I wonder if my broom's ok…my robes are too small…and they were. His trousers were at least two inches to short and a jolt of panic shot through him. Oh no, my bruises! He reached down, and then sighed. Oh yeah, the spell. Shame it only lasts for 24 hours. He felt once again the heavy gaze of those black eyes upon him but decided not to look at Snape. He saw too much of his uncle in him.
Later in the dorms Harry changed quickly and got into bed. He didn't feel like talking so he pulled the curtains around his four-poster shut. Before he knew it, he was crying. He was so tired. So hurt and tired. Why me? Why won't anyone help me? Where are you Sirius? You promised you'd be there for me. You promised…