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)
- 15
- 16
- 17
   He tore off his uncle's coat and threw it on the floor, but it was a depressingly meaningless gesture no one saw.
   His body sagged, and he knew he should sleep. Who knew when he'd truly slept last? It seemed to him like he might have in that storm that had lasted for days, but he didn't know, and he felt like maybe it had been a very long time.
   He laid down and heard Dudley come home and run upstairs, moving about, then back down, and out the door. To Number Eight? Would he be able to tell anything there? Harry should have tried to leave a note, but it had been nothing but his uncle for hours.
   Dudley came back home soon after and went back upstairs. And it was sometime after that that he came back down and stood outside Harry's door. "Are you in there? Harry?" The sound of the lock tapping softly against wood. "There's a lock again. You're in here, aren't you?"
   He said nothing. It was a command, but also his go-to. Stare at the ceiling, or the underside of the steps, or whatever happened to be up there at the time, do nothing until the current situation changed back into him not needing to do anything.
   His uncle thundered through the house and balled Dudley out for being there, but Dudley raged back, and Harry listened to it for entertainment. What thickened it all were Uncle Vernon's reactions. It made him incredibly uncomfortable to have this fight with Dudley. Uneasy. And it seemed to Harry that anything that would knock the man off kilter had to be a good thing.
   When Uncle Vernon yelled at Dudley how unnatural it was for him to be so protective of Harry, Dudley laughed. Harry laughed along, albeit silently. Then the dangle of keys, and Harry stopped laughing. He jumped off the bed, loathe to be seen on it, and backed against the wall, just as reluctant to be seen huddling, which was what his instinct screamed for. He could fight, in some small way, before he was rewritten. And he would be.
   His uncle opened the door carefully, and Harry threw himself at him as soon as he was in the room. Fingers out to dig into skin, and his uncle was knocked back a bit by the force. Harry's fingers burned, but only slightly and he came at him with teeth, making the man shout. But his uncle was loving it. That was the undertone of it all. Harry stopped the instant he felt that, and withdrew. He didn't need to give the man more ideas.
   Uncle Vernon grabbed his wrists in the slowing movements, but Harry was done by then anyways. Dudley pushed in behind, and the room had never been so tiny. Harry felt light headed from it all, and wished there were more air in the cupboard.
   "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
   "Dudley! Get out! Christ, I wish I could order you around as easily."
   "Yeah. You'd just love that, wouldn't you? Then you might not fail so bad at life? If everyone just did what you said? Stupid fucking bastard."
   Harry was let go, and Uncle Vernon turned on his boy. "You don't mean any of that."
   "You didn't even feed him, did you? You just fucked him and put him away for later?" Harry flinched, feeling the truth of every word, and sat against the wall, trying to make himself smaller, make the room bigger. "You're going to kill him, because you're so fucking stupid."
   "Now I know where he's getting this sudden attitude from. You think you're a good influence on him? He was doing just fine before he ran, and I wouldn't be surprised to hear you talked him into it."
   "Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Just feed him. And give him water. Fuck, Dad. He probably hasn't had any of either since I last gave him some. You know when that was? Before you sent me to that guy's place. Before you had your other wizard friend flip through my head. Five goddamn days ago, you lousy bastard." Five days? Had that happened? That felt about right, but it was hard to gage these things anymore. His body was numbed to so much of it.
   "Get out."
   "No. You." He shoved his way by the man, sending him into the wall a foot away, and came over Harry. "Harry. Come here. It's alright. I won't leave." Harry grasped the arm that came for him, and clung to it. But he still couldn't say anything. Dudley pulled him up and Harry shook in place. Dudley was pulling him to the door, but Harry dug his feet into the floor and squeezed Dudley's arm as much as he could.
   "He can't leave the room," his uncle said, bleeding satisfaction. "No matter what you do, he has to do what I say."
   "Alright, then." And Dudley sat on the bed, taking Harry with him, closing him in his huge arms.
   "Yeah. I thought so. That's what's going on, isn't it?"
   "Right. But for months, Dad. We fuck every time you're away from him. It never ends. And he actually loves it. Not the bullshit he gives you."
   "What, you listen?"
   Dudley went quiet, and Harry felt maybe that was true. He wished he could make some noise, scream at them both to leave, and at the same time he was glad for the order to remain silent.
   "Just, go get him a glass of water, Dad. You couldn't possibly do any less."
   "What're you gonna say to him while I'm gone?"
   "You're that scared, that paranoid, when you own him? You couldn't have more control."
   "Alright." The man left, miracle. And came back with a beautiful glass of water, condensation already misting around the outside. "Let me."
   "Give me the goddam glass! Jesus fucking Christ!" It was passed to Dudley, and Harry grasped his hand as he brought it closer. He sucked up some of it then pulled away, and Dudley set it on the floor by the bed. "Was that so bloody hard? I would have done so much better than you."
   "You have no idea how much power it is, Dudley. You couldn't handle it. You're just a boy."
   Dudley scoffed, but stayed still, right where he was. It was a stalemate of sorts, but keeping still, silent and holding Harry was in his wheel house. He laid back, and Harry went with him, not having a problem with pissing his uncle off. And it did. The man stewed and sputtered and bubbled with it, but he could do nothing. Dudley was untouchable. Harry was aware he was naked, and was still glad he'd thrown off his uncle's stinking jacket.
   After a time of incredible awkwardness, Uncle Vernon went to the living room, and sat on the couch, grunting as he did, like every time. He'd left Harry's door open, and the telly off, and it was quiet. Weirdly quiet. Aunt Petunia would come down soon to make dinner, and Harry wasn't sure if Dudley would stay then, would let his mother see him like this, but it would be nice enough while it lasted. And so strange.
   He spoke quietly, just so Harry could make it out. "A woman came when you were gone. McGonamagal? And she gave me a place to go to, for help, you know, if you wanted it. Or needed it. And she wrote it down for me, so I could take you there, Harry? Can we trust her?" Again with the 'we'. When they could just let him rot in here, alone, and in silence. Harry just wanted the silence. Where he could be nothing again.
   There was nothing McGonagall could do for him, no reason for her to try. He had nothing to offer. All he could do was just what Dumbledore had seen for him, death. That was how he could help the war effort, and do away with another of Riddle's soul fractures.
   But he could tell her that. Who knew what they were up against with Riddle? Probably no one knew how close to immortal he was. Slughorn must have known, but he would never say it aloud to anyone besides Harry.
   He could write some of that down, and get Dudley to somehow give it to her if she ever showed again. Then she, the one who was still doing things out there, could do something else about it, and Harry could let it all go. Since he already had.
   But she'd given Dudley the name of a place where he could find her? What had she seen that she trusted him with such a death certificate? Snape had read his mind. Was that before or after? Harry shut it all out. It didn't matter. They'd lost. If McGonagall didn't know it, then that was on her. She was a smart woman.
   Dudley spoke a little more, trying to get Harry to respond, but he stayed silent, having nothing interesting to say, and aside from that, he'd been ordered to stay quiet. So it was a win-win. Nice when orders blended with his wants.
   "I don't know who we can trust. They all want to kill you, or hurt you. But she seemed nice. And she froze out Mum and Dad so they wouldn't hear it. That's a good sign, right? But if you think it's solid, I could get you out and we could floo there, she said. She said she had a way to work with your bond. She said. I don't know. I don't know what to do, Harry. Please, say something."
   And it was just quiet enough that Harry could close his eyes and sleep to it. He was so tired, it was a heavy thing, weighing him down, like a blanket over him and his cousin, rumbling along with the boy's heartbeat, soothing.
   Aunt Petunia came down, steps lightly kissing the stairs, but it woke Harry. He jumped up. If Dudley was alright with his mother seeing this, Harry didn't know, but he wasn't. He was on this woman's shit list for enough things. He didn't need to go writing more down for her with his own hands. He swayed a bit and sat quickly by the towels, and grabbed one to hide himself better. Bloody door open to the world. He felt very much an exhibit as she walked by, but she didn't pause to look.
   Her husband followed her, and parked himself in the kitchen to speak. Harry had no choice but to hear it. The man danced about with words, suggesting a change of scenery for Dudders, (his boy was back to Dudders by then) and Harry and Dudley looked at each other as Aunt Marge was mentioned.
   Finally his wife had heard enough. "You want to send Dudley away to your sister's? Is that what you're taking ten minutes to say, Vernon?"
   "Well, some country air would be good for him. Of course he's getting cagey here, and all he sees is the boy. So maybe it's natural for him to get weird ideas."
   "So." The sound of her setting down what she was doing. The other worldly patience as she turned on him. These things were as plain as if they'd happened in front of Harry. "He sees him, and that makes him want him?"
   "Yeah. You get it," like he was pleasantly surprised she could.
   "And your sister, with her farm of dogs everywhere would be better?"
   "What?"
   "Nothing."
   Dudley snickered. "He's just so stupid." Harry would have nodded, but nods were forbidden. Then Dudley sat up on Harry's bed and shouted out, "Maybe you should go stay with Aunt Marge for a while, Dad. Would do you some good to be out, don't you think?" Harry smiled, but it curdled in place. The horrid man would probably take him. That wouldn't be good. Him and Aunt Marge and Uncle Vernon. And a vicious pack of dogs that hated him and would listen to Ripper, follow that bloodthirsty dog's lead? Harry didn't need that. He shivered as images struck him, and how awful that would be. He would be screaming for Dudley soon.
   And Harry could feel his uncle thinking. That was always scary. There was nothing that man could think up that would be a good thing. He reached out and took Dudley's hand, trying to warn him to let it go.
   Dudley squeezed it and smiled reassuringly, but yelled out to the kitchen again, "Harry can come to dinner, right?"
   "I'll think about it. Now pipe down in there."
   "Oh! Good news, Harry," he said, patting his hand. "He'll think about letting you eat." Harry agreed. He was so very hungry, but the thirst was something stronger. He reached out for the glass on the floor and drank the rest of it. "You want some more?"
   Harry handed the glass to him, after thinking about how he might symbolize a yes. Dudley took it and stared at him. "Can't you speak?" Harry stared at him, dead faced. Dudley shook his head and left for the kitchen, and Harry was suddenly terrified his uncle would come back and shut everything and everyone out. He shot up and stood by the door like he could do something about it, nervous as hell, but unsure why he would be. He wanted the door shut, and him on the inside, right?
   "So, you what? Gave him orders to never speak again?"
   "He's none of your business."
   "If you were doing a good job, I would mind my own business."
   "You don't mean that. You're jealous. I saw how much you wanted him when we were negotiating this whole arrangement."
   "And you still stepped in my way."
   "I didn't have a choice, did I?"
   "No. You didn't." reluctant agreement.
   "Thank you."
   "But you have a choice to not treat him like this. Like actual shit. He's our family, Dad. And look what you're doing to him." Irritation and patience warred for dominance in the man and he sat quietly. "He's dying of thirst in there, and he can't even beg you for water? I really would back off if you weren't on the verge of killing him all the time." Harry hoped that wasn't true; he'd hate to lose what Dudley gave him, whatever it was. And he wasn't sure at times what it was, but it was so very nice.
   Dudley came back with another glass of water, and handed it over. Harry smiled weakly for him, and sipped it. He wanted to drink it all, but he knew where that would lead.
   His uncle left the kitchen, and it went quiet, then the determination that Harry knew for his uncle shitting settled in. Late in the day for it, but his uncle had been thrown off his schedule by recovering him. When some satisfaction seeped in, Harry worried. He knew the feel of his uncle coming up with what he thought was a good idea. The man did all his great thinking on his throne, and he had come up with something in there. It was troubling.

   The scents of dinner had Harry nearly drooling; had he been better hydrated, he would have. He sipped his water more, and didn't know if he would be allowed at the table, but if so, he willed his stomach to not let him down, and keep what he gave it. They were always at odds, it seemed. Like it was someone else's. Maybe that was where Riddle's fracture resided?
   When it smelled more than ready his uncle came back to Harry's cupboard, looking at Dudley on his bed, and then Harry on the floor against the wall, wrapped sloppily in a towel. Then he smiled. He had definitely thought something terrible up.
   "Come here, boy," and Harry mouthed his obligatory Yes, Master as he stood on shaky legs and walked over to him, eyes down. "Good boy. Now, you're going to eat only what I give you,"
   Yes, Master.
   "And you're going to sit where I put you." Harry's response was hidden as his uncle picked him up and carried him out, at least having the presence of mind needed to keep Harry's towel in place.
   Harry was carried to the table, and sat sideways on his uncle's lap. It was instantly worse than no dinner, but at least he wasn't facing his aunt. And then Uncle Vernon made to feed him, by hand. Harry shut his mouth and turned his face into his uncle's chest, and he was given orders to open his mouth. He covered his open mouth with his hand, and Aunt Petunia set down her fork.
   Harry closed his eyes and quickly removed his hand, afraid to hear anything from her. It would only have been very ugly. He chewed slowly as a hand rubbed his thigh under the table like he was a good boy, and his uncle took his own bite after that.
   "You're fucking sick."
   "Dudley! Watch your mouth!"
   "Yes, Mum. But it's true."
   "Yes, it is. But that's no reason for you to swear at my table, is it?"
   "It might be."
   "You wanted me to make sure he ate." His uncle sounded very pleased with himself. "That's what I'm doing, Dudders. I'm taking care of him, aren't I?"
   "You're not. You're playing your sick games. No wonder he hates you."
   "He does not hate me! You've been trying to turn him against me, that's what it is. Trying to angle your way in."
   "Vernon. Do you hear yourself?"
   That shut him up, soured him right to the core, in fact. He'd finally heard someone say something. He set down his fork and carried Harry back to the cupboard. Harry wasn't too bolstered by all this, since the satisfaction the man had come across while shitting was making an appearance again. So. feeding him at the table in front of his family hadn't been his breakthrough. That was too bad.
   "You stay in here, no speaking to anyone. No noises, no nods, shakes of your head, nothing."
   Yes, Master he mouthed, and curled up on his bed. The man would leave him here. That was what the orders meant. He would be safe for a while. And that was true; the door was locked as he left.
   It sounded like Dudley paced the house then came right to Harry's door and the sound of hardware almost threw Harry into a panic. He had the key? Or he was trying to pick a lock, maybe, because a key would have taken less time than this.
   The door opened - no, it was lifted. Set against the wall in the hall. Dudley had taken the door off the hinges. That was some Dursley fortitude right there. Harry stared as Dudley set the screwdriver down and came inside. They were both nuts.
   Dudley came onto the bed with Harry and curled around him. Harry took it, knowing there wasn't really anything else he could do. All he could do was accept, and it was nice, actually. To be held by someone who only meant him comfort. "I would do anything for you, Harry. I hope you believe that." He was beginning to, thinking of the door just leaning in the hall. He snaked an arm under Harry's head for a pillow. "I just don't know what to do. I don't know a good way out of this. Just bad ones."
   He put his other hand on Harry's hip then stayed still. "He's gone to LeStrange's." Harry could only worry about that. His uncle was a very stupid man, but it never stopped him from making Harry's life hell. He had thought up something, and Harry was most worried about potions. They did enough damage to plague his mind and have him more than dreading the man coming back.
   His uncle came home a few hours later, very satisfied with himself. He went to the garage and came back, loud metal noises accompanying him. He was a symphony of ill intent, humming as he went. No big reaction for the door, just another hum, and some pleased bit of pride. So strange.
   Harry was facing the wall, and Dudley was behind him, so he wouldn't have seen much. He didn't really want to. It was bad, he knew. The room dimmed as the door was replaced, then drills screamed and he gripped Dudley's arms. "It's alright. I'll stay right here." He stroked Harry's hair back, but Harry knew it wasn't alright. He knew all too well the sound of this man building a cage. And now he also knew the feeling from the inside. It was pure intent, and a peace of mind Harry had possibly never known in his life. A will that strong should have had this man ruling the world back when things were normal.
   He blocked his ears from it, it was just so loud. Sparks from grinding at some point, and he felt Dudley turn in the bed to watch. It was terrible to lose the hold then, he was just so terrified of this new hell his uncle was working out for him. Then the noises died down, and the satisfaction rippled like a living tangible thing.
   "Really, Vernon?"
   "Christ!" She'd scared the shit out of him, - Out There - in the hallway. "How long have you been there?"
   "Is this necessary? Really?"
   "Yes. For your information, it is. I don't need my boy going all strange over him, like he has been. And you've done nothing about it." She laughed. Dudley stroked Harry's head and he tried to unhunch himself. He was a tight ball of nerves, encased in Dudley.
   "Strange? Like you? So you're keeping me and our three remaining neighbours up with this? This!? Look what you did!"
   "Yeah. I did, didn't I?" He was nodding. So happy. "I'm all done now, so you can go back to bed." There was some silence, then the sound of her pissed off feet up the stairs.
   "Things are pretty loud in here, aren't they?" It was all new to Dudley.
   The cracking sound of apparition filled his little cupboard and Harry whipped his head about, peering over Dudley's shoulder at his uncle. The man had apparated into his room. He was holding up a key on a chain, with another key dangling, smiling.
   Harry stared, hating everything as much as he hated this man. "LeStrange set me up with portkeys, understanding my problem. See, I just wanted to get Dudley a little plaything of his own, but he said it would be nearly impossible. Not everyone can have such a luxury." He rocked on his toes with the information that he was elite enough to have one himself.
   "And then this one," and he dangled another key on the chain, "lets me out." He was very pleased with himself. "And hardly any cost at all, Harry. Practically free, but we'll get into that later." Harry looked away, waiting for a command. He would never see the light of day again. How did this man think Harry would ever clean himself? But maybe he didn't. Had Uncle Vernon ever complained about the smell before? He didn't think so. It wouldn't matter. No one else would ever smell it. Harry didn't give two shits about whether his uncle had pleasant smells.
   He could feel the man smiling. Could feel him humming in his head. He leaned over them, and placed his hand on Dudley's shoulder. "You know how these work, Dudders?"
   "Why would I?"
   "Quite right, quite right. Why would you?" His fingers pulled up the chain, and he grasped the other key, and he and Dudley were gone. Harry had expected as much, but he didn't know his uncle knew things like this. LeStrange, again. And the man would come here, for another evening. All very expected. Harry turned back to the wall, and listened to Dudley shouting from the living room. At least the key didn't lead any further away than that.
   And then it occurred to him that this was just like Voldemort's lair. And he started to sweat out his precious water. His door opened outwards, so it was held closed forever by the bars that were in the hallway. He was in here indefinitely. No light, no air, no water, nothing. He was soaked, and knew he had to calm himself down. He got off the bed and placed himself in the center of the room, to not feel anything bordering, and pictured open spaces that also happened to be this dark. He scratched himself nervously, until he realized he was digging, and it hurt, but it wasn't easy to feel it. His nerves were still so deadened. He held his fingers curled in his palms, tight, to keep them still.
   This couldn't be that bad, after all. His uncle wasn't in the same room as him. It could always be worse. That helped. Calmed him right down, and he centered on listening to the man move about the house. That was all he ever needed to hear.
   Dudley sat outside his door, and spent the night there from the sounds of it. Harry loved him for it; he'd never felt so alone, so closed off from everything. Even his his time with Riddle had never had him with less than Nagini, and this was reminding him far too much of that. It twisted his stomach, and he tried not to think about things.
   His uncle slept upstairs in one of the rooms. Harry's from the sound of it, but that was odd.
   His uncle came for him again at breakfast, to try his little game of feeding Harry by hand at the table. Harry wanted nothing of this, and covered his mouth with his hand again when ordered to open it. Aunt Petunia left the table altogether, and Dudley stared.
   "Harry, if you don't eat like this, you don't eat at all. Is that what you want?" He couldn't answer, because of his uncle's incredibly stupid commands, so he kept his hands in place. A hand rubbed him, like he was trying to sooth him, and it did anything but.
   "Harry, take your hands away." And he did. "Now, open your mouth," and he did, and Uncle Vernon shoved a bite in. "There, now. That so hard?" Harry chewed it slowly, glaring at him, then Uncle Vernon nodded to himself, as though the matter was settled. That was just too much, and Harry spewed it back in the man's face.
   Dudley chuckled. His uncle carried him back down the hall to Harry's bars, and apparated through to the other side. He deposited Harry on the floor and left. Harry backed to a wall and sat quietly, like he could have done anything else, and Dudley came and sat outside the door.
   He wasn't bothered at dinner time, and Dudley got loud with his father about it. Aunt Petunia said she wouldn't be making meals for her husband to use to make himself look like a fool. After such a heavy threat they both shut up.
   His glass was empty, his bucket used, and Harry got used to the smell in moments. This was all just run of the mill regular business in the Dursley home. Nice was the new/old life of not being touched, all the bloody time. He was left alone. His aunt stayed upstairs, Dudley puttered about the house until he came back to Harry's door and sounded as though he was camping there. Uncle Vernon went upstairs, to whatever room he was using. It didn't sound like he was sleeping with his wife. It didn't matter, Harry was left alone. That mattered.
   He went back to not existing, or he would have if Dudley would have let him. He talked to him through the door, tethering him to life Out There, but unable to feed him as he had before. It didn't matter; what he did was more than enough. Harry stayed numb to nearly everything else but thirst. His uncle went to bed at nights and stayed there, and that would be enough for anyone. He was happy enough about it. He was left alone. Maybe his uncle had understood finally, how much he hated him. It was a new dawn in the Dursley home.
   Dudley kept it up for a few nights, but it became apparent that Uncle Vernon had lost interest. Or something. Harry didn't know, and it didn't look like Dudley did either, but he went back up to his room after a few more nights on the floor. Harry missed him, but he couldn't very well ask the boy to live his life out on the hallway floor, could he?
   Hunger was normal, he'd dealt with that for forever. His whole life. But the thirst was harder to live with. It gave him pounding headaches, and from past experiences those bothered him on every level. They fed anxieties that were harder to ignore, but it was all worth being left alone.
   And then one night his uncle crept down the stairs as everyone slept, and Harry woke. He knew those steps, the sound of everyone else sleeping. It was night. No clock and no window, but he knew that much.
   Funny how stupid this man was. That he went down the steps. That he didn't just use his prize, his key from wherever he'd been. Not Aunt Petunia's room, though. There was a rift there that was unbreachable. This man had destroyed his marriage. Or Harry had. He didn't know. He didn't care either. Really, he had done his aunt a favour, if true.
   The man cracked into his cupboard, and Harry covered his face with his arms.
   "Yeah, like it's a nightmare. Like I'm some beast who beats you or mistreats you. You may speak, quietly."
   "Oh. Thank you." His voice cracked and broke from the misuse and complete lack of spit. "Just what I wanted. You're too good to me." He swallowed with some effort and kept going. It had been a long time. "You have any idea how stupid it is that you go to all the trouble of creeping down the stairs and then pull out the key?"
   "Still going to be a little shit about this? I don't like it, boy."
   "You're so fucking stupid."
   "I really don't like you cursing like this, either. you spent too much time with my boy. He was a bad influence on you."
   "This is me. If you don't like me, tell Snape. He'll set you up with a happy slave, surely."
   "Harry." He fell on him and turned needy and gentle. "Please, stop this, just stop it all."
   "Yes, Master," he choked out, and huddled in more, buckling and crumbling under the touches after so very long without. "Please, just one more day? Please."
   "No. No more days, Harry. This is the last one. It's been seven. I can't take being that hard again. It really does hurt, you know?"
   It was the seventh day? He should have been counting. He didn't even notice the slight ache. He was so deadened to it. Like it was normal. But now that he looked for it, he could feel it, just in the outer bits, creeping in. He covered his face and hoped he would be allowed to do nothing while it was happening.
   "You will stop swearing."
   "Yes, Master."
   "Unless you're talking dirty. And you always have permission to talk dirty." It wasn't an order, so he kept his mouth shut.
   "Come on, Harry. Be real good for me, and maybe I'll keep it to once a week."
   "Really?" Hope, like a flighty bird inside, battering his insides. He could puke from it, if he'd had anything inside. Such an evil thing.
   "Yeah. Really. Give me some kisses?"
   "Yes, Master." He raised his face enough that his uncle could smother him, devour him, and his face was soaked in moments. Must be nice to have so much saliva. He was lifted in arms, then the dangling of the key, the crack, and they were in the living room.
   He was carried to the washroom, and his uncle showered him while he tried to just stand still and good for him. He turned his face up to the water and swallowed as much as he dared before anything hurt. That had been the fastest week ever, but what the man said was true. His pains were really there, they just had gone under his radar at first. He leaned against the wall of the shower, feeling faint from this much energy being exerted, while his uncle lathered up his body with sensations so faint they were almost unreal.
   "Remember when we made love in here, Harry?"
   "No."
   "Should I remind you?" He wanted to say no, but it would happen either way. All of it would happen no matter what he said. He turned is face away. "I could live with once a week. I could do it." Harry looked up at him. Was he telling the truth? Did he need to? That was the real question. He didn't need to give Harry six days of peace. He could do whatever he wanted, but he wasn't for some reason. Was it his family? And the way they were treating him? Harry nodded, and put his arms about the man, ready to accept a trade like this. It would be nice, and he would have time between to not be touched.
   His uncle moaned quietly and pulled him in tight, kissing him deeply under the water. He fingered his arse open and turned him around. Harry planted his hands on the shower wall and braced himself, and he was entered to the smell of cucumbers and lavender again. But he would have six days after this. His uncle was painfully hard, no give, and shoved inside quickly, making Harry gasp, but he could take it. It wasn't pain, not really. Pain wasn't even real. He even backed himself, helping, and a face came to nuzzle his shoulder.
   "You'll really leave me alone for six whole days, right?"
   "Really, Harry. Just be good, and I will. Move for me?"
   "Yes, Master." It took everything he had to not fall from the effort needed, to move with his uncle, and the man encircled him in arms, stroked his chin and pulled his face back and upwards to him, and kissed him desperately. Harry kissed back, mostly to play along, but he felt that maybe, if he had to be honest, maybe just a little bit, he was also kissing this man just to kiss him. It had been frightening in the cupboard for so long without light or air. Air had recently become kind of important to him. And he'd been very alone. Not that he hadn't been alone before, but like that? It was still better than the lovers fantasy this man had saturated everything with weeks ago, but Harry had been lonely. And he was hard, backing himself on the man, he leaned back, more for support in the arms. His legs were weakening, shaking under him. He couldn't afford the blood his prick was hogging.
   "You're doing so good, Harry. Keep going."
   "Yes, Master." But his uncle was doing more of the work by then, pumping him happily and even mostly holding him up. A hand lowered to his hips and held him tight in place, while the man still sucked at his face. Harry answered back with everything he had, but it wasn't much.
   Then he couldn't do anything anymore, and his uncle was completely holding him up, supporting all of him as he fucked into him, and the man moved on to the back of his neck, so Harry could let his head hang as well. This had taken everything out of him so quickly, and he was working to just breathe. He hoped this would still be called being good, but he just had nothing left.
   He was held close for the stuttering bits, and the emptying. His uncle seemed to really need that all inside. And he didn't touch Harry's prick, which had been hard for most of that, but it didn't matter. It was over. Harry felt relief, and had enough clarity to turn his head back again and swallow more water from the shower head.
   Then his uncle turned Harry around in his arms and held him and kissed him and pulled him in tight. "I wish you wanted me to do something about that," and pressed their bodies together so Harry would know Uncle Vernon was talking about his disgusting hard on. He kept his face down. "I just want to take care of you." Harry waited for him to touch him, but he didn't.
   Uncle Vernon stamped out his ripple of disappointment, then took him out and wrapped him in a towel, dried him off, and took them both to the kitchen after putting back on the clothes he'd worn that far. Harry looked at the clock; it was still very early. Dark outside, and he would have liked to see the sunlight for a little bit, but that didn't matter. For the other things he was living without, he would pay with sunlight any day.
   His uncle took something from the fridge and warmed it up in the microwave. Harry sat before he fell. He was ready for his cupboard, his week of peace. That was all he wanted, and he'd earned it. Uncle Vernon took whatever it was from the microwave and brought it to the table. It was a plate of leftovers, all ready, made up, like it had been put there for someone. Harry stared at the tablecloth and waited, and he was picked back up, then set onto his uncle's lap, sideways again. The man obviously wasn't done with his fun for the evening.
   "There you go. Now none of that. You're still being good for me, yeah?" Harry nodded. If he was still in the deal zone, he could be good. "You really should eat sometimes, you know. I don't know what everyone's on about all the time, though. I think you look good." Harry nodded, out of reflex. Perhaps the man enjoyed his bony form. Well. He obviously did. But maybe he preferred it that way.
   "Please, may I have some water?"
   His uncle smiled hugely for that, and let Harry up to get some for him. Harry waited, and sat on the man's lap again when he returned.
   "You're being very good today, Harry. Maybe you only want to be good when they're not here?"
   Harry shook his head. He didn't need his uncle to try more thinking. "I hate all of this, whether they're here or not. But I'll be good," he added quickly at the approach of thunderheads from the man.
   Uncle Vernon nodded, but his mood had been soured a little. Harry wondered if he was supposed to do something about that, but he'd already been so good. How much more was he supposed to do? He sat quietly and waited, slowly leaking the man's cum onto his thigh.
   The glass was handed over and he took some sips, adding to what he'd judiciously swallowed in the shower. It felt so strange to have something in there. But he was able to speak much more easily now, and thinking was becoming an option again.
   "There, now. Open up."
   "Yes, Master," he said tiredly and opened his mouth for the chicken they'd had the night before. It was delicious, as he knew it would be. As it had smelled hours ago. Harry chewed extra slow, trying to pace the man. He knew nothing of how little Harry could take. Had probably never gone hungry in his life.
   After he swallowed he looked up at the man, signifying he was ready for more, but instead his face was grabbed and he was smothered with another deep kiss. Harry kissed back, ready to be good.
   "Harry, stroke my cock for a bit?"
   "Yes, Master." Harry reached down, not thinking.
   "Just through the pyjamas."
   Harry thought it would just be harder to find that way, but it wasn't. The man was hard, again, jutting up against his own gut. Harry stroked the underside softly, and his uncle groaned, grabbed the back of Harry's head and held him in place while he tongued his mouth. Finally the man let go of his face and directed another bite for him to take. Harry wasn't hungry anymore, but he took the bite and chewed as he stroked the man, doing his best to keep his face away. His uncle made out with his neck while Harry chewed, and he put the fork down to help Harry's hand out.
   "Oh god, Harry. You get me so hard."
   He moved Harry and sat him back down so Harry was straddling him, and held him close, pulling Harry's arm back down and burying it between them, rocking into his weak hold. His uncle reached behind him and brought the glass back, and Harry drank as it was held in place for him.
   "I want you to spit in my face again."
   Harry looked up at him. What the hell was wrong with this man? And could Harry do something like that on cue? That had been one of the holy rules delivered from this very man, when Harry was a child in truth, no spitting, no hitting below the belt, and no biting. These were the things no man did. And his uncle wanted that? Maybe the rules only applied to fights.
   Did he even have the moisture in his mouth to make spit? That's why the man had given him a drink? Was he thinking again? He worked the gob up slowly as his uncle watched him, never doubting it would happen, desperation bleeding into his happiness. And Harry did it, forcing everything he had into it. It sprayed everywhere, messy and disorganized, but his uncle moaned and held him tighter, kissed over Harry's chin and neck, pulling at his hair to open more space for himself. "Again?"
   Harry spat again, and his uncle humped up into his hand, holding their bodies almost too close for Harry to keep going. He wiped his face in Harry's neck and nodded for more.
   "Good, Harry. Good. Let's move to the sofa for a bit?"
   And it had been a question. But Harry was lifted without an answer, hands gripping his arse tight, and carried to the living room. His uncle still held him, hands on his cheeks, holding him in place, and laid back.
   "There you go." He was still leaking on his uncle, but the flow was stopped by the man's dick pressing upwards for more, and inside. "God. So hot. So wet." Wet because he'd emptied himself there before, but Harry kept that to himself. He couldn't stay upright anymore. He would faint. He laid down on the man, leaning his head on him, and Uncle Vernon allowed it for a time, just pumping up into him lazily. Happily. "You didn't miss this? Really?" He stroked Harry's head and shoulders and arse, covering all the ground he could while he worked slowly. "I did, Harry. I miss this all the time." He stopped stroking him and grabbed his hips, using his hold to grind Harry against him, moving himself so every thrust had the man's body moving against Harry's cock, hard between them.
   Harry pushed himself back up again after that, giving space to where his prick kept making itself known. "I want to feel you cum, boy." Harry closed his eyes. "None of that. I gave you a whole week of peace and quiet. And you'll get another if you're real good. Yeah?" Harry nodded. He could do this, he could do anything that his uncle could also command him to do, and wasn't. "You do it."
   "Yes, Master," as Harry nodded and gripped himself, hating how hard he was, how good it felt to touch himself as he was riding this hateful man. How everything could blend so quickly to this kind of pleasure.
   "I want you to spit on me again."
   Harry did it quickly, and realized afterwards it had come with a sneer. He wiped that off his face while his uncle moaned and bucked and stroked his thighs, spittle on his face and chest. Some had hit the armrest. Harry leaned in, placing a hand on the man's chest for more support. He needed a nap more than anything right then. He dug his fingers into his uncle's skin and the marks over his uncle's chest caught his eye. He'd done those. It helped his fist speed up, helped him think of something pleasant, and he spat again at the man. Hands tightened, and he could sense the end there.
   Why was the man loving this so much? Loved when Harry had actually smothered him in the bed upstairs? Carving his flabby flesh? Spitting on him? Harry was seeing an ugly pattern.
   He dug his nails in and raked them down the man's chest, then spat on him again. He should have been cheaper with his water, though. His uncle surged up and ground deep inside him.
   "You're worthless," he hissed, and knew it was something Uncle Vernon would want to hear if he could say it. And the man nodded under him, still thrusting happily. "I hate everything you make me do." A loud moan answered him. "I hate touching you, and I hate more when you touch me," and he clawed the man again, deeply. Uncle Vernon nearly shouted for that one, and Harry spat at him again. He hoped he would get another shot at the glass in the kitchen afterwards. "Keep your voice down, you disgusting pig."
   His uncle reached between them and covered Harry's hand, working furiously and Harry could have cried out, but his uncle pulled Harry close to suck at his face, and stopped it before it could have happened. Harry pulled back, seeing the road open to where he might never have to kiss this man again, and spat in his mouth. "You're fucking worthless."
   And that did it. His uncle came, whimpering under him, making all his horrid sounds, his hands tightening, wringing one more shameful orgasm from Harry. He went limp over him and took the last few struggles of his uncle as the man tried to embed everything he could. He closed his eyes and was sleeping before the man was soft.
   "So good, Harry. You're everything I ever wanted."
   The words, hitting deep as everything the man said to him did, woke him. You never wanted this. He wanted to say it, but that would have led to nowhere. And it was over. Why would he prolong anything, even a conversation?
   "You want some more to eat?" He did, he was so hungry. But it could lead to more of this. Probably would. His uncle could harden over anything. "Probably should eat some more. I'm really not trying to kill you." Harry wasn't sure about that. This man was a complicated beast, it seemed.
   They were back in the kitchen, Harry back on his uncle's lap. He was fed some more, and kept his eyes down. Kept his movements to a minimum. He would sleep forever if just allowed to. And he would be. He'd get days of peace for this. He told himself that over and over, and stayed awake from that knowledge alone.
   "See here? I want you to eat this much." Harry looked at the plate, dizzy. His uncle had portioned off half of it. There was no way. Harry looked back up at the man, and leaned his head against him, closing his eyes. If he could just sleep a little, then later he could eat some of it.
   "I can't, Uncle Vernon. Really. I'll be sick if I eat that much."
   "Really?" Harry nodded, eyes still closed. He woke as he was moved, and he saw he was in his cupboard. "You did very good, Harry. You made me happy."
   "I get the six days?"
   "Yeah. We'll see about that. I should feed you more often, and I can't do it in front of them."
   "You can! Just let me eat! You don't need to-"
   "That's enough of that. Stop talking, now. No more speaking, no noises, no nodding, no shakes of your head, none of it. Be quiet in here."
   Harry mouthed all his Yes, Master's to it, and laid down, confident the man would leave him at the sound of those commands. And he did, but Harry was asleep before the man left.
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I Don't Think You're a Waste of Space