A Boy Named 'Harry' | By : HeyDarlin Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 18793 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Hello everyone. Sorry this chapter is quite late I am normally a lot quicker at updating its just I am very busy at the moment and even the chapters from my other fic are slowing down. Oh well.
Big thank you’s to my beta’s Bluetribalrose, Brittine (Flamin Vixen), Katie (quixotic_hope), Serpent Of Light.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters etc and nor do I own a ‘Child Called ‘It’.
Read on, enjoy then review.
Last Chapter:
'Why can’t I just die and get it over with?'
'Why subject me to this torture?'
'Why me?'
Chapter 2 - Please.
Harry spent much of his day completing the new list of chores that he had received from his uncle, which had grown considerably since last night’s events. Vernon had apparently found time to trash Harry’s room and almost destroy the bathroom just so Harry would have something to clean up during the day.
Harry winced as he stood up, his knees sore from kneeling down for so long on the hard tiled floor of the bathroom. He picked up the bucket of soapy water he had been using and poured it down the sink, throwing the dirty rag in after it.
It was about 3:30pm now and he had finished all his chores. Vernon hadn’t trashed things that much, really. Most of the stuff was just emptied onto the floor because Vernon hated breaking anything that was his, so all the furniture had remained intact.
Harry dragged himself along the short stretch of the corridor, pain searing through the top part of his body. His uncle must have fractured a few of his ribs last night, as he could hardly breathe without his chest hurting. Eventually, he staggered back into his room and collapsed onto his bed, falling into a deep sleep before his head even hit the pillow.
pqpqpqpqpqpq
Harry was awakened by a sharp slap to his right cheek and instantly noticed that Vernon was towering over him. Harry squeaked and tried to crawl away from the monster, but only succeeded in trapping himself between Vernon and a concrete wall. ‘It’s a dream; it’s just a dream… you wish’
*SLAP*
“Did I say on that list that you were allowed to sleep, you ignorant freak?”
“N…n…no sir.”
*SLAP*
“Did I say you could speak?”
Vernon grabbed Harry roughly by the shoulders, pulling him up from the bed and forcing Harry to look up at him: brown eyes met green. Terror met fury and, in that split-second, Harry wished he could just curl up and die. He was not wanted. He knew that, but now he was going to have to pay all over again for his worthlessness. Right now he was the boy-who-wished-he-wasn’t-alive.
Vernon slapped Harry again, and Harry felt the familiar warmth of blood silently trickling down his flaming cheek.
“Now boy, you go back to that ‘place’ Friday, do you not?”
Harry just nodded sombrely and continued staring at his over-worn shoes, tensing his body, ready for the blows that were surely soon to come. ‘Ha!’ Harry thought. ‘I am leaving soon. You can’t get me at Hogwarts. Then I win.’
“Are you listening- boy?”
Harry nodded his head, trying not to show any trace of the emotion he felt.
“Now,” Vernon grinned manically, “what are you going to tell everyone about this? What happened this summer?”
“Nothing sir, because nothing happened this summer. I’m an idiot and I can’t go anywhere without falling and hurting myself; that’s where the bruises come from.”
Harry ran off the story fluently and if you didn’t know any better, you probably would have accepted it to be the truth. After all, Vernon hadn’t imprinted it into Harry’s brain for no reason.
“Good, now boy, tell me again what are you?” Vernon smirked as Harry told his excuse; he had made Harry repeat it over and over since the start of the summer holidays and it looked like all those hours chanting it were about to pay off for him.
“I’m an idiot.” Harry muttered staring at his tattered shoes. ‘Yup, this is going to be a great afternoon.’
“Boy, I don’t think I can hear you.” Vernon grabbed Harry by the ear, backhanding him and causing Harry flinch. His uncle proceeded to drag him to the newly cleaned and restored bathroom and swung him around so he was facing the mirror.
“What are you? Nice and loud so I can hear, boy.”
“I’m an idiot,” Harry droned, keeping his eyes averted from his pitiful reflection, trying to ignore the burning sensation in his ear and cheek. Vernon thrust Harry’s head forward so the boy had no option but to look at himself, the sink pressing into his wounded stomach. Harry gritted his teeth to stop himself crying out, his breathing coming in short gasps.
“Louder!” Vernon growled, not even aware of the pain he was putting Harry through.
He pushed Harry’s face further towards the mirror, smirking at his own reflection as he did so. Vernon obviously did not see what Harry saw in the mirror - a monster, his worst nightmare, the man-who-lived-to-terrorize-him. Nope, Vernon saw himself as a God; his job was to judge and to punish everyone who wasn’t up to his standards. If it were up to him—and if he could have gotten away with it—Harry would have died years ago.
“I’m an idiot.” Harry began to chant, staring at his own reflection, his face so close to the mirror his breath could be seen. His once vivid green eyes that used to hold all the laughter and joy a child should have were now gone. Instead, they were replaced by bleak pools. No emotion was displayed there. No warmth, just emptiness, just how Harry felt. Empty.
A small guffaw echoed through the bathroom as Dudley came to inspect what the racket was all about. Of course Dudley knew exactly what was going on. The freak was being punished for being freaky and his only disappointment was that Harry wasn’t reeling on the floor bleeding to death.
“Mum wants the freak to start getting dinner ready.”
“Right. Boy, we will continue this later.”
Harry nodded in defeated dejectedness and was pushed out the door in the direction of the stairs. As he moved forward, he heard Vernon come out of the bathroom, knocking off the light and shutting the door behind him. He listened as Vernon clapped a proud hand on Dudley’s back.
“How are you, son? Good day out with your friends?”
“Yup, had fun.”
Harry knew that Dudley’s fun had probably ended in someone’s being carted off to the nearby hospital or at least unconsciousness.
Dudley’s fun hobby had always been pummelling unsuspecting victims into the ground. Harry knew all to well from his years as the “unsuspecting” victim.
Now everyone always stayed well clear of the gang and its usual hang-outs. But, somehow, they always managed to find some poor sucker to beat into the ground. ‘At least it’s not me,’ Harry contemplated as he stumbled down the stairs, gripping the hand rail to stop himself from keeling over.
“Oh, get on with it, boy.”
Harry felt Dudley or Vernon’s foot hit him square in the small of his back, the impact sending him tumbling forward. His hands slipped from the rail, failing to move within his hands’ weak grip. In almost slow motion, he fell, rolling down the staircase, his head and shoulders bumping on alternate stairs until he crashed into the small hallway. Unable to stop himself, Harry crashed straight into the coat stand and then the wall, unaware of the coats that covered him as he slipped into a welcoming bliss.
pqpqpqpqpqpq
When Harry awoke, he was in his room. He groaned and flipped awkwardly onto his side. His blurred eyes searched for something, anything, but all he could make out were different coloured blobs. Harry reached out and dragged his fingers across the cool wooden surface of his nightstand until they came into contact with the recognizable metal frames of his thick-lens glasses.
As Harry placed the thick frames on his nose, the world came back into focus. His first thought was to check the clock: ‘11:56.’ He glanced to the window. ‘And it’s still light outside…’
“What the hell!”
Harry removed his hand from the top of the clock and leaned over the side of the bed as far as he could without toppling off and used his hand to search for the calendar he kept underneath his bed.
“Fuck!” He exclaimed upon seeing the calendar, slamming a hand across his mouth almost immediately after the words left his mouth. ‘That was a bit loud,’ he thought, lying still, hardly daring to move for what seemed like an age until he was sure that he had not awoken anyone with his “freaky foul-mouth,” as his uncle put it.
He slowly moved and looked at the clock again, noting the time was now 12:07. He groaned again, this time louder, as he realized that no one was asleep. In fact, no one was even in the house.
Harry dumped the ‘Britain’s Prettiest Cottages’ calendar on the floor, which was absolutely no help to him at all since he did not know how long he had been sleeping. The only other thing it could tell him was what the prettiest cottage for August was-not that he cared.
Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned again as he pulled the covers off his lap.
He looked, felt, and probably smelled like shit. He was in a lot of pain. His clothing, which looked like they hadn’t been changed in days, were covered in dried blood and sweat. ‘I need a shower.’
Harry took of his glasses off, setting them in his lap, before rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sleep that was clouding his vision. After putting his glasses back on his nose, he slid off the bed, wobbling on his unsteady legs, and set off at a slow pace towards the bathroom.
After a few minutes of the painfully slow trip down the hall, Harry staggered into the bathroom and turned to put the shower on. Once the water was running freely, Harry turned his attention back to his clothing. The Dursleys hadn’t bothered to change him into his pyjamas ‘Why am I not surprised?’ Harry thought. He guessed that they had only moved him up to his room so he was not obstructing the hallway or something daft like that.
As Harry began to peel off his clothing, grimacing as had to peel the fabric off from one his deeper cuts where the blood had started to act like glue and his oversized shirt was virtually stuck to his skin. He caught a glance of himself in the bathroom mirror.
He was deathly pale and his skin had a yellowish tinge to it, like you would get if you stayed indoors for too long. His ebony hair was matted with grease and blood and was well overdue for a trim. His eyes looked like they had retreated back into his head; they weren’t as bright as they used to be. He looked down at his well-toned stomach that was currently hidden beneath a series of bruises, scars and dry blood.
Reminded of his previous task, Harry pulled back the shower door and climbed in,leaning back against the wall, letting the water soothe away his troubles and Merlin knew he had a lot of them. It was a nice escape, even if it didn’t last for long.
Once Harry was satisfied that he was clean—all the blood, sweat and grease gone—he stepped out the shower a little more gracefully than he had gotten in. His legs were now beginning to respond, and he started to dry off. It had been a rather long shower, and he felt a whole lot better for it. ‘Hopefully, the Dursley’s won’t have some chores for me to do,’ Harry thought. The weight on Harry’s shoulders lightened a little as he looked forward to the prospect of relaxing for once in his life and maybe a little food.
At that thought, Harry’s stomach gave a violent growl. He was so hungry, but then it wasn’t the first time. Harry was salivating just at the mere thought of food. Harry secured the towel round his waist, water still dripping from his hair, and he when he went to pick up his dirty clothes, he gasped as pain shot through his chest and abdomen. ‘I really need to see a doctor,’ Harry thought. He knew there was no chance of that so he slowly unrolled his body into a standing position and walked back to his room.
Once Harry was fully dressed again, his mind was firmly fixed on one thing: food. Somehow, he managed to drag his mangled body downstairs and into the kitchen. His first instinct was to check the cupboards, but no, it would still be the same routine, and he knew he couldn’t take anything without being caught. As he stood, he let his eyes wander round the kitchen, stopping as they saw the bin.
Hopefully, his “family” would have been a little more careless with their leftovers since the “boy” was currently indisposed. He rushed over to the bin, as fast as his legs would carry him, the need for food overriding his pain. Sure enough, there were a few scraps of bacon gracing the top of the rubbish contained in the bin.
Harry’s hand shot out, grabbing the few pieces of cold bacon and shoving them into his waiting mouth. As he chewed the life saving morsels, Harry smiled, leaning back against the nearest cupboard, relishing the taste until he swallowed. Harry dived for the bin again, rummaging through the trash, searching for anything that was even remotely edible.
After ten minutes of searching and nothing to be found, Harry stood slowly, the hurt reappearing, now accompanied by the frequent growls from his stomach.
‘Well at least things are back to normal once again.’
‘But then again, what’s normal?’
With a sigh, Harry moved over to the kitchen door. His life had always been anything but normal. Harry so desperately wanted to be normal, but he knew he could never be. Firstly, he was the boy-who-lived and secondly, and secondly he didn’t really know what normal was. How could he be something when he didn’t know what it was?
He often wished or prayed whatever you want to call it. He wished that his parents weren’t dead, that there wasn’t a mad psychopath of a dark lord out to kill him, that he wasn’t the boy-who-lived, and that he had a real family, not one that…
Harry swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and, with the back of his hand, wiped away a stray tear that had escaped his eye. Life wasn’t fair; he knew that all too well, but crying wasn’t going to change anything.
As Harry entered the doorway, Vernon crashed through the door after dumping his briefcase on the floor and hanging his coat up. He headed for the kitchen only to find his nephew blocking his path.
“Boy, what are you doing?” Vernon sneered.
Harry hung his head, becoming increasingly interested in his shoelaces, not daring to look up, as his uncle was now far too close for comfort; Harry tensed at the closeness.
Vernon grabbed Harry by his shoulders, slamming him back into the stair banister, leaning in so close, Harry could see the grease and red blotches on his face and smell the alcohol on his breath.
‘Oh god, he’s been drinking again.’
Harry’s eyes widened as he felt Vernon push his huge body up against Harry’s, grinding himself against the boy’s small frame. Harry squeaked in horror and tried to push the larger man off him, but it was no use; it only seemed to encourage Vernon, who jerked his hips forward into Harry’s stomach, growling under his breath as he did so.
“No!” Harry cried out as he felt his uncle’s erection grind into him. “Please…just, leave me.” Tears began to fall down Harry’s face. “Please…”
pqpqpqpqpqpq
Comments and Constructive Criticism Welcome.
PLEASE R & R.
Hey Darlin
While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
All works displayed here, whether pictorial or literary, are the property of their owners and not Adult-FanFiction.org. Opinions stated in profiles of users may not reflect the opinions or views of Adult-FanFiction.org or any of its owners, agents, or related entities.
Website Domain ©2002-2017 by Apollo. PHP scripting, CSS style sheets, Database layout & Original artwork ©2005-2017 C. Kennington. Restructured Database & Forum skins ©2007-2017 J. Salva. Images, coding, and any other potentially liftable content may not be used without express written permission from their respective creator(s). Thank you for visiting!
Powered by Fiction Portal 2.0
Modifications © Manta2g, DemonGoddess
Site Owner - Apollo