Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Quiet	By : Morosemordant Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 11963 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is in no way mine nor do I make any money on it. The plot is mine however.

Chapter List
- 1-Quiet
- 2-Noise
- 3-Heat
- 4-Time
- 5-Sunlight
- 6-Touch
- 7-Lies
- 8-Pill
- 7
- 8
“God, your ass boy it’s so fucking tight!” Sweat dripped down Harry’s face with the effort not to scream. “…such a good slut aren’t you boy? Love having my cock shoved deep in your ass don’t you, you fucking faggot?” The fat man growled in his left ear as his head was yanked backwards by his messy black hair.
The sweat on his face mingled with tears and blood. The concoction ran down his jaw and over puffy yellowed bruises before sloshing off onto his bed linens, or what one might call linens but were just tattered bits of fabric.
In and out, in and out stretching and pulling and burning its length into his memory. The bed springs squeaked out their protest in his ear with every jab. He could feel the crust of blood on his thighs cracking with each brutal thrust. The weight of the other man on his back was a claustrophobic feeling and his ribs groaned under the pressure. His chest was suddenly pushed further into the springs of his bed as his hips were lifted up in a sudden change of position.
‘He only did it to cause a new rip, the fucking bastard!’ Harry thought with despair. He couldn’t think of this man as his uncle now, he just couldn’t. It would be his undoing and he knew it. This was just a man, and this was just another form of punishment, he was gay and this man knew it. Harry didn’t know how he knew it but that didn’t matter much at this point. It was not his uncle, it couldn’t be. Uncles aren’t supposed to do this to their nephews.
“Fuuuuck…” The man on top of him ground out through clenched teeth as he shuddered out his release into the poor boy beneath him. He held still a long time as Harry just wished it was over and he could be alone. He hurt all over, and felt filthy and torn.
Vernon finally moved off of the teen and wiped his hands and cock off on Harry’s back and bed clothes. “That’s a good boy; maybe you’re useful for something after all.” He grinned as Harry moved to curl on his side. Vernon spit in his face after he pulled his trousers back up and walked to the door. He shut it quietly and Harry could barely hear him walk across the hall to the bathroom to wash away his sins.
Harry lay very still hoping in the back of his mind that he could just disappear.
He woke hours later before the sun was to rise with a jolt and shiver. He turned slowly from his side to his front hoping to roll his way out of bed. His chest felt tender and hot, dark lines of red and the occasional green stood out against his bony ribs. The mattress was bare where the sheets had been pulled and twisted the night before. It felt scratchy against his raw skin.
He rolled slowly on to his knees, crawling forward to the bucket in the corner where the Boy-Who-Lived promptly emptied what little bile was in his stomach. He sat back and grabbed at an oversized gray shirt from the floor covering his body in it as he hugged his legs to his battered chest. His body radiated pain with every heart beat. He felt the back of his head where he had been slammed against the wall the night before and felt a nasty crusty bump.
His wrists were bruised and his right one looked particularly bad off.
“Serves me right for struggling…” he mumbled angrily. He knew he was wrong but also knew if he hadn’t struggled so hard he could have saved himself some energy and pain. Harry bent his bloody bruised face to his knees and cried great silent hacking sobs. He stayed that way until Vernon left for work several hours later. No one came up to ask Harry to make breakfast that morning. It was impossible for the rest of the household to have not heard the brutal beating the night before. He only hoped the rest of his family had been spared the sound of the bed springs or of the small cot hitting the wall. He doubted it.
His aunt knocked on the door at some time around noon and passed a hot bowl of soup through the cat flap. A first for the stern woman, but Harry was dealing with a lot of firsts in his life recently. The movement of the soup into the room was followed closely by the clicking of several locks and a soft shaky voice.
“Boy, Harry, why don’t you take a shower? There is still some hot water left and I placed some clean clothes on the counter for you.” Harry sighed and made a nonsense sound she must have taken for approval because her light footsteps could be heard going down the stairs.
September seemed to take forever to arrive for Harry and the Dursley’s. The atmosphere in the little white house on Privet drive was electric with anxiety. Harry continued his chores as usual but with a new intensity that only comes from someone trying to escape reality. He walked through the house on tip toe trying his best to avoid anyone’s attention.
His aunt had taken to doing his chore list on his worst days and slipping food and bowls of warm water under Harry’s door to wash with when she couldn’t get him into the shower. She passed the occasional box of butterfly bandages under the door as well, which Harry scowled at.
‘She doesn’t get it.’ He would think to himself. Harry would never be able to use those bandages because if Vernon saw them his punishment for “stealing” would be worse than his punishment for existing.
The food was appreciated when it wasn’t being squirreled away under the loose floorboard. Harry didn’t trust the charade of guilt from his aunt to last too long, better to be safe than sorry.
The head of the Dursley household was particularly edgy. He would come home from work and act like he could almost smell that Harry hadn’t been working all day, but with no proof and his wife telling him otherwise he couldn’t punish his nephew for not working. This didn’t mean the punishments ceased. In fact Vernon would find reasons for Harry to be punished nearly daily, if he wasn’t punishing him for speaking out of turn it was for “tripping” and breaking things. He was always particularly cruel on Wednesdays. Those were the nights he visited Harry’s room.
On Harry’s sixteenth birthday Vernon made a special visit. Harry knew he was in trouble the day before when he heard his uncle had paid for Petunia and Dudley to go to the beach on holiday for the weekend. His aunt was reluctant but Dudley seemed excited to get out of the house. He had been strange around Harry since the first night Harry had been raped. Dudley seemed to want to say something all of the time but remained silent and tried to spend the night at Piers house most nights. He still bullied the neighborhood kids but it was a little lackluster compared to his old bullying.
Vernon sited that he had just too much work at Grunning’s and that he wouldn’t be going to the beach with his wife and son. In fact he said that was the whole reason to send them away. Of course the boy had to stay and look after things and make sure that Vernon ate. Petunia had no argument as to why Harry should go with them as he had never gone on holiday with any of the family before.
So with Petunia and Dudley packed up for their weekend trip she kissed Vernon on the cheek before he went off to work that Friday morning. As the car pulled out of the driveway she turned to Harry and frowned.
“Come on boys into the kitchen with you we still have a couple hours until we leave. “ When Harry scampered over to the stove nervously petunia’s frown deepened before she smiled benignly at her nephew.
“No Harry, why don’t you take a seat with Dudley and I’ll fix you both a nice big breakfast.” Harry was stunned; he couldn’t remember a time when he had been allowed at the table. Even in his highchair days they placed him in a separate room to eat.
Half an hour later his mouth was watering at the sight of a stack of pancakes the size of his head. Petunia handed him a glass of milk and he nearly fainted. He had never been allowed anything but water before.
“Look Harry I know we haven’t been close, or even civil with you before this point and I feel guilty for not doing more for you.” Harry scowled at the gross understatement. “I would like to say I love you and all but your magic is still something I believe to be unnatural. I thought we were doing the right thing by trying to force you to be normal, but Vernon has gone too far.” She looked about to cry and Harry wanted nothing more at that moment than to reach out and slap her. How dare she be upset after the fact, how dare she be allowed to feel sorry now?
“Harry, I don’t know where you hide food but wherever that is put some of those pancakes and a few of the apples from the fridge. I don’t know what Vernon is planning but I don’t want to leave here without helping a little.” At this she handed him a little orange bottle. “These will put you out of It if you need, my valium, they should make this weekend a little more bearable.”
“Thank you.” He said shortly coveting the pills. He glanced at Dudley who was eating his breakfast very slowly, obviously trying to ignore the whole ordeal.
“I can’t do any more for you I’m afraid, your Headmaster made it perfectly clear you had no other place to stay and that he wouldn’t move you without just cause. I just couldn’t tell them what Vernon did. You understand don’t you?” She was pleading with him, asking forgiveness from her nephew for being a coward.
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Quiet