This story is currently undergoing editing, so if the chapters don't match up, please be patient and it will be fixed.

Warnings: Abuse, rape, attempted suicide, cutting, Severitus fic.

Takes place the summer after fifth year.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Chapter One

Uncle Vernon seemed slightly shaken by Moody's warning as he hurried toward the car, Harry dragging his trunk along behind him. It seemed like each step weighed on his heart, sinking him closer and closer to depression. He had no idea the Dursley's would completely ignore the warning.

One of the reasons he wanted to return even less than other years was because of the increased connection with Voldemort. He had been having more frequent visions of Voldemort's doings, and once had felt the pain from the cruciatus curse, though nowhere near as badly as the victim had. He was sure he would wake someone while screaming in one of his dreams, and he did not want to know what the consequences would be.

The first thing he noticed upon his return was that his bed had been replaced. Instead of the lumpy old mattress on a creaky frame, he had a nice, new bed with a wrought iron frame, headboard and footboard. He was a little suspicious, but ignored the nagging sense of foreboding, sitting down on the bed. The mattress was fairly comfortable, but couldn't hold a candle to the beds at Hogwarts. Upon closer inspection, he found the reason for the change. Heavy metal restraints connected to the head and footboards.

As Harry quickly jumped off the bed, he heard the numerous bolts on his door being slid into place. Nervously he changed into pajamas and crawled into bed, curling up slightly, unconsciously edging away from the heavy chains and cuffs.

Harry dreamed of Sirius and Cedric that night, a recurring nightmare of his. He didn't realize he had been screaming until he was woken by his door being wrenched open. At school he had always placed a silencing charm around his bed. Before he could react, his Uncle was shouting at him to shut up. When Harry would not calm down, his Uncle hit him hard on the face, cutting his lip. Then he punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Harry felt like he was suffocating, the blow to his abdomen preventing him from breathing properly for a moment.

"SHUT UP BOY!" Vernon shouted. "You think it's funny, don't you? Think you'll get a good laugh by waking us all up in the middle of the night, don't you? Think you can harm poor Dudley like that and just get away with it! I've put up with your abnormality too long, freak. And that stunt in the train station! NO ONE TELLS ME WHAT TO DO!" Vernon shouted. Harry had tears running down his face as he gasped for air. Vernon backhanded him once more and left.

Early in the morning, Vernon Dursley woke Harry. He dropped a list on his chest and sneered at his nephew.

"This is a list of chores for you to do today. All of them are to be completed, no complaints." He stated, then left. Harry slowly sat up, his stomach a bit sore, and looked at the list. Even if he had two days he wouldn't finish all the jobs. Seeing it was a nice day out, he decided to start on the outside jobs.

Heading outside, he heard hooting coming from the garage. He found Hedwig locked in her cage with no food or water. He ran upstairs to his trunk, which luckily hadn't been taken away, and removed his bag of owl food.

"Hey girl." Harry said, stroking her feathers. "I'm sorry about this, but there's nothing I can do. He's got me locked up too. Eat that before Uncle Vernon comes back, okay?" He told her, giving her a handful of food. He looked around for a place to hide the bag. In the back corner of the garage were all the gardening tools, which Harry guessed only he would be using that summer.

He hid the food, then, on second thought, he ran back up to his room and gathered together whatever assorted snacks he had. Harry had stocked up on Honeyduke's candy thinking he would still be forced to live on carrot sticks, as Dudley was still on a diet. He put half of it in a bag and hid it in the garage also, hiding the other half in his room under the floorboards. Then he started on the list.

Harry weeded the garden, mowed the lawn, trimmed the hedges, and repainted the fence. He washed all the windows inside and out, then vacuumed all of the downstairs rooms and did the dishes. By the end of the day he still hadn't finished five jobs.

When Vernon Dursley returned home that night, he was furious. Harry was punched and kicked a few times before being literally thrown into his room. At least he was left unchained still, he thought bitterly.

The same thing happened the next day. Before he began his chores, he gulped down as much water as he could from the bathroom sink. He found a paper cup in the kitchen and brought some water out to Hedwig, who hooted gratefully. He fed her, and pulled out a cauldron cake for himself. Just before his Uncle returned home, Aunt Petunia left a slice of bread and glass of water on the table for him.

When Vernon Dursley did return home, he did not immediately throw Harry into his room. Instead he told him to get out whatever he needed to write a letter. They sat at the kitchen table as Vernon dictated to him what he was supposed to write. He brought him out to the garage and freed Hedwig. Harry didn't even have a chance to tell her to stay with Ron before his Uncle threw her out of the garage.

The days continued the same. Harry got food every two or three days, and wrote a dictated letter every third day. By the end of the week Harry was really feeling the effects of the near constant abuse and starvation. It took him longer and longer to finish the jobs, and he could not always get out to the garage. Harry didn't know if Petunia knew about the abuse or not. It always happened when she was busy cooking, or watching her favorite program, and when she and Dudley were out, he was beat longer and more violently. Seemed abuse was Vernon's new favorite form of stress relief.

Harry quickly learned to wait in his room for Vernon to show up, to avoid being dragged and thrown into it. One day while he waited, he wondered if he would even be alive to return to Hogwarts. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to live anymore. Voldemort was back and killing people left and right. Dumbledore, his mentor, had been lying and keeping secrets for Harry's entire life. And Sirius...he couldn't even think about Sirius without breaking into tears. Was his life really worth the death of so many?

Harry went over to his trunk and dug out a silver dagger that Sirius had given to him along with the knife that would unlock doors, which had been ruined in the department of mysteries. The handle was pure silver embedded with emeralds and rubies.

Driven by an unknown force, Harry took the dagger in his hand and dragged it across the delicate skin on his wrist over and over. He switched hands and did the same to the other hand before he became too weak. He held his arms up in front of himself and stared in awe as his blood began leaking out of the wounds, running down his arms in spidery patterns and pooling at his elbows before dripping onto his lap. He didn't even notice the tears streaming down his face or the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Oh no you don't! Those freaks are not blaming us for your death!" His Uncle shouted as he caught sight of Harry. He left for a moment and Aunt Petunia returned with her first aid kit. She took out rolls of gauze and bandages and wrapped his forearms tightly with many layers. Harry thought she looked sorry for him, but he wasn't too sure as moments later he passed out from blood loss.

Harry woke up two or three days later, he wasn't quite sure. The Dursley's hadn't even bothered to take him to a hospital. He didn't mind. He didn't need the attention. Harry thought he was going crazy. Things just began to deteriorate after the attempt at suicide. He had begun to have panic attacks. He knew he was paranoid, but he didn't care. He felt as if the darkness would claim him if he didn't do something. So he cut himself. Again and again, all up his arms. He felt as if the pain anchored him to reality. The pain was something real, something concrete, something he could control when he couldn't even control his own future anymore. His arms were almost permanently bandaged now. He had taken more bandages from the first aid kit.

Harry quickly lost track of time. All he knew was the panic, the darkness, the chores, and the pain that anchored him to the real world. One day, while waiting for his beating, he noticed a beetle on his windowsill. A horribly familiar beetle.

"Get out of here! I don't need you lying to the papers anymore!" Harry told the beetle, who was actually Rita Skeeter. He heard footsteps outside his door.

"Please, get out now. If he catches you-" The window was slammed shut, trapping her inside as Vernon Dursley dragged a struggling Harry to his bed.

When it was over, Harry was left chained, a sign that there was a guest or dinner party tonight. Harry hated when they had dinner parties. He remembered the first time the Dursley's had a dinner party, and Vernon introduced the reason for the chains. They had obviously not forgotten the incident with Dobby back in second year, and were not taking any more chances.

Harry lay apathetically for about an hour before the door opened again. The person who entered was far worse than Vernon Dursley would ever be. He was a middle-aged business associate of Vernon's who often came over. Harry hated him. He was horrible, evil. He was a pedophile, and he was here to rape Harry.