Summary: Harry has an awful summer after the events in OOTP. Can he deal with his abusive relatives and his dead godfather? It is a Snape/Harry sort of thing (NOT slash), but not as typical as you may think.

This characters belong to JK Rowling, to my never-ending despair.




Warnings: rape, abuse, self mutilation

Rating: R



Harry Potter lay, bedraggled, on his stained bed sheets that smelled of stale sex. His uncle had defiled him for the third time that month, and that, that disgusting fact was starting to take its toll. His sixteenth birthday had passed four days ago, all his arriving presents burned by his relatives. His things for school were not burned fortunately, just locked in the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry stood shakily upon the floor, pain shooting through him like thousands of daggers. "Some fucking savior I am." He muttered to himself. He didn't cry. No, Harry Potter never cried. In front of any one. Not even himself. All he needed was his blade. His blade was his solace, his blade calmed him.

He opened the loose floorboard by the foot of his bed, taking out a small box of razors. He took one out, mesmerized by how it glinted in the moonlight, which spilled through the bars on his window. He dragged his blade it across his wrist once, twice, three times.

Blood ran down Harry's snow white arm in rivulets. How did I become this way? He asked himself. "Where should I start?" he thought aloud, "When my uncle started raping me? When my godfather died? When I found out the entire wizarding world looks to me as their SAVIOR!"

"BOY! KEEP IT DOWN!" Vernon's screaming echoed throughout the house. Harry's dark sarcasm vanished as his stomach twisted and he hugged his knees, leaving bloodstains on his oversized jeans.

Only a week until Hogwarts he thought to himself.


"GET UP, FREAK!" The shout shook the underweight teen awake. Vernon booted him hard in the ribs. Harry bit his lip to keep from screaming. He was sure he would die from the sheer agony. Harry sat up, his breathing constricted. He rubbed his eyes.

"What is it, Sir?" he asked.

"Today is the day you return to that freak school of yours" his Uncle replied menacingly, "but we have a few things to take care of first." He smiled a toothy grin.

Harry nodded, his eyes as big as saucers from fear. "Tell me you want it, you little whore.." Vernon said in a dangerously low voice.

Harry shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. Vernon laughed and threw Harry onto his stomach onto the floor. It was all too familiar to the boy. The cold sensation that followed his uncle stripping him of his lower clothing, the disgusted feeling of Vernon's hardness against his thigh, and the earth-shattering pain as he was penetrated. After it was over, Vernon had dragged his nephew down the hallway, into the bathroom, and thrown Harry in the shower.

"Can't have those freak friends of yours knowing, now can we?" his uncle said sadistically. Harry allowed himself one dry sob before he began to wash himself.


Harry looked at himself in the car window's reflection. He had cast concealment charms all over his body so that his numerous bruises and cuts were hidden. He looked up suddenly when the car screeched to a halt. He was thrown out of the car at Kings Cross station along with his trunk and Hedwig by Vernon's strong hands. A stranger had offered to help him up, but Harry had just refused, smiling politely of course, and composed himself.

When he had passed the barrier and arrived at platform 9 ¾, he spotted Ron and Hermione. He rolled down his sleeves and plastered a fake smile upon his face. Here goes.


Note: I know, I know it seems like the typical story at first. But don't worry, it's quite original in later chapters. Shall I continue? I would appreciate reviews greatly.