Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Its characters. That honor belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Warnings: there will be talk of abuse and rape. Also this will be a snarry and there will be cross-dressing. If you don't like still read. I want your opinions. Harry will be 16 when he hooks up with Severus.
"BOY!" A screech echoed throughout the house of number 4 Private Drive. "GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE AND COOK BREAKFAST." The banshee currently screaming was none other than Petunia Dursley. Sister to Lily Potter and aunt to Harry Potter. Or freak, or boy, or any other demeaning name known to man. She was cruel and loved to cause pain to any who fall short of her views on the world.
People like Harry himself.
Harry was awake and sat bleeding on his bed. He had no hope and his thoughts were filled with nothing but survival. He was little more than an animal. Living, day to day, for any type of food and drink. He even lived in his own waste and other bodily fluids. That woman's scream echoed in Harry's head as he tried to get himself out of bed. Kinda hard, when he was neck deep in depression and pain.
His godfather had just died and for the first time since his third year summer, he was FREAK. He was not Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. He was the personal toy, servant of the Dursley's household. And the state of his body showed that.
His ebony locks were overgrown and dull. It was matted and full of un-nameable substances. He had multiple broken bones and bruises from the beatings of his Uncle and Cousin. Whip marks covered Harry's back, privates, chest, and thighs. Words were carved into his chest; whore, freak, murderer. Burn marks covered his arms and hands; punishment for imagined crimes against food.
Worse than the torturous beatings and burnings was when he was asked to clean himself off. Then the real punishment began.
Harry was just finishing lunch when his Aunt came into the kitchen. "Freak! Wash and clean yourself." She sneered as she went to leave. "Be down in the basement in 3 hours." With that she was gone.
Harry felt fear course through his body. Please no. he was whimpering quietly in his mind, desperate to not have this happen again. Having no choice, though, Harry went to wash up. Scrubbing the filth off of his body Harry felt the familiar numbness start to creep over his mind. He worked automatically. Following steps long since practiced.
Once he was done he looked in the mirror. Harry was disgusted by what he saw. His hair limply fell down to his shoulders. Bruises covered his face in a terrifying array of black, blue, purple, and yellow. Clothes way too big for him hung off his malnourished body like the shin of an old pug. Worse though were the barley healed scabs on his wrists and ankles. A testament to what he was living through.
Looking at the time, Harry noticed that he had less than 10 minutes to get into the basement.
Walking down the hall, Harry felt shame creep upon him. He could do nothing to stop this. His wandless magic made useless by the wards around the house. And he had been trained since he was five not to question orders or tell what was happening. Not even five years at Hogwarts could change that. It had been programmed into him, and he could only silently scream for help.
The basement was plain and separated into to sides. On side had a concrete floor and was filled with boxes the other had white tiles, a bed with no covers, and a big metal box by the wall. The memories of passed pain and shame seemed to seep out of the walls. Passed echoes of screams and whimpering filled the room. The horror imprinted in the vary walls of the room.
Harry walked to the bed and kneeled down next to it face down, pointing to the door. He waited with dread for his Uncle to return. He didn't have to wait long.
Vernon Dursleys was slowly losing his mind. He had, unknowingly, managed to partake in the vilest of deeds. The raping of a wizard child, the stealing of innocence, he had cursed himself to a life of torment. So it was that this deranged and cursed man walked to the kneeling figure of his nephew. Slowly he lumbered across the room. Reveling in the fear and disappear evident on Harry's pale face.
"Strip." The Vernon's voice was deep with anticipation for what was to come. He hungered for it, for the knowledge that he was more powerful, that he was above he child that Vernon had tortured all Harry's life. He watched with eager eyes as harry slowly started to relieve him of clothes. The sight of his shaking scar covered form exited him as each piece of cloth was removed.
Shame. Fear. Acceptance. These feeling spun about in Harry's mind as he followed the commands of his uncle. "Get on the bed and kneel with your ass in the air like the slut you are."Positioning himself, Harry prepared for the pain that always came. He heard the rustling of cloth behind him as Vernon got rid of his own clothes.
The bed dipped as the man's large form crawled behind him. Fingers roughly pushed themselves into his opening. "Do you like that slut?" the fingers, three of them, twisted and tuned, forced in and out as his Uncle tried to find his prostrate. The minute the nerves inside of him were touched Harry screamed and groaned out in pleasure and shame.
His uncle was going to make his body enjoy this.
A few seconds later and the fingers were removed. Harry forced himself not to tense up in the hopes of relieving some of the pain. Without any warning Vernon quickly seated himself in Harry's arse. Without waiting he started to thrust in and out. The pain filled every nerve ending. No screams left Harry's lips. Only whimpers and groans that could easily be mistaken for pleasure.
As Vernon neared completion he roughly pulled on Harry's cock; forcing him to come. Three thrusts later and he had emptied his load inside of Harry's abused Body.
Slowly dressing Vernon left Harry bleeding and broken on the bed.
Harry lay in bed and slowly allowed his mind to return. He couldn't help but remember how he came to be here. The pain of how he was doomed to this hell. Harry cursed with all his might as pain filled his mind and heart.
As Harry arrived in Dumbledore's office his knees buckled underneath him. Looking around he saw that everything was how he'd remembered it. Yet now everything was different. Sirius was dead.Harry bowed his head under the wave of guilt and anguish that threatened to over p
The loneness that welled up as he sat on the floor in the silent office was stifling. The stillness was only broken by Fawkes's silent breathing.
Suddenly as if a dam broke Harry was crying. His sobs cut through the silence like a sharpened knife. His body shuddered and shook as, for the first time, he cried for his life and what he went through. The loss of his parents, the abuse and neglect of his guardians, the lies, the manipulations, and the worlds need to dump its problems on a 15 year old boy.
It was as he was hit be the unfairness of this that he relised it was all someone else's fault. How was he supposed to know that Voldemort could send false images to his mind? Snape should have told him. He also should not have to live with the world on his shoulders. Also he could get out of the abuse if he told someone. Right?
At this moment he knew something had changed. He no longer felt the guilt. Harry knew what his part in Sirius's death was, but the burden had lessoned. He felt that he could grieve in peace. Yes his actions led to Sirius's death, but they where not the whole cause. He can accept that and move on.
At this moment the fire flared green and out of the fireplace stepped Dumbledore. When the older man looked at Harry there was a cold emotionless look on his face.
"Get up boy" Dumbledore's voice was like Steel. Harry hastened to comply confused. Why does Dumbledore sound like that? "That was such a stupid thing you did boy. Do you know what you could've done! Years of work, out the window. You where ten seconds from ruining everything."
"But it was not my fault!" Harry intervened.
"It was your fault. You can't be doing stuff like that" Dumbledore suddenly pointed his wand at his penseive. A figured appeared on the surface and said…..
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…" (Page 841 "Harry potter and the Order of the Phoenix")
You are the one who must defeat the Dark Lord! Do you understand? You can't be rushing off to save people who don't matter in the war to come. Your one priority is to keep yourself safe." Dumbledore was literally spitting at the end of his speech
No. Why was he doing this? Wait at least now I can get out of the Dursleys. Harry looked strait at Dumbledore and said" well if you want me safe then I shouldn't go to the Dursleys. They abuse and neglect me. I'm not safe there."
Dumbledore stared at harry for a few seconds then burst out laughing" oh I know they do. I'm the most powerful wizard alive, how could I not know. A little discipline and hardships aren't that bad. Learn to grow up."
Harry felt crushed. If Dumbledore, a man he thought of as a mentor and grandfather didn't care for him, who would?
Harry had made Hedwig stay at Hagrid's hut and was sent to his relatives'. Two days later Dumbledore sent a letter to his relatives' informing him of Sirius's death. That night the torture began. Since then Harry had been alone in hell. Forced to become a slave to ignorant and filthy humans.
He was nearing his limit, the pain was becoming to much and some thing needed to change.
That's it. I'm done, fed up. As far as I'm concerned the world could go fuck itself and find a new savior. It only took a minute to decide what to do.
Harry was furious, how could he not be, this was the final straw. If he really mattered so little, then he didn't need to be there anyways.
Quietly and slowly, careful and mindful of his hurts, Harry got out of bed and dressed. His uncle had forgotten to look the door so Harry was able to leave. He walked to the cupboard and removed a pouch from inside his trunk. The pouch could be pulled over his head and was an able to fit anything while still feeling weightless. In it was his wand, cloak, photo album, two sacks of both muggle and wizarding money, and his books.
He left though the back door. Focusing hard on his thoughts Harry changed into a black and emerald storm phoenix. He had discovered in his third year that he was a multi-animagus and that he could use wandless magic. And tonight that ability helped to escape his prison.
Flying on silent wings Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Savior, and Chosen one, escaped with. None the wiser.
(AN: soo how was it.)