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Away From Home - Chapter One. (Harry Potter Fanfiction)
Read Artist Comments for Story Description. Warning; contains abuse. Nothing sexual, though.
Harsh, ragged breaths escape from pale, chapped lips. Almost over. This forsaken summer was almost over, and the young wizard could escape this Hell-hole that was supposed to be his 'house'. The white, dusty walls of the cupboard in which he resides seem to drive him insane, and his bony hands tremble. How many more days? He wasn't sure. The Dursleys had left him locked in there while they were out on vacation, left with only a few slices of bread and half of a glass of water. That meal was supposed to last him two weeks. Luckily, he assumes that those two weeks are almost over.
How long had it been already? It felt like months, but the boy assumes it had only been about 12 days or so. His frail body collapses on the thin, broken bed that was given to him. The Dursleys would be home any day now, giving the boy only a small while to mentally and physically prepare himself for the beatings that were sure to follow their return. He sighs, tossing and turning. How was he going to deal with this for another month? That was it, though. One more month and he could go back to Hogwarts - his real home. Though he had only gone to the Wizarding school for one year, he already felt as if that was much more of a home than this cupboard could ever be.
After staring at the wall for several more minutes, the black haired boy is able to drift into a fitful sleep. Though filled with nightmares, and though he woke up many times, it was still sleep. And it was much more than welcome.
--
"Boy! Goddammit boy, get out here!" the harsh voice echoes, followed quickly with the sound of pounding on his door. Harry rouses himself hurriedly, rubbing his eyes furiously before grabbing his glasses. How long had he been sleeping? The question quickly slides from his mind. The pounding continues, even more furiously.
His bare feet thud onto the ground and he dashes over to the door, tossing it open in a hurry. The boy's heart stops in his chest when he sees his so-called 'uncle' Vernon looming over him, mere inches from the doorway.
"There you are, you little freak," he snaps as he grabs Harry by his hair, pulling roughly on the greasy follicles. The child tries as hard as he can not to shout out, for he know that sounding his pain would pleasure the large man into doing worse. Vernon leans down, his foul breath causing Harry's eyes to water.
A sick grin shows yellowed teeth, and he pulls harder on the boy's hair. "I thought I had told you to be out of your cupboard and have dinner on the table by the time we came home."
Harry closes his eyes a bit, knowing that cooking dinner would have been impossible; Vernon's just as twisted wife had locked the cupboard door before they had left, just to make sure the freak did not escape. The boy did not say anything though, knowing that objecting would lead to much more severe punishments. Vernon, though, was still not pleased with the child's lack of communication. His thick hand grips tighter into the child's hair, shaking his head roughly. His other hand curls into a threatening fist.
"Well, freak? Answer me!" The fist is brought into harsh contact with Harry's abdomen, "Were you or were you not supposed to have dinner prepared for us, you useless twat?" Harry chokes out a small 'yessir' as blood sputters from between his lips. Vernon lets go of his hair, but this time brings his meaty fist in contect with the child's face. A sickening crack echoes through the room, yet Harry is unsure if it was from the sudden pain shooting through his jaw, or his glasses snapping.
Either way, he feels the warmth of blood seep into his mouth and trickle down his chin again. Stumbling backwards, he is roughly slammed against the wall.
"Stay here," Vernon grumbles to the boy as he walks off. The sound of a cane scraping on tile can be heard from the other room, and Harry shudders; that was never a good sound. He attempts to adjust his glasses before the large man comes rumbling in again. He looks down at Harry with a sick smile, waving the wooden cane around. Harry knew the routine, and stands up, turning to have his back face his twisted uncle.
The first swing lands with another crack echoing through the room, followed by his uncle's laughter. The boy sucks in a sharp breath, trying with all of his might not to cry out. He would not give his uncle that pleasure. Harry feels the pain stab through his back, and can't help but fall over as his back is struck with the harsh wooden cane. Another loud crack against the boy's back; another sharp stab of pain.
Harry bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, still not wanting to allow Vernon the pleasure of hearing his cries. The child can feel a few ribs shatter under the impact, and the crack this time was almost sickening.
Harry shudders violently, finding it harder to hold back cries with each slam against his thin body. He can feel the welts starting to rise, the blood starting to trickle its way from the wounds. After a few more of the vicious blows to his back, a cry finally tears itself from the child's rough, parched throat. He now wishes that he had finished the glass of water before coming out here, but it was too late for that now.
The boy feels blood well in the back of his throat, and tries everything he can not to spit it out onto the wooden flooring. Another swing of the cane, though, forces the blood to sputter out of his mouth as he lets out another cry. Harry can almost hear Vernon's grin as he starts to swing the cane harder, slamming it against the back of the boy's head. He cries out as light flash behind his eyelids, and he feels himself hit the ground with a thud.
Yet, even after the fall of the child, the round man looming over him continues to pound him with the cane. Harry feels the tears fall down his bruised cheeks, and he lets out a small whimper of a sob. One last thought ran through the boy's head before darkness hazed his mind: this was going to be a long month.
This was going to be a very, very long month indeed
Read Artist Comments for Story Description. Warning; contains abuse. Nothing sexual, though.
Harsh, ragged breaths escape from pale, chapped lips. Almost over. This forsaken summer was almost over, and the young wizard could escape this Hell-hole that was supposed to be his 'house'. The white, dusty walls of the cupboard in which he resides seem to drive him insane, and his bony hands tremble. How many more days? He wasn't sure. The Dursleys had left him locked in there while they were out on vacation, left with only a few slices of bread and half of a glass of water. That meal was supposed to last him two weeks. Luckily, he assumes that those two weeks are almost over.
How long had it been already? It felt like months, but the boy assumes it had only been about 12 days or so. His frail body collapses on the thin, broken bed that was given to him. The Dursleys would be home any day now, giving the boy only a small while to mentally and physically prepare himself for the beatings that were sure to follow their return. He sighs, tossing and turning. How was he going to deal with this for another month? That was it, though. One more month and he could go back to Hogwarts - his real home. Though he had only gone to the Wizarding school for one year, he already felt as if that was much more of a home than this cupboard could ever be.
After staring at the wall for several more minutes, the black haired boy is able to drift into a fitful sleep. Though filled with nightmares, and though he woke up many times, it was still sleep. And it was much more than welcome.
--
"Boy! Goddammit boy, get out here!" the harsh voice echoes, followed quickly with the sound of pounding on his door. Harry rouses himself hurriedly, rubbing his eyes furiously before grabbing his glasses. How long had he been sleeping? The question quickly slides from his mind. The pounding continues, even more furiously.
His bare feet thud onto the ground and he dashes over to the door, tossing it open in a hurry. The boy's heart stops in his chest when he sees his so-called 'uncle' Vernon looming over him, mere inches from the doorway.
"There you are, you little freak," he snaps as he grabs Harry by his hair, pulling roughly on the greasy follicles. The child tries as hard as he can not to shout out, for he know that sounding his pain would pleasure the large man into doing worse. Vernon leans down, his foul breath causing Harry's eyes to water.
A sick grin shows yellowed teeth, and he pulls harder on the boy's hair. "I thought I had told you to be out of your cupboard and have dinner on the table by the time we came home."
Harry closes his eyes a bit, knowing that cooking dinner would have been impossible; Vernon's just as twisted wife had locked the cupboard door before they had left, just to make sure the freak did not escape. The boy did not say anything though, knowing that objecting would lead to much more severe punishments. Vernon, though, was still not pleased with the child's lack of communication. His thick hand grips tighter into the child's hair, shaking his head roughly. His other hand curls into a threatening fist.
"Well, freak? Answer me!" The fist is brought into harsh contact with Harry's abdomen, "Were you or were you not supposed to have dinner prepared for us, you useless twat?" Harry chokes out a small 'yessir' as blood sputters from between his lips. Vernon lets go of his hair, but this time brings his meaty fist in contect with the child's face. A sickening crack echoes through the room, yet Harry is unsure if it was from the sudden pain shooting through his jaw, or his glasses snapping.
Either way, he feels the warmth of blood seep into his mouth and trickle down his chin again. Stumbling backwards, he is roughly slammed against the wall.
"Stay here," Vernon grumbles to the boy as he walks off. The sound of a cane scraping on tile can be heard from the other room, and Harry shudders; that was never a good sound. He attempts to adjust his glasses before the large man comes rumbling in again. He looks down at Harry with a sick smile, waving the wooden cane around. Harry knew the routine, and stands up, turning to have his back face his twisted uncle.
The first swing lands with another crack echoing through the room, followed by his uncle's laughter. The boy sucks in a sharp breath, trying with all of his might not to cry out. He would not give his uncle that pleasure. Harry feels the pain stab through his back, and can't help but fall over as his back is struck with the harsh wooden cane. Another loud crack against the boy's back; another sharp stab of pain.
Harry bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, still not wanting to allow Vernon the pleasure of hearing his cries. The child can feel a few ribs shatter under the impact, and the crack this time was almost sickening.
Harry shudders violently, finding it harder to hold back cries with each slam against his thin body. He can feel the welts starting to rise, the blood starting to trickle its way from the wounds. After a few more of the vicious blows to his back, a cry finally tears itself from the child's rough, parched throat. He now wishes that he had finished the glass of water before coming out here, but it was too late for that now.
The boy feels blood well in the back of his throat, and tries everything he can not to spit it out onto the wooden flooring. Another swing of the cane, though, forces the blood to sputter out of his mouth as he lets out another cry. Harry can almost hear Vernon's grin as he starts to swing the cane harder, slamming it against the back of the boy's head. He cries out as light flash behind his eyelids, and he feels himself hit the ground with a thud.
Yet, even after the fall of the child, the round man looming over him continues to pound him with the cane. Harry feels the tears fall down his bruised cheeks, and he lets out a small whimper of a sob. One last thought ran through the boy's head before darkness hazed his mind: this was going to be a long month.
This was going to be a very, very long month indeed
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Harry comes from a very abusive household; emotionally, physically, mentally. Coming close to the beginning of his second year, though, a very unexpected Professor discovers Harry's abuse and is forced to take the child into his own care. T for abuse.
First Fanfiction whhhooo. \o/ I have only read One good Harry abuse fanfic, and it was really touching. So I thought hay, why not? C:
I hope you enjoy.
Harry Potter is most DEFINITELY (c) J.K. Rowling. Not me. ;3;
First Fanfiction whhhooo. \o/ I have only read One good Harry abuse fanfic, and it was really touching. So I thought hay, why not? C:
I hope you enjoy.
Harry Potter is most DEFINITELY (c) J.K. Rowling. Not me. ;3;
© 2011 - 2025 Kya-Pika-Wolf
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Uncle Vernon is such a slut. :C