Silver soul

Raised red, pink and white keloids and lines accumulated across his skin for the next four years.

A lot had happened over the past four years of Harry Potter's life: he'd found out his parents were murdered and his dad was not an alcoholic who killed himself and his mother in a car crash, he found out he was a wizard just like both his parents, he started attending a special school for witches and wizards like himself, made many knew friends (and rivals), found out he had a godfather who'd been in prison for the past 13 years and right now; he'd been signed up for the Triwizard tournament (a notoriously difficult competition between 3 of the best wizarding schools in Europe) against his will.

Harry had a particularly difficult summer of the year going into his fourth year at Hogwarts. Sure it was filled with many exciting endeavours towards the end, having gone to the Quidditch world cup with the Weasleys then (to his delight) spending the rest of the summer  with them. But the times before then had been his usual round of torture staying with the Dursleys. After Harry had gone off to Hogwarts and came back for the summer, by the end Uncle Vernon had stopped his usual 'behaviours' probably viewing him as a threat. It had been three long years of his mind internally etching the memories of his Uncle's assault. He finally discovered what he'd put up with through his childhood wasn't normal at all. It was not simply 'fatherly love'. Realising all this opened up a whole knew box of emotions for, his mind constantly heavy from the thoughts that plagued him. At one point he'd found himself sliding a blade across his arms and legs nearly everyday. He hoped in doing so it would make his undesirable to Vernon, maybe just maybe make him stop. 

It didn't.

The summer of 1994 started off rough. He was upset that he couldn't go live with his godfather, Sirius, he didn't want to be selfish and admit that he'd been slightly let down by the claim that he could finally be free of the Dursleys, be free of his Uncle specifically, but he felt as though he had every right to be selfish. When he stepped through the door, Vernon instantly grabbed his hair and dragged him upstairs to the bedroom. And that was all it took. Third year had been alright, for the most part he'd managed to stay clean (only because he'd been too busy thinking a mass murderer had been after him all year). But this had been it, his breaking point. Something in him finally snapped and he realised: it was never going to get better. For the first time in long time he cried as Vernon violated him in every possible way. Eyes squeezed shut whilst gentle sobs escaped his mouth. When he'd finished, Uncle Vernon dragged him drown the stairs and threw him back in the cupboard. He'd not been in there since he was 11 but Harry figured that it was all part of the torment he had to with hold. This continued for the rest of the summer. 

Ron and Hermione gave him many worrying glances through the last week of summer. The brooding bruise on his cheek bone was their main cause for concern. But they simply could not ignore each and every flinch when someone got to close to him or the tossing and turning in his sleep, waking up in cold sweat half way through the night. 

"You alright, mate?" Ron had asked one day, they'd been alone sitting in the summer sun on one of the last days of the holidays.

"Hm? Yeah.. course I am. Why?" Harry responded simply, he felt guilty about lying but he couldn't admit to anyone what had happened, honestly not even himself.

"Dunno.. You just seem kind of out of it." 

Harry instinctively reached down to play with his long sleeve, he'd always felt overly self-conscious about his scars. Nobody had ever seen them, other than Uncle Vernon, he'd thought whilst chomping harshly down on his cheek. Not to mention after the first assault of the summer, he'd picked the habit back up again. 

"Well I'm fine."

"Harry.. I don't think you are." Ron frowned, looking at the other boy in his green eyes.

"I.." he felt everything bubbling up to the surface, about to spill out his mouth. But he couldn't say it. As much as he wanted to, if he did he'd never get over the shame of it. He'd let it happen. He was 14 for Merlin's sake, he was supposed to be able to fight his own battles. "I really am fine, Ron."

"You'd tell me if you weren't?"

"Yeah, course." Harry smiled, lying through his teeth.

The ginger smiled back, laying a comforting hand on his friends' shoulder. Butterflies swirled in his stomach from the contact as his cheeks turned slightly pink, a feeling he'd tried to internalise since he was 12. The ravenette's shoulders had tensed and Ron's eyes flickered with concern again but decided not to bring it up. 

As the months went by Harry's arms built up with more and more self-inflicted wounds. Since he'd started- when he was 10- they'd gotten deeper, not on purpose, he'd just gradually started to become immune to the original pain. It didn't given him the same effect. 

After he'd been chose by the Goblet of Fire, Ron grew some kind of resentment towards Harry because he hadn't told him that he'd put his name in it. But truth was, he didn't know how it got there in the first place and now he was absolutely terrified about the tournament and he was going into it pretty much alone. Hermione was great, but she just wasn't the same as Ron...

"You miss him!" Hermione had pointed out one day. He'd blushed at this, having to turn away to hide his face. She was completely and utterly  correct. The tension in their dorm room had become unbearable, only Neville Longbottom would actually speak to him, Dean and Seamus were even ignoring the boy and would immediately stop speaking when he'd entered the room.

One night, Harry had a particularly bad nightmare. He'd been trying to avoid sleep for so long, knowing the moment he tried to get a good rest he would be disturbed by all he'd ever been through.

In this nightmare, or flashback really, he was reliving the first time his Uncle had ever assaulted him. Eight years old again and completely naïve. All he had wanted was someone to love him. Harry recalled how much he cried the first time. He didn't like it. He didn't understand. He was oblivious as to why his Uncle had taken his clothes off, revealing his malnourished body. The pain reverberated throughout him along with the rough grip on his wrists and remained for days, weeks, months after. And just as it started to fade, it happened again. And again. Again. Againagainagainagainagain. Until he'd finally learned to stop crying. 

Harry awoke with a start. As he tried to gasp for air a few wet sobs escaped his mouth, tears trickled down his face as he quickly ran to the bathroom, feeling bile emerge up his throat. The moment he hung his head over the toilet, his stomach came out his mouth. He wiped his lips with a pyjama sleeve and turned to look at himself in the mirror. Tears were hurriedly cascading down his face despite his attempt to wipe them away. All he could feel was Vernon's venomous touch sting his skin like acid. The sickening grunts rushed past his ears

He couldn't breathe.

Falling to the ground with a clatter, Harry clasped onto the bathroom sink, trying to hold onto something that would hopefully stop him being brought back to Number 4 Privet Drive. But all he could think about was the past summer. Every shower he'd taken after being let out his cupboard. Scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing desperately at his skin. Removing Uncle Vernon's scent from himself.

A knock echoed through the bathroom, the door gently opened.

"Harry?" It was Ron.

Eyebrows knit close together as he warily crouched down in front of the other.

"Look- I know I've been, well, a bit of a git... But I still care about you. I was just trying to prove a point, to be honest." he tried to lighten the mood and it slightly worked, Harry slightly gaining control of his breathing again. "What's wrong?"

The ravenette exhaled a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like everything could come tumbling out of his mouth at any moment. He didn't want it to. Harry  just broke down infront of ginger. Embarrassingly so, he let out a loud sob then quickly clasped his hand to his mouth to prevent another one escaping. 

Ron hesitated before quickly bringing Harry into a tight hug, the latter buried his face in Weasley's neck, gripping tightly on the fabric of his knit jumper. 

He mustered up all the courage he could to try and least say something, "My- Uncle Vernon he-" but he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, gripping further onto the other's jumper, focussing onto the fabric in his palm and not the overwhelming sense of dread welling up inside him.

"I'm really worried about you." he whispered into the boy's ear, "I'm not going to pressure you to tell me what's wrong but... I am here for you. Y'know, if you wanna tell me.."

Harry finally broke free of the hug and stared into the red-head's blue eyes, apprehension swimming in them.

"What did your Uncle do, Harry?" Ron asked, gently taking a hold of the ravenette's hands in a comforting manner.

As he shook his head, Harry's breathing quickened instantly, the tears stills running down his face. "I can't- I can't say."

"That's fine.. you don't have to. Might help though." said Ron, who was now growing increasingly nervous, wondering about what Vernon could've possibly done.

It had been six long years since the first time. He'd been keeping this secret nearly half his life, the whole time he had wanted to tell someone and just never did; too scared of what Uncle Vernon would've done. All the self-deprecating thoughts, all the nightmares, the self-harm. He'd had enough of keeping this weight on his shoulders.

"He- he raped me" Harry's voice cracked as he spoke in a whisper, so low the other had to lean in to hear him.

Ron's eyes instantly widened and his eyebrows knit together closely. The ginger immediately pulled his friend into another tight hug but this time he was crying too. He gripped onto Harry's pyjama shirt as they both cried in each other's embrace. Harry didn't understand why his friend was crying too, but he figured that meant at least he didn't blame the ravenette and think he let it happen. Because he hadn't, He tried all he could to fight his Uncle off him, ever since he was eight years old. He tried and tried and tried. Vernon had just always managed to over power him. 

"Harry-I'm so sorry.. I-" his words were muffled from speaking into the crook of the other's neck, so he pulled away and clasped both hands onto his shoulder's. "How long?"

He inhaled sharply, "Since I was eight. I didn't- I didn't even understand what was happening. I thought 'that's just how an Uncle shows their love'. I only realised a few years ago what had happened was assault." Harry managed to mumble between sniffles.

Another tear fell down the ginger's freckled face, he brought a hand up to Harry's cheek, caressing it gently as he wiped away the tears. 

"You're amazing.." Ron whispered, "You've gone through all that alone... I'm sorry I've been so mardy with you the past couple months.. I- I missed you a lot."

Emerald greens stared back into sapphire blues, the distance gradually closed between them before they stopped, noses brushing against each other and their hot breaths caressing their faces. Harry leaned in and they kissed. Mixed with tears and emotion they lingered on each other's lips before pulling away with a gasp. Ron laid his forehead against Harry's and they smiled, staring back into their eyes.

"I'll be with you every step of the way."

Another tear ran down Harry's face but this time he smiled. He had hope everything would finally be okay.