His sixth year at Hogwarts, one year after leaving the dursleys. You’d think he’d gotten over it by now.
A year ago. And he still wasn’t over it.
And because he still wasn’t over it, he had found himself in this.. Situation. If only he could move on, and get over himself, he wouldn’t need to worry about things like this.
Harry could currently be found huddled in a corner, hiding from his fellow hogwart students.
Ever since the incident- as some might call it- with the bogart, the, much meaner, kids around the school had decided it’d be jolly old fun to trigger harry.
If they knew the reaction they were getting out of Harry, they either didn’t care, or simply didn’t notice.
Often times, when Harry was making his way down the halls the large boys would start undo their belts as though they were going to hurt Harry.
Why they do this, Harry didn’t know. Though he did know he wanted it to stop.
Harry had defeated Voldemort god dammit, he was supposed to be looked up to and respected. He had saved the whole damn wizarding world, and yet, they all thought he was joke.
Just because his fucking uncle was an abusive asshole.
At the time Harry sat in a, mostly, hidden corner where he could watch the students walk by without being spotted. Soon he saw the last of the students trickle out of the once boistering hall.
Now, he decided, it would be safe to finally get off to class.
Ron and Hermione of course knew all about the abuse he had received when living in the muggle world. It was, after all, hard to hide things from Hermione. Hermione had begged Harry to go to the muggle police or something to get Vernon off his back, but each time she had mentioned this, he would brush her off or change the subject.
I mean who would they believe, Harry? Who virtually meant nothing in the muggle world. Or Vernon, who had an important job, and a reputation to keep?
After the bogart and going up to Madam Pomfrey's a week ago, Harry could not stop thinking about Draco. And he could only hope Draco was in the same boat.
Throughout the week Harry could often find Draco staring off into space, or staring at him. Which for some reason became his favorite thing to find.
It became a sort of game for him to count how many times Harry could catch Draco staring at him. The record so far was five, in one lunch period.
Why this interested him so much, harry couldn’t tell you for he had no idea.
Anyway back to the present.
Harry made his way down the deserted hall, looking behind him every few seconds to make sure no one was going to take a stab at terrorizing him from behind.
After thinking he heard footsteps several times, Harry stopped, turned around, and stared unblinkingly at the end of the corridor. When he was 99% sure no one was following him, he turned around. And what he did next was most humiliating.
He gave a tiny start and a loud- especially in the quiet corridor- gasp as he looked up at two large replicas, of Vernon Dursley.
God he hated this school right now.
Harry looked up daringly. Though he was scared out of his mind he was not going to show it. Harry opened his mouth, to say what exactly, he didn’t know. Maybe ‘fuck off’ or ‘get a life’, maybe something a bit more rude.
But before he could even make a sound, one of the large dursleys yelled.
“Disgusting freak!” He said.
And, oh, if that wasn’t familiar.
And, god, if it wasn’t horrible.
Oh, and, fuck, if he wasn’t rattled to the bone.
Harry knew the fear shone in his eyes. As they advanced toward him, Harry felt himself freeze. Not knowing what to do.
One of the Vernons began to take off their belt, and for some reason, he didn't move.
Move dammit, Harry thought, but the look of the belt being slid from the loopholes of “Vernon’s” jeans seemed to render him paralyzed.
Harry closed his eyes after seeing the belt was free, and began to be raised above the left Vernon’s head, it came crashing down, but not at Harry. An inch or two next to Harry’s head, he could hear the belt hit the floor.
Harry’s breath came out in ragged gasps as the two Vernon’s continued to almost hit Harry.
Somewhere in Harry’s head he could hear screams of fear. Someone yelling stop. But then as the last belt came down he realized it had been him screaming, and pleading for them to stop.
Shame filled Harry as he looked up to see the two Vernon’s laughing viscously at the shaken state they had left him in.
As they began to walk away Harry felt himself crying. His breath still coming out in short gasps he knew he couldn’t go to class. So he made his way to the only place he wouldn’t be disturbed.
Well by someone living anyway.
Harry still shaking profusely finally made it to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He sat down trembling in the furthest stall he knew to be Myrtles.
Finally by himself he began sobbing.
Not just lot’s of tears and gasps for air for every few seconds, but full on heart-wrenching sobs. Sobs that were so loud could probably be heard a few classrooms down.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Vernon Dursley, about how his uncle had made him feel for most of his life. God, he wished his parents lived. And with the thought of his parents’ death, Harry grew angry.
No, livid.
He screamed, god did he scream.
He screamed at Voldemort, at whoever was pretending to be his uncle. But most of all Harry screamed at his parents. Shoving his tear stained hands against his head, and pushing his knees to his chest Harry screamed as the tears ran down his face and all the people who had hurt him ran through his head.
As his voice grew hoarse, he began to yell.
“FUCK YOU JAMES POTTER, AND FUCK YOU LILY POTTER.” He yelled at his deceased loved ones. “YOU HAD NO RIGHT-” His voice cut off from overuse and the last few words came out in a small whisper. “To leave me.”
Harry felt broken inside, like the whole school finally saw him for what he was.
He wasn’t a ‘savior’, he never really was. He tried to tell people that before he had killed voldemort. But having killed him it was almost impossible to convince people he wasn’t some saint.
Oh how they would believe him now.
Perhaps it was the screaming, or maybe his absence from the great hall for dinner, that caused Draco to look for Harry at all.
An hour, or maybe it had been minutes- Harry couldn’t tell- Draco burst into the bathroom, looking frantic.
“Oh god there you are Harry.” He quickly strode over to him, taking in the state he was in. “You weren’t in the great hall, and someone said they had heard screaming in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, I just knew it was you, oh god, are you okay?”
Draco babbled on, taking off the cool mask Harry had realized he wore over the past week. They hadn’t actually talked really, for the most part they had just exchanged glances in the great hall during meals.
When Harry didn’t answer, Draco sat next to him.
“What happened?” He all but whispered in his stupid concerned voice.
Harry didn’t deserve to be concerned about, know one needs to worry about him because he didn’t deserve it. And with these thoughts he grew angry once again.
“Everything.” Harry whispered almost inaudibly, not wanting to take out his anger on someone undeserving like Draco.
“What was that?” Draco asked, he hadn’t heard Harry as he wasn’t expecting an answer and was only half listening.
Harry felt it harder to keep his anger in check. “Everything.” He said again, this time louder and clearer, for Draco’s seemingly deaf ears.
“What does that mean?” Harry did not want to explain, and, with one last futile attempt at containing his anger, he stood up.
“IT MEANS IM FUCKING DONE!” He exclaimed. “I JUST-I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS!” He stopped as a sob threatened to escape his mouth, he spoke again fighting the large lump building in his throat. “I’m so done.”
Draco, alarmed at what ‘done’ meant, stood up just as abruptly as Harry had. But instead of yelling he stepped ever so close to Harry.
They didn’t need to speak, they looked at each other, as they had many times before, but this time was different.
They stared openly at each other, any facade taken away. Harry felt oh so vulnerable, unlike he had ever felt before. His eyes filled with the pain of years of abuse, and Draco’s filled with understanding.
The only person who could get anything out of Harry, without him having to utter a single word.
Finally after several minutes of analyzation, from both Harry and Draco’s sides. Draco knew what he could do to make Harry feel better.
Circling his arms around the small, but surprisingly muscular waist of Harry, Draco hugged him.
And Harry cried.
And Draco let him.