Title: Punished (1)
Author: Constant Vigilance
Status: Fin
Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Website: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Spoilers: AU. Characters will be entering 6^th year.
Warnings: Language, slash, violence, torture, implied rape
Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR is God.
Summary: Harry escapes Privet Drive with help from an unlikely source.
Notes: This part includes scenes of child abuse and violence.

(Dudley’s POV)

 

I had never before, and never since, heard such a sound. It would haunt me to my dying day. Harry has long since forgiven me for my ‘childhood foibles’ as he calls them. But I have not. I never can. Because every time I believe I have made peace with myself…I hear it again.

 

Screaming.

 

No. Not screaming. It was so much more than screaming. It was pain and horror. Betrayal and fear. It was fifteen years of feeling unloved and unwanted, hated and scorned. It was fifteen years of punishments not deserved, of love not given. It was guttural. It was terrifying. It was unlike anything I’d ever heard before. And it was issuing forth from the throat of my cousin.

 

Father was angry. A cup of hot tea had spilled. I don’t know how. After everything was all over, it seemed like such a stupid thing to ask: how did the cup spill? But I still wonder. Is that obsessive of me? Perhaps. But I think someone should know how events were set in motion. In any event, Father blamed Harry, as he usually did. I know that I used to back father on things like that. Cheer him on as he blamed Harry for one stupid thing after another that really was no one’s fault.

 

I want to vomit now, each time I think of how my ‘support’ might have egged my father on to bigger and more painful punishments.

 

Father said Harry had magicked the cup to fall. To dirty the floor. I don’t know why father thought anyone would believe that. Harry, after all, would be the one to clean the tea up. And to mop the floor later. But now I realize that my father really didn’t need a reason. Harry drawing breath was a good enough reason for him. He bellowed at Harry. Saying that Harry could have burned me. He asked Harry if he knew what it felt like to be burned.

 

I didn’t know what was going to happen. I swear. How could I? My father wouldn’t do something like that. He was a good father. He loved me. But I suppose that, however good Father was at being a father, he was as evil as an uncle.

 

Harry said nothing. He never did. I think that may be a reason why I never really understood what father was doing, had been doing, to Harry for years. Harry simply never said anything. He never cried, at least where we could see him. He never yelled, nor screamed. He didn’t beg. He didn’t backtalk, though uncle was forever punishing him for it. And I didn’t have the understanding of corporal punishment to comprehend that just because one doesn’t scream doesn’t mean that the punishment is not severe.

 

Father was angry. Perhaps more so, because Harry refused to cower. He jerked Harry up out of the kitchen chair and grabbed a hold of the neckline of Harry’s shirt. My shirt. I remember wearing that shirt when I was eight. Now Harry wore it at 15. It was old. It was well washed. It practically disintegrated as father ripped it completely off of Harry’s chest.

 

I remember looking at Harry’s chest. Noting the silvery paths of scars. Noting the pink and healing ones. Wondering where they came from. And then father snatched Harry by the hair and dragged him from the table to the stove, screaming at him the whole while about endangering me. I watched as father slapped the teapot from the stove. I remember wondering how much more dangerous it was to send scalding liquid that was still on the stove to pool across the floor than it was to tip over a cup of tea cooled off with cold milk.

 

Then father lifted Harry by his handhold of hair. Harry was beginning to struggle now. I wondered why he hadn’t chosen to struggle earlier. Then I watched as father slammed Harry down on the teakettle burner. I watched as the glowing red burner met tanned skin. I watched as father held Harry down by leaning his weight on him.

 

And then the screaming started.

 

Harry screamed and screamed and screamed. He thrashed. He begged. He pleaded. He cried…he burned.

 

It smelled like frying meat. Like bacon or ham. It took me five years to be able to eat meat again. I suppose in a way, I have Harry to thank for my new look, my new healthy and trim body. Then again, looking for something good in that horrifying nightmare makes me sick to my stomach.

 

And still, father held Harry to the burner. Harry’s flesh seared and smoked. Harry screamed until he was turning hoarse. Then, mercifully, he passed out. He hung limp in father’s hands. Apparently, father wasn’t as pleased with a Harry who couldn’t feel his punishment any longer. He dropped him. He dropped Harry to the floor and then calmly stepped over him.

 

He plucked up a piece of toast from his plate and announced that he had to be getting to work. He then ruffled my hair and kissed mum on the cheek before jauntily sauntering out the front door.

 

We sat in silence for long moments, mum and I. Just staring at the broken boy in a heap on the ground. I looked over at her, shock preventing me from speaking, and I saw the expression on her face. She had stopped fighting tears. They poured down her face. I’d never seen my mum cry before. I’d never seen my mum show any kind of emotion towards Harry. To see her crying over him now was like a dash of cold water to my wool-muffled brain.

 

I jumped out of my chair and dropped to my knees beside Harry. I reached out a hand to touch him, but couldn’t force it to actually come into contact with his skin. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked to see mum kneeling beside me. She didn’t seem to have the same problem as I. She lifted Harry’s head into her lap and began rocking him.

 

I remember her rocking me. I know it made me feel better. But I don’t remember her ever pleading to me for forgiveness. I don’t remember her ever telling me how sorry she was. How pathetic she was. How it should have been her to receive the punishment. It rather frightened me. Nearly as much as watching my cousin’s flesh burning on the stove where my eggs were cooked each morning.

 

Mum finally wiped her eyes and began biting out orders to me. I’d never heard her speak to me like that. I don’t think she’d ever told me to do anything in my life. She’d asked. She’d pleaded. She’d begged. But she’d never ordered me to do anything. I’d like to think that I would have followed the orders even if I wasn’t in a haze, but I don’t know.

 

I fetched the first aid kit from the sink and a rag from the bathroom and then I sat and watched my mum attempt to make some sense of my cousin. She pulled the tweezers from the kit and gently picked at a part of the burn. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t think she should be pulling it off. After all, she always yelled at me for picking at blisters. And Harry’s back was one big blister in the shape of a spiraling circle. In the shape of the kitchen burner.

 

I didn’t say anything, though. She was my mum and she knew best. As she gingerly pulled the piece of skin away, I realized it wasn’t skin. It was a bit of egg that had dripped on the burner. That had melted into my cousin’s flesh. A bit of egg not unlike the egg that sat on my plate five feet away.

 

I still can’t eat eggs to this day.

 

Mum smeared some burn ointment onto Harry’s back, flinching a bit as Harry moaned in his sleep. Sleep. As though he’d just fallen into a nap after having the skin of his back seared off.

 

By my father.

 

“Mum?” I asked. “Why did father do this?”

 

Mum just shook her head and the tears started again.

 

“Why did you let father do this to him?” was my next question. Mum was…omnipotent. She was mum. Why would she let father do something like this? When she didn’t speak, I thought about it some more. Father was always hurting Harry. Maybe he was hurting him more than even I saw. Maybe…maybe if Harry weren’t the one being hurt…maybe my father would hurt someone else. Maybe he would hurt me.

 

I have to admit, though it pains me to do so, that I was grateful to Harry in that moment. Grateful for being the one who took the abuse that father could have heaped on my mum or me. I hate the little bastard I was back then. I’ve built the person I am today strictly to be the antithesis of who I was back then. The only thing I haven’t changed since then is how much I love my mum.

 

I couldn’t even bring myself to imagine my mum in Harry’s place. Lying unconscious on the ground. Hurt like this. And so I hugged her. I hugged her and told her that I understood. But I didn’t. I still don’t. However, I’ll take that little secret with me to the grave.

 

When father came home that night, Harry was on the couch. He’d woken up about an hour after father left and had apologized for upsetting mum. Her hand flew to her throat and she choked on what looked like a sob. She just shook her head and pushed Harry back down to rest on his stomach on the couch. She brought him cold milk and a sandwich to eat and checked on his bandages every hour.

 

I refused to leave the house that day. Either my mum’s brief foray into dominance was over or she was just desperate to have someone else in the house with her, because she didn’t argue. I sat in the armchair next to the couch and watched Harry sleep.

 

The second the front door opened, Harry’s eyes shot open as well. It was like he sensed the predator back in the room. Father stormed over to the couch and demanded to know what the filth was doing lounging on his furniture. Mum tried to explain to him how hurt Harry was. Father just snorted and reached down to snatch at Harry’s hair again.

 

Harry glanced at me once as father dragged him up the stairs. I couldn’t read his expression. I didn’t know if he could read mine. I didn’t really know what mine would have said to him anyway. Mum began crying again and pleading for father to just let Harry be.

 

The door to my second bedroom slammed shut and we could hear muffled cries and thuds. I don’t know how long it went on. I went to my mum and wrapped my arms around her. For the first time in my life, I offered comfort to someone. And I realized that it felt good. I held her as much for me as for her until father came back down the stairs.

 

He immediately went to the kitchen to wash his hands. He should have changed his clothes. They were splattered with red. I felt the gorge rise in my throat as it clicked. The sounds…the red spots…the silence from upstairs.

 

“V-Vernon?” mum stuttered. Father returned with a smile.

 

“Don’t worry, Petunia,” he responded jovially. “The freak won’t be disturbing you tonight. He’s chained to the bed so he won’t go wandering about. And he’s asleep.”

 

Asleep.

 

Was he asleep now, I wonder, like he was asleep earlier today? Because his body couldn’t take any more abuse? Because it shut down?

 

Dinner was a silent affair. Mum made sandwiches from the refrigerator and soup in the microwave. “Petunia, why are we having a cold dinner?” Vernon frowned.

 

Mum shivered and glanced at the stove. I watched the chill make it’s way across her body. “It was such a hot day, Vernon,” she answered with a pasted on smile. “I thought you might be a bit overheated from working so hard.”

 

“Mmm,” father responded, placated for the moment. After dinner, father went into the living room and flicked on the telly. He generally sat in front of it for hours, sometimes falling asleep before it, so I knew I had some time.

 

I eyed mum and then looked up the stairs. Her eyes widened in horror but she just nodded, glancing into the living room. I poured a cup of water and snagged a straw. Mum pushed a roll into my hands, and I headed upstairs. I bypassed my room and went to my second bedroom. To Harry’s room. The padlocks weren’t done up yet. I shuddered. Did that mean father was coming back? I hoped that mum would be able to distract him long enough for me to get out of the room before he found me.

 

Carefully, I pushed the door open and slipped inside. Once there, I flicked the light on. I heard a brief intake of breath at the sudden light and turned to see Harry squinting. Or at least trying to. His eyes were too swollen to do much else.

 

For the nth time that day, I wanted to throw up.

 

Harry was chained to the bed, spread-eagled on his face…and naked. I searched desperately for a bit of skin that wasn’t broken or tinged with red. I didn’t find it. The room reeked of a heavy, musky odor that I couldn’t quite identify. As I turned fully to face the room, I saw my Smelting stick on the floor by Harry’s bed. It was no longer completely black. The glossy stick was now covered in the same red as Harry’s back.

 

“Harry?” I whispered. I could hear the fear in my own voice and I wanted to slap myself.

 

Harry’s eyes came back open and he looked across the room at me, squinting as I noticed for the first time that he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “D-Dudley?” he croaked.

 

I stepped closer, pointedly stepping over the blood drips on the carpet and avoiding the Smelting stick like the plague. “Yeah,” I whispered back. “It’s me.”

 

“Get the hell out, Dudley,” Harry hissed. “He’ll hurt you if he finds you in here.”

 

Oh God.

 

My legs were suddenly trembling. He was right. I knew it myself. My mum, on lookout downstairs, knew it. But hearing Harry say it, Harry who was living it, made it blindingly real. I sank to my knees at the side of the bed. I raised a shaking hand to Harry’s head, not really knowing why, just knowing that I needed to touch Harry. To make sure he was real. But he flinched away and my hand dropped.

 

“I brought you some water,” I said instead. “And some bread.”

 

Harry sighed then, and closed his eyes briefly. “I can’t sit up to drink, Dudley,” he pointed out.

 

“Its okay,” I smiled, knowing by the feel of my cheeks that my smile must have looked like a grimace. “I brought a straw as well.” I arranged the glass under his head and stuck the straw into it. In actions more gentle than I’d ever been with my cousin before, I slipped the straw in-between his swollen lips and allowed him to suck the cool drink into his mouth.

 

He pulled away far too soon in my opinion, but I set the water aside anyway; placing it in a nearby bookcase. “Would you like some bread as well?” I asked.

 

He shook his head as best as he was able. “I can’t get my mouth open that much,” he explained. “And Vernon broke a couple of teeth out. I couldn’t chew very well if I wanted to.”

 

“Oh,” I answered inanely. We sat in silence for long moments.

 

“Dudley, why are you here?” Harry asked pointedly.

 

“I…I just…I didn’t know he’d hurt you like that,” I finished miserably.

 

Harry chuckled. It sounded painful. “And you felt guilty,” he surmised. I nodded. “Well, don’t. He’d have found some other reason if it weren’t the tea. He always does,” Harry said wryly.

 

I felt my stomach churning again. “He…he does this…often?”

 

Harry snorted then flinched. “Yeah, Dudley. He does this all the time. Why do you think the chains are permanently installed on my bed? Or the locks on my door?”

 

“Or the scars on your chest?” I whispered, feeling the nausea in the back of my throat.

 

Harry sighed. “Or the scars on my chest,” he agreed. “Dudley,” he continued in a sad tone, “I appreciate that you came here tonight. Really. But it would be best now if you just left. Before Vernon catches you in here and punishes us both.”

 

I nodded. What else could I do? I was just stupid, fat Dudley. Failing school and manipulating my parents into buying more presents for me was the extent of my abilities. What could I possibly do to help Harry? And so I picked up the glass of water and made my way to the door. I turned once more before opening the door to see Harry watching me with an expression I’ve never seen before.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered as I shut off the light. And then the door closed behind me.

 

I stood, shaking like a leaf in the hallway. What the hell had just happened? What the hell was still happening?

 

I made my way to the bathroom and threw up the sandwiches and soup I’d had for dinner. Then I made my way to my room and cried myself to sleep for the first time in more than ten years.

_________________________________________________________________

 

The next day was no better. Harry didn’t make an appearance at the breakfast table. Father did, but it was belated. And it followed after hearing those dull thuds and weak cries from upstairs again. When father took his seat at the table, he was smiling brightly. “Good morning, my pets!” He kissed mum on the cheek and ruffled my hair again. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked, looking around the bare table.

 

I glanced at the stove, feeling myself turn green.

 

“Dudders is on a diet, Vernon,” mum answered briskly, heading to the refrigerator to pull out a bag of grapefruit. “We need to support him.”

 

“Oh. Yes, yes of course,” father’s expression fell into one of irritated distaste. But he accepted the grapefruit with a modicum of complaint. Mum plopped a half of a grapefruit on my plate and smiled weakly at me.

 

I dug into the fruit with more abandon than I’d shown for prime rib in the past, causing my father to eye me curiously. “Wot?” I asked, mouth full.

 

Father shrugged. “You’ve never been fond of grapefruit before.”

 

I froze.

 

“I…er, I’m hungry. I threw up last night,” I blurted out, and then wanted to bang my head against the table as my father frowned. “I think I caught a bug from Piers,” I finished lamely.

 

Father snorted. “More than likely you got it from that little bastard upstairs.”

 

“No!” I cried. Father frowned again. “I mean…I know it was Piers. He…he, er…called me yesterday and told me he was sick.”

 

“Hmm,” was father’s response. The rest of breakfast passed with only the rustle of the paper and the clink of our spoons. Eventually, father glanced at his watch and folded the paper up with a sigh. “I’m off to work, then,” he announced. Once again, he ruffled my hair and kissed mum on the cheek before heading out the door. I was beginning to want to wash my hair.

 

My mother and I traded looks as we heard the car start up in the driveway. We sat for nearly ten minutes, making sure he was really gone, before heading for the first aid kit. I gathered up another glass of water and a straw and this time plucked up a piece of toast left from father’s plate. We climbed the stairs together. I remembered what Harry had looked like last night. The blood. The chains. And I knew that mum couldn’t handle it. “I’ll go in alone, mum,” I offered, blocking her from the door.

 

“Wha…why?” she asked, confused.

 

“Someone needs to keep a lookout for father. Just in case he comes back,” I lied. Mum wrung her hands and looked worriedly towards the door that concealed Harry, but in the end…she nodded weakly and headed back downstairs.

 

I took a deep breath and opened the door. The smell was even worse than yesterday. I flicked on the light again and immediately wished I hadn’t. Harry didn’t move when the lights came on this time. He was on his stomach again, chains still holding him in the same place. But, the Smelting stick was no longer on the ground. It was…oh, God…it was shoved halfway up Harry’s bum.

 

As I ventured closer on trembling legs I could see that Harry had thrown up on the bed. It was dripping down the side of the blanket like he’d tried to get to the floor, but I could see that the chains just weren’t long enough to allow him to get there. So, he lay in a puddle of his own vomit.

 

“Harry?” I begged. Yes…after a moment of thought, that was exactly what I was doing. Begging. Begging for Harry to still be alive. “Harry, are you…?”

 

“’M awake, Dud,” came the feeble, if incorrect, reply. I inched closer to the bed, feeling the tears welling up against my will. He opened his eyes. Eyes that had bruised up since the night before. “Wha’ are you doing back ‘gain, Dud?” he mumbled.

 

“I…I brought you some more water.” I held the glass out in supplication.

 

Harry smiled. Sort of. The side of his mouth twitched a bit. “Though’ I tol’ you t’ stay ‘way,”

 

“I know,” I whispered. “I couldn’t, though.” Harry nodded briefly. I set the glass under his face again, trying not to make a face at the stench of puke. I eased the straw in between chapped lips and waited. Nothing. “Harry, you have to drink,” I said softly. Harry just moaned. “Please, Harry. Drink. Just a bit. Please?” He began sucking weakly, but the water ran out the side of his mouth just as fast.

 

I remembered that, in biology, our teacher taught us that puppies can be convinced to swallow if you stroke their throat. I shrugged, deciding it couldn’t hurt. Carefully, I eased my hand into the crevice between his chin and his shoulder and gently began stroking his throat. A moment later, the feel of Harry’s adams apple bobbing against my hand rewarded me. I don’t know that I’d ever felt that proud. And wasn’t that sad?

 

When he’d stopped sucking, I pulled the glass away and offered the toast. He shook his head again and collapsed back on the bed. “Harry? I brought the first aid kit.” I held it up, even though his eyes were closed again. “I’m going to—“

 

“No!” he came up off of the bed, eyes suddenly alive. “If you do anything, he’ll know you were in here!” He began coughing and dropped back to the bed. “I’ll be fine. Just…thank you for the water, Dud. But just go. Please.”

 

“But…”

 

“Please.”

 

And so I went.

 

That night, mum ordered out. I think she was even more sickened by the thought of using that stove to cook on again than I was to eat anything made on it. Father decided against the telly that evening, choosing instead to grace Harry with his presence the whole evening. Mum took me out on the front porch to look at the stars when the muffled cries became shrieks.

 

Father went straight to bed after a shower. I hid in my room. I couldn’t stand the thought of him ruffling my hair again, or touching any part of me. I had no idea how mum managed having to sleep in the same bed as the bastard.

 

The next morning was Saturday. Once upon a time, Saturday was a great day. A day to look forward to. Father took me out to places. Mum took me shopping. I went over to Piers’ house and got into trouble. Today, all it meant was that father would have more free time to spend with Harry.

 

Father wound up having to run an errand for his boss that morning. He asked if I’d like to come along. I wanted to scream at him, “No! You bastard! Why would I want to spend a single second with you?” But what I said was, “No, thank you, father. I’m still not feeling well.” He ruffled my hair again, told me to get better and left alone.

 

I told mum to keep watch and headed upstairs with my customary glass of water. I didn’t even bother with the food. The smell actually gagged me this time. I braced myself before turning on the light. If the smell was this bad, the visual could only be…

 

I threw up.

 

Sadly, father probably wouldn’t even notice. Not with as much vomit as was pooling around Harry’s bed. Not with as much blood as was slashed across the walls, puddled on the floor, seeping from the slashes on Harry’s back.

 

“Dud?” Harry called weakly.

 

I crawled to him. Fuck the puke. Fuck the blood. I crawled through the swamp of fluids that came from my cousin and added my own tears to the mix. “Harry?” I choked. “Oh, fucking God, what has he done to you?”

 

Closer, I could see the real damage. The odd angle that Harry’s limbs stuck out at. The caved in look to his torso. The bone poking through the flesh of his back, the only white in a sea of red blood and darker red gashes. The smelting stick was gone from Harry’s arse, but from the blood that was still seeping down the inside of his thighs, I’m sure that was only a cursory blessing.

 

“Oh, God…” I reached out a hand to touch him. He didn’t flinch from me until I touched his skin. Even then, I knew it was from the pain, not from my touch…but it nearly killed me none-the-less. I started to cry harder.

 

“Don’ cry, Dud,” he slurred.

 

“Please, Harry,” I sobbed. “Tell me what to do. I’m not smart like you. I don’t know what to do. Please tell me how to help you!”

 

“Shhh,” Harry hushed me. How strange that he was the calm one. “You have t’ tell someone at Hogwarts,” he tried to enunciate clearly through the broken teeth, the mutilated lips. “You have t’ convince them t’ come get me.”

 

I shivered. Partly in fear of having to contact anyone from that magic school, but partly because I realized that my cousin’s very life depended on me not fucking this up. “Okay, Harry,” I breathed. “I’ll do it. I’ll try. You have to tell me how.”

 

“I sen’ Hedwig t’ Ron’s,” he forced out. “You’ll have t’ call the Knigh’ Bus.”

 

“The what?” I was getting frantic. I had to call what? What the hell was that? How did I call for it? Did it have a phone number?

 

“You take m’ wand and hold it up ou’side. Th’ bus’ll come to you.” Harry’s eyes slipped closed and I nearly screamed.

 

“Wait! Wait, Harry! I don’t know where your wand is! I don’t know how to use it!”

 

Harry’s eyes popped back open. “Its under the fl’board. There in th’ corner. You’ll have t’ pry it up.”

 

I nodded and crawled back to the corner of the room. Pushing around on the boards, I found a loose one. I pried it up and there, nestled in a shimmery fabric was Harry’s wand. Trepiditiously, I grasped it. When nothing happened, no explosions, no pig tails, I shoved it in the back of my trousers and covered up Harry’s hiding hole. I’d just stood up when I heard mum shriek from the dining room.

 

“Shit,” I cursed. “Father’s back.”

 

“Go, Dud,” Harry demanded hoarsely. “Go before he—“

 

The door flew open. My father stood in the threshold like a demon straight from hell.

 

“What are you doing in here, boy?” he snarled, advancing on me.

 

I just stood, frozen like a deer in headlights. “I…I was…I…”

 

Father lifted a hand to me. I don’t know why I was so surprised. I mean, ten feet away, my cousin lay bleeding to death because of this man and yet I was surprised when he made to hit me.

 

“He came in to hurl more Dursley abuse at me,” Harry called out with a nasty sneer. “You’ve taught him well, Vernon. He’s almost as much of a bastard as you are.” Father turned on a dime, the hatred in his eyes focused on Harry now.

 

“You little freak,” father snarled. “You haven’t learned to shut up yet? I suppose you need another lesson.” As he advanced on Harry, he glanced down to pull his belt open and free it from its loops. When his eyes were off of Harry, Harry looked over at me and mouthed, “Go!”

 

It would haunt me, what I did. Almost as badly as that scream. I would spend the rest of my life wondering how Harry could stand to look at me after I ran from that room like the hounds of hell were on my heels. But run, I did. Straight downstairs and into my mum’s arms. Big, brave Dudley, huddled in mummy’s arms, sobbing his head off as he listened to the screams echoing down the stairs.

 

Oh, God. Even today, it makes me sick.

 

Father only came down that day for lunch and dinner. I refused both meals. I couldn’t go upstairs either. Bizarrely, I found my only comfort from wedging my fat arse in the closet that Harry had called home for ten years.

 

Eventually, the screams stopped and the shower started. I could hear the plumbing through the walls. When father finally drug his arse to bed, I ventured out of the closet and into the kitchen. I found my mum sobbing into her arms on the table. I hugged her, knowing that it didn’t help. It didn’t help me.

 

“It will be okay, mum,” I whispered. “I’m going to get him help. He told me how.”

 

“Dudley, you…” she tried, but I cut her off.

 

“No, mum. I’m doing this,” I said firmly. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m hoping before morning, but I don’t know anything about this bus Harry mentioned. I don’t know how long it takes to get to Hogwarts.”

 

“Oh, God, Dudley.” Mum held me tight for a brief moment, and then nodded. “Hurry, love.”

 

I kissed her forehead and headed outside. Once on the curb, I pulled the wand from the back of my trousers and held it aloft.

 

“Okay,” I called. “I need the Knight Bus.”

 

Nothing.

 

I waited, wand held high for nearly five minutes.

 

Still nothing.

 

I started to panic again. “Hey!” I called quietly, not wanting to have someone accost me on the street for talking to myself. “Knight Bus! Where are you? I need you. It’s for my cousin.”

 

Nothing.

 

I waited five more minutes and then the hysteria set in.

 

“Please!” I shouted, not caring any longer if the whole neighborhood woke up and came out to see me. “Please come, Knight Bus. Please! I’m begging you. Please come and help me. Come and help Harry!”

 

Nothing.

 

I dropped to my knees. This was it. Harry was going to die. Because I was a fucking failure. Because I couldn’t call a fucking bus. “Please!” I screamed shrilly. “Please help! Please come! Oh, God, please…” I buried my face in my free hand, refusing to drop the hand that held Harry’s wand.

 

A shot rang out and I dropped back on my arse, startled. A huge purple bus appeared out of nowhere, pulling up right to where I was laying on the sidewalk. The door hissed open and a grinning, shabbily dressed man stepped out.

 

“Hullo, there, sonny!” he looked down at me. “Well, isn’t this interesting? Muggle, are we? How’d you get that wand? Better yet, how’d you get it to work?”

 

“I…I don’t know how it works. I…I got it from my cousin. He’s hurt. He needs help from someone at Hogwarts. Please,” I begged, gathering my courage up again. “Please, I have to get help for him from the magic school!”

 

“Well,” the driver cleared his throat and spat to the side. “Most everyone from the school is gone on one business or another, but I do know where some of the professors have their homes. I s’pose I could take you there,” he looked thoughtful.

 

“Oh, yes!” I cried out. “Please! Take me to one of them. Please, hurry. I don’t know how much longer Harry can hold on.”

 

The driver sighed and then jerked a thumb to the bus. “Go on, then. Get aboard.”

 

I practically tripped over my own feet in my hurry to get on the bus. “Thank you, thank you,” I couldn’t stop saying. I dropped onto one of the beds, trying not to stare at the rag taggle group of people staring at me. The bus started up and, with a stomach turning jerk, we began rocketing our way off down the road.

 

It was a matter of minutes when the bus came to a stop and the driver came back to see me. “Here we are, sonny,” he nodded out the window. “Here’s one of the professor’s homes. Try there.”

 

“Thank you,” I babbled again, stumbling off of the bus. It disappeared from behind me with the same shot sound that it had made as an entrance and I was standing alone on what looked like a moor with a mansion in the middle of it. Shaking my head to spur my brain into action again, I headed off to the front door. I pounded on the door, calling for someone, for nearly a minute before the door creaked open.

 

I looked in, not seeing anyone, and frowned. “Hello?” I called.

 

“Hello, sir. May Nissy help sir?” The voice came from my feet and I glanced down.

 

“What the…?” A strange small creature stood clasping it’s hands, cocking its head to look up at me.

 

“May Nissy help sir?” it repeated.

 

Oh, Christ. I shook off the need to have a breakdown right here and now and nodded at the small thing. “I need to speak to someone who works at Hogwarts magic school,” I stated clearly. “My cousin is hurt. The Knight Bus driver dropped me off here. Can you take me to someone who can help me?”

 

The small creature nodded beckoned me inside. “Wait here, sir,” it said politely, heading off through a door.

 

A moment later, the most terrifying man I’d ever seen burst through the door. He was tall, dressed entirely in black robes. His hair was as dark as his robes, as were his eyes. Eyes that were currently glaring at me. I noticed movement behind him and saw a boy about my age, blonde and dressed in green robes, following him.

 

“What are you doing in my home, muggle?” the dark man demanded.

 

I gathered the last bit of courage I had for that night and took a deep breath. “Please, sir,” I began, relatively pleased that my voice wasn’t shaking. “Please, my cousin said he needed someone from Hogwarts to help him. He’s hurt. He may be dying.”

 

The dark man sneered. “It’s not my business what students get up to on the holidays and I’m not a mediwitch.”

 

I was slightly confused. Mediwitch? “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what that is, but he’s hurt really badly. He gave me his wand to call for the Knight Bus.” I held Harry’s wand out to prove it.

 

The blonde boy’s eyes widened in shock and the dark man snatched the wand right out of my hand. “What? You’re a muggle! What idiotic wizard would give his wand to a muggle?” The dark man stared at the wand he’d taken from me, and his frown increased. He turned the frown on me and I felt my breath hitch. “What is your name, boy?”

 

“Dudley Dursley, sir,” I squeaked. “My cousin is Harry Potter.”

 

The blonde snorted and rolled his eyes. “Figures.”

 

The dark man sighed. “Fine. I’ll come. But I guarantee that your cousin will not be hearing the last of this anytime soon.”

 

I shuddered, thinking he might already be dead with all the time I’d wasted. “I hope not, sir,” I whispered absently.

 

The two wizards exchanged frowns and then pulled out wands of their own. “Draco,” the dark man said, “Do you know where Potter lives?”

 

“Yes, Sev,” Draco nodded. “My father showed me years ago.”

 

“Good,” Sev replied. “Apparate there. I’ll follow shortly with Mr. Dursley.”

 

With a crack, Draco disappeared. My jaw dropped in shock. Sev snatched a hold of my arm. “Wrap your arms around me, Mr. Dursley,” he snapped. “And for the love of whatever muggles love, don’t let go.” Nervously, I locked my arms around him and then we disappeared from the wizard house in a crack ourselves.

 

As soon as I opened my eyes again, I saw that I was on Privet Drive. And then my stomach caught up with me. I bent over and threw up. Sev looked at me in irritated disgust, waiting for me to stop puking. Draco just snickered. When my stomach stopped heaving, I wiped my mouth and led the way to the front door. Just inside, mum met us. She hugged me hard and then stepped back.

 

“I found them, mum,” I whispered. “It’ll be okay now.”

 

Mum nodded. “Thank you for coming,” she said with a wavering smile. “I’m Petunia Dursley.”

 

Sev nodded once. “Severus Snape,” he announced. “This is Draco Malfoy,” he added, jerking his head back at the blonde. “Where is Potter?”

 

Mum started to cry and could only point upstairs. “I’ll take you,” I said. “Mum, you just wait here.” She nodded and sank down onto the couch. I led the two wizards up the stairs, making sure to tread quietly for fear of waking my father.

 

I stopped in front of Harry’s door and wanted to cry myself. Father had bolted it shut with padlocks and chains. “No!” I whispered vehemently. This couldn’t be happening. I got help. I did! They were standing right here. And we were locked away from Harry because of me! “No,” I whimpered again, grasping the lock helplessly.

 

“Move aside, boy,” Snape sighed. He didn’t wait for me to move, just shoved me out of his way. “Alohamora!” he demanded, and the locks just opened. Like magic, I wanted to giggle. But then, reality hit me again. I glanced up at the two wizards.

 

“It’s bad,” I warned.

 

Snape rolled his eyes and waved me onward. I carefully shoved the door open. Snape and Malfoy made gagging noises and covered their noses and mouths with their robe sleeves. I admit, I wanted to cover my nose as well, but I refused. This was my fault. I was damned if I was going to go in like a sissy boy, holding my nose against a smell after the hell Harry had been through.

 

I flicked on the light only to find that the bulb was either burned or had been taken out. “Damn it,” I cursed. “No light.” I edged into the room, heading for where I knew the bed to be, and knelt. When my knees began to get soaked, I realized Harry had probably thrown up again. At least, I hoped it was vomit and not a puddle of blood from his wounds.

 

“Harry?” I called softly, feeling for Harry’s head. “Harry, wake up. I brought help. Harry? Please, Harry!” Fear began to rise. “Harry? Please don’t be dead. Don’t let me be too late!”

 

“’M okay, Dud,” Harry rasped out. “’M not dead. Tha’s jus’ wishful thinkin’,” he chuckled and then began coughing. The coughing led to gagging and then retching. I patted his head as he heaved, wanting to cry again. “So, the Knight Bus thing actually worked, eh? Didn’t think it would.”

 

I was suddenly furious. “Why did you tell me to try it if you didn’t think it would work?” I demanded.

 

“I w’s trying to keep you occup’d,” Harry answered with a slight gurgle. “So you’d stop comin’ here and puttin’ yourse’f in danger.”

 

“Lumos,” Snape called and a beam of light shot out of his wand. “Same old martyr complex, Mr. Potter?” he sneered, stepping forward. Then he got his first look at Harry Potter. He stared in horror as Harry rolled his eyes.

 

“Fuckin’ Christ, Dud,” Harry sighed. “Di’ you have to bring one of the pe’ple who hates me more than Vernon does?”

 

“Lumos,” Draco called and stepped forward, his own expression of horror.

 

Harry began wheezing. I recognized it as a laugh after a moment. “Oh, much bett’r,” he laughed. “Two people who hate me more’n Vernon.” He laughed until he began coughing again. That led to the gagging and retching. This time, I could see that he was throwing up blood.

 

Snape moved forward and said that word again, the one that opened the locks on the door, and the chains holding Harry to the bed just fell apart. As soon as his limbs were free, Harry tried to curl into a ball. I don’t know if it was because the body’s natural response is to curl around an injury or because he was embarrassed at being naked. He found that it didn’t matter, though, as every broken bone in his body protested.

 

He moaned and straightened out again. Then he moaned from that. Snape pursed his lips. “We are leaving. There is no one qualified to help the boy at Hogwarts at the moment. Poppy is at a conference in France. I will be taking Potter to Snape Manor.” I nodded, not really knowing what he was talking about. Who was Poppy? What was Snape Manor? But I suppose it didn’t really matter, as long as someone was helping. As long as I wasn’t left to make it better on my own.

 

And so I surrendered to this Snape person and his friend in the hope that they could keep Harry alive and safe where I seemed to have only gotten him more hurt.

 

“Wait,” Harry rasped as Snape bent down to touch him. “You have t’ bring Du’ley an’ Aun’ Petun’a.” Snape eyed me distastefully. “Please,” Harry begged. “Vern’n will kill ‘em if he fin’s me missing.” Snape curled his lip and rolled his eyes.

 

“Very well, Mr. Potter. If it will force you into silence until I can get you drugged unconscious, I will take them as well.”

 

“Than’ you, Pr’f’ssr,” Harry slurred.

 

Snape turned his gaze on his companion. “Draco. Go make preparations and gather some potions. I’m sure you can find the correct ones.” Draco nodded and lifted his wand. With that gunshot sound, he disappeared. Snape looked back at me. “I can’t risk waiting any longer for you or your mother to pack your belongings. I’ll provide whatever basics you need and if you require it, will bring you back at a later date to retrieve any personal effects.”

 

I nodded, his voice strangely calming to me, though I stood in a pool of blood. “Go. Get your mother. Bring her here.” I nodded again and raced down to the living room.

 

“Mum!” I hissed. She appeared next to me, startling me. “They’re taking Harry. He asked if they would take us too. They agreed, but we have to go now.”

 

Mum’s eyes began to glaze over. “Oh, but Dudders…I can’t. I have to stay here.”

 

I gritted my teeth and did the most difficult thing I’d ever had to do. I manhandled my mother up the stairs and into Harry’s bedroom. I held her by her shoulders and forced her to look at Harry’s dripping, abused body lying in his professor’s hands. “Look at him, mum!” I snapped. “Take a good look at him because when father finds out he’s gone tomorrow, that’s what we are both going to look like.”

 

She sputtered a bit but made no more protests as Snape instructed us to grasp hold of his arms and not let go. He raised his wand slightly, hampered by Harry’s weight, and once again that gunshot noise echoed through the room.

 

As we landed, I dropped and began hurling again. Mum, however, just stood looking confused. Snape wavered on his feet and I stared in helpless horror as he began to drop to his knees still holding Harry. Then there was a streak of blonde and green and Draco was there, catching Harry in his arms as Snape fell to the ground, gasping for air and shaking.

 

Draco shook his head wryly. “I kind of figured you’d apparate all four of you at the same time, you stubborn old man.” Snape just sneered at him, seemingly unable to speak, and Draco rolled his eyes. “Come on. I have the bed made up for him. Fuck, Potter. Could you weigh any less?”

 

He continued to rattle off at Harry’s unconscious body the whole way up the stairs. Snape shook off whatever was affecting him and followed, albeit a bit slower. They sent mum and me out of the room with the small creature that opened the door for me on my first trip. ‘Nissy’, as she continually called herself in third person, showed us to hot baths and clean clothes. Granted, they were robes like the other wizards were wearing, but they were at least free of vomit and blood.

 

After our baths, Nissy took us into a bloody huge room and seated us at a table large enough to hold 20 people. She snapped her fingers and food appeared on the table. Mum squeaked a bit and her hand shook as she took the first bite, but other than that, she handled it pretty well. I’d like to say I handled it well also. However, I was just too messed up from the last few days to be startled by much of anything.

 

I saw mum to the room Nissy assigned her and then asked to be taken back to the room that housed my cousin. The little creature clearly did not want to, but I begged. It had tears in its huge eyes by the time I was done. I honestly don’t remember what I said. But, she left me at the door and I went in.

 

“Severus, I told you to take a bath and go to bed,” drawled Draco before turning to the door. “Oh, it’s you.” He turned back to the bed where Harry lay so quietly. “Well, come in or get out. Don’t just linger in the doorway. You’re ruining the warming charms.” I stepped in hurriedly, closing the door behind me.

 

“How is he?” I asked softly.

 

“He’s responding well,” was the response.

 

“Will he be okay?”

 

Draco glared. “Of course he’ll be okay. Severus Snape just spent four hours draining himself over the prat.”

 

Prat? I was suddenly unbelievably angry. “I don’t know what the hell that means,” I snapped. “I don’t know who Severus Snape is, other than a teacher at your school. What makes him so qualified to fix Harry? How can I be sure that whatever he did will stay done? How can I be sure that Harry will even wake up again?” I could hear the hysteria rising in my voice. Apparently, so could Draco as he held up his hands non-threateningly.

 

“Calm down, Dursley,” he said. “Severus Snape is the greatest potions master in Europe, possibly in the whole world. He’s also rather adept at healing. He helps the school nurse out all the time on the harder cases.

 

The anger just evaporated. “Harry isn’t a case,” I whispered.

 

“No,” Draco sneered. “He’s The Boy Who Lived. For that matter alone, Severus would give his life to see him healed. Everyone would. It’s the expected rule in the wizarding world.” He looked rather disgusted. “Doesn’t matter who else dies, just as long as The Boy Who Lived is safe as houses.”

 

“I…I don’t know what that means either,” I admitted quietly.

 

Draco sighed at me. “Look, Dursley. There’s a really evil wizard in this world. He wants to take it over and kill a lot of people. Harry defeated him when he was 15 months old.”

 

That struck a chord. “That’s when Harry came to live with us,” I offered. Draco looked at me as thought I were particularly stupid.

 

“Yes,” he said condescendingly. “That’s because at the occasion of Potter’s defeat of the Dark Lord, his parents were killed defending him. Potter survived a horrible curse that was meant to kill him. Instead, it gave him that scar on his forehead, rebounded and killed the Dark Lord.”

 

“Oh,” I said, suddenly getting the reference. “The Boy Who Lived.”

 

“Yes, rather,” Draco sneered. “The Dark Lord wasn’t completely defeated, just rendered non-corporeal and helpless for a while. He was driven back. Now he’s here again and causing trouble and, apparently, Potter is the only one who can defeat him. That’s why the world caters to his every whim.”

 

“I…I just can’t see Harry as a hero,” I said, knowing I sounded rather bewildered. “I mean…he’s just the freaky cousin who lives under the stairs. He’s the one who mows the lawn and cooks for us.”

 

Draco looked a bit confused himself. “He isn’t pampered and spoiled?”

 

The anger was back. “Look at him, you git!” I yelled. “Does he look pampered and spoiled?”

 

Draco now looked abashed. “No, I suppose not. I just always had a picture of Harry Potter living in luxury.”

 

I sat on the very edge of Harry’s bed. “I don’t even think he knew his name til he started school,” I said softly. “Father just called him freak and mum called him boy.”

 

Draco glanced from Harry to me, a shrewd look on his face. “If he’s always had such a hard life, why are you just now getting him help?”

 

Tears threatened again. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I know that sounds stupid, and in hindsight, I suppose it is. But I was never really aware of what went on in the house as long as I got whatever I wanted to play with and whatever I wanted to eat. Father never punished him where I could see. He always said Harry deserved it anyway. That Harry had back talked or broken something on purpose. I thought Harry was just jealous cause he wasn’t mum and father’s real son.”

 

I swallowed. “When I watched him…burn Harry, that was the first time I’d ever really seen my father violent towards him. And even then, I thought it would be over in a few hours. But it just got worse. And worse.” I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears. “I don’t understand why father did it. Harry didn’t do anything to provoke him. He didn’t knock the tea over. He didn’t back talk. He never back talks. Fuck, he never talks. I just don’t understand.”

 

I opened my eyes and looked hopefully at Draco. He pressed his lips together and sat on the other side of Harry’s bed. “Look, Dursley. You seem to have been pretty sheltered. Let me let you in on a few things about human nature. There are people out there who hate. It’s an unreasonable hatred. No basis in reality. No reasons needed. They just hate. Sometimes, those people act on their hate. They hurt whatever it is they’ve focused their anger on that day. It doesn’t even have to be what made them angry in the first place. They just hurt whatever is nearby and easy to abuse. And they keep hurting it until the anger goes away or until whatever they’re hurting is destroyed.”

 

He shrugged. “Your father sounds like that kind of person. I should know. My father is that kind of person as well,” he says wryly.

 

“What do I do to stop him?” I asked curiously.

 

Draco laughed. “You can’t stop him. I can’t stop my father either. The best you can hope for is to find someplace to hide and hope like hell that whatever he’s taking his anger out on doesn’t die and cause him to turn on you.”

 

I looked down at Harry, lying pale and still. “Father was going to hit me,” I breathed. “Harry provoked him, though. Made him hurt Harry again. Gave me a chance to run. No one has ever protected me before. I mean, mum, of course. But generally, people come to me for protection. Cause I’m so big. And cause I box. But Harry…small, skinny, bleeding and hurt Harry protected me. While he was chained to the bed.” Tears began to fall from my eyes.

 

Draco sighed, looking down at Harry as well. “You know, Dursley. I’m going to be pretty damn mad if you make me like Potter before you’re gone.”

 

I wiped away tears and looked at Draco. “Why do you hate him? Why does Mr. Snape hate him?”

 

“Professor Snape,” Draco said absently, watching Harry breathe. “I don’t really know why Severus hates him. I never asked. I don’t suggest you ask either. He’d never hit you, but he can make you feel like the stupidest thing that ever was wiped off of someone’s shoe. As for me? Dunno. He’s a Gryffindor, I’m a Slytherin. He’s the golden boy of the wizarding world and I’m the son of a death eater. Everyone loves him. Everyone fears me. Mostly, I think, it’s cause I offered him friendship when we first met and he turned me down in favor of a member of a family that my family hates.”

 

I frowned.

 

“What?” Draco sighed again.

 

“I don’t really know what some of those things are, but from what I see, you hate him for differences that neither one of you can help.” Draco looked irritated. “Harry told me that he was a Gryffindor cause some hat told him he was.”

 

“The sorting hat, yes,” Draco replied warily.

 

“Well, he didn’t choose it. And I bet you didn’t either. And he can’t help who he is. Anymore than you can help who your father is. I don’t know why everyone loves him and everyone hates you, but I’d say its cause you’re a rather nasty git from what I’ve seen,” I told him honestly. After all, it took one to see one.

 

Draco bristled but kept his mouth shut for the moment.

 

“Which doesn’t surprise me that he turned down your friendship,” I continued. “He’s kind of an underdog supporter, I’ve noticed in school. He makes friends with crying little girls and chases people away from hurt animals and such. For God’s sake, he always wants us to choose the most scraggly Christmas tree because he says no one else will want it. I’m betting that your family’s enemy is some sort of underdog and you looked like you were picking on him.”

 

Draco deflated. Maybe what I was saying had clicked for him. “Harry hates having people hate him. I bet if you asked to be friends again, he’d tell you yes,” I offered only because he looked so down. But then he bristled again.

 

“I don’t need to be friends with that mudblood lover! I am Draco Malfoy! I do not need advice from a bloody muggle on anything!” he snapped. “I’m going to bed now. Severus will be in to check on Potter in a few hours. You should get some sleep as well. Goodnight.”

 

And with that, he stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him…leaving me alone with Harry. I settled down next to him, leaning against the wall and trying to get comfortable. I’d left him alone for the last bloody time.

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