Saving Myself || A Drarry Story

XLII: Hurtful Words

"Hello, Father, " Harry mumbled, his chest filling with shame and fear.

"Son, " James Potter said, his voice cold and his hands clenched into fists.  "Care to explain anything?"

Harry shook his head and kept his hands limp at his side. His lungs were burning with their need for oxygen and he was frozen in place. "No, no sir."

James was livid, a vein in his forehead bulging along with one in his neck. Harry flinched when he put his hand up, seemingly satisfied by his son's action. "Don't lie to me, Harry James Potter!"

Harry remembered to breathe, his lungs grateful. "I---" he started before he was stopped.

James, always the confrontational type, reared his hand back, slapping his son across his face, hearing him grunt as he tried to hold his small body up. "Severus told me everything. So you had better---"

"He's lying!" Harry cried out desperately, a small part of him wanting his father to believe him and the other part knowing that he wouldn't. "He's---"

James hit his son again, his anger getting the better of him, but Harry didn't stumble. No, he stood still, taking the hit full force. "Don't you dare lie to me, boy!"

Harry felt his lip quiver, but he bit down on it hard and watched silently as James took out his wand, a dread setting in his chest.

"If you are so damn sure that Severus is lying, " James said quietly, but his voice shook Harry to the core, "then you won't have a problem with me checking that twisted little mind of yours."

Harry took a deep breath as he heard his father say, "Legilemens!"

Harry alone in the second-floor girl's bathroom. A grinning blonde boy with grey eyes. His heart hammering in his chest as Draco pulled him close---

No.

His knees hit the floor as his father gave him a blow to his face, unable to put his hands up quick enough. There was a blinding pain in his eye as his father pulled his hand back, repeating the incantation as thunder rolled.

Harry on his knees in front of Draco, a hand in his midnight hair. That never happened, Harry thought to himself. Draco's teeth on his neck. Draco taking his shirt off and looking at himself in the mirror, comparing his body to what Harry drew---

Stop.

Another blow to his face, this one a bit harder, more precise, hitting his jaw and knocking his small body to the floor, landing in a heap, his forearms the only thing holding him up. He heard his glasses hit the wall, surely shattering. "Do that again, " his father hissed, "and it'll be much, much worse."

Harry felt himself nod, though he wanted to shout Get out of here! You ruin everything! James repeated the incantation, his voice malicious.

Running through the streets of Paris. Harry sobbing into Draco's chest. A steady beat. Thrusting Draco's Head Boy badge into his hands. Pulling Draco close and kissing him.

Please, his mind begged as his father stopped only to kick at Harry's ribs and telling him how much of a pussy he was being as tears flowed freely and silently down his cheeks.

"Fucking---pussy---disgusting little---faggot!" he shouted, kicking Harry in between words, trying to get his head, but Harry's arms covered it. "A disgrace---to the---Potter name!"

Knowing every word was true, Harry's body shook and convulsed with silent sobs, wanting this to end so badly that he prayed. He prayed to anything to get his father to leave and to never come back, to have him dead, to kill him.

But nothing came. Only the blows from either his father's shoe or his hand. James grabbed him by his hair, hissing, "Get the hell up."

Harry did so shakily, trying to wipe his tears away privately. James turned to leave through the window, making Harry almost laugh from relief until his father whipped around, his fist connecting with Harry's jaw, knocking him into his desk with an audible whimper.

"Fucking faggot, " his father hissed again before Harry lost consciousness, the storm continuing to rage on as Harry lie still, unmoving on the floor.

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Groaning, Harry opened his eyes, noticing how one was swollen shut and wincing as he sat up. He looked up at his clock, barely blinking when he saw that it was nearly noon. The sun was shining through his window and he found his wand, closing it with a show flick.

He tried standing, but he soon gave up, a fresh sob escaping his throat. It hurt so bad that he saw spots in his vision. So, instead, he crawled to where he felt that his glasses were, his body aching.

Harry crawled to his bathroom, hoisting himself up onto the toilet sink, looking at himself for a long time in the mirror, examining himself. His right eye was swollen and he had a bruise on one cheek and another on his opposite jaw. He couldn't imagine what the rest of his body looked like.

Slowly, he crawled and turned on the faucet, letting the water steam before leaning against the cupboard and taking his clothes off, lowering himself into the tub and letting the water prickle his skin and turn it red with blood rush. As he let the water droplets roll over his body, down his sore back and his bruised face, he remembered the true, but hurtful words his father had used last night, hardly thinking of anything else as Draco worried in his classes and as classes ate in the Great Hall during supper, ignoring his friends casual sounding banter.

Harry finally turned off the water, dressing in comfortable and easy to put on clothes; sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking at the multiple bruises on his ribcage, back, and stomach. As swiftly as possible, he got on his hands and knees, searching the cupboard with intense concentration, sighing when he pulled a bottle out from under the sink.

He took the lid off, hesitating before putting it to his lips, but he wanted all of the pain gone. He looked down at his left arm and he felt his throat close. How could his father do this to his son? His own son?

"Stupid, " he murmured to himself, putting the bottle to his lips and groaning at the sensation in his throat and feeling the burning travel down to his stomach, reminding him that he hadn't eaten all day. He drank quickly, wanting the pain to be gone gone gone. He choked and coughed, making his anguish tenfold by the simple thing.

After he downed the first bottle, he searched for a second, and then a third, and then a fourth. He drank them all, relishing the release from his pain, sighing because it felt so good. Harry stood, feeling good as he went over to his clock, seeing that it was nearly eleven o'clock in the afternoon, his heart doing a happy jump as he put on a sweatshirt, drinking about half of another bottle that he found.

"Harry?" a familiar voice said as he set the bottle down. Harry turned, seeing Draco. He gave him a large smile as Draco asked, his mouth agape, "What happened to you?"

And Harry laughed.

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