Repeated Contact Damage – Chapter One
Another attempted reboot, don't have to have read the original, the story is going to be very similar, just a bit tweaked with some fresh ideas :) Basic premise is that Harry suffered an injury at some point in the years before starting Hogwarts, one that never quite healed properly, and for reasons that will be explained throughout the story, doesn't get it fixed when he does finally arrive at the school.
Also featuring an established friendship with Draco, the origins of which will also come to light fairly quickly, this is a creature-fic, and it deals with mental health issues as well.
Squick warning 1. Genderqueer character ahead!
While this is not my first genderqueer character, this is the first that's going to be published, unless I can finish the next chapter of Social Riot Machines before this one is done. Obviously in SRM it's Erik that is genderqueer, but let's not spoil the surprise of who it is in this one. There's only really a few possible suspects right?
My fics tend to include the Dursleys being just about bearable, in addition to Severus, usually having Severus in a long term relationship, because fucking hell, he quite obviously needs a good shag and more. Not sure if this one is going to be the same in regards to Sev, I did have discussions with one of my friends about it, and I think we named his partner, but I can't remember what we settled on
Squick warning 2. Kink
It's a Drarry, what are you expecting?
I know I've already rambled on quite a lot by this point, and I'd say 90% of anyone that's read this has probably skipped to where the formatting ends, I know I do, but I'd like to say that for me, writing Drarry isn't hard per se, but the way I look at is, if Draco bottoms, you've got the angular elfin whore thing going on, whereas if it's Harry you tend to find Draco portrayed as a voracious sexual predator almost, and Harry having magical sex powers of doom despite it being his first(?) sexual encounter. Someone's gotta do it though. I will be attempting to stay away from the norm as much as possible, as I want the story to be original, however from past experiences I realise that thinking too far out of the box tends to turn readers off.
I'm also rather mean to him, I now realise because I've decided on the nature of his accident (this part of the A/N being written as I've hit about ,1,500 words)
Thank you to anyone that read my lengthy note :)
The sweat on his forehead and the rest of his body chilled Harry to the very bone as he awkwardly kicked the covers off of himself. Ultimately, the undeniable feeling of frost in the air meant that he was beginning to suffer chronic soreness and stiffness in his right leg, not that discomfort was atypical, however in the winter months it became much more pronounced. If it wasn't the pain in his leg that kept him awake, it was the dreams, visions and nightmares of Voldemort's dastardly goings-on, and after seeing that for hours at a time, Harry often felt like the night was the worst part of the day, it was supposed to be a chance for him to rest and recuperate, but no, the dull ache in his leg and the screams of Voldemort's victims was starting to catch up on him. He needed to sleep, needed it so desperately that he was willing to turn to even Snape for help.
Often he sought Madam Pomfrey, but it was the third time that week, and he was pretty sure the matron wouldn't give him any more Dreamless Sleep potion, since it was addictive. On the other hand, Snape might have something less addictive, or some kind of permanent solution to near constant pain and tiredness.
Wearily, he shifted his legs out of bed, and slipped his feet into his Martens, not caring particularly if they were the black pair or not. As it happened, it was the bright red pair, but given the level of exhaustion and sheer annoyance he was feeling at that particular moment, he couldn't care less if he was wearing bright candy apple red boots with his pyjamas.
He hobbled to his crutches, and once he had steadied himself and manoeuvred out of hid bedroom and private common room, sped off, not even checking the Marauder's Map or donning his invisibility cloak, which was a royal pain in the arse to use on crutches anyway. If he was caught, he intended to tell the truth or lie vigorously as to what he was doing, it depended entirely on who caught him. Most of the teachers were quite sympathetic toward him, it was probably largely due to the fact that he refused any and all attempts to heal his leg, even Filch occasionally turned a blind eye when he hobbled past after hours -only very occasionally however. There was one teacher that would never, ever in all of time and space be anything other than a hideous bitch, and that was of course Dolores Umbridge.
He tottered precariously several times on the many flights of stairs on his way to the dungeons, but he barely slowed, and all he had to do was glare at the portrait of Salazar Slytherin for the man to slide out of his frame and rouse the no doubt grumpy Potion's Master.
"I can't help it if there's an extremely pissed off Gryffindor on your doorstep, can I?" Slytherin exclaimed warily as the door opened.
Snape glared at the painting for a few moments, choosing to deal with the easier of his two issues first.
"One look from an angry Gryffindor and you scarper." He stated, a malicious and infuriated note entering his voice. "What kind of door guardian are you?"
Before an answer was given, Snape was gesturing at Harry to move, for which he was sincerely grateful since he felt like he could collapse at any given moment.
He propped his crutches on the sofa and then all but threw himself onto aforementioned sofa. Snape returned -not that Harry had noticed his absense, he was too busy scowling at the coffee table- with two steaming mugs several minutes later, and sighed. Harry had no idea why he was sighing, until he spoke that was.
"Link, of all the things to put on before leaving the bedroom, you pick your fucking hat? You know, not a pair of boxers at the very least. Did it not occur to you, that you know, maybe I was dealing with a student, and while there are a few students -most of them teenage girls- that would absolutely relish the chance to oggle a naked man, most would not."
Well, it would be an injustice not to have a quick look, in Harry's opinion. He looked over his shoulder, and was most definitely not disappointed in the slightest. A tall, slim, blonde and very much naked man was indeed standing in the living room, grinning. The man winked at them both, flicked what Harry assumed was a good-natured V in the direction of Snape and retreated.
"I'd say sorry, but you're one of the few that probably have no problems with the display."
"Cheered me up a bit actually. Listen, I can't fucking deal with it at the moment, the pain is so bad, I swear that fucking Inquisitorial Squad keep bumping into me on purpose, because they always seem to hit my left side so I fall on my right knee. Its not getting a chance for the swelling to go down, and on top of that I can't sleep at all, but I've already had Dreamless Sleep twice this week."
He left the silent plea hanging in the air as Snape considered his words.
"You're probably right, but there's only so many times we can warn students to be careful before Umbridge makes a fuss, you remember the first week don't you? Hold on, I'll go let Link know I'll be gone for a bit, and then I'd like to try something."
Snape entered the room that Link had disappeared into, and Harry could hear them conversing, but couldn't make out the words. Eventually he came back, and Harry could see he was carrying a vial filled with a viscous potion.
"So, we established you can't use ibuprofen gel, so I'd thought we could try a potion that works in a similar way?"
Harry nodded, too tired to speak and once the Professor was suitably positioned, he kicked off his boots and rearranged himself, with his right leg extended over Snape's thighs.
"I'm capable of doing it myself you know," he observed dryly as Snape poured a small amount of the potion onto Harry's bare knee.
The look he received quite clearly said that Snape believed otherwise. In many respects it was absolutely mesmerising, watching the man's fingers gently working the potion into Harry's skin, but it also made him reflect on the reason it was an issue in the first place. He often tried to put it behind him, and for the most part he was successful, however e found that sometimes if he wasn't careful he experienced an intense and bitter resentfulness for the person that had injured him in the first place.
The agony that ripped through his entire body couldn't be described, not by anyone, not even the most articulate person in the world and most certainly not by Harry. He'd done everything right he swore! He pushed the button, waited for the man to turn green and the beeping to start, and when it did he crossed the road happily, on his way to the park to play. The older boy on the bike thought he could dodge round Harry, but he'd been wrong.
The collision was bone-shattering and left Harry screaming. His glasses were gone and he couldn't see properly, even with them he doubted he'd be any better off. Everything hurt, his arms, legs, head, everything! The blood smeared on the tarmac before him frightened him to no end, convinced him he was going to die.
It didn't take long for someone to dash to the nearest house and call an ambulance, it took a mere half an hour for him to be drugged into oblivion in Accident and Emergency, carted off to be x-rayed and later rushed into surgery.
Not that he remembered a great deal of the proceedings up until he woke up after the third operation, still high on morphine. Once he was allowed to stagger to the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and was thoroughly shocked, so much so that he vomited. Though, the nurses reckon it might've been the drugs or something else, but he was pretty sure he'd been so freaked out by all the stitches, bandages and bruises that he forcibly rejected the contents of his stomach.
Even as he began to heal, he encountered setback after setback, while no one in his home bore him any kind of ill will, he found that Dudley often knocked him over, or caught a crutch on the way past, it wasn't his fault, he tried to be careful, but careful, a chubby nine year old and narrow hallways didn't always coexist.
School became depressing as well, he wasn't allowed to do games anymore, and he was often told that he couldn't even go outside for play-time, which upset him more, in some respects than being in and out of hospital all the time. Infection and growth spurts affected the healing, until the doctors were certain it wouldn't ever be right again. Everything else was fine, apart from a few scars, but his leg wasn't the same, even after the rest of it got better, he wasn't allowed to do PE. Sometimes he couldn't help but cry at his predicament, he was a sporty kid, loved running around in games, loved playing tap with his friends, loved rounders and football, and everything about being outside. Eventually some of his friends asked if they could stay inside with him at break, but they were told no, in case it got too rowdy.
Unsurprisingly, Harry's mood spiralled downwards so rapidly that it was difficult for him to want to do well, as he had before. The other's parents already looked at him weirdly and pulled their kids away because of the other thing that was supposedly wrong with him, but he couldn't help the way he was. No one in school actually cared, but their parents did, and that hurt. He dreaded secondary school, being forced to go to a new school with lots of new people made him want to cry, he was sure they'd think he was weird and different and they wouldn't play with him, or talk to him or include him.
When he'd got his letter from Hogwarts he'd been so surprised that he'd nearly fallen off his chair, and he wanted to sob again, because no doubt that would be something else he wouldn't be allowed to do because of his injury. But he was! Aunt Petunia said the school matron could probably deal with anything that happened in the year, and told him that it was his choice whether he asked the matron to heal his leg completely.
By the time he got to the school, and had been pulled aside -having already been laughed at- and asked if he wanted to see the matron, he said no. Sure it was a pain, but if he got it fixed he'd be weak right? He wanted to be strong and overcome it on his own. They'd all stared as he'd limped his way up to the stool, arms and legs wobbling like nobody's business, but they cheered for him when he was Sorted into Gryffindor and for the first time in ages he felt proud of himself. One of the older students helped him to sit on the bench, and though he knew they were surprised, their saviour or whatever he was had what was likely a lifelong affliction, but they greeted him warmly whilst no doubt trying to swallow their disappointment.
Harry awoke with a start, he had no recollection of falling asleep, and yet he most definitely had done, since Snape was quietly talking to Link, who was wearing slightly more clothing than the last time Harry had seen him. He was almost saddened.
"Can you make it back?" Snape asked, not giving any indication that he was in any form annoyed about being slept on.
"Yeah, I'll be fine, I'm sure your manfriend is itching to get his hands on you again," he replied with a laugh.
"Absolutely," Link muttered salaciously.
"Believe it or not, but Link will be able to manage for another ten minutes while I make sure you get back to your room safely," Snape clearly wasn't too pleased with the jibe at his sex life.
Once more, Link nodded and left, leaving Snape to escort Harry back upstairs.
When Harry woke the next morning, he was exceptionally glad he was in his own bed instead of on Snape's sofa, because he would've been highly embarrassed bythe state he was in that was for sure, and it would've been severely aggravated by the arrival of a very naked and gorgeous Link. Well, Harry hoped he would've been naked.
It felt a little wrong to him as he pulled his boxers out the drawer that morning, and it only took a few moments of consideration to work out why. Quickly, he pulled the school skirt up his legs, zipping it up so it hung snugly on his hips. The black socks he donned next, followed by the blouse, and the tie. He didn't have an awful lot of time, but he'd rather miss breakfast than not wear the make-up, that would be blasphemous he thought. It was just one of those days.
The wig he wore that day was a very nice one, one that he'd only purchased a few weeks ago before the beginning of term, and it was the first time he wanted to wear it, entranced by the shocking red ringlets and uneven fringe. It encompassed to him, everything he was feeling that day. Finally, with his white Martens on, and his crutches in hand, he left the safety of his room. It was always a little bit daunting the first time every year that he felt like Alice, he was still a little bit scared that they'd all start laughing at him.
Sometimes the first years did, but more often than not an older student would send them a withering look and they'd stop. But they wouldn't cease staring, because that was impossible.
"Hey Alice," a group of Ravenclaws greeted as he made his way down the stairs. "Nice wig, it really suits you."
"I'm sure you've got a better taste for hairstyles than half of the girls here," one of them muttered, but Alice could tell it wasn't at all serious.
He felt as if it was probably just for the best for him to go straight to Transfiguration instead of going down and then back up, he could save his leg the trouble. Professor McGonagall offered him a small smile as she held the door open for him.
It wasn't long before the class began to fill up, and Draco took his customary seat beside Alice, with Hermione on the table beside them with Ron. Alice couldn't work out why the boy beside him was flushed red, and it was a deep, fairly obvious blush at that. Alice didn't want to pry, just in case something had happened that he wasn't aware of. If Alice were being entirely truthful, he would say Draco looked a little guilty, maybe he'd said something unpleasant to a first year again, it wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence after all. It was also possible that Draco had accidentally whacked someone in the bollocks again. That was bound to be it, as that was a far more embarrassing predicament than making an odd noise at a first year. By this point, nearly everyone in the school was well used to Draco's tics, the first years on the other hand weren't and some were particularly fond of mockery.
It wasn't until near the end of the lesson that anything interesting really happened. Without warning Draco flinched, and his head hit the desk with a rather painful sounding crack.
Stunned silence filled the class, the tics weren't usually that bad, it was uncommon for him to hurt himself, though he did occasionally slap annoyances under the guise of not being able to control his flailing.
"Mr Malfoy, is everything quite alright?" McGonagall asked, deep concern with the barest hint of trying not to laugh riddling her voice.
There was another almighty bang as Draco's head hit the desk for a second time, after which he just glared at the Head of Gryffindor.
"I've just fucking head butted a desk twice, while I'm thankful it wasn't the floor or wall it still fucking hurt. Can I go to the Hospital Wing?"
Alice couldn't help but watch his back as he carefully made his way out of the class, legs trembling slightly, and his arm occasionally twitching.
;) oh yes. Please enjoy, though I do want your opinions.