Standard disclaimer: I don't plan on making a profit. So don't expect one by sueing me.
Family is of Our Own Making.
The small half sized wooden door was slammed behind Harry leaving him in darkness. Harry let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding and pulled his knees up to this chest. Slowly he wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his head on top of his knees feeling hungry and terribly, terribly lonely. They didn't love him and Harry couldn't change that. He couldn't change the fact that their son, his cousin, was loved. He couldn't change the fact that his cousin hated him. Harry closed his eyes and wished with all his heart that he had a brother, someone who could be his friend, someone who would be dark haired and small like him, someone who would love him.
Eventually he slept. He dreamed. He dreamt of terrible searing pain; his body stretching and twisting, tearing itself into two. He dreamt of all that was him being pulled from himself and divided. He didn't have the words to describe it, it hurt and it didn't seem to end until it was over. Harry wasn't sure if he was still dreaming. He was shaking and so hungry it hurt. He also felt empty in a different way, in a way that hurt his heart. Kind of like how he'd felt when he'd finally found the courage to ask where his Mum and Dad were and he'd been told about the car crash. Harry froze. He also wasn't alone, the sound of someone else breathing was suddenly the only thing he could hear, the warmth of another body and the scent of something coppery overwhelming. Cautiously he turned the door handle and pushed the cupboard door open just a crack letting in some light.
He was small like him, unconscious and covered in blood and when Harry touched him to try and find out where he was bleeding the ache in his chest lessened. He didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere, at least not anymore. He had the same eyebrows as his own. Harry noticed, though the other's were lighter in colour. Harry traced them with a finger and the other opened his eyes. They were a light brown Harry saw, not green like his eyes.
"Hi," Harry said quietly.
"He…Hello" the other said back, perhaps a little loudly.
"Boy, who are you talking to?" His Aunt's voice was sharp, cutting over the quiet murmur of the television.
"No one, Aunt Petunia" Harry was quick to say, but it was too late. He heard the sound of the television being turned off and her footsteps as she made her way over to his cupboard and then the screaming started.