Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely related to Harry Potter. Except for a few movies. Otherwise it is J.K. Rolling and all her publishers that have the copyright:)
Chapter One
Harry Potter was not a very happy child.
He lived with his relatives, and they were not very nice people, at least to him. For the most part, they ignored him. If they had to live with him, the least they could do was ignore him. His Uncle Vernon didn't often beat him, it wasted too much of his energy.
There were, however, a few more unpleasant aspects of his life. Other than being ignored, that is. One, was that he was forced to do ALL of the chores around the house. Unless they were all finished to satisfactory means, he would not get any food. Thus, Harry Potter was a very thin little boy, with wiry muscles built onto his frame.
Second, and really the most unpleasant thing about his life, was his Uncle Vernon and his Urges. This is what he always said to Harry, at least. "I have an urge, Boy." This didn't happen very often, mind. His Uncle wouldn't do it if Petunia or Dudley were around, and one of them almost always were. But, none-the-less, it happened often enough for Harry Potter to become an unhappy boy.
He was, currently, sitting in his cupboard, which he didn't mind, really. He didn't exactly feel safe in the small, dark place, but he was fairly comfortable. He was in one of his contemplative moods, and the current direction his thoughts were taking was regarding his age. He knew when his birthday was (having overheard a conversation between his relatives) but he didn't know what day it was.
He was not allowed the paper, and certainly not the TV either. Dud's birthday was some what around his own, so he figured himself to be about nine. How had he even made it this far, anyway? Harry didn't remember too much as a baby, just that he often had diaper rashes. He didn't begin doing chores until he was about three. (he was small for his age.) He didn't begin cooking full meals until about five, and his Uncle didn't begin to have his urges until he was seven or so.
This was how he categorized his life. Currently, nothing new had happened, so he had no knew category. He smiled wistfully, going off into one of his daydreams.
Oh! How he would love to have a family of his own. He could just picture it. He would have a father, of course. One who took him to the park and played games with him. A mother, too. She would read to him and teach him to cook and take him shopping for clothes. And at night, they would both tuck him in together, giving him a kiss and saying, "Good night Harry." It was a very lovely dream.
Creak.
Harry sighed as he let his dream melt away. The creak was fast yet heavy – his uncle. Lately, the man had become a little bolder, coming to satisfy his Urges while the others were asleep. He heard the pounding footsteps approach his cupboard. He did not even pretend to be asleep, and his Uncle made no pretenses about why he was there. He opened the door from the outside, and stood aside to let the boy pass.
Harry was used to the routine. He would be taken out to the shed in the back, and his uncle would lock the door behind him. He would then be pulled roughly into the man's large belly, and his small hands would be forced to expose the hardening length underneath. His uncle had called it a cock, but Harry liked to think of it as some sort of garden hose. He had one, too, of course, but it didn't do what his Uncle's did.
When the man's pants were around his knees, he obediently opened his mouth. This was how it went. His Uncle would force his cock until it touched the back of his throat, and he gagged. Such as now. He would pump back and forth a few times, and then thick, bitter stuff would come out, and his uncle would grunt, and he would be thrown back into his cupboard, and that was the end of it.
Not so tonight.
"Boy." His Uncle barked. "Turn around."
Confused, Harry did so.
Another command, "Pull down your pants."
And Harry did.
"Bend over."
This he did, too, wondering why on earth his Uncle wanted to look at his butt. He felt a moment's panic when fat, rough hands grabbed his hips, and pure fear when the cock touched him. Surely he was not going to force it in there...?
Ah...! He bit back an instinctive scream, holding his breath and letting his mind blank. Pain. All he knew was pain, and that he could not make a sound. His Uncle let out a high moan, and much like with his mouth, pumped a few times before Harry felt the sticky stuff. He himself was sobbing silently. What was that?!
He was given no time to collect himself. Merely dragged back to his cupboard (it hurt to walk) and left to collect himself in the dark. He was still in pain. With his mouth, it had not been pleasant, but it had in no way hurt as much as this.
Harry had a feeling that he was bleeding, and sure enough, when he gently prodded himself, his fingers smelt like blood. He bit back another sob as he slowly opened his cupboard. He was allowed to use the bathroom at night, and he would do so now, see how much he could clean himself up.
Harry Potter was not a very happy child.
Minerva had never liked those muggles Albus had left the Boy Who Lived with. They were downright nasty, horrible creatures.
She took it upon herself to check up on the boy once a year, during the summer, and at night, so as not to be seen. She had hardly seen him when she did visit, but it contented her old heart to see him grow up over the years. Not that he grew much. He was rather small for his age.
She was, currently, well...shocked to the point of just keeling over and dying, really. What she had just seen...what she had just witnessed...In all her years she had never heard of a child actually raped. There were horror stories of muggle children having this done, but she didn't believe them and she certainly didn't expect to become a believer in regards to the Boy Who Lived.
Harry Potter had been raped.
In a shed.
By his Uncle.
And he was only nine years old.
Minerva was quickly hyperventilating. Wasn't that Figg woman supposed to keep an eye on the boy? She had always reported him well and good! What was this she had just seen?!
She took a sharp step back, suddenly filled with anger and purpose. She apparated to the edge of the wards around Hogwarts, and thought up her plan as she walked to the school. That Figg was going to spend some time in Azkaban. The Boy was going to be taken out of that house tonight. Severus had some potions to brew. Albus had both a large shock coming to him, and some explaining to do. There were wards on the house meant to prevent any sort of harm from coming to the boy! And Pomfrey...!
Oh, bloody Merlin.
How had she forgotten it was summer? There was no one here, not now. Pomfrey had gone on vacation with her sister; Albus would normally be here, but a problem had come up with the Wizengamot; and Severus...had stopped by for some ingredients!
She bolted into the castle. Please let him still be here! She ran down to the dungeons, heedless of the waving pictures and the armor and the large rats Hagrid had accidentally set loose. She needed Severus. If worse came to worst, she would, of course, take the boy in. But he needed someone younger! Someone who had too much time on their hands! Like Severus! She came to a halt as she saw the potions master just getting ready to leave.
To say the least, he looked rather shocked to see her panting and gasping and throwing herself at him.
"Minerva...?" Severus asked hesitantly. What on earth was wrong with her? Running through the halls, honestly. And all to find him!
Minerva looked up at him. "Severus!" She suddenly remembered the boy. The way she had heard his uncle moan and the boy's well-muffled sobs. She had not let herself think of it, until now, and suddenly she found tears leaking from her eyes. "Severus!!" She hiccuped. "Harry Potter!...must go get Harry Potter!" By now she was too overcome to make out coherent sentences.
Severus's face had twisted when he heard Harry Potter's name. Really, what was wrong with this woman? She just randomly breaks down into hiccuping sobs and blurts out the name Harry Potter?
"Severus!" Suddenly she was screeching at him, hitting him with her hat. "Go get him! NOW!"
"Wha..."
Minerva gave him no time to voice any of his objections. "Go GET HIM! NOW! I know you know where he lives. GO GET HIM SEVERUS!" She had pulled out her wand, and was now using it in a very muggle way, prodding him hard in the back. She continued her mantra of 'go get him', interspersing it with sharp jabs.
Severus Snape had never seen Minerva McGonagal act this way. She had lost her mind. He had dropped his bags a while back, unwillingly letting himself be ushered toward the edge of the wards. Just before he apparated away (with no intention of going to see the Boy Who Lived), he turned to give her one last, incredulous look.
"He's in the cupboard under the stairs." Her voice cracked. "Bring him back here."
And he was gone.
Snape found himself unwillingly standing on Surrey street. Had he heard her correctly? A cupboard? Hesitant now, he slowly made his way indoors, using a simple unlocking charm. He grimaced. This place was horribly clean. Good for potions, of course, but unnatural where children were involved.
He located the stairs easily. (They were right in front of him, after all.) The cupboard door was also easy to find. His heart fluttered. What if Minerva...?
Oh, well, he'd deal with it when it came. Whatever 'it' was. He slowly opened the cupboard door, and was greeted by a young boy's startled face. Said boy was currently sitting pant less, a hand curved around to touch his leaking bottom.
Oh, Merlin. Surely he hadn't been raped. With a sinking stomach, (and a nose smelling come) he knew that this was exactly what had happened. This was what had gotten Minerva all up in a tiff.
This was not Harry Potter. This was an abused child; and contrary to belief, Severus Snape did not hate all children. (He did hate most of them, though...) In particular, he had a soft spot for the mistreated ones, having had such experience himself.
The boy sat motionless, eyes wide and frozen in fear. Ah, now that was something of a problem. How to transport the boy without causing him more problems? And if he had been forced (this was most likely), treating him would be rather uncomfortable.
"Who're you?" The boy whispered.
"I'm Severus." So far so good.
Bright green eyes darted around, measuring him and looking for escape routes. "What are you doing here?" the boy breathed lightly.
"I'm here to take you with me. To take you away from this place."
Suddenly, Severus was pierced with the boy's eyes. His gaze was unwavering, and hope shone clearly. "Are you my dream?" He asked. "Are you going to be my dad?"
Severus was stunned. Dad...? What was this boy on about? What was this dream? Even as he remained silent, the shine of hope only grew, a small smile appearing. Severus did not have the heart to correct him. He nodded hesitantly.
The boy grinned suddenly, bringing his arms forth, in a child's universal signal that they wanted to be held, and Severus obliged him. He conjured a blanket, wrapping it securely around the small body, before hoisting the child into his arms. Thin arms wound their way around his neck, and a dirty head tucked itself beneath his chin.
"Daddy." The boy whispered.
Severus was, for the second time in as many years, shocked silly. What was the matter with the world? He was comforting a child, accepting a position as father, and cuddling James Potter's son?! Mouth hanging open in horror, he mechanically made his way outside.
"Child?" he needed to know that they were going to apperate. It was quite shock if you weren't prepared, especially for the first time.
"Yes Daddy?"
"I'm going to go to my school now. It will feel a mite funny, but nothing will hurt you. Understand?"
The boy nodded.
Minerva was shocked to see Severus suddenly appear with the boy in his arms. And then to announce that he was taking the boy home, and she could visit him tomorrow, and could she bring his ingredients while she was at it?
He then promptly disappeared, presumably going to his home. She had thought he was the right man for the job, but she didn't know he would do so with so little complaint. Really, this was a good turn of events.
Satisfied that she had made at least a little part of the world right, Minerva went on her way back to the castle. She would visit him tomorrow, of course.
And little Harry Potter, too.
Hopefully they would survive each other.
