I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved.

Something I'm not supposed to talk about,

The way you violated me,

Something that I could've lived without,

The way you put your hands all over me,

I wonder do you lie awake and think at night?

How you tore my innocence in two,

I wonder do you cry yourself to sleep at night?

'Cause I can tell you it's what you made me do.

- Seventh Day Slumber "Innocence"

Harry's POV

Pain-- such a strange word.

It is nothing more than a small, four letter word like they, or if you wish to get colorful than damn or shit. But, it isn't as shallow as those words; it has meaning. Meaning that encompasses a world of possibility--even if it's not the nicest of possibilities. Pain does not discriminate or play favorites, but instead bestows its curse upon all of its subjects equally. The loss of a teddy bear will make a little girl cry just as hard as a King when faced with the loss of his Kingdom. It is all the same to pain.

I chuckled at my own wayward thoughts, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. Who in their right mind would spend time thinking about a four letter word? Although, I didn't have anything better to do with my time.

Once again my eyes grazed across my thigh, noting the dieing trail of red. I needed more. I wasn't ready to remember… or forget. Slowly, so as to relish in the moment, I glide the small razor across my skin, disturbing a collage of angry stripes. My mind becomes entranced with the small river rising from my skin. I loved this feeling, for me this is utopia. Sighing, I lean back against my bed as I allow the pain to steal my mind, emotions, thoughts… and me. This was utopia…

Pain was utopia… I can feel myself slipping now, the pain taking over my senses.

In the back of my mind I registered a noise. Was that a car? My mind starts to wake slowly, grasping for reality.

There, another sound. A door slamming. SHIT! Uncle Vernon was home.

My mind races as I scrambled to hide the evidence of what I'd been doing. Quickly, I shoved the razor under my bed followed by the bloody shirt that had been catching my life force.

Heavy foot steps could be heard rising up the stairs, accompanied by grumbling. My hand grazes across my thigh to stop the blood flow and create a glamour which would hide the scares that made my thigh look like raw meat.

The foot steps grow closer and I am able to make out their irregular beats. He was drunk. My mind scrambles to think of anything else that needed to be done. The blood! I reach under the bed to pull out the bloody shirt and speedily clean any mess that landed on the floor.

I can hear his heavy breathing as he approaches my door. Finally, I shove the shirt back under the bed and jump for my pants so as to throw them on myself. Hopefully, out of sight and out of mind would save me from his attentions. My door opens as I stand up, quickly zipping my zipper. I hear his deranged mumblings and feel my dread of what was to come.

"Ya' been a bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boys always getin' punished. I was always gitin' punished. No parent likes punishin' their kid, but it gatta be done for ya' own good…" His mumbling continues as he grabs me by the arm and pulls me to him. I was nose to nose with him now—drowning in his foul, drunken odor. He breaths deep, all the while lowering his head to my cheek, neck, collarbone… he continues downward until his path is brought to an abrupt halt by the collar of my shirt. Releasing an animalistic grunt of displeasure, he tares the shirt from my body, leaving me in need of yet another shirt.

Seeming pleased with his actions, he puffs up and sneers in my face. I am careful not to let any emotions out, even as my heart fails to numb itself. Pushing me to the bed, he then sets to the task of removing my pants. I flinch at this, failing to hide my fear.

He growls and bares his teeth at me. "I'm doin' this for ya' own good! Now don't ya' go flinchin' away from me!" With this he back hands me and leaves my mind reeling to pull its senses back together.

Then I feel it. Something snaps inside of me, and I feel, with no small amount of relief, a numb impassiveness overtaking my heart and mind. My body becomes limp. I am nothing more than a puppet now—a sex toy for Uncle Vernon's pleasure.

His hands begin to ravage my body, and yet, I feel nothing. His mouth joins in now, tracing from my neck to my limp cock—I feel nothing. When reaching my length, he takes it into his mouth and begins to suck—I feel nothing. His annoyance grows as he realizes that his attention goes unnoticed. He lashes out at me, breaking a rib—I feel nothing.

He returns to his prior engagements, but this time chooses to be pleased instead of pleasing. He instructs me to disrobe him—I feel nothing. He wants to feel me lavish his body with attention—I feel nothing. He instructs me to use my mouth—I feel nothing. His hand pushes me lower as he shoves his length into my face—I feel nothing. I open my mouth and take him into me—I feel nothing. A new texture enters my mouth as his body shivers and he cries out—I choke.

He is angry again, how dare I not meet his standards. He flips me over roughly and begins to mutilate my back—I feel nothing. His cock begins to perk up as he butchers my body—I feel nothing. The beating continues as his claws are added into the mix—I feel nothing. His cock grows harder—I feel nothing. He takes me hard and fast—I feel nothing. Blood pours out from between my legs and joins the awaiting red ocean—I feel nothing. My body screams in protest as he rips open my insides—I feel nothing. His assault becomes more desperate as he comes closer to completion—I feel nothing. He comes again, mixing his semen with my blood—I feel nothing. He pulls out, his apatite met for the night—I feel nothing. He slowly dresses himself—I feel nothing. He exits, leaving my maimed body in agony—I feel nothing.

I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel…

A single tear roles down my cheek—I feel shame.

In a world of pain I am nothing more than a little girl who has lost her teddy bear.