I would just like everyone to be warned that this fanfiction is very dark, like just in case you didn't get the memo. Contains: Violence, Sex, and other things that can make you incredibly doesn't have a main pairing as much as my character just fucks everything. It might include incest, I def. see that developing because of how sick and twisted their lives are.

I would also like to say that while this is formatted as this will be a series, it really is to be read as one whole book, so this AN is the same throughout the whole book series. I don't believe the smut will happen in the first book due to the ages. Will there be slight sexual situations, yes and no. Kids don't understand at all what they're doing, anything implied with adults will be implied, merely that. And with kids, it won't be as descriptive as say the violence.

I swear that will change. But I do want them to age a bit.

Queen of Disaster

Chapter 1

In A Name

"Brat!" He threw her crumpling body, mangled from being beaten seemingly within an inch of her life. Her Uncle Vernon laughed loudly, cruel in his vision and words, his laugh seemed to grow hoarse as he slammed the cupboard door. It grasped onto her vivid, red hair pulling her head painfully back and leaving a gap of bald skin on the top of her scalp. She was thrown into the body of her only comfort, her younger brother, Harry. She had taken another beating for him, but their monstrous Uncle had begun to grow tired of her screams. Still, she felt a sense of satisfaction that Harry had yet to break.

The bruises did not mar his pale skin as they did her's. In fact, due to mass amount of wounds she had covering her body, it was as if she were a walking corpse. It didn't help she was incredibly easy to bruise due to her incredibly fair skin. Harry flinched as he had felt her body slam into him, only to worry as he felt her be pulled back by the door. Still, some strands of her were cut underneath it and he quickly scrambled to find them, ripping the thin, fine hairs out from under it. "Are you alright Vera?"

"It-It hurts."

"No shit!" He growled as softly as he could possibly manage under his breath, which wasn't very soft at all. But their Uncle and Aunt relished in their ability to tear their niece and nephew down.

It had been like this for as long as either of them could remember. But the both of them knew someone had loved them at least once upon a time ago. Or at least, that's what Harry thought. He knew Vera was much more bitter than he was. Although he didn't blame her, he felt guilty, but he was a coward, he knew it, he didn't want to beaten either, plus, Vera would beat Harry herself if she thought he would ever defend her.

"I- I don't know what to do." His hands rubbed softly over her swollen and bruised arms. "You're better at it than I am." He muttered.

She gave a pain-filled smile. He could see it's warm brightness even in the darkness of their cupboards. "You can do it, I- ah, I believe in you."

"I should probably get you in the bed." He said to himself. He tried his best to pull her up the floor and slide her to the mattress. It was difficult. She was heavy, not that she was fat, but Harry was far from strong. He was fast. No, Vera was the strong one. He laid her gently on the thin pad they were forced to call a bad. It was better than the floor he supposed, but not by much.

By this time, his hands were covered in blood from the cuts that traced her skin. Uncle Vernon had brought out his knife today and his belt. She was naked, of course. Harry knew Uncle Vernon didn't rape her or sexually molest her, but he knew his sister and when he looked at his sister, Harry saw true beauty: in the way she looked, but also in the way she was as a human being. However, their Uncle had no use for her personality and soon he would make that clear.

Harry had seen it, just a glimpse of his Uncle's putrid brown eyes as he flicked to cast his gaze over Vera's budding breasts. It was sick. Harry had felt a true rage caress his heart, but there was little he could do about. All other attempts had failed. He placed her front-forward, wiping his hands on his much-too large t-shirt. They had no fear anymore. Any of the people from social service always seemed to disappear. It frankly sucked and he had long given up hope of ever escaping the Dursleys, but Vera had never given up hope.

And she seemed to have been able to read his mind: "We'll leave someday." She said. "I know we will. I promise we will."

She said this with such exhaustion that Harry feared for a quick, slumbering death. That's what old people did in movies. And boy, did Vera sound old. Harry nodded and grasped her hand, clasping his tired fingers around her's. He closed his eyes, searching for it, grasping for it, but it was like trying to find a needle in a hay stack. Vera had always been more talented at it than he. Harry didn't know why, but he always seemed to be behind her in every way.

He wanted to cry. He would never be able to heal her.

Not that he needed to.

She would be fine in the morning.

But he would do anything to take away her pain and it seemed just when he was about to give up hope, he found it, the special thrum that gave a wonderful feeling all through out his body. He exhaled roughly as he felt it trickle down from his hand and into her very being. He could feel her shake as she began to cry and she would have sobbed had she not known the consequences. "Do not cry." He said softly, trying to keep the anger from his voice. "Please."

"I cannot help it, Harry. I swear." She gasped at the feeling of his essence pouring into her. She could feel the numbness setting in. "Si-Sing for me. That song. My favorite. You have such a lovely singing voice."

"Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart. Never to part. Baby of mine." They had first heard the song during their first year at Primary School. They had been placed in the same class by pure luck. It was called "Baby Mine" and it was from Dumbo. They were sure it had to have some original singer and they had just used it, but they were only ten, and although they had already gone through so much, they were still not yet knowledgeable enough about the world around them. Harry had a lovely voice. This was a fact. Vera often compared it to hearing an angel, which would make Harry blush. He didn't consider it that good. Vera would laugh and reassure him that it was beautiful. That they were beautiful, with or without parents.

Sometimes, Harry got the feeling Vera hated their birth parents.

For leaving them with the Dursleys?

He didn't know.

Personally, he thought she hated her name more than anything for it wasn't Vera, not really. It was Guinevere. Their Aunt Petunia made sure to do her best to remind Vera that Guinevere was a scandalous whore who cheated on her husband and was burned at stake. They had looked it up in the library as well as her current nickname. Vera meant "faith" or "true".

Harry suppose that was accurate.

After all, if Vera didn't faith, how else could she continue on with this life?

Harry didn't know. His name meant powerful or something like that.

This is why he didn't place his trust in names, especially given names, not chosen names.

Harry didn't get to choose Harry; But he made sure that Vera became Vera.

It was the least he could do.