If it bothers you that this is not double spaced, please, pm me on how to make it do that.
Saturdays always made Harry feel cold.
Jack, Dave, and Rick would always go out early in the morning, not to return until sometime the next day. Harry was grateful for the break from them, but he was still left in the musty old house that he hadn't been allowed to leave since he had been kidnapped… two years ago?
Whenever Harry had gotten so mad that he blew up Aunt Marge, he ran. He ran until he had passed the park. He ran so far that when he finally gave out, he had no idea where he was. He sat down on the ground in an alley in fear that someone from the wizarding world would recognize him on the street. The last thing he wanted was to be told he was no longer welcome to Hogwarts.
The men weren't particularly intimidating when they walked past the alley, but when the dark haired one locked eyes with him...Harry knew something bad was going to happen. Harry reached for his wand (if he was already expelled what was one or two more spells), but the man was on him before he could pull it out. The others followed suit and they far over powered him in strength.
Jack had pushed his side hard into the brick. Harry's wand snapped, and that was it.
Harry had lived under the thumbs of these men for a few years. As far as he could tell, the men were dogs of a muggle gang. He very rarely saw anyone but the three of them. He once overheard them talking about their leader not liking the lower ranks associating with anyone in a position of power- too easy for the gang to be incarcerated. He supposed that was the entire reason he was kept locked in the house, to clean up after the men, to cook for the men, to be a bed warmer.
Saturdays made Harry think about too many things, too many happy, horrible, painful things. He tried to think of what his life would have been like, how he would have grown up with his friends, how he'd have taken his O.W.L.s this year. He'd sit all day, dreaming of being somewhere other than there, in the midst of the people that loved and cared for him.
The phone rang through the house with a cold shrillness, tearing him out of his useless daydreaming. He wasn't allowed to answer the phone nor would he dare. The phone only ever rang when the dogs' boss called. It only rang a few times, but Harry knew that if their boss was calling they'd be back sooner rather than later, cutting his Saturday short. With this in mind, he started to clean the stale living space and placed some cold beers out in the living room where he knew the men would fall into the chairs as usual.
The small radio built into the kitchen cabinet hummed out muffled dance tunes. Harry focused on the music to keep himself calm as he continued to prepare for his "masters." Only a few songs played through before Harry clicked the radio off, sensing the beasts would be back soon, and of course, they were.
Harry heard the car throwing up gravel as the men pulled up to the house. He promptly took his usual place in the large bean-bag chair in the corner of the room just as Jack slammed the door open.
"Shit, man! We couldn't even pick up girls this time!" whined Dave as he and Rick trudged in behind a fuming Jack. Jack looked around and found his obedient little play toy.
"You'll be fine, Dave. That's why we have Angel," he said, pointedly gazing at Harry. At the mention of his "special" name, Harry started to feel that familiar sickening fear as Rick sat down wearily across from him and popped open a can of beer as Jack stormed to his room to gather supplies for the upcoming deal.
Harry held his breath as Dave loomed over him and slipped a calloused hand into his old, ratty shirt. He let out a gasp as the hand firmly swept over his chest. Dave grabbed his face bruisingly and crashed his lips against the smaller boy's.
He tastes like menthols and that cheap beer…
The angel's stomach lurched as his shirt was ripped off. A hand was suddenly ruffling Harry's hair. When he looked up, he saw that Rick had moved over to them. Fear clutched Harry again when he was hoisted into Rick's lap as Dave wiggled his torn jeans off. Rick occupied himself by playing with the boy's nipples and kissing his neck, while Dave's hand moved onto Harry's more private regions.
Shivers were sent through his spine as the men ravaged upon his body. Dave's fingers, covered in Harry's fluid, moved into him. A loud moan came from the angel's throat and angry tears welled up in his eyes.
"Alright already! You're taking too long," sighed an impatient Rick. He suddenly thrust his huge member into Harry making him cry out in a mix of pain and sick pleasure as Rick continued to thrust into him greedily while biting his neck.
When Rick finally filled him up, Dave hurriedly grabbed the shivering boy. "Come on, Angel. Make me cum too," whispered Dave. He threw Harry on the floor, grabbing the backs of the boy's knees and forcing his legs toward his face. As Dave thrust into Harry, his dirty fingernails cut into his pale, soft legs. All Harry could do in his exhaustion was let tears flow as Dave finally finished.
Hands full of the usual drugs and guns, Jack sauntered into the room. He gave the scene an uncaring look and mocked, "Come on, 'Little Ricky'. We gotta take these to the boss." With a scowl, Rick straightened his clothes, Dave following suit. The two underdogs took the supplies from Jack and exited the house. Jack sent an appraising look over to his angel before following the other two out the front entrance, the door slamming shut behind him.
The broken angel was left on the floor in a sweaty, sticky heap. It was some time before he forced himself to get up and shuffle to the bathroom. He ran a shaky hand through his curly, shoulder length hair and resolved to take a much needed shower.
He closed the door and looked at himself in the full length mirror. His green eyes were blood shot, and his pale skin was blotched and covered in bruises. There was dried blood staining his inner thighs. Today was one of those few times when the men didn't bother use real lubrication.
Even at the age of fifteen, Harry was small from undernourishment. Not that he'd care much about his looks even if he had them; he was apparently "pretty" enough to earn his nick-name, though he never found it to be "cute" or "endearing"- it just felt like a vulgar descriptive, like when they called women bitches. They'd made Harry toss his glasses when they noticed they no longer worked for him- he looked better without them, anyway, they'd said.
After his shower, Harry put his jeans back on and made his way to Jack's closet- Jack never seemed to mind when he donned one of his older shirts. He finally found one that hadn't been worn for ages, not wanting to take something that would be missed. The flannel was far too big for him, but had long sleeves and would keep him warm.
The whole house was freezing. Harry rubbed his hands together for warmth. He wondered what time of year it was and decided it was a safe bet that it was winter. Winter meant that Hogwarts was in full swing. Harry wondered what the kids in 5th year would be learning. Hermione would probably be badgering Ron and him to study for tests. Harry smiled into the air at the thought of his best friends.
BANG! BANG!
Someone was knocking fiercely on the front door causing Harry to nearly jump out of his skin. He didn't know what to do, especially with no magic. Panic surged through him. No one had ever banged on the door like that. Ever. Normally people would beg them for free drugs, but they knew better than to disrespect the building. Harry went slowly over to the door and it was pounded upon again. Looking through the peephole, he saw a tall man in a tailored black coat. Harry thought he looked similar to a gangster, like in the movies he'd seen Dudley watching as a kid.
BANG!
"Open this door. Now." The words were spoken loud enough for him to hear, just barely.
Is this their boss? He could see why they were all so subservient to him.
Harry ran back to Jack's bedroom and hid in the small closet he'd just been rifling through.
BAM!
The blast of the door breaking open. Harry curled up into the smallest ball he could contort himself into.
The man. Was in. The house.
Silence engulfed the dwelling. For a moment, Harry thought the man had seen that the men weren't there and had simply left; however, that thought was banished when he heard the bedroom door pop open from the dampness. Harry closed his eyes and waited for what would come next with a panicked and racing heart. He heard the man sigh, and the closet door slid slowly open.
Hysterically, Harry began to plead desperately. "Please, I-I'm just...don't hurt me. Please! I'll be good. I promise! Just please...Please…" His voice faded into whimpers. The man barely heard Harry's words he was so quiet. Tears rolled down Harry's face as he watched the stranger's face soften to a sad and pained expression.
"Boy, do you not recognize me? I won't hurt you," the man whispered harshly as he kneeled down closer to Harry. Harry relaxed a little, but the tears still flowed, and a whimper escaped his lips as he squinted up at the man.
"Harry?" the man queried lightly.
A gasp escaped Harry's throat; no one connected with the men would know his real name.
"How…how do you know me?" His voice was still barely audible, but the man heard.
"Harry... I'm sorry this happened to you. Surely you recognize your potions professor when you see him, however abysmal your eyesight may be," the professor said gently.
Harry's eyes widened. It was too much for him. Too much. Too quick. Snape was here?! He was being…kind, and he was going to rescue him? Harry's body gave out, and he fell helplessly toward his professor who quickly caught him.
"Snape...?" a faint whisper came from Harry's barely parted lips before he passed out in the potion master's arms.
Hi, readers of FF. I would really love reviews and feedback. I will try my hardest to post once a week. Right now I'm involved with RENT the musical, so it's taking up most of my time. :)