Disclaimer: Still not mine.
Warning: child abuse, implied slash, AU
A/N: Wrote this for the HBP Character Bonanza run by ArtisticAunJuli on dA with the first day's character, Harry. I had no idea what to write, so my friend kenzie suggested this. I hope it makes sense, it's not in my usual format and it skips through time quite a bit. This can stand alone, but I'm going to try to connect each day's fics together, so some things may be better explained there. Anyway, this is the longest thing I've written in a long long time and I'm very proud of it and happy. I hope you enjoy it!! :D
---
July 29, 1986
Harry glanced across the street. He thought he saw a man looking at him from the shadows next to one of the houses. For a moment he entertained thoughts that the man was going to kidnap him. He blinked and the man was gone. Sighing, he shook his head. It was fanciful to imagine that someone would want to kidnap someone like him. Even if it would be a blessing.
Sighing again, he returned to clipping the begonias. Aunt Marge would be arriving the next day for a week long visit and Aunt Petunia wanted the garden (as well as the rest of the house) to look absolutely perfect.
An hour later he was finished with the garden, just as the sun was sinking down behind the houses. As soon as he stepped into the house, Aunt Petunia began berating him for tracking in mud, each shriek punctuated by a sharp rap to the side of his head. She shrieked even more at the bits of blood that hit the wall before telling him to eat quickly and get on with his chores.
Slightly dizzy, he washed up then went to the kitchen for a quick dinner of week old bread. His "meal" was finished in moments and he headed back to the bathroom. If he cleaned that one and the other two quickly, he might avoid Uncle Vernon's nightly beating. Luck, however, was not on his side.
July 30, 1986
The next morning Harry woke up curled in a ball in the floor of the cupboard he called home. He sat up gingerly, noting with dismay that his ribs were quite sore, one of his fingers seemed to be broken, and he was covered in dried blood. He rushed to get cleaned before everyone else woke up so he could make breakfast.
Breakfast was a fairly quiet affair, Harry only getting slapped twice for an overcooked egg. After breakfast, Uncle Vernon headed out to collect Aunt Marge while Harry finished up some last minute cleaning and Aunt Petunia and Dudley sat, enjoying the new telly.
That afternoon was one of the worst in Harry's short life. After he wiped down the windows (again, he could've sworn a man was watching him), Aunt Petunia had shoved him into the bath for a quick bath (half drowning him in the process) then into his nicest suit of clothing, which wasn't saying much as they had been Dudley's when he was about three.
When Aunt Marge arrived, things got even worse. He had been ignored except for a short order to take all her luggage to the guest room, but she had demanded his attention afterward. The slightly drunk and horribly obese woman first used him as a table for her drink then, after a sound beating when he jostled it just slightly, as a footstool. When she got bored of that, she decided he would make a good punching back for Dudley. The rest of the afternoon was one big blur of pain for Harry.
That evening, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge got spectacularly drunk. The two were quite violent when intoxicated, and Aunt Petunia and Dudley quickly retired, not wishing to incite their wrath. With no other outlets, they chose to take out their drunken anger on Harry. The last thing he remembered was pain, blood, and the cold tile of the kitchen.
July 31, 1986
Harry again woke sore and covered in dried blood, although on the kitchen floor this time. A glance at the clock on the wall told him that he didn't have much time before everyone else came down for breakfast. In a rush, he cleaned the floor and himself and started the eggs and bacon.
After breakfast (where Harry only received two kicks to his already sore side), Aunt Marge decided that she should take the Dudley shopping for presents. It was quickly decided that Harry would come along too, but only to carry the packages.
Harry was glad to be out of the house, even if it was shopping with Aunt Marge and Dudley. He hadn't been into the city since he had tried to run away a little before he turned five, a year before. Remembering that horrible day, Harry suddenly realized it was his birthday. His hysterical laughter earned him a clout to the head and a sharp punch to the jaw. Smiling wryly, he followed his relatives to the first shop.
Leaving the third toyshop, his arms laden with boxes, Harry discovered that he was again being watched. Peering past the stack of boxes in front of him, he spied a tall, black haired man dressed all in black. As soon as the man saw him looking, he disappeared. Harry was sure this time that the man was following him, although he didn't know why.
Back at the house, Harry dropped the mountain of bags and boxes in Dudley's second bedroom. He headed downstairs, hoping to make it to his cupboard and be able to hide before anyone noticed him. As the first barrage of fist rained down on him, he realized he should never have been so optimistic. His last conscious thought was that it would have been nice if his cupboard was upstairs.
August 2, 1986
Harry woke to the sound of chirping birds. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was not sore, covered in blood, or laying on a floor. In fact, he was in a bed, a very soft bed at that.
Trying not to panic, he looked around. He had expected to be in a hospital room, but that didn't seem to be the case. Instead, he was in small bedroom, plain and dark. A small window on the other side of the room showed him a stunted tree with a small, drab bird. The landscape was not an inviting one by any means.
Not knowing what else to do, Harry inspected the room without moving from the bed. He was really too comfortable to move, and who knew what was out there, wherever he was? The room, however, seemed to be safe and he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the song of the bird outside.
A few minutes later, he tried again not to panic as the door opened. Inside stepped the dark-haired man he had seen watching him the last few days, followed by a small creature with batty ears and huge eyes.
"I see you are awake," the man said, glaring at him. Harry backed away from the man, unsure why the man seemed to hate him so much, but nodded. "This," he said, gesturing at the creature now beside him, "is Dibsy. She will be taking care of you and answer your questions. Do not disturb me." With a curt nod, he turned to sweep back out the door.
"Wait! Who are you, at least?" Harry blurted before he could stop himself. He shrank back as the cold gaze rested on him.
"My name is Severus Snape," the man replied, then left, closing the door loudly behind him.
August 31, 1986
Harry had not seen much of Snape for the last few weeks, except for meals, although they were the only inhabitants of the house aside from Dibsy. The man didn't seem to like him, although Dibsy, a house elf as he had learned, would not confirm his suspicious.
The little house elf did answer all his other questions, though. He soon learned that magic was real, he was a wizard (and quite a famous one at that) as was Snape, Snape worked at the magical school Hogwarts, and that said school would start term the next day.
That evening at dinner, Harry decided to ask the older man what was to happen. Unsurprisingly, the man sneered before informing him that he would stay at the house under the watch of Dibsy, while he, Snape, would leave for Hogwarts, to be gone until late June. Harry resigned himself to almost a year of boredom, alone.
June 30, 1987
The year had not been as boring as he had feared. In fact, he had learned a lot from Dibsy about a range of subjects. He had been quite lonely though.
Tonight, however, was the night Snape should return home. The man may not like him, but any company was better to Harry than the horrible loneliness he had suffered through the past year.
Unsurprisingly, the man glared at him as soon as he entered the house.
July 31, 1991
It was Harry's eleventh birthday, the day he had been waiting for since Dibsy had told him he was a wizard. Today, he would receive his Hogwarts letter.
He was excited, yes, but also very nervous. Starting school meant Snape would be one of his professors and he would see the man more often than he ever had in the last five years. They got along much better now, but things were still tense every once in awhile.
Finally, the owl arrived with his invitation to Hogwarts. To his surprise, Snape smiled slightly, and Harry could even swear he saw pride in the dark eyes before it was quickly shoved away. Harry couldn't have been happier.
September 1, 1991
Snape had Apparated straight to Hogwarts that morning at ten, leaving Harry to get to the train himself. The man had told him how to get to the train, but Harry was still very nervous. Thankfully, a kind, plump, read-headed witch with her four children had taken pity on him and helped him out. The youngest son turned out to be in the same year as he was and quite nice, so Harry spent the train ride talking and eating with him.
The sorting had been even more nerve-wracking than getting on the train could ever be. The hat had debated for what seemed like hours between putting him in Gryffindor or Slytherin.
Finally, Harry told it that he would rather be in Gryffindor since his new friend Ron was sure to get in there. The hat complied. Glancing up at the head table before heading to his own new table, he could swear he saw a flash of disappointment in Snape's dark eyes. A small smile, however, wiped away all his insecurities.
December 20, 1996
It was the last day of tern before Christmas break. Harry had been invited over to the Weasley's and they were leaving in the morning, so he really needed to do this if he was going to do it. Gathering all his courage, he knocked on the office door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
"Come in," the cool voice of Professor Riddle called. Shivering with nervousness, he did just that.
Inside, Professor Riddle was sitting at his desk, dark hair loose around his shoulders and tie gone. Harry was speechless. Wondering what was wrong with the teen, the professor rose and walked over to him.
"Is there something wrong, Harry?" he asked, concerned. He gasped as the black-haired boy pressed a small kiss to his lips.
"Happy holidays, sir," Harry whispered, then ran, cheeks ablaze. He wordlessly shook his head back in the Gryffindor Common Room when Ron asked him what was wrong.
May 31, 1998
Harry sat in the library, feverishly studying. The first of his N.E.W.T.S. was tomorrow, and he felt as if he knew nothing and would certainly fail. It didn't seem to cross his mind that his class marks were second only to his friend Hermione Granger.
Ignoring the fact that Madame Pince was beginning to put out all the lamps in the library, he continued poring over his notes. A small noise behind him left him gasping, startled out of his scholarly concentration.
"That's enough for tonight, love, you need your sleep," a voice whispered, breath tickling his ear.
"I know, I know," Harry replied, sighing. He turned to the man behind him. "Be a dear and put away my books, would you Tom?"
Professor Tom Riddle rolled his eyes, but complied with a flick of his wand. "Now, will you go to bed?" he asked, frowning as the youth stumbled slightly getting up.
"Yes," Harry said tiredly. When he stumbled again, the man picked him up, ignoring the small protests. Relaxing into the arms around him, Harry realized that although his N.E.W.T.S. were tomorrow and he was exhausted and unsure, he had never been happier in his life.
---
A/N: Thank you for reading it, and I do hope you liked it. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. And please, REVIEW!!! :D