Author's Note: I do not and never will own HP.

So "Better Than the Dursleys" kind of won't leave my head. So here, have a multi-chapter nobody asked for! :P

Overall warning for child abuse, child neglect, some self harm mentions, and suicidal ideation.

He was a small boy- unnaturally small for his age, perhaps, but he looked smaller now, curled up in a window ledge behind a protective fall of curtain. His robes were too big for him, and that didn't help, either. Shabby trainers poked out from the hem, tied on with double-knotted ratty laces.

It was bright outside, he could see, nose pressed to the window. The sun was a warm lemon, the clouds were like wispy puffs of white candy floss, and he could hear shouts filtered through the castle walls, of all the students below, running around and splashing in the shallows of the lake.

It was a beautiful day, but it wasn't for Harry Potter, because tomorrow was the first day of summer holidays, and that meant the Dursleys.

It wasn't that he was ungrateful, he hastened to reassure even himself. He wasn't- or at least, he didn't mean to be. He knew they didn't have to take him in. They were very kind. They told him that themselves. They could have dropped him off at an orphanage or just left him in a parking lot to throw his lot in with the street kids or strangers or the police (but he wasn't ever supposed to talk to the police). He thought maybe they were considering it a time or two, but those were mean thoughts. Ungrateful thoughts. So he pushed them away.

And it wasn't that they were bad to him. Not really. So his bedroom for most of his life was the cupboard under the stairs. So he'd been brought up, learning to do the chores almost before he could walk properly. He was just earning his keep. Paying his dues to the family that had him foisted off on them, left in nothing but a basket and a blanket. He wasn't worth anything but what he could do for them. He was used to it.

Except then Hagrid showed up, with a slightly squashed birthday cake and a letter that made Harry feel like he was filled with golden bubbles, sparkling and fizzing until his smile was too big for his face. Except then he found out his parents didn't die in a drunken pile-up. His "freakiness" had a name. He wasn't alone.

But he was alone, in the end, wasn't he? He sighed, sitting back from the window so he could use the sleeve of his robes to wipe his face. He had asked the Headmaster if he could stay at Hogwarts. Pleaded with him. Begged him.

Dumbledore said no. Family was important, Dumbledore said. He'd understand when he was older, Dumbledore said. It was safer to stay with the Dursleys. Safer. Harry snorted now, wiping his nose on his robes. He was crying again and hadn't even noticed.

When they aren't pretending I don't exist, you mean? He had wanted to shout at the man. His hands trembled in reactionary after shocks. When I don't have to eat scraps out of the rubbish bin and fill myself up with the tap? When I get a chore list as long as my arm and more added besides if I don't finish? How is that safer?

But he'd said nothing. Just muttered a stiff "thanks for your time" and exited before the tears could scald his cheeks and embarrass him even more. Hogwarts was supposed to be a refuge. His sanctuary.

How could it be when it had an expiration date?

It wasn't fair.

Lost in his own misery, Harry curled up over himself, letting the tears still trickle down his face, soaking his collar. He knew he should get up, make himself presentable, finish packing and pretend to Ron and Hermione that his summer would be just as normal as theirs.

He did nothing until the curtain twitched aside and the rather formidable figure of his Potions professor filled the gap.