Harry has always loved the sunset.
He likes watching the day end, when he finally gets a break from the dreary housework. It is a fading of the heat of the midday sun that glares down on him, burning his limbs bright crimson until they peel off in flakes. He observes the monotonous green of the stalks of grass as he weeds the lawn and the nettles growing far into the thorny brambles that stick out at odd angles, out of the shrubbery that line the boundaries of the house. Harry always gets scratches from weeding as he crawls on hands and knees under the bushes. He feels the blood welling up in brilliant scarlet beads on the back of his neck before they trickle down unhurriedly to stain his oversized shirt.
Harry winces.
Later tonight during dinner he will be punished for being careless. Another night without food. It does not matter, he will try to fill his stomach with water, or pick at the meager rations he has buried under his thin mattress for emergencies. He debates whether to eat the bruised apple that he salvaged from the bin, or to finish the stale bread that he saved from breakfast. It is one hour to sunset. Harry cheers up visibly as he counts down; he will be able to take a rest soon.
Boy! Come in now! It's dinnertime! Aunt Petunia is shrieking at him in to go make dinner; she is discrete in such matters, looking around at the neighbours before deciding to hiss at him to hurry up because Duddikins is hungry. She is too busy to cook, she says, before turning back towards the flickering glow of the telly; listening as the presenter vociferously gossips about Brad Pitt and frivolous whatnot that has happened today.
They do not notice the blood stains on the collar of his shirt tonight, and Harry is allowed to eat the leftovers from their plates. He has to say please and thank you when Aunt Petunia scrapes the odds and ends from their plates onto his cupped hands, making sure not to drop a single scrap. When they move to the living room and leave him to clean up, Harry decides to save half a potato for tomorrow, hiding it in his baggy, faded pants. Just in case. He finishes washing the dishes, and smiles beatifically as the last light of day streams through the kitchen door. He has finally finished his chores for the day.
Harry makes his way back to the cupboard and closes the door. He does not turn on the lights, choosing to sit still quietly in the darkness. And since it's the last day of July tomorrow, we'll be having a special for you on telly today…. he hears Dudley's excited scream from the living room ordering Aunt Petunia to bring me chocolate right now!
Harry beams as it finally sinks in. It will be his sixth birthday tomorrow.
-fin-
(for now)
short ficlet that i wrote during my exam because i finished early. :D R&R pls! just criticize. need to know if my writing really sucks. :P only part of what's in my mind. hope to add more as either a second chapter or a whole piece.
A/n: have edited the dates because they were screwed up. So it's should be all correct now. (I hope)
