Chapter Six: Escaping Hell Part I

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

I'm here today, just like every yesterday.
Heavy heat, and the sheets stick to my skin.
Can't get away from nothingness.
-Fishbowl by AFI

Harry could just barely breathe. The air was so thick and humid that it was difficult in inhale into his lungs. His naked chest was moving slowly and deeply, stretching the cuts and bruises and making him wince. How could anything hurt so much when inside he felt so numb?

Reddish light poured into his window and he rubbed his swollen eyes. It was early, which was good. Maybe he could sneak some food from the kitchen before his aunt and uncle woke up. Not that Harry was particularly hungry, mind you, but he didn't think it was dignified to starve to death because of his muggle relatives. The wizarding world would ridicule his death; his friends would be ashamed they ever knew him.

No, if Harry Potter was going to die, it would be by Voldemort or himself. Not his abusive relatives. Definitely not.

Harry crawled out of his bed, the damp sheets sticking to his sweaty skin. On some places on his bed, one could see small stains of a red substance which looked suspiciously like blood. Which it probably was.

The raven haired boy pulled on the shirt he wore the day before and crept downstairs, cringing overtime a floorboard creaked. Maybe, hopefully, he would be able to get enough food to keep him alive for a few more days. Not that long. Just long enough until the Order came to get him. Please God, let them come soon, he begged in his mind.

Every step he took was a reminder of what has happened to him in the past two weeks. The bruised skin and hurt bones on his feet ached. All Harry wanted to do was lie down and sleep until this nightmare was over. Today was his sixteenth birthday, and Uncle Vernon had promised him a special birthday beating just for him.

Harry shivered at the thought.

Then he glanced warily into the kitchen and his eyes widened in surprise. Hedwig and Pig sat waiting on the table; two fat parcels tied to their legs. Hedwig was giving Pig the usual look of disgust as the tiny bird struggled to carry the package to Harry.

A loud grunt came from upstairs. Quickly and quietly, Harry untied the two presents and ushered the birds back out of the kitchen window. Hedwig looked insulted and took flight almost at once. Harry felt a surge of guilt for treating his pet so badly, but Vernon would treat her much worse if he saw her with gifts for his nephew. The only reason Hedwig was allowed in the house at all was because Harry needed to write a letter every few days to the Order.

Uncle Vernon made sure he did. And made sure he didn't write anything that could alert the wizards to what was going on. That Harry was getting "tamed" and "treated justly".

If I'm getting treated justly, Harry thought, then why can't I write about what's really going on?

Pig whizzed excitedly around his head once before taking flight behind Hedwig. Harry sighed. The company was nice while it lasted. He remembered his presents and spun around to open them. There was a card from Hermione, which he promptly tucked into his pajama bottoms to read later. His eyes wandered over her gift. It was a book.

Harry groaned.

The title was "Wizarding Hobbies For The Young, Bored, And Restless" The book was rather large and thick, with a picture on the cover of a young boy drawing what seemed to be a cauldron bubbling.

Oh, Harry thought, trying to keep his temper in check. So Hermione thinks I have nothing better to do than to sit around and do useless crap all day? Does she think I need something to distract me from my "saving people thing"?

Harry threw the book onto the kitchen counter with a loud thud. Then he took Ron's card, shoved it into his pajama pants as well, and ripped open the wrapping paper. His present was better. It was just what Harry needed about now. A six pack of butterbeer with a box of Honeydukes chocolates. The only way Pig could have carried this is if one of the Order put a feather-light charm on it, Harry mused as his temper settled back down.

He hoisted up his gifts and realized that the butterbeer was still cold.

So they put a chilling charm on it, too, Harry thought, feeling quite delighted.

Quietly as possible, Harry rushed into his room and hid Ron's presents under the loose floorboard. Hermione's hobby book was too big and Harry panicked a bit before shoving it under his mattress.

Then he waited.

After about an hour he heard creaking floorboards straining under a heavy weight before Uncle Vernon appeared at Harry's door. His smile was bone chilling and eerie.

"Go make breakfast, boy. We have quite a day ahead of us! Not everyday my nephew turns sixteen, is it?" Vernon chuckled quietly and disappeared down the stairs.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing the beating of a lifetime was waiting for him when Dudley and Aunt Petunia left the house. Of course, they suspected what was going on. But Dudley just smirked at Harry when he saw a new cut or bruise and Petunia pretended not to notice. Harry tenderly set his feet on the ground and walked as slowly as he dared to the kitchen.

Thick slices of bacon sizzled in the frying pan. As Harry watched them, his mouth watered. He hadn't had anything freshly cooked in so long... Everything he ate was cold or disgustingly old. Sometimes he just skipped meals altogether. With so much under use, his stomach was shrinking and he could skip more and more meals every day.

But that didn't mean he did not miss delicious cooked food with a frosty cold drink.

After frying the bacon and eggs and toasting some bread, Uncle Vernon motioned that he go to the hall. "Boy," he said gruffly. "Write a letter about what a happy birthday you're having. And don't try any funny stuff," he added with an evil look. Vernon unlocked the cupboard under the stairs and pushed him inside.

Parchment and quill in hand, Harry retreated to the kitchen so his uncle could supervise his letter. He wrote the same as usual with individual tweaks here and there:

Hello Everyone,

My summer is still going great! The Dursley's are unbelievably nice when you get to know them. They are actually throwing me a birthday party today! I have a lot of new friends here, so it'll probably be really huge.

Harry's hand shook with smothered emotion as he wrote these lines. Tears filled his green eyes as he wished fervently that any of it could be true. Uncle Vernonstill watched him, so he continued:

Aunt Petunia doesn't mind at all, in fact, she encourages it! I'm going to miss it when I come back to Hogwarts... Tell Hermione and Ron I'm sorry for not writing them, I've been really busy lately. Anyway, we'll see each other every day at school!

Harry

Harry could barely believe all the lies he could fit into one letter.

Uncle Vernon was pleased as he read it, so pleased it made a surge of anger jolt up Harry's spine. His mouth twisted in an effort not to make any nasty, sarcastic comments. Aunt Petunia walked briskly into the kitchen, Dudley waddling in behind her, distracting Harry from his momentary rage.

"Get your bloody owl and send this," Vernon shot at him, thrusting the letter under his nose.

Harry took it and went through the back door into the yard. Under the shade of a maple tree was an old, worn shed. Harry walked over to it and yanked open the door, earning several splinters in his hand. Hedwig was in her cage, near the back and in as much shade as possible. At the creaking of the old wooden door, she opened one of her large amber eyes and hooted in loathing. Harry sighed. He neglected Hedwig awfully these past few weeks and now even she hated him.

"Please, girl," he begged, holding out the letter with his shaking hand. "I really need you to bring this to the Order."

Hedwig turned up her beak up in disgust and refused to have anything to do with him..

"Hedwig, PLEASE! I don't have a choice! You know what my relatives are like! You understand me! You're the only one who understands me..." Tears stung his eyes as he looked for any sign other than anger in his pet.

After a few seconds, she hesitantly stuck out her leg; a bit of sadness reflected in her eyes. Harry attached the letter and gave his thanks over and over again until Hedwig took off. Then he turned to face his own private Hell.

"Petunia, why don't you and Dudley go shopping for that new television set he wants? I dare say he deserves it!" Uncle Vernon said to his wife with a quick glance toward Harry.

Petunia looked at Harry for a moment as well, and he thought he saw a flicker of worry in them before she nodded and forced a smile. Dudley's eyes grew as round as galleons. He jumped up and whooped loudly, punching the air with his fist. If he ever wanted to leave the house, it was for things like this.

"Mom," he asked excitedly, "can we go now?"

Petunia looked between Harry and Vernon and nodded again. She got up as Dudley jumped up and raced toward the car.

Harry gulped as he heard the Dursley's car speed away. Uncle Vernon ordered him to his bedroom and that is where Harry sat.

Waiting.

Until finally- "Hey boy, I've got a surprise for you."

Vernon grabbed Harry by the hair and brought him up to his face, "Now this will teach you to how to behavelike a proper sixteen year old," he growled, pulling off Harry's shirt and shoving him face first into his bed.

He commanded Harry to lay still and not make a sound. After what seemed like an eternity, there was a loud crack in the air followed by an intense pain in his back.

"One," his uncle's voice said.

He was whipping him! The sick bastard was WHIPPING him! Harry's bitten nails dug into the bed as Vernon delivered another.

"Two."

A soft gasp of pain erupted from his mouth. It hurt so badly!

"Three."

Tears filled Harry's eyes for the third time that day, followed with a sharp cry.

"Four!"

Vernon added more strength to his whipping and was rewarded with a scream of agony. Tears slid out from behind Harry's closed eyes. He didn't ask for it to stop because that would only make it worse. The whipping went on until sixteen, then Vernon paused and delivered a last one "for good luck." Then he left, closing the door and laughing loudly and he strolled down the stairs.

Harry just laid there kneeling on the floor with the bed supporting him from the waist up. He had stopped crying long ago, too weak to even sob properly. There was a burning pain in his back, like a very bad sunburn someone rubbed with salt. It hurt so badly that after attempting to get up several times, Harry gave up and forced himself to sleep in his uncomfortable position.

It was dark. Severus Snape stood in the shadows, watching number four Private Drive with intensity. The Order informed him that there were probably going to be festivities at the Dursley residence for Potter's birthday. He waited the entire afternoon for any little brats running about or any large parcels showing up in the mail. There was nothing. No music, no singing, no lights, no signs of any type of a muggle party on the whole street. Severus wanted to know what was going on.

No celebrations on Harry Potter's birthday? Yeah, and the Dark Lord will beg on his knees for forgiveness. Severus snorted. Itwas going to be along night.

Lost in his thoughts, Snape didn't notice the skinny figure with bright green eyes sneak out from the back of the house and down the sidewalk.

Harry knew Snape was outside, watching the house. A part of him wanted to run tothe Potionsmaster and beg for help, but the other part, the part that still had pride, would rather die. So, instead, he just snuck off and ran. To where? He didn't know. He had no extra clothes, no extra food, no money at all... all he was thinking about was that he had to leave before his uncle killed him.

It hurt so much to run with the near crippling pain in his back, so he was slowed down considerably and walked with a heavy limp. The park wasn't very far, only a few blocks, but with every step it seemed to shrink farther away...

"Hey, Potter! Where'd ya think you goin' at this time?" Piers Polkiss spoke so loudly, Harry feared that Snape would hear him.

"Shut up," he growled, not really thinking about it.

Piers was silent and Harry thought he had just walked away. How wrong he was. After another block of strained limping Piers staggered up beside him. Harry tried his best to ignore the rat-like boy, almost enjoying some form of company. Piers didn't seem to be plotting anything, at least not from his past experiences. The only thing he found suspicious were the smells. The other boy smelled like alcohol and cigarettes, a smell not many could connect with comfort.

Harry's suspicions proved true.

They passed a dark alley, and sweaty hands grabbed Harry by the arm and threw him straight into it. There were no other boys. Just Piers. Piers holding him down on the rough concrete ground, Piers forcing his mouth on Harry's, Piers' disgusting smelling tongue forcing itself into Harry's mouth so he wanted to gag. Why was this happening? Why was Piers doing this to him?

Some part of him, the hormone crazed teenager no doubt, liked the feeling of another body against his own. But his injured back rubbing against the ground and the realization that he was being kissed by a boy, a very mean and vile boy at that, soon stopped him from any type of pleasure. He wanted to leave. To leave and get Snape or Mrs. Figg, or even his uncle!

Something hard pressed into Harry's thigh. Piers moaned into his ear and slid his hands down, unbuckling his belt.

OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod, was Harry's only reaction. This couldn't be happening! It just wasn't possible! He was getting raped! He was getting raped by a guy! Piers was already pulling off his pants; Harry struggled and fought and even bit, but it was all in vain. The aches,
scratches, bruises, and other injuries added to the scraping of his back nearly made him pass out.

Still having some remainder of his infamous "Potter Pride," Harry made sure it wasn't easy to touch him in a such a repulsive way. He started to punch every bit of Piers he could find. He bit the tongue in his mouth and tasted blood. Finally, having enough, Piers began punching him back. It was a great surprise that the wiry boy could hit so hard and Harry eventually stopped and only wriggled under him furiously, hoping for an escape.

"Stop it! What are you doing? Get off of me! Get off of me, NOW!"

Piers laughed harshly and began tugging Harry's pants off. "Oh, c'mon! You know you want it, whore." He began pulling Harry's jeans and began to kiss him sloppily again.

Harry felt the other boy's hands groping his skinny frame and touching places no one dared touch before. Before he knew it, he was completely naked from the waist down, a worn shirt covering his stomach and chest. He knew what was coming, and he tried to stop it, but Piers wouldn't allow it.

"Happy birthday, Potter," he growled before moving inside of Harry roughly, moaning in pleasure. Harry let out a cry of agony. Tears stung his eyes and his hands scrambled on Piers' back as he attempted to cause any pain possible...

I'm somewhere else, Harry thought. I'm not here. I'm in my room,
asleep. I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here...

It hurt so badly, like sharp electric shocks were traveling up and down his spine. His breath was hitched and labored, the only thing he could think of was wishing it would stop...

After what seemed like an eternity, Piers exclaimed loudly into Harry's ear and laid limply on top of his sore, abused body. Harry shoved him off and quickly put his clothes back on. Piers didn't stir; it looked as if he had passed out. Harry felt weak and torn up inside, he felt as if it was best just to go back to his uncle's house than risk anything like that again.

He crept into the house cautiously, looking around for the cupboard under the stairs. Tears were streaming a continual river down his battered face. There was no way he could live like this anymore, it was just too inhuman! Harry fumbled with the lock on the door before taking out a bobby pin from his back pocket. Mimicking what Fred and George once taught him, the lock was able to spring open easily. Inside was his trunk. Harry knelt beside it, feeling the smooth surface as if it was consoling to his damaged soul.

A wand lay at the very bottom, under a silvery invisibility cloak. Beside it was an ancient piece of parchment and small fragments of glass. Harry's gaze avoided them. All he wanted was his wand, not another reason to cry like some kind of five-year-old.

Leave, he thought to himself bitterly, I've got to leave. There's nothing for me here. I can only kill and hurt people... Thoughts of Sirius' face, mournful and sad, were blaring in his skull. I will not cry, he commanded himself, crying is for the weak, the worthless, the-


Images of Hermione floated into his head, she had tears flowing down her face and her lip was trembling slightly. Scratch that, he reprimanded himself, crying is for girls and weak boys. Yeah.

Harry was starting to feel panicked. He knew he had to leave. If he didn't there would be a good chance that he would not get through the summer alive. The thought struck him. Dead. Killed by his awful relatives. Oh God, I can't bear this, he thought earnestly. His head thumped and it was almost painful to breathe.

Almost without thinking about it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. It was a simple necklace, really. The thing Harry was really interested was the ring. Attached to the long elegantly woven chain was a beautiful ring. It was a silver serpent with emerald eyes and the tip of its tail was being bitten by its mouth. Harry thought the gesture was solemn and kind of ironic.

The mascot of Slytherin doing itself in. The thought seemed very farfetched, but very true at the same time. Wary as he was of snakes now, Harry used to be quite fond of them as a child. How he got the thing was a rather odd story... In fact, Dudley was the one who originally found it...

After getting into the car with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, Harry sat a in a calm happy state. What Remus, Tonks, and Moody had just done for him was great! Surely his summer would improve by multitudes!

Harry was shaken by his thoughts by Dudley exclaiming loudly. "What's this, dad?" he asked his father, holding up a silver necklace with a ring attached to the end.

Uncle Vernon looked at it and grunted. "Don't know. But it's an ugly thing, isn't it? Better throw it in the rubbish bin when we get home.

Dudley started fiddling with it, completely ignoring his father's response. He was trying to fit it on his fat finger unsuccessfully. Finally he gave up and threw it back under the seat angrily. "Ugly bloody thing... probably fake and cheap anyway..." Aunt Petunia nodded and started talking (endlessly it seemed) about cheap people who had no taste. Like their neighbor Mrs. what's-her-name. Harry groaned and steeled himself for one of his aunt's long-winded rants.

When they arrived home (Petunia was now talking about those nosey people who always had their noses over their fence ("...as if they didn't have their own lives!"), Uncle Vernon asked Dudley to get the fake necklace from under the seat so he can throw it away. "I won't have disgraceful little fancies in my car. A snake eating itself, imagine what people will say!"

Harry didn't know what people his uncle was speaking of, or if they would actually care or not, but didn't ask. It was better to just stay on their good side for now.

Dudley made no effort to find the necklace, instead he just said, "Make Harry do it!"

They made Harry look under the dusty seats of their car for something none of them wanted. What an extraordinary way to start off the summer, Harry thought angrily.

But when the time came to drop the ring into the garbage can, he couldn't do it. Instead, Harry just hid it in his pocket.

Harry pushed his thoughts away hastily. He needed to leave. To get away from his memories. A strange buzzing was going through his mind... like the day's happenings couldn't be processed.

I feel so disgusting. Harry shuddered, not wanting to touch himself. How could I let him, a muggle, do that to me? How could anyone expect me to have any power against Voldemort after that? I can't even properly defend myself...

A creak startled Harry. Thinking of Uncle Vernon, Harryheard himself start sputtering explanations. "Uncle Vernon, I swear, I swear I wasn't doing anything wrong! I was just... er, I was just... I was just doing... something," he ended lamely.

The dark figure raised its arm and Harry quickly ducked his head, knowing it was better to just grit his teeth and take it. The hand stopped short from clutching his collar. Nowhere near his head.

"Really, Potter. I know you think me cruel but I would never strike a student," a familiar voice said.

Harry's strength left him and he fell to his knees. "Pro-professor Snape?" he asked weakly.

"Quite," Snape replied, seeming both angry and curious.

A tense silence filled the space between them.

"What did I tell you about running off, Potter? Or does nothing penetrate that thick skull of yours?" His words weren't quite as harsh as usual, but Harry didn't notice this.

Harry's fear quickly turned into rage, as it usually did around Snape.

"I didn't know how stupid you were until this very moment-"

"I know! Just...go away! JUST GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE!" he yelled, trying to stand.

Snape grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up, Harry yanked it away. Glaring furiously as he possibly could with so much pain in him, Harry shoved his professor away from him.

"Don't touch me. Don't youe ver touch me again! Don't even bother looking atme! Forget my fucking eyesight, okay? I'll just get the Dursley's to buy me a new pair of glasses!

"Excuse me, Potter? I shall touch you whenever I want-"

"THE FUCK YOU WILL! NOBODY TOUCHES ME, GOT IT?
NOBODY! AND IF YOU-"

"What's all that racket? POTTER! If that's you, you're going to get another-"

Harry tried desperately to drown out his uncle's voice. "Professor, go."

Snape didn't budge.

"Please! Go! I'm sorry! Go!" Harry begged on his knees. If Snape found out- Oh Merlin, the humiliation!

Snape sneered down at him. "Stand up, Potter. Merlin, where is your dignity? I think I should have a talk with your relatives."

"Oh God... please don't, Professor. Please. They'll kill me!"

"How unfortunate," Snape said. He still didn't budge.

Harry ran up the stairs to head off his uncle. He was almost at the top step when a heavy hand struck him across his face and he went crashing down to the bottom. His head banged against the wall. Through bleary eyes Harry saw his uncle retreat to his bedroom. Everything hurt.

"Please, please, don't tell anyone," he begged Snape. It was worthless to lie anymore, especially with that display.

"I don't think I can promise you that, Potter," Snape's voice was cold, but was that... shock in his voice?

Harry slumped, feeling more ashamed than ever. At least Snape didn't know about... before.

"But I can promise to tell the Headmaster only after you are ready."

That sounded so calm, so reasonable. It sounded nothing like Snape.

"Why are you doing this for me?" Harry asked groggily.

Professor Snape didn't answer. Instead he said, "Go pack your things. You shall be picked up tomorrow. I will tell no lies to the Headmaster, but I will also let your privacy be your own." The way he said that last part, about privacy, seemed more pronounced than the others and Harry felt guilty.

Before he could apologize for last year's antics, however, Snape was gone in a swish of a cloak.

A/N 6/30/05: My Lord... So many spacing errors O.o I'm happy that my new BETA asked me to fix it... Thank you, Jadzia!