Hey peeps, posted a new chapter. I'd love some feedback as I'm not completely sure how I feel about it but I couldn't seem to write it any differently. Please R&R
Also feel free to catch me on my tumblr - erikablair
Harry hurried through the front door of the Dursley's, wanting to get to his room without being seen. He had refused Caleb's usual offer of hanging out after school, nervously saying he had a lot of work to do. Caleb frowned but said nothing, merely telling Harry to stay safe, making Harry reply with an anxious laugh that only deepened Caleb's frown. Harry hadn't seen the car outside, reassuring him that Vernon wasn't home yet. He'd been avoiding him, not wanting to know if Vernon remembered that night or what actions Vernon will do that Harry had never noticed before. He could hear his Aunt's puttering in the kitchen, humming an off-tune beat. She hadn't seen him coming in, too attuned to the loud thumps of her child and husband entering the house to notice Harry's almost silent steps.
Harry rushed upstairs to his room before dumping his bag, fervently ignoring the diary strewn haphazardly in the corner. After those words had appeared on the page, Harry had no problem admitting to himself that he was terrified; he'd thrown the diary into the corner of his room with the barest of hesitations, a diary shouldn't be able to write back. Sitting at his desk, Harry started on his homework, keeping an ear out to the loud thumping's that indicated his Uncle's arrival. Not too long after starting his first assignment, he heard his Uncle's car pull up outside the house. He looked through the window observing Vernon, trying to gauge his mood and what he would be in for if it was discovered, he was home.
His Uncle seemed to be in a pleasant mood, greeting Petunia happily and placing a smacking kiss on her that she responded happily to if her giggling was any indication.
"Oh Vernon, what's got you in such a good mood?" Petunia simpered.
"Well, do you remember the dinner party we had with the Johnson's a couple of weeks ago?" At Petunia's nod, Vernon continued, "Well, he was so pleased with the dinner party that he has extended his contract with Grunning's and wants to double the next order," Vernon finished smugly.
"That's wonderful, Vernon," Petunia explained, "I was already planning on making a special dinner due to Dudder's recent wrestling victory, but now- "
"Nonsense, my dear," Vernon interrupted, "With this deal, Peterson's given me an early bonus, and I plan on treating the family to dinner at The Clock Room."
"The Clock Room?" Petunia gasped, "But Vernon, however, did you get us a table there? That place is usually booked out months in advance!"
"I have my ways, dearest heart. Now once Dudley gets back from Smelting's, we'll get him dressed up, and we can go."
"That sounds wonderful; let me start getting ready."
"Dear," Vernon called; Petunia stopped on the third step turning towards her husband questioningly, "is the boy home yet?"
Petunia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion; why was Vernon asking about him?
"I'm not sure, Vernon," Petunia replied, "would you like me to check?"
"No, you go get ready; I'll go take a look," Vernon responded.
Petunia gave Vernon a strained smile before continuing her way up the stairs, not sure what to think of her husband's behaviour.
Harry tensed as he heard his Uncle's thundering steps towards his room, his breathing started to accelerate, and he could feel himself break into a sweat. He dug his nails into his hands, hoping the pain would ground him back into the moment. Harry's already pounding heartbeat doubled in pace at the sound of the door creaking open. He forced himself to continue to take slow breaths through his nose, ignoring the sensation that he wasn't getting enough oxygen, that he was suffocating.
"I'm glad to see you're back at a reasonable time, Harry."
Harry went taut at Vernon's use of his name; he never called him by his name. Vernon approached Harry slowly, a cruel glint in his eye and a mocking smile gracing his lips. Harry flinched as Vernon stepped closer towards him, causing Vernon's smirk to widen.
Vernon placed his hands on either side of Harry on the desk behind him, effectively caging him in the desk chair and preventing any chance of escape.
"Tonight's a cause for celebration Harry," Vernon purred.
Harry gulped at the implications.
"I know why you've been avoiding me these past few days, Harry. Didn't think I'd remember our little talk?" Vernon continued in a saccharinely sweet voice. "I'm glad to see you've taken my advice on coming home at a reasonable time. Maybe you would like to join your family for the celebration?" Vernon asked.
Harry knew it wasn't a suggestion, so much as a command, but he wasn't sure how to respond appropriately. The Dursley's never wanted him to attend family dinners at home, let alone celebratory ones. But in light of the new dynamic between him and Vernon, he wasn't sure he could afford to say no, but he also didn't want to know the consequences of saying yes.
"I-I don't want to spoil your evening Uncle Vernon," Harry stuttered, "I'm sure I would ruin it. I don't even have anything appropriate to wear to somewhere like The Clock Room," Harry finished.
"Nonsense, Harry," Vernon rebuked, "I've invited you, and you wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?" Vernon threatened, punctuating the consequences by placing his hand high on Harry's thigh, clutching it hard enough to leave bruises.
"No, Uncle Vernon," Harry quickly answered, breathing slightly in relief as the pressure lessened, "but I still don't have anything to wear."
Vernon shook his head slightly, "Don't worry about that Harry, I've already had something prepared for you. If you check your wardrobe, you'll find your new suit; I'm hoping to have many dinners like tonight, and I'd want you to be presentable," Vernon finished with a leer.
Vernon's thumb had slowly edged up Harry's thigh and was lightly stroking circles on his groin; Vernon leaned his face slowly towards Harry, and Harry shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see this man's face so close to his own. Vernon bypassed Harry's lips, placing his own at the shell of Harry's ear causing him to shudder in revulsion.
"I want you ready and downstairs in an hour, or you won't like the consequences," Vernon warned.
He gave a sharp bite to Harry's ear before leaving the room without a backwards glance. Harry was still frozen in the chair and slowly lifted his hand towards his ear only to hiss slightly at the pain. He could feel the marks, but thankfully they weren't hard enough to puncture the delicate skin; he grimaced at the slight wetness he felt there.
Harry could feel his chest constricting the air inside it. He felt his nerves jumping and exposed, raw from the knowledge that Vernon knew that he knew – and he didn't care. Vernon knew that he was trapped, he couldn't tell anyone about his Uncle or his Uncle's inclinations, and he was taking full advantage of the situation, exercising his power over Harry and his forced silence. It's not like anyone would believe him anyway.
Harry forced his thoughts off this dark path; he would strategise later; for now, he needed to survive the night. He could feel his panic attack tapering off at this sobering thought; he would find a way to survive this just like he had his whole life. He wouldn't let Vernon win.
