Harry Potter had, at a young age, found out the world was not fair and for him, it was when he was five years old and able to understand the utter lack of attention his "family" gave him. While as a stark contrast, his cousin Dudley was showered with affection from his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who routinely and profusely told Dudley that they loved and cherished him singing his praises as the best thing to ever happen to them.

At first, Harry consoled himself by saying it was just because Dudley was their actual son, and it was perfectly normal for them to have a little favoritism towards Dudley and spend less time with him.

But over the years he slowly realized he was barely better than an unwanted guest in a house that could care less if he was around or not. As he grew older and required less and less attention to ensure he wouldn't die from a shear lack of knowledge on how to take care of himself, his Aunt Petunia routinely showed him, with a not-so-subtle air of distaste, how to cook, clean, and do other tasks for himself.

Or so it seemed.

It turned out that after Harry had gotten an acceptable grasp on all these things after he turned eight years old, he was made the de facto servant/slave of the family to cook, clean, and perform most other menial tasks they required him to do around the house. This was the start of his most awful times with the Dursleys.

October 22, 1988

"Potter!" A heavy beat of silence is heard throughout the whole of number 4 Privet Drive Little Winging Surrey, and this seems to just enrage the source of the shout, "Potter wake up!"

Harry shot awake as he had just now registered the second shout in his tiny room, whose only source of light was the slight cracks in between the closed viewing slot nearly at the top of the door to the room if you could even call a cupboard a room.

The first thing he did was check the time and he froze immediately, the time on his small grey alarm clock read 8:00 a.m. This made Harry gulp as he was supposed to be awake at 7:00 a.m. to prepare breakfast for his uncle, who would need to be at work in 30 minutes. So, leaping from his sorry excuse for a bed, he scrambled out of his cupboard beneath the stairs and turned to the right so he could enter the kitchen.

But, where he expected Uncle Vernon to be, stood Aunt Petunia with an annoyed expression. Aunt Petunia was a relatively small thin woman but stood several feet menacingly over Harry himself at the age of eight.

As much as Harry hated to admit it his aunt was a beautiful woman with a slightly angular face which added to his fear of her now. Her blonde hair fell in slight curls resting around her shoulders and on top of a thin petunia flower patterned dress, her normally kind face that Harry had only ever seen her direct at Dudley and Uncle Vernon was nowhere to be seen. As she gazed at Harry's small form her hands wrung a washcloth in front of her as if showing what she wished to do to Harry's neck. No doubt for his shirking of duties to cook for his uncle that morning.

"Do you know why I could possibly be this angry with you," Petunia asked Harry in a voice that clearly says it was a rhetorical question that didn't need an actual answer.

Harry averted his gaze to his bare feet to show that he knew what he had failed to do and show that he understood that his aunt's question didn't require a response. This proved to be a bad choice as he heard the faint steps of house slippers on the linoleum of the kitchen heading in his direction. Hearing his aunt's approach to his now slightly shaking small form caused him to screw his eyes shut.

When he didn't feel any immediate sign that she'd reached him he slowly opened his eyes to see what was happening. The last thing he expected to see was his aunt looking directly into his eyes barely a foot away with her knees bent to bring her eye level with the eight-year-old. What truly puzzled the emerald-eyed youth was the fact that his aunt's previously easily seen anger and annoyance were nowhere to be seen on her face. As she gazed into Harry's eyes with her pale blue ones a small beat of silence passed between the two as they each searched for the eyes of the other.

But suddenly, as if she had found exactly what she expected, Petunias' eyes lit with rage, and she lashed out with a backhand to Harry's face. A cry of pain erupted from his mouth following him to the ground where he was sprawled out in fear and pain. Clutching his bright red cheek and holding back tears. If he hadn't been ready for the initial strike, he was not prepared for the stomp that followed on the side of his ribs that, while hard and drove the air from him, thankfully didn't break them.

Wheezing and clutching his side with one arm, trying to crawl back into the hall towards his cupboard with the other. Harry frantically attempted to breathe but found it exceedingly difficult after the savage stomp to his side delivered by his "family member".

"Oh, get up you sniveling excuse for a boy," Petunia spat in his direction annoyed with Harry's pitiful display of resilience. After another slow and deliberate second of attempted breathing, Harry slowly but shakily rose to his feet in front of his aunt so as not to anger her further and cause more harm to befall him.

Nodding in approval his aunt looked him over with an unidentifiable gleam in her eyes," Your uncle told me specifically to punish you in his stead because he will be away for a business trip for at least two days. He wants me to make sure you don't make the same mistake again, so Dudley is staying at one of his friend's houses today and while we don't care how Dudley normally sees us punish you, I found it necessary for him not to need to see this."

This explanation made Harry's face go deathly pale at those implications. Harry had been performing his duties around the house for three months now since his birthday at the end of July. He had already experienced a broken arm in his first month after accidentally breaking one of Dudley's toys. Uncle Vernon had been the one to break his arm with a well-placed stomp, and that had been done right in front of Dudley who laughed when it happened. Harry could still hear the sickening snap sound his arm had made that day.

Two days later while waking up at the usual time to make breakfast, Harry hadn't noticed until halfway through making breakfast that to his utter astonishment, his arm had healed as if by magic. While he stared in wonder at it that morning it seemed to only enrage his uncle who had entered the room alone and proceeded to whip Harry on his bare back with his belt, causing bloody gashes and welts to form on his back. After five minutes of the torture, Harry had fallen to his bare chest on the kitchen floor with small rivulets of blood staining the linoleum of the kitchen.

Of course, his uncle had made him clean the floors with bleach in the kitchen too," clean away the filth," as his uncle called it. Harry was forced to clean with no shirt to protect his cuts and welts from the bleach as Dudley and his aunt entered the room looking him over impassively.

If neither his aunt nor uncle cared that Dudley had seen all of that and more, then Harry shuddered in absolute fear at what his aunt could possibly have in store for him that could even come close to his past few agonizing punishments.

Smiling, not at all reassuringly, Petunia grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into the hall causing Harry to relax his shoulders. An almost welcome smile at the assumed thought that his punishment would involve just being locked in his cupboard made Harry hurry forward. That relief quickly expedited itself from his body as he was slowly and painstakingly dragged past his cupboard, the sitting room, and then up the stairs behind his aunt who hadn't relented on her tight grip on his wrist.

Harry's dread built and was mixed with confusion as he was pulled past Dudley's room to the direct right of the stairs, and into the Dursley's master bedroom, making Harry so unbelievably confused at what was going to happen as his aunt closed the door. Harry was about to voice his concerned question again about his punishment when his aunt picked him up. This surprised Harry to no end because he had never been touched by any of the Dursleys except when he was hit or dragged by one of them. His aunt's fast yet gentle movement in picking him up shocked him greatly. Until she looked Harry directly in the eyes and crushed her horrifically soft lips against his in a not-at-all familial way. She tilted her head sideways to get a better angle at Harry's lips to deepen the kiss.

While she did this Harry squirmed under her pressing presence and felt discomfort in his lower body not knowing what was happening. His young mind could not fully comprehend the coming horrific implications of what was happening.

He was suddenly brought out of his frantic and scared thought as he felt something prodding the entrance to his mouth and with a gasp, he felt his aunt's tongue enter his mouth, roaming and tasting Harry's own, further intensifying his lower discomfort and his own fear that he couldn't control what was happening.

After another agonizing few seconds of the forced kiss, Petunia pulled away from Harry causing him to gasp for air which the stomp to his side had made difficult to get. His heaving lungs were not helped at all by the oxygen-depriving kiss that was forced on him. As his eyes refocused from the black spots that had begun invading his vision, he saw his aunt's slightly dreamy and far-off look while gazing at his face for some reason.

He didn't have to wonder why she looked like that for long," you look just like your father," she said with an equally dreamy voice. Hope slowly rose in his chest for a shred of pity that she may have for him because of his paternal similarities, until the faraway look was wiped from her face as she locked eyes with him, "except for your disgusting eyes," she spat venomously," they look just like your bitch mothers!"

And just like that, any pity he may have received was thrown away just as he was thrown onto the bed in his aunt and uncle's room with Petunia following directly after. She pinned his arms to the bed above his head and unceremoniously sat directly on his crotch grinding his growing discomfort down there against her privates. This caused him to involuntarily cry out with a moan. Freezing above him, Petunia's shocked look slowly grew into a wolfish grin that held no actual mirth.

"Do you like it when I do this Harry," she asked as she ground her hips into Harry's crotch, transferring more friction to his most private area, and eliciting even more moans that he attempted, and failed, to muffle without the use of his hands. Harry wanted to burst out crying with fear at the sensations he had never experienced. Harry thought no matter how strangely good they may feel at the time he didn't want to feel them at all in this moment or ever again with his aunt.

No. With this MONSTER!

As if reading his expression, the monster grinned baring its fangs, glowering down at him," Don't worry it will feel even better in a few minutes Harry."

She leaned down yet again all the while grinding her crotch against his, covered only by her thin dress, panties, and Harry's own sleep pants, all the while bringing her lips back to his, unleashing a new meaning to the horror of the situation as he started to somehow realize the helplessness that was pervading his senses along with the unwanted pleasure that was caused by her midsections ministrations and the tongue entering his mouth. As if reluctantly, she pulled away from Harry both of them breathing heavily and panting inches away from one another as he gazed into his aunt's eyes, he could tell she clearly saw his fear as she almost imperceptibly flinched as his familiar face and eyes screamed for mercy, but the hesitation was quickly thrown to the wind as she yet again crashed her lips to his.

Harry didn't think this situation could get any worse, that is until he froze in place when his aunt's hands roamed down to his light grey sleep pants tugging at the waistband to pull them down exposing his boxer briefs to his aunt's groping hand, which Harry tried to slap away.

Harry's frantic struggling caused her to double down on her course of action as she slipped her dress over her head and threw It to the floor by the bed exposing her slim braless frame to Harry's frantically moving eyes wanting nothing more than to not be where he was or even wishing for not the first time he had died with his parents because surely it had to be better than this hell he was forced to endure.

Harry slowly awoke back in the tiny and comforting atmosphere of the cupboard where he spent most of his life inside of, He was naked and slightly damp with sweat and something else on his private parts. The events of what had happened played back in his head as he slipped on "fresh" clothes wishing with everything he had that he could just wave his hand and make everything go away and just go back to the simple beatings and forced solitary of the room he was currently inside of. He sat numbly on the edge of his small bed just thinking about everything in his life and why he could possibly deserve everything that had happened to him over the years.

His parents dying when he was just a baby.

His barely tolerated existence at the hands of the Dursleys, and then when he was acknowledged by them it was as nothing more than a glorified slave.

Being beaten if he spoke out of turn, having to work until every inch of his body ached then beaten again if he was seen even barely slowing down, and now his auntif he could even call that monster that had...

Just the thought of what happened finally caused Harry to break down in a fit of tears, bringing him even lower than he ever thought he could possibly fall in his already rock bottom life and he just sank to the floor collapsing in on himself.

"Why do I deserve this?"

An imperceptible voice cackled madly from the spot just behind Harry's scar. And although it was unnoticed by him, he still shivered twice as much after it began.