It Takes A Minute

♡ It Takes A Minute || 1 || ♡

"Boy! Uncle Vernon raged, his fae taking on a deep purple hue.

"How many times" whip "am I going to have to tell you-" whip "that you are never" whip "going to amount to bloody" whip "ANYTHING!"

With one final whipping, Uncle Vernon left Harry on the ground, his bloodied shirt tattered to shreds, lying in the spilled contents of the boiling pot.

"Now look at what you've bloody done. Bloody ruined another shirt is what you've done! I spend hard earned money on clothes for you, and you've bloody unappreciative as hell!" Vernon spat flecks of spittle flying all over Harry.

"I'd say that deserves another ten lashes," Vernon smirked, clutching his belt tighter in his hands. "What do you say Petunia?"

The horse faced woman sat at the table. Her face was white, and she was biting her lip as she nodded, watching her husband beat her sister's son until his backside was completely raw.

She had just been sitting there, peering out the window to watch the new neighbor across the street move in, when Harry's knees had given out and he had dropped the boiling pot of pasta and water that he had been transferring to the sink to drain.

Now Harry is on the ground, watching his arms and legs turn a bright red from the scolding water that he was kneeling in.As blood swirled with the water around him, now flowing steadily from the lashes on his back.

The tenth clang of the belt buckle signified the end of the lashings. Harry tried not to let out a sigh of relief. Suddenly, Vernon's beefy hand grabbed him by the hair and yanked him to his feet. From behind him Petunia gasped.

"Vernon. I was going to send him to the market tomorrow morning to get fresh fruit for the potluck. We can't send him looking like that!"

Harry's chest constricted in anticipation and disappointment. He was slightly upset that his aunt's reaction was only because of selfish reasons, not out of concern for her nephew's well being.

"Mop this up, boy! Don't you even dare even think about eating any of this!" He snarled, turning to Petunia. "Dudley! Where would you like to go for supper!"

Thundering footsteps sounded from the hallway as Dudley waddled into the kitchen to see what his father wanted.

"I thought we were having pasta!" Dudley exclaimed. His eyes widened as soon as he saw the mess in the kitchen. Looking between Harry's bloodied back and blistering burned skin, and the spilled pasta and water.

"The boy bloody messed up! We are going out now." Vernon announced. "Where would you like to go?"

"I want to go to Angelo's!" Dudley cried, jumping up and down excitedly, making the floor shake. Harry rolled his eyes at his cousin, and scrunched up his nose just a little.

"Dudders, Angelo's is awfully expensive..." Petunia said softly from her place in the corner.

"I want Angelo's!" Dudley whined, stomping his large foot in protest. "I want Angelo's! I want it, I want it, I want it!"

"Angelo's it is!" Vernon announced proudly, slapping his son's back proudly. "Petunia he is a growing boy. If he needs Angelo's for supper, then he will get Angelo's for supper!"

"Alright. Let me run upstairs and grab my purse, and a new shirt for the boy." She responded. "I'll meet you in the car."

Vernon scoffed as he looked at Harry who was silently mopping up the mess. He had already disposed of all the food he dropped, and was now almost done soaking up all the hot water.

"You don't deserve the other shirt but I suppose if you're going to the market tomorrow to get groceries, you will need a new one." Vernon growled at Harry. "And if you touch any of the food in this house, I will personally make sure you wish you'd never been born."

Harry closed his eyes and bowed his head. Life with the Dursley's was a living hell, but what other choice did he have? Ron hasn't been answering his owls, and neither was Hermione.

The door slammed made Harry flinch, snapping him back into reality. Petunia was walking back downstairs with a 3XL maroon shirt in her fist.

"Clean yourself up first!" She cried, slipping on her heels and leaving the house.

As soon as the door behind his aunt closed Harry let himself crumple to the floor, the mop falling with a clatter. This was by far not the worst beating Uncle Vernon had given him in the last month.

He hadn't meant to drop the pot, it was just that he had felt so lightheaded, as if his head was made of cotton, and when he turned around his legs just gave out beneath him.The pasta smelled amazing if he said so himself, and even though he wouldn't have been allowed to eat any of it, he would have loved to watch Dudley scarf it down like it was nothing. A smile on his piggy face the entire time, moaning every so often to run it in Harry's face.

Later

The Dursley's arrived home and Harry dashed to his cabinet, closing the door behind him right as he heard the front door open.

Relaxing, Harry sat down on his blanket on the floor and picked up one of the books that were balanced on top of his trunk.

After a chapter, Harry's eyes grew heavy. His mind was screaming at him not to fall asleep, that there was danger just around the corner, literally. But his aching body was telling him to give in.

Deciding to give him the drowsiness, Harry laid his head down on the single feather pillow that he had snagged out of the trash bin one day and had smuggled back into the house.

"I'm going to bed." He heard his Uncle say from down the hall. His heavy footsteps shook the food as he walked in Harry's direction.

Please walk past, please walk past, please walk past, Harry thought. He was too relieved to even sigh when he heard his uncle climbing the stairs above him.

After hearing his aunt, uncle and cousin all go upstairs, and get in bed, Harry was finally able to drift into a light dreamless slumber.