We Met In Detention ✓

Twenty-Five | Old Habits

die hard

let's pretend that Dudley isn't the annoying, kinda ugly character we saw in the movies.

~Harry's POV

He's back. 

Ha, funny how I said that about two demon-like creatures whose names both start with V.

Except this time, the entire world didn't turn against me for even suggesting the mysterious V-named person was back.

Laugh.

"We'll catch up later. Love you." I smile at the nicer Dursleys and run out of their room, into mine. God forbid I actually have a healthy relationship with the other two people in this house.

A loud thud interrupts the daunting silence; I presume that's his bag. Heavy footsteps trudge up the stairs getting louder as they make my way towards my room.

Allah, Buddha, Jesus or Merlin, come get me or protect me in this dark moment.

"I come back to my house," my door slams open, "and there's no dinner on the table. The house hasn't been cleaned spotless."

Oh here we go. The brat speech.

"I give you a room in my house, feed you, clothe you and put a roof over you head with my hard-earned money and this is how you repay me?"

I see feet storm towards me but I don't look up. "You ungrateful brat, not even looking at me when I'm talking."

He yanks my face and forces my eyes to meet his, so rough compared to the way Draco did so gently mere hours before. 

His eyes say it all. He's livid.

And the fact that he's beet-red like an idiot.

"Not even going to reply? What respect to those freaky fools teach you at Bogsnorts?!"

I stifle a laugh when he says that. Bogsnorts. So close yet so far.

"Do you want me to hit you?!" He screams in my face.

Yes, because I'm a normal human being who enjoys being abused by their uncle.

Well actually, I figured if he was going to hit me regardless I might as well be able to piss him off before he does. 

I open my mouth to reply but I'm interrupted before I can even start.

"I've had enough of your intolerable attitude you ungrateful cow." He yells, ending his sentence with a hard slap to the face.

He must've had a lot of pent-up anger because he kept repeatedly punching my stomach for ages until his unfit ass got tired and stopped.

An unpleasant collage of purple-blue-yellow-black bruises were sure to be arriving in a few hours. 

I thought he'd be done by then. He wasn't.

He walked up to the door and did the opposite of what I hoped he'd do. He locked it.

I knew exactly what was to happen next. And I didn't plan on experiencing it.

As a reflex, my mind began to take me away from my room and into a safe place I created in my mind. 

In this safe space, I felt ethereal. Which makes sense because it wasn't really real. 

First, I'm outside the cupboard. It protected me from Vernon growing up. It was my home. But when I open the door, it's not the usual ratty-tatty bed and a few toys.

Somehow, and this is why I say its ethereal, I'm in the beach. Golden sand, turquoise water with perfect ripples of white from the waves, a stone-arch wrapped with a beautiful array of flowers towered above but somehow not blocking the sun.

In that very same beach, my parents are there. Far but not out of reach.

So are my friends. Ron and Hermione sitting down, arguing over petty things. Pansy, Blaise and Draco flying around on their brooms. Luna, Ginny and Neville talking about things that they find interesting, listening to each other with utmost respect.

Everyone is happy.

I'm happy.

And so, I enjoy the resort of refuge that my mind takes me to when I can't handle reality, wishing that this was my reality.

When I finally leave the cupboard and slowly readjust to the real world, my window is dark. If the sun has gone down, I must've missed dinner.

He only lets me miss making dinner if-

What happened was exactly what I predicted. 

Quietly, I get up and clean myself up with the hygiene/medical kit I have hidden in one of the floorboards. 

Then, I get my phone out from under my desk where I'd sloppily chucked it before Vernon came in. I didn't have time to properly hide it.

10:49pm

He was here around seven. I'd been out for three hours?

I hate what he does to me. He's my uncle yet I'm treated like a piece of dirt in his shoe.

Sighing, I decide to look through all my hiding spots in my room to see if Vernon's found anything he shouldn't. Whilst doing so, I come across something I had forgotten about.

My first ever sharpener blade.

Once upon a time it had been incredibly shiny and perfectly silver. Now, it was rusty and discoloured.

When I'd made the move from my cupboard under the stairs to the smaller room upstairs, I'd brought my few items with me. I hid this blade in case of emergency.

Naturally, I'd forgotten about it due to my hundreds of other ones.

Lately I'd been too lazy-depressed to pick up a blade and actually harm myself. I'd just used spells to inflict pain instead.

But the best way to hurt myself has always been the muggle way. 

Why not try it again? After all, it's right in my hands.

I watched the pretty silver run along my wrist. Beads of red appeared, slowly merging together to create a river of crimson. Such a pretty colour difference against my pale skin. 

Slowly but swiftly at the same time, the river became a waterfall as I repeated the previous motion over and over.

I forgot how much I loved this.

Call me crazy, but the red on white is the only beauty I see when it comes to my appearance. The darker scars for the lazy cuts and the paler lines for the deeper slits. They're beautiful.

And so, without hesitation, I perform the harmful activity that brings me so much joy over and over and over again. 

Scarlet puddles emerge on the already tainted sheets creating new patches that were sure to stain, if not for wandless magic.

In little time, the puddles became oceans and red was all I saw.

What can I say?

Old habits die hard.