take my hoodie ✓

eight | detention

~no pov

If there was one thing Harry hated most in life, it was detention. Detentions took away his chores time. Unfinished chores meant getting beat. And getting beat?

Harry preferred to not think about it, which was hard because it was always on his mind, because it was constantly happening. Even if it wasn't "severe" - mostly - it didn't mean it never left his thoughts.

Other than that, detentions were genuinely boring. Especially when stuck with Snape. It was uncomfortable and made Harry feel like throwing up; he had no trust in men, because of what happened on Christmas break of year ten.

And because of his uncle of course. And Dudley. And Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise and his four other bullies, who, for now, will stay unnamed.

It was only Harry in detention, which made him even more uncomfortable. What if Snape did something? It was times like these where he understood the fear teenage girls had of being alone with older men.

Obviously, it didn't wasn't just teen girls who were afraid of them, but it was more talked about and normalised. Men don't cry, men don't have fear, right?

"Potter."

Harry looked up from his seat. He wasn't doing anything- he was just staring down at the table. What on earth could he have done now?

"It would be a waste of time if you just sat staring at the table. Get out homework or read a book." He scoffed. "Waste of space student." He muttered to himself, but Harry heard.

Harry merely frowned and got out a book, one he'd read a thousand times over but never got bored of. Besides, it was light and didn't take up much space in his bag, and quick to read.

It was quarter-to-six when Harry got back to Privet Drive. He figured that if he was going to be late anyway, he might as well go into the shops and buy something for himself. Being late meant being beat, and if he's going to get beat he's gonna need something to make him feel less shit.

Sweets and energy drinks, how delicious.

The calories, however, aren't delicious.

But when you're hurt and need a pick-me-up, you suck it up and get rid of the calories later.

He also stopped off at the little Tesco's to steal something he wasn't allowed to buy at his age. It was imperative he had it. He was no longer allowed to go near it at home.

Harry unlocked the front door as silently as he could. When he walked in, the only thing you could hear was the TV playing, so he took that as confirmation that no one noticed his arrival yet.

Sore, but stealthy nonetheless, he went upstairs quietly and dropped off his bag and got changed into the oversized, hand-me-down rags he called clothes.

Once downstairs, he was convinced the Dursley's were deaf, because he'd turned the oven on and placed the chicken in and no one said anything.

He thanked God for giving him an ounce of intelligence; if he didn't leave defrosted, marinated chicken in the fridge the night before, he'd have to start dinner from scratch.

Whilst dinner was in the oven, he swept and vacuumed the house spotless, and did the dishes after. Lord knows how so many dishes can get dirty during the time Harry wasn't in the house.

He was in his zone, music playing in his mind, setting the table, when a loud door slamming took him back into reality.

Fuck.

Vernon Dursley took around ten minutes to get himself prepared for dinner after coming home from work.

Harry Potter had around nine minutes to get everything plated before the "man of the house" sat down and called everyone else down to eat.