Harry James Stark

Chapter 14: The Truth

Harry stared at his fathe- no, Stark. Harry stared at Stark in shock. This was the first time anyone had ever said that to him. That they didn't want him to be in pain.

Don't get him wrong - he could tell Sirius, Hermione, and Ron all wanted him to be safe, but no one has ever told Harry that they didn't want him to be in pain.

Stark cared about him. Stark didn't want him to be in pain. Stark cared for him.

Harry could feel himself shutting down, his face draining of emotion and his hands stilling. It was too much.

"I'm fine,"

"No," Stark corrected softly, "You're not,"

"I'm not hurt," Harry replied in the same voice, devoid of all emotion.

"I get if you don't want to tell me anything," Stark said, "But will you at least let Bruce have a look at you to make sure you're not hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," Harry repeated, with more conviction in his voice.

"Look at it from my perspective, kid. You've known me for a day, and I'm asking you to tell me about your childhood trauma -- I know if the situation was reversed, I certainly wouldn't be jumping up and down to tell people about my trauma,"

"Exactly. You have no business getting into the past-"

"Except I do, Harry. I do. I'm your-"

"My what? My father?! Stark, my mother was roofied the night she met you! You aren't my father, you're just the man that raped my mother!"

"I-what?!"

"She was taking this trial drug for anxiety, and it had a side effect that acted similar to a roofie when mixed with alcohol. Nothing she did that night was of her own volition, and she suffered for a long time because of it," Harry spat. Stark's face grew more and more clouded as Harry talked, and Harry grew guiltier and guiltier.

"I didn't know," Stark whispered, as white as a ghost.

Harry retreated back to his room, shrouded in guilt.