Through the Pain

Okay...so, I was severely depressed when I wrote this. That's why this story is honestly so freaking depressing. I kind of like it now, though, so I've kept it open. I just wanted to give you a warning so if you're looking for the happy bubbly feels, this is definitely not it. For those of you who still want to read this, I hope you enjoy.

Over the Summer, Dudley was more...energetic than normal. Harry had no medicines and his Aunt and Uncle didn't care at all what happened to him, so they never shared. He didn't dare try to steal from their medicine cabinet, because Dudley's version of play is barely better than Uncle Vernon's punishment.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia just forbade him to leave the house when he had a black eye or their were obvious bruises on his face. They didn't want the gossip around Privet Drive to escalate, of course. How ever would they maintain their image if their neighbors saw their strange nephew?

What felt like far too many months later, Harry is staggering onto the Hogwarts Express, it taking everything in him not to wince or give any indication that he is in pain.

His body is covered with bruises-he honestly isn't sure if there is an actual circle of clear skin anywhere-and he has a broken bone in his leg that never healed properly. It came from Dudley pushing Harry out of the car at the store and Harry falling and landing badly. His Aunt had pretended not to hear the crack that followed.

Harry walks down the corridor, it taking everything in him not to wince with every other step, and he looks through each window for Ron and Hermione.

He only finds them when he gets to the front of the train, and sees that they are in the Prefects' Carriage. They appear to be busy, so Harry just turns around, hoping the potion he had managed to brew, hiding his injuries, will stay active.

Harry turns and walks back down the train corridor, now in search of an empty compartment that he doesn't have to share. He finds that the usual one at the back is empty.

He limps in, not bothering to hide it anymore, and shuts the door, the lock clicking into place easily.

With much struggle-and several gasps of pain-he managed to get his trunk and Hedwig's cage stowed away on the luggage rack. Luckily, the owl is fast asleep in her cage, her head nestled under her wing.

Once everything has been out away, Harry slowly lays down on the seat, wishing more than almost anything that he can just float away and not hurt anymore. It would make everything so much easier and for once in three months, he wishes he could not be in pain. What a dream...

After much wishful thinking that really only makes him feel worse, Harry slowly drifts off into an uneasy sleep, his heavily bruised arms over his chest and stomach in almost a protective position.

Harry is awakened by a knock on the door. "Is this car full?" A familiar voice that should have alerted Harry to its owner long before he cracked open his eye and saw him asks.

The compartment door slides open without a sound, and a familiar figure steps in.

"Malfoy. Go somewhere else." Harry mumbles, not even bothering to sit up.

"You look awful." Draco drawls, leaning against the doorway.

"Gee. Thanks." Harry mumbles again.

Harry doesn't even make an attempt to sit up or to reach the wand in his pocket. He closes his eyes again and wishes he could be back asleep. Unconsciousness was an escape from the pain, and he was always glad to have it wash back over him.