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Shattered Mirror
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Tom
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
13,165
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
2
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Tom
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
13,165
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
2
Disclaimer:
I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter fandom, JKR's characters or the books and movies of the series. This is purely fiction and I make NO money from writing this story.
Shattered Mirror
Hello again! This is another of my stories from ff.net that has been revamped for adult ff.net. Please ignore the weird spacing; I’m trying to make it flow, kinda like a poem. Formerly called Fragments of Forever for those who are eager for new chapters and want to look it up, I will let you know that this is probably one of the most angst ridden stories I have written to date. There are a lot of adult themes in this story and if you do chose to read this be warned, this chapter does contain RAPE. If you are uncomfortable with these things please don’t comment instead don’t read it! The title of this story comes from a novel by the same name. I don’t recall her name but the author of this book is awesome! So without further ado, I give you Shattered Mirror.
-0-
Hunger.
People say they know hunger but do they really?
Hunger, like a gnawing ache in your belly.
Hunger that makes you want to cry.
That makes you want to die.
Harry Potter rolled over on blood soaked dirty white sheets and tried not to wince as he jarred his broken arm. He was that kind of hungry.
He hadn't eaten in days. Almost a week. He was used to it though. The Dursley's never fed him all that much over the years.
Harry inhaled and tried not to cry. It seemed that all he was doing lately was trying to hold back the tears. He could live with the physical pain. He was nearly invulnerable to it.
But oh, the agony of loneliness. It struck him in the heart like a lead-tipped arrow. It ate at his very soul like poison, carving its way into his very being.
Harry tried to be silent. He didn't want Uncle Vernon to come back. Who knows what he would do if Harry woke him up again for the second night in a row.
Harry had to stay awake. If he didn't the nightmares would come. They always did now. Before the accident, they only happened when he was stressed but now they came every night.
Harry didn't want to close his eyes. He didn't want to go to sleep. He knew that if he did, they would blame him.
It was the summer of his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and he knew that he had been broken.
Harry Potter was a strong child; he had to be if he wanted to survive living with the Dursley’s. But there was no hope left, nothing for him to live for. No one left who didn’t blame him.
And why shouldn't they blame him? He deserved it. He was the one who let them down. He killed them. Their blood would forever be on his hands.
“Ahhh!” Harry screamed. His skin crawled and his body shook with the force of his terror.
He knew he had to be quiet. Quiet or Uncle Vernon would come. But the tears, oh the pain, it would not stop.
His very soul.
It hurt, he hurt everywhere.
It didn't make any sense. Why did he hurt so much on the inside when on the outside, he was less than desecrated.
He should be mangled, scarred beyond recognition. The agony should be outside, the way it was inside.
He almost understood why Uncle Vernon was always shoving his face in the dirt. It was where he belonged. He deserved to be punished for all the things he had done.
He could still hear their voices, begging him to save him. He could still see their blue, blue eyes bright with the light of hope that he would prevail until the very end. He had failed them and he deserved every blow that Uncle Vernon gave him.
“BOY!” Uncle Vernon came crashing into the cupboard under the stairs. Harry looked up through tears to see his heaving frame fill the doorway. Vernon thrust his grotesque purple face into Harry's.
“What's all this bloody racket you're making? Do you have any sodding idea what time it is? I have an important meeting tomorrow at work and you're keeping me up again! I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget boy! Never mess with Vernon Dursley!” Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's collar and shook him.
Harry could feel his teeth ache as he was shook hard enough to get whiplash. He was startled to see a new look on Uncle Vernon's face.
It was a cruel look, the look one imagines on a murderer's face before they are killed. Uncle Vernon hated Harry but he had never given him a look quite like this one before. It didn't bode well for Harry's punishment.
Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's torn and bloody shirt. The bone chilling sound of tearing fabric spurned Harry into action. “Let go!” Harry pulled back sharply, “Let go!”
Smack!
Harry blinked back tears as he cupped his stinging cheek. Uncle Vernon had never hit his face before.
Harry could hear his heart pounding, a frantic fluttery beat.
“I'll show you boy! I'll Show you!” Vernon ripped off Harry's shirt and proceeded to yank off his pants.
“STOP! STOP! NO! NO!” Harry had a sickening feeling he knew what was happening.
But that couldn't be right, could it?
He couldn't be fighting Vernon for this, could he?
Vernon couldn't want this, could he?
He had hurt Harry in every way possible so; he couldn't want to do this could he?
Harry struggled wildly. He couldn't let this happen. This was all he had left. Everyone had taken so much from him. His name. His identity. His soul. His freedom. His family. His friends. His future.
Fate couldn't want this too, could it?
Who would be so cruel? So vicious? Vernon pinned Harry to the small cot in the cupboard under the stairs.
Harry could feel it slipping away. The last piece of himself. His innocence. Until now Harry could believe that life would somehow get better. That miracles could happen.
Now he knew different.
Harry looked up at the peeling glow-in-the-dark stickers that Dudley had stuck on the ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs. Harry could always remember this moment for as long as he lived.
This was the moment when he lost his innocence. This was the moment when Harry Potter was raped by Vernon Dursley in the cupboard under the stairs in number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
This was the moment when Harry Potter lost his mind.
-0-
Hunger.
People say they know hunger but do they really?
Hunger, like a gnawing ache in your belly.
Hunger that makes you want to cry.
That makes you want to die.
Harry Potter rolled over on blood soaked dirty white sheets and tried not to wince as he jarred his broken arm. He was that kind of hungry.
He hadn't eaten in days. Almost a week. He was used to it though. The Dursley's never fed him all that much over the years.
Harry inhaled and tried not to cry. It seemed that all he was doing lately was trying to hold back the tears. He could live with the physical pain. He was nearly invulnerable to it.
But oh, the agony of loneliness. It struck him in the heart like a lead-tipped arrow. It ate at his very soul like poison, carving its way into his very being.
Harry tried to be silent. He didn't want Uncle Vernon to come back. Who knows what he would do if Harry woke him up again for the second night in a row.
Harry had to stay awake. If he didn't the nightmares would come. They always did now. Before the accident, they only happened when he was stressed but now they came every night.
Harry didn't want to close his eyes. He didn't want to go to sleep. He knew that if he did, they would blame him.
It was the summer of his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and he knew that he had been broken.
Harry Potter was a strong child; he had to be if he wanted to survive living with the Dursley’s. But there was no hope left, nothing for him to live for. No one left who didn’t blame him.
And why shouldn't they blame him? He deserved it. He was the one who let them down. He killed them. Their blood would forever be on his hands.
“Ahhh!” Harry screamed. His skin crawled and his body shook with the force of his terror.
He knew he had to be quiet. Quiet or Uncle Vernon would come. But the tears, oh the pain, it would not stop.
His very soul.
It hurt, he hurt everywhere.
It didn't make any sense. Why did he hurt so much on the inside when on the outside, he was less than desecrated.
He should be mangled, scarred beyond recognition. The agony should be outside, the way it was inside.
He almost understood why Uncle Vernon was always shoving his face in the dirt. It was where he belonged. He deserved to be punished for all the things he had done.
He could still hear their voices, begging him to save him. He could still see their blue, blue eyes bright with the light of hope that he would prevail until the very end. He had failed them and he deserved every blow that Uncle Vernon gave him.
“BOY!” Uncle Vernon came crashing into the cupboard under the stairs. Harry looked up through tears to see his heaving frame fill the doorway. Vernon thrust his grotesque purple face into Harry's.
“What's all this bloody racket you're making? Do you have any sodding idea what time it is? I have an important meeting tomorrow at work and you're keeping me up again! I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget boy! Never mess with Vernon Dursley!” Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's collar and shook him.
Harry could feel his teeth ache as he was shook hard enough to get whiplash. He was startled to see a new look on Uncle Vernon's face.
It was a cruel look, the look one imagines on a murderer's face before they are killed. Uncle Vernon hated Harry but he had never given him a look quite like this one before. It didn't bode well for Harry's punishment.
Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's torn and bloody shirt. The bone chilling sound of tearing fabric spurned Harry into action. “Let go!” Harry pulled back sharply, “Let go!”
Smack!
Harry blinked back tears as he cupped his stinging cheek. Uncle Vernon had never hit his face before.
Harry could hear his heart pounding, a frantic fluttery beat.
“I'll show you boy! I'll Show you!” Vernon ripped off Harry's shirt and proceeded to yank off his pants.
“STOP! STOP! NO! NO!” Harry had a sickening feeling he knew what was happening.
But that couldn't be right, could it?
He couldn't be fighting Vernon for this, could he?
Vernon couldn't want this, could he?
He had hurt Harry in every way possible so; he couldn't want to do this could he?
Harry struggled wildly. He couldn't let this happen. This was all he had left. Everyone had taken so much from him. His name. His identity. His soul. His freedom. His family. His friends. His future.
Fate couldn't want this too, could it?
Who would be so cruel? So vicious? Vernon pinned Harry to the small cot in the cupboard under the stairs.
Harry could feel it slipping away. The last piece of himself. His innocence. Until now Harry could believe that life would somehow get better. That miracles could happen.
Now he knew different.
Harry looked up at the peeling glow-in-the-dark stickers that Dudley had stuck on the ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs. Harry could always remember this moment for as long as he lived.
This was the moment when he lost his innocence. This was the moment when Harry Potter was raped by Vernon Dursley in the cupboard under the stairs in number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
This was the moment when Harry Potter lost his mind.