Coming Undone

Title: Coming Undone

Author: QueenC

Feedback: QueenC@starmail.com

Rating: R

Pairing(s): Harry/Draco and Severus/Remus. Mentions various other pairings, but none in any real detail.

Disclaimer: Rowling owns everything. The challenge belongs to Severitus.

Distribution: Anywhere I send it. If anyone else wants it just let me know.

Spoilers: Through OotP.

Summary: The truth doesn’t always set you free. My response to Severitus’ challenge.

Author’s Note: Okay, this is the third time I’m mentioning this. Response to Severitus’ challenge here. If you don’t know about the challenge, come down from the tower you’ve been living in alongside Trelawney and read the requirements here: http://www.geocities.com/challengefics/thechallenge.htm. Also, just so you can’t say you weren’t warned, this fic is going to be rather unpleasant at times. If you can’t stand the thought of Severus being cruel just because he can, read no further. For the rest of you left, enjoy!

Special Thanks: To Leanne, the best Remus J. Lupin that ever existed. Are you certain you aren’t really JKR in disguise, hun?

******

Part One
Escape

Privet Drive was a nice, normal neighborhood that was filled with nice, normal people with nice, normal lives. The houses all looked the same, all faceless, expressionless pieces of lumber and stone that were lined up together in rows of an orderly fashion. It was orderly. It was nice. It was normal.

It was incredibly bland.

It was a quiet neighborhood, too. One that was filled to bursting with children who did well in school, men who supported their families, and women who stayed at home and spent their time spying on their supposed friends. It had the stereotypical ‘cat lady’ (a woman who was slightly mad and loved felines far more than humans), and an ice cream truck that came by every day, all summer long, at precisely four thirty in the afternoon.

All of the children would come charging from their homes, or the local park, with money clutched tightly in their hands. Their faces would be alight with the prospect of purchasing yet another frozen treat. Their voices would be happy and rushed as they bragged to their friends how much money they’d managed to get their parents to part with. Once their ice cream had replaced their money, all of the children would then return to their homes or the park, temporarily content.

All of the children, that is, except for one.

Harry Potter, current resident of Number Four Privet Drive, had never made the mad dash down the road in pursuit of the ice cream truck. He had never stood impatiently in line and pronounced loudly to his friends what he was going to buy. He had never tasted the sweet, sugary treats that came around every day at four thirty, and he didn’t suppose he ever would. After all, children like him didn’t get to do those sorts of things.

It wasn’t that Harry was a bad boy. Far from it. In fact, had his Aunt and Uncle taken the time to truly pay attention to him, they would have quiossiossibly been surprised to learn just how well behave their nephew was. Mostly soft-spoken, Harry was the type of child that always attempted to do what was right, no matter the personal cost.

However, he also wasn’t what others would call normal.

You see, Harry Potter was a wizard. A wizard who was forced to live with his very non-magical, extremely Muggle relatives, no matter how much they despised him. And despise him they most certainly did.

His Uncle Vernon made it a point to remind him on a daily basis how different he was. How ‘his kind’ was unnatural and oughtn’t be allowed to exist. His Aunt Petunia wasn’t any better. It was her sister that had given birth to Harry, and the horse-faced woman made certain to pass on every bit of hatred she’d had for Lily to the boy. Then, of course, there was Harry’s cousin, Dudley.

The size of a small house, and growing larger every day, the boy was as cruel to Harry as was humanly possible. He took great relish out of using his considerable bulk to beat the smaller boy up, and took every opportunity available to have his friends do the same.

Yes, the Dursley’s most definitely despised Harry Potter. And the feeling was quite mutual.

Ever since his eleventh birthday, when Harry had learned the truth about who he was, who his parents had been, and why being unnatural was actually a blessing, the boy had waited with anticipation for the day he could finally leave his Muggle relatives, and Privet Drive, far, far away. He had been counting down the years, months, weeks, even days, until he could look the Dursley’s in the eye and tell them exactly what he thought of their nice, normal neighborhood and nice, normal lives. Then he would Apparate away and never have to see them again.

It was these thoughts that had kept the Boy Who Lived as content as possible during the long summer breaks. However, even these thoughts were quickly losing their ability to keep him from summoning the Knight Bus and leaving the Muggles far behind. Especially considering that this was his last summer with the Dursley’s, and there was very little stopping either Dudley or Vernon from making certain to make the stay as horrible as possible.

From Harry’s third year until his fifth, the boy had used the threat of his godfather, Sirius, as a means of keeping his relatives in line. Then, following Sirius’, various members of the Order of the Phoenix had taken it upon themselves to threaten the Muggles into submission.

Now, though, even that wasn’t enough.

It started two weeks after Harry returned home from Hogwarts. Petunia had taken ill late one night and had been rushed to the hospital. Three days and hundreds of tests later, it was discovered that the woman had an advanced form of breast cancer. She wasn’t expected to live to see the end of the year.

She had spent a little over a month in the hospital. During that time, Vernon had taken to drinking heavily and Dudley became prone to either burst into tears or destroy something. Harry had stayed out of their way, a small part of him feeling sympathy for them. After all, as horrid of a person as Petunia was, it was clear she was loved dearly by her husband and son. And neither of them knew how to cope without her constant, overbearing influence in their lives.

Unfortunately, all too soon Vernon and Dudley both seemed to realize that they had a perfect means for venting their frustration and anger – Harry. They beat him at random, often cracking his ribs and leaving large bruises over his body. When they weren’t beating him, they kept him locked in his room, often forgetting to feed him.

Harry hadn’t bothered to fight back. He had known it would be useless. And besides, he continued to tell himself, as soon as Petunia was home things would go back to the way they were.

However, that didn’t happen.

His aunt returned home late one afternoon looking as sickly as she surely was. She had immediately gone to bed, not even casting so much as a glare toward her nephew.

Two hours later, Dudley had decided that he was bored and had gone upstairs to unlock the door to Harry’s room. Stepping inside, he had shut it behind him and proceeded to give his cousin a beating unlike any other.

Harry didn’t remember much from the encounter, only that he eventually curled himself into a ball and tried to figure out why no one had come to his rescue. He bit clear through his lip in an attempt to keep from crying out. And, just before losing consciousness, he distinctly remembered hearing his bedroom door open and Petunia’s shrill voice exclaiming he was making too much noise and to shut up.

The next morning, on his seventeenth birthday, Harry Potter decided he’d had enough.

Having already told his friends to save any gifts they may have for him until they saw him again, there was very little packing that needed to be done. His trunk had been under lock and key since he’d arrived at Privet Drive at the beginning of the summer. His owl, Hedwig, merely needed to be set loose and told to head to the Burrow. And as for anything else…

Well, Harry didn’t have anything else.

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. Having anticipated his birthday, and the fact that he would be able to use magic once he was seventeen, the young man had made certain to keep his wand with him, instead of locked up with his other belongings. At least, that was the reason he’d told himself he was doing it. However, there was a good chance that the attack from Dementors two years earlier, and the constant threat of Voldemort, had caused him to take precautions.

Still, whatever the case, the fact remained that Harry Potter was now a legal adult in the wizarding world.

And he was armed.

And pissed off.

The Dursley’s didn’t stand a chance.

Pulling out his wand, the young man limped across his bedroom toward the bolted door. In his left hand he clutched tightly at Hedwig’s cage, grateful that the owl was remaining silent.

He deliberately avoided glancing at himself in the mirror. There was no need to remind him that he had been beaten.

Aiming the piece of wood at the locks, he stated in a raspy, yet firm, voice, “Alohomora!” He watched impassively as each padlock unlatched and the door slowly swung open.

Harry paused for a second in the doorway, part of him still terrified that a letter from the Ministry was currently on its way to intercept him. Granted, he knew legally that he was allowed to do this. But that didn’t mean that six years of training was going to evaporate overnight.

After a few seconds, when the only sound was his own ragged breathing, Harry smirked. This was it. The taste of freedom was in his mouth. He was leaving.

Moving with a purpose down the hallway and stairs, the soon-to-be Seventh Year Gryffindor finally stood facing the cupboard beneath the stairwell. It was the place he’d spent the better part of his childhood; locked away like some sort of embarrassment or mistake.

Not any longer. Aiming his wand at the small latch, he snapped the same unlocking charm as earlier. In the matter of a few moments, he had shrank his trunk, stuffed it in his pocket, and turned his attention to the kitchen.

So far, he’d managed to avoid any of his relatives. He knew that he shouldn’t leave without at least telling them. However, he was also loathe to seek them out.

Fortunately, or possibly unfortunately, the choice was taken from him.

“What do you think you’re doing, you freak?” a loud voice bellowed from behind him. Turning, Harry stared impassively at the enraged face of his uncle. The man’s skin was purple, his eyes large as he looked from the teenager to the wand.

“I’m leaving,” Harry said simply. “And I won’t be returning.”

Vernon blinked, part of him expecting this to be some sort of joke. Glaring openly at the bruised and battered boy standing in front of him, the man finally managed, “You can’t…”

Harry snorted slightly. “Actually,” he replied, “I can. I’m seventeen now. Legally, I can leave here, return to the Wizarding World, and never come back. And that, Uncle Vernon is precisely what I intend to do.” Narrowing his eyes, he added, “Now get out of my way.”

To Harry’s surprise, the man did as he was told. And, a few minutes later, the front door of Number Four Privet Drive slammed closed behind him, with the words of ‘Never darken my doorstep again, freak!’ ringing in his ears.

Standing on the front step, Harry glanced around at the quiet neighborhood as though seeing it for the first time. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath and, reopening his eyes, he exhaled. A smile crossed his face, perhaps the first true one since Sirius’ death a few years earlier, and he couldn’t help but give a small jump for joy.

I’m free! Finally, at long last, free!

And, humming quietly to himself, Harry Potter began walking down the road. He pointedly ignored the feeling that he was forgetting something. Whatever it was, it either wasn’t very important or it was something he could replace.

It wouldn’t be until much later that he realized he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

******

A/N: Yes, I know the part is short. They will get longer as the fic progresses. And, as stated above, this is my response to Severitus’ challenge. The link to the challenge requirements, should you wish to read them, can be found in my Author’s Note at the top of this page.

I am also aware that there is some dispute over what being in seventeen in the wizarding world actually means. For the purposes of this fic, I’m claiming it means that Harry can now do magic and not risk expulsion from school.

So, now I’ve done my part. How about leaving a review to let me know what you think?

QueenC