Underneath It All

Chapter One:

Nothing To Lose

Summary: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy SLASH! (I SUCK AT SUMMARIES!) Takes place in Sixth Year. The War is over. Strange circumstances brings Dark Magic about, Harry suddenly isn't in his body any more and he's beginning to look beneath a persons masks as he experiences somebody else's nightmares and somebody else experiences his. Sometimes it takes another person to understand yourself.

Disclaimer: This is not mine. I am not J.K Rowling, but would love to be! =D

Rating: M for now, NC-17 in later, raunchy chapters!! ^_^

A/N: Hello there! This is Mysty Vander and I'm here to introduce this fan-fiction! Please bear with me, I find the songs attached to every chapter (either at the beginning/end/or in the middle of the chapters) to be very important to the mood of the scenes! Yes, there will be a song per each chapter! Also, I hope do update regularly and need to warn you that there will not be SLASH for a couple of chapters inwards. Give it sometime here, characters need to develop! Haha- really, I hope you all enjoy!! Please review!!!

Nothing To Lose - Billy Talent

Need more friends with wings

All the angels I know

Put concrete in my veins

I'd always walk home alone,

So I became lifeless

Just like my telephone.

There's nothing to lose

When no one knows your name

There's nothing to gain

But the days don't seem to change.

*

As the sun set, Harry sighed contently. He was always happy when the day was over, because that finally meant he could sneak downstairs onto the Dursley's computer and download songs onto his MP3 player. He had gotten some of his Galleons exchanged before leaving Hogwarts so that he could buy a few things for himself - to keep him entertained and distracted over the summer.

But tonight was different, he didn't have the want to download new songs as he popped the ear phones in and turned up the volume. He pressed play and let the lyrics wash over him, soothing him. Harry leaned his face on his hand, wincing slightly at the pain because of his black eye. "It's just a bruise," Harry chided himself aloud. He looked down at his blank piece of parchment and the quill in his other hand.

He was supposed to be writing to Ron and Hermione at the moment, but he had no idea what he wanted to tell them. What more did he have to say that he hadn't said already? They're communication had lessened that summer, it was only two weeks before school began and he was still miserably stuck at the Dursleys. Harry gave up on ferociously begging Dumbledore to let him goto Number Twelve Grimmauld Place or The Burrow but alas was not allowed - there was an uprising Death Eater alliance and their Number One objective was to kill the one who had killed their master. Apparantly all their once-safe hide-outs were being closely monitored by Death Eaters, and whenever Ministry officials, Aurors or parts of the Order attempted in apprehending them they would simply apparate to unknown locales.

Harry was past the part of frustration and now felt dully alone. His nights were the only safe parts of his holidays, when the Dursley's were fast asleep and he was left alone to his two solaces; his music, and his thoughts. So he began to write the only words he could think of to say reassuringly to his friends.

Dear Hermione and Ron,

I hope you two are having a good time at The Burrow - and I hope there hasn't been any issues as of late. Nothings changed over here, the Dursley's are still a bunch of arseholes. I'm getting really bored and I wish I could join you guys, but yeah I know I can't.

Can't wait until two weeks from now, let me know what our plans are for Diagon Alley!

Love From,

Harry.

He couldn't write anymore, but he knew his friends would want more reassurance. But still, that was the happiest he could write. Sighing, Harry gestured towards Hedwig who was perched in her open cage, the snowy white owl glided down to land on the windowsill in front of his drawing desk. After placing the small piece of parchment in an envelope, Harry tied it to Hedwig's talon and reached into his drawrer to give her a small Owl's treat. "There you go girl, bring this to the Burrow," he instructed wearily. Hedwig nipped the tip of his nose before taking flight out of his propped open bedroom window.

It was a hot summers night, one that Harry would sometimes find himself wandering the deserted streets of Little Whinging on. Alas, his muscles ached from all the chores the Dursley's forced him to do during the day - without obeying, he would suffer without food until tomorrow. Dragging himself up from his desk, Harry made his way to his wardrobe to get undressed for the evening, the MP3 player still soothing him in his ears.

As he looked at himself through rounded glasses, he realized that he was becoming more unlike Harry James Potter everyday.

His messy black hair still lay untamed ontop of his head, his lightning bolt scar was still very prominant despite the demise of Lord Voldemort, yet his tanned, toned skin was amuck with marks of blue and black. Bruises racked from his arms, legs, chiseled abdomen, back, up his neck and they crept onto his face as well. His eyes were a dull, lifeless green.

"Pull yourself together," Harry cursed as he didn't let himself lose eye contact with the sad reflection as he got out of his clothes down to his boxers and then closed the cabinet door with a soft snap.

Harry crawled into his bed, pulled over the dirty sheet and reached onto his night table to grab the first book he could. It was Advanced OWL Potions, he was reviewing last years subjects to keep his mind off of things. As he began to read from the dog earred page, his eyes grew weary and he had to stop soon.

Harry was quick to fall to sleep, his body and mind completely and utterly exhausted.

*

Never played truth or dare

I'd have to check my mirror

To see if I'm still here

My parents had no clue

That I ate all my lunches

Alone in the bathroom

*

Waking up was a pure nuisance, as it was always to either Vernon's or Dudley's booming voice, depending on whether or not it was a weekend. Today, Harry was lucky that it was a weekday so it was Dudley banging down his door. Dudley enjoyed pushing Harry around, teasing him whilst he did chores and making him do his own chores as well. This wasn't that bad, in retrospective to the way Vernon treated Harry on the weekends.

"Potter, get up! I want my breakfast!" Dudley cried, sighing Harry pulled himself from bed - wincing as pain shot up from several different points on his body. He was pretty sure his ribs were broken but didn't know proper Healing spells he could perform on himself, and ones that wouldn't get him in trouble with the Ministry for Underage Wizardry either.

"Coming," Harry grumbled more to himself than anybody else.

Once he was dressed, Harry dragged himself downstairs and into the kitchen where he saw Dudley accompanied by his Father at the table. This brought Harry grief, whenever Vernon had a long day weekend and this was obviously one of them. Quickly avoiding Vernon's beady, blue eyes Harry immediately began to fry up bacon as it took the longest to cook.

The sixteen year-old Wizard had become very good at not only cleaning but gardening, cooking, and the laundry over the past month and a half since Hogwarts was let out. Another thing Harry had become good at was masking his emotions, as well as biting back screams from pain.

"Hurry up, boy," Vernon ordered under his breath, his eyes were scanning the daily paper but every once and awhile would rake up and down the youths body as he worked at the stove.

Harry heaved a deep breath, feeling those eyes on his back he felt the need to physically shiver but bit his tongue, holding it back. Dudley was sneering at him, as always, and then reading the comics section.

"Will Petunia be joining us?" Harry asked in a whisper, he dared not speak at an interval much larger than that for fear of being chastised for it.

"No," was Vernon's short response. Petunia was rarely there for meals anymore, and Harry allowed himself to wonder why. His Aunt was becoming less frequent in the household, always going out with friends and this just seemed to make Vernon's attitude towards him nastier. Harry considered the possibility that Petunia knew, or heard rather, what Vernon did to him and actually had a shred of humanity in her and was becoming increasingly disgusted by her husband. This somewhat pleased Harry, because it meant that it wasn't only him who was falling apart.

"Enjoy," Harry said as he placed two plates in front of the hungry men at the table, he shyly put his own down and stood by the seat at the far end waiting for permission to eat.

After a few moments of Vernon shoveling food in his mouth, he gestured towards Harry who smiled thankfully and sat down. The brunette ate as quietly and quickly as possible, because he always had to be finished his meal before Vernon and Dudley because he had to be ready to clean the dishes right away; the house had to be left in spotless conditions. Harry never understood why, it's not like they had many visitors save Marge.

"Your to do garden work out in the back today. And no coming back in the house till lunch! Don't forget to prine the roses, boy," Vernon snapped and then stood up from his chair, his footsteps boomed through the hallway and towards the living room.

Harry sighed and stood up, he collected the plates and brought them to the sink. It was then that Dudley moved in, he pushed his large body up against Harry's smaller one, making the brunette wince in pain and disgust all at once.

"You know, I'm jealous of Daddy," the boy's face came up over Harry's shoulder as he tried restlessly to ignore him, filling the sink with soapy water and getting the sponge ready.

"What for?" Harry asked venomously, always a little more brave when it came to Dudley.

"All the fun he has with you, I think I want to go," Dudley hissed into his ear, and then his sausage-like fingers harshly grabbed Harry by the hip and forced the boy to face him. Harry held back a whimper at the sudden pain and let his eyes drop to the floor immediately. "Look at me Potter, you filthy freak," he growled, forcing Harry's head up with his other free hand.

Harry reluctantly looked up but allowed his eyes to stay lifeless as they always were. "Good boy," Dudley leaned in closer, almost touching his face to Harry's, "Be expected me tonight in your room instead of my Daddy because I always get what I want," and without another word, Dudley turned around and swept from the kitchen.

Harry allowed himself to shiver physically now, with nobody around only then did he let himself show signs of fear, desperation, depression, anger, or weakness. Only behind closed doors could he really be himself.

Two hours later Harry found himself completely exhausted in the back gardens, amongst the dirt which covered his shaking body as the sun beat down heavily upon him he collapsed onto his back. "I need water," Harry muttered to himself, he was feeling the effects of sun stroke coming on.

Bringing himself to his feet, Harry stumbled towards the house of Number Four Private Drive and into the kitchen through the backdoor. He let it close lightly as he grabbed a glass from the cupbaord and filled it with water. As the liquid slid down his throat, he was too distracted to notice Vernon stepping in the kitchen behind him. As he went to refill his glass, the larger man stopped him by harshly grabbing his arm, flipping him around quickly.

With a firm grip and a purple face, Vernon cursed darkly, "I thought I told you no coming in the house! You insolent boy!" he yelled furiously, his grip tightened on Harry's flesh but the brunette didn't so much as flinch.

He'll let go. Sh. He'll let go soon. Just dont' do anything. Don't move. Don't breath. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt.

Harry was repeating this and other tantra's in his head over and over again, his reassurance to himself was the only thing keeping him alive and sane in situations like these. How did Vernon get so riled up so easily in the first place, did he really hate Harry that much? Raising his free hand in the air, Vernon brought it down forcibly on the unbruised, left side of Harry's face. His head turned in the direction of which it was slapped, and his eyes filled with tears he dare not let fall. Harry cursed himself for going in the house, he would have much rather died of heat stroke than to have another bruise to his collection; what was he going to tell Hermione and Ron?

"Now get back to work," he growled and released Harry who immediately fled from the kitchen as soon as possible. When he was out back in the garden he let the tears fall silently, not wanting to alarm the neighbours. That was the most important part; that the Dursley's still appeared normal even though they had a 'freak' in their household.

*

It was one week later, and you would have thought Harry's bruises to have healed but when only more were added everyday, it was difficult for the older ones to go away. Harry counted down - only seven more days till Hogwarts. He kept this in his mind as Dudley finished inside of him for the fourth time in seven days, Vernon took the other three days.

The raping was becoming more frequent, Harry couldn't understand why and his only suggestion was because he was being brought to Kings Cross station in a week maybe the Dursley's wanted to get all of their hatred out now.

The large boy yanked up his sweat pants and chortled darkly at the brunette who lay still on his stomach, he dare not move in fear of being hit. Harry's eyes were closed tight, his fists balled into his sweaty sheets as he heaved. "Till next time. And there will be a next time Potter," with that, Dudley left his room and slammed the door.

Harry felt defeated, he turned over onto his side and didn't even bother putting his clothes back on and instead just pulled his sheet over his head. He fell into a troubled sleep, his nightmares of death and darkness plagued him. All he could do was think of the next week, when his pain and loneliness would end.

*

Teachers said "it's just a phase"

When I grow up my children

Will probably be the same.

Kids just love to tease

Who'd know it'd put me underground at seventeen.