Another Place To Be Hurt...

Blood is thicker than water.

Petunia gasped at the waves of memories that washed over her. Harry, little Harry. A lone tear tricked done her face as panic took over her skeletal frame. Air compressed itself out of her lungs as she retched at the horrors she'd be forced to do.
**Freak get up."**
She shuddered violently. How could she have treated Lilly's child like that? The tiny boy with the too big eyes that searched for happiness and security. Her mind reeled, searching for a possible explanation. Petunia Dursley was many things, but a child abuser wasn't one of them.
She lay there, too weak to stand as the hours passed slowly, afternoon turning to dusk into nightfall.

That was how Vernon found her, lying in a pool of vomit. Perspiration clinging to her forehead as she tried to comprehend how she could have hurt such an innocent child like Harry.

"We've failed him Vernon. We hurt him. You abused him like he was nothing more than a piece of scum. He was Lilly's child! Lilly's fucking child!" She spat with a vengeance. "HE'S JUST A BOY!"

Vernon Dursley smirked at the weak, hideous woman in front of him. And raised a slow, commanding hand as Petunia felt her voice die off as she stared at the scarlet red orbs and snake slit nose that appeared in front of her for a moment before they faded away once more into the face of the man that she'd loved for twenty years.

***********************************************

He couldn't make sense of anything through the haze of black swirls and flashing lights. He wondered if he was dead, wheth the spike of the garden fork had cut too deep. He shivered, feeling the extreme cold cut into his bones. He couldn't move. Paralysed by fear and pain. He tried to move as his scar burst excruciatingly, feeling the all too familiar pain of Voldemort or dark magic. He retched, his empty stomach trying to bring something up as it failed desperately.
Drowsiness overcame him as his eyes swarmed with fresh tears. He blinked them away desperately, determined not to be weaker than he already was.

Inside the house the dark mark flashed as Lord Voldemort - unable to stand the immense radiation of love for Lilly and wanting to protect Harry radiating from Petunia Dursley - fled the stout mans body, dispersing into the dead of night. Meanwhile, forgotten to everyone else, blood flowed at a steady pace from the lightning bolt scar and the gashes near the veins of the saviour of the wizarding world, whose very existence was determined to be nothing but a travesty.