ambitious, cunning, adaptable | hp x dm

[ Y E A R - T H R E E ]

Chapter Twenty Eight: Redecorating

The bed that belonged - only in the loosest sense possible - to Harry James Potter at Number Four, Privet Drive was not comfortable in the least. The mattress had been bought nearly two years ago at a garage sale for the lowest possible price. On it was a scratchy but serviceable blanket, a pillow that was missing the majority of it's stuffing, and one very tired twelve-year-old boy.

Despite how uncomfortable the bed was overall, it was the best thing Harry had experienced all day.

Precautions, in the form of spells and threats, and been put against his relatives to keep them from physically attacking him, but that didn't stop them from working him to the bone, or from spewing whatever foul things came to mind while he did the work. He had heard the word 'freak' be used more times in the past 6 days than he had in the past year. And that was one of the nicer words they had levied at him.

The clothes he had chosen to wear probably hadn't helped his case. Normally he wore his cousin's old castoffs, which looked ridiculous on him, but meant that they couldn't be mocked without casting that judgment on Dudley. This year, however, the precautions, mixed with the knowledge of the message it would send, made him choose the fancier clothes he had obtained from the Malfoys.

Apparently dressing nicely meant that his relations felt the need to speak their opinions on their views on the possibility of his personality. Behind 'freak', 'nancy boy' and 'pouf' were the most common things he was called.

But it didn't matter, as Harry had been telling himself. This day was the last full day he would be spending with his relations, and then his sacrifice for his mother's protection would be complete. It certainly felt like someone was cutting out his heart. Very slowly, at that.

Harry curled over on his side and ignored the way his back protested the movement. Rather than bother to try to use the pillow, which was only slightly higher than the bed, he grabbed it in his arms and squeezed it.

Just tonight, and a little bit of tomorrow, he told himself. And then he would be home.

With that thought in mind, Harry was able to drift off to sleep.

The next day began early for him. Around 6 AM, earlier than even he, a bona fide morning person, was comfortable with, his Aunt Petunia pounded on the door. "Wake up, Freak! You have things to do before those... things come and get you."

It wasn't worth it to try and explain again to her that the Malfoys were, in fact, people and not strange items. She hadn't listened all the times before when he tried. Apparently, that shade of hair just wasn't natural, and therefore they could not possibly be human. Instead, Harry rolled out of bed and stumbled down the stairs.

On the table in the kitchen was his list of chores for the day. He glanced at it and barely contained his groan. The list was just slightly shorter than yesterdays, and he wondered if they would try to prevent him from leaving if he didn't get them all done in time.

For a long moment, he considered simply not doing any of them. It's not like the Malfoys were going to sit around and wait for him to do them, nor could he be given the typical punishments for not completing them. He wouldn't be around long enough for them to starve him, and the protections would save him from whatever physical chastisement Uncle Vernon could dish out.

But the memory of the verbal onslaught he had suffered thus far this summer made him head out the back door to start. If that was what they said when he was doing what they wanted, he really didn't want to hear what they said when he angered them.

The first task of the day was taking care of the garden - weeding, mowing the grass, watering everything that needed it (and stealing a sip from the hose while he did so). After he washed Uncle Vernon's car, making sure it shined the way he liked it. Once that was completed, he went inside and made breakfast for the Dursleys and cleaned up afterward.