Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hadrian always wondered about the outside world. He'd stare at the bar on the door to his room (cupboard) imagining it breaking apart. He wondered if people loved things he did like the way the sky turned purple or pink sometimes when the sun was setting. Or how graceful water was and how it responded to touch so heavily.
He'd once asked his Aunt and Uncle (Petunia and Vernon Dudley) if they could go to the beach as he'd love to see the sea. That was a mistake. Uncle Vernon roared at him calling him ungrateful. His head was knocked back as Aunt Petunia gave him a harsh slap.

He wasn't allowed food for a week or water. Without food Hadrian could survive, but without water he felt like he was going to die on day one. He did as much chores around the house as he could to earn forgiveness. Cooking for his Aunt uncle and cousin, doing the dishes and gardening. Anything, Two days later he was allowed water and a few scraps Petunia hadn't finished.

On a particular Saturday as Hadrian fried eggs on the stove, a knock and a thud was heard from the living room. "Boy! Come bring me the mail" Vernon ordered. "I just need to finish up these eggs" he replied. Aunt petunia twisted his ear for that, using the still hot spatula to slap him, "do as your uncle says horrid child". Tears filled his face as the burn stung on his cheek. He left the stove and took the mail quietly reading through it. Two for Uncle Vernon from his workplace, one for Aunt Petunia from her colleagues, five for Dudley from school. Hadrian let noted filtering trough them then he came across one.

Mr. H Potter
Cupboard under the stairs
4 Privet drive
Little Whinging surrey.

He paused his heart beating swiftly. He never got mail. Never in his eleven years of living. Why was he suddenly getting mail and how the hell did someone know he lived under the stairs. Before he could come up with any theories the stack of letters was snatched from him and handed to Vernon. He got a sharp smack on the arm that began bruising purple against his . "Idiot boy taking too long you've nearly burnt the eggs!" Aunt Petunia yelled at him.
"I-I'm sorry i was just looking through my letter and-"

"Ha!" Vernon let out a laugh as he went through the letters, "who'd write to you-" he trailed off now staring at the same letter Harry had once held. He threw down the letter and grabbed Hadrian's arm harsh and tight. "Who have you been writing to Tell me!" He shook Hadrian who began crying.

"No one i swear!"

Uncle Vernon obviously didn't believe him as he dragged him back to his cupboard and tossed him against the all, Hadrian hit the wall with a loud oomph and crumpled to the floor, Vernon stared at him Menacingly.

"Don't feel like talking? We'll see about that tomorrow" He snarled with a creepy glint in his eyes that scared Hadrian. He locked Hadrian in the cupboard once again.

Hadrian wanted nothing more than death.

Chapter Text

Living under the stairs wasn't supposed to be something one enjoyed but Harry treasured moments he got away from his aunt and uncle even it meant being locked in.

He used to tell himself someone out there is looking for him and will come save him.

He's almost given up.

The cupboard was dark and stifling, the air thick with dust. Harry sat hunched against the wall, the sharp sting of Vernon’s grip still burning into his arm. On the little table beside him sat the only thing he had for the week: a chipped glass half-filled with water and an a e days away from being stale piece of bread.

He was honestly surprised he was granted anything

He stared at the water until his eyes blurred. His throat ached, dry and raw, already begging for more. He knew better than to drink it all at once. He was meant to ration it, to stretch every drop. But the thought of swallowing the whole cup in one go gnawed at him.

His fingers curled into fists. Why should I have to live like this? Why do they get everything while I get nothing?

As these thoughts settled in his head he felt a rage he knew all too well. Unbeknown to him the award winning begonias his Aunt Petunia had all of a sudden wilted and turned grey

Like death itself had visited it.

The water trembled. At first Harry thought it was his vision, a trick of light in the gloom. But no—the surface rippled, as if something beneath it stirred.

Harry leaned closer, heart hammering. The trembling grew violent. The glass wobbled on the floor.

“No—stop—” he whispered, though he didn’t know who or what he was begging.

With a sharp crack, the glass toppled. Water spilled across the floor, the sound impossibly loud in the tiny cupboard. The glass shattered, fragments glittering faintly in the sliver of light from the door.

Panic surged through him. That had been his only water. His only chance.

“Please—no!” His voice broke, and something inside him snapped.

The shards lifted.

One by one, the pieces rose into the air, weightless as feathers. Harry froze, wide-eyed, as they swirled before him. With a soft click they fit themselves back together, cracks vanishing until the glass was whole again.

Harry’s hands shook. He hadn’t touched it. He hadn’t even moved.

Before he could process, the water followed. Droplets lifted from the floor in trembling spheres, hanging in the air like bubbles of liquid light. They floated, slow and graceful, before slipping back into the repaired cup as though nothing had ever happened.

Harry stared, breathless.

His chest rose and fell quickly, the silence around him suddenly too loud.

Something like that wasn't possible

Like the tricks the magician hired for Dudley's birthday had showcased

The water had listened to him. Obeyed him. He could faintly hear a song being sang, he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from as it was barely a whisper but it was there.

He pressed back against the wall, trembling. “What…what am I?”

The cupboard didn’t answer.

Harry stared at the low ceiling as if waiting for a fairy to jump out and kidnap him but nothing of the sort happened.

"What sort of trippy shit is going on"

Chapter Text

Hadrian once wondered if the profound hatred his 'family' had for him was based on the fact that biologically (according to one of Uncle Vernon's pushy friends who always seemed to stare at Hadrian in a way that made him feel sick) he 'wasn't a boy and would never be'.

Then he'd remembered that of all the beatings he'd gotten, it was never based on his gender.

His happiest memory was three years ago. Aunt Petunia had invited people from her book club over for tea, so normally Hadrian was to bring the tea set. Aunt Petunia's friends normally made fleeting comments about him so he'd learn to ignore them but one specific remark got to him.

"You're niece Hadrianne looks a bit boyish eh? you sure she's even a girl" They laughed about it and moved on to the books they'd read that year, but Hadrian was stuck on the comment. He was used to the normal sense of dysphoria when it came to his gender. He never felt he could voice out to his relatives that the thought of being a girl made him feel discomfort. 

So he stuck to refusing dresses and skirts and accepted old jeans and ragged shirts. 

He eventually did get over the fear of coming out and getting shamed and approached his aunt. She was in the garden watering some flowers, he knew some of them; hyacinths, Magnolias, baby's breaths, orchids and - as vain as it sounds- petunias. But one he didn't know.

A group of large, trumpet shaped flowers in a vibrant shade of red. She'd never let him close to them, and took pride in them. "What is it girl" His aunt Petunia asked flippantly not sparing any glances. 

Hadrian gulped and said "I don't want to be Hadrianne. I don't want to be girl, I-I hate the dresses and hate being called 'girl'. I can't explain why, I-I just can't"

Aunt Petunia dropped the hose water can she'd been holding and looked straight at Hadrian and for a second her face was conflicted like she was fighting against something and then she went blank.

Just staring at him

. He felt like she was assessing him; reading his very soul. He dearly wanted to run away and pretend he never said anything but stayed rooted in on spot awaiting a response.

After a while she did answer him. "That's OK, thank you for telling I-I know this must have been difficult to say and you trusted me with this". Overcome with emotion he'd hugged her.

Surprisingly again she didn't pull away. she awkwardly patted his head which was enough for him. "Do you have any pronouns?" He pulled away confused so she explained to him. "Most people, we refer to them as she/her or he/him. But for those who don't identify as either there's they/them or ze/zir and xe/xem. Some people have a mix like He/them or She/them. They're comfortable with whichever."

Hadrian thought about it for a while. "I don't mind He/them." she nodded and dusted off her apron from the mud that had stained her. "Then you'd better get to gardening if you wan't to get some upper body strength Hadrian"

Hadrian

He liked it. It felt right for him.

From then on Harry was given way tougher jobs to do around the house. Although Vernon would laugh and say it's what they should be doing in gratefulness as they had taken them out of the goodness of their heart, Hadrian knew why Aunt Petunia made him carry the extra boxes when ever they had bought new furniture or why was made to be running errands from the third floor down to the ground floor.

Somehow in her own way she showed she cared even it was a little bit.

It made him feel seen.