𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕠𝕪 // 𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪

𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

(trigger warning? i think)

As soon as Harry unlocked the front door, he knew it was going to be one of those days. His father was agitated, incredibly so, and that usually meant Harry would end the night feeling like a complete screw-up.

It didn't help that today had been unusually negative at school—he'd gotten a terrible grade on a test he was sure he'd ace, the girl he'd been courting for weeks had shown absolutely no sign that she felt the same, and to top it off his teacher had finally snapped and given him a week of lunch detention for sharing one too many "inappropriate comments"—so he held his breath and quickly dashed for the stairs, hoping to avoid the unnecessary spite from his father. Blessedly, the man paid no mind to his arrival and continued to speak angrily into his phone, probably to another one of his uncooperative clients.

Frankly, Harry was surprised his father had any clients left.

Once in his room, he threw his backpack to the ground and collapsed on his bed, feeling the memory foam cave under his weight. He had plenty of unfinished assignments and upcoming exams looming over his head, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it, not now when he'd finally gotten comfortable. Sinking fully into his mattress, the tension in his muscles began to slip away instantly, and soon, his breathing had evened out and he was on his way to a much-needed rest.

-

He was eventually woken up by the sound of harsh footsteps on laminated wood, and before he fully realised what was going on, his father had flung open his bedroom door practically fuming, smacking the doorknob fiercely into an already visible dent in the wall.

"Where are you, you piece of—"

Harry startled, eyes frightfully wide as he scrambled into a sitting position, and he immediately regretted it when his father's face flushed an even darker red as he realised Harry had been sleeping. He stormed over to him, grasping a piece of paper in a crushing grip.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harry could almost see the steam coming out his ears and he desperately wished this would end.

"I, u-uh, I was," he gulped nervously, his sluggish state hindering his usual quick wit, and whispered, "I was napping."

"You were what?! I don't have time to waste on your mumbling, boy."

"I said, I was taking a nap!" he shouted, annoyance building quickly like it always seemed to do in his father's presence.

"Get up."

"What?"

Instead of getting an explanation, he felt a sharp pain in his ear as his father pinched into his sensitive skin, attempting to pull him up from the bed by a bit of cartilage. Harry yelped, using his own legs to stand fully to cease the pain.

"What is this?" His father promptly shoved the piece of paper he'd been clutching in his face, and Harry tried to step away to actually read the writing when he realised he was backed up against a wall.

"I can't—"

"You want to know what this is?" his father was yelling now, pressing the paper roughly into Harry's chest. Harry grabbed the paper and his heart sank. He didn't know the school would be sending them this early.

"It's my report card," he muttered, keeping his head down to hide from his father's furious eyes.

"No, it's the report card of a fucking failure!" he seethed. "I didn't waste all this time raising you to have a deadbeat for a son. Get your shit together, do you hear me?"