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Hugo hates the boy's dorm. The other boys leave their things everywhere, just dropped on the floor or over their trunks to be forgotten. It's- he hates it. He hates them. His housemates are slovenly jerks. And what's worse is they act like they're all good friends already. They keep slapping his shoulder or messing with his hair or teasing him like they've known him their whole lives.
And they leave. Their. Things. Everywhere.
A week in, he comes back to the dorm and there is a shirt thrown over his trunk. Hugo stares at it, his heart in his throat. It's not his shirt (of course it isn't, all his dirty, filthy clothes get put in their basket for the house elves to take care of) it's not his shirt but it's touching his trunk, his things, and it's covered in someone else's sweat and skin flakes and germs and- and-
He wishes Mum had let him bring his gloves to school. His hands feel naked and vulnerable without them. The shirt is touching his trunk- he's going to have to touch it, move it, then clean the trunk, wash his hands- and Merlin, if it touches anything else, he'll have to change clothes and...
Hugo shivers a little. He swallows down the lump in his throat and steps forward. He is the son of Gryffindors, of heroes, he can do this. His hand is shaking when he reaches out to pick the thing up and he can feel the germs transferring to his skin, eating their way inside. He throws the shirt into the laundry bin as fast as he can but it's gross, it's so gross, his skin is crawling. He pulls out his wand and casts a scourgify and it hurts with the force he put into it, leaves his hand rubbed raw pink, but that's better. That helps. He casts it again on the trunk and then he goes into the bathroom and washes his hands with water and soap. Washes again, a third time, and then a fourth. The tension in his chest lessons a little each time. The gross feeling starts to settle. He's okay. He's got this.
He wants to go home. He wants Grandma Molly to teach him everything like normal and he hates, hates, hates the dorm.
The next week is better. He's not used to the mess in any way, shape, or form, but he's getting better at hiding it as long as no one messes with his part of the room. Rose only tugs him aside once to see how he's doing. He feels proud about that because he's already eleven and he's supposed to be learning to take care of himself now and if she only asks once, then he must be doing a good job at it.
The third week, while he's out walking with Lily after classes, Rex Higgins comes out of nowhere, dive-bombing Hugo to the ground and laughing the whole way.
"Sorry, Weasley!" Higgins chirps as he rolls off Hugo and goes bounding on back to the rough game the rest of his dorm mates are playing with some of the older kids. Lily helps him up but Hugo nearly heaves. He's dirty, his clothes are a mess, it's on his skin and in his hair and in his mouth and he's going to throw up. He's going to die. Hugo whimpers low in his throat as Lily curls her arm around his shoulders and leads him inside.
"It's okay, we're almost to the dorm, it's okay," she murmurs the whole way but before she can get him back to his house, they run into Professor Sprout.
"What on earth happened?" she asks and there is clear concern in her voice and Hugo doesn't want to tell her, he doesn't want anyone to know. It's bad enough that he has to get through her class with his teeth grit tight and he’s always late to Care of Magical Creatures after because he needs to clean up, and she's so very nice to him and-
"Some idiot pushed him down. I'm taking him to get cleaned up," Lily replies and Hugo loves her so much, she knows just what to do.
"Take a trip over to see Madam Pomfrey if you're hurt," Professor Sprout replies with a gentle understanding. "And come to me if it continues to be a problem, all right?"
Hugo makes himself nod and then they're off again. Lily doesn't let go until they get up to his dorm. She helps him out of his clothes so he touches the dirt as little as possible and then sets to spelling them clean as Hugo runs to the showers. The shaky disgust and fear in his chest starts to lessen the moment water hits him. He scrubs his skin hard until the feeling goes away and he's clean. He's clean, it's okay. It's gone. He's fine.
Hugo dries off and wraps the towel around his waist. Lily hands over his cleaned clothes and he stares over them to make sure he can't see dirt. Lily's good at this, though, the way all his siblings are; he can trust her. Mom said and all the other parents confirmed it. She smiles when he starts tugging his shirt on, then waits out in the common room for him.
When he finally comes back out, she's leaning over two of his housemates, watching them play chess and making catty comments about their play style, the way she would have if any of their siblings were playing. He's pretty sure they have no idea what to do with her and they look relieved when he comes to retrieve her. Lily throws a parting shot as they leave.
Six weeks in, one of his housemates catches him washing his hands. Jean Gribley is an older boy with a haggard sort of look to him and eyes of a kicked dog. Hugo likes him okay but Jean doesn't say much and usually doesn't even register on his attention. He's in the second floor boy's bathroom, washing his hands, when Jean strides in to do his thing. And when he's finished, Hugo's still working on his ritual. He can't help it, the slimy feeling is still there, and he's counting seconds in his head before he can try more soap.
"Are you messed up or something?"
Hugo stiffens and turns to stare at him, keeping his hands safely under the water. Jean glances at them and then to Hugo's face, his brows furrowed and forming a line between them, and Hugo feels a sudden dread. "What?"
"Messed up. Like in your head," Jean elaborates, tapping his temple as if Hugo could miss what he meant. "Whatchacall it, like a germfreak?"
He has no idea how to answer that. Hugo's heart pounds. Jean scrutinizes him a bit. Then he just shrugs and leaves the bathroom. Hugo stares after him as his face reddens with embarrassment. He draws his hands out from under the stream and dries them even though the slimy feeling is still there and he feels choked, but he doesn't want to be a freak. His family has never called him that, he didn't... He's not, he's...
He tries not to think about it and manages not to wash his hands again for nearly half an hour.
His hands are a mess. The skin is dry and peeling around his fingernails and he's developing blisters. He doesn't know why and he's starting to get more and more nervous about someone noticing. Hugo sends a letter home asking for his gloves. Mum writes back that he needs to get along without them.
"Please," he begs James before the upper years go to Hogsmeade. "Please just get me a pair."
James lifts a brow and shrugs. "Okay, okay, I'll find you something. You doing okay, buddy? You don't look so good."
"I'm okay," Hugo tells him because he is, or he will be, as soon as he doesn't have to touch anything anymore. James frowns like he wants to say more, but then one of his friends calls for him, so he goes on with them. Hugo spends the rest of the day fretting in the dorm and waiting for him to get back. The moment James hands the soft leather gloves to him, Hugo pulls them on and feels ten times better.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" James says and Hugo nods, he knows, but James presses, "About anything, okay? If someone's hassling you or you're having trouble with anything, you come to me."
"I will," Hugo promises. He's not sure why James doesn't look happy with that but James lets it go.
Middle of November, Hugo gets invited to play ball with a group of muggleborn housemates. He's not sure but he's been trying to be friendly with them because most of them have tried to do the same. Atticus Peck explains the rules and they start up. Almost immediately, things get rough. Mary Scout knocks Jonas Giver out of the way as she gets control of the ball and makes for the goal and Jean nearly plows right into Hugo on his way after her. It's too late to beg out of the game so Hugo does his best just to stay out of anyone's way.
And then the ball comes at him. And so does the other team. Hugo can't move.
Bigger bodies ram him, knocking him back, and he hits the ground hard but the momentum sends him rolling. Water splashes up around him as he falls into the lake right at the drop off to the deeper depths. It's freezing cold and dark with silt and Hugo immediately panics. He frantically tries to surface but everything is wrong and-
Hands seize him drag him up to the surface. The moment his head surfaces, he's gulping down air and water both as his savior brings him over to the edge. Albus is shivering as hard as he is but Hugo clutches to him as Albus drags them both up to the edge, Hugo's housemates helping get him on out of the water. He hears Jean cast a warming charm and it takes the bite off the cold but he's soaked and dirty and it's in his mouth, he swallowed water, he's infested with the filth in it. Albus gets him on his feet but Hugo's shaking so hard with the horror of what's happened that he can barely walk and Albus isn't much bigger than he is. After a second of stumbling, Atticus gets an arm under Hugo's shoulders and Hugo hangs tight to his neck as the older boy helps him.
"What wrong?" Atticus grits out along the way, worry easy to hear in his voice. "Did they hit you that hard?"
Hugo's teeth are chattering and he's shaking so bad, Merlin it's in him, it's in him, he's filthy-
"It's personal," Albus tries but Atticus glares at him.
"Not anymore it's not! You know I'm a prefect, right? I'm supposed to be looking after him."
Albus groans and Hugo is so embarrassed, mortified even through his utter disgust. He doesn't want to say it but he needs to, he needs to get- "Shower. Shower, I need to- it's all over me- oh Merlin, I'm going to hurl-"
"Not on me you aren't," Atticus replies blandly and steers them to the closest bathroom. Hugo heaves and his stomach empties and he still feels so miserably dirty. He tries to scourgify but can't make the word come out right so Albus does it but Albus isn't as good as Lily and Hugo still feels it all over him, soaked in, he feels like he's going to die.
When he's not heaving anymore, Atticus ignores Albus' protests and drags him on out towards the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey takes one look at him and then shoos both Albus and Atticus away so she can take care of him. She dries his clothes with an offhand word and checks him for wounds when he's too shaken to tell her what's wrong.
For a moment, she looks utterly confused. Then she sees his hands. She looks at his face. She lets him use the patient shower to wash until he feels clean again on the outside.
Hugo wants to throw up until his insides hurt, but nothing comes back and he's just a shaking wreck. He doesn't know how long he stays. There are fresh clothes for him to change into when he gets out from under the stream. Eventually, he manages to leave the bathroom and Harry is waiting for him with Madam Pomfrey. Hugo can't look at him. He's so embarrassed, so ashamed, and everything about him is so very wrong.
"Hey," Harry says gently. "How about you and me go somewhere and talk, okay?"
Hugo doesn't answer. Not until Harry holds out a pair of gloves. His gloves. Hugo jerks them on so fast that he gets two fingers in one bit and has to redo it twice. He's still wretched and shaky, but this is better. This is so much better.
Harry guides him out of the school and they walk to Hogsmeade together. Hugo sneaks glances up at him, trying to figure out what Harry's thinking. They don't go in anywhere, instead finding a nice bench off away from the main streets in a quieter area. Harry sits down after doing a quiet cleaning charm and Hugo eases in next to him.
"I'm sorry," Hugo blurts out immediately.
Harry glances at him. "For what?"
"For being weird and making you come and-"
"It's okay." Harry doesn't move to touch him, knowing how he can be when he's wound up, but he does smile soft and gentle. "Hugo, look at me. It's okay."
Slowly, Hugo manages to look up at him. He swallows thickly. "But if it's okay, how come Mum didn't come?"
Harry blinks a little, seems almost stunned by the question. And then he looks something else that makes Hugo’s chest tighten up further, but Harry turns away before Hugo can figure out what. "I could call her, if you like? I just thought... Well, I was able to go right away when Poppy called, so... But I'll get her instead."
"No, no, no, don't!" Hugo grabs Harry's hand before he can pull his wand. "It's okay. I don't- I didn't mean to make trouble-"
"Oh Hugo." Harry looks so sad. "You're not trouble at all. You’re my kid. This is... We should have been more considerate of you. Instead, we just booted you off to school and told you to shape up and that wasn't fair."
"But-"
"It's not your fault." Harry takes Hugo's gloved hands in his, petting over them. "When James told us he'd gotten you new gloves, we should have come talk to you then. We didn't know it was this bad. Next time, please tell us when something’s wrong. Okay?"
Hugo ducks his head. His throat is tight and he still feels sick from the lake, but he nods.
"Can I hug you?" Harry asks softly and he waits until Hugo nods again before he curls his arms around him tight. Harry holds on only a few moments, only touching Hugo's clothes, and then releases. "I'm going to talk to your Mum and the others tonight and then I'll have her come up and tell you what the plan is. Okay?"
"Okay." His voice is rough and quiet but Harry just smiles at him.
"You're such a good boy, Hugo, and we love you so much," he murmurs and that makes Hugo feel better even though he doesn't believe it.
Hugo starts seeing a muggle doctor twice a month. And it helps. It helps a lot.
He puts away his gloves for the final time in fourth year.