Harry awoke with a start. His brow was covered in sweat and his heart was racing. His breathing was ragged and sharp. His hand had instinctively grasped his wand, which was positioned underneath his pillow. Sitting up, he pushed himself against his pillows and tried to compose himself. Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, Harry noted that it was a little after two in the morning.

There was a cool breeze wafting in through the open window. Harry remembered leaving it open after letting Hedwig out for the night. He half expected her to be back by now, a dead mouse in her beak, expecting praise. However, there was no owl in the room. It was eerily quiet apart from the soft snores coming from Dudley's room.

Harry's wand ignited without him even saying the spell. The soft wand-light bathed his room, but there was nothing out of place. His school trunk was open and laying underneath the open window. His wardrobe door was still open. Harry could see his school robes hanging up and briefly wondered if they still fit him properly.

Shaking his head, he tried to ignore the panicky feeling in his chest and the fear at the possibility of a Dementor attack. After the previous summer, Harry wouldn't put it past Voldemort to send a hundred Dementors after him this time.

However, there were no Dementors. Nothing stirred and Harry was relatively safe. Something then caught Harry's attention. Something had just flown across the moon's rays. It was small, but Harry's innate Quidditch skill didn't exactly switch off. He tracked it as it came closer, eventually realising that Hedwig was returning from her hunt. Harry became confused after Hedwig soared into the room without a mouse or frog in her mouth, but a small note tied to her leg.

He padded over to her, untied the note and softly stroked her head.

'What's this, girl?' Harry whispered. 'I thought you went hunting.'

She softly clicked her beak at him and blinked her amber eyes up at him. Harry, meanwhile, had extinguished his wand-light and turned on his lamp. He opened the note and immediately recognised Hermione's writing.

'Dear Harry,' he read aloud, in a hushed whisper to Hedwig. 'I hope you're well and that your family is treating you well. I thought that I would keep you up to date with news from me this summer. I can't tell you where I am, but I am recovering nicely from what happened at the Ministry...'

Harry paused as his guilt washed over him for a second. After a moment, he continued.

'I'm taking five potions a day, but Madam Pomfrey has told me that I should be fully cured by the end of the week,' Harry continued. 'Ron and Ginny are fine. They would have written earlier, but we've been fairly busy. I'm nearly finished with all my homework. I must say, I rather enjoyed the Transfiguration essay. How are you getting along?

I've asked certain people about how much longer you have to be with your relatives. I've been told that it shouldn't be too much longer. I hope you know that if you need to talk, I'll always be there for you Harry. Lots of love. Hermione.'

Harry reread the letter, to himself this time, and managed to work out that Hermione was at the Burrow with Ron and Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys. He did grin at the part about Hermione enjoying her Transfiguration homework. Grabbing a spare piece of parchment, Harry loaded up his quill and prepared to write a response.

'Dear Hermione,' he muttered as he etched words onto the parchment. 'I'm glad to hear that you're getting better. Things are okay here. The Dursleys don't seem to want to talk to me or even notice me. Nothing new there. It's actually been a nice change...'

Harry paused. He wasn't sure that he wanted to tell her that he was having nightmares every night. Most of them involved Sirius, but recently replays of Hermione being nearly killed by Dolohov's curse haunted him too. If he was being honest, he wasn't okay. Far from it. Sirius falling through the veil haunted him every time he closed his eyes. Hermione's gasp after being hit by the curse rang in his ears over and over if he was surround by silence. Even the respites weren't really helpful. Imagines of Ron being attacked by the brains, Ginny's broken ankle and Neville's broken nose haunted him.

He had tried to take solace in his room, but this only made things worse. Instead, he tried to go for long walks to clear his head, but that didn't work. He was starting to get headaches worse than when Voldemort had been trying to penetrate his mind all of the previous school year. Shaking his head, he decided to concentrate on his response.

'I haven't even started the Transfiguration essay yet,' he muttered to himself as he scribbled. 'I've done the Charms essay, but want to do the Herbology one before I start on McGonagall's homework. I know that I can always talk to you if I need to Hermione. Thank you. I can't wait to leave this place and be with you all. Harry.'

Harry reread his response and nodded. It glossed over his feelings, which he really didn't want to talk about, but still gave her an answer for most of the things she asked about. He rolled it up, tied it to Hedwig's leg and carried her over to the window. After a moment's pressure, she took off from his shoulder and flew off into the night, where she was quickly swallowed by the darkness.

Making his way back over to his desk, Harry knew that sleep wouldn't come to him again that night. Grumbling slightly, he grabbed his Herbology textbook and opened it to the correct chapter. He scanned it, just to make sure that he was familiar with the subject of his essay, and grabbed a roll of parchment.

Reloading his quill with ink, he began to write. Harry found a little relief in writing the essay. The scratching of the quill was enough to stop him from hearing Hermione, and his mind was too preoccupied with the essay to dwell on Sirius or his friends. In the brief pauses, while he dipped his quill in ink, he would hear Hermione and see Sirius falling through the veil while his eyes blinked shut for a millisecond.

Harry became so engrossed in his essay that he didn't notice the lightening of the sky, or the fading of the light from his lamp. He continued to write more and more, until eventually finishing. Taking out a tape-measure, he checked the length of his essay. Professor Sprout had told them that it was to be at least fifteen inches long. Harry's essay was over twenty. Slightly surprised, he rolled it up and put it next to his Charms essay on the top of the chest of drawers.

As he turned to his window, he saw Hedwig flying towards him, another small note attached to his leg. As she swept into the room, he offered her arm. She gracefully arced over to him and landed with expert tenderness. As she stuck out her leg, Harry disentangled the note. Now free from her burden, Hedwig flew into her cage and decided to take a long deserved nap.

Harry opened the note and only saw four words.

How are the nightmares?

Harry stared at it for a second. It was Hermione's writing. He would recognise her neat script anywhere. But, he hadn't mentioned nightmares in his reply to her first note, so those four words confused him. How could she have known or worked it out?

'You didn't snitch on me did you?' Harry asked the sleeping owl.

There was a sharp rap on his door.

'Who are you talking to?' It was the sharp voice of his Aunt Petunia.

'Nobody,' Harry said back. 'Just thinking out loud.'

'Stop it,' Petunia snapped. 'I don't want any of the neighbours to know about your...'

Her voice had trailed off, and Harry sighed.

'Yes Aunt Petunia,' he said. Harry swore that he could have heard her huff, but then he heard her slowly descend the stairs.

Sighing, Harry opened his bedroom door and made his way into the bathroom. It was a Sunday and he knew that breakfast always preceded the obligatory ablutions of the Dursley family. He switched on the shower, made sure the door was locked, undressed and stepped under the hot water. Harry felt a little bit of relief as he felt the water cascade over his body. Scars littered his body like trash in a park. Inwardly, he wondered how much more he would be gawped at if people knew just how many scars he had.

Harry had always managed to keep the sight of his scarred body from his friends and dorm-mates at Hogwarts. He either changed in the bathroom or with the curtains shut around his four-poster bed. He had an inkling Ron might have caught a glance at a couple of them, but he had never said anything.

He looked down at some of them. Some had come from cuts he had sustained on the Quidditch pitch or from accidents in lessons. They were minor, small, insignificant. Harry looked down at his right wrist and grimaced. The scar there was a constant reminder that Wormtail had taken his blood in order to help resurrect Lord Voldemort to his former self. Not that he needed reminding. Madam Pomfrey had tried to repair the damage, but Harry supposed that it was a cursed blade and the scar wouldn't ever fade. He shook himself and grabbed the soap.

Quickly washing and rinsing clear his body, he switched off the shower and grabbed a towel to dry himself. Suddenly there was a thumping on the door.

'Hurry up boy,' Vernon Dursley barked through the wood.

'I'm coming out,' Harry said. He was slightly damp, but he pulled his clothes back on and quickly towel-dried his hair, before unlocking the door.

Immediately, he was brushed aside by Uncle Vernon's massive, bulky frame. Harry scooted out of the room and back into his bedroom, where he changed into fresh clothes. The note from Hermione was still on his desk. It caught and held Harry's attention. He still had no idea how she had managed to work out that he was having nightmares.

Deciding to play dumb with the brightest witch of her age, Harry scribbled a quick reply under her question and folded up the parchment. He gently nudged Hedwig awake, who looked thoroughly annoyed at the interruption. Harry tied the note to her leg. Disgruntled, the snowy owl hooted reproachfully at him before taking off out of the window.

Harry watched Hedwig fly away. It was only as she flew beyond his eyesight did he consider that his reply was a bit foolish.

'What nightmares,' Harry muttered to himself. 'Why did I ever think that was a good idea?'

Hermione's reply was swift. It was a little after lunchtime when Hedwig returned. Harry was reading Quidditch Through The Ages, for the umpteenth time, when she soared into the room, dropped the envelope onto his lap, and flew back into her cage. She angrily clicked her beak at him, took a drink of water and went back to sleep.

Slightly, and oddly, apprehensive, Harry unfurled Hermione's envelope and leapt back in horror.

'Harry James Potter!' Hermione's shriek filled the room. It was a howler. 'How dare you try to play dumb with me! I know you're having nightmares! How dare you lie to me! You're lucky I'm not there to hex you into oblivion! For the last time, you don't have to keep everything bottled up! We are here to help you Harry...'

'What is that infernal racket?' Uncle Vernon thundered, bursting into the room. His voice died in his throat and his face went white as he saw the envelope continue to scream at Harry.

'We love you Harry Potter! We need to know you're safe! Your time with your relatives is short! You might want to pray to Merlin that you stay with them until September the first, because if you lie to me again, I will personally curse you and turn you into a slug!'

The envelope exploded into flames, leaving only tiny wisps of smoke and ash in the air.

'What the hell was that?' Uncle Vernon hissed dangerously.

'A Howler,' Harry sighed. 'Just like what Aunt Petunia got last summer.'

'Who is writing to you?' Uncle Vernon demanded. 'You're not to be communicating with any of your lot. I won't have it!'

'It's not my fault,' Harry countered. 'She sent it to me!'

'You're in contact with freaks like you!' Vernon thundered, stomping towards Harry, his fist clenched and raised.

Harry stood his ground.

'What are you going to do?' Harry asked. 'Hit me? If I'm in contact with my people, what will I tell them next?'

The thinly veiled threat succeeded in stopping Vernon Dursley in his tracks, while he pondered the possible outcomes. Harry's Godfather was a dangerous murderer after all.

'You'll be spending the rest of your time here, under the stairs!' Vernon snarled at Harry. 'That ruddy owl will have to go too.'

As Uncle Vernon stomped over towards Hedwig a lot of things happened in quick succession. Harry's hand flew to his wand. There was a flash of bright light and three loud cracks.

'Argh!' Vernon bellowed as a bolt of light hit him in the back.

Harry blinked. His wand wasn't pointing at Uncle Vernon. But, now the room was a lot more crowded. Tonks, Kingsley and Mr Weasley were in the room too. Tonks' wand was raised, pointed straight at Uncle Vernon who was prone on the floor.

Mr Weasley looked apoplectic with rage. His wand shook in his hand, the tip aimed directly at Uncle Vernon. Kingsley raised his hand and grabbed Mr Weasley's wrist.

'He's unconscious Arthur,' Kingsley said, his voice as measured as ever. 'Harry is out of danger. Tonks help Harry pack his things.'

Tonks waved her wand and Harry's possessions flew into the air, before tumbling haphazardly into his trunk. The clothes in his wardrobe unhooked themselves and flew into the trunk too. After a few seconds, the trunk lid closed and locked itself, leaving Harry, Tonks, Mr Weasley, Kingsley and Hedwig in a spartan bedroom. Kingsley grabbed the top of Hedwig's cage and disapparated. Mr Weasley disapparated too, before Tonks grabbed Harry's arm.

He didn't protest, as shock still had him in it's grasp. Harry felt the tightening around his body and the sensation of being pushed through a tube, and the lack of oxygen before his surroundings instantly changed to reveal the Burrow.

Silently, Harry was guided into the house by Tonks, who had charmed his trunk to levitate behind her. Harry stepped into the house and saw the entire Weasley family, minus Percy, sat around the kitchen table. Hermione was standing by the sink, a stony expression on her face.

Harry blinked. His mind finally became unstuck and started to process the world in realtime. There was a letter open on the table. Harry could see a logo at the top of it. Mr Weasley stood up and looked at Harry.

'Tell me,' he said. His voice was solid, but Harry could hear the anger threaten to waver it. 'Tell me how long he has been hitting you.'

Harry didn't say anything.

'Dammit Harry!' Mr Weasley roared, his fist pounding the table. 'Tell me!'

Harry looked at the older man.

'It doesn't matter,' Harry said. 'He hasn't hit me since he found out about Sirius being my Godfather.'

Ron looked slightly sick. Hermione's face was unreadable. Ginny looked as if she wanted to cry. Mrs Weasley made to stand up, but Mr Weasley gave her a sharp look and she sat down. Fred and George both looked ashamed. It was as if they felt it was their fault.

'When did it start?' Arthur asked.

'It doesn't matter,' Harry started to reply.

'Of course it matters!' Harry had expected the words to come from Mr Weasley, not Mrs Weasley. 'We care about you Harry.'

'I know,' Harry said doggedly. 'I know you care for me...'

'Why did you lie to me,' Hermione asked quietly.

The room was tense, but Hermione's words seemed to have made it worse. It was as if none of them were breathing, as they awaited his response.

'I didn't lie,' Harry said.

'Yes you did,' Ron said. 'We know you have nightmares Harry.'

'That was because Voldemort...' Nearly everyone winced. 'Was trying to get inside my mind.'

'Harry,' Hermione said. 'I knew you were having nightmares. It's normal to after losing a loved one.'

'How would you know?' Harry spat coldly. He instantly regretted it. He didn't know where it had come from.

Hermione looked shocked, then hurt. Her face, almost instantly, became unreadable again. She slowly walked up to him.

'I didn't mean...'

SLAP!

His cheek stung from her blow.

'How dare you!' Hermione shrieked. 'How dare you Harry James Potter! How do I know? How do I know? I'll tell you how! I have nightmares every time you're in the Hospital Wing! Every God-damn time you're hurt, I have nightmares. I might not have had a relative die, but I have nightmares whenever you're seriously hurt and close to death!'

'Hermione...' Harry started but she cut him off with another slap.

The sound reverberated around the kitchen. Ron stood up and walked over to her, as her hand rose up again.

'Hermione,' he said softly, but she shrugged him off.

'Don't you dare... Don't you ever say that you're not loved,' Hermione hissed. 'I love you. We love you. Sirius loved you...'

'And he's dead,' Harry roared back. 'Because of me!'

'No he's not!' Hermione shrieked back.

Ron, Ginny, Fred and George all shrunk backwards. Ron and Hermione's arguments were a common occurrence at school, but Harry and Hermione had never argued, except for that time in third year, but they had never descended into a shouting match. This seemed different to Ron and Hermione's arguing. It carried more than a hint of danger about it.

'Yes he is Hermione,' Harry snarled. 'It's my fault he's dead. If I hadn't have gone to the Ministry...'

'Oh, I'm sorry,' Hermione said sarcastically. 'I must have dreamt that you weren't alone in going.'

'I was stupid enough to believe Voldemort!' Harry bellowed, ignoring everyone's wincing. 'It's my fault he died! It's my fault you nearly died too! It's my fault Ron got attacked by the brains and Ginny got a broken leg...'

Tears were starting to fall and his voice was breaking from the pain and anger.

'And Neville got a broken nose and wand! It's my fault that Cedric died. It's my fault that my parents...'

His throat tightened as his tears enveloped him. He sank to his knees, sobbing and weeping. Hermione knelt down next to him and wordlessly pulled him into a hug. She held onto him as he cried. His moans and gasps were feral and inhuman. Ron wanted to leave and let Harry grieve in private. Hermione was shushing him, rocking from side to side, holding him. His tears wetted her t-shirt, but she didn't care. His fingers grabbed at her shoulders and upper arms, holding them tight. Ron knelt down beside them and wrapped them both in his long arms. Harry continued to hold onto Hermione for dear life, as if she were a buoy in a turbulent sea, and she reciprocated with just as much verve and fierceness.

Ron noticed that tears were starting to fall down her cheeks as she tried to console Harry. He saw her bite her lip as she held him. Mrs Weasley made to join them, but Ron found his mother's gaze and shook his head. Harry maybe an honorary member of the Weasley family, but he had still refused to tell them his secrets. In fact, Ron had the nasty suspicion that Hermione was the first person to break through his barriers.

Hours may have passed, but Ron suddenly realised that the kitchen was a lot less crowded than before. Kingsley was gone, as was Tonks. Fred, George and Ginny were nowhere to be seen and Mr Weasley was drinking a cup of tea at the table, watching them.

'What happened?'

'You three were in your own little zone,' Mr Weasley sighed. 'Kingsley and Tonks went home, and your brothers went back to their shop. Ginny is in bed. Your mother...'

'I'm right here,' she said, walking back into the room.

Harry had finally stopped crying, but he hadn't let go or loosened his grip on Hermione.

'It's gone midnight,' Mr Weasley observed. 'Why don't you three go up to bed?'

Ron nodded and slowly cajoled Harry to his feet, Hermione following him all the way. Slowly, but surely, Ron and Hermione guided their grieving friend up the narrow staircase and up into his room. Harry wouldn't let go of Hermione. Harry merely sat on the edge of Ron's bed and held Hermione to him.

'Tell you what,' Ron said. 'You two take my bed, and I'll kip on Harry's.'

'What?' Hermione asked softly, but Ron slowly manoeuvred Harry into a laying down position on the bed, with Hermione next to him. Ron took off his shirt and awkwardly lay down on Harry's camp bed.

'Night,' Ron said as he turned out the light.

Harry and Hermione lay in Ron's bed, still holding to each other, as sleep slowly drifted over them.