Hello, I present Unbending, my first fan fiction.
All characters are J.K. Rowling's, not mine. I just control the situation.

Finally Harry was back at the Burrow. It had taken the better part of the summer holiday to get there, but it would be worth all the struggle. He had arrived late the night before and had barely managed to swallow a small meal before almost crawling up the stairs to Ron's small attic bedroom and falling asleep halfway through pulling on his pajamas.

He woke up that morning and tossed off the covers. Looking down at his bare chest he hoped that Ron hadn't seen anything. He didn't bother to pull on a shirt as he set about gathering up his clothes for the day, throwing a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt onto his unmade bed. Just as he turned to his trunk to look for socks, the door clicked open. Harry was to busy to hear it, but he did hear the surprised gasp that followed it less than two seconds later.

"Harry! What happened?"

The skinny, messy haired boy spun around, but it was to late. The damage had been done.

"Ron!" he exclaimed. As he started to stammer an excuse that sounded lame even to him, Ron stepped in, closing the door behind him. The look of horror that crossed the tall teen's face made him flinch. Quickly giving up on his excuse, Harry snatched his discarded shirt off the bed and began to dress, mumbling a hurried "It's nothing."

"'Nothing'? That's not 'nothing', Harry! It looks like you got the bloody hell beat out of you!" Ron cried, grabbing the shirt away from him. He asked again, "What happened to you?"

Harry looked away, color rising in his face as he made a wild grab for the shirt, insisting that nothing happened. Ron stepped back and held it away from Harry, getting a good look at the green eyed teen. His arms and chest were splotchy with bruises that varied in color and intensity, ranging from pale yellows and midnight blues to dark purples and sickly greens. Small cuts littered his thin frame but they were nothing compared to his back. His back looked as if a hippogriff had gone on a rampage and Harry was the closest thing to release it's anger on. His pale skin was flayed from a myriad of long slashes, some of them so new that they had broken open in his sleep and started weeping blood. What little skin left around them was red with infection and covered in the same ugly patch work of bruises. As Ron stared open mouthed and feeling sick, Harry took his shirt back.

"Had a good look?" Harry asked quietly, holding his shirt tightly. The rage and humliation are apparent in his voice and his eyes.

Ron started, blue eyes flying up to look into emerald ones, one surrounded by the pale yellow of an previously unnoticed bruise. A hundred million questions sprang into his mind but he couldn't seem to make his mouth move beyond the same question he had already asked, "...What happened?"

Harry sighed, running a hand through his sleep messed hair and looking away again. "The Dursley's method of 'stamping out that dangerous nonsense' happened."

Ron sat down on the bed in front of his best friend and stared, mouth moving noiselessly for a minute. After a few more failed attempts at making words, the red haired teen cleared his throat and asked hoarsely, "What do you mean 'dangerous nonsense'?"

"They mean magic." Harry said with a helpless shrug.

"Magic? Magic isn't nonsense and no amount of beating is gonna change the fact that you're a wizard Harry!" Ron replied loudly, face going ashen under his freckles.

"Shush, not so loud! I know that. I've told them that, but they don't listen!" The dark haired boy made almost frantic hand motions to quiet his friend. When Ron looked like he had calmed down a bit, Harry shrugged again and hung his head, "There's nothing I can do about it, so I just deal with it."

Ron jumped up again, hissing with rage, "You 'deal with it'?" He grabbed the beaten boy's shoulders tightly and shook him a bit, "Damn it Harry! Fight back! You can't let them get away with this!"

Harry's teeth rattled as he gasped in surprise, "Let me go!" Ron released him suddenly, sending the smaller teen stumbling back a pace. Rubbing his shoulders Harry looked away and muttered, "You've seen them. They're bigger than me. There's nothing I can do, believe me I've tried. Every time anything has reminded them of what I am, Uncle Vernon and Dudley start swinging..."

Ron, still watching his friend, stopped listening to him. Hidden by the mass brusing are scars. Lots of them. More than Ron remembered seeing in their first year, which, if he thinks about it, was the only time he had ever seen Harry without a shirt. With mounting horror he interrupts, in little more than a whisper, "How long?"

"What?" The sudden question brings surprise to the scrawny teen's voice. He still hasn't looked Ron in the eye for a while.

"How long has this been going on Harry?"

When he doesn't answer, Ron grabs his shoulders again, gently this time, and watches him in concern as he starts to shake. Looking down at his feet Harry finially answers in a whisper that The red head has to strain to hear, "I've been hiding it for five years."

A/N: I know you've heard it before, but please review. I want to know if I've got what it takes to finish this. Let me know where I could improve or if you liked it.
Thanks for reading!