Thanks to aalens for beta-ing for this chapter for me.^_^ My story would've been horrible if not for her. THANK YOU AALENS!

"Hear Me Cry"

Warning explicit language and mild abuse scenes…enjoy

Harry Potter is slave-driven at the Dursley's and the neglect of family love has broken Harry down. However there are more people who pay attention to Harry's well-being than he realizes. When Harry returns to Hogwarts he is tormented about his Muggle relatives. Only one unexpected person is reluctant to treat him this way and perhaps treat him as an equal. But Who?

Chapter One

The pain was so shocking, so fierce he could not scream over it. The black abyss plummeted into his chest. It smothered his lungs so he couldn't breathe, couldn't move. The pressure pushed and pushed the air out. He tried to gasp for air but the pain was too much, and the fear was far beyond the pain. Out there he could hear the voices. Screaming, shouting in agony. He could hear them. Who were they? Unfamiliar voices.

Worse than screaming…laughing.

Who? Who was it?

The sudden green light was blinding and then the wild screams that burst in his head silenced. Sudden knocking filled his head. Make it stop! Make it stop!

Harry!' a shrill voice screeched, and then there was a smart rapping on Harry's door.

'Harry get up! Now!' Petunia said with a final bang. Inside the room Harry woke with a start. His hands clutched reflexively, grasping the blankets of his bed. He gasped, part of him was still in the dream, still screaming.

He slowly got up, scratched his scalp, and smoothed back his tangled hair.

Harry retreated from the comfort of his bed. Shuffling his feet from his bed, and across the room, he snatched a clean pair of jeans and a black oversized t-shirt from his drawers. Shutting them hastily he gave a morning greeting to an empty owl cage by his window, and opened the door. He was sharply ordered to take a shower by a shrill voice from the kitchen, which he gladly obeyed. It has been a whole week since his last shower this summer. He rarely took a shower every day. Harry felt so greasy and dirty from doing repeated yard work in the Dursleys' backyard.

For instance, he was ordered to weed the gardens, plucking prickled pests from the loamy soil. He had to mow both lawns. He'd take the ladder out to clean the windows top to bottom, even the basement window that was only six-inches off the ground around the back. Then after the windows, he had to climb onto the roof and clear the gutters, sweep the walkway with a broken broom, trim the hedges with dull cutters, repaint the flaking gate, and finally wash the company car from Uncle Vernon's drill company. Even though it was placed in Vernon's ownership, Harry took care of it more than the fat man of the house ever could. He dusted the car, he vacuumed the floor, he waxed the finish and sometimes he even blew it a kiss good night before going in to cook supper.

Harry reached back, grabbed the back of the t-shirt and pulled it off his shoulders, and then he removed his pants and boxers. Harry admired himself. Harry wondered upon how big he was compared to Ron or Fred or even Malfoy; but Harry never could imagine himself asking Ron to drop his drawers and compare sizes, and Harry knew Voldemort would dress up in a pink tu-tu and dance the Nutcracker before he would ever ask Malfoy to compare sizes. However, it was something to think about.

He turned on the shower and stepped into the warm water. The water felt soothing against his skin, like a warm massage in the morning. The water gently kneeded his tense shoulders. He kneaded his scalp with Aunt Petunia's shampoo, the gentle scent of roses swept his nose. Harry reached for the bar of soap on the shower caddy and began to lather his body with suds. The small bubbles quickly slithered down his wet skin. Then he slowly massaged his stomach in slow circular motions, gently lathering his abdomen, bit-by-bit massaging lower and faster. Suddenly the soap slipped out of his hand. He stretched to the floor and clutched the soap tightly.

Fwhooosh…

Blistering hot water burst out of the shower. Cursing loudly, Harry leapt out of the tub, landing on a big soft helicopter pad. At least that's what Harry thought it was, since he saw a shirt with the letter 'H' on it.

Unfortunately, the helicopter pad happened to be Dudley, who screamed at the top of his lungs. Vernon came charging into the bathroom to find a naked Harry in a headlock in Dudley's arms. Vernon yelled with anger. Dudley tried to explain his deliberate attack in an innocent tone, but seeing what really was going on, Vernon reluctantly had to punish his son. Vernon led a whining Dudley out of the bathroom, pinched by the ear, winded as a rhinoceros and purple as a plum.

Harry sighed with relief. Vernon got mad at Dudley instead of at him for once. Seeing the mirror was misty now, Harry turned off the shower and grabbed his boxers again, but he had a few more minutes to himself yet. Harry folded down his boxers again …

'Petunia the boy knew that Potter was in the shower.' Vernon huffed, slamming the table. 'He will be punished!'

'I know sweety, but aren't you being harsh on the boy?' said Petunia, friskily trying to flatten the table cloth that had wrinkled at Vernon's out-raged beating.

'No I'm not!' He faced his son, shaking a fat sausage-like finger at him. 'Dudley you are to have no dessert this evening and for the rest of the week you'll not go out at all'. Dudley looked like he was constipated, trying to understand his "punishment". He always looked constipated when he was given a "punishment". His parents rarely gave him one, and he never understood the term "grounded" until he was locked up in his room with bared windows.'DO-YOU-UNDERSTAND-DUDLEY?' Vernon said slowly. It frustrated him that the Potter boy was greasy and dirty all week and to have his shower interrupted was stupid, because the boy would then be dirty for another week.

Dudley nodded.

'Now apologize to Potter when he comes down' Then Vernon walked stiffly to the den, sat down and watched the morning news. He commented on the weather, the morning rush hour and Harry. 'Where is he anyway? He's supposed to make break-". Petunia gave him a plate of bacon blessed with sheen, eggs steaming with delight and a tall glass of cold orange juice on a TV dinner table. 'Remember it's his day off' Petunia said softly. 'Now eat' Then she left to get her own breakfast.

'Mummy I want breakfast' Dudley demanded.

'Here sweety', said his mother with a forced smile, serving her son with his grapefruit halves. Dudley frowned so deeply his five chins touched his chest. He reluctantly snatched up his spoon and shovelled in his grapefruit.

'Harry Potter!' Petunia shrieked. 'Get down here and eat!'

Harry gasped as he released his inner power, gasping for air, and sweating heavily. He stood up, and he fully dressed himself again. I seriously need to get laid Harry thought to himself, washing his hands. He went downstairs, skipping the third step and bounded into the kitchen, making Petunia jump.

'Harry don't ever do that again!' Vernon shouted angrily. Harry ignored the remark. Out of habit he strolled towards the cupboard and opened it. He discovered his usual frying pan was missing. Aunt Petunia kindly reminded him it was his day off and that his plate was next to him. Harry nodded and took the plate and sat across from Dudley.

The fat boy stared hungrily at the marvellous mountain of food. His other grapefruit half stood untouched.

'Give me that plate or I'll beat you later' He demanded.

'Is my plate worth a beating from your dad?' Harry hissed back.

Dudley growled. He continued shovelling what was left of the grapefruit into his enormous mouth.

Harry carved his sausages with his butter knife. Dudley stared. Harry closed his eyes and lathered his lips with the oily meat. Dudley gulped. Then Harry bit the sausage, chewing slowly. He moaned lightly. 'This sausage is delicious Aunt Petunia; did you put something in it?' She replied that she used extra spice and sprinkled salt on them. Dudley whimpered, his stomach growled loudly. Aunt Petunia looked back at the boys; she promptly stood up and went to the fridge. She retreated from the cold box with another grapefruit. Dudley groaned. Perhaps watching Harry eat will hold his hunger…grumble…Harry popped in a shiny piece of egg and chewed softly.

'Harry are you going to go out again?' asked Aunt Petunia. Harry nodded. She looked towards her son. 'Are you finished?' Dudley wobbled his massive chins; she stood up and took Dudley's plate from the table, placed it in the sink, and placed the other grapefruit back in the fridge. Dudley stood up from the sighing chair. Harry coughed on his egg half way down his throat. The human walrus waddled over to the living room and sat on the groaning recliner. Harry snickered into his orange juice. When Dudley walked in the room everything seemed to groan with pain.

He gulped the juice down and set his plate in the sink.

'I'm heading out'

'Come back for lunch Harry'

'I will.'

The raven haired boy bolted out the front door, ignoring his jacket on the coat hanger. He

turned sharply left onto the driveway, then on to the sidewalk, and turned right in the direction of the park. A flash of orange disappeared behind a trash can with a loud hiss and it was echoed by a cry of protest.

'Don't hurt my cat you beastly child!'

Harry ignored the white-haired lady.

'Boys today are so awful'

The wind whistled in his ear. His hair blew behind him. The years of being chased by Dudley's gang had given Harry the gift of flight. The feeling of the light wind in his face aroused his sense of power. He turned right, left, straight, then left again. Unconsciously he circled the roundabout twice, and bolted down Third street. Speed was what he dominated the gang with, and being small allowed Harry to avoid being seen when he didn't wish to be seen. Nearing the park, he jumped over the aged, and leaning boarding fence. His foot unexpectedly caught the wooden bar. He landed with a loud fwump in unison with a shriek of pain.

'Get off me you vile-!'

The girl smacked and swatted Harry with her boaterhat. He clambered off the girl and apologized as politely as he could. He huffed, and helped the girl in getting to her feet. 'Get off!' She smacked his hands away.

The girl brushed bits of grass off her dark-grey blazer; the naked crooks of her knees were painfully pink and sprinkled with dirt. She bent down, and dusted off her grey pleated skirt. She was slightly shorter than Harry and quite attractive. She replaced her boater hat, fixing her fair hair, pulling it back behind her ears.

'Boys.' She huffed. 'Where are you off to in such a hurry, hmm?'

'I greatly apologize, I have to avoid…a gang' Harry explained politely. Something within this girl reminded Harry of Mrs. Weaseley or Professor McGonagall. The girl placed her hands on her hips. She peered into his eyes screwing up her face as she did so, then her face returned to its natural state. 'I see'

'I'm sorry, but I have to go' Harry muttered nervously; looking over his shoulder as if expecting someone to appear.

'Where did you receive that odd scar from?' She eyed his forehead.

Harry quickly brushed his hair forward.

'Um…car crash…ages ago'

'Oh I'm sorry' she said averting her eyes. 'My name is Rayne Cross.'

She held out her hand, which Harry shook.

'Harry Potter' He said in a monotone voice.

'A gang you say? You boys are more dreadful than I thought'

Harry tilted his head slightly and smiled awkwardly.

A voice called.

'Raynie dear' it cried. 'Time to leave sweetie'

'Oh I better be off, I'm glad I have met you Mr. Potter' She turned and dashed towards the voice. 'I hope to see you again sometime'. Her hand waving as she departed. Harry merely wiggled his fingers, warmth glowing in his face. 'She's cute'. Harry pivoted on his heel and darted for the tunnel behind him. His pattering feet echoed briefly and then he was in the forest area of the park.

He rushed towards a slightly green map of the park, and momentarily looked it over. He ran his finger along a path marked "Pond Route". He nodded to himself and swiftly ran down the Pond Route.

About one-hundred yards from the deserted pond, Harry lept off the path in the hedges. The branches scratched his arms, a small gnarled path with over-grown branches slowed Harry to a struggled hike. Harry had to bend over to avoid scratching his face further. He entered a small clearing where young saplings failed to grow. Coarse grass grew wildly within this small clearing with scattered bits of sunlight. The branches grew in the shape of a dome, like an igloo. Various sizes of broken stained glass hung from twine that showered the dome with beautiful colours. A greening wicker lawn chair sat in the middle with an identical greening side table.

Harry paused. He looked over his shoulder, swiftly switching his eyes right to left. He bent over and welcomed himself of the chair, which creaked and shifted under his weight. Holding his breath he cocked a critical ear at the sounds of the park. The sounds of children giggling in the distance, dogs baying, even the faint cooing of pigeons could be heard. The sound of vehicle motors deeply humming away somewhere made the undertone less perceptible than that of a choir singing in the distance.

Now Harry breathed deeply and sighed equally. The image of Stormy Rayne crept into his mind. She was very polite even if Harry did crash into her. Her parting words echoed in his head 'I hope to see you again sometime'. Heat flared into Harry's cheeks. Harry swirled his finger on the wicker chair, biting his lip, staring down at his feet. Why did he have to be so…he could have gone around the fence. He closed his eyes. The earthy scent of the damp foliage spilled out into the air and took over the park.