Sunlight wafted lazily through Ron's window. Harry was dozing in the guest bed, which was adjacent to Ron's obnoxiously orange Chudley Cannons bedspread. Finally the bright golden light invaded his eyelids and he fluttered them open. Two large, honey-brown eyes were boring into him. Harry suppressed a yell and stared back at Hermione, quite irritated.

"What are you doing in here?" He sat up and felt around Ron's desk for his glasses. Hermione offered them to him, and he angrily accepted.

"Well, good morning to you, too."

"Hermione, why are you sitting on my bed?"

"There isn't anywhere else to sit. The only chair is buried in boxers and ties."

"That's because it's a BOY'S ROOM. You know, where girls aren't supposed to be."

"I just wanted to talk to you."

"And you just did. Now leave," commanded Harry, pointing towards the open door.

"Stop being so hostile! What's your problem?"

Harry sighed emphatically and rolled his eyes. Frustrated, he threw himself down on his pillow. "I don't have a problem. God, you keep asking me that."

"Because I think you have a problem."

Harry blew up. "You've already made that clear! Don't you think I'd tell you if something was wrong? You keep nagging me and bothering me to 'confess'!"

"Only because I care about you!" She grabbed a healing wrist and shoved it about an inch away from his face. "You're HURTING yourself, Harry. You never used to do that. Obviously something has changed, and not for the better."

"Just.stop, Hermione," said Harry in a flat, defeated tone. "If I tell you I'm okay, then I'm OKAY. You're my best friend, and if something WAS wrong, you'd be the first person that would know."

Hermione was suddenly interested in a stain on the floor. She lingered in the room, hoping that Harry would say something.

"That means it's time for you to go do.girl stuff." Hermione looked up at him hopefully. "No, Hermione."

"Ha-rry!"

"No! You can stay in here if you really want to. I'm leaving." Harry threw off his sheets and walked out the door.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hermione suspiciously, poking her bushy, brown head through the slightly ajar bathroom door.

Harry looked up from his position at the sink. "Auugh! Get out of here!"

Hermione frowned. "What are you going to do with that razor?"

"SHAVE!" Harry tried in vain to slam the door, but Hermione removed her head and inserted her foot just in time.

"Sorry, but how was I supposed to know that?"

Harry turned to face her, utterly annoyed. "What do you think this is on my face? Whipped cream?"

"You can't blame me for worrying," huffed Hermione. An anxious expression flashed momentarily on her face before she turned and walked briskly down the hall.

Hermione shook Ron's arm violently. He still didn't wake up. Ron shifted positions, and the string of drool that was once attached to his pillow was now stretched to a dangerous length and hanging precariously over his ear. Finally she smacked him on the side of the head, and he snorted awake.

"Ugh? Wha.'Mione? What are you doing in the boy's dorm?"

"We're no longer in school, Ron. It's summer. WAKE UP!"

Ron snapped himself out of his sleepy stupor, and looked curiously at Hermione. "What do you need?"

Hermione knelt close to Ron, and whispered to make sure Harry wouldn't overhear. "Ron, did you know that Harry's a.cutter?"

"Yes. Everybody knows that. So what did you need?"

Hermione gaped. "You KNEW? And didn't tell me?"

Ron shrugged. "I didn't think it was that important."

"Not important? How could you think Harry isn't important?"

Ron sat up defensively. "I never said Harry was important. Hell, he's bloody important. Probably more important than I'll ever be."

"So why are you not worried?"

"I'm just going to leave him alone. I don't really think he wants to discuss it."

Hermione paused. "Does Ginny know?" With Ron's nod, she rushed back to the bathroom and stuck her head through the door. Unfortunately, she could barely see through the thick steam.

"Harry? Are you still in here?"

She was answered by a shriek. Harry's sopping wet head appeared from behind a curtain. "I'm in the shower! GET OUT!"

"I can't see anything, don't worry," said Hermione, fanning the heavy, warm steam.

"No, I DO worry! You have no respect for privacy!" yelled Harry from inside the shower, his voice echoing against the tile walls of the bathroom.

"Could I just talk to you?" she pleaded.

Harry sighed and turned off the water. "Hold on, I have to put on a towel." He looked up to see Hermione's disembodied head still staring at him. "Well? Turn around!" Seconds later he emerged from the steam clad in a thin white towel. Hermione gawked at her suddenly muscled friend, an action not unnoticed by Harry. He brightened inwardly, but said nothing. He didn't feel like prolonging whatever awkward conversation they were about to have.

Harry leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "You wanted to talk to me?"

Hermione snapped out of whatever girlish daze she was in. "Yes, I did." She gently took his wrist and he let her run her thumb softly over the thin, dark streaks. "About these."

Harry was too subdued at the moment to argue or withdraw his wrist. "What do you need to know?"

"Why do you do it?"

He stared at the floor uncomfortably. "It's kind of a lot to explain."

"Give me some bits and pieces." She was still holding his wrist.

"It just.makes me feel better. You know?"

She nodded. "Doesn't it hurt?"

".Yeah. I think that's what I like about it," he answered quietly, the anger in his voice slowly dissipating.

"Please don't do it any more. Please, for me?" pleaded Hermione.

Harry remained silent. His expression now shifted into one of anxiety.

"Why can't you just promise me that?" Hermione could feel tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

"Because I can't," he answered, his voice growing hoarse. He quickly turned and hurried to his room, where Ron had lazily fallen back into slumber, and closed the door.

Hermione slid down the wall and began to cry. She hated the thought of Harry being hurt.