"'Mione?" Several minutes later, Harry's damp head with its tousled black hair emerged from behind his door. Hermione didn't answer, just cried harder.

"You and your constant tears," he said icily.

She looked up, wet streaks shining on her cheeks.

He was quiet, and for a moment he stood in the doorway, watching her remorsefully. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," answered Hermione, wiping the tears from her cheeks and standing up.

Harry bit his lip, deciding whether to go out and comfort her or stay in his room. Finally he creaked open the door and walked slowly out. "Hungry? No one's awake to already have made breakfast, but I'm sure I could whip something up."

Completely ignoring his offer, she glanced down the hall to see Harry slowly walking towards her in a pair of sweatpants and a large sweatshirt. "Why have you been so mean lately?" she asked.

He stopped and stood in the middle of the hallway. "How have I been mean?"

"You.stopped caring about people's feelings. It seems like you have no emotions anymore, just.I don't know, coldness."

"Gee, thanks," he replied sarcastically.

"No, I'm serious. Be the old Harry. I like him better."

Harry scowled and shook his head disapprovingly. "Whatever." He strode past Hermione and bounded down the stairs, arriving in the living room.

Hermione anxiously followed after him. "What was that for?"

Harry was now in the kitchen, and he whirled around to notice a rather frustrated Hermione standing in the doorway. "You just told me that you didn't like me!" he argued, "What was I supposed to do, give you a big hug and a kiss?"

She advanced towards him. "I never said I didn't like you. I just said that I liked you better when you acted like a NORMAL PERSON."

"Let's not start the "freak" thing again, all right? I have enough of that at home."

"I never called you a freak! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" she demanded, her voice raising.

"You're following me around and yelling at me!" he shouted.

Hermione had grown quite incensed by now, and the tension between her and Harry was mounting. "God, you can be such a prick sometimes!"

Harry remained unfazed. "That means so much to me coming from a great friend like you," he snapped.

"Maybe if you didn't act like an arse I wouldn't say that!," she said, advancing further towards him and poking him in the chest at the word: "arse".

"And maybe if you weren't a such a bitch you'd have other friends!" The odd twinkle in his eyes had sparked into a raging fire, and he glared at Hermione menacingly.

Rage bubbled under Hermione's skin. She sprung up a hand to slap him, but he caught it and held her wrist tightly. Finally she exploded. "I bet your damn parents were happy to be slaughtered because they wouldn't have to raise YOU! I'm fucking glad they were killed because they didn't have to take on the stress of such a high-maintenance.," she stammered in a temporary loss of vocabulary, ".FREAK!," she screamed.

Harry gaped at her, aghast and horrified. Even she was surprised at the terrible words that just escaped her mouth. Defeated and shocked, he let go of her wrist and backed up through the doorway that led to the living room, and consequently the first-floor stairs.

"Harry, I- I can't believe I- I didn't lose my mind, there, did I?" She followed him several steps to the foot of the stairs.

"No, you didn't lose your mind. You lost a friend." With a final astonished glance, he turned and walked slowly up the first flight of stairs.

Harry strode quickly down the hall and up a second flight of stairs, each breath growing more and more ragged as his speed increased. He was still in shock from the intense confrontation that just took place between him and his best friend. She can't have just said that. Not her, not Hermione. The only time she had even cursed was when she received a low "A" in Potions last semester. He could hear Hermione pacing back and forth in the first floor's living room- but she was the last thing he wanted to see right now. Was he really like that? Did he really cause her to be that upset? Would he have really caused his parents so much pain? He now jogged at a moderate pace. Too many passionate emotions were whizzing through his head, each one faster than the fastest Snitch. He managed to catch one and burst through the nearest door, quickly shutting it. Almost as soon as he had done so, he slid down the wall and cried softly into his knees.

"Err.Harry?"

He looked up. Ginny was sitting up in her bed, staring curiously at him. Apparently last night she had woken up from her slumber on the couch and crawled upstairs to her room.

"Oh, I'm so sorry- I'll get out of your way." He hastily stood up and turned the doorknob.

"Wait- you can stay here." She threw back her covers and walked hesitantly towards Harry, who was now standing awkwardly by the door. "Oh, Harry! What happened?," she asked, noticing the tears still sitting complacently on his now slightly pink cheeks.

"Hermione and I were just in a bit of a row," he answered, shamefully wiping the salty tears from his face.

"Was it bad? What did she say?" To Ginny's embarrassment, she noticed that she was wearing but a large t-shirt of Charlie's. She pulled it down so that it reached at least to her upper thigh, and hoped Harry hadn't paid attention to her scanty apparel.

He unconsciously ran a hand through his thick, jet-black locks. "Well, it was kind of both of our faults.she said that she's glad my parents were killed, and that I was a prick, and an arse, and a freak- but I DID call her a bitch, so that evens the scales a bit."

Ginny was dumbstruck, and was silent for several seconds. "I'm going to kill her."

Harry peered down at Ginny questionably. "Excuse me?"

"How could she say that? To YOU, of all people! How many times did you save her life? How many times did you save the school? Bugger, I bet you've even saved the world a few times.I'm going to kill her. That's it. I am seriously going to wring that girl's neck," she threatened, saying it more to herself than to Harry. Suddenly remembering the other person in the room, she looked up at his still ruddy cheeks and threw her arms around him. "I'm so sorry that happened. You know it isn't true, right? She just said it in anger, not in truth."

Harry accepted her hug and returned it. "It's just that most things said in a rage like that usually have some sort of basis in truth. I mean, she wouldn't just spit that out from nowhere."

Ginny pulled her face back from where it was nestled in his upper chest, and gazed at him sympathetically. "Harry, that's not true. I'm telling you, that's such a big wet lie." Tears stemming from too many years of pent-up rage and physical abuse were now collecting in his emerald-green eyes. He quickly turned away from Ginny, but still held her loosely in his arms, ".You don't believe me, do you?," she asked, not expecting an answer. On an impulse, she pulled him close to her. He hugged her tightly, his breathing hitching and his back shaking with every sob. Too many people had hated him in his life and yelled at him the way Hermione had. Too many problems were building and boiling inside him. Too many times he had come home from a slightly better day at primary school, just to be abused and screamed at by people who were barely his family. Ginny understood, and soothingly rubbed his back. Several minutes later his tortured crying came to a full stop, but he still held Ginny protectively, his hot breath on her neck turning her cheeks a proud pink.

"Harry.can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Did your uncle.ever abuse you?"

Harry's rhythmical breathing came to a halting stop. He released Ginny from his arms and sat on the bed numbly.

"Harry?"

Without looking up, he responded, "Verbally or physically?"

Suddenly she, too, began to feel the shrinking heat of feeling awkward and uncomfortable. "Err.either."

He was still enraptured with the carpet. "A mix of both."

She sat down next to him. "Like.what kind of stuff did he do?"

He shrugged. "Cursed, called me things, pulled my hair.sometimes he still hits me.nothing fancy. Maybe just a punch in the eye or something."

She held his right hand with both of hers. "I'm sorry."

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I don't anymore." Heavy footsteps and various sounds of bathroom appliances began to echo throughout the house. "I guess everyone's awake. Maybe your mom made breakfast."

Ginny smiled softly despite the odd feeling of sadness that hung heavily in her room. "Let's go, I'm starving." She sat up and stood in the doorway, waiting for Harry. "Well?"

Harry reached across Ginny's bed and picked up a pair of thin yellow shorts. "You might want to wear these." Ginny blushed nearly every shade of red in the color spectrum, and hastily pulled on the loose pajama shorts. Her reaction did not go unnoticed. "Don't be embarrassed, I think the little ducks on your underpants were kind of cute," commented Harry with a slight smirk as he led her downstairs.