A/N: Yes, it's angsty, but it's my friends so it's GOOD!

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.

                                    Two Months Later, at Hogwarts

            Harry rested his head gratefully onto his pillow, breathing in the comforting scent of Hogwarts. Finally, he was back… he was home…away from the Dursleys. He could hear Ron walking into the dormitory, getting on his pajamas, having a loud conversation with Dean and Seamus who had already come in about Quiditch, and at long last, getting into his bed. The light went off, and Harry gratefully welcomed the silence and darkness. He was so much more used to it, after all.

            Unwillingly, memories floated into his conscience. NO! Thought Harry desperately, he was away from all that, he didn't have to worry about Uncle Vernon whipping him, Dudley taunting him, Aunt Petunia, looking overwhelmed by it all and never doing anything to stop it, day after day, afraid and in pain…

            Harry let out a terrified yelp, he hadn't even been aware that he was dreaming. Horrified, he realized that his pillow, held so lovingly earlier, was drenched in his own tears.

            "Alright, Harry?" came Ron's sleepy voice from across the room.

            "Yeah," lied Harry dully, climbing out of his bed. "I'm going down to the common room to write a letter to snuffles," Ron's snores assured Harry that he had neither heard nor cared about what Harry had said. Harry understood completely, after all he was on the Quiditch team now along with homework.

            Sighing noisily, Harry made his way to the common room, and was surprised to see Hermione slumped in a chair in front of the fire. Not wanting to disturb her Harry snuck past and sat in the armchair next to her. He stared into the burning ember, wondering faintly why the fire always burned.