A/N: Actually, this isn't my story, so I shouldn't be putting an authors note, eh? *Chuckles nervously* I'm sure my friend won't mind though….

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

            Harry stared blankly in the fire, trying hard to resist the temptation to throw himself in it. It would be so easy, he wouldn't have to see the Dursleys again… but no, soon he would be an adult and could move out of their residence. This thought comforted Harry, allowing him to shut his eyes momentarily.

             "Harry?" asked a timid voice beside him, causing him to jump and open his eyes wide.

            "Oh- hello Hermione." Harry said nonchalantly, deliberately turning his face away from hers.

            "Harry, you shouldn't be up so late, we have a test tomorrow in Snape and you know how he likes to test you so hard. Anyway, I was just making some hats for S.P.E.W-don't give me that look Harry- I even had Neville helping me until he pierced him self for what seemed the hundredth time with the needle and…Harry, what's wrong?" Harry had been listening with what he hoped was a polite expression, and had completely forgotten about his tear-stained face.

            "Nothing!" Harry lied for the second time this evening, mopping his face clean of the few stray tears that had fallen a while earlier. Hermione gave him a look that said "I know you're lying so don't bother."

            "Embers made my eyes water," Harry mumbled lamely, turning away from her again, crossing his arms across his chest moodily. He could feel Hermione peering at him quizzically; he didn't even need to look. He hated it when people pretended that they knew what he was going through, when they never could. Didn't they know he had gone through a lot more than he had, endured so much more? Frustration boiled in him, causing tears to flow onto his cheeks, dripping onto his lap.

            "What's the matter, Harry? Just tell me, maybe I can help." Hermione offered softly, edging closer to him. Harry wanted to yell at her, tell her to go away, but all that came out was a strangled choking sound.

            "Harry!" Hermione cried, alarmed. She knelt in front of him, worried. "Harry, I've never seen you cry before, please tell me!" She was close to tears herself. She urgently searched his face, as if the answers were written there. Harry closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see her.

            Is it about Snuffles?" Harry didn't answer. "Or your parents?" Harry wished she would shut up. Everything she mentioned was opening a new wound, making it so much more painful just to think. "Is it," her voice lowered to a whisper, "…your Uncle Vernon? I heard Ron's parents and Dumbledore speaking when I visited the burrow this summer, they said he did awful things to you, that his temper had gotten worse since he leaned your Aunt Petunia had been "fraternizing" with wizards, and that," she gulped, "…that he whipped  you."