Author's Note: I'm sooooo sorry for not updating in ever, but to tell you the truth my inspiration for this story had gone down the tube. But now I'm back and fully ready to finish this story. I hope you like this new chapter and please review.

Warnings: A bit violent

Chapter 8: You're grounded

Shrugging on a shirt Harry's confusion mixed with his intrigue. But the longer he kept thinking about everything the more his thoughts fused together and just when he thought he had the answer more questions would jump in and his mind turned into a blender of thoughts. His fingers barely graced the steel of the doorknob when a scorching pain pierced the flesh of Harry's forehead. He jerked back as his palm needed deeply into the aching muscles of his forehead.

Eyes shut tight, face screwed up in agony. The pain was unbearable.

The skin all over his body prickled as if needles were poking at him from every direction. With each stab the force behind it seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. He wasn't breathing. He needed the air. Opening his eyes, he tried to focus on breathing but his lungs would not cooperate. He started to get dizzy, as the world began to spin. His feet did a dance as they tried to maintain the little balance they had left when a particularly hard blow hit him in the gut.

Doubling over Harry hit the floor hard. That was when he felt it. An extreme happiness; happiness without limitation. A laugh rumbled in his throat and burst through his grinning mouth. The laugh was maddening, delirious, maniac-ish, and very enthusiastic. He was laughing through the agonizing pain and it was fantastic. He felt drunk with happiness. His stomach now sore from all this laughter.

Bloody hell, what is happening to me? Ahh! Even his thoughts were in pain.

In a manner of seconds, he would have passed out from the pain and lack of air when his breath caught in his throat. His back met repeatedly with something solid. Two large sausage fingered hands had wrapped tightly around Harry's shoulders. Their grip so hard Harry's shoulder went numb from the grinding pressure. It took him a while to realize that his uncle was beating him against the hard wood floor.

With each contact of flesh to wood, the muscles of his back screamed with desperation. He need to get himself out of this hold, but at the moment that seemed easier said than done. His back was not the only part of him getting bruised; the back of his head was being beat up against the floor board with each rise and fall of his chest, and his chin dug into the meat of his chest as it swung widely with the rhythm of this beating.

Yet, through it all he remained laughing.

"Stop!" he managed to let out but there was no force behind those words, no strength. It was a mere whimper hidden in all the laughter. The bashing kept going, and by now all air had left his starving lungs, and all his senses, even that of feeling were leaving him. Something brushed against his lips and air spilled into his lungs. Gasping, his laughter secede and he was able to yell, "Let go of me!" It was hoarse but firm.

The hand let go abruptly as if Harry had zapped him, and Harry's pulsing torso feel back to the ground, and all pain returned. Harry cringed but that only intensified the pain.

"What in bloody earth was happening to you?" The voice behind the question was more frightened than angry. However, Harry wasn't able to answer to much air was filling his lungs when he breathed, causing him to couch, and cough. Now his throat and lungs felt raw and abused; his back muscles, arm muscles and even head muscles swelled and became to heavy to move; his chin and collar bone burned.

A voice came from within his thoughts, so familiar and so soothing. Harry, take your time, don't rush, just breathe.

And with those words that same pressure came upon his lips and his breathing slowed, and energy poured into his mouth like a cold glass of water, reenergizing his body. A warmth wrapped around him, and comfort covered him as if arms had wrapped round him this time hugging and not reprimanding. His body began to mend it self, the pain started to dim, and his sense came back. The voice was humming and it seemed that his heart followed the rhythm. An ease slipped about him as if the voice was nurturing his body back to good health.

But as he started to get comfortable with the new warmth it seemed to withdraw. He felt the pressure leave his lips, and a feeling of longing replaced it. He didn't want whatever it was to leave him, at least not yet. The presence was no longer there and his body functioning well enough on its own still yearned the care that the presence had brought.

"Are you dieing?" Asked a very hopeful Dudley, who by the sound of his voice stood right by the door.

Harry licked his lips and tasted a sweetness there that could have only been left by a kiss. He blinked at the realization and tried to memorize the feeling, the taste, and the scent. Roses, Harry thought and something in the very back of his mind clicked at the word but he couldn't figure out what it meant.

"Well Boy? Answer Dudley's question!" Uncle Vernon commanded, and there it was that demanding, arrogant and superficial air of a man that thinks he and his family not including Harry was the best family in the world.

Lifting his arms every so slowly, trying to exert as little pain as possible he whipped the tears he had shed from either extreme pain or overwhelming happiness. Either way they were part of a fit that he longer wished to remember. He also fixed his glasses so they weren't lop-sided. Resting his arms back at his sides he looked towards the door and found the Dursleys cowering behind it.

And addressing Dudley's question he answered, "No, but give me a few minutes and that might change." Miserably he sat up, but instantly regretted that decision, as he had to bite his lower lip screaming out with pain. His faced scrunched up with pain and holding his breath he waited a few seconds and the pain dulled.

"Well, in that case might you keep it down, the neighbors have probably heard all this commotion." Aunt Petunia said worriedly. There was no affection in those words. She glanced at the window. "What could they be thinking right now? Oh I hope this doesn't make them change their minds on our invitations to the tea party tonight." Aunt Petunia's lips quivered as if she were actually afraid that the neighbors would shun them away.

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes, "I'll try to keep what the neighbors' thoughts are the next time this happens." Please don't let there be a next time, Harry pleaded.

"Oh please. Don't be so melodramatic." Aunt Petunia glared at Harry, but the intensity of her glare was nothing compared to glare of Uncle Vernon's new watch. Harry winced at the sun's reflection from the glass and gold. Once recovered Harry tried to look at his Uncle again and this time he took in the way al the Dursleys were dressed. Both Uncle Vernon and Dudley wore Newly pressed suits that Harry had never seen before, and Aunt Petunia wore a sun dress that was more classy than any of her other clothes.

Aunt Petunia turned to her husband and started to fix his tie and hair. "Yes, boy we'll be leaving this morning for a very important function." Cheered Uncle Vernon.

"You look handsome darling." Aunt Petunia cooed and peeked her husband on the lips. Harry's insides crunched apparently his stomach didn't like the scene in front of him, and his mind agreed. Turning to Dudley she cooed even more. "Awe my dear dudleykins look how much you've grown."

As the mother and father fawned over their child, Harry made a slow progression for laying down, to on his knees to standing on his own two feet. But as he stood up, lengthening his spin he crumpled back on his knees with a loud grown and cursed whispers. The sound a Harry's body falling barely caught the attention of the Dursleys as they continued to fix themselves, trying to dress t impress.

Finally, they all swept back towards him. "Why in heaven are you still on the floor?"

"Because heaven's to high and I can't reach it." Harry retorted, his teeth still clenched as waves of pain rocked through him.

"Don't try to be smart with me." Uncle Vernon ordered, but Harry wouldn't abide.

"It's kinda hard not to be."

Uncle Vernon's mustache flared upwards. That was always the sign that Harry should stop whatever he was doing but at the moment he really didn't care.

"Well," Uncle Vernon said angrily.

"Vernon, it's time we go." Aunt Petunia glanced at her also new and expensive watch.

"Right, well we're off." Uncle Vernon said loudly as if wishing for all the neighborhood to hear. "We have that important function to be getting to." Petunia and Dudley hurried down the hallway as excitedly. Uncle Vernon posed at the door, seemingly waiting for something, but again Harry's reaction was not of compliment. "Aren't you even going to ask where we are going?"

"No but I have a feeling your going to tell me." Harry tried laying back and sighed as the cool floor soothed his muscles.

"Well as if it was any of your business but Dudley, Petunia and I are going to my promotion party." He chimed wit triumph, but Harry didn't care, it wasn't as if that would change his life. They would still treat him as if he were nothing.

There was silence.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Uncle Vernon's happy mood was declining with Harry's lack of enthusiasm.

"Have fun." Harry said simply.

"We will!" Uncle Vernon paused with frustration. "There's no breakfast, just leftover food from last night."

"Don't worry, I'm not hungry." Harry's answers were monotone.

"Well even if you were, that food is for Dudley when we come home."

"Alright with me."

"That means you have no food."

"I didn't really feel like eating."

"We won't be back 'till late." Uncle Vernon's mustache now twitched with annoyance.

"That's great, have fun."

"You're not to talk to the neighbors."

"Never do."

"Good, and you're not to touch the tv, or computer, or anything in Dudley's room, my room, or the family room."

"If you say so."

"I do say so!"

"Good for you."

Uncle Vernon's face now boiled red and his fist were clenched so tightly that his knuckles shown white. At that moment Harry was reminded of all the times he had taken a beating for something he couldn't control, be yelled at for everything that he did, being scowled at, and now he took his firm stand. Ever since he came to know he was a wizard he had been getting stronger and taking baby steps to freedom from the wrath of his Uncle and Aunt, and everyone who ever thought that they could bully him.

No more, it ends now.

Acting like a stereotypical parent or guardian Uncle Vernon yelled the famous line, "You're grounded!" And the door slammed shut.

Harry couldn't help but snicker, "At the moment I kinda am." Closing his eyes, and resting his palms on the floor by his sides he took in a big breath. He heard the house door shut, the car door open and shut before the igniting of the engine, and a very cheerful Uncle Vernon greet a neighbor good morning. The car speed off and they he was alone.

Always alone, Harry thought almost mournfully. That was his last thought before he drifted into an exhausted rest.

Darkness enclosed him.

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