Hello my pretties- sorry that the last installment was so short- hope this makes up for it a bit. 9 pages at 12 pt. Font in word. Be happy.

edit. I wrote some chapters after this and was going to put them up on but then I read through my story from the start and did not like how the story developed. It took too long to get to some things and some places were too bloated. So I rearranged chapter 3 majorly. I also put some small revisions in chapters 1 and 2. nothing that is vital to the plot, but it helps it flow better. Even if you read the old chapter 3, if you want to know what's going on in the story you need to read the new chapter 3. it is drastically different. Please r and r. peace.

I will never abandon you. My strength will be your strength in your time of need.

-unknown-

Hermione stirred in her sleep, moaning. Harry glanced over at her and was surprised by the tears that were running down her face. He moved from his chair and sat on the edge of the bed. Harry took Hermione's head in his hands and began to stroke her hair uttering soothing sounds. Hermione's stirring ceased but the tears continued to flow.

Suddenly Hermione stopped stirring. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked about her, eyes wide in fear. Looking up she saw Harry.

Eyes filled with tears she sniffed and looked away. "Promise me that you ever leave me!" she breathed urgently.

"I promise," he whispered.

Around six in the morning Harry went downstairs to begin breakfast for his aunt and uncle. He had thought about contacting someone from the Order but he decided he would wait for Hermione to come around and talk to him about her condition before hand. He wasn't really sure how to contact anyone either. Hedwig had not returned yet. Harry assumed she was off hunting, but he was unsure if she had delivered the letter to wherever Hermione was staying. After getting breakfast started, Harry gathered up some food and made up a tray of food to take to his room. He knew he would catch hell for it later, all the food missing, he was on punishment to begin with, which meant no food for awhile, but he didn't care. He wanted to bring food up to Hermione and if he got in trouble later for the missing food, well then that was just one more thing he could use to fuel his anger towards the Dursley's.
"Hermione," Harry cooed gently as he opened his door.

There was no answer.

"Hermione," Harry called a little louder.

Still there was no answer.

Harry opened the door all the way and entered his room carrying the breakfast tray. His bed was empty and Hermione was nowhere to be found. Panicking Harry tried to force his thudding heart to calm in order for him to think.

'She probably went to the bathroom or something,' he thought to himself. He set down the tray on his bedside table and went down the hall to the upstairs bathroom.

"Hermione," he called.

There was no answer and he cautiously pushed open the door. Gasping, he quickly moved forward and knelt on the ground. Hermione was sprawled across the floor, blood dripping from her open mouth.

"Hermione," Harry called desperately. "Please wake up!"

Hermione stirred but did not wake. Her moaning grew louder but she did not open her eyes.

Harry scooped Hermione up in his arms and made his way back to his bedroom. Gently he placed Hermione back on his bed. He rushed to the bathroom and retrieved a damp washcloth.

Back in his room, Harry sponged the washcloth across Hermione's forehead.

"Hermione," Harry said. "Please, please, wake up."

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She tried to speak, but her mouth was too dry; her words only emerged as a croak.

Harry gently eased her into a sitting position and raised a glass of water to her lips. She drank ravenously, but it exhausted her supply of energy, and she collapsed back against the pillows.

Eyes closed, Hermione finally spoke.

"Harry," she whispered. "I'm sorry for coming like this. I need to contact Dumbledore."

It was all the energy Hermione had. She dropped into a cold faint.

Harry was horrified. He was so worried about Hermione. Quickly he grabbed a quill and parchment and wrote a hurried note to Dumbledore explaining what had happened. He would wait for Hedwig and sent it to Dumbledore the moment she returned. In the meantime he meant to look after Hermione's injuries. He paused just a moment at the top of the stairs to listen for his relatives before rushing downstairs and to grab a few ice packs from the freezer.

Letting himself back into his room, Harry was thankful to see Hermione had come around again.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed. "Thank heavens you are up. I have written a note for Dumbledore and will send it with Hedwig the moment she returns."

Hermione smiled, but stopped, wincing as it had split her bruised lip. She put a hand up to stop the bleeding but it was to no avail. Harry handed her a tissue, which she accepted gratefully.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"You're welcome," Harry replied. After a moment he frowned. "Hermione, I wish you'd tell me what happened."

"They found me," Hermione said quietly, shadows playing about in her eyes.

"Who?" Harry asked softly.

"The Death Eaters," Hermione said. "But they did not want to kill me. Other things, yes, but not kill me."

"What do you mean other things?" Harry inquired.

Hermione looked down, face looking especially dark in the dim light because of the bruising. Her answer was no more than a whisper, "Other things."

"Hermione," Harry pleaded. "Please tell me."

Hermione leaned forward to reposition herself in the bed and winced. Seeing this drove the question of what "other things" might be out of Harry's thoughts. He was concerned about Hermione's condition.

"Here," he said, handing her an ice pack. "I got these from our freezer. I don't know how much they'll help, but it's better than nothing."

Hermoine took one in her left hand and put it to her side. "Thanks."

"Does it hurt to talk much?" Harry asked concernedly.

"Yes," Hermione replied in a low voice. "But the pain will wear off soon. It always does."

"Hermione, what do you mean?"

"Nothing. Nothing that I can't handle by myself."

"May I?" Harry asked politely. He had his hand positioned next to her shirt hem. He wanted to see the extent of her injuries, as long as she was comfortable with it.

Resignedly, Hermione nodded.

Harry gently eased her shirt hem up towards her chest, careful around her middle. He winced openly as he saw the dark bruising around a particularly bloody area of her side. "Looks like you might have broken a rib," he said bleakly, trying to hide the concern in his voice. He knew Hermione didn't want to be babied.

"I believe I have," she said in her most logical voice, sounding like the know-it-all he was accustomed to. "It felt the same way last time."

"Hermione, has this happened before? Not the death-eaters. I know that, but just you being in pain. Has that happened before?"

Hermione sighed, regretting almost instantly any hints she had given to Harry. Every time she got close to telling someone she always stopped herself. But this was Harry. He deserved to know. Didn't he? But it was so much easier to keep it hidden from him.

Harry clenched his fists in frustration at Hermione's reluctance to talk. He was worried about her and he would be damned if she started shutting him out now. "Hermione, please look at me."

She had been ready to refuse, resolved to not let him in on her struggle, but her heart had softened at the pleading tone in his voice. Slowly she drew her gaze up, warm brown eyes making contact with his vibrant green orbs.

"Now, please answer me," he said slowly. "Has this happened before? Was it anyone in your family?"

Hermione looked down. She could feel tears forming in her eyes. "Yes."

Harry felt a surge of anger run through him. He knew exactly how she felt. Eager to tell others of his plight, desperately wanting support, comfort and protection, but at the same time, afraid to let others in on the secret, knowing that they would see him as weak or as unable to handle his own affairs.

"Hermione, you can trust me. I won't hurt you, and I won't let them touch you again," Harry said with conviction.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Here, eat," Harry said, bringing the tray closer to Hermione. "Can you tell me what happened now?"

Hermione nodded. For once it felt okay to let down her barrier of protection. Harry did deserve the truth. It seemed to her that he knew more than he let on. "Well, you remember that letter I sent you, telling you that my aunt was ill and we were moving?"

Harry nodded numbly, still trying to rein his temper at the injustices that had befallen his best friend.

"Well that much was true, but a lot more than an ill aunt has been going on this summer. At the beginning of the summer my father died. Heart attack while we were on holiday in America. My mother was consumed with despair. She and he had been inseparable as lovers, and with him dead she couldn't manage to live her life again. She succumbed to the sadness and began to act funny. At first I chalked it up to her being depressed, but as time wore on I began to see that it was more desperate than that. She became more and more dependent on her depression medication. One night, I went into her room and found her talking to herself. But she really believed she was my father. It was so scary finding my mother carrying on a conversation with herself. It was as if she had two minds and one mouth. I called her sister-" Hermione had broken off her story abruptly.

Harry looked over and saw Hermione gulp once and then take a few steadying breaths. She seemed pretty unfazed so far, but Harry knew how upset she had to have been at her father's death and the mental loss of her mother. Then he saw her lip quiver and was comforted by the fact that she still had her emotions. He knew he could help her through as long as she was still willing to feel. Gently he placed a warm hand on her back and began to lightly rub in a circular motion, careful not to disturb her injuries. "Here," he said huskily, holding a glass of water to her lips. "Drink."

Gratefully she gulped down the water, relishing in the break it gave her to regroup her thoughts. She knew she had to continue. Someone had to know the full story. That way, if they came back with accusations again, she'd have at least one person on her side. Sinking back into her pillows, Hermione took a deep breath and continued her story. "Her sister was the only living relative my mother had. So naturally I called her. She and her husband came to our house to help me with my mother. I think it was too late. Something like that. I'm not sure. The following day some people in crisp uniforms came and put my mother in a straight jacket, loaded her in a truck, and took her away to some mental hospital in southern England. That afternoon her sister began walking around the house, putting tags on the things in the house she wanted to keep as 'hers.' It was disgusting. I told them so, her and my uncle. I told them that my father would never have stood for it. I had begged them not to institutionalize my mother, but they didn't listen. They were irritated by that, but when I mentioned my father, shit hit the fan." Again Hermione paused in her story.

Harry was astonished. He could not remember a single instance in his entire relationship with Hermione where he had heard her curse. Something had changed about her. She was less shy, more rebellious. She had a glint in her eyes that warned away any ill wishers. It was as if she did not care anymore how the outside world perceived her. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm really sorry," was all Harry could think to say.

Hermione nodded for a moment before continuing. "My aunt went out one morning to the grocer. I was up in my room where I had locked myself ever since they had come to the house. About an hour after my aunt had left I heard a knock on my door. Without waiting for an answer my uncle poked his head in and asked if I knew where any boxes were that would be large enough to pack my father's golf clubs in so that shipping them to the country club he belonged to might be easier. I lost my temper. I yelled at him that they were my father's golf clubs and he could keep his grimy hands off them. Then I told him to go find his own damn box. I don't quite remember what I said next, but what he did next I'll remember forever. He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed a fistful of my shirt, lifting me clear of the ground. He said three words: Shut up, bitch, before slamming me against the wall. I don't really remember much past that. I think I passed out. I remember waking up later and looking out the window to see that it was dark. I listened for a moment, registering the humming of my aunt in the kitchen below me and the noises of my uncle in the kitchen. I didn't come out of my room for a week, I had a private bath attached to my bedroom so I could stay clear of him for a week, he had yet to be able to break down my door."

She paused yet again. This time only for a moment though. It seemed the more she talked, the easier it was to speak. Harry doubted she had had the chance to speak with anyone about her experience this summer and he knew from his own experiences that it did wonder to confide in someone, be it a person or an animal.

"I had to come out then. I was hungry. I had managed to hold out for one week but I just couldn't do it any longer. From the first day after the episode I kept having fainting spells. I think I had a concussion, but they grew more prevalent as I became weaker due to lack of food. The dizziness was unbearable and in the end my stomach won out. I left the room. It seems that this was too much for my uncle to bear. This time he didn't even make sure my aunt wasn't in the room. I had just finished a sandwich when I heard him behind me. I wasn't quick enough and he was able to backhand me before I could react. I fell across the metal dining chair next to me and heard something in my side crack. The worst though was when my head hit the floor. I don't think I was completely healed from the week before and when I hit the floor everything went fuzzy. I felt something that was shaped like a pill being shoved between my lips. I guess that was kind of a blessing in disguise. It knocked me out. I woke up in the hospital. My aunt and uncle sitting by my bedside, the picture of concerned relatives."

Harry stared at Hermione in stunned silence. He wanted so bad to reach out and comfort her, embrace her and protect her from the outside world, intent that no harm would ever befall her again. Instead, he reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, showing his support rather than verbalizing it and interrupting her story.

"The doctor came in and I asked him what was going on. I wanted to tell him about my uncle, but I saw my uncle's fist clench when I looked at him and knew better. The doctor told me that he had found traces of a date rape drug in my blood and that my aunt and uncle had brought me in after finding me dumped on their porch that afternoon. He asked me if I could remember anything about the guy that had drugged me and hurt me. I lied and said that I thought he was blond but I was very hazy on details. The doctor told me it was to be expected. I had a severe concussion and several broken ribs. I also had a sprained wrist."

Harry cut her off, anger rising to the surface. "Hermione, they could have killed you."

"I know," she whispered, brushing away a stray tear.

"Did your uncle do anything else that day?" Harry asked, afraid of the answer.

Hermione shook her head slowly. "No. The doctor said that although I had been doped with a date rape drug it didn't appear to their tests that I had been touched."

"Why did he hate you so? Why did your aunt allow it?" Harry heard himself asking before he could stop himself. He knew what silly questions they were. Why did his own 'family' hate him so much? Why did his aunt, a blood relative, allow Uncle Vernon to treat him so barbarously?

"She blamed me for my mother's mental state. She said that if I had been a better daughter my father would not have suffered a heart attack because he would not have been stressed and my mother would still be sane. She got my uncle to take the same opinion and my uncle and father had been very close. He saw me as the sole reason his best friend was gone. I don't blame them. They can't help the way that they were raised."

"Hermione! They would have killed you and thought nothing about it, yet you sit here defending them." Harry's outburst did not startle Hermione. She felt like she was in a trance of sorts.

"Harry, you can't blame someone like that. They were grieving, they were not raised with kindness and love," Hermione said emotionally.

"Yes you can, Hermione!" Harry said harshly. "I would never hurt you, but look at how I've been raised." It was out before he even thought about it. He hadn't meant to say anything, but there it was, it was out, and he could not get it back.

"Harry?" Hermione prodded gently. "Please, tell me. I know that you haven't had it easy, but please, tell me what they've done to you."

"No," Harry said gruffly. "I don't want to think about it. Just until I'm old enough to leave, then I don't have to put up with it anymore. I don't want to dwell on the past. I'll tell you someday, okay?" he asked sweetly.

"Okay," Hermione responded quietly, awed that Harry knew what she had experienced. The worthless feelings, the pain, both physical and emotional. They were both orphans now, and she would be damned if any more pain befell either of them. They had to stick together.

Harry gently drew her hand into his and carefully laced his fingers through hers. "Hermione, I'll take care of you. I promise that. I told you I wouldn't harm you, and I will stick to that."

Hermione nodded, grateful for Harry, grateful for everything he was doing for her. For a moment she closed her eyes, resting a bit, for she was tired. Harry noticed this immediately and bade her lean back and rest, they could continue talking later. He promised to send the letter to Dumbledore as soon as Hedwig returned.

Mmmmk. That was chapter 3. you will find out more about harry's deal and hermione's deal. They will rebuild together. Obviously. Please review. I want feedback. I know that parts of hermione's dialogue were kind of long, but I needed to set up the story. Peace.